The Mustanger and the Lady by Dusty Richards

Author:Dusty Richards [Richards, Dusty]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Oghma Creative Media

CHAPTER 12

The clear call of the rooster quail came on the wings of darkness. Awakened by the whistle, Vince strained to hear. No mistaking the sharp two-note song of the game bird. On his elbows, he listened to May’s soft breathing beside him. She was sound asleep. Was Juan outside signaling to him? Apaches used the bird call to locate each other during a hunt or attack to tell the others where they were.

Quietly, he slipped off the bed so as not to disturb her and pulled on his jeans. His fingers closed on the smooth wooden handle of the .44. Vince cocked his head to listen. The call came again.

Satisfied Juan was signaling him, he slipped through the dark house illuminated only by the dim starlight that frosted areas beneath the windows.

On the porch Vince scented the piney air, fresh with the night coolness. He watched Juan slip from the dark shadows of the trees and cross the yard.

“You all right, amigo?” Vince asked. “I guess you know the damn Army was through here looking for you. They had three Apaches in chains.”

“The pony boys and army look for the wind,” Juan said as the two men sat on the porch’s edge.

“Would those prisoners tell the Army about you?”

“No, they saw me. I wanted to free them but they shook their head.”

“Shook their head?” Vince could not understand their refusal of his aid.

“Too risky. Besides, the Army will free them in San Carlos after the Papagos insult them all the days going back.”

“So the rumors of the wild renegade Apache on the loose will persist?” Vince asked, amused by the insight. “Any sign of the gunmen?”

“No, but I have found the camp of those who steal the horses.”

“You know where the horse thieves are?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ve heard them talk how easy it is to take the stock.”

Vince wished for his cigarette makings. Saliva flooded his mouth. “I sure thought Allison’s gunmen would be up here by now.”

Juan shook his head.

Vince stood up and stretched, still perplexed by the delay of the killers and wondering what he must do about the horse rustlers. Tell Perkins in the morning. “There are beans on the stove. Get something to eat. I think your disguise as a vaquero will work.”

“Sí, patrón,” Juan said and went inside.

Vince headed back for the side room. Entering, he saw May sitting up in her white night shirt, so he closed the board door for their privacy.

“What’s wrong?” Her voice was thick with sleep as she swept her short hair up.

“Nothing, Juan’s back. And there’s no sign of the killers.” He sat on the edge of the bed, restoring the Colt to the holster.

“You got up in the middle of the night for that?” she asked in disbelief.

Vince shed his britches and crawled into the bed. There were times he wished she wouldn’t be so damn obstinate. He kissed her and eased her down beneath him. His mouth silenced her. He’d explain it all later—for now he had other notions.

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