Riding With the Devil's Mistress (Lou Prophet Western #3) (31 page)

‘
Oh
...
no..
.. !’ she cried, knowing that without the gun she had no
chance at all.

Ignoring her scrapes and
scratches, she ran her hands over the dark rocks, feeling for the
revolver. She stopped when a rock tumbled down the slope behind
her, and she heard breathing sounds. Turning slowly, she saw Duvall
standing on the bank, both hands hanging at his sides, his
silver-plated Colt
winking in the moonlight.

After what seemed like hours,
he blew a ragged sigh and said in a low, menacing voice,
‘That wasn’t nice,
killin’ Dayton. That wasn’t nice at all.’

TO LOUISA
’S SURPRISE, and partly to her
chagrin, Duvall did not kill her.

Instead, he leapt down the
bank, grabbed her painfully by the arm and half-dragged her up the
bank, back across the creek and through the trees, summoning his
men. Louisa cried out against Duvall
’s excruciating grip and against the pain
in her knees and shins scraping along the ground.

Most of the men were already in
the cabin yard when Duvall and Louisa got there. Others were
filtering back through the trees behind the lean-to. One man came
out of the lean-to and said grimly.
‘Dayton—he’s deader’n a doornail,
Dave.’

Duvall dragged Louisa to the cabin. He
opened the door and heaved her inside. She flew across the floor
and landed in a heap at the base of the square-hewn center
post.

The red-faced, wide-eyed Duvall
followed her in, his men seeping in around him, and jerked his
finger at Louisa angrily.
‘You’re gonna pay for that, Little Miss! You hear
me? You’re gonna pay for that!’

‘
Here... I’ll finish her right now,’ said one of the men,
walking up to Louisa and drawing his gun.

‘
No!’
Duvall said. ‘That’s too easy. Way too damn easy!’

He stared at Louisa for a long
time as she huddled against the center post, wishing
he
’d end it
once and for all, knowing he wouldn’t. .. knowing she’d be alive a
lot longer tonight than she’d want to be. She stared back at him
and was vaguely surprised at his scrutiny, as though he were seeing
her for the first time.

His men stood around him. Several had rolled
and lighted fresh cigarettes; others were pouring drinks or tipping
back bottles, glowering at the pretty little killer in torn clothes
on the floor. They all shuttled their gazes to Duvall, awaiting his
next move. The air was heavy with the stench of their smoke,
breath, and sweat.

‘
Say,
boys,’ the gang leader finally said, curiously thoughtful. ‘Have we
seen this girl somewhere before?’

Several glanced at him, wonderingly.

‘
What’s that, boss?’ one of them said, clearing his
throat.

Duvall
’s eyes lingered on Louisa, whose
heart was beginning to pound even harder. ‘Have we seen this little
girl. .. this innocent little girl . .. somewhere
before?’

There was a pause filled with
the quiet sounds of the gang
’s breathing and smoking.

‘
Not
sure what you mean, boss,’ another man said from behind a cloud of
cigarette smoke. ‘I’ve never seen her before.’

‘
Well,
I think I have,’ Duvall said. ‘Sure ... I’ve seen her. I’ve seen
her several times in some o’ the towns we pulled through. Don’t you
boys remember seein’ an innocent little blonde in a brown poncho
and ridin’ a black horse. A Morgan horse, like the one Giff McQueen
stole from that breeder down in Arkansas?’

Another pause. All eyes were on Louisa
now.

‘
Just
sittin’ Giff ‘s horse here an’ there, waitin’ on street corners or
sittin’ on steps or lounging around on loafers’ benches in front of
mercantiles an’ such ...’

‘
What
are you sayin’, Dave?’ one of the men asked him,
frowning.

‘
I’m
sayin’ this girl’s been trailin’ us for a long time now. Layin’ for
us. Any of you ever wonder why none of the gang that broke off from
us never showed up again?’

Duvall looked around at the
faces surrounding him and Louisa, a bemused grin pulling at his
wide mouth, his lantern jaw set like a
blacksmith
’s
sledge.

‘
What
about Norall and McQueen? Jimmy Dahl and Fred Barnes? What about
Leach and Sully? They were just gonna take ‘em a little snoozer
south of Fargo. Did they ever show up at Cora’s?’

Duvall looked around the room, at the faces
regarding him with faintly quizzical eyes. Cigarette smoke puffed
and webbed under the low rafters through which the sod roof
bowed.

‘
Guess
we just figured they sorta got sidetracked, kinda,’ someone
said.

Duvall returned his gaze to Louisa, who
stared at him bleach-faced, her chest rising and falling as she
breathed, terror-gripped.

‘
Yeah,
I guess that’s what I figured,’ Duvall said mildly.

Anger shouldering past her
fear, Louisa licked her lips and said,
‘You bastards murdered my family. You
raped my momma and sisters. You killed my pa and my brother James.’
Her eyes pinched and her face flushed as she added, ‘I vowed to
kill you all—to murder you all and send you all to hell where you
belong with the devil! And I got a good many of you, too. More than
I can count on one hand, at least, and that’s something. Lou
Prophet will get the rest of you. He’ll gun you down or watch
you
hang.
Either way, you’re wolf bait—every single one of you greasy sons of
bitches!’

Her heart was hammering now,
and she wanted to charge them, to go out screaming, with blood on
her lips and fingernails. But her legs simply
wouldn
’t
work.

Duvall watched her
dully.
‘Who’s Lou Prophet?’

‘
You’ll know soon enough,’ Louisa spat. ‘You mangy
dog!’

She heaved a deep sigh and
rolled her eyes around, taking in all the faces staring at her, the
men suddenly realizing they
’d not only been duped, but duped by a girl.
Embarrassment mixed with exasperation smoldered far back in their
coal-dark eyes, the lines in their foreheads smoothed out with
half-formed plans for retribution.

The silence was broken by
laughter. Louisa swung her gaze back to Duvall, who was bent over
and laughing so hard he appeared as though he were about to drop to
the floor. He lifted his knee and slapped it, then danced a little
jig, twirling around and lifting his laughing mouth to the rafters,
guffawing as though at the most hilarious story
he
’d heard
in a month of Sundays.

He fell silent as quickly as
he
’d become
hysterical, then twirled toward Louisa. He jerked her up by her
neck, backhanded her once hard, then slapped her with his open
palm. Her head whipped from side to side, her hair flying, but
Duvall kept her from falling by clutching her poncho and shoving
her back against the center post.

He hit her thrice more, and as
she slipped into
semi consciousness, her head pounding and sparks flying
behind her closed eyelids, he flung her through the crowd of men
and onto the eating table on the other side of the cook
stove.

‘
Here
you go, girl,’ Duvall said, unbuttoning his pants. ‘Have you a
little taste o’ what your momma and sisters had, courtesy of Dave
Duvall’s Red River Gang!’

Suddenly there was a loud,
splintering bang, as though
someone had kicked in the door. It was followed by
a barrage of gunfire so loud it shut out all the rest of the world
and set Louisa’s ears to tolling like bells. There were two
cannon-like booms, as though from a double-barrel shotgun; on the
heels of the booms, a rifle cut loose, the shooter jacking and
firing, jacking and firing, his ejected cartridges making a steely
clatter beneath the near-continuous roar of his gun.

Louisa
’s eyes were squeezed shut, but she
was aware of someone jerking her off the table by her arm, of being
thrown over a broad shoulder, of hanging down a tall man’s back as
he hustled her out the door, where the shooting from within the
cabin was quieter, the air cooler and minus the suffocating smell
of gunpowder.

She was lifted onto a saddle and held there
while a man mounted behind her. He was breathing heavily, and
Louisa could feel the heat from his body and sense his
excitement.

‘
Come
on, Deputy!’ Lou Prophet yelled above Louisa’s head, as his horse
fiddle-footed and kicked, ready to gallop. ‘Let’s ride like hell,
boy!’

They were off at a lunge,
riding hard, and Louisa
’s eyes fluttered open. She could see the hilly,
moonlit landscape sliding past, interrupted here and there with
trees and boulders. The horse’s pounding hooves made her head and
body ache, but when all the pieces of the last few minutes arranged
themselves in her brain, she felt lighter somehow, and welcomed
back to the living.

‘
L-Lou?’ she said, turning her head to his wide, sweating
chest behind her.

‘
Just
hold tight, girl. We have some hotfootin’ to do!’

She clamped her hands on the
saddle horn and lowered her head over the horse
’s bouncing mane, hearing the
big horse puffing and snorting as it galloped, feeling the chill
night breeze in her hair.

She was alive....

The Red River Gang
hadn
’t
killed her

Prophet had come for her, like
she
’d known
he would. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed before the horse
slowed suddenly, nudging her up over its head.

‘
Hoah!
Hooooo,’ Prophet yelled.

He turned Mean and Ugly around.
Louisa opened her eyes and saw they
’d been trailing her Morgan. A rider
appear out of the darkness, the moon behind him, lighting his
shoulders. She recoiled and gave a shudder.

‘
It’s
okay, it’s okay,’ Prophet told her, placing a placating hand on her
arm. ‘This is Deputy Mcllroy. He was the one doin’ the shootin’
while I got you out of the cabin.’ Prophet turned to the slender
man, a few inches shorter than himself. ‘You hit?’

The man was so breathless, he
only wagged his head. It was several seconds before he said,
‘No ... I ain’t
hit. .. but they were startin’ to open up on us. Barely made it
out. That was pure-dee craziness, Prophet. There was pret’ near a
dozen men in that cabin.’

‘
How
many you think we hit?’

‘
Well,
you hit at least two with that scattergun of yours—turned ‘em to
blood an’ mush before any of them even knew they had company.’ The
deputy couldn’t help an anxiety-relieving laugh. ‘Jesus Christ!
Then I laid out five or six with my Winchester.’ He wagged his
head. ‘Must’ve got at least that many before they started shootin’
back.’

The deputy removed his hat,
slapped it against his thigh, and shook his head like a runaway
horse.
‘Jesus Christ, Prophet—that was pure-dee crazy!’

‘
Well,
we got Miss Bonny-venture out of there, anyway,’ Prophet said. ‘How
you doin’, girl?’

‘
Much
better, Lou,’ Louisa managed. It was true. In spite of her scrapes
and scratches and the bruises welling on her face, she’d never felt
so good in her life. ‘I knew you’d get them, Lou! I knew you’d lay
them out like the mangy dogs they were!’

‘
Well,
they ain’t all dead,’ Prophet said with a sigh. ‘And the two Brits
are still back there. I s’pect the gang’s feelin’ right surly ‘bout
now, too. They’re probably headin’ our way—what’s left of
‘em.’

‘
What
are we gonna do?’ Mcllroy said. ‘These horses are
exhausted.’

‘
I
reckon we’ll take care of the rest of the gang,’ Prophet said
wistfully, gigging his horse over to a low hill on the east side of
the two-track trail they’d been following. ‘Then we’ll go back for
the two English women. You stay over there, Deputy,’ he said over
his shoulder. ‘Get behind that tree there, and get your rifle
loaded and ready for argument.’

‘
Listen, Prophet,’ Mcllroy called. ‘I’m totin’ a badge,
remember. I have to give those men a chance to give themselves
up.’

Prophet turned,
scowling.
‘You didn’t feel the need back at the cabin!’

‘
That’s because, after assessing the situation, I felt the
girl was in imminent danger. But now, I’m—’

Prophet was angry—exasperated,
in fact.
‘You call to those men before you start shootin’, they’ll
have the upper hand. . . and you’ll be the first son of a bitch I
shoot next!’

The deputy sat his horse in the
middle of the trail and shook his head, giving an exasperated
pshaw.
‘Prophet, you’re just plumb crazy, you know
that?’