A Good Day to Die Read Online Free Page B

Fe Trail, I reckon.”
    â€œAnd then?”
    Johnny shrugged. “Denver, or the mines in Arizona or Nevada. California, maybe. Who knows?”
    â€œDamn fools.” Luke jetted some tobacco juice into the street. “I mean, the ones taking their families with them.”
    â€œCan’t leave ’em behind,” Johnny said reasonably.
    â€œWell, maybe not. But they got a hard road ahead. Lucky to make it without losing their hair.”
    â€œMajor Adams knows his business, they say.”
    â€œThey say.”
    â€œHis wagons have gotten through so far.”
    â€œNot all of them. Injins and outlaws, desert and mountains did for more’n a few.”
    â€œThat ain’t the Major’s fault. They knew their chances when they set out,” Johnny countered. “Anyhow, what’ve they got to go back to? Most of them are Southrons. All they own is their wagons and what’s in them.”
    â€œThey’re lucky Billy Yank left them that much,” Luke said.
    They crossed the street to the Cattleman Hotel with its raised front porch and verandah. A half dozen wooden steps accessed it, with another such stairway leading down at the opposite end. Johnny and Luke went around it, walking in the street fronting the structure.
    â€œEver get a hankering to go wandering again, Johnny? See what’s over the next hill, break new trails?”
    â€œNot lately. I’ve been a rolling stone for a long time. I’d like to stay put for a while. You?”
    â€œCan’t say as I’ve got itchy feet, seeing as I only got one foot left to get a itch on. Hangtown ain’t nothing special to me, now that the rest of us Pettigrews is either dead and gone or moved on. But it’ll do for now.”
    â€œWhy’d you ask, then?”
    â€œSeeing them pilgrims got me to wondering, that’s all.”
    Across the street was the Alamo Bar, a high-toned watering hole. Farther west, on the next block, was Lockhart’s Emporium, the biggest general store in the county.
    A stout middle-aged matron with a couple kids clinging to her skirts stood outside the store. A lightweight, four-wheeled cart drawn by a single horse was drawn up alongside the boardwalk.
    A store clerk laden with packages came out the front door. He was young and thin, with a bookkeeper’s green-shaded visor on his head. He wore a white bib apron over a long-sleeved striped shirt and pants. The bulky parcels wrapped in brown paper and tied with string were held in front of him against his chest, piled so high he couldn’t see over them. He navigated by peeking around and to the side of them.
    He was followed by a young woman. She held two bundles by the strings, one in each hand, arms at her sides. Masses of dark brown hair were pinned up at the top of her head. She had wide dark eyes, high cheekbones, and a well-formed, clean-lined face. In a yellow dress, she was slim, straight, and shapely.
    She was worth looking at, and Johnny Cross did just that.
    The storeclerk and the young woman set the packages down in the back of the cart and went back into the store.
    â€œGood-looking gal,” Johnny stated. “Seems familiar, somehow.”
    â€œThat’s Fay—Fay Lockhart, hoss,” Luke said, laughing. “Don’t you recognize her?”
    â€œShe’s filled out nicely since the last time I saw her. I’d have bet she would have been long gone from Hangtown. She always talked about how much she hated it here and couldn’t wait to leave.”
    â€œShe’s been gone, and now she’s back. Like you.”
    â€œAnd you!”
    â€œNo staying away from Hangtown, is there? Calls you home. Fay got married and moved away, but here she is, back at the same ol’ stand.”
    â€œMarried to who?” Johnny pressed.
    â€œSome stranger, name of Devereaux. Cavalry officer. Way I heard it, they met while she was visiting kinfolk in Houston. He was on leave.