The hitchhiker wore Levis, a bright red and white checked flannel shirt, cowboy boots and a flat-crowned black Stetson hat.
Johnny began applying the brakes and then emitted a low whistle. “He’s a she!”
And it was — a girl wearing a man’s western outfit. A girl with golden hair, not quite concealed under her hat. A girl with finely chiseled features and a complexion like golden honey.
Johnny leaned across Sam. “Lift?” he called to the girl.
Although she had given them the thumb from a distance, she seemed suddenly not so sure that she wanted a lift; two men in a coupe — two big men. It would be a tight fit.
“My horse threw me,” she said. “And I’m not used to walking in these boots.”
Sam swung open the door and slid over closer to Johnny.
“Hop in, sister!”
The girl gave Sam a sharp glance. Then she got into the car. Johnny threw the gear shift lever into second, but held his foot on the clutch. “What about your horse? I don’t see any around.”
“Oh, he’s probably back at the place by now. He threw me ten minutes ago.”
Johnny let out the clutch and the car leaped forward. “Live in town?”
“Oh, no, I’m just in Las Vegas for... for a visit...”
Johnny grinned. “A six-weeks’ visit.” Then, as she made no reply to that, “Kinda young to be getting divorced.”
“I beg your pardon!”
“Oh, no offense. I was just thinking you look almost too young to get married, much less divorced...”
She said coldly, “You can drop me at The Last Frontier, over there on the left.”
“Staying there?”
“I’m staying at El Casa Rancho,” she said, “but I can get a cab at The Last Frontier.”
“Oh, we’ll drive you all the way,” Johnny said easily.
He glanced out at The Last Frontier, a magnificent tribute to the laws of Nevada which made gambling a legal — and the chief — business of the state.
Beyond The Last Frontier was El Rancho Vegas, every bit as large and luxurious. A half mile more and the third luxury hotel and casino appeared — El Casa Rancho, almost a principality of its own; a main hotel and casino and dozens of cabanas and hotel cabins sprawled behind it. The place had private macadam drives, a little green park of its own, a swimming pool and “health” club. You could lose your money here and still enjoy yourself.
Sam whistled as Johnny turned into the El Casa Rancho drive. “Some layout. What do they charge you a day?”
The girl ignored Sam. She began opening the door. “Thank you,” she said, “thank you for the lift. I’m sorry I have no money with me, but if you’ll wait...”
“Oh, that’s all right, babe,” Johnny chuckled. “Maybe you can give us a lift sometime.”
She got out of the car and without looking around, entered the hotel. Johnny shook his head and drove around a circular flower bed. “It’s a little early, so we’ll run into town and get some breakfast, then come back and see what’s what...”
“You were kinda rough on the kid, Johnny,” said Sam.
Johnny shrugged. “A girl who can’t ride a horse has no business being out on the desert before sunrise.”
“I didn’t mean about that. The divorce stuff... s’pose that’s what she’s here for?”
“Nevada has two industries,” Johnny said. “Gambling and divorces. Men come here for gambling; women for divorces.”
Chapter Four
The city of Las Vegas began a short distance beyond the luxurious El Casa Rancho.
After a few minutes Johnny turned into Fremont Street and Sam Cragg exclaimed, “Look at those signs! Every place is a gambling joint.”
Johnny grinned crookedly. “Looks like we’re going to have a bit of trouble finding the one that’ll accept our check.”
Sam scowled. “You ain’t kidding!”
Johnny parked in front of an all night restaurant. There was a lunch counter down one side and a row of booths on the other. Every available bit of wall space contained slot machines, nickel, dime, quarter and half-dollar machines.
Johnny chuckled. “One-arm bandits.”
They seated themselves at the counter and picked up menus. The prices were quite reasonable. “Let’s have a good breakfast, at least,” Johnny said. They ordered ham and eggs and coffee, which would cost them fifty-five cents apiece.
“A dollar-ten,” Johnny said, “that leaves us thirty-five cents.” His eyes went to the slot machines.
Sam exclaimed. “No, Johnny!”
“What can we do with thirty-five cents?” Johnny got off his stool and went to one of the nickel machines.
He dropped in a nickel and pulled down the lever. The machine whirred and the “fruit” cylinders spun merrily. They stopped with a bang on three cherries and twelve nickels plumped into the slot below.
Johnny and Sam exchanged amazed glances. Then, without a word, Johnny scopped out the nickels and took them to the cashier. “Give me dimes for these.”
He got six dimes and took them to a dime machine. He fed them in one after the other and the machine retained them without paying any dividends.
“That machine was a come-on,” Sam said, bitterly.
There was thirty cents left of the original stake. Johnny got rid of the nickel in the nickel machine and then produced the quarter that remained over and above the amount necessary to pay for their breakfasts.
“I’ve got a hunch,” he said to Sam Cragg and dropped the quarter into the slot. He pulled down the lever, the cylinders whirred and... Johnny and Sam were total paupers.
Sam Cragg strode to the counter and mounting the stool, began to eat his ham and eggs. After a moment Johnny sat down beside Sam. They ate in complete silence, then left the restaurant and got into the car parked at the curb.
“Well,” said Sam, “what now?”
Johnny looked as the dashboard. “There’s two gallons of gas in the car; we could go about forty miles, which would leave us in the middle of nowhere.”
“What about the purple check?”
Johnny brightened, and reaching into his pocket, brought out the pack of cards, as well as the purple check. “Most of the places are still closed, but we might as well try those that are open, beginning with El Casa Rancho where we left the girl.”
He reached forward, turned the ignition key and stepped on the starter. The motor caught and he started a U-turn in the middle of the street. Before the turn was completed a man was springing into the street from the sidewalk. His hand was up in the air, palm turned toward Johnny Fletcher.
“A cop!” cried Sam.
Johnny stopped the car. “Want a lift?” he asked, innocently. The policeman wore plainclothes, but there was a broad leather belt under his coat, which contained a holster.
He came over to Johnny’s side of the car. “Stranger in town?”
“Just got in a half hour ago.”
“Passing through?”
“Why, no,” said Johnny, “we thought we’d stay a day or two.”
The policeman nodded. “All right, have a good time, but don’t make any more U-turns in the middle of the street. Catch on?”
“I catch,” said Johnny.
The policeman returned to the sidewalk and Johnny started the car again. Sam, beside him, exhaled in relief. “I thought sure he was gonna pinch us.”
“Nah, not in this town. They like people to stay here and spend their money.”
He turned right on 3rd Street and a few minutes later drove into the wide drive in front of El Casa Rancho. He parked the old coupe in a parking space and climbing out, headed for the hotel entrance. Sam fell in beside him.