Blaze! Red Rock Rampage (Blaze! Western Series Book 15)

by Ben Boulden

  “That’s true. It’s my dirty that requires me to horse around,” Kate said, a twinkle lighting her brown eyes. “But just now I’m a little ripe from four days of hard trail.”

  “Never,” J.D. said, taking his wife's flat brimmed hat off her head and carefully setting it on a shelf, brim upwards, knowing if any damage came to it, even during a passionate moment, Kate would have his hide. He pulled her hard against him. Her tantalizingly full breasts pressed against his chest.

  “You’re ripe, all right,” J.D. said. “And ready for harvest.”

  Kate pushed him away. “Hold your horses, Mister Blaze.”

  “Not thinking of my horses.”

  Kate gave him a sideways glance. She removed her holster, Colt firmly in place, J.D. noticed, set it on a shelf, and in one magical motion released her golden hair from its ponytail to cascade across her elegant shoulders. Her shirt followed, and a sheet of folded paper floated to the floor.

  “How about the one from Flagstaff?” J.D. said, referring to a seemingly awkward but extremely rewarding sex position from Kate’s worn copy of the Kama Sutra.

  “You read my mind.” Kate pulled J.D. towards the bed at the back of the tiny room. The dark streaks of light filtering through the building’s roughly constructed walls illuminated the curve of her hips and the tips of her breasts. Then: “Not enough room to get fancy,” she said. “Better go straight this one time.”

  J.D. helped Kate finish disrobing, leaned her forward, the palms of her hands planted firmly against the back wall, and gently stroked her heart-shaped ass, his palms rough against its silky softness. He broke away, unbuckled his pants, and gently dipped himself into Kate’s well.

  Kate gasped, reached back with her left hand, wrapped it around his shaft and pulled it deeper inside. J.D. grunted, balls deep in Kate, pushing in and out, alternating the tempo and the angle of entry with each thrust. The frantic dance pulsed with electric intensity, until Kate and J.D. found simultaneous white hot release.

  Afterwards, Kate snuggled into his arms as they sprawled on the bed. J.D. noticed the sheet of paper lying at the center of the room on the floor.

  “That’s what the boy gave you?”

  “Mmmm-hmmm.”

  “Looked at it yet?”

  “No.”

  CHAPTER 9

  The desert’s heat faded to night. Their lovemaking and the fine feast given by Lugar Bonito’s few surviving residents were only pleasant memories as Kate dismounted her horse behind a tiny copse of greasewood. The night inky black, preceding the moon’s rise. A cold wind whistled across the canyon floor that caused Kate to shiver involuntarily with a chill. J.D. followed, dropped softly from the saddle. A few whispered words, reins on the ground, acted to effectively ground-tie their well-trained horses. J.D. and Kate listened to the night. The only sounds were the soughing of the wind and whispered noises of small nocturnal animals busily using the night as cover.

  J.D. turned to Kate. Without speaking, he pointed to a spiral rock formation shaded blacker than the night. The note the young boy passed to Kate identified the rocky spire as the meeting place, participants and agenda unknown. It was set for midnight, but J.D. and Kate, ever cautious, arrived thirty minutes early to scout the terrain for any likely places of ambush. They split up and walked the canyon walls, checked the alcoves in the rock face for signs of habitation, listened for sounds that didn’t belong in the desert night before coming back together at the top of a sheared boulder, one hundred yards east of the stone spire, where they awaited their host.

  Their wait lasted only minutes. The squeak of saddle leather, tentative scrape of shod hooves across hard soil, alerted J.D. and Kate of the new arrival. The rider, nearly invisible in the darkness, guided the horse across the face of the spiral rock, past J.D.’s and Kate’s hiding place, where the clatter of a rough dismount disturbed the night. The shape and swish of a skirt surprised J.D., but even more surprising was the sound of whispered voices—two whispered voices.

  “I’m scared, Mother.”

  “Hush, now!”

  J.D. and Kate waited in darkness, listened, watched for threats. The moon clawed itself above the eastern horizon, casting its cold glow across the alien landscape. The rock spiral’s shadow spread across the canyon floor. The two women nervously paced, whispered, becoming more nervous with each passing minute until J.D. finally broke the night’s pale silence, “Is this everyone?”

  “Or are we waiting on someone else?” Kate said.

  The women gasped. They looked along the canyon walls, willing their eyes to see the source of the disembodied voices, but there was nothing to see except the harsh reflection of the moon’s rising white light against the canyon’s dark shadows.

  “Show yourselves,” said the woman who had been called “mother”. She pulled the other woman closer, an arm around her shoulders. Then: “Please.”

  J.D. turned to Kate, who was hunched over her Winchester with its barrel aimed at the women. He touched her arm, drawing Kate’s attention. “Cover me,” he whispered.

  Kate remained silent, turned her attention back to her rifle and the women below.

  “I’m coming down!” J.D.’s voice echoed quietly across the night. The sound of his descent surprisingly loud; boot-leather scraping flat rock followed by a light slap when he jumped to the canyon floor. He walked the short distance to the women, his eyes searched the night for unseen threats, halted when he was ten feet away.

  “Mr. Blaze?” said the mother.

  “Yes.” J.D. was surprised that he recognized the woman. “You’re from the hotel.”

  The woman cleared her throat nervously. She removed her arm from around her daughter. “I’m sorry I had to turn you away, but—” She didn’t finish.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Sister Jensen. This is my daughter Elizabeth.”

  “Your name is ‘Sister’?” J.D. asked.

  “No sir.” Then: “But it’s what I’m used to.”

  J.D. studied the two women. Even in the moon’s surreal light he could tell they were mother and daughter. The daughter a newer, fresher, version of the mother. “What do you want?”

  Sister Jensen looked down at her feet. She rubbed the palms of her hands against the heavy material of her dress. “Help,” she said. “We need your help.”

  “With what?”

  “My daughter. Beth. She’s been promised to a man,” Sister Jensen said. “A much older man.” She reached for her daughter’s hand. “We need you to take her away from here. From Small Basin.”

  “I don’t understand,” J.D. said.

  “We know who you’re looking for,” said the daughter, Beth, her voice soft and appealing. “His name is Jed Skousen and—”

  “Hush now, Beth.” Then Sister Jensen said to J.D., “We’ll help you find Jed if you help Beth.”

  “But please, don’t hurt—”

  Sister Jensen interrupted her daughter again. “Quiet now, Beth.”

  J.D. shook his head. He looked back toward where he knew Kate sat with her rifle, but saw only rock and hard earth. He turned back to the women. “A big bill for something we can do ourselves.”

  “Please,” said Sister Jensen. “We’re desperate.”

  “Jehoram Delfonso!” Kate said. Her voice bounced across the canyon walls.

  J.D. flinched at the sound of his proper name. Kate was the only living person allowed to speak it and when she did, J.D. knew he was in deep trouble.

  “Stop speaking this instant!” Kate said. “I’m coming down.”

  Kate glared at J.D. as she walked past him towards the two women. Her hands motioned a “don’t say anything” gesture and her eyes took harsh notice of J.D. And J.D. knew better than to say a word. Instead he held back, feeling excluded as the women gathered in a small circle. He watched as they grasped hands and listened to their voices, muted, the occasional sob making him uncomfortable as he tried to keep himself distracted by searching for unwanted visitors.


  Kate extracted Sister and Beth Jensen’s story in only minutes; a feat that, if J.D. were to attempt it, which he wouldn’t, would take him weeks. And every single day of those weeks would be damn uncomfortable. So he stood aside, tried to listen without listening and watched the horizon. When Kate had heard the story and made her decision she approached J.D., a hint of disapproval in the way she stood.

  “Well?” J.D. said.

  “We’re going to help Beth leave Small Basin,” Kate said. “She has an aunt in California. We’ll take her to the stage in Washington City.”

  “What about our business?”

  Kate smiled at J.D., her high cheek bones smooth as silk in the glimmering moonlight, made J.D. feel nervous as a teenager.

  “We need to talk about that.”

  CHAPTER 10

  J.D. and Kate slept late the next morning. J.D. woke to the sound of children playing in the desolate streets of Lugar Bonito. The day’s heat already uncomfortable inside the small room at the back of the church. Kate curled against him, her blonde hair swirled silkily across his chest and upper arms. Her breathing was steady and light. The feel and smell and heat of her almost made J.D. forget about the problems they faced capturing the train bandit. Who they finally had a name for after the previous night’s clandestine meeting.

  Jed Skousen.

  The son of the local terrorizer of men, women, and children.

  Levi Skousen.

  A relationship J.D. was less than excited about since Levi Skousen seemingly controlled Small Basin and its surroundings with an iron fist. It would make Jed’s capture and their escape afterwards that much more difficult. There was nothing good about taking a young woman along either, in bonnet and dress no less, who had also been promised to Levi as a bride. But Kate had a plan and if J.D. wanted to keep Kate happy, and he did, he would have to go along, which meant not only bringing Jed to justice, but helping Beth, too.

  J.D.’s thoughts were interrupted by a young boy crashing through the door of the small room. A blast of sun blinded J.D. momentarily. The boy rattled a string of incomprehensible Spanish words, his hands pantomiming a language J.D. didn’t understand. Kate jerked quickly awake, pulled the trail blanket to her chin.

  “What?”

  J.D. maneuvered from the bed in one swift motion. He grabbed the Winchester from where it leaned against the wall, its muzzle looked at the floor. He recognized the boy from the previous evening’s feast, but the boy’s name eluded him; Raoul, Rimando—

  “What is it, Raphael?” Kate asked.

  Raphael’s nervous energy diminished slightly. He gulped breath into his lungs, exhaled sharply. “Men come from town.” His mouth opened and closed with no words. A look of confusion crossed his young face.

  “Go on, Raphy.” Kate stood, pulled her hair into a pony tail. The Colt rested close at hand, a warm smile touched her lips.

  Raphael took a deep drag of air, exhaled. “Adalina. Bad men from town take her with them.”

  “Where?” J.D. said.

  “Her house.”

  Kate, her flat-brimmed hat securely on her head, the Colt holstered at her waist, pulled the Winchester across her chest, said to J.D., “What are we waiting for?”

  J.D. grinned, stepped into his boots and without speaking led Kate and Raphael from the room. The sun was already a blister in the morning sky. In the distance a trail of dust rose from the canyon floor behind three riders, their horses at full gallop, covering significant ground with each step.

  Kate turned to Raphael without losing a step. “Get our horses, Raphy.”

  Raphael peeled away toward the small corral where the horses were pastured. He yelled tersely in Spanish at two loitering children. The response was immediate, but ineffectual, as they tried but failed to drag the heavy saddles from the top rail of the fence.

  J.D. made quick time to John Fernandez’s small worn house. The front door stood open on its leather hinges and two elderly women hunched over the prostrate bodies of Father Pacheco and John. Father Pacheco’s eyes fluttered open. He tried to sit up, but the old woman held him down, the palm of her hand flat against his chest. She spoke to the priest in low, soothing tones.

  John laid motionless, curled on his side. A deep gash across his brow pulsing blood, rhythmically, across his face. A steady drip formed at the bridge of his nose and fell to the dusty red earth, where it was ingested and absorbed before it could pool. The old woman tore a square of material from her dress, used it as a compress to stop the blood’s flow. Kate settled at the woman’s side and helped roll John onto his back.

  “What happened here?” J.D. said.

  The old woman kneeling over Father Pacheco looked at J.D. without speaking. Her eyes wet with fear. The priest took advantage of her momentary distraction and pushed himself up with his elbows.

  “Skousen’s men.” Pacheco’s face pale, his words shaky. “Romms, Smith, Rockwell.” Then, voice fading: “Adalina.”

  “Where are the horses!” J.D. shouted.

  Kate, on the ground beside John, his head on her lap, looked at J.D. He could see the rage in her eyes.

  “Goddamn it!” J.D. said. He scanned the horizon looking for the telltale pillar of dust marking the progress of the riders he and Kate saw as they exited the shack, but there was only open ground, canyon walls, blue sky. No men. No horses. Not even dust marking their trail.

  “We’ll find her, J.D.”

  J.D. turned back to Father Pacheco.

  “What happened?”

  Just then Raphael came running, dragging J.D.’s and Kate’s horses behind him by their halters.

  “I have them! I have them!”

  The horses were bareback. J.D. looked at Kate. A smile on his face a moment before he laughed.

  Raphael stopped short. His face showing uncertainty about J.D.’s reaction to his arrival.

  “Where are the saddles?” Kate said.

  The boy looked at the ground in front of his feet, twisted nervously and said, “I’m sorry, señora, but they were too heavy for me.”

  Despite the situation, Kate smiled at Raphael, said, “Raphael, you did great.”

  CHAPTER 11

  It took several precious minutes for J.D. and Kate to get the wounded men inside and comfortable in John’s house. There was a single low-ceilinged room. A small kitchen, a pine plank set across two stumps that created a work counter littered with utensils, pots and other cooking paraphernalia. A rough-hewn juniper dining table with three chairs, two straw beds, one against each wall at the back of the house. The only window was a small square above the kitchen bench next to the door. The house dark, air cooler inside than out. They settled Father Pacheco in Adalina’s tiny straw bed, carried John’s still unconscious body to his own.

  More time spent saddling the horses gave the kidnappers a head start across country they were familiar with and J.D. and Kate found stunningly foreign with its high red canyon walls and narrow, twisting valley floors. The trail was easy to follow since the riders were moving hard and fast. The shod hooves deeply scarred the hard ground, and with J.D. taking point, their horses made good time across the broken landscape. They both felt a certainty the riders were only minutes ahead. A certainty that ended as the trail disappeared across a broad flat shelf of sedimentary rock. J.D. dismounted and studied the surface for the telltale scrapings of iron on rock, but found only brief glimpses of the riders’ passage before the evidence disappeared in the sea of stone.

  “Damn,” J.D. said.

  Kate sat her horse, scanned the horizon for any sign of their prey. “They’re gone.”

  “Where do you think they’re heading?”

  “My guess, since the bastards work for Skousen,” Kate said. “They’ll take Adalina to his place.”

  J.D. heard the anger in Kate’s words. He nodded.

  “My thoughts, too.”

  J.D. and Kate were silent on the short ride back to Lugar Bonito, barely noticing the blistering sun as each studied their sit
uation. A kidnapped girl, an arranged marriage, a yet to be captured outlaw, and a son of a bitch holding the entire country hostage. The idea simmered in J.D.’s mind until he simply wanted to ride and hurt anyone who closed their eyes to, or openly allowed such a miserable reality to encroach on human life.

  Their silence ended when they walked through the door of John Fernandez’s home, its dim light welcoming in a cold but not unpleasant manner. Father Pacheco sat at the table, a cloth wrapped around his head as a bandage. The old woman still fussed around him.

  “You’re making me nervous,” Father Pacheco said. “Would you sit down, please, Maria?” He looked up expectantly at J.D. and Kate as each entered the house, but grimaced when he saw they were alone.

  “No Adalina?”

  J.D. shook his head.

  “We need to talk,” Kate said.

  “What would you like to know?”

  “Where would they take Adalina?”

  Father Pacheco sighed. He gently rubbed his head with the fingers of his right hand before looking out the small window at the front of the house. “Skousen’s place. He calls it a ranch, but it is more of a way station for stolen cattle and goods than anything. He keeps his wives there and that’s where Adalina will be.” He paused for a moment. “It will be hard to get Adalina back now. Maybe impossible.”

  J.D. said, “Where is it?”

  “Northwest,” Father Pacheco said. “Four miles, a little more.”

  “How do we get there?” Kate asked.

  Father Pacheco looked at Kate, one eye dull and unfocused from the hard knock administered by the kidnappers.

  “It is not so easy as to ride in and demand Adalina back,” the priest said. “Skousen is protected. He rarely leaves the ranch and the men in his employ enjoy inflicting pain and even killing. He will think of Adalina as his property and protect her from leaving. It will take a war to pry her loose from him.”

  “We’re ready for war,” J.D. said. “We’re here for Jed, but now we have this—”