Outcast Read Free Page A

stood on a corner with a wagon-wide door opening on both streets. The blacksmith looked up from his forge as Standish stepped through.
    â€œWhat I do for you?”
    â€œI’d like to have Sally shod and brushed. I’d like to leave her here for a couple of hours.”
    The blacksmith stepped to a bucket beside the forge. He dipped his hands into the cold water, scrubbing them against each other and wiping them on his trousers. He walked to Sally holding his hand toward her and talking softly in a language that Standish didn’t understand.
    Sally nodded and pawed at the street.
    â€œJa, she is a good horse. A very nice horse, but she has had some hard time?”
    â€œWe just came out of the mountains.”
    The blacksmith nodded. “She take good care of you?”
    Standish nodded.
    The blacksmith returned his attention to Sally. “Perhaps you would allow me to look at your feet, ja?”
    Sally nickered.
    The blacksmith reached down and picked up her hoof. He nodded. “Ja, she needs new shoes. The man he shod her last time he was you?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œGood, then I can tell you that he didn’t do a very good job. I will do a good job, ja?”
    Standish nodded.
    The blacksmith stuck out his hand. “Kabanov.”
    â€œNice to meet you, Mr. Kabanov,” Standish said. “Two hours time enough?”
    â€œThis Sally, she will be dancing when you get back.”
    Standish grinned. “I’ll be back in two hours.”
    â€œYou didn’t ask how much.”
    â€œA workman is worthy of his hire.”
    Kabonov nodded and bowed slightly. “Ja, this Sally she will be dancing when you get back.”
    Standish waved and stepped back on the street. He waded through the sunshine, wishing that he could take off his hat and open his face to the warmth, but that would come later. Now he must hide his face in shadow.
    The courthouse wasn’t the barn-like structure the shopkeeper had described. It was a barn. Standish stepped through the door into a dark, ill-lit building. Employees sat at desks, wrapped in their coats and lap blankets.
    One bundle of clothing looked up as Standish entered. A pale glimpse of a face appeared. “Can I help you?” she asked.
    For a moment, Standish forgot his purpose in coming to the building. “Is it always this cold in here?”
    The bundle of clothing shook her head. “No, this afternoon it will be intolerably warm. Still, it will be just as dark, and by that time, smoke from the lanterns will have erased any light they emit. So we will sit in the dark and perspire. In the mornings, we sit in the dark and shiver.”
    â€œIt’s a beautiful day.”
    â€œNot in here.”
    â€œI have a stick of licorice.”
    The bundle of clothing cocked its head. “That might help.”
    Standish held the sack of candy toward the woman. She reached for it, fumbling. “Sorry,” she said. “I should have known better than to try to find licorice in the dark.”
    Standish chuckled and so did the woman.
    â€œSo what can I do for you, purveyor of treats?”
    â€œYou could tell me where the clerk and recorder is.”
    â€œWest four steps and south three.”
    Standish chuckled again.
    â€œThe man with the black suit, black tie and black heart.”
    â€œThis has been an enlightening meeting,” Standish said.
    â€œâ€™Twas sweet indeed,” she replied, reaching for another piece of licorice.
    The clerk looked up as Standish stepped in front of his desk. Standish was a black shadow against the pale light in the building. Hints of Standish’s rough wool pants and flannel shirt was enough. The clerk sighed. He seemed fated to deal with one damn honyocker after another. Still he would be on bended knee to them when the next election rolled around.
    â€œWhat can I do for you?” he asked.
    â€œI’m interested in some land.”
    The clerk’s grin