He didn’t answer.
“Are you denying it?”
He stood up, standing so close, he could have touched her. He could feel the heat of her, see the swell of her breasts as he looked down. She was tall for a woman, but he was taller. He had an insane desire to grab her small waist in both hands and pull her to him in a torrid kiss. But he knew she would probably slap him. When he looked at that full, moist mouth, he thought it might be worth it.
“Have you nothing to say?”
“Lark, you just here to tease me some more, or to invite me to move back in?”
“Neither.”
“Then why don’t you get the hell out of here before I throw you across my desk, rip that pretty yellow dress down the front, and take you like I’m thinkin’ about right now?”
She took a step backward and gasped. “How dare you?”
“Oh, don’t give me that.” He turned away to keep from grabbing and kissing her. “I know who just left your shop.”
“He—he was there to buy Dixie a hat.”
“Is that right?” He turned and glared down at her. “Or pick out a sweet little something for himself?”
Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed. He thought she had never looked as beautiful as she did at that moment. “That’s not fair. I’d never cheat on you, which I suspect is more than I can say for you.”
He shook his head ruefully. “I hate to admit it, sweetie, but I just turned down the ripest, most skilled slut in the business. She wants me to run off with her, and she promised I’d never regret it.”
“And you turned her down?”
“Maybe. I said I’d think about it.”
Tears came to her eyes, and she blinked rapidly. “You’ve got the whole town laughing at me.”
“You’re the one who threw me out. I figure this marriage is over.”
She seemed to be biting her lip. “I—I think it never really had a chance. It’s probably not legal anyway.”
“I took your virginity, that makes it at least a common-law marriage in Texas.”
“Will you stop reminding me of that?” She almost screamed it at him. “The banker wants to run off with me. Maybe I ought to take him up on it. I’d be far away and safe, and I’d have lots of pretty things.”
“Lark,” he murmured, “the only place you’ll ever be safe is in my arms, and you know it!”
Her tears overflowed now and she looked up at him, eyes streaming. “I hate you! You brought me nothing but trouble! As soon as I can, I’m clearing out of here—and I hope to God I never see you again!” She turned and ran out the door, bumping into Paco, who was just entering.
Paco looked after her, turned, and looked at Larado.
“Don’t even ask,” Larado snapped.
“Sí, boss.” He leaned against the door jamb. “Two beautiful women. Most hombres would be pleased to have one.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Larado muttered, reaching for his Stetson. “The one I could have, I don’t want—and the one I want, I can’t have. It’s about as bad as Apache torture.”
Paco looked puzzled. “If you say so, boss.”
About that time, old Bill, the telegraph operator, came running, waving a paper and spitting through his gapped front teeth. “Hey, Sheriff!”
“What is it, Bill?” Larado was in a foul mood, not in a mood to visit with anyone.
“Just came in over the wire.” He waved the paper.
“What?”
“There’s been a big breakout over at Huntsville. The prison’s tryin’ to alert all the lawmen in Texas.”
“They wantin’ us to get up posses?”
The other man nodded. “Yep, they think the whole bunch is headed for either the Gulf or the border, but they’d like to intercept them afore they get too far.”
Larado paused. “I reckon I can deputize a bunch of men, but the Texas Rangers will probably get them quick.”
“You gotta feel sorry for the towns and ranches between Huntsville and the Gulf,” Paco said. “The convicts will try to make it down to Galveston and board tramp steamers.”
“Not all of them.” Bill shook his head. “They found prison clothes abandoned in the rail yard where some freights head west, and some lady near there reported clothes stolen off her clothesline.”
“Hmm,” Larado mused. “That means some of them may be tryin’ to head west and then south—get to Mexico.”
Bill hesitated. “Sheriff, I might as well tell you one of them missing jailbirds is Otto.”
Larado took a deep breath. “He wouldn’t be loco enough to come back to Rusty Spur.”
“Maybe not, but there’s worse killers in that bunch.”
“Oh?” Paco asked.
“Yep. Matter of fact, one was due to hang next week, and now he’s loose,” Bill said and spat through the gap in his teeth.
Larado began to get a funny feeling deep in his gut. “Who’s the condemned man?”
“A rough galoot who killed a lawman a couple of months ago. An hombre named Snake Hudson.”
Chapter Seventeen
Somewhere in southwest Texas…
Snake Hudson took a deep breath and paused, looking around at the rugged landscape of prickly pear and sagebrush. “Damn, these clothes I stole off that line is too tight.”
Otto snorted. “At least you got men’s clothes. How come I got stuck with the dress?”
“’Cause I’m meaner than you are.” Snake grinned, surveying the other man in the pink flowered dress and bonnet. “You look right purty, except you need a shave, lady.”
Otto scowled. “That ain’t funny. Wonder how far the law is behind us?”
Snake sat down on a rock and examined the soles of his worn-out prison shoes. “They don’t know we caught that freight and headed west. Anyhow, what the hell difference does it make?”
“You’ll know if them Texas Rangers get us. We should have made a beeline for the Gulf like the others did, caught a tramp steamer out.”
Snake rubbed the red scar on his forehead. “Listen, you yellow railroad bum, we got a better chance losin’ ourselves in west Texas, and then headin’ for the Mexican border.”
The big, dirty Otto took off his bonnet and rubbed his ragged beard. “We ain’t but about fifty miles from it, if we turn south now.”
“Good.” Snake grinned with satisfaction, thinking. “We’ll steal some more clothes and horses, maybe some guns. I was hopin’ to kill a few lawmen before we cross into Mexico.”
Otto frowned and scratched himself. “I know one lawman I’d like to kill, but I don’t reckon I’ll get the chance. He’s the one who put me in Huntsville.”
Snake shrugged and rolled a cigarette. “I killed me a lawman. That’s why I was due to hang next week. I never asked you what you did.”
“Gimme a smoke,” Otto demanded, and Snake shared his cigarette. “I was drunk and stabbed an hombre with a railroad spike, then tried to top a pretty black-haired girl. Tall, she was, with a face like Lillian Russell—plumb beautiful. The sheriff ’bout beat me to a pulp. Left-handed gun, he was. Reckon he would have killed me if she hadn’t stopped him.”
“Don’t find many left-handed guns,” Snake grunted and took the cigarette back. Otto resisted, but Snake cuffed him and reclaimed his smoke. “Wonder if I ever ran across him?”
“Donno. I was buildin’ the railroad there in Rusty Spur and got a little drunk. I heard her call him Lawrence or something like that.”
Instantly Snake perked up. “A left-handed gun? Are you sure about that name? Maybe it could have been Larado?”
“I—I’m not sure. I was drunk as a boiled owl.”
Snake mused a moment and shook his head. “Naw, it couldn’t be the same one. The one I knew was just a dumb saddle tramp. The gal worth it?”
Otto shook his shaggy head. “Donno that either. He came after me like she belonged to him. I think I heard him call her name, maybe it started with an L.”
“Hmm.” Snake thought a l
ong moment, remembering how he’d been duped and double-crossed by Larado. He recalled the tall, pretty brunette who worked at the Last Chance. What was the possibility it was the same pair? Still…maybe Larado and the pretty Lark were enjoying the bank funds Snake had counted on. “Reckon they laughed about what a sucker I was,” he grumbled. The more he thought about it, the madder he got.
“We’d better get a move on,” Otto said. “I don’t want to run across a posse. Rangers might have bloodhounds out.”
“Maybe.” Snake stood up too, tossing away his smoke. He was getting madder by the minute, thinking of Larado laughing at him while he spent that bank gold. “Where’d you say you saw that galoot?”
Otto scratched his beard. “You mean the lawman? Rusty Spur. Listen, Snake, I got a bigger beef with him than you do—but he’s supposed to be a fast gun and he’s tough as a longhorn steak. Revenge would cost too much.”
“Speak for yourself, you yellow-bellied coward. You think I’d enjoy starvin’ in Mexico, knowin’ that double-crosser might be in Rusty Spur, enjoyin’ that money I stole and laughin’ at me?” Snake scowled and ground his teeth.
“It ain’t worth it, Snake,” Otto argued. “You might get killed.”
“It’d be worth it to me to risk gettin’ killed.”
“Let’s just head for the border like we planned.”
“Shut your damn face afore I shut it for you. I reckon he’s got all that bank money hid, waitin’ for things to cool off so’s he can spend it.”
“What money?”
“None of your damned business. You can go on to Mexico, but I’m goin’ to Rusty Spur. It’s near Abilene, ain’t it?”
Otto nodded. “You’re loco. You’ll run right into a posse, and they’ll string you up pronto.”
Snake grinned. “I know this country, reckon I can avoid them. See you in Mexico, maybe. I got to see a man about a bank job.”
“He’ll kill you,” Otto cautioned, hiking up his dress and scratching his rump.
“Maybe not.” Snake ground his teeth with rage. “I survived tanglin’ with an hombre with a bull whip; I reckon I can deal with a lawman. I’m a pretty damned good shot.”
Otto shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I owe him,” Snake snarled. “And besides, it might be interestin’ to see who’s the fastest gun. Now tell me how I get to this hick town.”
Otto squatted, picked up a stick, and drew in the dirt. “If you can get to this point here, you could catch the new train into town. It arrives at high noon on Saturdays.”
Snake grinned. “Sounds good. Adios, Otto, drink a few bottles of tequila for me when you get to Mexico.”
“If I get to Mexico,” Otto said. He started walking south through the brush and prickly pear.
Snake watched him go, a ridiculous figure in a pink flowered dress and bonnet. Otto would draw too much attention if he got near any ranch and get shot. Snake didn’t want to be anywhere near that moving target. Somewhere up ahead, there was bound to be a ranch where Snake could steal fresh supplies. He started walking through the brush.
Sure enough, only a couple of miles north, Snake found a ranch with nobody home. He got food, good clothes, new boots, a couple of guns, and a really good horse from the barn. If anyone tried to stop him along the trail, he’d pass himself off as a local rancher. And if they got too suspicious, he’d kill them. He didn’t intend to be stopped ’til he’d gotten his revenge on that double-crossing Larado.
Meanwhile, back in the Rusty Spur sheriff’s office, Larado paused, squinting at the new wire the telegraph operator had just run inside to hand him. “Bill, I—I got dust in my eyes,” he lied, blinking. “Read it to me.”
“My hands shake so bad, it’ll be a problem—but I’ll try,” the old man said. “‘Texas Rangers have caught most of the breakout gang near Galvestion. Stop. Condemned killer Snake Hudson and another man, Otto Swartz, thought to be headed west or south to Mexico. Stop. Texas Rangers requesting every able-bodied man to join a posse. Stop. Must catch them before they make the border. Stop.’”
Larado took a deep breath. Snake Hudson and Otto. Otto didn’t worry him. He reckoned the cowardly railroader would head straight for the border, but Snake was something else. Larado would never feel safe until the hombre was cold as a dead armadillo. Worse than that, Snake would be merciless to anyone who got in his way. No doubt there’d be some dead men along whatever path he took.
Paco walked up just then and shook his head. “You know this Snake Hudson?”
Larado nodded. “Yep, and he’s mean as a rattlesnake. See how many men you can round up for a posse. Tell them there’s probably a reward for most of them escaped convicts.”
“Sí, Boss. I’ll get my rifle and meet you back here.”
“About thirty minutes,” Larado called after him. “Tell them to bring blankets and grub. We’ll be out a long time.”
“I’ll get my horse.” Bill turned and limped away.
Larado watched the two go. Maybe he’d better tell Lark what was happening. He strode down to the millinery shop.
There were two ladies in the shop trying on hats.
“Mornin’ ladies.” He tipped his hat and waited patiently for them to finish and leave the shop.
Now Lark confronted him. “What are you doing here? I thought we had finished whatever business we had together.”
“We got a problem, Lark.” He was so serious, she paused and looked long at him.
“What is it?” She was suddenly afraid because he appeared so grim.
“Snake Hudson was on death row at Huntsville, but he and a bunch of others have escaped, including Otto.”
“Oh my.” She thought a minute, then shrugged. “They’ll head for Galveston or the Mexican border.” She began to rearrange a hat display.
“Maybe not.” Larado shook his head. “Although that would be the smart thing to do. Rangers have wired all the law enforcement to mount up posses and give them a hand.”
She took a deep breath. “You aren’t going? No better than you shoot?”
“I got to, Lark. What would people think if I don’t?”
“Land’s sake, someone’s got to protect the town.”
“From what? Magnolia? A couple of hound dogs and old Miss Wiggly?” He gestured and she turned to look out the window. Besides Magnolia chomping on the hotel flower box contents, the only visible living things were two brown dogs asleep in the middle of Main Street and the old lady mincing along the sidewalk on her weekly trip to the general store.
“Well, if it’s peaceful, you made it that way,” she said. “You and your legend of being an ex–Texas Ranger.”
“Yeah, and to keep that legend alive, I’ll have to go on this posse. Paco’s organizin’ the men now.”
She was afraid for him, but she didn’t dare admit it. “You think every man will go?”
“Most will because it’ll be fun to get away from their wives. They’ll camp out, tell tall tales, drink whiskey, and maybe never get within fifty miles of the escaped convicts.”
“Men!” she snorted in derision. “All right, go on. See if I care whether you get shot or not.”
He turned and looked at her. “Would you care?”
“Hell no, but Dixie might.”
“I thought you might give me a kiss for good luck.” He grinned at her.
“You know better than that.”
“Well, see you when I get back.”
“Maybe not. I might pack up and leave town.”
He paused in the doorway. “Sweetie, I’d hate that.” Before she could answer, he turned and went out, taking long strides down the wooden sidewalk. Even with his poor vision, he could see a big crowd of mounted men gathered in front of the sheriff’s office. Good, it looked like most every man in town was going.
“Come on!” Paco yelled. “I got your horse saddled.”
Larado nodded and quickened his step, watching the posse rather than the wooden sidewalk ahead. That�
��s when he made a misstep and hung his spur on a loose board. He tried to catch himself as he went down, but he was too late. He cried out at the sharp pain as he fell.
The wooden sidewalk came up to meet him, and he hit hard, knocking the breath from his lungs. He lay there a long moment, only aware of the pain ripping through his right leg. Paco dismounted and yelled for the doctor. Behind him, he heard Lark running out of her shop, asking what had happened. He closed his eyes and winced in pain, feeling a wet kiss across his face. “Lark?”
He opened his eyes to stare up into Magnolia’s big brown ones as her wet mouth nuzzled his face. “Damned donkey.”
Now there was a crowd of men gathering around.
Lark knelt beside him. “Are you hurt?”
Hurt? What a stupid question. Of course he was hurt. His right leg felt as if it were on fire. From somewhere, he heard the gruff voice of old Doc ordering, “Let me through, let me through, please.”
Larado tried to get to his feet and almost made it, but when he put pressure on that right leg, it folded under him. Paco and Doc caught him, lowering him to the sidewalk again.
“Damn it, I’ll be just fine,” he said. “Let me up.”
He looked up into Lark’s worried face. She took out a dainty hankie and wiped cold sweat from his face.
The elderly doctor was feeling his leg, pulling on it. “Does that hurt?”
“Ow! Damn it, yes, it hurts. Quit yankin’ on it. Put a bandage on it, and let’s get movin’.”
Doc shook his head. “Hate to tell you this, Sheriff, but you can’t sit a horse with that leg.”
“What? I’ve got to lead a posse.”
Doc chewed the end of his white mustache and shook his head. “Somebody else is gonna have to do that, Sheriff. Maybe you can stand if I can get a splint on it.”
“Naw.” Larado shook his head and tried to get to his feet again. “It ain’t bad, just put a bandage on it.”
“He’s a little stubborn,” Lark said to the doctor.
“A little?” Doc snorted. “Why, he’s worse than Magnolia here.”
The donkey promptly brayed at his insult, and the horses nickered and stamped nervously at the ungodly noise.
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