Read Online Novel 1956 - Silver Canyon (v5.0) by Louis L’Amour - Free Book Online Page A

covered with ancient thatch. There was a little hay there, and I forked some into the manger, then stood the fork against the wall and settled my hat lower on my head.
    My hands were sweating and my mouth tasted dry. I told myself I was a fool—and then stepped out into the open. There was no one in sight.
    Walking slowly so as not to attract attention, I crossed toward the back door of the barber shop.
    The grass of the backyard was parched and dry, the slivery and gray old steps were broken and creaked as I mounted them. I looked through the glass in the door and saw that the only man in the shop was the barber himself. Opening the door, I stepped in.
    He glanced up, then got to his feet without interest and went behind the chair.
    â€œHaircut an’ shave,” I told him, “I been out prospectin’.”
    â€œCowhand?”
    â€œYeah…an’ I’ll be glad to get back to it.”
    He chuckled and went to work. “Missed all the fun,” he said. “Been lively around.”
    â€œYeah?”
    Rollie Pinder was killed…never figured the man lived was fast enough. Some folks say it was the Benaras boys, but they use rifles. I figure it was that there Brennan feller.”
    He snipped away steadily. Then he said, “We’ll never know, prob’ly. Dead now.”
    â€œBrennan?”
    â€œUh-huh…folks say Rollie got some lead into him, seems like. They found blood sign.”
    The chair was comfortable. I closed my eyes. It would be good to sleep, to rest. It had been a long time since I had slept in a bed. With the quiet drone of the barber’s voice, the comfort of the chair, I felt myself nodding.
    â€œYou’ll have to sit up, mister. Can’t cut your hair ’less you do.”
    So I sat up, but when he lay the chair back to shave me, my eyes closed again, and my body relaxed into the comfort of the chair. A hot towel on my face felt good. I listened to the razor stropping, slapping leather. Slapping leather, as I might soon be doing.
    Smiling and half asleep, I felt the lather working into my beard under the barber’s fingers. I was not quite asleep, not quiet awake. A rider went by in the street. The razor was sharp and it felt good on my face…I dozed.…
    A hand shook my shoulder, shook it hard. My eyes opened into the anxious eyes of the barber.
    â€œLook, mister, you better get out of here. Get out of town.”
    â€œYou know me?” My face was free of the beard now.
    â€œSeen you once…at Mother O’Hara’s. You better go.”
    The little rest had left me groggy. I got out of the chair and checked my guns. It was not a time to trust any man.
    â€œDon’t want me killed here, is that it? Don’t want my blood on your floor?”
    â€œThat ain’t it. I got nothing against you. Never knowed who you was until you got rid of that beard. No, you just move out. You ain’t safe. That Pinder outfit…”
    My fingers found the money in my pocket.
    â€œThanks,” I said. “I enjoyed the shave.”
    Then I walked to the front door and looked down the street. Two men sat in front of the store. I put on my hat and lifting a hand to the barber, I stepped out.
    It was only sixty feet to Mother O’Hara’s, but it was going to be a long walk.
    Chapter 9
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    W ALKING THAT SIXTY feet, I knew a dozen men might be waiting to kill me. Unconsciously, I guess a little swagger got into me. It isn’t every man who is hunted by a small army!
    For an instant I paused by the window of Mother O’Hara’s and glanced in. Key Chapin was there, and Morgan Park. I could not see who else. Down the street all was quiet. If anyone had identified me they made no move, and the barber had not left his shop.
    My hand turned the knob and I stepped in, closing the door behind me.
    The smell of coffee was in the air, and the pleasant room was quiet. Morgan Park looked up and our eyes held across