Range War (9781101559215) (10 page)

Constanza moved between them and placed a hand on Carlos' chest. “Let your grandfather handle this, for now. The cowboy did not come all this way just to return the body.”

“No, ma'am,” Shorty said. “I surely didn't. Mr. Trask sent me with a message.”

“Your employer?” Porfiro said. “He has come at last?”

Shorty nodded. “And he aims to set things right. He sent the body as a token of good will, as he called it. And he wants me to extend an invite to him.” Shorty pointed at Fargo. “He'd like for you to come for supper. About sundown will do.”

Fargo was as surprised as the sheepherders. “Why me?”

“We told him how you took their side. He wants to make everything plain to you and you can make it plain to these sheepers.”

“Why not just invite some of them?”

“Mr. Trask wants you. What do I tell him? Will you be there or not?”

Before Fargo could answer, Porfiro turned to him.

“We would be grateful if you went on our behalf. If there is a chance we can work out our differences, we must try.”

“I only stuck around to hunt the Hound,” Fargo said. And to make love to Delicia, but he kept that to himself.

“That damn thing killed six more of our cows last night,” Shorty remarked.

“What?” Porfiro was startled. “It killed over fifty of our sheep just yesterday.”

“Fifty?” Shorty cocked his head. “For real?”

“He's telling the truth,” Fargo confirmed.

“Well, now. This will interest Mr. Trask. It can't hardly be your critter if it's killin' your woollies.” Shorty raised his reins. “Will you come or not?”

“I'll be there,” Fargo said.

Shorty grunted and rode off.

“No,” Carlos snarled, and tried to raise his rifle but Constanza gripped the barrel and shook her head.

“Now is not the time.”

Porfiro was smiling. “I am encouraged. It was considerate of this Trask to give us Alejandro so we can bury him. Perhaps he is not the heartless brute some of us believed him to be.”

“Don't count your chickens before they're hatched,” Fargo said.

“Chickens, senor? We raise sheep.”

“It's a saying.” Fargo didn't elaborate. He was watching Shorty, and wondering.

Delicia had been quiet the whole time but now she stepped forward and announced, “I am going for a ride. Would someone like to go with me?” She looked at Fargo.

“I would,” Lorenzo offered.

“I suppose I could go,” Carlos said, not sounding happy about the idea.

Some of the other young men smiled hopefully.

“How about you, senor?” Delicia bluntly asked Fargo.

“Where are you riding to?”

“To check on the sheep,” Delicia said.

“That is man's work,” Carlos told her.

Delicia ignored him. “Will you come or not? If we find sign of the beast, you are the best tracker. And you did say it is why you have stuck around.”

“You made up my mind. I'll tag along.”

“I thought you might,” Delicia said.

She led him to the horse string, her backside, Fargo thought, swaying more than was usual. As they were throwing their saddles on she looked over her sorrel at him and said quietly, “There is another reason I asked you to come. Can you guess what it is?”

“Does it involve you naked?”

Delicia grinned. “It could.”

They rode to the north, into the forest and up several slopes to a patch of woods with a clearing in the middle.

Delicia drew rein and slid down. She stretched, her bosom outlined against her dress, and bestowed a sultry smile. “Are you pleased?”

“Lorenzo and some of the others will be hankering to shoot me,” Fargo said.

“I'm a grown woman, senor. I can be with who I want. They have no say.”

“You're also the prettiest woman in the whole camp,” Fargo said. “You can't hardly blame them for wanting to stake a claim.”

“I am not their property,” Delicia said, and brightened.

“Am I really the prettiest? You did not say that just to flatter me?”

“The prettiest by far.” Fargo led their horses to a tree and tied them. He peered down the mountain but didn't see anyone on their back trail. He yanked the Henry from the saddle scabbard anyway. When he returned to the middle of the clearing, she was sitting with her legs out and her arms propped behind her.

“Have a seat, handsome one,” Delicia said, patting the ground beside her.

“Don't mind if I do.” Fargo sat and leaned his own arms back. He was in no hurry.

“What do you think this Trask is up to?”

“Who knows?” Fargo touched her leg and smiled. “I thought you invited me up here for something besides more talk.”

“I did, but I am worried,” Delicia said. “It was noble of you to agree to go on our behalf. You can find out how many men he has with him, and how many guns.”

“They're Texans,” Fargo said.

“What does that mean?”

“They'll all have guns. They may not use them all that well but they'll have them.”

“Not use them well?” Delicia said skeptically.

“Few cowpokes are gun hands,” Fargo explained. “They shoot snakes and such, and raise hell when they go into a town on a spree. But they don't practice a lot, and most are only fair shots, at best.”

“So you are saying we have little to fear?”

“I didn't say that at all,” Fargo said to set her straight. “I don't know how many hands Trask brought, but twenty or thirty cowboys with guns is a hell of a lot more than five or six sheepherders with guns.”

Delicia bit her lower lip. “I hope you can convince this Trask to be reasonable.”

“When it comes to their cows, ranchers are downright touchy,” Fargo enlightened her. “If he has his sights set on Hermanos Valley, I can talk myself blue in the face and he won't listen.”

Delicia sighed. “Between the cowboys and the Hound, our lives have become a nightmare.”

Fargo didn't tell her that he expected it to get a lot worse before it got better.

“Four of us have died. And so many sheep. And our dogs before that,” Delicia said sadly.

Fargo looked up. “Dogs?”

“Sheepherders always have dogs, senor. We had six of the finest. They were the first things the Hound killed.”

“No one mentioned them before.”

“It didn't come up. When they disappeared we thought maybe a mountain lion was to blame. Then we heard the howls and realized it was something else.”

“I wish someone had told me this.”

“That is another reason my father and mother left. To bring back new dogs. If they can find some that can be trained, that is.”

Fargo mulled this latest revelation. It strengthened the hunch he had. Proving it would take some doing, though. He realized Delicia had gone on and focused on her.

“. . . can't use just any dog. It is best if they are bred to the wool, as we like to say. Unfortunately, good sheepdogs are hard to find.”

“Enough about dogs,” Fargo said, and traced a finger from her shoulder to her elbow.

“Typical man,” Delicia said. “Always with one thing on your mind.”

“Whiskey?”

Delicia laughed. “I would love to spend a night in town with you. Any town. I would wear the best dress I have, and we could dine, and dance, and have a wonderful time.”

“We can have a wonderful time right here.”

“You have no romance, senor,” Delicia said, but not unkindly.

“I could go pick some flowers if it will put you in the mood.”

“The thing that will put me in the mood,” Delicia said, “is if you ravish me.”

“That I can do,” Fargo said.

Fargo kissed her. Delicia's mouth parted and her tongue met his. After a while he put his arm around her and lowered her onto her back. Stretching out, he pressed his chest to hers and kissed and licked her throat and ears. She cooed softly.

Removing his hat, she ran her fingers through his hair and over his shoulders.

Fargo covered her left breast with his hand and squeezed. Delicia wriggled, nipped his earlobe, arched. He felt her nipple harden under his palm. She raised her right thigh and rubbed it against his leg.

Fargo was going to cup her bottom but she suddenly pushed him onto his back and slid on top of him. Breathing into his ear, she grinned and said huskily, “Relax and enjoy.”

Delicia lavished wet kisses on his lips and cheeks and neck while rubbing her body against his. Her mouth, her body, were hotter by the moment.

Fargo felt a tight sensation as his bulge tried to burst from his pants.

Delicia felt it, too. Grinning, she said, “What do we have here?” and placed her hand on his manhood.

A constriction formed in Fargo's throat. He had to will himself not to explode as she rubbed up and down in languid motion. Her hair fell over his face. Moving it aside, he pressed his mouth to hers. She practically devoured him.

Her hips ground light and easy to heighten their pleasure. When he cupped her bottom and dug his nails into her backside, she gasped and rubbed her nether mound harder on his pole.

Fargo hiked at her dress. It took some doing. She had to rise up for him to pull it up around her waist. Once he did, he ran his hand down one inner thigh and up the other. Her skin rippled to his touch.

Covering Delicia's bush with his palm, Fargo ran a finger along her moist slit. She shivered deliciously. He parted her lips and moved his fingertip in small circles over her tiny knob and she raised her face to the sky and opened her mouth wide but didn't utter a sound.

Fargo lost all sense of time. There was her body, and his, and their rising need. When he finally entered her, Delicia clung to him and whispered his name. When he thrust, ever harder, her eyes grew wide and her mouth parted and she moaned deep in her throat. When he gripped her hips and imitated a steam engine piston, she matched him, stroke for stroke.

It was Delicia who gushed first. For a brief moment she was completely still, then she went into a frenzy of release, her pelvis churning, her breasts heaving. She rammed against him so hard, it was a wonder she didn't break him in half. She came and she came, and when she was spent, when she lay weak and panting, it was his turn. He rammed into her with renewed vigor until he, too, exploded with a violence that lifted both of them off the ground.

Afterward, Delicia lay with her cheek on his shoulder, her fingers stroking his hair, her eyes closed and her beautiful face composed in the contentment of sweet release.

“That was nice,” she said dreamily.

“Could have been better,” Fargo teased, and earned a light smack on the arm.

“I will miss you when you go,” Delicia said.

“Don't.”

“I'm sorry, but I will. Any woman would not mind having you for her own.”

“I'm not ready to be tied down, and I never gave you the idea I was.”

“I know, but I am starting to have feelings for you. Strong feelings.”

“I don't want you shedding tears on my account,” Fargo warned her.

“I can't help myself,” Delicia said. “I'm a woman.”

Fargo was uncomfortable talking about it and glad when she fell silent. He closed his eyes and let himself drift and he was almost asleep when a whinny from the Ovaro snapped him awake. He raised his head.

“What is it?” Delicia dreamily asked.

Fargo wasn't sure. The stallion was staring off into the woods with its ear pricked. Something was out there, but it could be anything—a wolf, a bobcat, a bear. Or the mysterious Hound. “Let me up.”

Delicia raised her head. “Is there danger?”

Sliding out from under her, Fargo put himself together. He strapped on his gun belt, picked up the Henry, and stood. “Stay here.”

He moved to the west edge of the clearing. Shadows dappled the greenery. Somewhere a squirrel was chattering. A pair of hummingbirds flitted about, and in the distance he heard the rat-a-tat of a woodpecker. All perfectly normal, but the Ovaro never whinnied without cause.

Fargo stood there until Delicia impatiently called his name. He was turning to go back to her when a shadow low to the ground did something shadows shouldn't do—it moved. Jerking the Henry to his shoulder, he took a bead. Whatever it was, it slipped behind a thicket. He waited for it to reappear and was so intent on catching sight of it that he nearly jumped when a hand fell on his shoulder.

“What's out there?” Delicia whispered.

“I don't know yet.”

“I'll get the horses,” she offered.

Fargo covered the thicket. If it was the Hound, he might have time for only one shot before it reached them and he must make that shot count. He continued to cover it as he climbed on the Ovaro and as he rode toward it with Delicia behind him.

“Be careful, Skye.”

Fargo reined to the right to go around. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised that nothing was there. “Keep an eye out,” he said, and dismounted. A few bent blades of grass were all he found.

“It could have been anything,” Delicia said when he told her. Fargo climbed back on. “I suppose.”

“Something tells me that when the time comes, the beast will not be easy to kill,” Delicia remarked.

Something told Fargo she was right.

It delighted Delicia that there had not been any new attacks on the sheep. They were grazing or resting, oblivious to their peril.