Read Online One Went to Denver and the Other Went Wrong (Code of the West) by Stephen Bly - Free Book Online

“I’ll tell you what.” Tap pulled some coins out of his pocket. “You take this ten dollars as a down payment and wait right here. I’ll be back in a day with Barranca and your one hundred dollars. Then we’ll ride south and do that job. Now where do I find Barranca?” He dropped the coins into Slim’s hand.
      “I don’t know that we should tell ya, mister. Victor would shoot us down at first sight if he know’d we told anybody where he was stayin’. He’s touchy that way, don’t ya know?”
      “Of course, I won’t tell him how I found him.” Tap snatched the coins. “But I think maybe I’ve been wastin’ my time, boys. The deal’s off. I’ve been sittin’ in this smoky saloon too long. You go on back to your drinkin’. I’m headin’ into the history books.” He stood up and started to walk toward the front door of the Seven Mile Saloon.
      “Wait a minute, mister. Don’t go off gettin’ your egg fried. You bein’ a friend of Barranca’s, I don’t suppose it would hurt.” Slim looked back at Jacob who nodded agreement. “Do you know where the Pearly Gate Dance Hall is?”
      “I can find it.”
      “You go into the Pearly Gate and ask for Lena. Tell her that Earp and Masterson sent you in to talk to Barranca. Maybe she’ll take you to him and maybe she won’t. Now, how about them coins?”
      “Earp and Masterson?”
      “Secret passwords.”
      Clowns. The West is filling up with idiots and clowns.
      Tap tossed the coins back into the man’s outstretched hands. “I’ll see you boys right here by noon tomorrow.”
      Tap walked out to the rail and cinched the saddle tight on Brownie. The sun had dropped behind the Rockies as he rode back into Denver. The cold, slick saddle leather sapped the heat out of his legs; the ducking trousers felt stiff and raw. He considered tying his bandanna around his almost numb ears, but ruled it out and yanked down his wide-brimmed gray hat instead.
      Tap let the reins drop around the saddle horn and stuffed both gloved hands into his coat pockets to try to keep them warm. An occasional touch with a spur or a correction with a knee was all Brownie needed to keep plodding back to town. The bull-hide boots crammed into the tapaderas kept some warmth in his feet.
      Barranca? Lord, the last time we went head to head I swore I’d shoot him on sight if I ever spotted him again. But even if he killed Crawford Billingsly, I’ve got no way to prove it. And he’s not goin’ to walk into the marshal’s office and turn himself in.
      It was well after dark when he left Brownie at the Wyoming Stables again and returned to the Drovers’ Hotel. The night clerk refused to look at him as he crossed the lobby. After washing up in a basin in his room, he went down to the hotel restaurant. He was drinking hot coffee and chewing on a tough piece of venison when the waiter, a man by the name of Maurice, scooted a chair up to his table.
      “Did you want to talk to me?” he asked.
      Tap swallowed a lump of gristle and looked at the man. “You ever heard of the Pearly Gate Dance Hall?”
      Maurice silently looked Tap up and down.
      “Listen, mister, if you are just lookin’ for a girlfriend for the night, there’s a lot safer places than the Pearly Gate. It’s one of those snake holes that seems to have a knifin’ or a shootin’ most ever’ night.”
      “It sounds mighty exciting. Think I’ll give it a try. Where did you say it was?”
      “Go up here two blocks and turn right. Then go out that diagonal road to the southeast ’til you think you’re clear out of town. You’ll see it on the rise. Where do you want your belongings sent when they bring you back stretched out on a board?”
      Tap stared at the man for a moment. Maurice broke into a knowing smile.
      “It can’t be all that bad,” Tap commented.
      “Oh, it can be much worse. But you’ll survive. I heard about the shootin’ up in your room last night.