Spanish Blood by Mike Blakely

Author:Mike Blakely
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

Twenty

Domingo Archiveque arrived at Dog Canyon an hour after nightfall on a lathered horse. He left the animal hitched in front of the ranch house gallery, not even bothering to loosen the saddle cinch. His spurs rang like tambourines as they raked the wooden steps, and the meaty bottom of his fist pounded on the door.

“Who’s there?” Vernon Regis called from inside.

“Domingo.”

“Come in.”

Archiveque entered, the pale light of the pink lantern globe confusing his senses for a moment. Then he saw Sebastiana wrapped around Regis, the sheen of her satin dressing gown clashing with the floral pattern of the sofa.

Regis pushed her aside for the moment, and pointed to the bar. “It’s about time you got here. Pour yourself a drink.”

The gunman splashed the finest brandy he could find into a shot glass.

“Did they scare?” Regis asked, reaching for Sebastiana’s thigh.

“No,” Archiveque said, avoiding the woman’s eyes. He knew she would be looking at him. “I fired at them from three different places south of Santa Fe, but they kept going. They camped near Fort Stanton last night.”

The speculator shrugged. “It’s just as well. Let them get way the hell out in the hills where nobody will ever know what hit them. Can you hire men around here?”

Archiveque nodded. “I can find maybe ten men in Socorro and El Paso.”

Regis nodded. “You can stay out in the guest house tonight. There’s some beef in the kitchen. Help yourself.”

Archiveque threw back the brandy, allowing himself to glance at Sebastiana. Her lashes languished over her eyes, but he saw her dark pupils staring back. He took the bottle of brandy with him, his spurs ringing as he walked behind the sofa, through the dining room, and into the kitchen.

As he ate the beef and buttered bread, he could hear Regis grunting in the parlor and knew Sebastiana was pleasuring him with a few of her many wiles. He put his hand over his right spur, to keep it from jingling, and unbuckled it. He raked his fork across his plate a few times to make it sound as if he were still eating, then unbuckled the left spur. He slurped his brandy and clinked the glass against the plate as he got up. Moving silently through the dark dining room, he went to the parlor door, and peered through the crack he had left on purpose.

In the pink light he saw the back of Regis’s head above the sofa back. Sebastiana was on top of him, facing him, holding him by the ears, rising and falling as if riding a rough horse at a trot. The speculator’s breath rattled from his lungs in short gasps.

Sebastiana saw Domingo watching from the kitchen and smiled at him. She licked her lips. She reined her horse in from its trot, and settled low in the seat. Pushing herself away from Regis’s face at arm’s length, she looked blankly into the speculator’s eyes as she reached for the belt of her dressing gown. Untying it, she let the satin fall away from her shoulders.

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