23
“What will you do next?” Lupe asked, lying fully dressed on the bed beside him.
“Ride down to Sonora.” His mind wasn’t on their conversation, nor the inviting woman’s presence close by.
“It’s hot down there this time of year.” She wrinkled her nose at the idea.
“Maybe go up and try my luck in the gold camps of Colorado.” Slocum rolled over on his stomach and propped himself up on his elbow to face her.
“Take me along?”
“What would your people do for a doctor?”
“They could go to that old drunk in Arido.”
He shook his head.
“That woman, Juanita, she’s got to you, huh, hombre?”
“All women do that.”
“No, hombre, that James woman got to you.”
“That’s all over, whatever. She’s back with her John and I guess I better make tracks out of here.”
Lupe began to run her hand down the back of his head. “I could make you forget her.”
“I bet you could.” He chuckled at her words—little doubt about her making him forget everything. “If I was in the mood.”
“Mood! You are love-struck, Slocum. I never saw you this bad.”
“Can’t help it.”
In defeat, she sat up and stuck her feet in her thongs. “I must go get some meat from the butcher in Arido or you will have frijoles again.”
“I’ll go along. I need to speak to Bailey if I can find him.”
“Good.”
“Why good?” he asked.
She looked put out at him. “Maybe if you stay that long, I can get you to take off your clothes?”
“Maybe.”
“You are in a bad way.” She shook her head in disapproval, then tossed on the black net shawl.
With some effort, he drew on his boots. The short nap he’d managed to get in had done little for the weariness that had settled in since he’d returned Juanita to Chisum. But if he could find Bailey—that might be another story. The big man might have already left Arido. As infatuated as he’d seemed with Marty, he might be down on the Rio Rita by this time. When Slocum glanced up from his task, he could tell Lupe was acting impatient to go to town as she stood in the doorway.
“We can ride double,” he offered, working his foot into the second boot.
“That’s fine.”
He grabbed his hat, put it on, and went out the door after her. With the horse unhitched, reins on its neck, he mounted, then lowered his arm for her to catch a hold. In a bound, he swung her up behind him and she laughed, fighting down her many-layered skirt and moving to get closer to his back.
The horse shied at her being there, and Slocum checked him.
“We may get bucked off,” he warned her, amused at the antics of the cow pony under them. “He may not be broke to ride double.”
Her arms closed around his waist and she pressed her firm breasts into his back. “Let’s break him on the way to town.”
The hill road wound along a dry wash down the canyon and came into the village on the west side. It entered Main Street between the courthouse and a small residence. Slocum reined up the horse short of Main, then helped her to ease down to her feet.
Then he dismounted, keeping an eye out for any sign of trouble. He spotted Bailey’s horse standing hip-shot in front of the saloon across the street. Good, he was still there; might be real drunk by this time.
“I am going to the butcher,” she reminded Slocum, and set off with a cloth poke on her arm.
“I won’t be long. Meet you back at the horse.”
“Good.” She smiled and winked at him, then hurried down the side of the road. He watched her shapely derriere, and then shook his head. She had her head set on one thing. Trouble was, he could do a lot worse than Lupe.
He pulled down his hat brim and moved quickly to the saloon porch. There was nothing out of place, but he’d been minding his own business less than a week before and some bounty hunter had jumped him or tried to. The man might have healed by this time, and be back collecting bounties. Slocum pushed in the bat-wing doors and stepped inside, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness of the interior.
“Over here.” From a side table, Bailey waved him over to join him. “Damn, I thought you’d lit a shuck. Heard you brought Juanita back to him.”
Slocum nodded. The only other customers in the place were two older men at the bar. They acted uninterested in him, so he eased himself down on the chair. Bailey called for the bartender to bring another glass.
“I thought you’d be out of here,” Slocum said, pouring himself some of the man’s bottled whiskey.
“I quit Chisum.” Bailey raised his glass and stared off across the stale-smelling barroom. “I guess I should have realized—he was behind all the violence.”
“Bailey, you can spend your life sorting out what you should have done. You did it. Get on with your life.”
“You think—dammit, I ain’t a hand with women. You think Marty would take me knowing what she does? I mean, about who I worked for and all?”
“Yes.” Slocum tossed down some whiskey. “Get down there. What’re you waiting for? The reward?”
“No. Say, I aim to split that with you. You up and run out on me.”
“How much?”
“They said fifteen hundred for the three of them. But half of it’s yours. They got to wire it down from Santa Fe, and it may come tomorrow.”
“I may have to be gone.”
“Where can I send it?”
“Give it to Marty. She needs it.”
“Damn, Slocum, let me give you some money. Expenses anyway.”
Slocum tried to make the man stop, but he dragged out four double eagles and put them in his hand. “Them’s Chisum’s.” Bailey grinned. “He owes you that much.”
“Gracias, amigo. Take good care of Marty. I’ll be by to see you sometime.”
“She told me you had trouble hounding your heels.” Bailey said. “Take the rest of the whiskey with you. I’m going to make a damn fool of myself. But you convinced me to do it.”
“Give her my love too.”
“I bet she’d rather see you than me.”
“No, Bailey, you go take care of her. Remember, there’s always more John Chisum’s out there.”
“I won’t ever forget that.” He grasped his hat by the brim, set it down over his face, and rose to his full frame. “I ever can help you, you call on me.”
“I will.” They shook hands, and Slocum followed him outside.
She was waiting beside his horse. He nodded to her, then jammed the half bottle of whiskey into his saddlebags.
“Get some meat?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said quietly. He turned and frowned at her.
“What is it?” he whispered.
“They are going to break the Coyote out of the jail.”
He stared at the brown-plaster two-story building when he mounted and swung the horse around. There were U.S. marshals in there, all armed to the teeth guarding the place. He brought his arm down for her, and raised her up behind him on the horse.
“Who’s going to try?”
“I don’t know,” she said, scooting up to his back. “But Coyote has many friends.”
“No need to warn them. They’ll figure it out soon enough. No, I don’t think they can get him out, short of bringing an army in here.”
Her arms around his waist, he savored her closeness and set the pony into a trot. No sign of the bounty man, but he didn’t need to wear out his welcome in Arido.
“You hear anything about the man shot himself in the leg?” he asked over his shoulder.
“He took the stage the next day for El Paso.”
“Good place for him.” Slocum lifted the reins to guide the horse around a rough spot in the trail. Her hand tightened on his stomach.
“Does that mean you don’t have to rush away?” she asked.
He considered her request, then nodded. “I reckon I can stay a little while.”
“Good.” She put the side of her face on his back and took a new hitch around him.