Outlaw Hell by Len Levinson Read Free Book Online Page A

placed his arm around Duane's shoulder and led him down the alley. “By the Jesus, they said yer paw had a fast hand too. A lot of people really liked ‘im,but some, well ... it's too bad what happened to the Polka Dots.”
    Duane couldn't resist the opportunity to learn more about his father. Like a moth drawn to flame, he followed the old stablemaster across the street to the Silver Spur Saloon. It was half the size of the Last Chance, thoroughly filthy, with a bar on the left, tables to the right, dance floor in back, no chop counter, and several elderly prostitutes. Twilby bought two glasses of whisky at the bar, then carried them to a table against the back wall. They sat and raised their glasses as word spread through Escondido that the infamous Pecos Kid was in their very midst.
    Twilby leaned toward Duane and said, “I never knew yer father, or Clyde Butterfield, but everybody used to talk about ‘em in the old days. Joe Braddock and Clyde Butterfield was in the Mexican War, and when it was over, they decided to go into business together with a bunch of other ex-soldiers. Texas was wide open then, and if you put yer brand on a steer, it was your'n legally. There wasn't many big ranches, and a lot of cowboys lived in the open with their chuckwagon, if they had a chuckwagon. But we had no law a-tall, and lots of feuds started over cattle. To make a long story short, some rich ranchers said yer paw and his men was rustlers, and tried to arrest ‘em. A range war broke out, and the big ranchers hired fast hands from all over Texas to hunt down yer paw and his boys. They caught ‘em in the Sierra Madre Mountains, and that was theend of the Polka Dots, but to this day, a lot of people in the Pecos country say the Polka Dots was innocent. ‘Course, you'll find others who'd say they was killers, horse thieves, and cattle rustlers.”
    Duane was taken aback by this news. “I thought my father had been hung.”
    â€œNot the way I heard it. They shot him like a dog.”
    The image burned into Duane's mind, his father shot full of holes, writhing on the desert sands. “Do you remember the names of the rich ranchers?”
    Twilby wrinkled his brow. “Don't right recall.”
    â€œIf you remember my father's name, how come you don't remember the people on the other side? Are you afraid I'll go there and start trouble?”
    â€œYou show up in the Pecos country sayin’ yer Joe Braddock's son, you'll git shot on sight. Get it through yer thick skull, kid: there's nawthin’ you can do to bring yer paw back.”
    â€œDid you ever hear anything about Joe Braddock's woman?”
    â€œJoe Braddock had one in every town. I meant no offense, but that's how it was.”
    â€œWhat towns?”
    â€œIf'n I tell you, you'll ride thar first thing in the mornin’. And you'll kill somebody, or somebody'll kill you. You can't look backwards, boy. Life is what you make it.”
    â€œBut I don't remember my parents at all. It'd mean a lot if you'd just tell what you know.”
    Twilby pondered what Duane had said. “I don'tknow a helluva lot, and what you don't know won't hurt you. On the other hand, yer a grown man, and you got a right to hear the truth. Lemme think it over. I gotta go to the piss house. Be right back.”
    Twilby arose from the table before Duane could react. Duane watched the stablemaster go, and meditated upon the revelations just accorded him. Twilby had confirmed certain rumors and scraps that Duane had gleaned since leaving the monastery, but contradicted others. Duane was pleased that his father had gone down fighting instead of getting legally lynched on the main street of somebody's town. A man was an outlaw or hero depending on what side of the gutter you're standing on, Duane told himself.
    An ancient painted harlot approached, placed hands on her bony hips, and winked lewdly. “You look lonesome, cowboy.”
    â€œNot