Keeper of the Books (Keeper of the Books, Book 1) by Jason D. Morrow Read Free Book Online Page A

to summon a memory, some image to give him a clearer understanding of why he was lying on an uncomfortable bed in a dark room. No, not just any room. He was surrounded by stone walls but for the wall across from him which was nothing but metal bars from floor to ceiling. It was a jail cell.  
    Above and in clear view from his bed, was a tiny window that allowed only the slightest bit of light. Such a glimmer of hope was often meant to provide a prisoner with a sense of remorse and fear that he might never get to fully experience the sun again but for those few precious minutes as he walked to the hanging platform before life was strangled out of him.
    Nate didn’t feel this fear. More than anything, he felt confused. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why he was here at all, or where here was.
    His heart pounded in his chest and threatened to burst if he didn’t sit up straight. Almost in a panic, Nate shot to his rear and held on to the side of the bed with both of his hands. A trickle of sweat ran down his right cheek and he wiped it away hurriedly.
    It was in this moment that he realized he still had his hat on. He reached for it and yanked it off to study it for a second without really having a good reason to do so. Then he looked past his hat to his waist. His belt was pressed firmly against his stomach, a line of cartridges bubbling out in perfect succession. Set on his right hip was his six-shooter.  
    He set his hat back on his head and felt for his chest and back, realizing that his Winchester was secure in its sheath. Somehow, Nate was inside a jail cell and fully armed.
    This didn’t make much sense to him. First of all, he couldn’t remember being put in jail. Second, if someone had thrown him in jail, why would they leave him with his weapons? Nate knew he couldn’t have wandered in here drunk. Even when there was more alcohol in his veins than blood, he tried to keep his wits about him. Nate was never so drunk that he would waltz into a jail cell or allow himself to be captured. There was a chance that he’d passed out and was caught, but that didn’t quite explain why he had his guns with him.
    His next thought was that this was some sort of joke that Joe might be trying to pull over him, but that thought spurred another: he and Joe had been in a cabin. There was a book.  
    Nate reached inside his shirt pocket and grabbed his flask. It was empty. Though that wasn’t something new unto itself, he did remember when he last ran out. Earlier. On his porch. Joe had been pacing back and forth telling Nate about…about…
    The bank robbery… The book…
    Memories flooded into Nate’s mind, one right after the other. They’d been hired to rob a safety deposit box to get something. That something turned out to be a book that had swallowed up Ralph and Stew. Joe brought it back. Nate then took Joe to meet with Tyler Montgomery to get the rest of the payment.  
    Nate stood now as nervousness crept into him. Montgomery had been spouting off some nonsense about a place called Galamore. Then he disappeared into thin air. All of them had been trying to get away from Levi Thompson.  
    Nate swore under his breath. He remembered everything. Tyler Montgomery had gone into the book first. Then Joe. But neither of them were anywhere to be seen.  
    Everything had gone black. That was the last thing Nate remembered. All of that seemed like it had been days ago. Weeks even. He recalled each word spoken, each image of the men’s faces as if it were a story of some distant past.
    Considering he didn’t remember anything between opening the book and waking up in this cell, Nate had to assume that nothing had transpired between those two events. There had been times in Nate’s life where he had suffered from some acute memory loss, whether it be from too much alcohol or an injury, but this wasn’t the same thing. Nate was pretty sure he wasn’t suffering from memory loss at all. Montgomery had said