Dark Trail by Ed Gorman Page A

sorry for the old fellow, don’t you?” Then he looked straight back at Frank and said, “He doesn’t seem to know that his time has passed.”
    With that, Hollister left Frank alone in the park.

Chapter Nine
    When Guild woke up in the morning, the first thing he thought about was his conversation with Hollister and Adair. Guild had said he wouldn’t help them, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t help themselves. Hollister himself would probably go talk to the two gunfighters.
    He ate Mrs.Tomlin’s breakfast too quickly for any real appreciation of the trouble she’d taken with the eggs, bacon, and sliced potatoes. Then he spent his remaining time in the house apologizing for being in such a hurry.
    â€œYou look worried, Leo,” Mrs. Tomlin said.
    â€œI am worried,” Guild said.
    â€œAnything I can do?”
    â€œI wish there was,” Guild said.
    The first place he went looking was the hotel where Frank Evans stayed. He asked the clerk, “You seen Evans this morning?”
    â€œâ€™Bout half an hour ago.”
    â€œOh?”
    The clerk nodded at the door, its windows filled with golden dusty sunshine. “Believe he said he was going for a walk.”
    The town wasn’t that big, Guild reasoned. He shouldn’t have that tough a time finding Evans. Maybe in the meantime he’d run into Ben Rittenauer and have a chance to talk to at least one of them.
    He walked up and down ten blocks of board sidewalk and down dusty alleys. He walked along the river through the park.
    No sign of Evans or Rittenauer. But he kept looking anyway.
    After leaving Hollister, Frank Evans was as exultant as a kid on his birthday. He went to the barber, where he got a good hot shave and his hair slicked down. In the back room were tubs where you could bathe for fifteen cents, so he got himself a good hot bath, too.
    He hated to put on the same dirty clothes, so he sent the black man who worked the tubs for new clothes down the street. He’d have to trust the man’s tastes, but how wrong could you go with a white percale shirt and dark trousers? In the meantime, he splashed rose-smelling after-shave on himself.
    Frank Evans hadn’t spent any money on himself in two months. Cash was so low, he’d been afraid to. Anyway, Beth spent enough money for the both of them. But now that he was actually laying out cash for himself, he felt almost dizzy with pleasure. He felt like his old self again, the tent-show self, the one who swaggered around playing the grim gunfighter to the awed rubes. This self spent as much money on himself as he chose.
    The black man was back in fifteen minutes. He’d done a good job choosing clothes, so Frank tipped him a quarter. The man thanked him five times.
    After he left the barbershop, smelling and looking brand-new, Frank headed down the street to where a plump Slavic woman was selling flowers. He bought a half-dozen roses, pricking himself on one of the thorns. Then he went back to his hotel.
    Ten thousand dollars. It was all he could think of. Ten thousand dollars. No more dreading that Beth would sneak off and find another man. She’d never leave him when he had ten thousand dollars.
    He eased open the door and went inside.
    She sat at the dressing table combing her beautiful red hair. She wore only a silk undergarment that enhanced the full breasts she was so proud of.
    She glanced up at him in the mirror. She was startled by what she saw. He’d left unshaven and rumpled and returned slicked up, wearing different clothes, and bearing flowers.
    He went straight over to her and kissed her on the forehead and then grandly presented her with the roses.
    She cradled the wrapped flowers as if they were a precious infant and said, “You seem to be celebrating, Frank.”
    â€œI am.”
    â€œNew clothes and a shave and—”
    â€œBy tomorrow morning, we’re going to have ten thousand dollars