Chris looked around at all of them. “He deserved worse,” he said. “Any of you want to argue about it?”
They all backed away. “Nope,” one of them answered.
Callie was relieved to see Buck still watching all of them himself, ready with his six-gun. One by one the men walked away.
“I’ll get a couple of my men to bury him,” Buck told Chris.
Chris stared at the body a moment, then slowly replaced his six-gun. He looked at Buck. “Thanks,” he told him. “Fact is, if you could find somebody to get the body out of here and away from Callie’s sight, I’d appreciate it.”
Buck replaced his own gun and walked over to the dead man. He grasped his wrists and started dragging. “No problem,” he answered. He dragged the body off, and Callie withered against the side of the cabin, sliding down the wall till she sat, her shotgun lying across her lap. “Where in heck were you?” she asked.
“I was right around the corner. The man was at a table, playing cards with me. I noticed a strange look on his face when I asked about a man with a mole on his cheek. He finished his hand and got up and left.”
He sighed and turned away, rubbing his eyes.
“I wanted to see what you could get out of him without me around,” he continued after a moment. “I didn’t expect him to attack you like that.” He faced her again, and Callie couldn’t quite discern just what she saw in his eyes, a mixture of weariness, terrible rage, and sorrow. “You all right?”
She leaned her head back against the wall. “I’m okay. What about you?”
He shrugged, looking down at his bloody shirt. “I’m not exactly the one who suffered anything physically.”
Callie looked him over, suddenly seeing him differently. Surely this ex-teacher was once someone who would never think of doing to any man what he’d done to her attacker. She never expected to see that kind of rage, and she knew it had to come from somewhere deep inside. “I didn’t mean physically,” she told him. “It bothers you, doesn’t it, doing something like that to a man? Even though you know he did something terrible himself?”
He put his hands on his hips, now looking angry again. “You hired me to find these men and bring them in for hanging or kill them, didn’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Does what I did bother you? He helped rape and kill your mother.”
She looked at her lap. “I don’t know what to think or what to feel.”
“You want to quit?”
Callie looked over at the spilled coffee. “Quit asking me that. We’ve got a lead on at least one of them now. We have to keep going.” She looked back at him. “If finding them and getting them arrested, or even if we have to kill them, if that means they can’t do to somebody else what they did to my mother, then it’s worth it. We can’t quit yet.”
He nodded. “Just making sure.” He looked around. “I think everybody here has a good idea how they’ll pay if they give you trouble, so it’s probably safe for me to leave for a while.”
“Leave?”
“I need to be alone.”
It does bother you, she thought. “Sure. I’ll clean up around here. Aren’t you hungry?”
He smiled almost sadly. “No, ma’am, I am not hungry—not now.” He walked over and picked up his bedroll and his own rifle. “I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll tell Buck to sleep somewhere close enough that if you holler, he can come running.” He started to walk away, then stopped. “By the way,” he added, “what I did wasn’t just to get information or just because of what he did to your mother.”
He walked off then, and Callie sat there thinking about his remark. If it wasn’t just for those reasons, that left only one other. “Lordy,” she said softly. “Was he that angry just because that man tried to hurt me?” Why had he bothered to tell her that?
Chapter Twenty
Callie wondered when Chris was going to talk again…or eat again. He’d come back early in the morning, drank one cup of coffee, and then announced they would leave as soon as possible. She had time for little more than a trip to the privy behind the cabin, and that was not a pleasant experience, considering mostly men had used it.
The ride down from Hole-in-the-Wall had been as precarious as going up, except that they did not have to worry about all the extra horses this time. Now it was just the two of them. Buck and his gang intended to stay several days at the top and rest up, giving the horses a needed rest also.
Callie figured the main reason Chris was quiet on the way down was that he was concentrating on maneuvering the horses down the dangerous trail; but when they reached flatter country and headed south, he still didn’t speak.
Was he brooding over what he’d done to the nameless man he’d killed; or was he brooding over telling her the other reason he’d killed him…namely, because the man had attacked her. That was as much as saying he cared. Maybe now he regretted telling her that fact. Maybe he was embarrassed.
Lord knows you can fit what I know about men in the head of a pin, she thought. She’d lived in near seclusion on the family ranch all her life, had never dated other than a few dances with a couple of young men from town at church picnics and such. Since her father died, there had not been any of that. Ranching and farming simply took too much work.
She took a deep breath then and trotted Betsy up beside Chris, keeping her gaze on the land ahead as she spoke. “You going to talk to me sometime today?”
He remained silent as he finished rolling and lighting a cigarette. He took a long drag on it, then let out the smoke in a long sigh. “What do you want to talk about?”
Callie shrugged. “I don’t know. Anything would be better than you in one of your moods.”
He left the cigarette between his lips. “One of my moods?”
“Yeah. All silent and mad, or whatever you’re feeling. Makes me feel lonesome, like I’m out here all by myself.”
Another moment of silence lapsed before he spoke again. “You’re never by yourself as long as you’re with me. Remember that. You thought you were alone yesterday when that man came to talk to you, but you weren’t. I was close by.” He took another long drag on the cigarette. “I’ll always be close by.”
Callie thought about the statement, which was spoken as though he meant it in a personal way, not just as business. What was it about the man that continued to make her feel more like a woman and strangely moved? “Well…thank you. It’s just that the man told me you were inside, drinking up a storm. I still don’t know you good enough to know if that was true or not. You don’t have a drinking problem, do you? I mean, I’ve seen drunk men, and it’s not a pretty sight.”
He took the cigarette from his mouth. “I drink the same as any man, but I’m not a drunk. I can handle my liquor, and I don’t drink often. I’ve never drank so much that I couldn’t handle myself, as you saw yesterday.”
Callie still could hardly believe how ruthless he’d been. “Yes, sir, I sure did.” Betsy whinnied and nodded her head as though agreeing, and they both laughed. That seemed to break Chris Mercy’s belligerent mood.
“By the way,” Chris added. “You don’t know me well enough, not good enough.”
“What?”
“You describe verbs, like ‘know,’ with what’s called adverbs. ‘Good’ is an adjective, used to describe an object—like a peach tastes good, or a person is good. But when you describe a verb, you use an adverb. ‘Well’ is an adverb. So, you don’t know me well enough, not good enough.”
“Lordy, I could never remember all of that. What’s the difference, as long as a person understands what you’re trying to say?”
Chris smiled. “I guess it doesn’t really matter unless you’re around a bunch of high-nosed scholarly types.”
Callie smiled. “Have you ever been around those types?”
His smile faded a little. “Sure. I was even married to one.”
Good Lord, he actually mentioned his wife! What was it like being married to Christian Mercy? She imag
ined he was quite the gentleman then, probably didn’t even know how to use a gun. She decided to carefully avoid pressing for more information about the woman, so she resisted the temptation to ask him to tell her more. “You must have been rich back there in Illinois.”
He shrugged. “By some standards. Not filthy rich. My folks had money, owned their own business in Chicago. That’s how I was able to get a college education. When my folks drowned in a trip overseas, my brother and I inherited everything.”
“I’m right sorry about your folks.”
“Thank you. They were good people.”
They rode on silently for a short way before Callie spoke up again. “So, you have a brother?”
“A couple of years older. He still lives in Chicago—has a wife and kids.”
The knowledge made him somehow more human. “Well, since you have money and the education to make a lot more, why do you bother with a dangerous job like hunting down murderers for money?” She immediately regretted the question, felt him tense up.
“You’re starting to ask too many questions again.”
“Yes, sir, I know. I’m sorry. I have to ask one more thing though.”
He sighed, smashing out the cigarette against the black mark on his saddle. “I’ll risk it.”
“Do you think we can make Ben Bailey’s place by tomorrow?”
Chris laughed again. “I was expecting something a lot nosier.”
Callie smiled. “I know. I just figured it was time to change the subject before you decided to get mad and stop talking to me again.”
He finally looked her way, and she met his gaze, glad to see the anger finally gone from his blue eyes.
“I can’t really say how soon. Buck said he knew of the place, and said it was three to four days’ ride from Hole-in-the-Wall. We’ll aim for the fourth day. We have to be careful not to wear these horses out.”
Callie nodded. “What will you do to Jim Fallon if we find him there?”
His smile faded. “I have no idea. Depends on how things go. I didn’t exactly plan on doing what I did yesterday. It just kind of happened. When I get that angry, I hardly know what I’m doing.”
Callie frowned. “Oh? I sure hope you don’t get that mad at me.”
He looked at her again with a wry grin. “Then quit asking so many questions.”
“Yes, sir.”
They rode on silently for a little longer.
“You must know I’d never hurt a woman,” he told her then.
She nodded. “I know.”
“What happened yesterday…I never had a temper till the last four years. Not that bad anyway. Sometimes things just happen that send a man over the edge. It’s the same as with you. You probably never dreamed a couple of years ago that you’d be out wanting someone’s blood like this.”
“No, sir, I sure didn’t.”
“When are you going to start calling me Chris instead of sir or Mr. Mercy?”
“I don’t know. I suppose the time will come when it feels right, but it still doesn’t.”
“Well, somewhere along the line I have found myself calling you Callie.”
“Whatever suits you. Doesn’t matter to me how you choose to address me.”
“What’s your real name anyway? Callie sounds like it’s short for something else.”
“California. Like I said, my pa was headed for California once. He’s the one who decided to name me that, said since they never made it there, he’d have a little bit of California with him always. Sounds kind of silly, I know, but Pa could actually be a little sentimental at times.” She frowned. “You don’t have a kid someplace, do you?”
Total silence. Callie cursed herself, realizing instantly that this was not just a pause in their conversation. She’d hit a very sore spot, and Christian Mercy was not going to say another word. He handed her the lead reins to the two pack mules, then dug his heels into Night Wind’s sides and charged off at a gallop.
“Lordy, I’m in trouble now,” Callie said to herself. Damn! Why didn’t she ever know when to stop talking and leave well enough alone? He’d finally changed to a good mood, and then she had to go and get all nosy again. On top of that, her question had gone unanswered, which meant he either had a child somewhere and for some reason had abandoned him or her, or that child was…dead…and it was too hard for him to talk about it. Maybe the child’s death, besides his wife’s, had something to do with why he rode as a bounty hunter now. Her curiosity was going to drive her crazy, that was sure.
He rode so far ahead, she could barely see him. All she could do was follow his trail dust for the next two hours, hoping there were no outlaws lurking behind the nearby boulders and craggy rock formations or inside the many cavelike holes she could see in the higher rock walls. Lord knew this country was a good place to hide from the law.
She just kept riding, reminding herself he’d promised he’d never be far away. Finally she spotted him, sitting under the shade of a massive pine tree while Night Wind grazed nearby. Chris sat with his head leaning back against the tree trunk, his hat pulled down over his eyes.
Callie rode closer, deciding she was not going to let him intimidate her. “Should I just keep going, or do I wait here till you’re ready to go on?” she asked. “We’ve got a good five or six hours of daylight yet.”
“We’ll ride,” he answered with a sigh.
Without looking at her, he rose and walked over to Night Wind. He removed his hat and poured some canteen water into it, then let Night Wind drink from it.
“We’ll have to take it pretty easy, but we can still get in more miles before nightfall without too much wear on the horses.”
Callie was tempted to make a remark to the effect that if he hadn’t ridden Night Wind so hard, they wouldn’t have to go quite so slowly now. She decided that would probably be the worst thing she could say, so she kept quiet. It sure was hard figuring the man’s moods. He let Night Wind drink, then mounted up and headed off at a slow walk.
“I apologize,” Callie told him.
“No need. As much as we’ll be together, it’s only natural to want to know each other better. There are probably things you should know about me, but I can’t tell you till I’m ready to tell you. Does that make sense?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Jesus, will you quit with the sir thing?”
“Yes, sir. I mean…all right.” Callie sighed with frustration. “It’s just that…I respect you, that’s all.”
“Well, it makes me feel like an old man.”
“That bothers you?”
“Of course it bothers me! Hell, I’m only thirty-two.” He let out a snicker. “Of course, I suppose to an eighteen-year-old that is old.”
Callie shrugged, surprised he was talking at all. “Not especially. It just seems older than it really is because you’re so educated.”
“Well, quit thinking about it, and quit talking about it.”
Callie felt her impatience rising. “I’ll quit talking about it when you quit reminding me all the time when I say something the wrong way.”
He said nothing for a moment, then actually smiled. “You’ve got me there.” He faced her and tipped his hat slightly.
Damn, you’re good-looking, she felt like saying.
“We aren’t in a classroom,” he went on, “and my job isn’t to correct your English. My job is to find the men who killed your mother, and I’ll by God do it.”
Callie smiled in return. “Thank you, Mr…I mean, Chris.”
He nodded. “You’re welcome, Callie.”
Callie breathed a sigh of relief. He was in a good mood again. Lordy, this was going to be a long, trying journey.
“By the way,” he added, “you handled that guy pretty well yesterday. I have a feeling that even if I hadn’t stepped in, he would have regretted trying to mess with you.”
“He sure would have. I was ready to butt his chin with my head and then ram my rifle barrel into his belly.”
He chuckled.
“There’s a better place to ram a man if you want to render him helpless for a minute or two. A good kick to the groin will usually do it.”
Callie felt her face turning red. “That so?”
“Works every time if you aim right and kick hard. While he’s down, you jam the end of his nose as hard as you can, break it, or ram it into his brain. Or you can always gouge out his eyes or ram a finger into the soft part of his throat. Any one of those things will buy you time to get the hell away. Or you can always just shoot him, whatever suits you.”
Callie shivered. “My gosh, I hope I don’t have to find out.”
“Just a piece of advice in case you find yourself in that situation again.”
“I thought you said you’d always be close by.”
“I will, but you never know when we might be up against more than one man. I can do only so much.”
Callie nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. And by the way, I could stand to…you know…stop somewhere for a minute. There’s a spot of shade up ahead and some rocks. The horses can all rest a little while I take care of something.”
Chris nodded, saying nothing more as they rode to the spot she’d pointed out. Callie dismounted, hurrying behind the rocks to drop her britches and urinate. Just as she started to rise, she heard it…right behind her…the awful hiss…the deadly rattle. She froze in place, but too late. In that one split second she felt the horrible pain of fangs sinking into her skin, just above her right hip.
Chapter Twenty-one
Chris never heard such a bloodcurdling scream in his life. He grabbed his rifle from its boot and ran toward where Callie had gone to take care of personals. Before he reached the rocks where she’d gone, Callie, still screaming at the top of her lungs, came running toward him, hanging on to her britches.
“I’ve been bit!” she screamed. “I’ve been bit! Oh, lordy, I’m gonna die!”
Chris ran past her, keeping his rifle in his left hand and pulling out his Colt revolver. Rounding the rocks, he saw the rattler, one of the biggest he’d ever seen, slithering down from a flat rock to the ground. He quickly aimed and fired, blowing apart its head, then ran back to a still-running Callie. He grabbed her from behind in one arm, and she continued to scream and started to kick him.
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