Riding With the Devil's Mistress (Lou Prophet Western #3) (33 page)

The fire ring was a mound of
gray ashes, the coffee pot cold. Directly across the dead fire lay
the deputy, curled under his blanket. To Mcllroy
’s left lay the two British
women, nestled under the blankets Prophet had gleaned from the
soogans he’d found in the lean-to. They’d both murmured in troubled
dreams all night, but at the moment the women appeared to be
resting contentedly.

So not to disturb
them—he
’d
let them sleep another hour—Prophet turned quietly to his right,
looking for Louisa where she’d spread her blankets the night before
not far from his side.

All that was there, however, was a
rectangular patch of matted grass. Louisa, her saddle, and her
soogan were gone!

Resisting the urge to cuss aloud, Prophet
tossed his blanket aside and climbed to his feet, looking around.
There was no sign of her. Grabbing his gunbelt and hat, he headed
around the cabin to the corral.

The horses snorted as he approached and
looked over the top corral slat, sweeping the remuda with his gaze
and setting his jaw when he saw the Morgan was gone.

Saddled up and gone, with Louisa on his
back...

‘
The
girl gone?’

Prophet turned to see Mcllroy walking toward
him, wrapping his gunbelt around his waist, his dusty, wrinkled
frock coat flapping like huge bat wings.

‘
Yeah,’ Prophet groused, drawing the word out for
emphasis.

‘
She’s
hell in a saddle, isn’t she?’

‘
I
could tell you stories.’ Prophet stared down at the fresh tracks
leading from the corral and southward out of the yard. To Mcllroy,
he said, ‘See the Englishers back to Fargo, will you, kid? I’m
going after Louisa.’

Prophet started toward the
lean-to for his saddle, but
stopped when Mcllroy place a freckled hand on his
shoulder. ‘Hey, wait a minute, Prophet. First off, I’m no kid.
Second, it’s my official duty to track Handsome Dave
Duvall.’

‘
Yeah?’ Prophet said, a cunning twinkle in his eyes. ‘Who’s
gonna see the Englishers back to Fargo?’

Mcllroy stared at him. Then he
sighed.
‘I
don’t suppose you ... ?’

Prophet shook his head,
grinning. Placing his own paw on the crestfallen
deputy
’s
shoulder, he said, ‘Now you see why freelancing’s the only way to
go? I’m not responsible to anyone but myself.’ Seeing Mean and Ugly
staring at him over the corral fence, Prophet added, ‘Oh, and my
horse, of course.’

He patted the
deputy
’s
shoulder and headed into the lean-to. Ten minutes later, he led the
saddled horse out of the corral, Mcllroy opening the rickety gate
for him.

‘
Well,
it was nice ridin’ with you, Zeke,’ Prophet said, turning out a
stirrup and poking his boot through. ‘Maybe see ya around
sometime.’

‘
You
mean that?’

Prophet looked at the young
man, Mcllroy
’s face shaded by the brim of his snuff-colored Stetson.
‘Mean what?’

‘
That
it was nice ridin’ with me. I mean, not that I care what an old,
down-at-heel bounty hunter has to say, but— you know—since you been
down the river a few times ...’

‘
Hey,
I ain’t as old as I look, kid,’ Prophet said with mock severity,
leaning out from his saddle. ‘But after the sand you showed in the
cabin last night, you can ride any river with me you want—though
I’d just as soon you pocketed that shiny silver star when you
did.’

With that, Prophet reached out
and tugged the deputy
’s hat brim over his eyes, then kneed Mean and
Ugly into a canter.

He stopped when he heard a
female voice call,
‘Say, there . . . can one of you direct us to the
lavat’ry?’

The duchess stood beside the cabin, holding
the hand of her glum friend. Both women were wrapped in their
blankets, their tangled hair drooping past their shoulders, the
hems of their expensive gowns soaked from the morning dew.

Prophet chuckled and glanced at
Mcllroy.
‘The deputy’ll direct ye straightaway,’ he hollered to the
women.

Craning around to grin at the deputy, he
touched his hat brim in a mock salute, gave a laugh, and gigged his
horse southward out of the yard. Mcllroy watched him—a big,
broad-shouldered man with a sawed-off shotgun hanging down his
back, riding an ornery line-back dun.

‘
Be
seeing you again soon, Prophet,’ the deputy said with a dry
chuckle. ‘Lord help me....’

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