One Notch to Death by Matt Chisholm

Author:Matt Chisholm
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: cowboys, western frontier, cattle wars, the old west, peter watts, matt chisholm, gungfighters, the storm family
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing

Chapter Eleven

Mart Storm thought that if a woman could look beautiful in the cold light of dawn after sleeping in the open all night then she must be beautiful right through to her bones.

Vanessa Hargreaves came from her blankets smiling, fresh as a newly awakened child and with a lock of hair dropping fetchingly over her face.

Mart just sat there and stared. Not only was Miss Hargreaves not annoyed by his rudeness, she was totally unaware of it. Or so it seemed. She stretched luxuriously, thus revealing a fact to him that he already knew—that her body was as superb as her face. Which was saying something. She threw back her blankets and pulled on her boots. That done, she deigned to become aware of his presence, threw him a slightly superior but not unfriendly smile and said: ‘Good morning to you, Mr. Storm.’

‘Sleep well?’ he enquired.

‘Admirably,’ she replied. ‘I am more than ready for breakfast. But I would like a wash first.’

‘No breakfast,’ he said.

‘But I—’

‘And no wash.’

‘I certainly—’

‘No time an’ no water.’ He rose to his feet, adding: ‘Roll your blankets while I catch up the horses.’

She came up to him and put her hands on his arm.

‘Mr. Storm,’ she said, ‘if I asked you nicely. I do like to start the day with a cup of coffee. If you do that for me I promise that I shall behave and do all that you tell me.’

He looked around. The trees were pretty thick here. He might safely build a fire over yonder. He could drink a cup himself. Maybe there was no harm. Which goes to show just how soft a tough man can be with a woman like Vanessa Hargreaves.

He put off fetching in the horses, he built a fire that did not give off much smoke and he boiled some water from his canteen. They sat by the fire and sipped together in companionable silence. After a while, she said: ‘What will you do, Mr. Storm, when you have delivered me to my aunt?’

‘Ride.’

‘I didn’t presume that you would do anything else considering that it is the means of locomotion in this country,’ she told him.

‘Head for New Mexico,’ he said. ‘I have friends down there.’

‘Won’t the law find you there?’

‘It’s local county law that wants me here,’ he said. ‘Distance will most likely solve that problem.’ Would it solve his problem? he asked himself. How far would the friends of Pat Shaw and Stu Aintree be prepared to ride in search of him?

‘You’re a strange man.’

Mart didn’t know whether that was meant as a compliment or not.

‘You’re a strange woman,’ he said.

She smiled. She took that as a compliment.

From some thirty yards away, Darky whickered softly. Mart sat up. That could mean anything or nothing. He took it to mean something. That was the safest way.

He touched her on the arm and said softly: ‘Stay right where you’re at.’

He gave her credit. She was still. She merely turned her head and looked at him as if she wanted to judge the moment by the look on his face.

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