His shoulder wound was hurting, but he didn’t want Jose to know that.
“I might as well give my horse a night’s rest.”
“I will tell the clerk at the hotel that you are not to be charged for the night. The same for the livery.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“It is the least we can do, senor. After all, you did give us back our town.”
Yeah, Decker thought, until the next
Chapter Fifteen
Decker went to the cantina and found Paco back behind the bar, limping back and forth as he attempted to clean the mess of broken glass behind it. Decker could hear it crunching beneath the man’s feet.
“Paco, you should be off your feet.”
“And who will take care of by business?” Paco asked, frowning unhappily. “Look at this mess. Glass, broken wood, and holes in my ceiling…”
He gave Decker a look that said it was all his fault. Maybe having his town back wasn’t worth the mess his cantina was in.
Indeed, the place was a shambles. Pieces of broken tables and broken glass littered the floors. And something would have to be done about the square hatches Decker’d had the men saw in the floors of the rooms above.
“What about your neighbors? Won’t they help you clean up?”
“They are all off somewhere getting drunk, bragging about how they killed twenty
“This town is really a great place to live, isn’t it, Paco?”
Paco scowled and did not answer.
“Where is Juanita?”
“Upstairs in her room.”
“May I go and see her?”
Decker went upstairs, found the door and knocked.
“Come in.”
He entered and Juanita smiled from the bed.
“I knew you would come.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” she said, but he knew she was lying.
“That’s good,” he said, “because my shoulder hurts like hell.”
She smiled and said, “Yes, so does mine. Will you be staying the night?”
“Yes. The sheriff has extended to me the hospitality of the hotel.”
“No, you will stay here with us.”
“That’s all right—”
“I insist—and later, during the night, when father is asleep, you can come to me.”
“Come to you?”
“We will make love, no?”
He smiled at her and said, “With the two of us toting these bad shoulders around?”
“We will manage.”
“Juanita—”
“You do not want me because you know Gilberto has had me,” she said, sadly.
He sat on the bed and said, “That isn’t it at all.”
“Then why?”
“I wouldn’t do that under your father’s roof.”
“We can go somewhere—”
“You will stay right in that bed, young lady”
“Then we will not make love?”
“I’m afraid not,” he said, and then added, “not this time.”
She brightened.
“When you come back this way?”
“Perhaps,” he said, “when I’ve finished my job.”
“And by then we will both be healed.”
“Yes.”
“And we will make wild, passionate love.”
He grinned at her enthusiasm and said, “We will see. Right now I think I’ll earn my keep by going downstairs and helping your father clean up.”
“You will be leaving in the morning?”
“Yes.”
“Will you come and say goodbye first?”
“I’ll be leaving early.”
“Wake me.”
“All right,” he said, “I’ll wake you. Get some rest, now.”
Decker went downstairs and offered to help Paco clean up, an offer Paco accepted with his customary frown.
Turning in for the night Decker found himself thinking not of Juanita down the hall, but of Raquel Diaz, sitting in a jail cell.
“If you want me,” she had said, “come and get me.”
What a waste.
Chapter Sixteen
As the new sheriff of San Louisa, Red Moran had the run of the town even more than he had before, if that was even possible.
He moved out of the hotel and into the sheriff’s office, but still intended to use the hotel room for visits with certain citizens.
All of his meals were offered to him for free, as were his drinks, but he continued to pay for them, anyway. It pleased him to do so, and he knew that the townspeople liked his money. Maybe, if he started taking advantage of his new position, they wouldn’t be so happy to have him anymore.
Eventually, he found out something that he had been wondering about: whether or not San Louisa had any new whores in town. Well, he found out in a big way. One of them—a fiery redhead from Texas—caught his eye because he was from Texas, too.
Suddenly, he wasn’t so convinced that the best-looking, best-feeling, best-tasting women came from Mexico.
Carmen and Rosa didn’t like that at all.
The redhead’s name was Crystal, and she was only too happy to service the new sheriff of San Louisa who, she had heard, paid very well.
“I have to tell you one thing,” Red Moran said, watching Crystal get dressed.
“What?” she asked, smiling.
“You really are going to make it hard for the Mexican gals in this town to make a living.”
“That’s a sweet thing to say,” she said, sliding her second stocking up her long leg.
