Three of the men who had been upstairs came downstairs now.
“Watch him,” he said, pointing to Gilberto, “and collect all the guns from the floor. I don’t want anyone to wake up and start shooting.”
The two men who had come in the front door moved forward to help, and Decker stood up.
“Where are you going?”
“There’s still one more.”
Juanita winced at the pain in her shoulder, but said, “Raquel. She went to the hotel.”
“She must have heard the shooting.”
“I’ll get her. Is there a doctor in this town?”
“Tell me where his office is and I’ll bring him back with me.”
Paco gave him directions and he left, first for the hotel, and then for the doctor.
Chapter Twelve
Raquel Diaz was luxuriating in a hot tub at the hotel, her hand idly rubbing herself between her legs, when she heard the shooting.
Her brother and his filthy men, shooting up the town again. You would think that since he claimed the town for himself he wouldn’t want to damage it, but he was probably drunk already.
She leaned back and ran her hand up over her belly and began to stroke her breasts. It had been a while since she’d had a man. Raquel teased the men she rode with, but she never slept with any of them. That would have cost her some of their respect, and she needed to maintain that. It was alright for Gilberto to eat and drink— and whore—with their men, but Raquel had to keep her distance. She had to get her men elsewhere, and rarely did she ever sleep with one twice. Even if she wanted to, she had either moved on—or killed them.
Decker entered the hotel and asked the clerk where the baths were. The man nervously eyed Decker’s wound and stammered as he replied, giving directions.
“In the b-back, senor,” the man said, “but the lady is t-taking a—”
“I know what the lady is doing.”
Decker walked down to the end of a hall and kicked the door open.
The woman in the tub stood up abruptly, water running off the glorious curves of her body. She reached for her gun, which was hanging on a chair next to the tub.
“Hold it!”
She stopped, bent over at the waist, large breasts dangling. This woman had the most beautiful body Decker had ever seen.
“Gringo?”
“That’s right.”
“Was it you who killed our two men?”
“Yes, but they tried to kill me.”
“There is no need to explain. They were fools. You were a better man, eh?”
“Yes.”
“And the shooting at the saloon?”
“The people of this town decided they didn’t like the idea of your brother claiming it.”
She nodded.
“May I straighten up?”
“Please do.”
Even with the wound in his shoulder hurting, Decker couldn’t help but react to this woman, and she knew it. She could make a dead man stand up and salute.
“May I know your name?”
“Decker.”
“I am Raquel Diaz.”
“A pleasure.”
The ends of her hair were damp and they stuck to her shoulders and breasts. She ran one hand over both breasts, then brought the other one up so she could palm both of them and flick the nipples.
“There is plenty of water in the tub, senor Decker,” she said, “and it would do your wound good.”
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to get dressed and come with me.”
“Shall I dry off first?”
“If you like.”
She stepped from the tub and he watched while she dried herself with a towel lovingly, taking a long time to do it, performing for him. He watched every move, regretting that at the moment he could do nothing about it, but watching with a certain amount of real pleasure. He had been on the trail for some time now, and seeing a woman, especially one as beautiful as this one, was a treat.
When she was dressed she stood facing him, hands on hips, and said, “My compliments, senor.”
“Why?”
“Any other man would have broken by now.”
“Broken?”
“Men have begged for me, senor.”
“I’m sure many men have broken, senorita, and with good reason.”
“I hope so.”
She started to reach for her gun and he said, “Ahah, leave it there.”
She smiled, raised her hands in surrender, and walked towards him. He backed away so she could come out into the hall, and that close to her he saw that she was almost as tall as he was. The skin of her face was brown, but flawless, without blemish—as was the flesh of her body.
“Tell me, senor. Did the townspeople ask you to help them do away with us?”
“No. I just happened along.”
“Our luck, eh?”
“I guess.”
They walked the rest of the way through the hotel in silence.
“We have to stop for the doctor,” he said when they were on the street.
“My brother?”
“He’s alive,” he assured her. “He’s got a bump on his head, but he’s alive.”
“From his little Juanita?”
“Yes.”
The woman laughed, an honest, hearty laugh that came from deep inside of her. It made chills run through him, and his groin ached.
“It serves him right,” she said when her laughter had subsided. “What of the rest of the men?”
“Most of them are dead, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, don’t apologize,” she said, waving a hand negligently. “I think I was ready to stop being a
They stepped down from the boardwalk to the street and Decker started walking back towards the saloon.
“Senor Decker?”
Pointing the other way she said, “The doctor’s office is in this direction.”
He stared at her, then simply said, “Thank you.”
