slaughter, tearing it limb from limb. As the three dangerous men on their big horses circled the exposed, frightened, cringing girl crouching on the ground, Tucker saw the predatory glint in his friends’ eyes as lust burned in their loins and the smell of sexual heat filled the dusty air. He knew they were the coyotes, nothing more than the lowest varmints.
It had come to this, then.
They had fallen that far, sunk to their lowest, become animals.
“No,” Tucker mumbled first to himself, then repeated as an order he issued with quiet authority. “No, not like this, this ain’t what we are, boys.”
“Hey, honey, how ’bout you give my doorknob a little polish?” Bodie said, squeezing his crotch and making a move to unbutton his fly.
“Man has to relax.” Fix grinned.
The girl shut her eyes and dropped her gaze, then opened them with flint in her bold stare as she grabbed a knife from her belt and held it protectively as she rose to her feet, ready to fight. She turned in a full circle, then back again, facing the gunfighters who loomed over her on their horses, ready to cut them if they made a move.
A twinge of conscience stirred in Tucker’s heart. He felt sorry for the poor damn girl. This Mexican had pluck and smarts, and he understood the considerable tar it must have taken for a woman alone to have ridden out to save her village and stand toe to toe with hard-ass killers like the three of them were. He respected and liked her, right down to the ground.
“Shut up, boys, and step back,” said Tucker. “Ain’t no way to treat a lady. Let alone one who’s payin’ us.”
Fix and Bodie exchanged reluctant glances and nodded, following orders.
“Do what the man says, Bodie. Get her horse,” said Fix quietly.
The Swede nodded, trotting a few yards to where the riderless mustang stood casually grazing on a patch of mescal. He retrieved the dangling reins and led it right next to the girl.
Tucker kept his hands up, palms upraised to show he meant no harm, rode unthreateningly over with a clop of hooves, leaned down with a creak and clink of leather and stirrup and offered the girl a gloved hand to help her back into her saddle. The simple peasant considered him in surprise and confusion, naked fear and distrust in her gaze softening into raw relief as she slowly took his hand. Her knife remained in her other hand for a moment, then was returned to her belt as she let him grasp her small palm and tug her foot up into her stirrup and settle her back into the saddle of her horse. Now she was eye level with them, and Tucker held her gaze with gentlemanly grace. “We get it,” he said. “You dressed yourself up as a man ’cause you didn’t know the kind of men we were, and the kind of men you needed were the kind of men didn’t need to know what y’had under them clothes. What’s your name?”
“Pilar,” she said, no longer trying to disguise her voice, her natural timbre pretty and chimelike.
“Pretty name.”
Tucker grinned. She smiled, dropped her eyes, then raised them to meet his. “I am sorry. To deceive you. It is as you say.”
“Hell, this day is getting more damn interestin’ every minute. Never a dull moment, nossir,” Fix said.
“And daylight’s wasting if we’re making this town by noon,” said Bodie.
Tucker nodded. “Bodie’s right. Let’s ride.”
As Pilar led the way, riding out of earshot on her shaken horse, Tucker shot a fierce glance to his fellow gunfighters. “Let’s just get the silver, boys. Then we’ll fuck her and her sisters.”
“And her mother if’n she has a set of cans like that on her.” Bodie winked.
They half meant it.
Spurring their horses, the four horses and riders surged across the plain.
Tucker knew they were being followed.
He could smell them.
It wasn’t much to go on, just a wisp of dust behind them in the far distance, a faint metallic clink that could have been nothing at all somewhere way off. If
It had come to this, then.
They had fallen that far, sunk to their lowest, become animals.
“No,” Tucker mumbled first to himself, then repeated as an order he issued with quiet authority. “No, not like this, this ain’t what we are, boys.”
“Hey, honey, how ’bout you give my doorknob a little polish?” Bodie said, squeezing his crotch and making a move to unbutton his fly.
“Man has to relax.” Fix grinned.
The girl shut her eyes and dropped her gaze, then opened them with flint in her bold stare as she grabbed a knife from her belt and held it protectively as she rose to her feet, ready to fight. She turned in a full circle, then back again, facing the gunfighters who loomed over her on their horses, ready to cut them if they made a move.
A twinge of conscience stirred in Tucker’s heart. He felt sorry for the poor damn girl. This Mexican had pluck and smarts, and he understood the considerable tar it must have taken for a woman alone to have ridden out to save her village and stand toe to toe with hard-ass killers like the three of them were. He respected and liked her, right down to the ground.
“Shut up, boys, and step back,” said Tucker. “Ain’t no way to treat a lady. Let alone one who’s payin’ us.”
Fix and Bodie exchanged reluctant glances and nodded, following orders.
“Do what the man says, Bodie. Get her horse,” said Fix quietly.
The Swede nodded, trotting a few yards to where the riderless mustang stood casually grazing on a patch of mescal. He retrieved the dangling reins and led it right next to the girl.
Tucker kept his hands up, palms upraised to show he meant no harm, rode unthreateningly over with a clop of hooves, leaned down with a creak and clink of leather and stirrup and offered the girl a gloved hand to help her back into her saddle. The simple peasant considered him in surprise and confusion, naked fear and distrust in her gaze softening into raw relief as she slowly took his hand. Her knife remained in her other hand for a moment, then was returned to her belt as she let him grasp her small palm and tug her foot up into her stirrup and settle her back into the saddle of her horse. Now she was eye level with them, and Tucker held her gaze with gentlemanly grace. “We get it,” he said. “You dressed yourself up as a man ’cause you didn’t know the kind of men we were, and the kind of men you needed were the kind of men didn’t need to know what y’had under them clothes. What’s your name?”
“Pilar,” she said, no longer trying to disguise her voice, her natural timbre pretty and chimelike.
“Pretty name.”
Tucker grinned. She smiled, dropped her eyes, then raised them to meet his. “I am sorry. To deceive you. It is as you say.”
“Hell, this day is getting more damn interestin’ every minute. Never a dull moment, nossir,” Fix said.
“And daylight’s wasting if we’re making this town by noon,” said Bodie.
Tucker nodded. “Bodie’s right. Let’s ride.”
As Pilar led the way, riding out of earshot on her shaken horse, Tucker shot a fierce glance to his fellow gunfighters. “Let’s just get the silver, boys. Then we’ll fuck her and her sisters.”
“And her mother if’n she has a set of cans like that on her.” Bodie winked.
They half meant it.
Spurring their horses, the four horses and riders surged across the plain.
Tucker knew they were being followed.
He could smell them.
It wasn’t much to go on, just a wisp of dust behind them in the far distance, a faint metallic clink that could have been nothing at all somewhere way off. If
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