Ace was equally determined that wouldn’t happen, so he didn’t argue with the saloonkeeper’s edict. He wanted to leave and find a place to stay for the night. He had already seen enough of St. Louis to satisfy any curiosity he had about the city. He drained the rest of his beer and told Mike, “Again, sorry for the trouble.”
“Let’s just go,” Chance muttered after swallowing the last of his beer.
They headed for the entrance, moving past several tables full of drinkers and a couple poker games. Chance pushed through the batwings first with Ace right behind him. They went to the hitch rail, untied their horses, and started along the street leading the animals.
Ace was looking around for a hotel that might be a place they could afford to stay when hands suddenly grabbed him and jerked him away from his horse, flinging him along a narrow alley between two buildings. The hour was late in the afternoon and shadows already gathered in the alley, but as Ace stumbled and then caught his balance, he could see well enough to make out several figures blocking his way back to the street.
A couple of the men had grabbed Chance, too, and dragged him into the narrow alley space. They gave him a hard shove that made him go to one knee. He cursed bitterly as Ace took hold of his arm and helped him up.
“Look what I landed in!” Chance exclaimed.
Ace was less worried about that than he was about the fact that they were surrounded. He recognized not only the burly dockworker called Dave but also the man who had spilled his drink when Chance bumped into him.
“So the two of you are friends,” Ace said.
Dave shook his head and grinned. “Naw, I don’t even know this fella. But we both have friends of our own, and we both know you two need a good stompin’. So that’s what we’re gonna give you.”
With fists flying, the ring of attackers closed in around the Jensen boys.
PINNACLE E-BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 1991 William W. Johnstone
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
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First electronic edition: June 2016
ISBN: 978-0-7860-3899-2
Notes
1 Mark Head was killed around 1847. Shot in the back outside of Taos, New Mexico.
2 Boiled corn meal and water.
The First Mountain Man Page 32