by Janet Leigh
Gertie quickly jumped up. “Me too!” she said, following me into the trees.
“Do you always go at the same time?” Brodie asked, raising his eyebrows.
“It’s a girl thing,” Gertie responded, and I pulled her into the bushes.
I walked around the trees and then backtracked by the stream. The only source of light was the full moon, and I was trying to be careful not to fall over the tree roots that occasionally clambered over the path. I wanted to see what Mr. Sexy was up to. The rumbling sound grew a little louder, so I headed in that direction. Gertie was swooshing close behind me.
“Can’t you keep that skirt quiet?” I asked.
“Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t get the cool leather pants with the rawhide ties and the sexy chemise,” she chided.
As we came to the top of a hill, I stopped. The rumbling noise was right in front of us. I crouched down behind a bush, pulling Gertie with me.
“Shit, that’s sleek,” Gertie whispered.
I followed her gaze. In the clearing was a shiny black Harley-Davidson motorcycle complete with a sidecar. It had chrome pipes and leather seats I could smell from where I was hidden. But the main focus of my vision was the beautiful woman getting off the bike. She was tall and had mile-long legs that would have really worked a great pair of stilettos. She was fully clad in black leather, including the cowboy hat that hung low over her face. She removed the hat and let her shiny black hair fall to her waist. The bodice she wore was tight and accentuated her already perfect cleavage.
Caiyan was standing next to her, offering his hand in assistance off the bike. My blood pressure rose a little. They moved away from the bike and farther away from us. They were having some kind of conversation, but I couldn’t hear over the noise from the exhaust pipes.
“Who is that?” Gertie asked. “Maybe it’s Jezebel.”
“Shhh,” I responded. I didn’t know who she was, but I knew exactly what she was…a transporter.
Caiyan said something, and then he smiled. My blood pressure went up a little higher. Calm down, I told myself. There is no use getting riled up. I don’t even like him, I lied to myself. She is probably a relative. Then she took her hand and laid it on his cheek, leaned over, and kissed him. It was definitely not a sisterly kiss. I heard Gertie gasp behind me.
“Do you mates always go around spying on people?” Brodie popped up behind us. Gertie and I both jumped.
“Don’t sneak up on us like that,” Gertie said with her hand over her chest. “You’ll give us a heart attack.”
“Sorry, what are we lookin’ at?” he asked, and then he peeked through the bushes. “Damn, hell must have frozen over.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, the last time Satan’s bitch saw Caiyan, she said she didn’t want to see him again until hell froze over, so go figure.”
“You know her?” I asked.
“Yep, ‘fraid so. She’s the Mafusos’ little tattletale, and if McGregor finds us here, we are in deep kangaroo shit.”
“You mean she’s an informant?” I asked.
Brodie nodded his head. “Good for us, not so good if she gets caught.”
I pondered the idea of her getting caught, then Brodie added, “I don’t know what Caiyan has between those legs, but the women sure seem to like it.”
That did it. My blood pressure began to rise, and I knew any minute steam would shoot out my ears, and I would whistle like a hot teakettle. My inner voice said, I told you so, and I took a few deep breaths to calm down.
The woman got back on the bike and then revved the engine, and she was gone. We turned around and ran back to the camp. At least, Gertie and I ran. Brodie just ambled along like everything was hunky-dory.
“Why did you come looking for us?” I asked Brodie, trying to catch my breath.
“You didn’t take any paper,” he said, holding up a roll of toilet paper.
Busted.
Then it hit me: I didn’t know anything about Caiyan. He could have been married to that woman for all I knew. Boy, did I feel stupid. I had read too many fairy tales to think he might want a happily ever after with me. This was a job to him, and I had just happened to be an added bonus the last time. I didn’t know where he lived or what he did for a living when he wasn’t chasing bad guys; I didn’t even know what kind of food he liked. I felt like I might have been having a panic attack. I tried to slow my breathing. Bending over, I dropped my head between my knees and took a few slow, deep breaths.
Chapter 10
Caiyan strolled back into camp. So much for the deep breathing—my blood pressure shot back up the minute I saw him. I tried to look away, but I still caught the questioning look in his eyes. Caiyan and Brodie went down to tend the horses, and I could see they were having another intense conversation that apparently didn’t include us. Gertie and I cleaned up the dishes by washing them in the stream. I wondered how we were going to find the so-called bad guys. I also wanted to try to get Brodie alone so I could get the scoop on Satan’s bitch.
“Tonight we need to go into town and get friendly with the locals,” Caiyan said to me as they returned from the horses.
“Good,” I said. I really could use something strong to drink. It didn’t take us long to polish off the bottle of wine Caiyan had in his backpack.
“Not you, mate,” Brodie replied. “We have to go scrounge up some coin.”
“Brodie and I need to get into a card game so we can win some money,” Caiyan said. “We also need more supplies.”
“What if you don’t win?” I asked.
“We always win,” Brodie said matter-of-factly.
“Do you know how to use this?” Caiyan asked Gertie as he pulled a gun from the holster on his belt. It looked like the kind they used in the movies when the actors played Russian roulette.
“Yep, sure thing,” Gertie said. I hoped she knew how to use it, because I knew guns the same way I knew how to ride a horse.
“My grandpappy showed me how to use a six-shooter when I was young. But the real training came when my number-two stepdad taught me how to use the semiautomatics. He was into stealing things, and you never know when the owner might want a return, so he taught all us kids how to shoot in case we needed to cover him while he made a getaway.”
The image of Gertie and her brothers covering her criminal stepdad while he ran for the getaway car was a little unsettling. Oh man, what have I gotten myself into?
All that self-righteous bullshit I’d conjured up earlier just left like the morning train. Maybe I didn’t want to fight the bad guys. Maybe I wanted to go home and put on my comfy pj’s.
“Earth to Jen,” said Gertie, waving a hand in front of my face.
“Sorry,” I said. “I don’t want to be left out here in BFE while y’all go into town and have fun.”
“We are in Beefy?” asked Brodie. “I thought this was Texas.”
“No, she said BFE, which is the acronym for Bum-Fuck Egypt,” Gertie answered.
Apparently this was not a common term in Australia, because it sent Brodie into a fit of laughter. “She’s a real beaut, Caiyan, and you’re giving her a piece. Mate, you’ve got your hands full with this one. Let’s go hit the piss.”
“Oh, that’s so disgusting,” I said, still upset about being left behind.
“It means ‘let’s get some ale’—you know, beer,” Caiyan said. “I need the two of you to stay here. Stay in the campsite and keep the fire going, but keep it low. If you hear anything, make sure you have the gun close. I am not expecting any trouble. I have not seen the Mafusos, and this is a very docile town. Mostly farmers and cattle ranchers. There should not be any trouble. We will only be gone a short time.”
Caiyan untied Dan from the tree, and Brodie attempted to mount Gypsy. He was almost ready to throw the other leg over when Gypsy did her little sidestep and bit Brodie from Australia right on the behind.
“Damn brumby bit me arse,” he hollered.
Gertie and
I couldn’t help but laugh. Caiyan just shook his head. Brodie finally got hold of Gypsy. Caiyan gave me a warning “stay put” glare, and both men rode off into the night.
I turned to look at Gertie. She was staring at the gun lying next to her on the bedroll.
“Do you really know how to use it?” I asked.
“Well,” she stammered, “I haven’t ever shot a real gun at anybody, but I did shoot a BB gun at my cousin once.”
“A BB gun!” I exclaimed. “What happened to the semiautomatics…the number-two stepdad?”
“I really do know how to hold one.” She picked up the gun and pointed it as if she were one of Charlie’s Angels.
Great, we are so dead. Maybe Caiyan was right and we would be just fine out here in nowheresville, but my sixth sense was telling me different. I am just going to lie down and go to sleep, then when I wake up, it will be morning and maybe Caiyan and Brodie will have caught the bad guy, and they will put him in my outhouse, and I can go home. Kudos for positive thinking. I suddenly felt a little safer.
“I’m going to sleep.”
“OK, me too,” Gertie replied. She stoked the fire so it would last for a while, and we slipped into our bedrolls.
“Do you think Caiyan is in love with Satan’s bitch?” I asked Gertie.
“Naw,” she said. “You should see the way he looks at you. Like he wants to do more but can’t seem to find his nerve.”
“I think he’s got plenty of nerve. What if she is the reason he can’t?”
“Well then, he will be the one missin’ out.” Gertie turned over and began to snore softly.
I would be the one missing out, I thought. Then the fresh air took over, and I fell asleep.
I was dreaming Mr. Sexy was nuzzling my neck. A little kiss on the back of the ear, another on the curve of my jaw, and—wait, he was licking my face. That wasn’t right. I opened my eyes and was staring face-to-face at beady black eyes surrounded by white-and-black fur. The animal was standing on my chest. At first I thought, What a cute cat, and then I suddenly remembered where I was sleeping. The fire had gone down, and I could see my cute cat well in the afterglow. I let out a blood-curdling scream, which made Gertie jump up, grab the gun, and start shooting in all directions. The skunk turned, stuck its butt in the air, and ran, promptly spraying everything in its path.
“It’s a skunk, it’s a skunk,” I yelled out, covering my head like that would protect me from the bullets. “Gertie, stop shooting!”
Gertie stopped and looked around. The animal was long gone, but we smelled like skunk spew.
“What’s that smell?” she asked.
“I imagine it’s that huge skunk you shot at, along with every tree and bush within a mile, not including me!”
“I hate skunks. The smell takes forever to go away.”
“You mean ‘forever’ like a couple of hours or forever like ever and ever?”
“When Mamma Bea’s poodle got sprayed, it took two weeks.”
My eyes started to tear up. “Two weeks?” I stomped around, flapping my arms in despair. “I have to go to work on Monday. I can’t work smelling like skunk.”
“Well, we could always get some tomato juice. It takes the smell out, a little.”
I was wondering when tomato juice was invented. I was pretty sure we were not going to walk into town for a glass of V8. “How far was the town?”
“A few miles, I think.” Just as we were contemplating the long walk, I heard a sound like a horse coming through the trees. Good, the boys are back, or so I thought. A big black horse came slowly down the path. The rider looked Mexican. He had a vest made of bullets that crossed in front of his shirt. He wore a big round hat and held a shotgun aimed at my chest.
“Hola, senoritas, what are you doing out here shooting a gun all by your lonesome?” he asked with a thick accent.
I looked for the gun. Gertie had thrown it down after the skunk sprayed. It lay out of reach next to her bedroll.
“We were, um, l-l-l-lost,” I stuttered. “We made camp until morning so we could find our way.” I looked at Gertie, then eyeballed the gun.
Gertie made a slow move toward the edge of her bedroll.
“Don’t even think about it, chiquita,” the man said. “I doubt you could hit me, but I am not going to let you try tonight.” He moved closer on his horse. I thought maybe a little friendly small talk might make him put down his gun.
“So, what brings you here to the, um, woods?” I asked.
Gertie rolled her eyes and whispered, “What are you trying to do, ask him out?”
I gave her a helpless shrug.
“I am on a mission for my people,” he replied.
I heard more hoofbeats in the distance, and I knew we were about to be rescued. My hopes were deflated as more Mexican men on horseback came into view.
One of the men came up beside the first, gun drawn, of course, and said something in Spanish. They had a short conversation, keeping their guns on us. The second man shook his head as if in disagreement and rode his horse over to me. He had on a vest of bullets that crossed in the front, like the first man, and a big sombrero. One of his eyes wandered off in a different direction, so I couldn’t tell if he was really looking at me.
“Ayayayay,” he said and held his nose, “mofeta.”
“Looks like the senoritas will be walking,” said the first man.
“I don’t think I can walk very far in these grandma shoes,” Gertie said.
He cocked his rifle. Gertie and I both moved closer to each other.
“Wow, he looks just like Pancho Villa,” Gertie said when she was near me.
“So you have heard of me?” the man said, sitting up straight on his mount.
Holy crap! Gertie and I looked at each other.
“Yes,” she said, “hasn’t everyone heard of the great revolutionary leader Pancho Villa?”
“Are you a friend of my cause?” he asked.
“My dad’s cousin Jorge was a Mexican. He said Texas should be given back to the Mexicans because they had it in the first place. I think they are already on the takeover because there are so many of them moving in.”
This caused the Pancho man to scratch his head, then he told the man on the horse next to him something in Spanish, and he rode over to me. He held his hand out and said, “Up!”
I shook my head back and forth. “No.”
The man cocked his gun. I understood, and so I climbed up behind him, hoping an escape route would present itself later.
“You will ride with Paco,” Mr. Villa explained. “I would not try to escape; Paco has not been with a woman in a very long time. Please do not give him a reason to end his abstinence.”
The hair on my arms stood at attention.
Another man got off his horse and picked up our gun. He gave it a look and said something in Spanish to the other men. Everyone laughed except Gertie and me. He put the gun in his pack and kicked dirt on our fire. He pointed at Gertie to get on the horse. Then he made a sour face and held his nose. More laughter. He and Gert mounted his horse and proceeded on down the path.
Villa led the way. My ride was second, followed by Gertie, and all the remaining bad guys followed after us. I had a feeling this was not part of Caiyan’s plan.
After what felt like an hour, but was really only about twenty minutes, my ass was getting numb. I started to wiggle a little to wake it up, and the guy in front of me said, “Si, senorita,” then made a sound like “mmm, good.” Oh, gross! Maybe some other time, buster. I sat very still for the rest of the trip.
The sun was illuminating the horizon, and I wondered if Caiyan and Brodie had discovered we were missing. My surroundings were coming to life as a small gray squirrel skirted in front of our path, barely missed the trotting hooves of my horse. The hills around us were beautiful colors of orange and green mixed in with large boulders that seemed to pop up from the ground.
We rode through a heavy patch of cypress trees and crossed a small brook.
The horses stopped for a drink, and we were allowed to get off and stretch our legs. Gertie had to pee, but unfortunately we’d left out toilet paper back at the camp. We asked Mr. Villa if he had any, but he laughed and said to use nature. Did poison ivy have three or four leaves? I knew I should have paid attention in Mrs. Dunham’s biology class, but Jake and I always sat at the back and wrote notes to each other. Damn. I missed Jake, even if he did do the nasty with a girl named Bambi.
Chapter 11
We proceeded with our ride, and a little while later we came upon a cattle ranch. We followed the barbed-wire fencing about two miles before we ever saw a sign of the house. There were two six-foot walls made from Oklahoma stone. The rising sun illuminated the different colors of the stone. A wide entrance with a curved iron sign above it and a big H centered in the middle rested between the two stone walls. A brown wooden box that read “Hawkins Ranch”—most likely a mailbox—sat to the left and closer to the road. Two neatly done flower beds bordered with the same stone had been planted in front of the walls. Various wildflowers just beginning to bloom filled the flower beds and offered a kind welcome to Hawkins Ranch. This looked like a friendly place. I prayed we were going in as friends and not to kill the owner and take his cattle.
On one of our short rest stops, Gertie had filled me in on the details of the history of Pancho Villa. He was a Mexican rebel who fought against the government using men, women, and children to man his army of pistoleros. And just to confuse the white people, they were also called Villistas. He was also a cattle rustler and was accused of various other crimes Gertie couldn’t recall. He was wanted by the United States for something she couldn’t remember, but she did know there was some famous general after him. The Mexican government was also after him, so he was indeed a wanted man.
Mr. Villa led his horse down a long dirt road that I guess I would call a driveway. Each side was flanked by huge oak trees, creating a nice shady lane. I noticed Mr. Villa went first. I thought the head honcho always stayed in the back so if his men were killed, he could make a getaway. Not Pancho Villa. He led the way every time. I guess you had to respect that much about him.