Riding With the Devil's Mistress (Lou Prophet Western #3) (8 page)

The four men standing at the
bar noticed the barman
’s gaze and turned to follow it to the girl, who
smiled, removed her hat, and tossed it on the chair beside her. She
shook her head, tossing her long, blond hair out from the collar of
her worn poncho, then replaced her chin in her hands.

The barman cleared his throat,
lifted his chin, and called,
‘If you’re waitin’ for the stage, Miss, it don’t
get here till tomorrow noon.’

‘
I’m
not,’ she said.

Puzzled, the barman glanced at
the others. The others glanced at each other. Then the man farthest
on the girl
’s left said, ‘Maybe she’s waitin’ for the
train.’

The others laughed.

‘
Nope.
I ain’t waitin’ for the train, neither,’ she said. ‘I’m just
waitin’.’ Her voice was at once girlish and mature; it was a trait
that made her appealing to men. Especially men, she had found to
her horror, like the ones before her now: denim-clad
hookworms.

The others shared glances again, chuckling.
The four along the bar elbowed each other, snickering. Finally, one
picked up his beer mug and made his way to the table, weaving a
little, sucking in his gut and adjusting the holster tied low on
his thigh. He had curly hair under a battered hat with a funneled
brim, and his brown eyes were bleary.

‘
Well,
you must be waitin’ for somethin’,’ he said when he’d stopped
before her, grinning down at her stupidly.

‘
No,
not really,’ she said. ‘I was just passin’ through and thought I’d
take a breather, maybe have a sarsaparilla’—she glanced at the
barman—’if you have any, sir.’

The man before her laughed.
Turning to the barman he mocked,
‘If you have any, sir.’

The three men at the bar laughed. The barman
turned to them, and he laughed, too.

The man before her turned to
her and planted his left fist on the table, regarding her lewdly,
running his eyes over the two pert swellings in her poncho.
‘Why don’t you have
a beer with me?’ he said. ‘I’ll buy.’

‘
I
don’t much care for spiritous liquids, sir,’ the girl said. ‘My
grandmother raised me to believe they were brewed by the devil and
imbibed by the damned.’

More laughter. The man standing
over the girl smiled down at her, showing his brown teeth.
‘Well, now, how in
the hell would she know? I bet she never drank anything stronger
than goat’s milk. And I bet you haven’t neither, have you,
sweetie?’

The girl
didn
’t
respond to this. She returned the man’s gaze levelly, her hazel
eyes wide and innocent.

‘
Where
you from and where you headed, angel face?’ the man
asked.

‘
I’m
from Minneapolis. My dear grandmother passed away last week, and
I’m off to Montana to find Aunty Gert.’

The man turned to the
others.
‘She’s off to Montana to find her Aunty Gert,’ he said, his
voice teeming with irony.

‘
Ask
her if she wants some company,’ one of the others at the bar
called.

‘
You
heard him, sweetie,’ the man said. ‘You want some company out to
ole Montany, looking for Aunty Gert?’

‘
No,
thank you, sir. But thanks for asking.’

‘
Well,
how about a beer, then?’ the man standing before her
said.

‘
No,
thank you. Like I said...’

‘
Yeah,
I know what you said.’ The man turned to the bartender. ‘Dave,
bring the little miss here a sarsaparilla, an’ put it on my
tab.’

He tossed the
girl
’s hat
off the chair beside her and sat down, turning to face her. She
nearly choked on the beer stench of his breath, but kept her gaze
even and innocent.

‘
Thank
you,’ she said.

When the bartender came with
the sarsaparilla, setting the glass before the girl, the man
sitting beside her said conversationally,
‘So you’re heading to ole Montany,
eh, my sweet?’

The girl sipped her drink
noisily.
‘That’s right,’ she said, wiping her pretty, wide mouth
with the back of her hand.

‘
Better be careful in ole Montany,’ the man said, half
turning to his compatriots at the bar. ‘Montany’s full of one-eyed
snakes.’

One of the men at the bar sprayed beer from
his mouth. The others chuckled and jostled each other.

‘
One-eyed snakes?’ the girl asked.

The men at the bar guffawed.

Smiling, the man seated beside
the girl said,
‘That’s right. There’s a whole bunch of ‘em out ole Montany
way. You’ll want to be careful.’ He turned a cockeyed look at her.
‘You mean to tell me you’ve never seen a one-eyed snake
before?’

The girl thought about it,
rolling up her eyes.
‘Nope. I don’t think so.’ Frowning, she looked at
the man seriously. ‘Are they a type of sidewinder?’

The men at the bar were
laughing so hard they had to
grab the zinc counter to keep from falling
down.

The man sitting next to the
girl dropped his head, then brought it back up, tears rolling down
his cheeks.
‘Yes, ma’am. I guess you could say they’re a type of
sidewinder.’ He paused and squinted his eyes, as though a thought
had just occurred to him. ‘Say, maybe you should see one, so you
know what they look like. That way, if you see one along the trail,
you’ll know to avoid them.’

The girl sipped her sarsaparilla and
shrugged noncommittally.

‘
Yeah,’ the man said, turning to his friends for counsel.
‘Boys, don’t you think this girl should see a one-eyed snake, so
she’ll know what to avoid out in ole Montany?’

‘
I
think that’d only be prudent,’ one of the men said through a belly
laugh.

‘
Why
don’t you come upstairs with me, honey?’ the man beside the girl
said. ‘And I’ll show you a one-eyed snake.’

The girl set her glass down,
frowning.
‘They have one-eyed snakes in Minnesota, too?’

‘
Well,’ the man smiled. ‘There ain’t as many of ‘em
hereabouts, but I’ve got one upstairs ... in a special cage.’ He
put his hand on the back of her chair. ‘Come on. I’ll show
you.’

He turned to the
bartender.
‘Say, Dave, can I have a room for, say, half an
hour?’

‘
Five
minutes, more like,’ one of the man’s friends
interjected.

‘
Yeah,
but it’ll cost you,’ the bartender said.

‘
Put
it on my tab.’ Turning to the girl, the man said, ‘Come on, little
honey. Let’s go upstairs, and I’ll show you my one-eyed
snake.’

The girl rolled her eyes to the
side as she sipped her drink, thinking about it.
‘Nan. I better not.
My grandmother told me never to go off with strange
men.’

The man grabbed her arm,
standing.
‘Come on, little honey. I’m gonna show you my one-eyed
snake.’

‘
No,’
the girl objected as he dragged her to her feet. ‘I told you,
my—’

‘
Yeah,
I know what you’re grandmother said,’ the man said, pulling the
girl away from the table. ‘But granny’s worm food now, and it’s
time you had you a good look at one of them ole one-eyed snakes
you’re gonna be seein’ plenty of out in ole Montany.’

The men at the bar whooped and yelled.

‘
No!’
the girl cried, yanking her hands from the man’s iron
grip.

‘
Hey!’
the man shouted, his face creased with sudden rage. He turned
sharply and smacked her hard with his right fist, sending her
sprawling across two chairs. He grabbed her, yanked her to her
feet, bent down, and threw her over his shoulder. As she kicked and
yelled, pounding his back with her fists, he made his way to the
stairs at the back of the room.

‘
I’m
second,’ one of the men at the bar called.

‘
I’m
third,’ yelled another, raising his fist after the man disappearing
with the girl up the stairs.

‘
Guess
you know what that makes you,’ the bartender said to the fourth
man.

Above them, the girl cried for help.

‘
WELL,
I’LL BE damned,’ Prophet said.

Mean and
Ugly
’s reins
in his hand, he was hunkered on his haunches, studying the horse
sign in the sod. He looked around, then lifted his gaze westward,
turned it south, and sighed. With a gloved finger, he poked his hat
back from his forehead and scowled.

‘
They
split up.’

He heard a snicker. Turning his head, he saw
the man sitting the speckle-gray behind Mean and Ugly. The man was
smiling through the pain of his shattered arm.

‘
What
the hell are they doin’ splittin’ up out here?’ Prophet asked
him.

‘
None
o’ your goddamn business,’ the outlaw groused, wincing as more pain
lanced his arm.

Prophet stood and walked over
to the man.
‘I bet I could make that arm hurt worse,’ he
speculated.

The man looked at him with bright fear in
his eyes.

‘
I bet
all I’d need to do,’ Prophet said, lifting his right hand to the
wounded man’s right wrist, ‘is give your arm a little
yank.’

He tugged on the
man
’s
sleeve. The man yelled, ‘No! No, goddamn you!’

Prophet looked into the
man
’s face,
smiling wistfully. ‘Well, sure enough, I could. Now, tell me, why
would those four that split off from the main group be headin’
south?’

‘
I
don’t know,’ the man yelled, his face bleached with
misery.

‘
Oh,
come on,’ Prophet said. ‘I think you do.’

He reached up and gave the
man
’s right
wrist a pull. The outlaw whipped his head up, howling. Panting, he
said, ‘Ow! Goddamn you, it hurts! Oh, Jesus, don’t do
that!’

‘
Tell
me where those four went. What’s south of here?’

‘
I
don’t know ... well... goddamnit... I reckon they either cut out
for Campbell or Tintah. I reckon Campbell, seein’ as how there’s a
saloon there an’ all...’

‘
You
think they just split off for a drink?’

The scowling firebrand
considered this and shrugged.
‘I reckon they’re thirsty. Ole Newt and Barry—they
can’t be without a drink for long, an’ they ran out of whiskey
around the fire last night. Campbell’s only about three miles
south. Wahpeton’s still another ten miles or so west.’

Prophet ran his thumb along the
line of his unshaven jaw, considering this. He should probably
follow the main group, but he didn
’t want any of these gunnies getting away.
The four would more than likely rejoin the group later—probably in
Wahpeton—but that wasn’t certain.

On the other hand, if they were
drinking heavily in Campbell, they shouldn
’t be all that hard to take down. It
might only take him an hour or so. As far as the kidnapped girl was
concerned, she could be with the four as easily as the larger
group.

Deciding to go after the four,
Prophet unsheathed his
bowie and cut the ropes tying the man’s feet to
his stirrups and his wrists to the horn. ‘Get down.’

‘
Huh?’

‘
Get
down.’

‘
Wha..
. what the hell... ?’

Prophet grabbed the
man
’s
arm.

‘
Oh,
no! Not my arm! Jesus, I heard you!’

Holding his arm stiffly at his
side, the outlaw climbed down from the saddle. Prophet led him over
to a tree, pushed him down, and tied his arms behind the trunk, the
man screaming and cursing him all the while. Apparently, the
position wasn
’t very comfortable for his wounded arm, but Prophet didn’t
care. The man had been with the group who’d murdered innocent
people and taken a helpless girl hostage. Screw his arm.

When he
’d tied the man’s feet together so he
couldn’t move around too much and work his hands free, Prophet led
his horse to another tree, tied him there, then mounted Mean and
Ugly, who’d been waiting, ground-hitched nearby, the dun’s
white-ringed eyes on the speckle-gray.

‘
Let’s
go, hoss,’ Prophet told the horse, reining him away.

‘
You
just gonna leave me here?’ the outlaw called.

‘
That’s right.’

‘
I’m
gonna bleed to death, you damn fool.’