Brand 5

by Neil Hunter

  Brand, unmoved, watched this activity. He felt oddly detached. His only concern was over the three men he was seeking. The feeling was stronger in him now than it had ever been before. It told him they were nearby. All he had to do was wait for them. And he could do that. For as long as he needed to.

  He caught a scent of perfume. It was strong. Like the smell of flowers on a hot day. He glanced up as the girl wearing the scent nudged his table with slim hips. Large dark eyes regarded him insolently, a faint smile lingering around the corners of her full, blood red lips. She flicked her lovely head, causing her long jet-black hair to shimmer. Despite himself Brand couldn’t help noticing how beautiful she was. The girl seemed to sense his awareness and she gave a soft laugh, leaning against the table. The action pulled her thin skirt tightly against the flesh of her strong, sleek thighs.

  ‘You seem lonely, senor. Perhaps you need company.’ Her voice was soft and delightfully accented.

  Brand stared at her, expressionless, yet his resolve to be left alone was weakened by this luscious Mexican beauty. Young as he was he had already found he possessed a personality that seemed destined to respond to the female of the species regardless of his own needs. He realized it could be a dangerous habit to foster. Distraction in the form of a beautiful woman could become fatal. On the other hand he was unable to completely ignore the closeness of this brown-skinned temptress.

  ‘May I sit with you?’ The girl had leaned further across the table. The thin blouse she wore well off her smooth shoulders gaped wide at the top and her full, dark nippled breasts were tantalizingly exposed.

  Brand hooked an empty chair with his foot and drew it close to her. The girl smiled, showing small, even white teeth as she sat down, sliding the chair even closer.

  ‘Have you friends in Tucson, senor?’ she asked.

  ‘Why?’

  The girl’s eyes sparkled. ‘I have seen you sitting here all evening. You speak to no one. Join with no one. Yet you watch everything. So I think maybe you wait for someone who does not come. I think, Lita, go and sit with this lonely one. Talk with him and make him smile. Do you smile?’

  ‘Been known.’

  ‘Bueno! Then perhaps you will smile for Lita before the night is over.’

  The Mexican who had served Brand’s food appeared and cleared the table. He glanced at Lita, then across at Brand.

  ‘Senor?

  Brand dropped some coins on the table. ‘Tequila’

  The Mexican scooped up the money and left.

  ‘I like tequila,’ Lita said engagingly.

  ‘Kind of figured you would,’ Brand said without looking at her.

  ‘It gives me a warm feeling inside. Do you know what I mean, senor?’

  Brand didn’t answer. There was little need. From what he had already seen of Lita she wouldn’t require any artificial means to warm her up.

  Undeterred by his silence Lita chattered on, and when the drink arrived she quickly filled two glasses, sliding one over to Brand.

  ‘To a long and healthy life, senor,’ she said.

  Brand found her sentiments had a grim appeal under his present circumstances, and despite himself he allowed a thin smile to edge his mouth.

  ‘Did I not say I would make you smile?’ Lita laughed. She drained her glass and quickly refilled it. ‘You have not touched yours. You are a strange hombre. What is it you are looking for?’

  ‘Maybe I’m looking for a prettier girl to sit with. One who doesn’t chatter so much.’

  Lita’s dark eyes flashed with anger. ‘It is not possible. There is no one in Tucson prettier than Lita Montoya.’ She slumped back in her seat, breasts heaving in agitation. Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Do I really chatter so much?’

  Brand didn’t answer. His gaze had picked up on someone across the saloon. He stiffened, his hand reaching for the rifle at his side. There was a cold hand clutching at his gut as he shoved to his feet, knocking over his chair. A rising anger threatened to overwhelm him.

  ‘What is it, hombre?’ Lita asked.

  ‘Can’t you see him?’ Brand asked as he moved away from the table, the sweep of his arm knocking over the liquor bottle.

  Behind him Lita rose to her own feet, fear showing in her eyes. ‘Who, senor, who?’

  Brand was already crossing the saloon, his ears closed to Lita’s question. Even if he had heard it wouldn’t have stopped him. Only one thing mattered now. To get to the man he’d spotted. The man he had recognized the moment he had stepped inside the saloon, pausing to look over the assembled crowd.

  Del Cooper!

  One of the three he was after.

  There was no mistaking Cooper’s broad, stocky figure, even across the wide smoke filled room. He looked just the same as he had the last time Brand had seen him. That had been the morning of the Comanche raid. Cooper was even wearing the same faded red shirt and black vest.

  Pushing his way through the jostling crowd Brand tried to keep Cooper in sight. The man seemed to be looking for someone. More than once his gaze seemed to settle on Brand, but if that was true Cooper failed to recognize him.

  And then, as quickly as he had appeared, Cooper turned on his heel and stepped outside again.

  Brand reached the door, rushing outside. The Henry was cocked and ready. Brand himself was tense, his nerves as taut as strung barbed wire.

  It was already starting to get dark. The light still held sway but the shadows were lengthening.

  Brand paused on the street, searching for his man.

  Then he saw him. Cooper was on the far side of the street, heading for the busy part of town. Brand broke into a run. He didn’t want Cooper to vanish in the crowds. Not now that he’d found him.

  Cooper abruptly turned into an alley between a hardware store and an empty building.

  Brand reached the alley and plunged in without hesitation. He ran on for yards before he realized Cooper wasn’t ahead of him. He stopped running, turning on his heels. His anger was a red mist shimmering in front of his eyes. He felt weakened by it. Almost physically sick.

  ‘Cooper! Show yourself, you miserable yellow bastard! It’s me. Jason Brand. No more damn running!’

  Brand’s words bounced off the walls of the alley.

  ‘Where are you, Cooper?’

  He heard a soft sound behind him. Brand whirled, and as he did something smashed down across his hands. Pain flared and the Henry slipped from his numb fingers.

  ‘Here I am, boy.’

  The voice was Cooper’s.

  ‘Damn you . . . !’ Brand screamed and hurled himself at the shadowy figure.

  There was more movement around him. Dark shapes that closed in on him. Hands reached out and grabbed him, yanking him away from Del Cooper. He was slammed bodily against the wall of the empty building, the breath pushed from his lungs. A hard fist smashed into his stomach and pain exploded inside him. Cruel fingers caught his hair, pulling his head back. For a moment Brand stared straight into Cooper’s wild eyes. Then a heavy fist sledged a stunning blow to his jaw and Brand’s head rocked, blood bursting from torn lips. Another punch ripped a bloody gash in one cheek, yet another split the flesh above his left eye, blinding him with streams of hot blood. Brand struggled against the hands that held him, but they were too strong. The unceasing barrage of brutal blows swiftly weakened him, and he could feel his strength draining away. If his tormentors hadn’t been holding him upright he would have fallen.

  He never knew exactly when the beating stopped. The pain was too great for anything to penetrate. Even so he was able to hear a voice, coming from a great distance. Brand concentrated on the voice — it was his only contact with reality in a world of terrible pain and sickness.

  ‘You hear me, boy?’

  It was Del Cooper’s voice.

  ‘If you do then listen good and learn something to your advantage.’

  Brand tried to focus with one eye. He finally made out the blurred outline of Cooper’s face.

  ‘Get the
hell out of town, boy. Figure yourself lucky Sam and Joe weren’t here, else you’d be dead by now. Quit now or next time you’ll die. I ain’t got nothin’ personal agin’ you, boy, but damned if I expect to have you follow me the rest of my life. Jesus, kid, did you really expect us to stay and help your pappy fight off those Comanches? Hell, we all goin’ to die some day, but I damned sure wasn’t going to let it be for some raggedy ass cow outfit. That was your pappy’s right. Not mine. So don’t come lookin’ to fill my grave. I ain’t ready fo’ it yet.’

  ‘You let them all be die,’ Brand mumbled through swollen lips.

  Cooper laughed harshly. ‘We figured you was dead too. When I heard some kid was lookin’ for us I never even give you a thought. Not until I got a look at you earlier. Tell it true, boy, you showed guts. Way you’re actin’ they’ll be spillin’ all over the ground if you brace Joe and Sam. They been killin’ longer than I can remember, and they are horseshit mean and sneaky to boot. Take heed, boy, else next time you walk out shootin’ and saying a prayer.’

  Hands were removed and Brand pitched face down in the dirt. It became very quiet in the alley. Brand lay where he was for a long time, not even thinking about trying to move. When he finally did make an attempt the pain reared up inside, forcing a moan from his crushed lips. He managed to sit up, flopping back against the adobe wall, his fingers clawing at the rough surface, leaving dark streaks of blood wherever they touched.

  He slipped down the wall and lay on his side, his face pressed into the dirt. In the last few seconds before he blacked out he made a conscious decision to take Del Cooper’s advice.

  The next time he did find any of the three he wouldn’t hesitate.

  He would do what Del Cooper should have done when he had spotted Brand.

  He would shoot on sight — and shoot to kill!

  Chapter Eleven

  It was two days before Brand could move without severe pain wracking his body.

  It hurt to breathe. It hurt to even think about breathing. Every intake of air caused savage bursts of agony to spear deep into his chest.

  For the first day he could only see out of one eye. The other was swollen shut, and the side of his face was twice its normal size. His lips were torn and bloody. His upper body was a mass of ugly bruises that changed color with each passing day.

  Brand knew he was lucky to be alive. He also accepted that he’d been a damn fool to make such a stupid play for Cooper. All he’d done was to walk into the man’s trap. And he could have ended up dead. The thought stayed with him, and he put down his survival to Cooper’s own act of stupidity. The man had drawn back from killing Brand — and for that he would pay dearly. It made no difference to Brand that Cooper had allowed him to live. Cooper had made his own choice and that was that. The next time round Brand wouldn’t let sentiment cloud his judgment.

  When his senses cleared enough for him to take stock of his surroundings Brand realized he had at least gained something from his encounter with Del Cooper.

  He was in a bed. The bed was in a small, one roomed adobe. Though it was small it was surprisingly neat and clean. There was even a fire burning in the open hearth, with a pot suspended over the flames. The smell of coffee filled the room.

  There was another scent he recognized. The musky odor of a familiar, flowery perfume.

  Lita!

  He didn’t know until later that she had followed him when he had trailed Cooper. Although she had lost sight of him at first she had been attracted by the sounds coming from the alley. By the time she had found Brand it was all over. But she had recognized Cooper and the men with him. She had waited until they left, and had then gone to find Brand. Somehow she had got him on his feet and had brought him to her adobe, taking the long way round so no one would see them. When she had Brand inside, with the door locked, she had stripped and bathed him, tending to his battered body the best she knew how.

  On the morning of the fourth day Brand was able to sit up. He was still sore and stiff. The slightest move was an effort. But he could at least see now and some of the swellings had reduced.

  He watched Lita as she heated coffee and fried bacon in a small fry pan. It had been the sound of her movement that had woken him. For a short time he felt almost at peace with the world.

  It was a feeling that wouldn’t last so he enjoyed it while it did.

  Lita turned from the fire, smiling when she saw he was sitting up.

  ‘Como vamos de salud?’ she asked.

  How are we today?

  Brand didn’t answer. She could tell how he was by the fact he had sat up himself. He was content to watch her move around the hut. Lita was clad in a thin cotton wrap that revealed as much of her as it covered. It clung to the slim curves of her sleek brown body as she moved, being prone to drift open and reveal tantalizing glimpse of her firm breasts and long, supple thighs.

  She brought him a plate of bacon and fresh bread. Sitting on the edge of the bed she thrust the plate at him.

  ‘Eat!’ she ordered. ‘Before those wandering eyes of yours wear you out again.’

  Brand managed a lopsided smile, conscious of a stirring in his loins.

  ‘Can’t blame me if there’s plenty to look at.’

  Lita pursed her soft lips, tossing back her mane of thick dark hair. ‘I think maybe you are getting better too quickly, hombre’

  There was a warmth behind her words he found disturbing.

  ‘I have a good nurse.’

  ‘Eat your food,’ Lita said, throaty laughter in her voice.

  He did as she asked, still watching as she returned to the fire and poured him a mug of coffee.

  ‘Why did they beat you?’ It was the first time she had mentioned the incident.

  Brand took the coffee. It was strong and had a rich flavor. ‘They figured they had good reason.’

  ‘I am listening.’

  Brand recounted the horror of the Comanche raid and the events that had followed.

  ‘Por dios!’ Lita shook her head. ‘I know these men, Brand, and they are very bad hombres’

  A bullet will kill them just the same.’

  Lita studied him, her smooth brow furrowing. ‘If you must go after them do not let anger blind you. Those three are killers. They have cold hearts.’

  Brand handed her the empty coffee mug. ‘Any more?’

  She snatched the mug out of his hand. ‘You will not listen to Lita! You see only those three! Men to kill! Maybe you also have a cold heart.’

  She turned away from him, anger in her eyes. Brand reached for her, attempting to pull her back. The coffee mug slipped from her fingers and shattered on the hard floor.

  ‘See what you have done!’

  Her anger ebbed as he pulled her close, kissing her and tasting the sweetness of her soft red mouth. His hands stroked the wrap from her smooth shoulders, pushing it down her arms.

  ‘Hey, hombre,’ she murmured, ‘are you not a sick man?’

  ‘Not as sick as you think.’

  Lita raised her dark eyes to him. She let the wrap slip to the floor, then reached down to draw the thin blanket from his body. For a moment she gazed down at him, then lowered herself against him. She touched him, caressed him, and felt his body lift against her. A soft gasp escaped from her lips as Brand cupped the firm mounds of her naked breasts, feeling the nipples rise. Lita’s breath was warm and ragged against the side of his face as she curved herself around him, arms and legs entwining with his. With a gentle twist she rolled them across the bed until she was lying under Brand. As he stared down at her he saw a faint smile touch her lips.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ he asked.

  Lita stared into his eyes. ‘Before I only thought it, but now I know.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Just that you are muy hombre!’

  ‘Gracias’

  She shrugged. ‘De nada.’

  As he lowered himself onto her Brand hoped that her appraisal of him proved to be true. If it didn’t he would have
no one to blame but himself.

  Lita’s adobe lay on the outskirts of town. During the time he stayed there Brand saw no one except the Mexican girl. After the first few days Lita returned to her job at Molly’s Place, leaving Brand alone to rest.

  And to brood!

  He found he was still plagued with thoughts of the three.

  Cooper

  Hatch.

  Preedy.

  Was Del Cooper still in Tucson? Or had he moved on to rejoin Hatch and Preedy? Brand needed to know. He had to know. The beating he had suffered had made him even more determined to follow the trio and settle with them. He knew he couldn’t undertake that yet. He needed time to regain his former strength. To fully recover from Cooper’s attack. So he spent the time exercising, taking longer each day. He spent hours cleaning and checking his weapons. Loading the guns and then taking the bullets out and doing it again. Something nagged at the back of his mind during those long hours. It was a curiosity about the Henry rifle he’d taken from the Comanches. Where had the Indians got their hands on new rifles? It was something else to follow up after he’d settled with Cooper and company.