Read Online Way Down on the High Lonely by Don Winslow - Free Book Online

took off.”
    She put a pillow behind her head and leaned back against the wall.
    “Do you know where he went?” Neal asked.
    “Maybe. We had talked about it a lot, because we had been going to go together. There’s a ranch near Austin that was looking for hands. Harley knew the owner from California and had some buddies working the place. We was just working here to put some money away to eventually buy our own place. I’m sure he headed there without me. I’ve even thought about trying to look him up myself, see if … so you think you got your five hundred’s worth yet?”
    “Do you remember the name of the ranch?” Neal asked, not believing he was going to be that lucky.
    She shook her head. “The son of a bitch never said. Maybe he was always figuring on dumping me.”
    “How long ago did he leave?”
    “It’s been about a month now, I guess.”
    Well, at least we’re whittling it down, Neal thought. “Okay, thanks.”
    She sat up and gave him a nasty, knowing smile.
    “You still got seventy bucks’ worth coming to you,” she said. She flicked the switch against her hand. “I mean, you chose the school-marm for some reason, huh?”
    “I figured it would be the one where you’d be wearing the most clothes.”
    She stared into his eyes. “You’re a real bastard.”
    That about sums it up, Neal thought. “I’ll take the shower, though,” he said, “if you don’t mind.”
    “I don’t mind if you drown.” She got up from the bed and stalked out.
    Neal showered, then headed out the door. He was about halfway back down the gravel pathway when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned around and the bouncer from the corral stuck a big revolver under his nose and cocked the hammer. He still had his shades on.
    “Turn back around,” he said.
    “Absolutely.”
    The cowboy smashed the pistol right behind Neal’s ear and Neal dropped to the ground. He was conscious just long enough to hear the cowboy say, “Help me get him in his car.”
    The cowboy grabbed him under his arms and Doreen took his feet. They shoved him into the passenger seat of the Nova and drove him about five miles east along the highway. Doreen relieved his wallet of the rest of his expense money, about twelve hundred dollars, during the ride. The cowboy pulled the Nova off onto a little washout, dragged Neal out of the car, and laid him alongside some rabbit brush.
    Neal started to wake up when he heard shots. He cracked an eye open enough to see the cowboy put a slug into each of the Nova’s tires and another in the gas tank.
    “Let’s get out of here,” said the cowboy.
    “Not quite yet,” said Doreen.
    She hauled back and planted a nice sharp schoolmarm shoe into Neal’s groin and then into his ribs.
    “That’ll teach the uppity son of a bitch,” she said.
    Neal passed out again.
    He woke up to the sound of tires crackling on the dry gravel.
    I wonder if Matt and Miss Kitty are coming back to polish me off, Neal thought. Maybe I should try to crawl out of here.
    He was lying on his stomach. He touched the right side of his head and felt blood caked in his hair. He traced the blood where it had run down his neck, then he tried to lift his head up out of the dirt. But even that small effort sent a bolt of pain searing across his ribs and started his head throbbing all over again.
    He laid his head back down and settled for just raising his eyes to the battered car that sat between him and the road. He smelled gasoline and knew he should get up, but it just felt like too much work.
    A car door shut. Footsteps came closer. Neal saw cowboy boots.
    “What in the name of Sam Hill … ?” a man’s voice asked. “Are you all right?”
    Neal raised an eye to see a middle-aged man in a green gimme cap leaning over him.
    “I’ve been better,” Neal mumbled.
    “I’ll bet you have.”
    The man gently turned him over on his back.
    “That’s quite a knock you have on your head.”
    Not to mention my balls, Neal thought.