The Savage Curse by Jory Sherman Read Free Book Online

These boys are going to lead us straight to Hobart.”
    â€œAnd then what?”
    â€œAnd then, I’m going to send Ollie Hobart straight to hell.”

7
    JUBAL MEAD PULLED OUT THE MAKINGS FROM HIS POCKET, GRABBING the loop of the string with one tooth as he fished out the papers. He unfolded the packet, wet the tip of his finger, and stuck it to the top layer of thin paper. In his left hand, he formed a trough of the paper. He put the paper packet back in his pocket, stuck his index finger in the sack opening until it widened. He shook tobacco into the paper and leveled it with his thumb. Then he pulled the loose string taut until the sack closed. He put the sack back into his shirt pocket. Then he rolled the paper back and forth until he had the right consistency, folded the short end inward, rolled it up to the other end, held the ends tightly, and licked the seam with his tongue. When he was finished, he stuck the quirly into his mouth.
    â€œYou got a lucifer, Cruddy?”
    â€œI gave you a box of matches yesterday, Jubal.”
    â€œYeah. Left ’em in my other shirt.”
    Crudder handed him a small box of matches.
    The men smoked, their faces barely lit by the fire inside the hogan. Mead struck a match, lit his cigarette, and handed the box back to Crudder. He looked up at the diamond-strewn sky. It seemed close in the clear air, the Milky Way a vast carpet of silver clusters that blinked like signal mirrors.
    â€œWhat do you think of those new men, Jubal?” Crudder asked.
    â€œNot much.”
    â€œYou think we could use ’em?”
    â€œFor what?”
    â€œOllie wants a bunch of men, he told me. Got something big planned.”
    â€œOllie scares hell out of me,” Mead said.
    â€œYou don’t trust him?”
    â€œAbout as far as I could throw a damned anvil.”
    â€œHe’s fair with his men, I hear.”
    â€œYeah, then how come he don’t have none?”
    â€œThe ones he had with him made some mistakes, got themselves killed.”
    â€œThat bothers me some,” Mead said.
    â€œLuck of the draw,” Crudder said. His face was covered with lumps as if he had been bee-stung. The lumps moved when he talked, giving some the impression that there were worms or some other flesh-eating bugs under those doughy bulges.
    â€œYour tally goes a long way with me,” Mead said, his florid face wreathed with blue smoke from his cigarette. He had a barrel chest and a thick neck that had a goiter bulge in it from drinking too much beer and eating too much fat. He was never far away from an open bottle of one kind or another.
    â€œOllie is a gold hound,” Crudder said.
    â€œHuh?” asked Ward.
    â€œHe can smell gold.”
    â€œOh, I get it,” Mead said. “Like a bloodhound. Only he smells gold.”
    â€œThat’s what I mean,” Crudder said, sparks from his cigarette wafting off the tip like golden fireflies.
    â€œGold has no smell,” Horky said.
    â€œFor Ollie it does,” Crudder said. “He don’t dig it or pan it, though. He finds them what does and then takes it. You heard what he done up in Coloraddy?”
    â€œI heard,” Mead said. “Got him quite a poke.”
    Ward stiffened at the mention of the massacre that involved the death of his brother. These men did not know he had any connection to that slaughter and robbery. But he was interested in what Crudder had to say about Hobart. He had never met Ollie, but he wanted the man to pay for what he had done to all those people, including his brother, Jesse.
    John and Ben came outside, their shadows stretching long ahead of them. The outlaws stopped talking and watched as they came up, joining them under the canopy of stars.
    Ben pulled out his pipe, filled the bowl with tobacco, and tamped it tight. Crudder struck a match and held it out to him.
    Ben put the pipe in his mouth and leaned forward. Crudder touched the flame to the pipe