The Smoking Iron
“A young puncher was coming out of a saloon three doors up, and Pat asked him, “Could you tell us where the sheriff hangs out at?”
The youth hiccoughed and blinked at them, then gestured up the street. “Turn to the left yonder an’ it’s half a block. Little ’dobe shack by itself. You can’t he’p but miss it if you look clost.”
Pat thanked him and they went on.
“What-for,” asked Ezra, “do we wanta see the sheriff ’bout?”
Pat said, “Just to size him up … in case.” He led the way diagonally across the end of the street in front of the livery stable and down the side street indicated by the puncher. Halfway up the block he paused as the door of a small adobe house was opened at their left.
The tall gangling figure of Joe Baines was outlined momentarily in the lighted doorway. He was turned sideways, talking over his shoulder to someone inside.
Pat nudged Ezra and pulled him on a few steps to the deep shadow cast by a pepper tree. Baines closed the door and came down the path to the street, w...ent briskly toward his livery stable.MoreLess
The youth hiccoughed and blinked at them, then gestured up the street. “Turn to the left yonder an’ it’s half a block. Little ’dobe shack by itself. You can’t he’p but miss it if you look clost.”
Pat thanked him and they went on.
“What-for,” asked Ezra, “do we wanta see the sheriff ’bout?”
Pat said, “Just to size him up … in case.” He led the way diagonally across the end of the street in front of the livery stable and down the side street indicated by the puncher. Halfway up the block he paused as the door of a small adobe house was opened at their left.
The tall gangling figure of Joe Baines was outlined momentarily in the lighted doorway. He was turned sideways, talking over his shoulder to someone inside.
Pat nudged Ezra and pulled him on a few steps to the deep shadow cast by a pepper tree. Baines closed the door and came down the path to the street, w...ent briskly toward his livery stable.MoreLess
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