The Lawman

breasts against Decker’s arm.

“Senor, how can I help?”

“Well, I’ll tell you, Juanita,” Decker said, nudging Ramon’s plate. “Maybe you could just fix up a big batch of these here tortillas—you know, the ones with the big bite in them?”

“It will be a pleasure, senor.”

Chapter Eight

Red Moran liked Mexican food almost as much as he liked Mexican women. That was why he figured that when he settled down for good, it would be down here, in Mexico.

He was in the cantina, finishing up some chicken and rice with beans when Carmen, the big-breasted whore, entered, obviously looking for him.

“Ah, senor Red,” she said, smiling when she saw him.

“Carmen. Sit yourself down, sweetheart.”

She sat opposite him. She was wearing a very low-cut peasant blouse and was giving him a good look at her swollen breasts. Her nipples were pressing against the blouse.

“I wanted to tell you how happy I was that you are back, senor Red, but last night…well, last night Rosa was there, too.”

“I thought you two were friends.”

“Oh, we are friends,” she said, “very good friends, senor Red—but even with a friend one does not wish to share a man such as yourself.”

Moran smiled.

“I know what you mean,” he said. “You’re both beautiful, but being in bed with both of you a man doesn’t know where to look first.”

“And so?” she said, grinning. “Now that we are alone, you would know where to look?”

“I would know where to look,” he said, leaning forward, peering down her blouse, “and where to touch.”

“Are you…finished eating, senor Red?”

“I am finished, Carmen.”

They both stood up and walked up to his room together.

The bartender was clearing the table when Rosa came storming in.

“Raul, have you seen Rosa?”

“Si.”

“Where?”

The bartender simply looked up at Moran’s room and continued clearing the table.

“Puta!” Rosa snapped, which was an odd thing for a whore to call a whore.

She stormed up the stairs angrily, vowing to pull Carmen’s hair out by the roots for trying to get more of Red Moran’s money for herself.

The bartender paused long enough to watch her climb the steps, skirt swirling around her marvellous calves, and then went into the kitchen. From there, he would not hear the noise when the two cats began to fight over the mouse.

Gilberto Diaz, Raquel and their men were riding to Gilberto’s town at a fairly leisurely pace.

“I hope Ramon has Juanita cook up a big batch of tortillas,” Gilberto said to Raquel.

“That is all she is good for, that one,” Raquel said. “Cooking.”

“That is all she is good for as far as you are concerned,” Gilberto said, smiling. “I can find other uses for little Juanita.”

“She is fat,” Raquel spat, “like a cow.”

“She is a comfortable woman, that one. Teats like pillows, and thighs like—”

“I do not wish to hear this!” Raquel snapped.

“And you?” he asked. “Will you let a man come near you and touch you?”

“When I find a man who deserves me.”

“Hah! With the high opinion you have of yourself, you would think you were a queen.”

“I am a queen,” she said, raising her chin. “Queen of the bandidos.”

“I am the king of the bandidos,” Gilberto pointed out, and you are my sister. That does not make you a queen, mi hermana.”

“To be your queen a woman would have to be married to you,” Raquel said, “and I would not wish that on any woman.”

Gilberto threw his sister an admiring glance. She had proud firm breasts and long legs. If she were not his sister…and perhaps, soon, that would not be enough to matter.

But now, his thoughts were of Juanita.

“My little Juanita will have a feast for me,” he said with a leer.

Raquel looked at her brother and thought brutally, I hope she bits your cojones off!

Chapter Nine

True to his word, Jose returned with more men with guns, but as Decker counted, he saw that they were going to come up some short.

Outside the saloon, with the men standing in the street waiting for instructions, he spoke to Jose.

“Jose, how many men would you say Gilberto has?”

Jose rubbed his jaw and said, “Twenty-five, senor, perhaps more.”

“How many more?”

“No more than thirty.”

“We have fifteen,” Decker said, looking at the men in the street.

Jose’s face fell.

“We cannot do it, senor?”

The worried look on his face was so pathetic that Decker reached out and patted the man on the shoulder reassuringly.

“Oh, we’ll do it, Jose. We just have to figure out the right way.”

“You will figure that out, senor, will you not?” Jose asked with a big smile.

“I’m sure going to give it a try, Jose,” Decker said. “We’ll give it one helluva try.”

Sometime later, Decker, Jose and three other men arrived at the cantina with saws and hammers in their hands.

“What are you going to do?” Paco asked, eyeing them with great concern.

“We are going to make some small adjustments to your establishment, Paco,” Decker said.

The men walked past him and went up the steps to the second floor.

“What do you mean, adjustments?”

“Nothing that will damage your cantina, Paco—at least, nothing that can’t be fixed later,” Decker said, trying to soothe the man.

Juanita came out from the kitchen and moved behind the bar, next to her father.

“Is everything ready in the kitchen, Juanita?” Decker asked.

“Everything is ready, senor Decker.”

“Aiee, I do not like this,” Paco said, putting his head in his hands.

“Please, Papa,” she said, “senor Decker knows what he is doing.”

“Perhaps,” Paco said, “but I do not think I know what I am doing.”

“You’re pouring drinks, Paco, like always,” Decker said, “just pouring drinks.”