The Killing Season (19 page)

“You can't scare her,” Jamie said devilishly. “She helped Ma take your britches off.”

“Jamie!” the girl cried, blushing furiously. She kicked him in the shins and turned her back on them.

Nathan flung back the. covers and got shakily to his feet. His wound hurt, but there had been some healing, and he could stand. Quickly he donned his shirt, and by sitting on the bed, pulled on his trousers. He had some difficulty with his left boot, for the pressure strained the muscles of his thigh. When he had his boots on, he stood up and buckled on his Colts. He then spoke quietly.

“All right, Ellie, you can turn around.”

There obviously was no way out of the bedroom except through the kitchen. Nathan waited, listening, but there was no sound except the rattle of dishes. Whatever the trio had in mind, they had discussed it before coming to the house. Nathan kept his silence. If his thinking was sound, Jubal Wells would not return to the bedroom before leaving, and in that event, Nathan vowed they wouldn't ride away until he knew his gold was secure. When the meal was over, chairs scraped the floor as the men pushed away from the table.

“We got some ridin' to do,” said Wells.

With the sound of their leaving, Nathan pushed aside the curtain and stepped into the kitchen. Myra looked at him and spoke softly.

“You shouldn't have gotten up,” she said. “They're leaving again.”

“A mite sudden,” said Nathan, “and cause for me to wonder why. I aim to see them on their way.”

He stepped out the door, limping, taking his time. Jamie and Ellie at her side, Myra watched. As he neared the barn, Nathan Stone no longer limped, and his hands were near the butts of the deadly Colts. He didn't enter the barn, but waited until the trio led their horses out into the open corridor. The big door at the far end of the corridor was closed, so they couldn't evade him. When they saw him standing there, thumbs hooked in his pistol belt, they froze.

“You hombres are in an almighty hurry to be gone,” Nathan said, “and I just want to be sure you don't make the mistake of taking something that's not yours.”

“We ain't taking nothin' of yours,” said Wells sullenly, “and you got no call to come stompin' out here like the bull of the woods. By God, there's three of us.”

“I can count,” Nathan said coldly, “and I've been to skunk shoots before. Mount up and ride out, and if I find cause to come after you, I'll kill the three of you.”

Without a word they mounted and rode south, none of them looking back. Nathan waited until he was sure they were gone and then carefully examined his saddlebags and pack. There was a slight sound behind him and Nathan whirled, a Colt in his hand.

“Sorry, Cotton Blossom,” said Nathan.

He didn't doubt they had been through his saddlebags and pack, for nothing had been repacked as neatly as he had left it, but nothing was missing. They had to have found the bags of double eagles, and that puzzled him.

“I believe they thought you were a lawman,” Myra said.

She stood in the door of the tack room where his saddle, saddlebags, and the loaded packsaddle had been stored. He got up off his knees, groaning. The pain in his thigh was throbbing like the beating of a drum.

“They seemed mighty anxious to get away from here,” said Nathan, “but you could be right. Maybe I was lookin' at the wrong reason.”

“Perhaps you were right and I was wrong,” Myra said, “and your confronting them led to a change in their plans. I don't know what you have that would have interested them. Jamie unsaddled your horses and stored all your goods in the tack room. None of us bothered anything, but I could never say the same for Jubal and his friends.”

“They had already gone through my packs before they came to the house for breakfast,” said Nathan. “I'm not a lawman, but I have worked with the law on occasion, and in my pack there are some newspaper accounts.”

“That's why they were in such a hurry to ride out,” Myra said. “After they went to the barn to unsaddle their horses, Jubal never mentioned you again. Always, following his trips to El Paso, he's questioned me, wanting to know if riders have been here. I believe he's ridden away for the last time.”

“Then you can't stay here,” said Nathan. “How many horses do you have?”

“There should be three in the barn. Jubal kept six. I believe three of them were left here for relays, in case Jubal, Ike, and Levi had to outride a posse.”

“I'll be riding on to El Paso,” Nathan said. “Why don't you plan on taking Jamie and Ellie and coming with me?”

“That would be the sensible thing to do. I'm ashamed of myself for having sunk this low for a roof over our heads and food. I was a fool to take Jubal Wells's name for myself and my children. My husband's name was James Haight, and I think Haight will be our name from now on.”

With Wells out of the picture, Nathan looked at Myra Haight. She had brown eyes and dark hair without a streak of gray. She couldn't have been a day over thirty, if that, and he found himself attracted to her. He had no idea what she thought of him, beyond the fact he had been hurt and had needed help. Reaching the house, she wasted no time telling Jamie and Ellie what she intended to do.

“I'm glad,” Ellie said, “but what will we do in El Paso?”

“I'll find a job,” said Jamie.

“You'll go back to school,” Myra said.

“Damn,” said Jamie.

“I hear El Paso's a right smart of a town,” Nathan said. “Why not just wait until you get there? I'll help you get settled.”

“Jiminy,” Jamie shouted, “are you goin' to live with us? After Ma sleepin' with old Jubal nigh three years, you'd be ...”

“Jamie,” Myra snapped, “go outside and stay there until I tell you to come in.”

Her face flamed red and she turned away from Nathan, while Ellie tried her best not to laugh. Jamie, who seemed honestly uncertain as to what he had done wrong, made his way to the door.

“I reckon I'd better take my weight off this leg,” said Nathan, “or it will never heal.”

“Yes,” said Myra, grateful for his having changed the subject. “Take a chair at the table and I'll make some coffee.”

The rest of the day dragged. Myra devoted her attention to Jamie and Ellie, lest they again say the wrong thing, while they kept their silence for the same reason. Nathan wasn't looking forward to the night because the cabin had only two rooms besides the kitchen. After supper, he had a suggestion.

“I think Cotton Blossom and me will sleep in the barn tonight. I'd not be surprised if Wells and his friends sneaked back and tried to take those other three horses.”

“Surely not,” said Myra. “It will be cold tonight and you're still not well. You have no business staying out there.”

“I have plenty of blankets,” Nathan said.

“Whatever you think is best,” Myra replied. Clearly, she wasn't in favor of it, but Jamie and Ellie looked as though they had suggestions for keeping Nathan in the house, and her agreeing with Nathan silenced them.

Nathan was slow in climbing the ladder to the hayloft, for his wound still pained him. Cotton Blossom settled down near the foot of the ladder. Nathan had slept so much during the past several nights, he now lay awake, thinking. What was he going to do with Myra, Jamie, and Ellie, once they reached El Paso? Tawdry as it seemed, he could see how a woman with two children might have cast her lot with Jubal Wells. Life on the frontier had to be hell on a woman, even with a man beside her. What must it be like when she was alone? When Cotton Blossom growled, Nathan sat up, a Colt cocked and ready.

“Identify yourself,” he said. “You're covered.”

“It's Myra,” she said softly. “Don't bite me, Cotton Blossom.”

Cotton Blossom was silent, having growled only to warn Nathan of her coming. She quietly climbed the ladder to the loft, catching her breath before she spoke.

“You didn't have to sleep in the barn. Jamie and Ellie already regard me as a fallen woman. As Jamie was about to point out, anything you could have done would have lifted me higher than I've been for the past three years.”

“The past three years are exactly what you called them,” said Nathan. “They're in the past. You should leave them there.”

“You're a strange man, Nathan Stone. You're a gentleman, and I'm not used to that.”

“That being the case,” said Nathan, “I should ask you to sit. There's a cold wind comin' in under the eaves.”

“I noticed,” she said. “I'm only wearing a nightdress. If I'd fumbled around in the dark, I'd have wakened Jamie and Ellie.”

“I'd bet my saddle they're awake right now,” he said, “and they will be until you're in your bed. Hadn't you better be going?”

“I'm not ready to go,” she said. “Besides, I doubt they could think any less of me than they do already. How is your wound?”

“Sore,” said Nathan, “and you leaning on it's not helping.”

“Sorry,” she said. “I'll move around to the other side. Will you share your blankets?”

“I reckon,” said Nathan, “if you don't value your reputation.”

It was near dawn before Myra slipped back to the house, leaving Nathan alone with his conflicting emotions. While she had asked nothing of him, he felt obligated, and to some degree, guilty. To his surprise, breakfast was a cheerful affair. If Jamie and Ellie were aware of Myra's absence during the night, they chose to ignore it.

“Another day,” said Nathan, “and I think we'd better be on our way to El Paso.”

He wasn't in the least surprised when Myra came to visit him in the hayloft a second time. Again he felt guilty, as though he were building an obligation he might regret. For a while there was no conversation between them, and he thought she had fallen asleep. When she finally spoke, it was with a question.

“Nathan, after all I ... I've done ... am I still worthy of a decent man?”

“Let's turn that around,” said Nathan. “I reckon you'll have to look long and hard to find a decent man worthy of you. Most men don't want a decent woman. That's why, in every town west of the Mississippi, the second building to go up is a whorehouse.”

“What's the first?”

“A saloon.”

“That's strange,” she said. “Why the saloon first?”

“So men can get drunk enough to go to the whorehouse,” he replied.

“Have you ... ever ... been there?”

“No,” he said. “I prey on decent women, usually after they've made up their minds I'm a gentleman.”

“You're making fun of me,” she accused.

“You've already learned more about me than any decent woman has any business knowing,” he said. “It's time you were getting back to the house.”

“When we get to El Paso, will you ... will we ... ?”

“I expect we will,” said Nathan. “Man's been taking forbidden fruit for two thousand years, and some woman keeps handin' it to him. We feed our weaknesses and ignore our strengths.”

There were no saddles for the three horses Jubal Wells had left behind, so Myra, Jamie, and Ellie had to ride bare-back, each carrying their belongings in a bundle.

“We'll take it slow,” Nathan said, “but there'll be some sore behinds by the time we reach El Paso. I have a tin of sulfur salve in my saddlebag.”

The first day, Nathan judged they traveled twenty-five miles. He called a halt while the sun was still an hour high, for they had reached a spring where there was good graze for the horses. That, and his three charges were so wrung-out they couldn't have ridden another mile. They all wore Levi's and flannel shirts, and they practically fell off their horses.

“After dark,” Nathan said, “all of you can strip and sit in the spring runoff.”

“I intend to do exactly that,” said Myra, “and I may not wait until dark.”

Granny Boudleaux's boardinghouse was different, to say the least. But so was Granny herself. The boardinghouse consisted of an old mission—long abandoned by the Spanish—that sprawled along the north bank of the Rio Grande, no more than a stone's throw from Ciudad Juarez. A Cajun, Granny Boudleaux defied description. She had black hair, piercing black eyes, stood several inches under five feet, and wouldn't have weighed more than ninety pounds soaking wet. She spoke English, Cajun, and Spanish, and on occasion, a mix of all three. It was to Granny Boudleaux's Hacienda Grande Nathan and his charges rode in search of rooms. Business had been poor and they were greeted by Granny herself.

“A room for each of us,” Nathan said. “You have a place we can stable our horses?”

“Of course not,” she snapped. “This look like a horse barn to you?”

“No,” said Nathan. “I've seen horse barns in better shape.”

For some reason that struck Granny as hilariously funny she slapped her thigh with her old black hat, like a cowboy.

“Four room,” she said, obviously in a better mood. “Dollar a day, five dollar a week, twenty dollar a month. Grub fifty cent a day.”

“Here's a hundred and forty dollars,” said Nathan. “That's a room for all of us for a month, including grub.”

“You stay long?” she asked hopefully, her eyes on the seven double eagles.

“That depends,” Nathan said, “on whether we can find a place for our horses close to here.”

“Jernigan's,” she said, pointing. “Two block west.”

Nathan unloaded his packsaddle and saddlebags, taking them into one of the rooms. Myra, Jamie, and Ellie had only their clothes, tied in bundles.