jerky to the purchases.
By the time they paid for their supplies, their grubstake had been exhausted.
“I’ll pack your purchases into my wagon and bring them up to the mission,” Hastings said.
“Thank you, Mr. Hastings.”
“Miss O’Grady, I sincerely hope you strike it rich,” he said.
“I think I’ll stop off for a bit of a nip,” Paddy said as they passed the cantina.
“Don’t be too long, Pop. Father Chavez has invited us to dinner.”
Paddy entered the cantina, and to his delight the saloon was empty except for the bartender. “Amigo,” Paddy said, and he slipped an arm around the old man’s shoulders. “I’m going off for a time and will be needing some whiskey.”
The old man stepped behind the bar and put a shot glass down in front of Paddy and filled it.
“No, amigo, ’tis a full bottle I’m seeking,” Paddy said. “But as long as it’s poured, I’ll have me a nip.” He downed the drink, then grinned. “But ’tis an unopened bottle I’m wanting.”
The old man looked perplexed, so Paddy pointed to a sealed bottle among the others on the shelf behind the bar. “Like that one.”
“Oh, sí, señor,” the bartender nodded in understanding. He handed the bottle of tequila to him.
Struggling to conceal his impatience, Paddy said, “No, I want whiskey, my friend.”
The old man threw his hands up and nodded. “Oh, sí, señor, whisky.” He reached under the bar and pulled out a sealed pint bottle. “ Whisky !”
“Aye, that’s close enough. And a fine man you are, indeed.” He held up his hand and counted off his fingers. “’Tis five of them I’m wanting.”
“Cinco!” the old man said excitedly. He opened a cabinet and placed five bottles of whiskey on the bar.
“That’s me man,” Paddy said, pleased. He dug out the money he’d held back from Rory and laid it on the bar as the man wrapped the bottles in a woven straw pouch. After the bartender extracted the cost, several coins remained.
Paddy’s wide grin carried to his eyes. “Well, me friend, there’s enough for us to have another wee nip. Will you do me the pleasure of joining me, amigo?”
Grinning, the old man poured them each a drink.
Paddy raised his glass. “May you be in Heaven ten minutes before the devil knows you’re dead.”
The two old men clinked their glasses together and downed their drinks, then Paddy tipped his hat and picked up the pouch. “Good day, me friend.”
He cocked his derby at a jaunty angle and ambled out the door whistling.
That night they stayed in a room at the mission that Father Chavez kept for the use of travelers, and early the following morning he made another attempt to persuade Rory to remain there.
“It is no place for a woman, my child. The bandidos are very bad and ruthless.”
“I can’t let him go alone, Father. Pop depends on me.”
“And you cannot convince him to abandon this search?”
“I’ve tried, Father, but you can see for yourself; he’s a very stubborn man.”
They climbed on the two mules, Father Chavez stood at the gate of the mission and watched sadly as they departed.
“Vaya con Dios, hijos mios,” he murmured, and made the sign of the cross.
Dismounting, Garth led Boots behind a large boulder. He pulled a small telescope out of his saddlebag, then grabbed his rifle out of the saddle holster and scaled the boulder, stretched out on it, and waited.
Soon he spied a distant movement and brought the spyglass to his eye. From a distance he had thought it was a wolf that had been trailing him for the past few miles, but as it drew nearer he saw that the animal was a shaggy dog.
Within minutes the dog had come close enough for Garth to see that despite the tongue hanging from its mouth, the animal showed no sign of being rabid. He wasn’t going to take any careless chances, though; he cocked the rifle. A wild dog could be as deadly as a wolf, and this dog was following either his or Boots’s scent.
On the other hand,
By the time they paid for their supplies, their grubstake had been exhausted.
“I’ll pack your purchases into my wagon and bring them up to the mission,” Hastings said.
“Thank you, Mr. Hastings.”
“Miss O’Grady, I sincerely hope you strike it rich,” he said.
“I think I’ll stop off for a bit of a nip,” Paddy said as they passed the cantina.
“Don’t be too long, Pop. Father Chavez has invited us to dinner.”
Paddy entered the cantina, and to his delight the saloon was empty except for the bartender. “Amigo,” Paddy said, and he slipped an arm around the old man’s shoulders. “I’m going off for a time and will be needing some whiskey.”
The old man stepped behind the bar and put a shot glass down in front of Paddy and filled it.
“No, amigo, ’tis a full bottle I’m seeking,” Paddy said. “But as long as it’s poured, I’ll have me a nip.” He downed the drink, then grinned. “But ’tis an unopened bottle I’m wanting.”
The old man looked perplexed, so Paddy pointed to a sealed bottle among the others on the shelf behind the bar. “Like that one.”
“Oh, sí, señor,” the bartender nodded in understanding. He handed the bottle of tequila to him.
Struggling to conceal his impatience, Paddy said, “No, I want whiskey, my friend.”
The old man threw his hands up and nodded. “Oh, sí, señor, whisky.” He reached under the bar and pulled out a sealed pint bottle. “ Whisky !”
“Aye, that’s close enough. And a fine man you are, indeed.” He held up his hand and counted off his fingers. “’Tis five of them I’m wanting.”
“Cinco!” the old man said excitedly. He opened a cabinet and placed five bottles of whiskey on the bar.
“That’s me man,” Paddy said, pleased. He dug out the money he’d held back from Rory and laid it on the bar as the man wrapped the bottles in a woven straw pouch. After the bartender extracted the cost, several coins remained.
Paddy’s wide grin carried to his eyes. “Well, me friend, there’s enough for us to have another wee nip. Will you do me the pleasure of joining me, amigo?”
Grinning, the old man poured them each a drink.
Paddy raised his glass. “May you be in Heaven ten minutes before the devil knows you’re dead.”
The two old men clinked their glasses together and downed their drinks, then Paddy tipped his hat and picked up the pouch. “Good day, me friend.”
He cocked his derby at a jaunty angle and ambled out the door whistling.
That night they stayed in a room at the mission that Father Chavez kept for the use of travelers, and early the following morning he made another attempt to persuade Rory to remain there.
“It is no place for a woman, my child. The bandidos are very bad and ruthless.”
“I can’t let him go alone, Father. Pop depends on me.”
“And you cannot convince him to abandon this search?”
“I’ve tried, Father, but you can see for yourself; he’s a very stubborn man.”
They climbed on the two mules, Father Chavez stood at the gate of the mission and watched sadly as they departed.
“Vaya con Dios, hijos mios,” he murmured, and made the sign of the cross.
Dismounting, Garth led Boots behind a large boulder. He pulled a small telescope out of his saddlebag, then grabbed his rifle out of the saddle holster and scaled the boulder, stretched out on it, and waited.
Soon he spied a distant movement and brought the spyglass to his eye. From a distance he had thought it was a wolf that had been trailing him for the past few miles, but as it drew nearer he saw that the animal was a shaggy dog.
Within minutes the dog had come close enough for Garth to see that despite the tongue hanging from its mouth, the animal showed no sign of being rabid. He wasn’t going to take any careless chances, though; he cocked the rifle. A wild dog could be as deadly as a wolf, and this dog was following either his or Boots’s scent.
On the other hand,
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