is.
She sure had ol' Jake danglin'. He was all worked up ove r her. Every time he saw her he, acted like he'd been kicke d in the head."
"Maria ? Is she over at Cherry Hill?"
"Cherry Hill? You must be thinkin' of somebody else.
There's nobody like Maria! They tell me those Spanish ar e somethin' special. Never knew one, m'self."
Handy finished his beer and strolled outside. Cass Bai l ey was nowhere in sight, but Handy had no soone r appeared on the boardwalk than a storm descended upo n him.
It was five feet, three inches of storm, and shaped t o make disaster inviting. Ann Bailey. Her hair was red, an d there was a sprinkling of freckles across her nose, an d what were probably very lovely lips were drawn into a thin line as her boot heels clackity-clacked down the wal k toward him.
"Listen, you! If you're the one who sold my dad a bill o f goods and got him to give up half his ranch -! Why yo u no-good fish-eatin' crow-bait, I've a notion to knock you r eyes out! "
"You've already done that, ma'am. But what's the trou b le? Don't you want your money back?"
"Want it back? Of course, I want it back! But you've n o right to talk my old man into any such deal as that!
Besides, what makes you think you can get it back? Unles s you're one of the outlaws who stole it!"
"Do you live on the ranch?" he asked mildly.
"Where else would I live? In a gopher hole?"
"Ain't no tellin', ma'am, although if you did, that gophe r would feel mighty crowded. Still an' all, I can see wher e makin' my home on the CB might be right nice."
He stepped into the street and tightened the cinch o n the evil-eyed buckskin who stood at the rail lookin g unpleasant.
"Ma'am, I like my eggs over, my bacon not quite crisp , and my coffee black and strong. You just be expectin' m e now! '
Handy reined the buckskin around and loped away dow n the street, followed by some language that, while no t profane, certainly made profanity unnecessary.
"Spirit, he told the buckskin, that's what I like!" Th e buckskin laid back his ears and told himself, 'You just wai t until the next frosty morning, cowhand, and I'll show yo u spirit!'
Hondo could have doubled for Pagosa, except that th e Star Saloon was two doors further along the street and wa s called the Remuda, probably because they played so muc h stud.
The bartender was fat, round, and pink-cheeked. H e was also, by looks and sound, very definitely an Irishman.
"I'm not one of the fighting Irish," he said, "I'm one of th e loving Irish, and I like the girls when they're fair, fat, an d forty."
"You wouldn't like Maria, then," Handy commented. "I h ear she's slim, dark, and twenty."
"Don't you get any ideas, cowboy. Maria's spoken for.
Her time's taken. Anyway, from a mere sideline observe r I'd guess that twenty was a shade closer to thirty. Bu t she's spoken for."
"I heard about Salter," Handy said.
The bartender's smile was tolerant, the smile of on e who knows. "That's what Salter thinks! Maria is Buc k Rodd's girl. She lets Salter hang around because he buy s her things, and that's all it amounts to.
"Believe me," the bartender took a quick glance aroun d the empty room and lowered his voice, "if she's smart sh e won't try any funny business with Buck Rodd!"
-Heard of him, said Handy, who hadn't , and tha t crowd he runs with."
"You'll be liable to hear more before the day's over, i f you stay in town. Buck rode in last night with that whol e crowd, Shorty Hazel, Wing Mathy, Gan Carrero, an d some other gent."
"That's enough for me," Handy said, finishing his beer.
"I never heard of Maria. I'll stick to blondes when I'm i n Hondo."
The bartender chuckled agreement and Handy wen t outside, where he found a chair and settled down to doz e away what remained of the afternoon.
"The trouble with folks," Handy mused, "is they mak e it hard for themselves. A man leaves more than one kin d of a trail. If you can't find the tracks that shows where h e went you can nearly always back-track
She sure had ol' Jake danglin'. He was all worked up ove r her. Every time he saw her he, acted like he'd been kicke d in the head."
"Maria ? Is she over at Cherry Hill?"
"Cherry Hill? You must be thinkin' of somebody else.
There's nobody like Maria! They tell me those Spanish ar e somethin' special. Never knew one, m'self."
Handy finished his beer and strolled outside. Cass Bai l ey was nowhere in sight, but Handy had no soone r appeared on the boardwalk than a storm descended upo n him.
It was five feet, three inches of storm, and shaped t o make disaster inviting. Ann Bailey. Her hair was red, an d there was a sprinkling of freckles across her nose, an d what were probably very lovely lips were drawn into a thin line as her boot heels clackity-clacked down the wal k toward him.
"Listen, you! If you're the one who sold my dad a bill o f goods and got him to give up half his ranch -! Why yo u no-good fish-eatin' crow-bait, I've a notion to knock you r eyes out! "
"You've already done that, ma'am. But what's the trou b le? Don't you want your money back?"
"Want it back? Of course, I want it back! But you've n o right to talk my old man into any such deal as that!
Besides, what makes you think you can get it back? Unles s you're one of the outlaws who stole it!"
"Do you live on the ranch?" he asked mildly.
"Where else would I live? In a gopher hole?"
"Ain't no tellin', ma'am, although if you did, that gophe r would feel mighty crowded. Still an' all, I can see wher e makin' my home on the CB might be right nice."
He stepped into the street and tightened the cinch o n the evil-eyed buckskin who stood at the rail lookin g unpleasant.
"Ma'am, I like my eggs over, my bacon not quite crisp , and my coffee black and strong. You just be expectin' m e now! '
Handy reined the buckskin around and loped away dow n the street, followed by some language that, while no t profane, certainly made profanity unnecessary.
"Spirit, he told the buckskin, that's what I like!" Th e buckskin laid back his ears and told himself, 'You just wai t until the next frosty morning, cowhand, and I'll show yo u spirit!'
Hondo could have doubled for Pagosa, except that th e Star Saloon was two doors further along the street and wa s called the Remuda, probably because they played so muc h stud.
The bartender was fat, round, and pink-cheeked. H e was also, by looks and sound, very definitely an Irishman.
"I'm not one of the fighting Irish," he said, "I'm one of th e loving Irish, and I like the girls when they're fair, fat, an d forty."
"You wouldn't like Maria, then," Handy commented. "I h ear she's slim, dark, and twenty."
"Don't you get any ideas, cowboy. Maria's spoken for.
Her time's taken. Anyway, from a mere sideline observe r I'd guess that twenty was a shade closer to thirty. Bu t she's spoken for."
"I heard about Salter," Handy said.
The bartender's smile was tolerant, the smile of on e who knows. "That's what Salter thinks! Maria is Buc k Rodd's girl. She lets Salter hang around because he buy s her things, and that's all it amounts to.
"Believe me," the bartender took a quick glance aroun d the empty room and lowered his voice, "if she's smart sh e won't try any funny business with Buck Rodd!"
-Heard of him, said Handy, who hadn't , and tha t crowd he runs with."
"You'll be liable to hear more before the day's over, i f you stay in town. Buck rode in last night with that whol e crowd, Shorty Hazel, Wing Mathy, Gan Carrero, an d some other gent."
"That's enough for me," Handy said, finishing his beer.
"I never heard of Maria. I'll stick to blondes when I'm i n Hondo."
The bartender chuckled agreement and Handy wen t outside, where he found a chair and settled down to doz e away what remained of the afternoon.
"The trouble with folks," Handy mused, "is they mak e it hard for themselves. A man leaves more than one kin d of a trail. If you can't find the tracks that shows where h e went you can nearly always back-track
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