Read Online .45-Caliber Desperado by Peter Brandvold - Free Book Online

hang?”
    She smiled coquettishly, small white teeth flashing beneath her rich upper lip. “A woman must not give up her secrets.”
    Cuno frowned at her, puzzled.
    She relented. “Mateo paid off one of the guards to inform us of the happenings at the prison. Especially about what was happening with you. The man was paid well, and he spoke with two of Mateo’s men at a saloon in Limon nightly. We have been a few weeks setting it up.”
    â€œMy god . . .” Cuno stared at her, puzzled by all the work she and her brother had gone to in setting him free. They’d become lovers on the trail out of the Rawhides, but he’d had no idea she’d felt so strongly about him. He felt a little guilty that he hadn’t felt as strongly about her; but, after all, with the Utes hounding their trail, he hadn’t had much time for falling in love.
    She smiled at him, her brown eyes warm and inviting.
    Cuno felt his cheeks warm, still a little uncomfortable around females. He’d been married a very short time, and before that his experience had been limited by an innate bashfulness around members of the opposite sex.
    Changing the subject, he tried to whistle but because of his nose it came out low and stilted. “Well, I reckon that was about as close as I’ll ever cut it. I was beginning to feel the devil reaching up out of the burning pits of hell to tickle my bare feet.”
    Camilla got up from the tree and walked over to him. Her brown eyes bored lovingly into his, causing his cheeks to burn. “You would not have gone down there. Up there is where you belong.”
    With a gloved finger, she pointed toward the sky. “After all you did for me and the Trent girl and the Lassiter children. You are a good man, Cuno. My heart broke when you gave yourself up to that Sheriff Mason.” Slowly, keeping her eyes on his, she shook her head. “All so he would make sure we made it safely to the fort. You are a saint, I would say.”
    â€œFar from that. Any halfways decent soul would have done the same, especially if he was wounded and needed doctorin’ himself.”
    â€œThat is not true. Though I am only eighteen years old, I have seen much of this world, Cuno. It is a bad place, filled with bad men. But not you. You are a good man. And . . .” She let her voice trail off, wrinkling the skin above her nose as though not sure how to continue. “And . . . you must know how I fee—”
    She cut herself off, color rising in her cheeks. He was glad she’d stopped when she did, as he was also feeling snakes of nervous embarrassment coiling and uncoiling in his legs and shoulders.
    She dropped her eyes toward the ground then reached out for his hand. “Enough of that. I know what you must think of me . . . out here with my bandito brother. Half brother. Mateo’s mother was a Yaqui from southern Sonora. We will talk later. For now, let’s go eat. Knowing Mateo, he will want us to saddle up and ride soon.”
    â€œRide where?” Cuno asked the girl as she led him over to the fire. She was holding his hand. “You have any idea at all?”
    â€œNo. Like I said, only Mateo knows. He will probably tell us soon.”
    Several of Mateo’s men cast furtive, dark glances at the pair approaching the fire hand in hand. Obviously, several of the bunch wanted their leader’s comely sister for their own. Feelings of resentment toward Cuno were building. He could feel the animosity; apprehension plucked at his spine like a guitar string.
    He’d have to take care to never give these men his back, unless he wanted a knife in it.

7
    DEPUTY U.S. MARSHAL Spurr Morgan drew his buckskin to a halt in a chokecherry thicket near which a muddy creek trickled and shucked his 1866-model, brass-framed Winchester repeater from his saddle boot. Gently, he racked a round into the old but familiar weapon’s chamber, then lowered the oiled hammer to