Chapter 12
Posted: July 05, 2007 - 09:57:31 pm


After I left Feleena at Rosa's front door, I headed for home. It was almost five, so I didn't have time to stop by the saloon. Molly made a big to-do over my suit. When I explained why I was wearing it, she made an even bigger fuss.

"That was a wonderful thing for you to do for that poor woman. You are a fine man, Tyler McGuinn."

I told her it was the least I could do for the honor Anna showed me by letting me use her husband's saddle. I basked in Molly's praise, because her opinion of me counted a lot in my book. She told me I'd have to wait for her to reward me, because she had supper to finish cooking.

I went to my room to change and was back to the dining room at a quarter till six. As I hoped, Mister Gordon was already in the parlor. I sat down on the couch and quietly filled him in on my trip to the haberdasher in El Paso del Norte. Gordon also thought it odd that the man didn't say he wouldn't take my money because it might be counterfeit. To Gordon, it was an indication that the man at least knew something about the forgery ring, or might even be involved in it. While we were talking, I had a thought.

"I'm going down there tomorrow and have some business cards printed up. I'll keep my ears open at the printers. It seems to me that a printer's shop would be a logical place to check out."

Gordon agreed, he had visited all the printers on this side of the river all the way to Santa Fe, but had no jurisdiction in Mexico. With relations touchy between the two governments, he would have to have some compelling proof before he asked for help from the Federales.

I guess there is some reward for a good deed, or else the card gods were smiling on me Wednesday night, because I won a nice poke. I was already sixty dollars ahead for the week, including paying for my clothes and upgrading Melosa's accommodations at the stable.

It was costing me about half what I was paying for my own rent to board Melosa, but she was living the life of Riley the same as Liz's bay and Pen's big black stallion.

The first time I saw Pen perched up on that huge beast floored me. The damned thing was so big, it was a wonder Pen didn't need a ladder to help him mount up. But I'll give Pen credit, he was a superb horseman, and his stallion was fast as hell. Pen won some good money wagering on races with the local cowboys.

If Melosa felt intimidated by her upscale stable mates, she didn't show it, but she was always happy to see me. I made it a point to drop in on her about every day to give her a little treat or brush her. If I had even the slightest excuse, we went riding.

By now I had worked out what I thought was a pretty good routine for myself. I climbed out of bed at eight in the morning and had breakfast with Molly. From Molly's I went to Clem's. I had a bath every couple of days, a daily shave, and my hair trimmed once a week. Unless I had other business, I manned my office and did some of Pen's paperwork and banking from ten or ten-thirty until one or two. I was free all afternoon until dinner at six, so I usually slipped in a little siesta. After dinner, I worked at the cantina until it closed. Some nights that was as early as eleven and some it was as late as two in the morning before I came straggling home.

Thursday I received my first criminal case client. I was sitting in my office, when a deputy came in and handed me a note from the court clerk. The note directed me to go to the jail and interview one Pedro Ruiz, post haste. The sheriff's office and jail were located at the opposite end of the main street from the railroad station. I walked down there and met the County Sheriff for the first time.

The sheriff was a big, hard-eyed, tough looking man of about forty. His name was Mathew Faulkner. My Ty Ringo memories said he was typical of the lawmen who survived out here on the frontier. He looked me over thoroughly as I handed him the letter from the court. His gaze lingered on my pistol and holster. He finally turned his attention to the letter, reading the few lines quickly. When he finished the letter, he put it down and fixed me with that hawk like look again.

"I've had someone keeping an eye on you, ever since that shooting over at the Toro. I was right surprised to see you were a lawyer. Men that wear their gun the way you do usually have another line of work."

The sheriff's speech was just like the rest of him, gruff and blunt. I shrugged my shoulders and smiled slightly.

"Who knows better the need to protect yourself than a man who sees mostly people who broke the law? Besides, I'm not exactly setting the world on fire as a lawyer, so I am working for Mister Smythe until I get established."

The sheriff actually smiled at my explanation.

"I never thought of it quite that way," he said thoughtfully. "Anyway, your desperado is in cell three. He's a mean little cuss, took three deputies to haul him in. He's charged with assault, disturbing the peace, resisting arrest with violence and destruction of private property. You need to leave your pistol here before you go back."

I handed the sheriff my pistol and watched him lock it in his desk drawer, before I went back to meet my client.

The man in cell number three was a small, wiry vaquero with a scowl on his lumpy, beat-up face, and a shitty attitude.

"Wha chew wan, gringo?" he snarled in badly broken English.

"A little respect for starters," I answered in Spanish. "I am your abogado if you want one."

When he saw that we could speak together in Spanish, Pedro did want me to represent him - not that either of us thought it would do much good. By his own admission, he was guilty as hell of gross stupidity, as well as everything else he was charged with. His story was that, yes, he did it, but he had been provoked much beyond what a man of honor could tolerate.

According to Pedro, he was minding his own business, enjoying a shot of tequila and the company of sweet Rosalinda at the Dos Amigos Cantina, when three Yaquis came in, bragging what great cowboys they were. Now according to Pedro, everyone in Texas and Mexico knows that he is the best vaquero who ever mounted a horse, so he told the gringos that. One thing led to another, and Pedro was forced to defend his honor in front of the woman he loved. He was truly sorry about the deputies, but said when the bloodlust of his Aztec ancestors was upon him, he had difficulty distinguishing between friend and foe. As for biting off the ear of the loud mouthed cowboy, for that, he had no regrets.

"He wouldn't listen to the truth anyway," Pedro explained.

I asked Pedro a few questions and found out where he worked. I knew I couldn't get him out of this, but maybe I could mitigate some of the charges. Just before I left, Rosalinda came in to visit him. I did a double take at her, because Rosalinda was a big old gal. She was every bit as tall as me, and probably weighed at least two hundred and fifty solid pounds. She had breasts the size of beach balls and an ass to match. Pedro was maybe five foot two in his boots, and was lucky if he weighed one - twenty.

When Pedro explained who I was, she practically tackled me in a bone-crushing bear hug. She was crying crocodile tears, and wailing for me to save her man as if he were on the way to the gallows. I finally extracted myself from her python like arms and told her I would try my best. I asked her if she could fix it with the owner of the Dos Amigos to drop any charges they had against Pedro.

"Sí Señor Abogado," she said emphatically. "If that one-eyed pig refuses, I will crush his puny cajones like grapes."

That, I thought to myself, ought to take care of that. I bid Pedro and Rosalinda good day, and went back out to talk to the sheriff again. He handed me my pistol, as we discussed how badly he thought Pedro should be punished for scuffling with his deputies. After some jawing, he allowed that maybe a few days in jail would suffice, since his men had pretty much beat the crap out of Pedro with the axe handles they carried anyway. The assault was pretty much a wash according to the sheriff, because the three cowboys had hot-footed it out of town to catch a big cattle drive up in Odessa.

I left the sheriff's office feeling pretty good about Pedro's chances, now that he was down to facing just a disturbing the peace charge. I went back to my office and wrote up a plea for Pedro and hand carried it to the District Attorney over at the Courthouse. I was lucky enough to snag a few minutes of the DA's time. He looked at the original charges and my proposal cockeyed, until I filled him in. To my great relief, he signed off on the plea, and asked the clerk to put the case of El Paso County vs Pedro Diaz on tomorrow's docket.

I figured I had done Pedro about as much good as possible, so I headed back to my room for a well deserved siesta. I popped in to see Molly before going to my room, and was pleasantly surprised to see her sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and laughing with Anna Lopez. Both women looked up at me and smiled.

"We were just talking about you, Tyler," Molly said. "Your ears must be burning something fierce."

I kissed both women on the cheek and poured me a cup of coffee from Molly's seemingly endless pot. I sat down between them and told them about my first case. Anna spoke decent English, but I still had to back up and explain a couple of things in Spanish to her. Both women were hooting with laughter when I described my meeting Rosalinda.

We gabbed a few minutes, then Molly looked at the wall clock on her kitchen wall and jumped up. Molly was obsessed with time and had clocks in every room.

"Saints preserve us, look how late it is, and me needing baking powder from the mercantile. Anna, take our young hero to his room and show him what you brought," she said, as she grabbed her bonnet and parasol and flew out the door.

Anna stood up and picked up a set of black saddlebags.

"I have a few items here that will go with your new suit, me Charro, and these are for Melosa. Let's go to your room and I'll show you."

I held the door for her and walked her to my room as she held onto the saddlebags.

Once in my room, she set the bags on my little table and flipped open one of the flaps. She reached into the bag and pulled out a beautiful set of fancy silver spurs. The spurs were in the Mexican style, with thick heel bands and large nine-pointed rowels. The silver inlays on the spurs were intricate and silver 'jingle bobs' hung near the rowels. The bobs would make a jingling noise when the wearer's boot heel struck the ground. The spurs had finely tooled black leather straps with silver colored buckles.

Anna handed me the spurs and dug back into the bag. She next pulled out a black leather hatband decorated with small silver conchos.

"The spurs belonged to Fernando, but I bought you the hatband today from the bootmaker."

I hardly knew what to say, her continuing generosity simply amazed me. Dumbly, I handed her my hat so she could put the band on it. The supple leather slipped through the silk loops on either side of the hat perfectly. She tied a neat little knot in the back and handed me the hat to model for her. I put it on and tilted the brim down as I normally did to block the sun from my eyes. Anna nodded and smiled in approval.

"It will go perfectly with your new suit. Will you wear the suit on Sunday for me, Cariño? I want everyone to see you in it; you will break a lot of hearts."

I told her I would, and pulled her against me for a kiss. She surprised me by turning on those smoldering eyes right before our lips met. As we kissed, she kept pushing me backwards. When the bed hit me in the back of my knees, I fell back, pulling her with me. Anna seemed almost wild with need as she tore open my trousers and yanked them down to my knees. When I was exposed, she stood on the bed, pulled off her bloomers, and impaled herself on me in one long groaning push. She rode me hard and fast, until we both exploded, then she fell forward, panting, onto my chest.

We rested a minute or two, then stood on opposite sides of the bed and undressed. When she was naked, she unpinned the long braid that had been coiled on to her head in a bun. Anna knelt on the bed on all fours with her butt facing towards me. When I knee walked onto the bed behind her, she looked over her shoulder at me with that wild glint in her eyes.

"Take me hard Charro, make me scream," she hissed.

Yeah, Anna was kinky alright. I nodded and grabbed her hip with one hand and that waist length braid with the other. She dropped her upper body down onto the bed and raised her ass higher. Without using my hands, I lined myself up between her dark coral lips and powered forward, pulling back on her hair at the same time. Anna squealed a high pitched 'aieee' and clamped down on my dick with her inner muscles. When I thought she was at the pinnacle of her climax, I pulled out, swatted her on the ass with my open hand, and drove into her again.

Before you knew it, her hips were swishing and swirling in a crazy eccentric orbit around my plunging shaft, as she seemed to orgasm noisily about every ten strokes. All the friction she generated with her constant internal clenching put me over the edge in fewer than ten minutes. When I fell beside her on the bed, I felt as if I'd just spent twenty hours riding drag. Anna rolled towards me, put her head on my chest and I fell fast asleep.

I woke up about an hour later. Anna was sitting cross-legged on my bed, wearing her chemise and coiling her hair back on top of her head. Anna had amazing hair; it was as thick and glossy as her granddaughters'. You had to look at it closely to find the few strands of silver in it. When she saw I was awake, she gave me a slow smile as she deftly twisted the last of her bun in place.

We chatted for a couple of minutes as she dressed to leave. I thanked her again for the wonderful gifts and she thanked me for the loving. She told me how much she enjoyed meeting Molly and that the two of them would be visiting each other often. I liked that idea, because I thought both women would benefit from the friendship. Anna gave me a kiss and headed out about ten minutes later. I dragged myself out of bed, cleaned myself up and dressed for work.

I saw Agent Gordon before dinner, and explained to him that I didn't have a chance to go across the river to the printers because of Pedro Diaz, and that tomorrow was booked now too. I said I'd try to get over there Saturday morning.

I only played cards for a couple of hours that night, and then it was only to fill in at a table until more players arrived. Yet, even at that I won fifteen dollars. I spent most of my time in the dancehall side of the saloon, as a rowdy bunch of about a dozen railroad men were whooping it up over there. The men were mostly Irish immigrants who worked along side the Chinese laying tracks. They were a hard working, hard drinking lot, and were completely fascinated by the señoritas Pen had working for him. I swear I saw a couple of them go upstairs three different times with three different women.

I was surprised the roustabouts were so little trouble, considering how boisterous they were. That they were intent on having a good time drinking and spending time in the company of women was fine with me. They had money and weren't afraid to spend it, so it was going to be a good night for the Toro.

I was standing at the bar when this big muscular Mick came up for a beer. I had Tom the bartender make it on the house. After the man thanked me, I asked if he knew Burt Toliver, the man who owed Feleena money.

"Aye, Toliver it was who brought us all back to town for two days. We've been laying track for the last twenty days straight across some ugly desert. It was so hot, even them Chinamen Coolies were complaining."

So Toliver was back in town. I would make a point of looking him up tomorrow. I shouldn't have much trouble finding him, because Liz said that he shacked up with Lucetta in a room at the Gold Nugget, when he was in town.

Friday morning I was at the courthouse at ten with Pedro Diaz, waiting for his turn before Judge Howard. It was my first time seeing Howard in action, and I have to admit that I was impressed. Howard appeared to be a competent and efficient jurist. When the bailiff called Pedro's case, I walked him up to the defendant's table. We stood there quietly as Howard read the plea I wrote and the DA countersigned. He scribbled something on the agreement then looked up and spoke.

"I see that most of this matter has been resolved before you arrived today, that is a good thing. I have entered an order dropping all charges except the one count of disturbing the peace. Mister Diaz, how do you plead to that charge?"

I had briefed Pedro thoroughly while we were waiting, but he was still nervous as he stood up straighter and replied.

"Sorrowfully guilty, You Majesty," he stuttered.

A smile twitched at the corner of Howard's mouth as he slammed down his gavel.

"I accept your plea and sentence you to thirty days in jail or a fine of thirty dollars. You are also assessed five dollars for court costs and five dollars to pay your attorney. Can you pay your fine?"

I translated for Pedro and he turned and looked at Rosalinda who was sitting there in the gallery sobbing loudly. When she nodded her head, Pedro turned back to the bench and nodded his.

"Very good, see the clerk on your way out. Counsel for the Defense, a word with you please."

I approached the bench and Howard leaned forward.

"You did well for your first case Counselor. By doing all the leg work on this matter, you saved the court time and money. If you keep that up, you will have a bright future here."

I thanked the judge and hurried after Pedro and Rosalinda. I caught up with them at the clerk's office, just as Rosalinda was plunking down two gold double eagles on the clerk's desk. The clerk wrote her out a receipt and handed me five silver dollars for my fee.

I walked out of the courthouse with the happily mismatched couple. Pedro shook my hand and Rosalinda gave me another of her giant hugs. Then Pedro slapped Rosalinda on her double wide ass.

"Come, my little love dove, you have much to make up to me," Pedro said.

Rosalinda giggled like a school girl and grabbed his arm possessively.

"Yes my stallion," she simpered.
Joe J & Wet Dream-Girl
El Paso 13