Read Slickrock (Gail McCarthy Mystery) for Free Online Page A

and had to be sixteen hands tall. Big-boned and heavy-muscled, he looked like a Quarter Horse type. He was a medium dun, a soft dusty gold all over, with a white blaze and a faint dorsal stripe down his back. An easy horse to pick out of a crowd.
    The pack horse was less conspicuous. A small sorrel mare with a little white on her face and a couple of socks, she had no obvious distinguishing characteristics.
    "Are you on your way in?" I asked him.
    "Yeah, we're headed to Snow Lake tonight."
    I looked at him curiously; Snow Lake was my chosen destination for my first day's ride in. "Staying there long?"
    He shrugged. Once again his face seemed withdrawn.
    Whatever. I waved a dismissive hand. "Well, have a good trip."
    "I hope to. You, too."
    "Thanks.”
    He clucked to his horses, said, "Come on" to the dog, and the small entourage moved off, the pack horse dragging a little on the lead rope. I smiled. Plumber had a tendency to do that, too.
    I watched them head down the main trail, small puffs of dust rising around the horses' feet, the dog running in a big curving circle through the meadow. Ahead of them Relief Peak glowed in the early sunlight. Snow Lake was quite a ways on the other side of that mountain, over Brown Bear Pass. A twenty-plus-mile ride.
    Blue Winter and his horses were a small vignette now. A cowboy riding down the trail. I couldn't see the dog.
    Turning, I headed toward the pack station barn. The crew was busily saddling horses and loading packs; it looked as though they had several parties getting ready to go out. Ted stood by the loading dock, talking to a strongly built man with a white straw cowboy hat.
    Both men turned to look at me as I approached; the stranger had a square bulldog jaw and high cheekbones and seemed vaguely familiar. He said something affirmative to Ted and turned away, nodding civilly in my direction. Now where do I know him from, I wondered.
    His back gave no clue; a long-sleeved blue shirt, pressed Wrangler jeans, and dusty boots were so typical as to be almost a uniform. But I'd seen him before, somewhere.
    "Morning, Gail," Ted said.
    "Hi, Ted. Did you call the hospital?"
    "Not yet." His blue eyes looked candidly into mine. "I'll do it when I go in for breakfast." The eyes traveled over me a little, then moved back to my face. "I saw you down there talking to old Blue Winter."
    I smiled. "I'm sure you did."
    Crazy Horse Creek Pack Station was familiarly known as Peyton Pines by everyone who visited it often. New romances, one-night stands, illicit affairs ... the place was known for these, and the whole crew, Ted in particular, loved to gossip.
    "So, do you know Blue?" Ted prodded. "He comes from your part of the country."
    "That's what he said. No, I never met him until yesterday in the bar. Do you guys know him?"
    "Sure. He comes up here every year. Brings his horses, stays a few days, and rides in on a trip. Lonny knows him." Ted laid a little extra emphasis on Lonny's name.
    "Is that right?" For some reason this conversation was annoying me. "Who was that guy you were talking to?" I asked. "I'm sure I know him from somewhere."
    "Dan Jacobi."
    “ The horse trader.”
    “ That’s him.”
    “ He was here last night?” I asked curiously.
    “ Nah. He drove up this morning from Oakdale. He comes up here a lot. Takes a pack trip every summer. He was pretty shook up when he heard about old Bill.
    “ I’ll bet.”
    Ted and I stared at each other a moment. The same thought must have been chasing through both our minds, because he dropped his eyes and said, “I’d better go call. Find out how he is.”
    “ Yeah,” I said. “Let me know.”
    “ Okay.”
    Ted headed for the lodge; I called Roey and wandered around the meadow for awhile, letting the dog run. Eventually I felt a cup of coffee calling me.
    Going into the lobby, I walked past the small café, where paying customers could get meals, and through the kitchen door. Here, amongst an odd old-fashioned collection of