The Fortune Hunters by J. T. Edson Read Free Book Online Page A

something, Joan?’ asked a bouncer, moving forward.
    Some instinct told Joan the two Texans meant her no harm; anyway she reckoned she could handle any cowhand in her own country. Another instinct warned her that it might go badly for the bouncer, despite his superior size and heft, if he tangled with that salty looking brace of Texans.
    ‘It’s all right, Benny,’ she said, then smiled at the Texans. ‘Come on, boys. Do you want a drink?’
    ‘No, ma’am,’ Waco smiled. ‘But you might.’
    ‘Might I?’
    ‘Sure, tna’am. Set, me ‘n’ Lon here, well we know what we’re going to tell you and you don’t.’
    Joan signalled to the nearest waiter and told him to bring a bottle of whisky and three glasses to her at a table. Then she led the Texans clear of the crowd and sat down with them. Already Trent had his show starting on the stage so as to hold on to the customers who came in to see the poker game.
    ‘Do you know why I’ve come with you?’ she asked, determined to get things straight from the start.
    ‘You’re curious,’ Waco suggested.
    ‘And you’re too smooth for your age,’ she answered, hoping to cut him down to size and show him that she was used to older, mature men . ‘I came to see if you boys had a new line. Most of you, depending on how long you’ve been chasing the Swamp Lightning, want to know what a nice gal like me’s doing in a place like this and can you marry me and take me away from it all.’
    ‘Well, we did kind of figger on taking you away from this, all right,’ the Kid admitted.
    ‘And marry me?’ she smiled. ‘Both of you?’
    ‘Always did want to marry rich,’ Waco drawled. ‘But I reckon you’d be too smart to take me.’
    ‘Well, that needn’t worry you. I’m not rich. How about your friend?’
    ‘Me, ma’am?’ grinned the Kid. ‘I wouldn’t marry anybody who’d marry a mean ornery cuss like me. We’d still like to take you out of here and make you rich.’
    The smile left Joan’s face and it set in hard, warning lines. Yet she could not decide what to make of the two cowhands.
    ‘I don’t know where you boys heard about me, or what you heard,’ she said grimly. ‘But you heard wrong.’
    ‘You’re not Joan Shandley, ma’am?’ asked Waco.
    ‘Sure I am. But I don’t—’
    ‘I wouldn’t spit in their faces if their mouths were on fire,’ interrupted the Kid, ‘but I’ll say one thing, Pinkertons aren’t often wrong.’
    ‘How’d you like to be rich, ma’am?’ Waco went on.
    ‘I reckon I’d best get Benny over here.’
    ‘You got a grudge against him or something?’ drawled the Kid. ‘Or maybe you just don’t like the idea of being rich.’
    Joan had started to rise, meaning to yell for the bouncers and to hell with the consequences. Then she sat down again and looked at the two young men. If they were wanting to sleep with her for the night, they sure showed a strange way to go about it. Most men tried to act as if they were doing her a favour and that she ought to be paying them. Not that Joan made a habit of entertaining the customers that way, but a saloongirl often received offers.
    ‘Did you ever see a drama, ma’am, where the heroine buys some old down-and-out drifter a meal, only he comes out to be real rich and leaves her all his money in his will.’
    ‘Sure, I’ve played the heroine,’ she replied. ‘Corn like that goes down well with the rubes.’
    ‘Reckon that play Lon talked about couldn’t come true then?’ Waco grinned.
    ‘I only wish it would for me.’
    Reaching out a hand, Waco took the whisky bottle and poured out a stiff drink, pushing the glass towards Joan.. Then he nodded to the Kid.
    ‘There’s seven of you to share it,’ drawled the Kid, never taking his eyes from Joan’s face. ‘But I’d say your cut’d be nearer two hundred thousand dollars than one.’
    ‘What’s this all about?’ Joan asked, searching their faces for some hint of cowhand humour and finding none.
    ‘Do you