Abruptly, he broke it off, drawing in his breath, trying to regain his self-control. His own choked groan had startled him...that this inexperienced girl could affect a man like him. But then he remembered when they’d first danced, how he’d stepped onto the dance floor with her, expecting he’d want to get the duty over with quickly, but instead found she was in tune with his every step, his every movement. So, too, were her kisses now.
Brown, wondering eyes stared up at him. Her arms had somehow found their way to circle his waist, while one of his was at her back, the other below her breast, straining to reach higher, to cup her...
"I think," she said, "I think we should try that one more time. I’m a slow learner."
"No, Gabe, that’s one thing you’re not." He stood up and walked back to his side of the campfire.
Chapter 11
Mornings are beautiful in the desert. The sky is clear and the day not yet hot. The rising sun casts pale shadows over the land and the mountains to reveal their crags and niches with stark clarity. When Gabe awoke, McLowry had already built a fire and made coffee. She watched him put flour into a tin bowl, add a cup of their precious water, and stir them together. How different this was from yesterday morning. She shuddered at the memory. Yesterday morning had been a nightmare. But then there was last night.
They ate breakfast quickly, self-consciously mumbling only a few words to each other, and soon were on their way once more.
They rode northeast in silence. Across the bleak, high desert, buzzards and snakes were their only companions. As they skirted the Dragoon Mountains and the Apache strongholds hidden there, they left the trail, knowing the Apaches would be watching it.
She discovered that McLowry knew the open desert well, knew how to read the few animal tracks in the bleak landscape that could lead a man to a watering hole. But still, the going was slow and treacherous. Sometimes, animal tracks led to dry holes. Other times, desert storms filled the holes with water but washed away the tracks so a man would find them only by chance.
McLowry liked to say the desert knew no bounds in its perversity, and Gabe came to understand the full meaning of those words.
As the sun set, they found a dry creek bed and followed it until they reached a deep spot that still held a couple inches of water from the last thunderstorm. "We’ll make camp here," McLowry said. "I expect you’re pretty hungry."
Faced with the thought of camping again with McLowry, food was the last thing on her mind. She changed the subject. "Do you know how much farther to Dry Springs?" she asked.
He got off his horse and began removing his packs and saddle. She did the same. "Look, Gabe," he said. "Tanner’s got to be long gone from Dry Springs. A man like him never stays put."
"We’ll find him," she said firmly. Without further comment she helped McLowry make camp and eat the pathetically skinny rabbit he had shot earlier.
After supper, she sat with a cup of hot coffee, her back to him, and stared out at the desert, her thoughts inward.
She felt his gaze on her a long while before she heard him stand and then rummage around in his saddlebags. She turned to see him pull out a deck of cards. "Do you know Black Jack?" he asked, holding up the deck.
She grinned. "I used to play with my brothers. I’m warning you, I’m good."
His eyebrows rose. "Really?" He spread out a blanket, sat on one end, and began shuffling the deck. "What would you like to wager on just how good you are?"
She walked to her saddlebag and pulled out a box of matches. "Ten matchsticks say I’ll beat the dealer." She sat on the blanket across from him.
"You’re on, lady."
They played cards deep into the night. Gabe wasn’t above palming an ace now and then, or rearranging the deck while he poured himself another cup of coffee. He caught her every time. In all, she was surprised at how many laughs they had shared as the game went on, even though his pile of matchsticks grew and she threatened to torch the whole lot of them.
Finally, it was time for them to get some sleep. "I guess we ought to turn in," McLowry said uneasily.
"I guess," she replied.
She got out her bedroll--they had been playing cards on McLowry’s--and she spread it near the campfire. Memories of the prior night were strong in Gabe’s mind.
McLowry adjusted his blanket far from hers. She guessed memories of last night were on his mind, too.
She lay down, as did he.
She waited, looking for a late-night cigarette. This night, he didn’t build one. She wondered if he was afraid it might lead to a repeat of last night’s lesson in kissing.
She curled on her side, looking at his dark shadow across the campfire. She had to admit that in the past she had often thought about kissing McLowry, and had wondered what it would be like. She used to think about him in those days when she was still in school and the boys seemed to do nothing but laugh at her or ignore her, and even later, when some of the local boys would come to call, and she would turn them away. The ones who called on her were usually the desperate boys, the ones no other girls paid attention to because they were awkward or had bad skin or feet that smelled even through their shoes. They came to see her, not because they cared about her, but because they wanted someone female to spend time with. She was their last chance, their last hope--the weird Devere girl who wore her hair short and ran around in men’s clothes and could ride and shoot better than most of the cowhands in Jackson City. She didn’t want boys like that. So instead, she had thought of McLowry--or, more accurately, her made up version of him. She had thought of being with him, even of kissing him.
Her imagination hadn’t come within a country mile of the real thing. She guessed that was what was meant by innocence.
o0o
Two days later Gabe saw a battered sign with the words "Dry Springs" so sun-bleached that they could barely be read.
A cluster of stark wooden buildings, gray with weathering, lined up to form the main street of town. No gingerbread moldings or false fronts decorated the plain structures. No signs of life existed in the town except for a couple of chickens and old, skinny dogs sleeping in the hot sun. The dogs didn’t even bark, just looked up and stared as if they had never seen anyone ride into town before.
The first place that looked inhabited was a saloon, and the next, several doors away, was a general store. Gabe had never seen so many boarded-up and falling-apart buildings in her life.
"What’s going on here, Jess?"
"This is what happens when the desert wins," he said without emotion.
She shuddered.
They reined in their horses at the livery. It was almost empty. "We’re thinking of staying a day or two," McLowry said to the stable owner. "Is there a rooming house in town?"
"Mrs. Huckleby takes in boarders since her boys grew up and went to California," the man replied, looking at the two of them strangely. "She ain’t had no business lately, and I guess she wouldn’t turn you away."
"I see. She’s a widow?"
"Naw. Her husband works at the mine. But that don’t bring in no money anymore."
Gabe’s interest flared. "What kind of mine?"
"Silver. Some of the prettiest ore you ever wanted to see came out of the Dry Springs mine."
At least that part of Clara’s story was true. "This hardly looks like a mining town," Gabe added.
The livery owner glanced at McLowry, and his brow furrowed. "Mine dried up. Most folks’ patience dried up right along with it. Few stubborn fools, though, like Huckleby and me stuck around. What can I say?"
McLowry asked for directions to Mrs. Huckleby’s place.
Outside the livery, Gabe looked up and down the quiet, lonely street. "I’m afraid you might have been right, Jess. This hardly looks like a place Tanner’s gang would hang out, mine or no mine. I wonder if it’s worth staying here at all?"
"What about sleeping in a warm, comfortable bed tonight?"
"I’ll have plenty of time for comfort after Tanner’s g
otten rid of. Let’s get some food, talk to a few people, and then we can decide, okay?"
He watched her scan the street again. She was coming to understand how to judge places pretty well.
As tired as she might be, he also saw how doggedly willing she was to keep right on going. She did it for family. The cause was a good one, and noble, but he knew from experience how bad such a cause could turn.
They walked down the street to the saloon. McLowry entered to ask if there was any place in town that they could get a meal; a moment later he stood at the swinging double doors and motioned to Gabe to join him.
She was hesitant about entering after her bad experience getting booted out of one in Tombstone, but she did. Inside, a dark wooden bar ran along one side of the room, and dark wood covered the walls. In the center of the room were tables and chairs, plus a dusty, ignored-looking piano in the corner. The idea struck her that all saloons were probably laid out pretty much the same. McLowry motioned for her to go to a table. The place was empty except for three men standing at the bar. They eyed Gabe as she walked in, studied McLowry, than quickly turned their attention back to their drinks.
Gabe and McLowry sat. In a moment the barkeep was at their side, offering them sausage, eggs, potatoes and gravy. They ordered the works, plus beer.
They ate in silence.
Finally, Gabe pushed aside her beer glass. "I don’t know about this town. I’m almost afraid to ask about Tanner after what happened with Blackie Lane, but at the same time, I don’t want to stay if there’s no reason."
"We can stay for a while without asking about him, and just listening."
"And in the meantime, Tanner might be getting even farther away from me."
McLowry took a long swallow of his beer, then leaned back. "You can’t have it both ways."
"I know," she said miserably.
He came forward. "Let’s think about this." He drew on the dusty tabletop as he spoke. "To the west are the Dragoon Mountains, and to the east are the Chiracahuas. Both ranges have bands of Apaches. It’s not likely Tanner would be hiding out in there any amount of time. We came from the south, and to the north there’s nothing but a couple of poor settlements all the way to Florence Junction. I say we stay here for a while and talk to folks, and find out as much as we can without asking them point blank."
Her gaze caught his as images came rushing at her of Jess at the Crystal Palace, of Clara, even of the shootout that she had missed but still could see clearly because it had been the talk of Tombstone for days and she had heard every single detail about it more than once. She frowned. "How? In poker games?" she asked bitterly.
"I doubt there’s enough money in this town to make a game interesting. They probably play with matchsticks as well."
"Money could become a problem. This doesn’t look like a place that will offer us much work."
"No work," he said. "Sounds good to me."
She smiled, despite herself.
One of the men who had been leaning against the bar strolled over to them. His hair was long and grizzled, and he wore a flannel shirt, suspenders, and baggy brown trousers with a gun stuffed in the waistband. "Not that I was payin’ no mind to your talk, mister, but, you say something about work?"
McLowry frowned. "You got pretty fine hearing, old man. Must be part Apache."
"’Pache’s the reason for the work. My son’s sheriff in this here town. You folks are new here and you might think it’s a pretty odd place to put a town, and it is, ‘cept for one thing. It’s got silver. One pure, beautiful vein of it. The men in the town mined it, and now we got to get it to Tucson to be sold. The money ain’t all profit--it’s the mine workers' wages as well. We ran out of funds three months ago, but the men saw how close we was to reaching the vein, so they kept diggin’. Now, the whole town depends on the wagons with the ore getting through, past the ‘Paches as well as hold up men. You got the look of a good man with a gun. Will you help?"
McLowry glanced at Gabe, but her attention was on the old man. "You’ve got ore to sell now?" she asked.
"That’s right."
"And word’s gotten out that you’ll be moving it?"
"Can’t keep nothin’ secret in a place like this, ‘special when so many folks and families is involved."
"Are you worried that someone like, well, like Will Tanner and his gang will hear about it?"
"’Course we’re worried. That’s why we’re looking for good men to help us."
Gabe met McLowry’s eye. He faced the old man. "Sounds dangerous," he said. "I heard Tanner’s somewhere around here."
The old man shrugged. "Tanner’s always around here. Seems he’s got some sorta hideout in the hills. He can’t stop a whole town, though."
Gabe’s heart leaped at the news. So that was why Blackie Lane was headed this way.
"We’ll pay good money to anyone who helps us get the ore to Tucson where we can sell it," the old man continued. "After it’s sold, there’ll be plenty of money to go around for everyone. Folks got their life savings in this mine, and they’re holding on best they can."
"How many men plan to go with you?" McLowry asked.
"’Bout ten. But they’re farmers and miners. None ‘cept my son’s got more than passin’ skill with a gun. There’s about fifteen men all tol’ dependin’ on this trip. But we can’t all go. Some’s too old, like me, and we’d get in the way. So the rest of us’ll stay here, keep an eye on the women and children. If the men make it to Tucson to sell the ore, there’ll be plenty of money to go around--even enough for a hired gun. Those men could use your gun...McLowry."
Gabe lay her hand on McLowry’s arm. This man, too, knew him by sight, knew his reputation. That explained why he was willing to tell Jess so much about what was going on here, why he was so open about everything. He thought Jess was still a hired gun. She saw him mulling over the man’s words and it scared her. He had given up that kind of work, at least she thought he had.
McLowry knew it was much more likely that Tanner would try to ambush the miners out on the open range than to come to town to do it. If he went along, he could meet Tanner out there and maybe even manage to talk to him. Maybe convince him to get far away from here and keep away from Gabe. His voice, when he turned to the old man, was low and firm. "I’ll go as long as my cousin stays here in Dry Springs until I return."
Gabe was confused. Why was Jess interested in doing this? Why did he want her to stay in Dry Springs? Tanner’s hideout was nearby. It made sense that he might come to town looking for money or silver instead of trying to chase down a dozen men on the open desert. Well, if he did, she would be here waiting. She didn’t understand it, but she agreed. "Sounds fine...Cousin Jess."
Chapter 12
The next morning, McLowry went to the livery stable to join the small outfit that would be guarding the ore as it left Dry Springs. The old man had said there would be about ten men altogether. He had failed to say, though, that all but two gave the impression that the deadliest thing they had ever wielded was a pitchfork.
McLowry swung himself onto his saddle. Leading three wagons with silver ore meant the going would be slow. The outfit probably wouldn’t see Tucson until the eighth day. Once there, the sale of the ore would have to be negotiated. At least the ride back should be fast. Overall, they would be gone twelve to fourteen days.
The townspeople stood on the street watching silently as the wagons rolled out of town. Gabe stood beside Mrs. Huckleby, who had let them rooms for the night. The people were so silent the only noise to be heard was the clip-clop of the pack mules and horses, and the rolling of the iron wheels.
The journey to Tucson should be trouble-free, McLowry thought. Few robbers would steal wagonloads of silver ore. But once the ore was exchanged for cash, these men would have a real problem on their hands unless the robbers were too busy laughing at the motley group to rob them.
He was their best chance. He couldn’t help but think that if he were smart, once in Tucson, he would
simply keep riding in the opposite direction from Dry Springs, Gabriella Devere, and her revenge. He wouldn’t, though. Since Gabe had come into his life, he’d been nothing if not plain dumb.
o0o
The Huckleby home was large, with four bedrooms that had been rented out during the heyday of the Dry Springs mine. Now, the house was empty except for Gabe. The furnishings were plain and sturdy, the house comfortable.
Gabe stood at the window in the front parlor. Fifteen days had gone by since McLowry and the others, including Mrs. Huckleby’s husband, Lew, left town. They should have been back by now.
McLowry had bamboozled her, that was for sure. Tanner never did show up in Dry Springs, and it hadn’t taken her long to figure out that if Tanner had, in fact, learned about Dry Spring’s silver ore, he would also have heard it wasn’t in town anymore. The chance of him showing up here was remote to nil. God, but she was a ninny! She should have insisted on going with McLowry. But even if she had, he and the other men never would have allowed her on that trip. She might, though, have followed along on her own.
There was no work in Dry Springs so Gabe had spent her time making rounds of the homesteads whose men were away. She checked on the women to see if they and their children were all right and if they needed anything from town. At least doing that, she felt useful, instead of moping about worrying about McLowry and feeling guilty because three of her family’s murderers were still running free. But the worry was constant. Even at night she was beset by nightmares, including one in which she held a gun on Tanner, ready to shoot...but when she looked at him more closely, he turned into Jess. She awoke shaken from that, reminding herself she had to be very careful and very sure before actually pulling the trigger.
On this day, she didn’t need to make any rounds. The women whose husbands and sons had gone to Tucson had shown up in town early to await the men’s arrival. A few tried to act unconcerned as they went about their business. Gabe saw them step into the General Store and buy a few provisions, chat with each other on the boardwalk, or have a cup of tea or lunch in Mrs. Huckleby’s dining room. After each activity, they would go out onto the main street of town and their gazes would turn westward, toward Tucson, looking for dust clouds against the sky, the sign of a group of men riding fast toward home, their pockets full of money.
Dance With A Gunfighter Page 11