THE TRAIL TO TOMBSTONE 2

dale little was a gambler. he had always been predisposed to bet on just about anything. as he got good at it he found the rewards were better than a full time job. he had bet on the turn of a card or something as simple as which way a bug would crawl. he had been sucsessful more than failing and he didnt have to chet.but he wasnt above mis leading some one into a wager. he had a good heart but was far from being a saint. while in new mexico he had stumbled onto a game that he really liked. he had met a old horse breeder along the border who raised match race horses. the old man had a raised horses few of that day and time could match. he had sold dale a promising young stallion who showing scortching speed over a quarter mile course. as dale traveled west he had stopped in towns along the way and matched his horse with local animals.. so far he was a winner . every where he went. but each town was only good for one or at the most two match races. so he kept moveing west.he didnt hurry. his saddle horse was of good quality and dale wasnt in a hurry to melt him him down under saddle. his little pack horse just ambled along not really working hard to keep up. . dale was liveing a easy life, he had cash in his pocket, and had no debts. life was good as he rode down that long ridge into tombstone. just before dark he could make out the roof tops of the almost ghost town. the mines were flooded and closed, all that kept the little town alive was local ranchers and the reputation for high stakes gambling. eight o clock that night dale ambled down the main street of the little town. a few shops and bars were still open their lights flooding out into the street.at the far end of the street the OK CORRAL stable had a sighn that stood out into the street. when he got there he pulled one of the double doors open and rode in. a line of stalls ran along the west wall. dale put his saddle horse in one and the little pack horse in another. he un saddled and tended to them. he then went out on the street in search of a meal.at a small corner cafe that was trying to close he got a good meal of beef stew and fresh bread and butter. going out side he looked both ways down the street there was a boarding house with a light over the door. he headed there. he would need a bed sooner than later.

THE TRAIL TO TOMBSTONE 1

gleeson was a small mineing community. scattered across the south end of the dragoon mountains there were countless claims being worked by pick and shovel miners. but as small as it was gleeson had a jail, a boarding house and a small cafe. that cafe sat right on the trail to tombstone 20 miles away. the clap board construction was starting to warp you could see day lite between the boards. comming into gleeson from the east rode a man leading a pack horse. his saddle horse was a notch better than most horses of that day and time. and because he was a pack horse no one payed that one any attention. the man rode to the little cafe and dismounted and tied up to a mesquite tree growing at the corner of the building.the rider was just past thirty years old. he wore no side arm. his clothes were just a shade better than the local miners could afford. his brown hair stuck out under the sweat band of his black felt hat. he looked all around as he started into the cafe. it was a long room with a horno stove built at the back a fat, sweating man with a cigar in his mouth was cooking. the rider shuddered. he was hungry. he decided to tough out the filth. when the fat man came to him the rider asked for a bowl of chili. the fat man grunted then turned back to his home made stove. there he filled a bowl from a pot sitting on the back of the stove. the fat man grabbed a bowl of soda crackers as he returned to the rider. he put the chili and the soda crackers on the table before thee rider. the chili was hot, hot from the stove and hot from the chili peppers that floated i it. the rider started in eating it and stuffing the soda crackers in his mouth at the same time. finally between spoon fulls he asked for a glass of water. when through the rider stood up, his face flushed and sweat pouring off his forehead. " how much?" he called to the cook. "50 cents" the fat man said. " worth every penny, thanks" the rider said as he dropped coins on the table. out side he stood on the front porch and surveyed the surrounding area. there was no plannning for the village. houses lay in a haphazzard scramble among the mine claims a miner stepped up to him " arnt you dale little? i think i saw you over in willcox a while back. what you doing here?" "i heard tombstone was a gambling town. thought i would give her a try. i stopped here to eat. ime going on to tombstone.. might be better if i get in there aafter dark any way." dale explained. the miner nodded agreement and went on about his business. dale went to his horses and mounted up and turnned down the long ridge that led to tombstone.