"Rest senor. You can get back on the trail when you are better." The man said and Wesley fell asleep again.
Hours later the woman dressed his wound and gave him some supper and Wesley went back to sleep. He dreamed of trying to decide whether to try to take Susannah or Lorna. He never wanted to wake up from that dream.
The entire Mexican village came to see him, it seemed, he was a novelty to them, and every one of them brought food to him.
Then one young man came to sit with him a while. He wore the typical white muslin shirt and pants, a sombrero and Mexican shoes. However, he was young and he spoke English very well.
He was quite handsome and Wesley needed to talk to someone, he needed to get on his way. He was down right tired of all the women of the village waiting on him.
"They tell me you are anxious to get on the trail again? How come?" The young man asked.
"I'm after someone…" Wesley admitted, feeling very at home with these people.
"An outlaw?"
"A cold blooded killer," Wesley explained.
"Is there a difference?"
"In this case, yes…"
The young man frowned, reminding him of John T. when he didn't understand something.
"Are you a lawman?" the man asked.
"Nope, not no more…."
"But you were?"
"Once…"
The young man nodded. "Are you after vengeance?"
"Sort of. This man kills women."
The young man's eyes widened. "Women, but why?"
Wesley studied on the question. "Nobody really knows why, son. But it seems he thinks he's doin' the kid a favor."
The young man folded his arms across his chest and nodded. "That is sad. The man is sick then?"
"Yeah, I reckon he ain't right in the head."
The young man nodded again. "What is his name?"
"Victor Frank, ever heard of him?"
The man shook his head. "Not that I know of…what does he look like?"
"Well sir, he's about as butt ugly as a man can get. He's got scars all over the place, but mainly on his face. He's a big man, with a little voice…so I'm told."
The young man frowned. "What do you mean…a little voice?"
Wesley eyed the man. "He squeaks sort of when he talks."
The Mexican eyed him sharply now. Wesley stared back now.
"Do you know of this man?" Wesley asked, waiting for his reply.
The Mexican got up and paced about the room. His gaze flitted from Wesley to the floor several times. "A long time ago," he began and came towards him. "I was looking for my horse…an Indian chased me, and was about to kill me…a man came along…and saved me. He killed the Indian."
"Go on…what happened next?"
"Nothing much," the young man seemed to be remembering the incident. "I took him back to my mother's house. She fed him, he slept, and he left. I never saw him again."
Wesley eyed him keenly. "What made you remember him?"
"You said this man's voice squeaked, so did the man that saved me. Like nothing I've ever heard from a human. And his face…was so scarred. I'd never forget that…"
"That was him…" Wesley stood up, almost falling on the bed again.
"What has he done?" The young man reached to steady Wesley.
"He's killed a lot of women, that's what he's done…." Wesley moved restlessly now about the room.
The young man shook his head and stared at Wesley. "I am sorry for that. Truly, but he saved my life…I was but a child. I was indebted to him…"
After a moment of silence the young man looked up. "You said…women, more than one?"
"Yes, several, many…"
"Do you know why?"
"Only that he thinks he's saving the kid somehow…." Wesley answered. "Say…what's your name?"
"Antonio Del Lavaga Enrique's."
"Sounds like you met Victor Frank." Wesley nodded slowly. "If I find him, I'll tell him you said hello."
"I'm sorry…had I known, maybe I could have stopped him," Antonio said as he hung his head. "He was…well, very gentle towards me."
"Nope, I don't think you could have stopped him…but I'll stop him. I have to." Wesley said.
A week later, Wesley was gaining his strength back and making friends with the Mexican kids. He talked them into bringing his clothes and they helped him on with his gun.
It was time to leave.
He took out some money from his boot and gave it to the biggest boy. "For the senora and my thanks…"
The boys nodded.
Wesley knew from experience that catching Victor Frank was necessary. He might actually be the last outlaw he tracked. Frank had been free too long and his trail was still fresh when he'd killed a woman just north of Waco a couple or three weeks earlier, according to a bartender in the next town.
It had the same story, and Wesley was sick of hearing how Victor Frank was trying to protect the children. Didn't he know that children had to be disciplined by their parents or they turned into people with no responsibility, people like himself.
He took out a chew of tobacco and bit off a chunk, a little too hard and bit his tongue. He uttered a few unsavory words. He tried to wiggle his ankle, but the woman had wrapped it so tight he could barely move it. He rode on. He'd stayed at the Mexican village for nearly two weeks, so he was way behind with catching Victor Frank.
No use going over Victor Frank, best to find him and figure out a way to outsmart him. Still he wished John T. were with him now. Not that John T. could catch him any quicker but the ride wouldn't be so lonesome and it was always comforting to know someone watched your back. In the years they'd rode together he knew John T. would be there for him. It was comforting.
He had to be getting old to worry about his back so much.
Chapter Four
John T. checked his gun against his holster, made sure it was loaded as he rode into Waco slowly. A town like Waco invited vermin from every corner of the state. It was alive with saloons. John T. licked his lips; a cold beer might be just what he needed to get the dust out of his throat. As he hitched his horse to the railing he stretched himself and yawned. He'd been riding most of the day and was gosh-awful tired and parched.
He wouldn't tell it for nothing, but he missed Wesley more than he could say. It didn't seem right to be chasing outlaws without him. Heck it was intolerable just riding the range without him. The easy banter between them had become a ritual on a long ride like today. Today it had just been long and lonely.
That feeling of not belonging in any one place hit John T. as he glanced about the town. A couple of young girls crossed the street purposely in front of him, and he tipped his hat and smiled at them as they giggled and rushed away. He wouldn't mind having a girl, but drifting from one town to the next with the Rangers that wasn't about to happen. About the time it took to get acquainted he'd be called away.
He scratched his chin, wishing he'd shaved this morning and walked slowly toward the saloon. Before he entered he paused, getting a low down of who was in there and what he might expect, it was an old trick Wesley had taught him and he'd learned it well. Wesley always told him to check out a saloon before barreling into one. That had turned out to save his life twice now.
Nothing unusual here, he thought as he watched the scatterings of men along the bar, and a poker game going on in the corner. A few lined tables were full of men and colorful women decorated their sides. The piano player had a fiddler standing by him and they were whooping it up big time. The bartender was drying glasses, and stopped upon occasion to fill a few, then send them flying down the polished bar. The spittoons reeked and there were spots on the floor where someone had missed more than once.
A long picture of a woman with no clothes on lay above the bar for all to see and comment on, but it had been here the last time he was through, so it wasn't new.
That's when he noticed her. One lady in particular stood out from the rest as she was young and her light b
rown hair hung to her waist where it curled in little curls at the end. He stared at those curls as though he'd never seen such. She was a vision. Her smile was wide, her eyes the same, and she stood almost timidly to the side of the bar, as though she hoped no one noticed her. Perhaps it was her standing there, as though she wanted to shrink into the room unnoticed that made him notice her that much more. However, he knew he'd never seen a woman so beautiful in all his born days. Her breasts puckered against her dress, as though they wanted releasing, John T. felt himself grow warm. He wouldn't mind obliging.
His loins reacted to the high thrusting breast and tiny waist, and small but rounding hips. She was perfect. John T. struggled a moment to compose himself. He wasn't sure he could walk at this rate. Nevertheless, he had to try, because she was worth every minute he could spend with her and then some. Women very seldom caught his eye, especially in a place like this, but he just couldn't get over how out of place this little lady looked. Given the apprehension in her pale eyes, and the way she sort of shrank from the limelight.
He'd been assigned to find out about a group of cattle rustlers and this was as good a place as any to find some information. He'd snoop around a while.
Still, he was tired of this life already. He envied Wesley right now. He almost wished he were retired too.
Same old thing all the time, gunplay that usually got someone killed before sundown. He ambled toward the poker table and watched for a few minutes. The men were quiet; a tension growing as more money was laid out. Wasn't a talking game because the stakes were already higher than John T. could afford. This was serious gambling here. He wouldn't be getting information here.
He turned his chair back around and the little girl came his way like an arrow aimed at a target.
"Want a beer?" she smiled.
"That'd be right nice, thanks…" he winked.
He watched her walk off and tried his best to concentrate on what he came in for, but it was powerfully hard. Besides, from the looks of the crowd tonight, information wasn't going to be floating around.
Suddenly he stood up. He could find out what he needed to know later. This was a once in a lifetime thing. He had to talk to that little gal. So he followed her.
His eyes strayed to the girl at the bar and suddenly she looked at him. He'd never in his entire life had seen eyes so blue, blue like the sky against that hair and her lightly tanned skin, she was something to look at. In fact he couldn't take his eyes from her as she stared at him. He shook himself trying to get out from under the influence, but it just didn't work.
A slight smile played at her lips, and then she looked away. He wished she hadn't looked away, he really liked just standing there staring at her.
She served a couple of customers and came back toward him. She looked at him again; he winked and moved into the circle of her attention.
She moved slowly, deliberately swaying her hips and thrusting her small but perfect breast to his attention. Fire lit inside John T. like some inferno. He'd never had this kind of problem before. No woman had ever captured all his attention, but this one did.
"Buy me a beer and I'll join you?" she cooed softly for his ears only.
Her lips seemed to tremble as she spoke. He was mesmerized. He couldn't tell if she was as innocent as she looked or not. However, he aimed to find out.
"Sure… " He couldn't take his eyes off of her.
"Never seen you in here before," her voice was like a soft velvet scarf that wafted over him. He smelled the lilac water on her and closed his eyes. He thought of pretty flowers growing against the bright sunlight and smiled.
"You alright?" she asked.
"I'm fine… I've been through here a time or two. I never seen you either."
He nodded, motioned to the bartender and then he strode over to the bar to get the beers. When he came back she seemed to study him.
"You look tired cowboy, been in the saddle too long?" she said breathlessly soft.
"That's for sure, but I'm not…too tired…" he whispered as he pulled her chair closer to his. "In fact, I feel a surge of energy coming on."
"Where ya from?" she asked sipping the beer lightly as though she really didn't like the taste of it.
"Everywhere," he smiled. "And you?"
"The same…" she almost laughed.
"What's a pretty girl like you doin' in a place like this?" he couldn't believe he was flirting with this girl so outrageously.
"Where should I be…?" her voice was so soft, so inviting, and her eyes went over him thoroughly now.
"You should be married and having kids…"
Her smile faded. "Marriage is for good girls…."
"And you're not good?" he smiled.
"Depends on who you ask…" she said flatly.
"I'm asking you…" he said, his smile fading now as he let go of his beer and put his hand over hers.
"Wanna find out how good I am…" she teased him with another smile.
"You don't waste much time getting to know a fella do ya…" he began to rub her hand.
"I'd rather spend my time making you smile, than sit here and waste it…" she cooed again.
"Wanna go upstairs?"
He glanced up at the top of the stairs, around the room, and then at her. Her breast were so flushed against her dress, they nearly spilled over and he knew he wanted to be there to catch them. Each breath she took made him nearly gasp at how easily they might do just that. His fingers itched to touch. John T. was only human.
His glance caught and held hers. Everyone else in the room disappeared as far as John T. was concerned. He stood up. "Yes ma'am, I sure do…"
She smiled shyly, took his hand, and led him slowly up the stairs. Her hand was moist and warm just the way he wanted her in his arms.
As they reached the doorway, he bent to kiss her but she pulled away and went into the room.
Surprised that the room was so inviting, John T. glanced around as he pushed his hat back on his head. Lace curtains and a beautiful handmade quilt lined the bed. The lilac water peppered the air.
"Wash up a little honey, you still got road dust on ya…" she smiled.
"I could stand a shave…"
"If you want, but I kinda like that rough scratch against me," she cooed again.
She talked big, but somehow John T. didn't believe everything she was saying. He wondered how many had scratched her with their beard.
The room didn't smell musty like most of the hotel rooms he'd occasioned. In the darkness she began to undress, but seeing the lamp next to the bed, he lit it and looked up at her as her dress fell to the floor in a soft cloud. There was very little beneath that dress, just a small corset that held those beautiful breasts up high and pantaloons that barely concealed her.
"I'm enjoying this, that's for sure, but if you want me to shave, you'll hold off from takin' any more off. I get sidetracked real easy like." John T. smiled.
"Isn't that what I'm supposed to do? Side track you?" She purred, raising her head and letting her tongue slide out and over her lips.
He watched her actions, and smiled.
"Well, maybe, but I want to be sure to enjoy every minute of it, and I don't want to miss any…."
She smiled bigger now and let down a few defenses.
He shaved slowly, almost erotically, as he moved the razor against his jaw. Wiping his leavings on the towel she provided. He felt the top of her breast as his arm brushed her.
He pulled in breath and finally turned all his attention on her. His eyes went over her slowly, from the bare feet up. Little feet, he noticed.
"You clean up real well…" she purred again.
She watched his eyes glitter as her fingers reached for the ribbon that would untie her corset. When she was sure she had all his attention, she pulled the string and instantly the corset flew to the floor.
Her high pouting breast puckered against the coolness from the open window. He watched in pure fascination, as her nipples became hard nubs. His loins
ached. He stood rock still even though everything in side him was on fire for her. He wouldn't rush this moment.
His mouth went dry when her pantaloons joined her unmentionables. Never had he seen a more perfect woman in his life. Her entire body was tan, unlike most women he knew, he wondered if she slept outside or something in the nude. The picture that conjured in his head had his pants bulging. She was tiny, and yet, fully developed. Even water in the middle of the desert, after days of none, never looked this good.
His loins tightened and the bulge of his pants made her smile. That was one thing he couldn't control, and she knew it.
She moved toward him, reaching she unbuckled his gun belt, the guns thudded loudly on the floor. Her hand slipped deliberately just a tad to brush against his hardness. He sighed and smiled.
Her mouth opened slightly, almost in invitation. He came closer, then without so much as a blink, he pulled her against him. Her flesh was soft and silky to the touch and she smelled of lilacs. He moaned raggedly when his lips finally met hers. Now he knew what a bear felt like when he'd found honey.
The kiss was soft, exploring and sweet, not aggressive and out of control like he'd been when he first spotted her. This was too good to rush.
He wanted to carry this memory of her forever.
She tasted sweet and her body molded against him like melted butter. She wasn't shy or bashful against him, and she knew how she affected him.
His hand reached up to stroke her hair, following it down to her backside, where he cupped her against him. Mating her hips with his, she took in breath as she realized how big and powerful he really was.
"Too many clothes," she whimpered.
"Your right about that, darlin'." He quipped and began to tug his shirt lose.
She didn't wait, she unsnapped his pants, and her hands wandered inside as though she were in a hurry. She needed no invitation as he rose up to greet her. But he pulled her hands away and shook his head. "No honey, let's don't rush this…okay?"
She pulled away quickly, eyeing him with renewed interest.
Better Off Without Her (Book One of the Western Serial Killer series) Page 6