Read Online Outlaw Hell by Len Levinson - Free Book Online Page B

whisky and brooding over his first day in Escondido. After a lifetime of wondering about his father, he was finally meeting people with reliable information.
    Each had confirmed the others’ stories in varying degrees, but Duane was eager to know more. Maybe I can find somebody who was a friend of my father's, and there might even be an old woman who met my mother too. It's true what Maggie O'Day said: a sheriff can investigate anything he wants.
    Duane's eyes roved the half-empty saloon, as he searched for the fourth owlhoot, the one with the silver star of Texas on his belt buckle. Waitresses congregated at the end of the bar, exchanging jokes with the man in the apron. The Pecos Kid had been drinking all night, and everything hit him at once. His head swam, as Twilby, his parents, and Maggie O'Day danced through the corridors of his mind. He saw himself shooting the men who'd tried to bushwhack him, and felt as if he were choking on blood. Shuddering, trying to pull himself together, he remembered that he'd been searching for the Belmont Hotel when the shooting commenced. Exhausted, he tossed down his whisky, snorted, and headed for the corridor that led back to Maggie's office.
    A barrel-chested man in a narrow-brimmed derby hat blocked his way. “Whataya want?” asked Bradley Metzger.

    â€œMaggie O'Day.”
    â€œShe's busy.”
    â€œTell her I want to talk with her.”
    â€œI just told you she's busy, kid.”
    Duane didn't need a fracas in the wee hours of the morning. He was about to walk away when the door to Maggie's office opened. She poked her head out and asked: “What the hell's this?”
    â€œI wanted to talk with you,” Duane replied.
    â€œCome on in.” Maggie placed her arm across Duane's narrow waist and eased him into her office, while Bradley Metzger glowered angrily on the sidelines.
    â€œHave a seat, Sheriff,” Maggie said as she closed the door.
    â€œWhat's wrong with him?” Duane asked, aiming his thumb back at the corridor.
    â€œHe's a goddamned fool. What can I do fer y'all?”
    â€œI'm on my way to the Belmont Hotel, unless you can recommend something better.”
    â€œYou spend a night at the Belmont, you'll be a-scratchin’ fer the rest of yer life. There ain't a decent hotel in town, ‘cause decent people gener'ly don't come here, but maybe they would if we had better accommodations. Anyways, I've got a spare room at the end of the hall, and you can use it fer a few days. Be my guest. Why the hell not? If you want a gal, just pick her out on the house. A man like you deserves the very best.” She winked suggestively.
    â€œToo tired.”

    She tossed a key to him. “Room twenty, last room at the end of the hall.”
    Duane found himself in a labyrinth lit by oil lamps hanging from pegs molded into adobe walls. An outlaw and his maid advanced from the opposite direction, cuddling like Romeo and Juliet, although it was counterfeit love. Duane frowned disapprovingly as he came to an intersection of tenebrous passageways. He looked to his left and right, and suddenly didn't know where he was. His head spun. He felt disoriented and leaned his shoulder against the wall.
    A painted harlot approached through the corridor, her frothy black hair adorned with a red rose above her left ear. “You all right, Mister Braddock?”
    â€œWhere's room twenty?”
    â€œI can take you there.” Her eyes brimmed with adulation, and she looked like a harlequin clown in the dim lamplight. “Yer a real man, Mister Braddock.”
    He spotted the scar beneath cosmetics on her right cheek. “Because I shot somebody?”
    â€œBecause you stood up to ‘em, and din't let ‘em shove you around. I wish I was fast with a gun. Nobody'd ever mess with me again.”
    Duane looked her over as she led him down the corridor. She was surviving as best she could, just like the Pecos Kid. “What's your