by Elle Marlow
Blessedly, he broke the kiss, and pushed her away. But, he grabbed a hand, spinning her and then he slapped her hard on her ass. Sophia stumbled and then wiped at the blood that trickled from the corner of her mouth, her face burning red-hot from embarrassment. By now, the men had gathered around them and they all began to laugh at Crow’s treatment of her.
“Whore. Keep your hands off me. Do your duty and feed these men!” he shouted behind her.
Chapter Two
“Another death. These horses must have pulled this empty wagon all the way to Tucson on their own,” Gunther said, looking over at the tired animals with pity in his eyes.
Cooper Blackwater rubbed the back of his neck staring at the haggard draft team and the busted wagon in pure disbelief. He’d just returned from settling a skirmish between some miners down at Silverbell, and now this.
“The Hellfire gang is here and they don’t look to be leaving,” Gunther grumbled, straightening his hat. “A small group of riders and I happened to pass by them at Snake’s Pass. I shot two of them som’ bitches myself, not knowing who they were until I got a good look at the bodies. I wouldn’t have believed Comanche Crow would have brought his highway men this far out west, if I hadn’t seen it for myself.”
“You’re sure it was Comanche Crow’s men?” Cooper questioned. He already knew the answer, but he was tired from his long ride from Silverbell, and he held out hope that it wasn’t true.
“It was them. The two I shot had those deep scars carved into their faces. This wagon belonged to that lady who sells all that silver jewelry around town. God only knows what they’ve done to her. Makes me sick just thinkin’ about it.”
Cooper dropped his gaze, the gravity of this new development sinking in. “Carved faces? Yeah, that’s them alright. You’ve done well, Gunther. After you take care of those horses, take a break and go spend time with that new bride of yours.”
Gunther nodded, wiping away the sweat off his cheeks with the sleeve of his shirt and then he grasped a horse by his halter. “I need it, thank you. He looked skyward, and Cooper followed his gaze up toward the dark clouds building over the mountains. “It looks like the summer rains are here,” Gunther said, voicing both of their thoughts.
“It’s about time. This heat feels straight out of the devil’s mouth,” Cooper agreed.
“Speaking of the devil, that Crow went and got himself a bride.”
Cooper’s gaze snapped back to his deputy. “You’re kidding. A bride?”
“Yep, that Crow has got a woman with him. I only saw her for a second, but she’s a real pretty woman too.”
“A hostage?”
“I don’t think so. She was riding and shooting. It was the craziest thing I ever saw. She had all this hair flying behind her as she attempted to handle a gun and a horse at the same time. She looked green about shooting the gun though. I doubt she hit anything, but what hostage willingly rides with Crow?”
Cooper shook his head. “None that I know of. Go now, those horses look like they’re about to buckle at the knees.”
As the wagon pulled away, Cooper thought about the new problem at hand—and it was one mountain of a problem. He’d received a telegraph from Silver City that the gang had been spotted a few times riding along Cooke’s road, and then would disappear again in the landscape. He’d hoped the highway men would avoid a bigger town like Tucson, but here they were, right on his damned doorstep.
With Gunther as an eye-witness, he now he had proof that it was the Hellfire gang, and now he could take them dead or alive. Ruthless killers, Even the Apache have been known to run from the lot. He had reward posters of Comanche Crow and his fellow highwaymen posted inside his office. He’d spent hours staring at their grotesquely scarred faces. But, this was the first time he’d heard of a woman riding with them though. The idea of a woman taking part in the killings boggled his mind.
Cooper lit a cigar, watching a couple of kids roll a hoop down the road with a stick. Funny how life can be so normal inside the town and so damned dangerous outside of it.
Retreating to his desk, he sat in the chair thinking about his next move. Crow and his gang killed for whatever they could find of value—sometimes they’ve been known to kill just for the hell of it. A gambler turned outlaw running down stagecoaches throughout Texas, New Mexico and now the Arizona territory.
Cooper gazed over at the posters on the wall. Every attempt to arrest the bunch had failed so far, and he’d like to be the one to finally bring him in. But, he knew that if he went after that band without a plan, it would be as good as signing his own death warrant.
The walls inside his office darkened as the afternoon clouds rolled overhead like a bad omen. Cooper figured it was time to call it a day. But, not until he paid a visit to Maya Mercado to see how some horses he had up for sale were faring, and since she ran a brothel in Texas where Crow’s string of crimes began, maybe she could shed some light on Crow and this mystery woman that might be traveling with him.
Walking out to untie his horse from the hitching rail, the wind picked up enough that sand started stinging on the skin. The cooler air brought relief, but it also came with the nightly threat of torrential rain.
Hola, handsome stranger,” Maya greeted as he entered her cantina
“Hola,” Cooper returned, removing his hat as he helped himself to a seat at her bar. Maya’s Cantina and Stables sat on the banks of the Santa Cruz river and because of it, often buzzed from competing swarms of mosquitoes or flies. Maya didn’t seem to mind either, as she stood next to a large kettle propped over a fire.
“Prickly bloom,” she explained, holding up a ladle cradling a pink bud of a cactus. She was blanching the fruit to strain, and then harvest the juice to make her famous mescal drinks.
“Maya, there ain’t gonna be much of you left, if you keep cooking in this awful heat,” he told her. She waved a hand in the air to dismiss him. “And I might add, that your cantina and your stables might get washed away if these storms flood that river.”
“You’re a worry-wort. You’ve always been a worry-wort. My cantina has been here for years, the horses are fat as hogs and are still standing. What else brings you to the barrio?” she asked, peering into the pot.
“One, you’re scared of storms. And two, have you ever heard of a woman traveling with Comanche Crow?”
Maya forced her bent spine into a more upright position, scrunching her face from the pain it caused. “I only know of one woman. A real pretty woman that he won in a poker game. Ah, but that was months ago, and she was a delicate little thing. He’s killed her by now—or by god, she wishes she was dead.”
Cooper chewed on that. From Gunther’s perspective, neither seemed to be the case, but Gunther did mention she was pretty. It had to be the same woman.
“I don’t know about that. He’s made it to Tucson and he has a woman with him. She seems to be fine, and the whole rotten group is hiding out in those hills just west of town.”
Maya whistled long and low, shaking her head as she did it. “Crow is a bastardo loco. He was banished from his tribe for stealing a war pony. They sliced his face, and now he slices the faces of all the men who ride with him,” she said, as she left the pot to put a bottle of mescal on the bar. “He probably sliced her face if she rides with him. Loco,” she stressed again, while using a crooked finger to draw circles in the air by the side of her head.
“Drink?” she finally asked.
“Just a small one,” he told her.
“Hmph. I can’t never make any money off you, Cooper. Who drinks just a little bit of mescal? The day is done. It’s time to get the burrs out of your spine.”
“I’m still on duty,” he weakly argued.
“And when are you ever not on duty? Do you know what I think?”
“No, but I bet you’re going to tell me.”
“You need a woman. You should find yourself a boñita Señorita that will keep you off the streets and out of my hair. Maybe have yourself a fe
w little bebés.”
He smiled. Maya was an eccentric old character, but he’d grown soft spot for her. “I’m still in mourning over Adeline,” he explained, for what must have been the tenth time since he started visiting her cantina. Maya curled her nose as she vigorously shook her head. Thunder cracked overhead and rainwater started dripping through her thatched roof. Maya put a mug on the bar to catch the water.
“Mourning? Nah. Wasting your tears, is what you’re doing. Adeline died two years ago. That’s too long to live alone. Here, one more shot.”
Cooper winced at Maya’s observation. He missed his wife, but he had to admit, it was getting damned old going home to that house haunted by her ghost. Another crack of thunder, and this time he could see a bit of fear in the old lady’s eyes as she casted a worried glance at her roof. She cursed something in Spanish.
“Just one more,” he relented.
“Or two or three,” she said.
***
Sophia sat across the fire from Crow and wrapped the blanket even tighter around her shoulders. The normally warm summer storms brought on an unusual gust of cold, that soaked through to her bones. And, she couldn’t shake the dark feeling that something terrible was about to happen. Crow had spent the entire day brooding over the fact they’d failed to stop the two horses pulling the last wagon, and despite offering him his bottle of mash several times, he’d turned her down. The last of her attempts ended with him smacking the bottle out of her hand, shattering it to the ground.
She shivered. The rain flooded the camp, and the fire struggled to burn the dampened mesquite wood. She continued to watch the man from under her lashes trying not to panic. The only time Crow didn’t drink was when he was sick. He sure as hell wasn’t sick now, as he acted interested in the conversation being held by two of his men, but she couldn’t help but notice how he’d occasionally look over at her with heavy consideration. It didn’t take much imagination to know what he might be thinking, and her mind screamed out a warning that she’d better not to wait to do something before the unthinkable happened.
Crow patted the empty spot next to him, indicating that it was already too late. Sophia stared at him scrambling to figure out how to get out of sitting next to him. Crow’s brows formed a knot as he stopped the patting to wipe at his mouth.
“Is there a problem?”
“No,” she said, noticing the fire reflecting off his face, and accentuating his disfigurement. The vision it made, was merely a reflection of the evil on the inside.
“Then come over here,” he repeated, stronger.
Sophia stood, noticing the other men watched. Slowly, she made her way to Crow and then sat on the log. Only, she’d purposely kept some space between them, a fact he quickly remedied by roughly grasping her arm and pulling her right up against his side. “When I say sit with me, I mean sit with me,” he warned, his black eyes flashing. She nodded, and that seemed to satisfy him enough that he turned back to continue his conversation.
“There hasn’t been any sign of the law for two days. Maybe they have changed their route,” Crow said to Jorge, seated just to the left of him.
Jorge nodded. “But, by now, that deputy and his vigilantes have sent out a warning. Any stages of wealth will probably change routes,” Jorge pointed out. Crow threw a handful of dirt at the fire. “Other ways mean chance run-ins with the Apache—damned Apache. I should slaughter them, all of them.”
Sophia closed her eyes against his words. She’d ridden, just like Crow demanded, but she’d purposely rode far enough away during the brutal raid so she couldn’t see him kill. She’d shot her gun several times, but only to drown out the cries of death. What she couldn’t do, was ride away and never come back. She didn’t dare, because Crow or one of his men never removed their eyes off her. Even during the raid, she could feel Crow’s gaze burn a hole in her back. Maybe that’s why he scrutinized her so closely tonight, maybe he was angry that she avoided the raid.
Sophia shifted on the log, knowing her time was running out. How much longer could she get away with not sleeping with Crow and not killing for him?
Chapter Three
After the men finished talking and eating, Crow stood and reached down for her hand. He tugged and insisted that she’d follow him. He led her far from the eyes of his men, through a thick maze of rock and scrub brush.
The only light came from the moon that struggled to shine through the cloudy canopy overhead, while crickets, frogs and the occasional coyote howl added to Sophia’s anxiety. She still hid the Colt in her trousers, and the further Crow took her into the wilderness, the more her mind tried to reason that if she was going to shoot Crow, all this distance between them and the rest of the gang, might allow her a slim chance for escape.
He finally came to a stop on a hill and settled himself on a rock that protruded outward over the edge, like a pointed finger. Sophia’s eyes burned from the threat of tears as she lowered herself next to him. Out in the distance, lightning strobed across the valley below, intermittently brightening the Sonoran landscape. If she stared, she could see the faint lights of Tucson. Until now, she had no idea they were so close.
“Why are you shaking?” he asked, dragging her focus back on him.
“I-it rained, I’m cold.”
“It is hot. And the air is as thick as soup. You are not cold.”
“Yes, I am,” she lied. Every part of her quivered, her throat, her hands, her body, her mind. For the first night in all these many nights, Crow remained perfectly sober and she had no way of escaping anything he wanted.
“You are scared,” he announced, grasping a handful of her still damp hair, pulling her toward him. “Why are scared, Little One? Could it be you have been lying to me?”
“N-no…”
He yanked hard, and an involuntary yelp escaped her. “Have you been trying to kill me with the whiskey?”
“No,” she whispered.
He let go of her hair with a shove. “Liar,” he hissed. She almost lost her balance upon the rock.
“I watched you during the raid. You shot everywhere but at that woman. You hid behind a rock with your hands over your ears when her horses ran off. Instead of cowering, you should have been chasing them while we had our way with that bitch. You lie about everything you do.”
Sophia’s mind scrambled to find a way to appease him.
“I don’t want to kill, Crow. I don’t want to be anywhere around when you do those things,” she told him, allowing a little bit of honesty to expose, praying that he’d back off if he heard her admit to something truthful.
“There are only six of us left and barely any good horses. We all have to kill to survive,” he said, shifting his gaze back toward the valley.
Sophia slowly inched her hand along the rough surface of the rock until she had reached behind her enough to touch her finger tips to butt of the gun.
“I have something for you,” he offered.
She barely heard him, and could not see the details of his face, only the outline of his frame. She quickly thanked god for the fact that she wouldn’t have to see his eyes, as she wrapped her fingers around her gun.
Sophia pulled up on the handle, slowly.
“I said, I have something for you,” he repeated, as he held his hand out just inches from her face. In a glint of moonlight, she looked down to see two small objects resting in the palm of his hand. With him leaned into her, she had to let go of the gun.
His finger swiped at her temple, pulling back her hair. “Aren’t you going to thank me? These are earrings of turquoise and silver,” he said, clamping the earring on her lobe and then bent forward to cover her neck with kisses. “I took them off that woman. They were ugly on her, but they look beautiful on you,” he murmured against her skin.
She closed her eyes as she bit down on her lip to keep from crying out. Images of the poor woman and what Crow and his men must have put her through tore through her mind. Her skin crawled as Crow’s tongue flicked his tong
ue over her neck, lapping at it like a dog.
Then Crow sat up and did the same to the other side after he’d finished placing an earring on her other ear. His hand reached up to cusp a breast and then he wrapped her in a hug. Tears spilled from her eyes and she squirmed under Crow’s fingers. She prayed god would strike her with lightning before he touched her further.
The sound of an oxen bellowing, followed by wagon wheels pounding against the nearby rocky trail, suddenly permeated everything. Crow went still, cocking his head toward the sound. Before Sophia could make sense of anything, Crow had released her and was up on his feet, disappearing into the night. Stunned that he left her alone, she quickly reached for her Colt. It was gone. Crow must have grabbed it from behind her when he heard the wagon’s approach.
Sophia’s watery vision took in the lights of Tucson wondering if she should take this chance and make a run for it. A woman’s scream echoed off the rocks as the sound of a struggle ensued behind her. Sophia couldn’t see the how high this rock was over the ground below, but she stood and jumped.
Her ankle rolled under her weight as she landed on the dirt below. She sucked in a mouthful of air at the pain that shot up her leg. She started to move but a new cry, a cry of an infant held her in place.
A baby?
***
Sally Lantham held rosary beads in a white-knuckled grip while she rocked back and forth on the chair in front of his desk. “I don’t even know how I made it to Tucson. I guess I walked. But I can’t talk about what those heathens did to me!”
“Ma’am, please. You need justice for your husband,” Gunther pleaded. Cooper stood in the corner of his office, his stomach rolling at the woman’s condition. Her husband had been killed, she was badly beaten and robbed of all her valuables. And now she was claiming that an infant son was taken from her. He’d never hated a person in his life, but watching this woman break down in his office, something darker than hate burned within him for Comanche Crow.
