Last Train to Bannock [Clayburn 02] by Marvin H. Albert Read Free Book Online Page A

you the truth. But they say I threw him across the saloon and smashed the back-bar mirror with him. Then it seems all these friends of his jumped me." He shook his head sadly. "I did a lot of damage. Breakage and doctor bills and my fine came to three hundred and twenty dollars. I'd spent every cent I had on the liquor and couldn't pay it, so they sentenced me to thirty-two days-one day for every ten dollars."
        Clayburn eyed him calculatingly. "You go on tears like that very often?"
        "I sure don't. Last time I did anything like that was more'n two years ago. And I ain't likely to do it again. I'm going crazy, shut up in here like this."
        The rear door of the marshal's office opened. A deputy came into their cell carrying a pot of steaming coffee and a tray with cups and fat rolls on it. He was a compact, wiry blond in his middle twenties, with a cheerfully ugly, pug-nosed face. "Fresh rolls," he announced as he sat down beside Kosta. "Bakery round the corner just fished 'em out of the oven." He set the tray on the floor between the bunks and grinned at Clayburn. "You look pretty fit for a man's just took a bad licking. My name's Jim Roud. I'm in charge around here for the marshal, daytimes. So anything you need…"
        "All I need's some of that coffee."
        "Don't we all." Deputy Roud began pouring into the three cups.
        One of the men in the other cell sat up and whined, "Hey-how about some of that over here?"
        "Shut up and wait!" Roud answered without looking around at the man. "Regular breakfast don't come in for another half hour."
        Clayburn raised his cup to his lips. The coffee scalded going down, but he gulped all of it greedily and refilled his cup before picking up one of the warm rolls. As he ate it and sipped at his second cup, he studied Kosta.
        "Ever handled mule teams, by any chance?"
        The Mexican shook his head, swallowed the chunk of roll he'd been chewing. "Only horses. I've been a blacksmith. But mostly I'm a cook."
        "Best in town," Roud said. "Before you pulled that one-man riot." The deputy looked to Clayburn. "Took five of us to bring him down. He nearly tore my arm off, doing it."
        "I don't remember it," Kosta murmured. "You know I wouldn't do a thing like that sober."
        "Done any trail cooking?" Clayburn asked.
        "Sure. For some of the cattle outfits."
        "Any good with a rifle?"
        Kosta shrugged a massive shoulder. "Like most everybody. Why?"
        "I'm running a string of freight wagons up to Bannock. We still need a couple drivers and guards-and a cook." Clayburn glanced at the deputy. "How many more days has he got to serve?"
        "Fifteen."
        "At ten dollars a day that means he still owes the town a hundred and fifty dollars, right?"
        Jim Roud nodded.
        Clayburn turned back to Kosta. "I might be able to persuade my boss to pay the rest of your fine for you-as an advance on wages. If you're interested."
        Kosta looked at him as though he were his long-lost father. "Interested? I'd crawl all the way to Bannock for a chance to get out of here."
        "We're expecting trouble all along the way," Clayburn warned.
        "What kind?"
        "Snow-if the blizzards hit before we reach Bannock, we could get stuck in the mountains and freeze to death. Apaches-we'll be cutting through hostile territory. And another outfit that's gonna try to stop us from reaching Bannock, or at least to keep us from getting there first."
        He touched a long finger to the plaster stuck on his cheek. "They play rough."
        "You don't know what rough is," Kosta rumbled, "till you been stuck in a little cell long as I have. Get me out of here and you've got a cook. And I can handle a rifle. Damn good."
        Jim Roud was looking thoughtful. "Those guards you were saying you needed… What kind of wages you paying?"
        Clayburn told him about the wages