Read Online Sabrina's Man by Gilbert Morris - Free Book Online Page A

saloon that had been there for years, and although Waco was not a drinking man in any sense of the word, he turned Sarge toward the saloon. He tied the horse up at a rail and went inside. He was struck by the acrid smell of alcohol, stale tobacco smoke, and unwashed male bodies. Walking over to the bar, he hesitated.
    A heavyset barkeeper nodded and said, “What can I serve you?”
    â€œWhiskey.”
    â€œSure.” The bartender put a shot glass on the surface of the bar, poured it full from a bottle, then started to take the bottle away.
    â€œLeave the bottle here.”
    â€œRight.”
    Picking up the bottle, Waco went over to a corner of the room where there was a table with two chairs. He sat down in one, put the bottle down, then held up the shot glass. He studied it for a moment, and bitterness seemed to flood him. He was not by nature a bitter man, but he had been dealt a harsh blow. This was worse than being called back to the army! Worse than anything he’d ever had happen.
    For a time he drank the whiskey off, bracing himself as the fiery liquor bit at his throat then warmed his stomach. He filled the glass again and downed it quickly. He sat there alone until one of the women who frequented the bar came over. But when he shook his head, she sneered and walked away from him.
    An hour later, Waco knew he was drunk. He dropped some coins on the bar and was aware that there was a dullness of sound and knew that he had lost it. He got up, walked over to the barkeep, paid for the drinks, then left.
    He knew he had very little money left, but he went to the hotel and got a room. Going inside, he lay down on the bed and closed his eyes, making the room seem to swim. The bitterness had turned into hatred, and he lay there thinking of his “friend” Will Barton and his new bride, Alice Malone. He could not turn his mind away from the two of them, and he finally passed out, still thinking of how he would get his revenge if he ever saw them again.

    â€œThat young man sure got a rotten deal,” Micah Satterfield said. He was talking to his deputy, Zeb Willis. They were both seated in the sheriff ’s office.
    â€œHe sure did.” The deputy was a tall, lean man with a ferocious mustache and a pair of mild blue eyes. “As I see it, he let himself in for it. Must be a trusting sort of fellow, signing his business and house over to Barton like he did.”
    â€œYes, I guess he was trusting. He always was an easygoing man. Don’t know if he’ll ever trust anybody again.”
    â€œWell, trusting someone to keep something for you is dangerous business. I think he’ll have trouble getting his money back.”
    â€œHe thought Barton was his friend,” the sheriff said. He remembered now how Waco had unloaded to him, and the sheriff knew there was really no recourse for Waco Smith to regain his business or his woman. But he had to check out every opportunity.
    A silence fell between the two men. Then Willis said, “I hear he’s staying drunk most of the time.”
    â€œYes, he is, and that’s different, too.”
    â€œWell, I don’t know where he’s getting the money, but he’s sure trying to drink the Golden Nugget dry.”
    â€œWaco never was a real drinking man. Never any trouble in that way.”
    â€œI reckon he thinks he’s got a good excuse. Bad enough to have to go to that war, but to come home and find your best friend skipped out with your cash and your woman. That’s tough.” Zeb leaned back and said thoughtfully, “You know he’s got a pretty hard look in his eyes. I don’t blame him a bit.”
    â€œWell, he’s been hurt pretty bad. Last night I went by to try to talk him out of drinking, and he said, ‘They done me in, Sheriff, but they won’t do it again.’ You know, I don’t think he was talking just about Barton and that woman. He’s not going to trust anybody