Maverick Marshall
“After studying the street he wheeled into the gloom of Fentriss’ stable. The bald-headed proprietor came up, mopping at his face. Frank, getting down, allowed that he was minded to look over the spare mounts. They went out to the corrals which showed evidence of repairs. Frank considered a blue roan, a squatter, that was fifteen hands without a patch of white on her.
Fentriss leaned on his hay fork. “You fixin’ to buy or borrer?”
“Rent,” Frank said, and stood silent a moment. “Get her ready,” h...e said, and abruptly walked off.
Back in the street’s sun glare Frank passed up the jail, went by the hotel and, ignoring the stares of a couple of townsmen, cut over to the New York Cafe and stepped in. He took one of the twelve empty stools at the counter and distributed a part of his weight on his elbows. The pungent aroma of corned beef and cabbage made a strong bid for notice in the overheated room. At a corner table near the end of the counter Old Judge, hunched over his plate like a dilapidated vulture, sat gumming his food in preoccupied silence.MoreLess
Fentriss leaned on his hay fork. “You fixin’ to buy or borrer?”
“Rent,” Frank said, and stood silent a moment. “Get her ready,” h...e said, and abruptly walked off.
Back in the street’s sun glare Frank passed up the jail, went by the hotel and, ignoring the stares of a couple of townsmen, cut over to the New York Cafe and stepped in. He took one of the twelve empty stools at the counter and distributed a part of his weight on his elbows. The pungent aroma of corned beef and cabbage made a strong bid for notice in the overheated room. At a corner table near the end of the counter Old Judge, hunched over his plate like a dilapidated vulture, sat gumming his food in preoccupied silence.MoreLess
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