Dixie looked at him. The starlight lent a radiance to her features that heightened her femininity. “Why can’t I?”
“With respect, ma’am, your husband isn’t in the ground yet.”
“You think I’m being too forward? Would you like it better if I waited a month? Six months?”
“Folks might think it more fittin’,” Lin said.
“I don’t live my life by what others think.” Dixie paused. “How old would you say I am?”
Lin had no notion. Guessing the ages of women, he had discovered, was like trying to lasso the wind.
“All right. Don’t answer. I’m ten years younger than Chick, which makes me nine years older than you. That’s not much of a difference, and the women in my family preserve well.”
“Are you proposin’?” Lin came right out with it.
“No, that’s yours to do if and when you’re so inclined. I’m only asking you to consider it. You never would on your own. You’re too much the gentleman and you had too much respect for my husband.”
“This will take some sortin’ out,” Lin admitted.
“Not really. We’ll wait a year for propriety’s sake, then you can formally ask the question and we’ll be married with all the trimmings and spend the rest of our lives together, the Lord willing.”
“You have this all worked out.”
“Most of it. I’m still young enough to give you kids if you want them, if that’s a consideration.”
Lin said, “You make it sound like a business proposition.”
“Instead of a romance?” Dixie saw right through him. “It’s been my experience that when you put two people together, love will generally bloom. Especially if they want it to. You need to work out in your head whether you want it to.”
“This is all so sudden.”
“I’m sorry,” Dixie said.
Lin had one more question. “Why me?”
“Why not you?” Dixie rejoined. “You’re handsome. You’re bright. You’re as good as men get.”
“I’m flattered. I think.” Lin chuckled. “Ma’am, you take the whole cake.”
“I speak my mind. Always have. Always will. And from here on out, I would like for you to call me Dixie.”
“Some boots need to be worn a spell before they’re comfortable,” Lin commented.
“Granted,” Dixie said, and was quiet a bit. Then, “You’ve been our foreman for three years. I know you as well as I’ve ever known anyone, and you have many qualities I admire. Chick had a lot, too.”
“He was one of the nicest men I’ve ever met.”
“Too nice, and it got him killed. You’re a shade wiser. You would never talk yourself into an early grave like he did.”
“Mr. Storm was being considerate,” Lin said.
“There’s a fine line between consideration and weakness.” Dixie disputed him. “Chick was too willing to give others the benefit of the doubt. Me, I wait for them to prove they deserve it. Same as you, I suspect.”
Lin was uncomfortable speaking ill of his recently departed employer, and made a comment to that effect.
“My apologies. I should have taken your feelings into account. I’ll shut up now. All I ask is that you give my idea some thought and if it sits well with you, give me a sign to put my mind at ease.” Dixie whispered the next. “I want you to know, if not you, there won’t ever be anyone.”
“I’m not the only male in these parts,” Lin half joked.
Dixie’s eyes found his in the dark. “Males are plentiful. Men are rare. Men like you are rarer still.”
“I put on my britches a leg at a time like all the rest.”
“That I’d like to see one day.” Dixie smiled and took off her hat and lay on her side with her back to him. “Thank you for hearing me out.”
“My pleasure,” Lin said. For long minutes he sat staring at her, working it out in his head.
“You should try to get some sleep. Morning will come all too soon.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And Lin?”
“Yes?”
“Try not to get yourself killed tomorrow.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Billy Braden sat up with a start. For a few seconds he didn’t know where he was or how he got there. Then he felt the bed under him and saw his clothes strewn about and he groped for his Colt and found it under his pillow. The bedroom window was open. Rising, he padded over. The street was deserted except for the bodies and the debris. It would be dawn in an hour.
Billy quickly dressed. He was strapping on his gun belt when a tiny whimper issued from the throat of his bed partner. “So you’re awake,” he said.
Helen Palmer’s wrists were tied to the bedpost and she had a gag in her mouth. Dry tears streaked her cheeks and fresh ones were pooling in her eyes. She tried to say something but the words were muffled.
“You weren’t bad,” Billy said. “A lot more lively than your daughter.”
Helen strained against the ropes, her body bent like a bow.
Coming around the bed, Billy sat beside her. “Don’t pretend you didn’t like it. You wanted me from the start.”
Helen broke into racking sobs.
“Not again,” Billy sighed. Reaching across, he picked up his pillow. “All this blubberin’ is why I gagged you.”
Twisting away from him, Helen tugged and yanked and twisted her wrists back and forth.
“It won’t do you any good,” Billy said. “When I tie knots, they stay tied.” He held the pillow in both hands. “You know, it just hit me. You’ll make four. The daughter. The baby. The father. Now the mother.”
Tears poured from Helen’s bloodshot eyes.
“That’s right. It wasn’t suicide. I helped Sally along by squeezin’ the trigger. She wanted to but I don’t think she had the sand.” Billy positioned the pillow above Helen’s face. “Ever pull the tails off lizards? Or pluck the legs off bugs?” He lowered the pillow and pressed, grinning when she bucked so violently the bed shook. Bit by bit her resistance grew weaker until her legs were barely moving. Lifting the pillow, he let her breathe. “Not yet.”
Helen noisily sucked in breaths.
“Close, wasn’t it?” Billy said. “There’s a knack to knowin’ when to let up. One time in Indian Territory it took me six hours to kill a buck. I cut out his eyes and ripped out his tongue, and worse. He was a tough one.”
Helen was staring at the pillow.
“I’d like to see how long you can last,” Billy told her. “But the sun will be up soon and I have a lot of miles to put behind me.” He lowered the pillow again and this time he did not raise it until her body had been still a while.
Billy left by the back door and stuck to the rear of the buildings until he came to the stable. Slipping inside, he hurried to the stall his horse was in. He had hold of his saddle blanket and was turning when a shadow separated from the surrounding darkness.
“Going somewhere?”
“Black Jack!” Billy draped the blanket back over the side of the stall and stepped into the aisle. “You’re up early.”
“I haven’t been to bed.” Black Jack slowly advanced. “You’re up early yourself, kid.”
“I couldn’t sleep either.”
“You?” Black Jack smirked. “You could kill your own mother and not lose a wink of sleep.” He gazed out the open door. “How is Mrs. Palmer, by the way?”
“Fine, last I saw her.”
“Liar.” Black Jack halted. “You never answered my question. Where are you fixin’ to go?”
“My horse could use some exercise,” Billy said.
“Another lie,” Black Jack declared. “I doubt you’d know the truth if it jumped up and bit you on the ass.”
“I resent that.”
“Resent it all you want. So long as I don’t turn my back on you, you won’t do a damn thing about it.” Black Jack oozed confidence. “Doesn’t it make you wonder? Why I’ve kept you around, knowin’ you for what you are?”
> “I’m no worse than any of the others.” Billy wished the other man would let down his guard for just a second. That was all it would take.
“Three lies. You’re ten times worse. I never have to worry any of the others will put a slug between my shoulder blades.”
“The Twins are backshooters,” Billy noted. “And you can’t tell me Ben or Clell or Dingus haven’t shot anyone from ambush.”
“Bushwhackin’ is only common sense,” Black Jack said. “With you it’s different. You like it. You get the same pleasure from killin’ that you do from makin’ love.”
Billy had put up with enough. “What’s all this leadin’ up to?”
“Nothin’. Nothin’ at all. I just wanted you to know that you never pulled the wool over my eyes like you did over the Palmers’. Pity about that girl. From what I hear, until you came along she was as pure as snow.”
“Gettin’ sentimental, are you?”
Suddenly Black Jack was next to him, a brawny fist cocked. “Watch how you talk to me, pup. I would kill you where you stand for tryin’ to run out on us but we’ll need all the guns we have any minute now.”
“What are you talkin’ about?”
“Oh. That’s right. I never sent word to you, did I?” Black Jack chuckled. “The cowboys are here. Some north of town, some south. I imagine they’re waitin’ for first light.”
“We’re hemmed in?”
“Careful or you’ll wet yourself,” Black Jack advised. “Maddox and Tine are off keepin’ watch. They’ll let us know when the cowboys start in.”
Billy licked his lips. “How many are we up against?”
“Upwards of forty, I reckon.”
Billy glanced at his horse. “That’s twice as many as there are of us. I don’t like the odds.”
“Don’t worry. Half those cow nannies will be dead two minutes after they ride into town. The rest, well—” Black Jack shrugged. “We kill for a livin’ and they don’t, so we have the edge.”
“You hope,” Billy said.
“Better get to the general store. And remember, no one fires until we spring our surprise.” Black Jack walked toward the double doors.
Billy’s hand dropped to his Colt.
“Comin’, Ike?” Black Jack asked without looking back.
Ike Longley materialized out of empty air. He was staring at Billy’s right hand, his own hands on his Remingtons.
Uncurling his fingers, Billy grinned and held his arms out from his sides. “You must be part Comanche.”
“And you’re part yellow,” the fastest of them said.
Black Jack had stopped. “The only reason he didn’t gun you, kid, is because I asked him not to. I’m savin’ you for myself.”
“Why pick on me?” Billy wondered.
“I don’t like you.”
Longley backed out and the pair melted into the predawn grey.
Swearing, Billy strode to the horse stall. “I’ll show them. I’ll do what I damn well please.” But he didn’t pick up his saddle blanket. He didn’t even touch it. Swearing some more, he wheeled and stomped outside. Dark figures were darting from doorway to doorway, taking positions. He headed for the general store, his rage boundless. “After this is over I’ll see to him. Just wait!”
Out of spite Billy slammed the door with such force, the window cracked. As he passed the counter he swept everything on it to the floor. He upended a table, scattered the contents of a shelf. He was making so much noise, he didn’t hear the door open.
“What the hell has gotten into you, boy?” Dingus Mechum had a Henry rifle in one hand and a jug in the other. “You’re makin’ enough racket to raise the folks we killed.”
Billy grabbed a pile of neatly folded blankets and scattered them in all directions. “I ain’t in the mood.”
“Fine. Then I won’t warn you.” Dingus chugged from the jug and turned to go. “Here I thought we were friends.”
“Hold on,” Billy said. “Warn me about what?”
“Black Jack has spread word you’re on your own. If you get into trouble, none of us are to help or we answer to him.”
Billy thought his head would explode, he was so incensed.
“I told him that’s not right,” Dingus said. “That so long as you’re one of us, we should treat you the same as everyone else.”
“What did he say?”
“He took hold of my throat and said that if I didn’t do as he wants, I’ll be breathin’ dirt.” Dingus’s scrawny neck bobbed. “What did you do to get him so riled, anyhow? He has it in for you.”
Billy said, “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Watch yourself.” Dingus stepped out onto the boardwalk and looked up and down the street. “Clell thinks this will be like shootin’ fish in a barrel but cowboys don’t die easy.” He jogged north, leaving the door open.
Billy moved to close it just as a lithe form in a blue shawl entered. “Go away,” he said. “This is no place for you.”
Shasta Cunningham slid the shawl down around her slim shoulders. “I can be where I want, and I want to be with you.”
“Haven’t you heard? I’m not supposed to live out the day.” Billy slammed the door a second time.
“More reason for me to stay,” Shasta said. “Some one has to watch your back.” She brought a stool over and straddled it. “Is there anything you need? Anything at all? I’ll get it for you.”
“Quiet would be nice.”
Shasta indicated the saloon. “Belle and Susie are all set. They were giggling like little girls when I left and betting how many they would kill.”
“You’re better off with them.” Billy tried one more time.
“You’re the one I love,” Shasta said. “You’re the one I want to spend the rest of my days with. Not that you’ll have me.”
Billy studied her. “You puzzle me no end. I treat you like the whore you are. I tell you time and again you’re nothin’ special. Yet there you sit, professin’ your love.”
“Women are ruled by their hearts, not their heads. I can no more deny how I feel about you than I can stop breathing.”
“But I don’t love you,” Billy stressed.
“So?” Shasta brushed her bangs back. “It’s who we care for, not who cares for us. You should be grateful. I’m the one person in this whole world you can trust.”
Billy made a ppfffttt sound. “I don’t trust anyone. Ever. A person lives longer that way.”
“You’ll change,” Shasta predicted. “The day will come when you’ll want to settle down and a wife and a home will start to look good. I only pray I’m around when that happens.”
“Set your sights on someone else and you’ll be a heap sight happier,” Billy said. He saw the Twins jog past, trailed by Zech Frame and Jeff Dean. “There’s the one you want. He’d dig in roots wherever you say and wait on you hand and foot.”
“Jeff Dean is as dull as a stump,” Shasta said. “You’re the one who makes me smile. You’re the one I dream about at night, the one I think about when I’m with all those other men.”
“Stop,” Billy said.
“They don’t mean anything to me. Not a one. Most of the time, I don’t even look at their faces.”
“I said to stop.”
“Sorry.” Shasta slid off the stool and placed her hand on his arm. “You’re the one I love.” She brushed a hand across his cheek. “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. Then you’d know how I feel about you. You wouldn’t look at girls like Sally Palmer ever again.”
“Talk about something else.”
“You never loved her. You wanted her, is all. Just like you wanted that woman up to Wichita that time. And once you had her, you lost interest.”
“Go behind the counter and stay there. I don’t want you takin’ a stray.”
Shasta clasped her hands and cheerfully exclaimed, “Then you do care! I knew that deep down you did. I see it in your eyes sometimes when you’re too drunk to pretend you don’t.”
&
nbsp; “Women are the only critters in creation stupider than cows,” Billy remarked. “All you’ve ever been to me is an excuse to wear out a mattress. A man can take a poke without it being true love.”
“You’re just saying that because you don’t like to admit your true feelings. Men are like that.”
Billy moved to where he could see the entire length of the street. The eastern sky was rapidly brightening. Drawing his Colt, he verified cartridges were in all the chambers. Some men liked to keep the chamber under the hammer empty for safety’s sake, but not him. “Why aren’t you behind the counter yet?”
“I’m staying by your side,” Shasta said. “To cover your back, remember?”
“Do what you want. But I won’t watch yours. I look out for me and only me,” Billy let her know.
Suddenly Shasta pointed. “Look there! Over by the barbershop. Why is he doing that?”
Black Jack had stepped from between buildings and was waving his hat back and forth.
“It’s the signal,” Billy said.
The cowboys were coming.
Chapter Twenty-seven
“I’d rather you didn’t,” Lin Cooley said.
Dixie Storm dismissed his request with a wave of her hand. “It’s my husband who was sent into the next world. It was Circle C stock they rustled. So I’m going in with you, and that’s my final say. Savvy?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Lin reluctantly gave in. When she gigged her horse toward Nowhere, he was quick to catch up and stay next to her.
Slate grey clouds filled the sky. It would rain before the day was done but right now the wind was still and the clouds were motionless, as if the world were holding its breath waiting for something to happen.
Nowhere was cast in preternatural twilight, its buildings jutting skyward like so many squat tombstones. An ominous pall of impending violence hung over the land like a burial shroud.
Lin Cooley loosened his Colt in its holster. His was nickel-plated with pearl steer-head grips, and he’d had it engraved with a leaf scroll design by a master gunsmith in El Paso.
“I hope Mr. Elliot has started in,” Dixie commented. “We don’t want any of them getting away.”
“Joe is a good man,” Lin said.
Ralph Compton Nowhere, TX Page 20