A Cold Hard Trail
Page 23
“What is it, darlin’?” I asked her.
“I forgot to bring me a glass,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”
She went out and closed the door behind her, and I just laid back in that hot sudsy water and relaxed. I tuck me a sip a whiskey, then I leaned my head back on the edge a the tub and closed my eyes. Damn, but I felt good. By and by, I heared the door come open again, and I didn’t even bother to open up my eyes.
“Did you fetch you a glass?” I said.
The next thing I knowed, someone had throwed a towel over my head and was a-pulling on me. I kicked and I hollered, but I never was no good in a fistfight or a rassling match, just only with my six-gun, and so he had me dragged clean outa that tub in most no time atall. I didn’t have no idee what the hell was a-going on. Some big lug had aholt a me from behind and my head all wrapped up in a towel and me nekkid and wet and kicking and a-flailing my arms all around and yelling to high heaven.
Whoever it was had me, he dragged me across the room and poked me out the winder onto the roof what was there what stuck out over the sidewalk a-facing the main street a Fosterville, and then I heared the sound a the winder a-slamming shut. I unwrapped that towel offa my head as fast as I could, and then I seed ole Chastain on the other side a the glass a-looking at me and laughing his ass off. I looked around, and I seed all kinds a folks out on the street a-looking up at me and a-pointing and a-laughing. I turned red all over me.
“Jim,” I yelled. “Open the winder.”
He just laughed the harder. Well, I went to grab up the towel what I had tuck offa my head so I could at least wrap it around my middle parts, you know, but I was so nervous and all that I dropped it, and it went clean offa the edge a that roof. There I was in front a the whole world, or at least in front a the whole entire population a Fosterville, high up on the roof nekkid as a slug.
“Damn it, Chastain,” I hollered out. “You had your damn joke. Let me back in.”
He was still a-standing there at the winder a-looking and a-laughing. And down in the street folks was roaring around and having a great time over my miserableness. They was even a-hollering into the doors a places and calling the folks inside to come out and get a look. One old lady squealed and fell over like she was dead, and some mothers was a-grabbing their little kids and a-pulling them offa the street.
Just then I heared horse hoofs a-pounding down below, and then I heared a voice yelling up at me through all a the other noise.
“Come on, Kid.”
It tuck all what was in me, but I went on over close to the edge a the roof and looked down, and there was Paw a horseback and Zeb, too, and they had my ole horse saddled and waiting. I looked all around, and I knowed I had to do something. So I jumped. I sure did hurt my poor ole balls whenever I landed in that saddle. Then right there on the sidewalk was ole Red, and she was a-holding out my gun belt.
“Here, Kid,” she said.
I grabbed it, and me and Zeb and Paw lit out as fast as we could make our horses go. I tell you what, I was never in my whole life as glad to get out of a town as I was to get outa Fosterville that day.
ST. MARTIN’S PAPERBACKS TITLES BY ROBERT J. CONLEY
FUGITIVE’S TRAIL
A COLD HARD TRAIL
Praise for Robert J. Conley and Fugitive’s Trail
“In Kid Parmlee [Robert Conley] has created a second-hand Billy the Kid who will charm your damned ears off and send you down a trail of fun, frivolity, and adventure. Go buy it right now, read it and enjoy it.”
—Max Evans, author of The Rounders, The Hi-Lo Country, and Bluefeather Fellini
“[Conley is] versatile: poetry, humor, historical Western, mystery, even horror. Now, Kid Parmlee. Neither a traditional general Western character, or a superhero of anti-hero caricature, he is simply Kid Parmlee, a human being. In his pathetic way, Kid Parmlee is not a very good person, but also only as bad as survival requires. Simply clever, good and bad, sad and funny, failure and success … ‘The Kid’ holds up a mirror to the human condition.”
—Don Coldsmith, author of the Spanish Bit Series and Bearer of the Pipe
“Kid Parmlee ain’t much shucks with the King’s English, but he’s loud and clear when he talks with his six-shooter.”
—Elmer Kelton
“Conley’s newest Western … [has] wit and a plot that bounces from one trouble-brewing scene to the next. Simple yet charming prose.”
—Publishers Weekly
A COLD HARD TRAIL
Copyright © 2001 by Robert J. Conley.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / April 2001
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
eISBN 9781429925983
First eBook Edition : May 2011