Chapter 16

The Inn was built like a fort ... or the best log cabin you ever imagined. The few windows were high up under the eaves and the door wouldn’t look out of place on a vault. The construction was squared off logs and probably two feet thick. That made me realize the forests here were prime timber cutting territory. Dense and first growth.

They had one of those bristle brushes on a little platform that a caring fella could use to brush off the road filth acquired by walking anywhere in town.

Folks must not have cared because the area surrounding the appliance was the only clean (relative term) place on the boardwalk in front of the inn.

I got to thinking about the nasty shit in the shit and decided I didn’t want to be breathing ... or eating it.

I used the brush. Something told me I was going to get static from somebody about that.

Inside, something was wrong. The place was packed. Men shouting and nobody saying anything ... that could be heard. I stepped back out and shut the door ... couldn’t hear a thing. Like I said ... built.

While I was getting ready to make a second attempt, the rag pile I had sent to the livery with My horses stepped up and handed me two freshly washed belt pouches.

“What’s this?”

“Their goods,” the pile said.

“You retrieved ‘em ... they’re yours.”

The pile shook a third pouch, “I got mine,” and giggled.

“Successful, were they?”

“Yup ... and thanks,” there was a brilliant smile under all that filth. Even teeth that had seen the services of an orthodontist.

“You’re not from around here, are you.” I wasn’t asking. I was telling.

“Nope,” the pile said.

“Maybe ... Cassandra?” I asked.

“You one of them heroes?”

“You in distress?”

“Not any more,” the dirt pile said, and latched onto my arm.

“How long you been here?”

“Seven long years,” she said. “I was beginning to give up hope ... and you showed up.”

“I’m not sure what to do with you. I have a rescue I have to do before I can leave,” I said.

“Well, I can’t stay here ... you won’t want me around when I’m clean,” she said. She shook her dirt pile.

“Clean up good?”

“I guess,” she flashed those teeth again.

Remember that herd of cattle passing through? They had drovers. And the drovers must have finished for the day ... because all of ‘em assaulted the porch of the Inn. Some of them were quite rude about it. There was a passel of ‘em, too.

There was a lot of Yahooin’ and shoving ... and that was before they got in the door. In the melee, the rags and I ended up in the street ... well ... off the end of the Inn’s boardwalk ... on the dirt closer to the stables. There was a lot of thumping transmitted through the logs. Something mighty big was throwing something big against the walls.

“The last thing I need is another fight. We’re already on the way, might as well pay the man his due and hit the hay ... loft.”

And that’s what we did.

I paid ... asked ... paid again ... for both of us.

It was fresh mown and dust free ... hadn’t started decomposing.

We slept like babies in a crib.

This time ... I didn’t have to kill the hostler.

In the morning, we hit the ground running. The breakfast at the Inn was surprisingly tasty. It wasn’t oatmeal ... nor was it cornmeal grits. It must have been a native grain ‘cause it was gooder. A pinch for both of us.

“Doin’s around here last night?” I asked.

“The usual ... rumor has it ... somebody killed the local bad guy. Gonna miss him. He kept the fighting down to a manageable roar.

“If I knew who, I’d open up his rooms.” He didn’t look too hopeful. “Every once in a while the floor groans. Must be a powerful lot of loot.”

“Must be nice.”

“Why? he asked.

“Give it a week, he don’t show ... you keep it.”

NOW he looked hopeful.