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eBook Category: Fantasy/Horror
eBook Description: When Bronx and the Old Man return to Yellow Gulch, they discover the alcohol springs have played out and the town is nearly deserted. Beer-thieves from the next town over have pilfered Yellow Gulch's supply! Can they save Yellow Gulch? And what about those giant demonic armadillos? A rollicking western Cthulhu Mythos adventure, like nothing you've ever read before!

eBook Publisher: Wildside Press, Published: Weird Trails, 2005
Fictionwise Release Date: September 2005

17 Reader Ratings: Great Good OK Poor

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [322 KB], eReader (PDB) [45 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [17 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [16 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [125 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [88 KB], hiebook (KML) [138 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [111 KB], iSilo (PDB) [14 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [18 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [96 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [27 KB]
Words: 4999
Reading time: 14-19 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

"Jumpin' coyotes!" Bronx gave a whistle, twisting in his saddle to look around at all the empty buildings. Windows gaped, their glass broken out. Doors stood open. A pair of tumbleweeds rolled past. A desolate wind moaned. Lonely coyotes barked in the distance.

Something was wrong in Yellow Gulch, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Ghost town," came the Old Man's gravelly voice.

"G-ghosts, suh?" Bronx glanced sidelong at his friend, who merely hawked and spat into the dust.

"Yup," the Old Man said. "I seen it before. Happens when a town goes dry."

"Dry." Bronx's brow furrowed. That meant something bad.

"The alcohol springs musta played out while we was in Mexico. No wonder folks skee-daddled."

"Oh no!" Bronx swallowed hard. He had been looking forward to a tall beer in the saloon. It sounded like he wouldn't get one now.

Their palominos seemed to recognize Yellow Gulch. Though they had been away two long months on a cattle drive, both horses halted at the hitching rail in front of the Scarlet Lady Saloon.

"I need a drink," Bronx said. He had six silver dollars jingling in his pocket--the remains of two months' wages.

"The town's gone dry, Bronx," the Old Man reminded him patiently.

"Oh." Bronx's brow furrowed. That meant something bad. What was it again?

"Yup," said the Old Man. "Alcohol springs're gone. Remember?"

"Oh." Bronx felt near to crying. No beer, then!

As they dismounted, Big Betty, the owner of the Scarlet Lady, pushed open the swinging doors and stared down at them. At six feet tall, dressed in a bright red teddy and black fishnet stockings, she towered over Bronx and the Old Man. Big Betty had obviously been crying. Long black mascara trails ran from her eyes, which were pink and puffy.

"Is she a ghost?" Bronx asked softly.

"Shut up and show some respect for a lady," whispered the Old Man. He took off his hat. "Good day, Miss Betty," he added, slicking back his hair with one hand.

Bronx doffed his Stetson. He liked ladies. Especially big ones.

"Howdy, boys," Big Betty rasped, sounding like a pale shadow of her former self. "What can I get y'all today?"

"Beer, ma'am," said Bronx.

"A bath," said the Old Man.

"Water we got aplenty. For your horses, too. Beer, though..." She gave a little sob. "We've gone dry as the bones of a camel that's lain in the Great Gobi Desert for a year and a day! Twice as dry!"

"How'd it happen, Betty?" asked the Old Man. "Anything we can do to help?"

"Well..." She licked her lips, and suddenly her gaze grew thoughtful. "You boys any good with those guns you-all are totin'?"

"The kid ain't never been beat," said the Old Man proudly. "Me, I'm an explosives man, m'self. Don't do no gunslingin'."

Bronx grinned up at Betty. She had pretty white globes pushing up from the front of her teddy, and he thought he'd like to touch them.

"He's fast?" Big Betty asked.

"I rent my women by the minute!" Bronx said proudly.

"Fast with a gun?" she asked.

Bronx scratched his head, puzzled. "Never tried with a gun," he said. "The barrell's a little small for my--"

"The kid ain't too bright," the Old Man said quickly. "But his heart's in the right place. Put a six-shooter in his hand, face him the right direction, and stand back. He'll blast everything in sight."

Bronx brightened. "Yep!" Blasting things he understood.

As Betty stared appraisingly at him, Bronx drew his pistol like greased lightning, then smoothly reversed it to show off the handle. More than two dozen notches had been carved into the ivory.

"Look!" he said, pointing. "I got me a dozen injuns, two outlaws, a Yankee, and fourteen armadillos!"

"Armadillos?" Betty asked the Old Man.

He shrugged. "The kid's got a thing about 'em," he said apologetically. "T'ain't nothing I can do about it. Musta been skeered by one as a babe."

"That's a mite odd," she said.

The Old Man shrugged. "The kid's all right," he said. "I've known him since he was knee-high to a goat. Since his parents died, I've kinda looked out for him. Kept him on the straight and narrow, as the Good Book says. Saved his life more times than I can count. He'd be lost without me."

"Come on in, boys," Big Betty said. "Let's talk. Maybe you can help me."