Message on the Wind by J. R. Roberts Read Free Book Online

here,” Deputy Bennett said. “The Gunsmith don’t just come to a town for no reason.”
    â€œMaybe he’s lookin’ for somebody,” Stone said.
    â€œYeah, but who?” Bennett asked.
    â€œWhoever it is,” Stone said. “I’m glad I ain’t them. Look, are we really gonna make rounds again so soon?”
    â€œWhy don’t we switch up?” Bennett suggested. “You make mine and I’ll make yours this time.”
    â€œOkay,” Stone said. “I don’t mind that.”
    â€œI don’t either,” Bennett said. “I’ll see ya later, Dan.”
    â€œOkay, Teddy.”
    Teddy Bennett watched Dan Stone go off to make his rounds, then turned and headed the other way. Switching their rounds would enable him to go and see a man who would find Clint Adams’s presence in Yuma very interesting.
    Â 
    Mike Callum sat at a table alone in the back of the Red Bear Saloon. He drank there because it was one of Yuma’s smaller drinking establishments, with no dancing, music, or gambling to distract from the business of drinking. He also liked the painting behind the bar of a red grizzly bear standing up on its hind legs. He often thought that the look on the bear’s face reflected how he felt inside.
    Callum was forty-two, and figured Yuma was his last stop on a life that had seen him chasing a reputation at every turn. The only reputation he’d managed to cultivate was as a man nobody in Yuma wanted to drink with. Well, that was fine with him. He didn’t want to drink with any of them, either. But Callum knew something about himself that nobody else knew. He was good with a gun, maybe the best he’d ever seen, but he’d never had a chance to prove it—not in public, where everyone could see. He’d done everything from being a cowboy to being a lawman, with stops at bounty hunter, range detective, and outlaw in between. He’d outdrawn and killed men with reputations, but he only had his own word for that.
    He poured himself another whiskey. He was about two more glasses from being cross-eyed drunk, but he was in no hurry. He liked the slow ascent to that kind of oblivion, and he liked to be able to taste the whiskey all the way. The only time he didn’t like the taste of whiskey was when it was stale on his tongue in the morning.
    That was why he kept an open bottle by his bed, so he could refresh the taste as soon as he woke up.
    Mike Callum also figured he was about the width of a cunt hair from being the town drunk.
    Â 
    When Deputy Teddy Bennett entered the Red Bear, he immediately spotted Mike Callum sitting in the back, working on a bottle of whiskey. He had no idea how many bottles had been drunk that day, but he hoped his friend was still conscious. He’d seen the man drink with his eyes open before, while unconscious.
    He walked to the back and sat down opposite Callum. The man looked across at him blearily, but was still somewhat conscious.
    â€œHey, Mike,” Bennett said.
    â€œTeddy?” Callum said. “Hey, Teddy Bennett, my only friend in Yuma. Hell, my only friend anywhere.” Callum found that funny and began to cackle.
    â€œMike, come on,” Bennett said. “I got somethin’ important to tell ya, and ya gotta be able to hear me.”
    â€œHear ya?” Callum asked. “Hell, I can hear ya, Teddy. Ya wanna drink?”
    â€œNo, I don’t want a drink,” Bennett said. “I’m on duty.”
    â€œHey, that’s right,” Callum said. “My friend Teddy is a deputy!”
    â€œA deputy with news for you, Mike,” Bennett said. “News you been waitin’ for your whole life.”
    â€œMy whole life?” Callum asked, squinting at Bennett across the table.
    â€œYeah, Mike, your whole life. Listen, I’m gonna get you some coffee and then we’re gonna