My Wednesday morning started off as any other day, then turn to doo-doo as I sat in the barbers chair and Clem filled me in on the happenings from the night before.
"Your pal, George Howard has done it again," Clem said off-handedly.
News of George Howard was something I wanted to hear, so I asked Clem for the details.
"Seems George came back to town unexpectedly yesterday, and caught his pretty little señorita all cuddled up with some vaquero over at Rosa's last night. Word is that he beat them both damn near to death. Sheriff's over at the courthouse now, trying to get a warrant, but we all know how that's going to turn out."
The news parlayed by Clem made me so mad I almost blacked out. I leaped out of his chair, grabbed a towel to wipe my face and dashed headlong out of his shop. Old Clem was going to have a new tale to tell his next customer I reckoned.
I fast walked down to Rosa's and pounded on the door until a sleepy eyed young woman opened it a crack. When she saw it was me, she opened the door and pointed at the staircase.
"Second room on the right," was all she said.
I went up the stairs three at a time, found the right room and knocked lightly on the door. A muffled voice from within told me to go away. Well, that wasn't even an option, so I twisted the knob and pushed open the door with enough velocity to almost rip it from its hinges.
Feleena was lying propped up on some pillows as Rosa applied a cold rag to her bruised face. I walked over to the bed as Feleena and Rosa both looked relieved that it was me. I knelt down by the bed and looked at Feleena's face, my anger a seething cauldron of unvented spleen.
"How badly are you hurt?" I asked softly.
Feleena looked into my eyes and something in hers had changed. Gone was the hard appraising look she usually reserved for me. In its place was a vulnerability I'd never seen before.
"It is nothing serious, nothing broken, anyway. He mostly slapped me around while he was pummeling the cowboy I was with. Rosa finally made him leave by threatening him with a shotgun. When you burst through the door, we were scared it was him coming back to finish us both off as he threatened to do last night."
I nodded my head in understanding and turned my attention to Rosa.
"I do not believe Howard will show himself for a few days, his father will see to that. Just in case, though, I will ask the sheriff to station a deputy here for tonight. Tomorrow I will go out and deal with Howard myself."
Rosa thanked me, handed me the damp cloth and left the room. I took the chair Rosa vacated and gently brushed Feleena's hair back off her face. I almost fell off the chair when Feleena took my hand and kissed my palm.
"I have tried so very hard not to let you into my heart, Hombre, but you have made that thing very difficult. I thought Jorge was the answer to making me forget about you, but the more time I spent with him, the more I compared him to you. Last night I told him that he and I were through. That's when he went crazy and started beating me and the poor man who was sitting with me."
I sat with Feleena for another hour. During that hour, I told her about the way things were in my life right now, but how I still felt she should be part of it. It was a lot for a person with her ego to swallow, but to her credit, she didn't dismiss the idea outright. When I left, she begged me to be careful and not to trust George Howard even a little bit. She was, as my Abuela use to say, "Predicando al coro"... she was preaching to the choir.
I was considerably calmer as I walked the four blocks down to the sheriff's office. Matt Faulkner was there, sitting behind his desk scowling. I plopped down in his side chair and pulled out a cheroot for each of us from my vest pocket. The thin, smelly, cheap stogies came from Clem the barber. I sort of liked them because they had a surprisingly mild and sweet taste. Of course the women in my life didn't appreciate them or their stink even a little, so my opportunities to fire one up were limited.
I struck a sulfur match on the bottom of my chair and lit his cheroot, then lit mine. Neither of us said anything for a couple of minutes, as the blue smoke from the cigars wafted up towards the ceiling. Finally, Matt leaned back in his chair and gave a small sigh.
"No warrant, of course, Judge Howard almost laughed in my face when I asked for one. Still, if you go after him, it will have to be for justice and not vengeance, else wise you'll be the same as him," Faulkner said philosophically.
I nodded my agreement.
"That's why I'm here, Matt. I am going to execute the Federal warrant tomorrow morning and I need to raise a posse."
We jawboned a plan of sorts, shook hands and I headed off to find Belle. I didn't have a clue as to how she would take either piece of news I had to give her. I caught up with her at the El Paso Hotel and explained everything to her over lunch. She listened attentively and then confounded me with her reaction.
"We'll worry about Feleena later; right now you need to concentrate on George Howard. The only thing I want you to promise me is that you'll be careful. If that sorry snake in the grass even blinks, shoot him, no questions asked."
How could I not love a woman like that?
The jangling bells on top of my alarm clock woke me up the next morning at six-thirty. Before I could reach over and lock down the clapper, Belle mumbled something irritably and elbowed me in the side. Belle was not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination.
I throttled the clock, hopped out of bed and threw on a pair of my Levis. After a quick trip to the bathroom, I finished dressing, kissed snoozing Belle on the forehead and shot out the door. I stopped by the kitchen and choked down a couple of biscuits and a cup of coffee. Molly tisk-tisked about me eating and running, but she gave me a kiss and sent me on my way.
I was at the stables slinging my old saddle onto Melosa's back when two of the Sheriff's other auxiliary deputies walked in. None of the other auxiliaries wanted to ride with me when I went to the Lazy H to execute my warrant. As a federal officer, I could have compelled them to go with me, but I didn't want anyone with me who didn't want to be there.
I greeted the men and we shook hands, then I went back to cinching up Melosa's saddle. About five minutes later, Pedro Diaz and another vaquero joined us. Pedro's buddy was a good sized Navaho Indian named Homer Bearclaw. According to Pedro, Bearclaw was the best tracker and deadliest rifle shot in this part of the country. I told the big man that I appreciated having someone with those skills with us. And of course, I couldn't resist adding that it also made me feel better riding with the world's greatest vaquero.
Bearclaw just grunted, but Pedro replied that, "Yes, you are lucky indeed."
Right as we were mounting up to leave the stables, Matt Faulkner rode up. I cocked my eyebrows at him inquisitively and he shrugged his shoulders.
"I decided that weren't no warrant going to be served in my county unless I went along to see that it was done proper like."
I grinned at that, knowing it was just an excuse for him to be part of the posse.
It took us about an hour to cover the six miles out to the archway gate that announced we were at the Lazy H. The spread was so large, it took us another twenty minutes to reach the big ranch house complex. I stopped us on a small bluff about a quarter of a mile from the buildings and looked the place over. For a working ranch, the place was eerily quiet. That in itself was a tip off that something might be afoot. I asked Homer Bearclaw to cover us while we rode up to the hacienda. Homer nodded and pulled a Model 1876 Winchester .50 caliber lever action rifle out of his scabbard. I swear, the hole in the end of the barrel of that thing looked as big as a silver dollar.
I left one of the deputies with Homer to watch our backs and rode down to the house with the other three men. No one answered me when I hailed the house, but a minute later a man came out of the bunkhouse toting a shotgun. I wheeled Melosa sideways, pulled my right hand pistol and put two bullets in the ground next to the man's right foot. He dropped the shotgun as if it were a rattlesnake and threw his hands in the air.
"Don't shoot me mister," he pleaded.
Before I could reply, Homer's cannon roared behind us. By now, every one had their pistols drawn and were trying to keep control of their horses. I looked back up the hill and saw Homer point to the side of the bunkhouse with his rifle. Since Pedro was the closest to that side of the bunkhouse, I motioned him towards it with my pistol, while I eased over towards the other end of the building. I had both pistols out by now, and guided Melosa with my knees. Melosa sidestepped nicely as I kept my eyes and pistols pointed at the corner of the building.
I stopped Melosa when I saw the shadowed silhouette of a man just around the corner.
"You beside the building, drop your weapon and come out with your hands up, or prepare to eat lead," I hollered.
That line was straight out of the script from the Sagebrush Wild West Show, but it seemed to fit the moment. After a couple of seconds, a rifle flew out from the side of the building and landed in the dirt. I almost laughed as I saw the shadow of a man with a pistol standing right around the corner. I aimed about where I thought his knee was and put a bullet into the corner of the building. There was a yelp of pain and the shadow disappeared.
"The pistol too, you idiot," I yelled.
When the pistol landed in the dirt near the rifle, I dismounted and walked a wide arc until I could see around the corner. I motioned the man lying on the ground to get on his feet. He cautiously complied, still holding onto his wounded thigh. I had him limp out into the open, then sat him down while I checked his leg. The fellow had a nice grazing flesh wound on the inside of his right thigh, but it was nothing very serious. I finished fastening the manacles around his wrists, just as Pedro dragged a man's body from the other side of the building. The man was beyond dead, as Homer had removed most of his brains with one of those huge fifty caliber slugs.
It was a disappointment that the three men from the bunkhouse were the only people around. The upside of our visit, though, was the information the men gave me in exchange for my promise to forget they tried to kill me.
They told me that Georgie Boy Howard had high-tailed it to New Mexico when one of the auxiliary deputies informed him I was raising a posse against him. That little tidbit about one of his deputies informing Howard tightened Matt Faulkner's jaws like a bad case of Tetanus. I almost felt sorry for the deputy who blabbed, because Matt looked as if he had murder on his mind.
Further questioning of the two men left alive, revealed that Howard was with Clive Blevins, one of the two men who bushwhacked me two weeks ago and the person for whom I held a federal warrant. While I was disappointed that I didn't get the chance to confront Howard, his running was probably for the best. That was because leaving with Blevins made George Howard an accessory after the fact in the attempted murder of a Federal Marshal. I now had a legally legitimate reason to go after George Howard, his father be damned.
As we rode back to town, Matt Faulkner and I discussed what we were going to do next. We decided that my only real course of action had to be requesting a warrant for George's arrest from Marshall Cahill and the district court in Santa Fe. With a federal warrant hanging over his head, George would be a hunted man where ever he went. Matt suggested I ask Cahill to offer a reward for George, so the bounty hunters would go after him too.
"Anything we can do to make that son-of-a-bitch suffer would make me sleep better at night, I don't care if I have to put up the reward myself," Matt spat out angrily.
As soon as I settled up with the posse members, I rode over to Rosa's to give Feleena the news. I thought it would make her feel better to know that George Howard had skipped the state. Feleena was asleep when I got there, so I gave the news to Rosa then headed for the hotel, hoping to find Belle.
I caught up with Belle as she and Connie were putting fresh tablecloths on the tables in the piano bar and small dining room. They turned towards me when they heard the jingle bobs on my spurs, and their faces lit up when they saw it was me.
"How did it go, Marshal?" Belle asked.
When I filled her in on my morning's adventure, Belle shared my disappointment that George Howard had slipped away. I told her I was planning to ask Judge Gault for a warrant against Georgie Boy. Belle thought that was a good idea and volunteered to go to Santa Fe to pick it up for me. I was impressed as hell that Belle would do that for me, until she slipped and revealed her true motivation.
"I'll take Connie with me and we'll do some shopping while we're there," she bubbled excitedly.
My next stop was at the telegraph office, where I zipped a wire to Marshall Cahill, requesting a warrant for the arrest of George Howard for being an accessory in the attempted murder of a Federal Law Enforcement Officer. The Federal Statutes considered being an accessory just as serious as committing the crime. I also wrote that Belle would be there the next afternoon with the supporting documents. Knowing Belle was on her way should make both Cahill and Judge Gault happy as clams.
From the telegraph office, I moseyed over to the Toro to speak with Pen. I had in mind trying to talk him into letting the Happy Hombres work at the new place at least two or three days a week. I was all geared up for delivering an inspired sales pitch, but Pen just said for me to handle it. He said he'd be satisfied as long as he had some musicians so his dancers could work.
"A bunch of drunken cowboys don't care if it's the London Philharmonic or a deaf man with a kazoo, as long as they have a woman to hold," he said.
That made my day, because I figured Los Hombres had to know a boat load of musicians needing a gig. I'd simply have them put together another band for the Toro and move the Hombres to the gent's club.
It was just after twelve noon when I finished with Pen, so I hustled back to the hotel to take Belle and Connie to lunch. Belle had informed me when I saw them earlier that she had a surprise for me that she'd show me later that day. I was curious about that and looking forward to chow, because I was as hungry as a grizzly bear.
Lunch was even more pleasant than usual with Connie joining us. With the way that Belle and Connie got along, I suspected I'd be seeing a lot more of our little Indian Maiden in the future. After lunch, I found out exactly how prophetic that thought was.
When I finished stuffing my face, Belle took me by the hand and led me out through the double doors in the lobby that opened onto the courtyard. Once in the courtyard, she turned right and the three of us walked up to the door of the manager's apartment. Belle fished the key out of her magical purse without even rummaging for it. I was beyond ever being surprised again by anything she pulled out of that thing. With the key in her hand, she turned towards me.
"The girls and I have been decorating this apartment. I don't see us being here long, but we might as well be comfortable while we are in it," she said.
Belle unlocked the heavy oak door and I followed the two women inside. The living room wasn't that different than it had been, with the exception of the furniture being rearranged and heavy drapes covering the windows. It was surprisingly cool in the room though, thanks to the shade provided by the wide veranda that ran the length of the apartment and the eighteen inch thick adobe walls.
I spotted the changes in the bedroom right away. I mean Stevie Wonder couldn't have missed that the regular bed that was once in there had been replaced with one twice as big. The bed was at least seven feet long and eight feet wide. The two over stuffed chairs that once sat at one end of the fifteen by fifteen foot room had been replaced by a pair of large chifforobes and a small writing desk with a straight-backed chair.
Belle looked as proud as punch as I made a fuss over everything she'd done.
"I had the bed made for us, Dear Heart, and the mattress too. The bed is actually two beds bolted together and there are two mattresses pinned one to the other. Naomi made the sheets, pillow slips and duvet. I put the other bed in the small guestroom that will be Connie's if anyone asks."
As I was telling her how great I thought everything was, she smiled devilishly and grabbed my arm.
"Come on, Connie; help me get this big lug on the bed. We need to christen it and you before we go to Santa Fe."
I'd have thought that shy virginal Conchita Raphael would have been hesitant about doing as Belle suggested, but then I remembered I was notoriously stupid when it came to women. Connie jumped on me like Dick Butkus on a quarterback. I submitted gracefully to their assault and fell back on the bed, pulling them down with me.
Belle and I were professionals by now at double teaming another woman, and we had Connie naked and panting all over the bed in fewer than five minutes. I had honors between Connie's thighs, as Belle tried to keep her quiet. Connie might have been reticent all the rest of the time, but during sex she had to be the noisiest woman on the planet. To go with the yelling and screaming, Conchita broke out in some Comanche chants and war cries that would have brought the cavalry running, had Fort Bliss still been active. Belle finally shut her up some by the expedient of sitting on her face.
Thankfully, Connie's hymen had been sacrificed to bareback horse riding when she was a young girl, so I didn't have that to contend with now. I was, however, without any protection, as I had not planned on boffing some virgin Indian Princess that day. Belle solved that by grabbing her purse, pulling out a couple of Goodyear sheaths and tossing them to me. The Boy Scouts of America could have taken lessons from Belle when it came to being prepared. I vowed right then that I was going to take a peek into that bag one day. Who knows, I might find that Mickey Mantle baseball card I misplaced when I was ten.
Where was I? Oh yeah, so I slipped on a rubber, crawled between Connie's strong brown thighs and proceeded to dispense with that nasty unwanted virginity. Holy Mollie was she ever snug on the old pleasure pole! On top of being tight, she was the strongest and most athletic woman I'd ever been near. When her lithe legs came up and wrapped around me, it made one of Rosalinda's bear hugs pale by comparison. When she orgasmed, I think she cracked two of my ribs.
Belle egged Connie on by constantly telling her that I was probably making her pregnant as we made love. Connie had confided in Belle that she wanted lots of babies, so Belle used that as her hot button, not that Connie needed anything to make her more amorous.
When we finally staggered out of the apartment, it was almost five in the afternoon. I wondered how in the world I was going to make it through the night at work. Well, turns out I did make it, and strangely enough, I was smiling the whole evening.
Connie spent the night with us in my room at Molly's, and the following morning I put Belle and her on the train to Santa Fe. Belle gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek after I handed her up onto the train, but Connie, unhindered by Victorian mores, kissed me soundly.
I learned a lot about Connie during the last twenty-four hours, and
all of it was pretty amazing. Conchita Raphael was half Comanche like I
said before, but she was raised with her mother's tribe. Her father was
a Commenchero, a Mexican who traded with the Indians. I was to learn
that Connie could do anything I could on a horse, only she did it
better. It was the same shooting a rifle or field dressing game or
about a dozen other things, but that's a story for later...