Desperadoes by Wilson Chris Scott

Author:Wilson, Chris Scott [Wilson, Chris Scott]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Boson Books
Published: 2011-04-03T16:00:00+00:00

“Rock of ages cleft for me,

Let me hide myself in thee,

Let the water and the blood,

From thy riven side which flowed…”

***

Floyd sucked deeply on the cheroot, held the smoke in his lungs, then jetted it over the boardwalk railing at the sky. He flexed his knee and began to rock the chair as he surveyed the first citizens to grace the street. As soon as Sophie came down they could go for breakfast. He had left her sleeping, a secret smile on her lips. In the daylight her scar hadn’t looked nearly so bad as he remembered. Not that he cared. It was healing fast, hair stubbling the fresh-scarred skin and soon she would bear no trace at all. He still couldn’t figure out how they had ended up in bed, but that didn’t matter either. It had happened and they had both enjoyed it. Or at least he hoped she had as much as he. It had given him a whole new perspective. Instead of the raw hunger for killing the man in black he had nurtured throughout the long ride here, the need was still with him but somehow the urgency had gone.

He inspected the end of his cheroot, blowing off the ashes. It still had to be done, of course, and it would be. Even if he had found something to replace what he’d had with Mary. The account still had to be closed. Anyhow, he couldn’t be sure Sophie would want to continue what they had begun last night. Perhaps she would just dismiss it and carry on as though nothing had happened between them. But he knew he didn’t want it to be over. It had been like coming home after a two-day ride in the dead of winter, feet frozen to the stirrups, then standing in front of a roaring fire. A good feeling.

He took a last draw from the cheroot then flicked it over the railing. It landed with a hiss in the water trough where a big roan was slaking its thirst. Floyd turned to look at the hotel door and into the lobby. Where was Sophie? He could feel his stomach growling like a starving timber wolf. As he leaned over the arm of the chair for a better view into the lobby, a gold ten-dollar piece fell out of his jeans pocket and clattered on the boardwalk.

“Aw, shit,” he said, grimacing as he strained down to pick it up.

There was the click of a gun hammer being cocked.

At the same time a pair of battered high-heeled boots came into sight, one of them coming down hard over the gold piece. It missed Floyd’s fingers by a bare inch. Floyd froze. Head down, only the boots in front of his eyes, he was figuring hard just what the hell to do next. Without thinking, he had reached down with his right hand, which put it a long stretch from his Colt. And bent over double wasn’t exactly the best position to be in when you were contemplating taking desperate action.

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