Read Online the Iron Marshall (1979) by Louis L'amour - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Louis L'amour
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down to breakfast. The citizens of the town ate at home, and only transients such as himself ate at the hotel. On this morning there was only one other person in the dining room ... a young woman wearing a gray traveling outfit, a very cool and composed young woman who took him in at a glance and then ignored him.
She was quite pretty, an ash-blonde with very regular features. Obviously awaiting someone, she was impatient now, and she glanced often at a tiny watch she carried in her purse. Curious, Shanaghy took his time, wondering whom she was to meet and what such a girl was doing in this place. He knew little of women. Most of those he knew had been the girls off the Line or those who walked the streets on the Bowery, and he knew them only by sight or the casual contacts made in dance halls where he went often to collect for Morrissey, who owned several.
It was early for such a woman to be around. Had she come in from the country? That was unlikely. Had she got off a train? The first of the day had not arrived yet.
A new man entered. He was slim and dark, wearing a Prince Albert coat and a planter's hat. He was neat, his gray vest spotless, the striped gray pants hanging down over highly polished boots.
Shanaghy glanced at him. Though he had never seen the man before, he knew the type, a con man and a four-flusher. He was smooth and handsome, with a face that seemed to have all the right lines but somehow missed something. The girl started up, then sank back. "George! Of all people!" She acted surprised, but Shanaghy was sure this was the person she had waited for. Why the act then?
Shanaghy refilled his cup. The smith could wait just a little longer.
Chapter Five.
Whatever was happening here was none of his business, but Shanaghy knew breeding when he saw it, and the girl had it. The man did not. He was simply a flashy tough who had put on the outward manners of a gentleman, and Shanaghy knew that something was in the wind.
Seeming to be unaware of them, he accepted a plate of steak and eggs from last night's waiter. Scarcely had the waiter gone when Shanaghy heard George say, "Don't worry, ma'am. I promised you he'd never get here and he will not." "But what if they get someone else?"
The man shrugged. "There's nobody else. Barrett had the reputation, and he knew how to handle such situations. With him out of the picture it will happen just as we want it to."
After that there was only an overheard word here and there, but Shanaghy understood nothing. Barrett must be Rig Barrett, but how could George be sure Rig would not show up?
The couple turned suddenly to look at him, but he was seemingly oblivious to their conversation and they could not know they had spoken loud enough to be overheard. Anyway, from Shanaghy's dress he was obviously not native to the town, but a stranger.
Despite himself, he was puzzled. Who were these people? Why was it important to them that Rig Barrett not be present? And how could George be so sure Rig would not show up ... unless he had made sure he would not? Murder? Why not, if the stakes were great enough? But what stakes could be, in such a place as this? Yet ... Shanaghy didn't know. This country was new to him and he did not know where the money was.
Cattle, someone had said. Grazing land. There was a shortage of beef in the eastern states. He had heard talk of that. Yet if it was cattle, where were they? And why was it necessary for Barrett to be out of the picture? Tom Shanaghy was a cynic and a skeptic. The world in which he had lived in New York was a world where only the dollar counted. If people were after something, it had to be money or a commodity that could be turned into money. Such a girl as this was not meeting such a man unless there was money in it. No doubt she thought she was using him, and probably he believed he was using her. Cattle came from Texas. Vince Patterson was coming up from Texas with cattle. He was coming to revenge himself upon the town where
She was quite pretty, an ash-blonde with very regular features. Obviously awaiting someone, she was impatient now, and she glanced often at a tiny watch she carried in her purse. Curious, Shanaghy took his time, wondering whom she was to meet and what such a girl was doing in this place. He knew little of women. Most of those he knew had been the girls off the Line or those who walked the streets on the Bowery, and he knew them only by sight or the casual contacts made in dance halls where he went often to collect for Morrissey, who owned several.
It was early for such a woman to be around. Had she come in from the country? That was unlikely. Had she got off a train? The first of the day had not arrived yet.
A new man entered. He was slim and dark, wearing a Prince Albert coat and a planter's hat. He was neat, his gray vest spotless, the striped gray pants hanging down over highly polished boots.
Shanaghy glanced at him. Though he had never seen the man before, he knew the type, a con man and a four-flusher. He was smooth and handsome, with a face that seemed to have all the right lines but somehow missed something. The girl started up, then sank back. "George! Of all people!" She acted surprised, but Shanaghy was sure this was the person she had waited for. Why the act then?
Shanaghy refilled his cup. The smith could wait just a little longer.
Chapter Five.
Whatever was happening here was none of his business, but Shanaghy knew breeding when he saw it, and the girl had it. The man did not. He was simply a flashy tough who had put on the outward manners of a gentleman, and Shanaghy knew that something was in the wind.
Seeming to be unaware of them, he accepted a plate of steak and eggs from last night's waiter. Scarcely had the waiter gone when Shanaghy heard George say, "Don't worry, ma'am. I promised you he'd never get here and he will not." "But what if they get someone else?"
The man shrugged. "There's nobody else. Barrett had the reputation, and he knew how to handle such situations. With him out of the picture it will happen just as we want it to."
After that there was only an overheard word here and there, but Shanaghy understood nothing. Barrett must be Rig Barrett, but how could George be sure Rig would not show up?
The couple turned suddenly to look at him, but he was seemingly oblivious to their conversation and they could not know they had spoken loud enough to be overheard. Anyway, from Shanaghy's dress he was obviously not native to the town, but a stranger.
Despite himself, he was puzzled. Who were these people? Why was it important to them that Rig Barrett not be present? And how could George be so sure Rig would not show up ... unless he had made sure he would not? Murder? Why not, if the stakes were great enough? But what stakes could be, in such a place as this? Yet ... Shanaghy didn't know. This country was new to him and he did not know where the money was.
Cattle, someone had said. Grazing land. There was a shortage of beef in the eastern states. He had heard talk of that. Yet if it was cattle, where were they? And why was it necessary for Barrett to be out of the picture? Tom Shanaghy was a cynic and a skeptic. The world in which he had lived in New York was a world where only the dollar counted. If people were after something, it had to be money or a commodity that could be turned into money. Such a girl as this was not meeting such a man unless there was money in it. No doubt she thought she was using him, and probably he believed he was using her. Cattle came from Texas. Vince Patterson was coming up from Texas with cattle. He was coming to revenge himself upon the town where
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