now, we’re goin’ to be left suckin’ hind tit!” someone shouted, which started a rush for the door. Within moments nobody was left in the saloon but Jake, the piano player, Hawke, and Dancer.
Hawke picked up his beer and turned his back to the bar. He lifted his mug to his lips as he studied Dancer.
“You ain’t goin’ after the gold?” Jake asked Hawke.
“No.”
“I’d be out there with them right now if I didn’t have this here job,” Jake said.
“The man who discovered gold…I think you called him Luke?”
“Yes sir. Luke Rawlings is his name.”
“Why do you think Luke came in here like that?”
“Well, wouldn’t you be excited if you’d discovered gold?”
“Yes,” Hawke said. “But I don’t think I’d be telling everyone exactly where I found it.”
“I’ll be damned. I never thought about that. Why do you reckon he did tell?”
“I don’t know,” Hawke replied. “It is puzzling.”
Chapter 8
ON SATURDAY AFTERNOON HAWKE PICKED UP HIS clothes from the Chinese laundry. For his dinner engagement with the Dorchesters, he changed from the jeans and plaid shirt into something he considered more appropriate.
For many men such a drastic change in apparel would make them uncomfortable. Hawke felt at ease in his formal attire, having donned such clothes many times for his piano performances. He told himself it was his last connection with the genteel life that he had so long ago abandoned.
Shortly before he left his hotel room there was a knock. Hawke pulled his gun and stepped up to the door.
“Who is it?”
“Mr. Hawke, my name is Joey,” a young-sounding voice said from the other side. “I work down at the livery stable.”
Curious as to why someone from the livery would be calling on him, Hawke opened the door. The boy in the hall looked to be about fourteen.
“Are you Mr. Hawke?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Your horse is tied up in front of the hotel.”
“My horse? I don’t have a horse.”
“Yes, sir, you do. Mr. Dorchester come down to see me, and asked me to come out to his place to pick out the finest horse I could find and bring him in to you. You want to see him?”
“Yes,” Hawke said.
Hawke followed the boy downstairs, then out the front door. There, tied to the hitching rail in front of the hotel, was one of the best-looking horses Hawke had ever seen. It was a buckskin stallion standing about seventeen hands high with a long neck, a sloping shoulder, a short strong back, a deep heart girth, and a long sloping hip. His musculature was smooth and well-defined. Hawke noticed that his saddle was on the horse.
“How’d my saddle get there?” he asked.
“I knowed you’d left it down to the depot, so I went down and got it. Do you like the horse?” Joey asked.
“Yes, he’s a magnificent animal.”
“I picked ’im out my ownself,” Joey said proudly. “I figured I pick ’im out as iffen I was pickin’ ’im out for me.”
Hawke pulled out a silver dollar and gave it to the boy. “Well, you did a good job, Joey,” he said. “Yes, sir, a find job.”
“Gee, thanks, Mr. Hawke!” the boy said, excited over the dollar.
Dorchester’s ranch, Northumbria, was about five miles north of Green River. Once out of town, Hawke urged the horse, and it responded instantly, going from a walk to a full gallop in a heartbeat. Hawke leaned forward, encouraging the horse to give him all it had. The ground flashed by in a blur, and he had the irrational sensation that if he went any faster, he would fly.
Hawke held the gallop for about two minutes, then eased back and let the horse cool down with a trot, then a briskwalk. Almost before he knew it, he was at the southern boundary of Dorchester’s ranch, indicated by an arched gate with the word NORTHUMBRIA worked in metal across the top.
It was another mile up the road from the entry gate before the house came into view. When Hawke saw the house for the first time, he stopped just to take it in.
Hawke picked up his beer and turned his back to the bar. He lifted his mug to his lips as he studied Dancer.
“You ain’t goin’ after the gold?” Jake asked Hawke.
“No.”
“I’d be out there with them right now if I didn’t have this here job,” Jake said.
“The man who discovered gold…I think you called him Luke?”
“Yes sir. Luke Rawlings is his name.”
“Why do you think Luke came in here like that?”
“Well, wouldn’t you be excited if you’d discovered gold?”
“Yes,” Hawke said. “But I don’t think I’d be telling everyone exactly where I found it.”
“I’ll be damned. I never thought about that. Why do you reckon he did tell?”
“I don’t know,” Hawke replied. “It is puzzling.”
Chapter 8
ON SATURDAY AFTERNOON HAWKE PICKED UP HIS clothes from the Chinese laundry. For his dinner engagement with the Dorchesters, he changed from the jeans and plaid shirt into something he considered more appropriate.
For many men such a drastic change in apparel would make them uncomfortable. Hawke felt at ease in his formal attire, having donned such clothes many times for his piano performances. He told himself it was his last connection with the genteel life that he had so long ago abandoned.
Shortly before he left his hotel room there was a knock. Hawke pulled his gun and stepped up to the door.
“Who is it?”
“Mr. Hawke, my name is Joey,” a young-sounding voice said from the other side. “I work down at the livery stable.”
Curious as to why someone from the livery would be calling on him, Hawke opened the door. The boy in the hall looked to be about fourteen.
“Are you Mr. Hawke?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Your horse is tied up in front of the hotel.”
“My horse? I don’t have a horse.”
“Yes, sir, you do. Mr. Dorchester come down to see me, and asked me to come out to his place to pick out the finest horse I could find and bring him in to you. You want to see him?”
“Yes,” Hawke said.
Hawke followed the boy downstairs, then out the front door. There, tied to the hitching rail in front of the hotel, was one of the best-looking horses Hawke had ever seen. It was a buckskin stallion standing about seventeen hands high with a long neck, a sloping shoulder, a short strong back, a deep heart girth, and a long sloping hip. His musculature was smooth and well-defined. Hawke noticed that his saddle was on the horse.
“How’d my saddle get there?” he asked.
“I knowed you’d left it down to the depot, so I went down and got it. Do you like the horse?” Joey asked.
“Yes, he’s a magnificent animal.”
“I picked ’im out my ownself,” Joey said proudly. “I figured I pick ’im out as iffen I was pickin’ ’im out for me.”
Hawke pulled out a silver dollar and gave it to the boy. “Well, you did a good job, Joey,” he said. “Yes, sir, a find job.”
“Gee, thanks, Mr. Hawke!” the boy said, excited over the dollar.
Dorchester’s ranch, Northumbria, was about five miles north of Green River. Once out of town, Hawke urged the horse, and it responded instantly, going from a walk to a full gallop in a heartbeat. Hawke leaned forward, encouraging the horse to give him all it had. The ground flashed by in a blur, and he had the irrational sensation that if he went any faster, he would fly.
Hawke held the gallop for about two minutes, then eased back and let the horse cool down with a trot, then a briskwalk. Almost before he knew it, he was at the southern boundary of Dorchester’s ranch, indicated by an arched gate with the word NORTHUMBRIA worked in metal across the top.
It was another mile up the road from the entry gate before the house came into view. When Hawke saw the house for the first time, he stopped just to take it in.
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