She had been bathing when the Cortez family and Rusty gathered for breakfast. Rusty had nodded his head approvingly when Jordy informed him that he would be going to San Angelo later that morning. Enrique Cortez volunteered to help dig a grave for Thor, and after breakfast they had retrieved the coffin from the barn and carried it to the cemetery.
When they were ready to place Thor’s coffin in the grave, Sierra called from the path and told them to wait. She read a blessing for animals which she said was written by Saint Francis of Assisi, the Patron Saint of animals. With a sling of two ropes, Jordy and Enrique then lowered the vessel into the grave. While they were filling the grave with dirt, Sierra had vanished as quickly as she appeared.
When Jordy arrived in San Angelo, he stopped at the freight office to speak to Juana, who was busy at her desk when he came in. He had spoken briefly with her before the funeral at the ranch; he had been unable to locate her after he spoke with Frank Bell Russo, the lawyer. She had evidently returned to town immediately after the service.
Juana waved him to her desk when she saw him, gesturing for him to be seated in one of the captain’s chairs in front. She finished writing something in a ledger book and then put her pencil down. “Sorry,” she said. “Scheduling problems. We need the rest of our wagon crews back—and the mules. Business is booming.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I stopped by to tell you about some time you’ve got to carve out for Friday.” He told her about the lawyer’s summons.
“How strange,” she said. “I cannot imagine why Tige and I would be invited. Tige needs to get back to work. Vacation’s over, and I intend to tell him that.”
Jordy smiled. “You are a slave driver—whoops, poor choice of words.”
She laughed. “He calls me that all the time. I tell him I won’t sell him to anybody else, and I swear the way some of these women look at him, I think he’d bring a good price.”
Juana obviously loved Tige fiercely, and Jordy wondered what it would be like to have a woman love you like that. They chatted for five or ten minutes about the freight operations before Jordy said, “I have another errand while I’m in town, and then I’ve got to get back to the ranch. Don’t worry about the lawyer’s meeting. I know nothing about Jack’s arrangements, but he wouldn’t have done anything that would jeopardize your jobs.”
As he stepped out onto the boardwalk, he looked down the street toward the warped board front of Tobe’s Tavern. Only a few horses at the hitching post in front. That was good. Of course, things did not wake up at places like Tobe’s until at least dusk. He left Buster hitched in front of the freight office and walked down the boardwalk before crossing the dusty street. When he reached the front of the saloon, he paused a moment, took a deep breath and pushed through the batwing doors.
He stopped abruptly when he was greeted by the large painting of a stark-naked Sierra Wills hanging on the wall behind the bar for all the world to view. His eyes remained fastened on her image as he approached the bar and ordered a beer. When the young bartender placed a full mug in front of him, Jordy dropped two quarters on the bar, one for the beer and the other for the bartender.
“Where’s Tobe?” Jordy asked.
“Upstairs, and he don’t want to be bothered.”
Jordy tossed a dollar bill on the bar. “Bother him. Tell him Jordy Jackson wants to see him and that it’s about money.”
The bartender picked up the dollar and headed upstairs, while Jordy found a table in the corner of the tavern’s small seating area. He pulled out a chair and sat down, his eyes still fixed on the painting. She had not been much more than a girl when she posed, but the subject was undeniably Sierra. He guessed the painting to be about six feet wide and four feet high, with Sierra’s perfect form stretched across its width, resting on a background of colorful pillows, one leg lifted suggestively, and her hand tossed casually over her muff to allow only imagination to see the rest. She was leaning on one elbow, facing the observer as if caught by surprise while engaged in some obscene act. Her breasts appeared firm and taut, not large but well formed. The artist had captured the eyes perfectly, a kaleidoscope of hazel shades of greens, browns and blues appearing, dependent upon angle and light. And the eyes seemed to look directly and invitingly at the viewer.
The artist was extremely talented, Jordy thought, admitting he had no basis for judging such things. His lust was uncomfortably triggered by the painting and the thought that this perfect creature had kissed him the night before and later lain beside him chastely in the moonlight. He suspected it would be easy enough to lure customers to the business upstairs once they had viewed the painting on the tavern wall.
“What do you want, Jackson?”
Jordy looked up. It was Tobias Marx, wearing a filthy suit and shirt and three days’ growth of whiskers. He was a tall, middle-aged man, lean except for a beer gut that looked like it carried a watermelon. Jordy had always been distracted by the nose hairs that crawled a good quarter inch from his nostrils.
“I want to buy the painting of the lady.”
Marx sat down. “I bet you do. Everybody wants that picture. Have that to keep you company at nights, no reason to come to Tobe’s for
