By William Meador
Nate Carter, is
he sinner or saint? Is he, like an aunt known as him, "A weasel, an egg sucking skunk and a fowl stealing dog?" you opt. This guy used to be classified through his family members as a schemer, a thief, and a scoundrel, yet actually he might be none of these issues. you choose.
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The trail lay plain before them and in some places ruts were cut deep in the rock and soil. Nate looked at the trail and wished the rocks could talk. ” Nate, never having seen mountains and valleys before, rode along awed by how big the country appeared. In places he saw for perhaps fifty to one hundred miles. Peaks drifted in and out of sight in the haze and mist of the day. At times they seemed close, and then they retreated into the vapor rising from the land and could not be seen. Peaks, mesas, points, ridges and abutments adorned the terrain.
Then in broken English he said, “We don’t serve the gringo. Some gringos are bad medicine. Gringos abuse our women. ” He spat toward Nate. ” “Si, but we do not want him here now. ” Juan continued, “But, Senor, I have ridden many miles with this man over the last several months. ” The bartender remained very skeptical, “How do we know you tell the truth? ” Juan stood for a moment. “Why don’t you call the priest? He was in Brogado only a few days ago. The priest rode up here with us. He spent nights on the trail in our camp.
When they reached the cantina, Nate instantly knew things were not right. The hair on the back of his neck stood erect. When this feeling crept over him, he instinctively knew something bad awaited him in the cantina. With an uneasy feeling, he just kept the blanket around him. The ten-gauge remained out of sight under the blanket. He didn’t know what was wrong, but the electricity in the air made his scalp tingle. He motioned for Juan to join him at a table in the front corner. The second he sat down, he knew the problem.