Catching Henry McCarty
Aka: Billy the Kid
© all rights reserved to Monica P 2010
Pat Garret moved to the earthen brick house with stealth on his mind. He felt a bead of perspire mount upon his brow as he walked up to the house with feet that had hot rivets upon his shoes. His mind perspired as he thought about the last village person that had him a hot tip after his men had moved off in order to make camp. He had just walked in to a bar in order to get a drink when he spied a youngster of about five as he glared at him with eyes that were wide and appealing.
“You know of Henry McCarty?” Garret questioned in jest as he knocked on the bar in order to be given a shot of rye whiskey.
The kid smiled and gave him a toothy grin which had four missing teeth at the front. The kid nodded his head and crooked a finger in order to get Garret to bend low. Then he whispered a name which made Garret's ears burn.
“Mauxwell;” the kid whispered before a barmaid moved in order to pick the kid up and shove him into a corner which had no lone strangers - yet alone a sheriff – hanging around.
“You know of a Maxwell?” questioned Garret to the barman who stiffened a little at the sound of the name.
The barman was just as helpful as he orated a tale which told Garret that he might be housing an outlaw. The barman told he had delivered four bottles to the door of the house, and every time he had been shooed away with a tab under his coat by an unknown stranger. Pat Garret felt his interest spark and he quickly took the shot of rye brandy, paid his bill, and then moved off in the direction which had been outlined during the conversation.