War Scout by Jack Hanson

Author:Jack Hanson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group

11

BARLOW SENT ROSARIA on her way with a light smack on the buttocks. Both were dressed now, though their bodies still tingled from the night’s-and the morning’s —activities.

Barlow was just sitting to the table in Viuda Garza’s poor excuse for a dining room when White Bear strutted in. He looked mighty pleased with himself, Barlow thought, and probably with good reason.

“Good day, old chap,” White Bear said in sprightly tones.

“Mornin’, hoss. Have a fulfillin’ night?”

“A lot more than fulfilling, old chap,” White Bear said jauntily as he reached for some eggs and chorizo. “She was superior, old chap. Something of which the likes of you wouldn’t know.”

Barlow laughed. “Jist ’cause you talk funny, hoss, don’t mean you’re really some high-class ol’ gentleman. You jist sound like you’re puttin’ on airs.”

“Perhaps, old chap. But she was incomparable, mate.” He glanced around as if ready to spread a great secret. “Best I ever had,” he added with a wink and a grin.

“Might be I could say the same thing about Rosaria,” Barlow admitted, also grinning. “Back in my mountaineer days, I had heard the women down here were somethin’ special. I never believed it then. Jist thought it was some ol’ critters spoutin’ off to make themselves look better’n they really are.” His smiled widened. “A common malady amongst us old mountaineers.”

“Indeed, old chap,” White Bear commented dryly.

“But I must’ve been wrong all those years,” Barlow said, beginning to shovel food in his mouth. “Either that, or we jist happened to strike the mother lode as far as women go. Good goddamn, that woman like to have worn my pecker down to nothin’.”

“You didn’t have much to start with, old chap,” White Bear said with a straight face. Then he burst into laughter.

Barlow shook his head, flickering images of the last night’s activities flashing through his mind. He was still awed by his encounter with Rosaria Chavez.

They fell into silence while they ate. When they finished, they pushed their chairs back, had Viuda Garza refill their coffee mugs, and then they lit up pipes.

“So, old chap,” White Bear said through the cloud of pipe smoke surrounding him, “what’s your plan for today?”

“Well,” Barlow responded thoughtfully, “we mostly covered the town as far as shops and sich go. But there’s some other folks I ain’t had a chance to talk to.”

“Like who?”

“The rich ones, hoss. The rich ones. Those’re the folks who really have enough money to buy Injin children—or any others-to use as slaves. I reckon I’ll round up Ortega and see if he’ll direct us to the right places, and translate.”

White Bear rose and knocked the ashes from his pipe into the fire. “Then let’s be off, old chap.”

With a well-fed Buffalo 2 trotting around them, the two men made their way to El Toro Loco. Their reception was even more hostile than it had been on their previous visit. They ordered some mescal from the sullen bartender. While they waited for him to bring the drinks, Barlow said, “Judgin’ by the looks of these folks, I’d say they heard about our little ruckus last night.

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