He took the ribbons back from Ruby, gave the bay enough slack to lower its muzzle to the lush blue-stem growing in the shady slot, then lowered the shay's oilcloth top as he explained, 'I left us just enough room to watch, yon wagon trace over the tops of that piled brush. I want anybody coming along now to have to guess where even the tops of our heads might be.'
She didn't complain. It was just as shady under the gumbolimbo branches arching overhead. She took off her sunbonnet and shook out her long dyed hair, saying, 'I hope nobody ever comes along. It's so cool and, well... romantic in this little nook you found for us, you devil.'
He removed his own hat to break up the pattern someone tailing them might be watching for. It was no accident that the Indians made the hand sign for a white man by holding a stiff palm across their brow. Currier and Ives would have it that the Indians with their hands like that were shading their eyes as they peered off in the distance for white folks. Folks who knew Indians better knew any Indian holding his hand like so had already spotted white folks. The way a white rider's hat brim divided his head between light and shadow was more obvious at a distance.
They sat hatless for a long time, and nothing seemed to be taking place on the wagon trace. Longarm was dying for some sleep or a smoke, in that order. Since neither seemed safe just then he said, 'They must have figured where I was headed and fell back when I spooked 'em by reining in, as if I'd spotted 'em.'
She sniffed and asked if he might not be taking a lot for granted, adding she was used to being followed some herself.
Longarm chuckled at the picture and assured her, 'I'm sure I see why, Miss Ruby. But no offense, I figure the odds on a crook trailing me are greater than those for an admirer trailing a lady with an armed escort. To begin with, there's been a lot of such sinister trailing going on of late.'
Since she seemed to care, he brought her up to date on his recent brushes with sinister strangers, having no call to hold back all that much. For as he'd told La Bruja around this time the day before, they hadn't sent him on any secret mission.
Once he'd told Ruby what he had been sent down this way to tend to, she said, 'You're right. It's mysterious as hell. If someone was out to rescue that outlaw you were sent to fetch, wouldn't they do better going after the lawmen holding him before you ever got here?'
He repressed a yawn and said, 'That's about the size of it. Marshal Vail never sent me down here to pester anybody else, and the Rangers in Corpus Christi agreed the two gunslicks I can account for by name ain't wanted state or federal. Not by those names, at any rate. So I'd say the mysterious mastermind offering money to have me back-shot has a mighty uneasy conscience and suspects I'm really on to him.'
This time he couldn't help from yawning as he added, 'I sure wish I knew what I'm supposed to have on him. So far two innocent bystanders, another nice gal and an innocent kid, have stopped bullets meant for me, and I'm commencing to feel mighty vexed!'
Ruby said, 'I can see how anyone would. Tell me more about that Mex whore, La Bruja. You say she admitted she'd been offered money to do you dirty, Custis?'
He nodded but said, 'Bruja stands for witch, not whore, and you might say she's more a doxy or outlaw gal than either. I suspect she operates something like an Anglo gal called Belle Starr, up north in the Cherokee Strip near Fort Smith. Gents on the dodge need places to stay, store their ill-gotten gains, and mayhaps swap mounts betwixt owlhoot adventures. Had La Bruja and her own gang wanted to do me dirty for that bounty on my fool head, she'd have had no call to tell me all about it and help me slip out of town on the sneak after dark, right?'
Ruby shrugged and replied, 'I suppose not. What sort of a lay did you say this Mexican spitfire was, handsome?'
Longarm yawned some more and replied, 'I never said. I never do. A man who'd talk dirty about a lady who's been nice to him would no doubt write dirty words on walls as well.'
She insisted, 'A lot of men do. I've been in the gents' room after visiting hours at my, ah... place of business. Is that why you'd rather fool with outlaw greaser gals than a white gal like me, Custis? I ain't been with a man since my last period, if that's what's stopping you!'
He laughed incredulously and declared, 'For Pete's sake, we've pulled off the trail in broad daylight to find out who's been trailing us with possibly sinister intent!'
To which she demurely replied, 'Pooh, nobody's coming on that old wagon trace, and I'd just love to come with you in this sweet old love nest you've brought me to, you big tease.'
He fought back another yawn, knowing how cruel it might look to yawn at such a time, as he insisted, 'There really was another pony trotting along under those infernal trees, Miss Ruby.'
She began to unbutton her formatting calico bodice as she said, 'I'm not calling you a fibber. As I told you before, some of us are wicked because we want to punish ourselves, whilst others are wicked because they want it, a lot. I lost track of how many lovers I had on the side before I decided it made more sense to just leave my old husband and get paid for what I enjoyed most. The poor dear I married young was rich as well as horny enough, at first. But I fear I'm just too warm-natured to ever settle down with one man. Do you think that makes me some sort of a freak, Custis?'
He answered honestly, 'If you're a freak you've got plenty of company, Miss Ruby, albeit few are quite as honest about feelings a lot of us seem to feel. I like to tell myself I can't stay true to one particular gal because of the tumbleweed of occasions when I nearly got caught. I told myself, as well as the gal, that a man who packs a badge with my rep has no right to ask any lady to risk an early as well as likely widowhood, and I reckon I've really meant that more than once. But if the truth be told, I've always recovered from the wistful feeling of moving on.'
She said she knew exactly what he meant, and added, 'Let's get my lap robe out of the back and spread it on the grass in this sweet shade for some real sweet screwing!'
But he sighed and replied, 'in tall, shaded grass, along the gulf coast after a rain, Miss Ruby? I can see you ain't been down this way long. They call 'em red bugs over near New Orleans and chiggers west of Galveston. By either name they bite like hell and itch way worse than mosquitos. There's one breed of red bug that burrows in under your nails and more delicate places to raise a rash that just won't quit. So take my advice and don't ever even spread a picnic blanket on the grass in a gumbo-limbo thicket, hear?'
Her form was popping out considerably now as she asked where, in that case, he wanted to screw her.
He gulped and started to point out he'd never asked to screw her anywhere. But he didn't want to sound like a
