Read Online Of Grave Concern by Max McCoy - Free Book Online

wind.”
    â€œAh,” the strange man said. He removed the glove from his right hand and bent down to pluck a marble from the ground in his pale fingers. He held it up, where it caught the rays of the setting sun, and beneath the mud the marble swirled blue and yellow and violet.
    â€œA prize,” he said, again speaking in that accent that was vaguely Old World. He took a leather bag from his belt, opened it, and dropped the marble in with the others, where it grated with the unpleasant sound of glass on glass. “I must have dropped it.”
    I gave him a tight smile.
    â€œIt is a childish habit, but I have become a collector,” the strange man said. “The days are many and my diversions few.”
    As bad as Dodge City smelled, this man smelled worse, like a dead mouse that has been in a wall for three days. I thought I was going to be sick. My vision was narrowed, as if I were looking down the wrong end of a spyglass.
    â€œI am Malleus,” he said.
    â€œCharmed,” I said weakly.
    Who wears a heavy coat and gloves on a warm spring day? I asked myself. No wonder he smells.
    Also, he was perhaps the ugliest man I had ever seen, with features pale and protean. I tried to soothe Eddie, but he was furious.
    â€œI own this modest freight enterprise,” he said. “You must accept money for the broken spectacles and bruises, I implore—”
    â€œâ€˜Nevermore!’” screeched Eddie.
    â€œThe birds speaks,” Malleus observed without inflection.
    The whiskey trader in the dusty black shirt rode up.
    â€œEverything okay, boss?”
    â€œGo,” Malleus said. “Help Shadrach.”
    The whiskey trader looked uncertain, seemed about to say something, and then thought better of it. He turned the horse and rode back.
    I took a deep breath, trying to clear my head. It was as if a mist had shrouded my mind. My hand still felt cold where the odd man had touched it.
    Malleus shoved his hand in his pocket and came out with some tarnished silver dollars.
    â€œNo,” I said. “The train . . .”
    â€œAs you will,” Malleus said. “Safe travels.”
    Then he tipped his hat and grinned, revealing rows of teeth the color of tusk.

11
    The Dodge House dominated the southeast corner of North Front Street and Railroad Avenue, just across from the depot and not far from the jail. Not only did it seem to be the biggest concern in town, but it also appeared the neatest, with a broad porch and steps affording the best refuge from the Ganges of mud flowing through town.
    â€œIt’s not the Palmer House,” I told Eddie, “but it will do.”
    Police Judge Frost had agreed to the terms of my release, as outlined by Potete, pending the hearing in district court. However, Frost did not consent to release the injured tramp to my employ. The city would have its five-dollar fine for vagrancy first, Frost said. I objected, saying that if a man were fined for having no money, the city was compounding the crime. I declared on principle that I would not contribute to such insanity. Of course, my principle was based on not having the five dollars to begin with.
    I registered at the Dodge House, but made a fuss about having to inspect the rooms first, so as to think I was doing them a favor by reluctantly staying there. Of course, we’d settle up the bill later.
    I chose a corner room, with windows that looked south and west. When I took a glance, my heart sank.
    Potete had been right—the grass, which was rippling fiercely in the wind, seemed to roll on forever. Bisecting this field of green was the railroad, which shot like an arrow to the west. Southward, a trail led out of town, crossed a wide toll bridge spanning a creek, then disappeared into a series of low green hills.
    I placed Eddie’s cage on a table next to the bed, then lifted the cloth. He scrambled about and regarded me with a black seed of an eye that was decidedly