Demon's Pass Read Free Page A

man behind it looking at him.
    â€œBoy, what you doin’ in here? This isn’t a place you can just come in out of the rain,” the man behind the counter said, gruffly.
    â€œI’m looking for Mr. Clay Springer.”
    â€œSpringer. He just check in?”
    Check in wasn’t a term Parker had ever heard used, but he reasoned what it must mean.
    â€œYes, just a few moments ago.”
    â€œYeah, thought that was his name. He’s in room 212.”
    â€œWhere’s that?”
    â€œWell, if it’s 212, it must be on the second floor,” the man said in exasperation.
    â€œOh.”
    The man sighed, and pointed to the stairs. “Go up these stairs,” he said. “It’s the first room on the left.”
    â€œThank you.”
    Parker climbed the stairs, then when he saw the right door, he opened it and went inside. Instantly, he heard a metallic click, and he turned to see Clay holding a cocked pistol leveled toward him. Parker gasped in surprise and took half a step back.
    â€œBoy, don’t frighten me like that,” Clay said, sighing in relief. He released the hammer and lowered the pistol. “Most people knock before they come into someone’s room.”
    â€œYou told me to come on up,” Parker said.
    â€œSo I did,” Clay said.
    â€œWell, that’s just what I done.”
    Clay was in the midst of changing his clothes. He had already put on another pair of trousers, but was bare from the waist up.
    â€œI had some bathwater brought up,” Clay said. “I’ve already taken mine, and the water is still warm, so you can take yours, now. I’ll be back later this afternoon, then we can go downstairs to take our supper. I’ll bet you’ve never eaten in a restaurant either, have you?”
    â€œNo, I haven’t,” Parker admitted. “But, listen, I don’t need a bath. It hasn’t been that long since I had one.”
    Clay smiled at him. “It’s been long enough,” he said. He pointed to the tub. “Take a bath.” Clay started toward the door.
    â€œMr. Springer?”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œAre you going to check on the orphanage?”
    â€œMaybe.”
    â€œI already did,” Parker said.
    Clay stood there with his hand on the door frame. “What did you find out?”
    â€œIt’s like you said. They’ve got one here,” Parker said. He didn’t say anything else about it.
    Clay nodded. “That’s good to know,” he said. He let himself out, then closed the door behind him.
    Â 
    After Clay left the hotel room, Parker got undressed for his bath. He held the pouch of money for a moment, trying to decide what to do with it, then he saw the bed. Hiding the pouch under the mattress, he returned to the tub and slipped down into the still-warm water.
    Don’t forget to wash behind your ears, Parker, his ma’s voice came back to him.
    â€œI won’t, Ma,” Parker said, quietly. “I won’t.”

Chapter 2
    Clay found Marcus Pearson exactly where he thought he would, in the Brown Dirt Cowboy Saloon on Liberty Street. Marcus was the best wagon handler Clay had ever met. He had driven wagons for Clay ever since Clay got into the business, mostly down into Texas, though he also made some trips into Nebraska. They were friends as well as employer and employee, and three years ago the two had even wintered together in the mountains of Colorado, trapping beaver.
    As Marcus once said, “The only way you can get closer to a body than winterin’ with ’em, is to marry ’em.”
    Marcus was a small man, with such weathered skin that he looked seventy, though he was actually just a little over forty. He was missing two fingers on his left hand, the result of getting his hand caught in a trap. Despite the loss of two fingers, he could handle most things as easily as if he had his entire hand, and he demonstrated that now, by