Lawman from Nogales (9781101544747) by Ralph W. Cotton

asked Defoe. “Did he have you dance naked on the backs of his hands too?”
    â€œI didn’t mean in that way,” Tereze said. “I meant the manner in which you speak French reminds me of him.” After a pause, she asked, “Is there anything else you want from me?”
    Defoe looked at the redness on the backs of his hands and rubbed them together, knowing they would bruise.
    â€œAll I want is to see someone kill this lawman,” he said bitterly. “But now he has left, so I am disappointed .”
    He stood with his tie loose and hanging on his chest, his hair disheveled, his shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest.
    â€œBut you are not disappointed in me?” she asked, pouting a little.
    â€œNo, no,” said Defoe, “that was good.” He rubbed his hands together more vigorously.
    â€œI can kill him for you,” Tereze suggested, taking a step closer to him from behind. “I could kill him in my own way . . . ,” she whispered, letting her words trail.
    â€œGo!” Defoe demanded, cutting her short. He pointed to the door. “If I want someone to stand on his hands, I will come get you.”
    â€œWhatever you say, Henri,” Tereze said with another casual shrug of her shoulder.

Chapter 7

    Sam and the young woman rode on well after the harsh sunlit terrain had succumbed to a purple blanketing darkness. Having eaten the good meal at Mama Maria’s in the afternoon to hold them over, and having amply grained and watered both animals before preparing them for the trail, neither of them saw any reason to stop and make camp right away.
    That suited the Ranger just fine, he thought, looking back over his shoulder from time to time, checking their back trail. He’d wanted to get across the rolling flatlands and take shelter in the rocky cover of the low foothills. The farther they rode tonight, the deeper they would be inside the hills come morning.
    To be honest, he told himself, he’d enjoyed the woman’s company and was hesitant to put the night to an end. He breathed deep and let it out slowly, savoring the feel of the night surrounding them, as if somehow the shadowy purple darkness drew them closer.
    Did she feel the same way? He believed so. Of course, it was not something he could just ask her. He straightened a bit in his saddle, having let himself relax in his thoughts. Anyway, it had been a good ride, and he hoped she felt the same.
    Not that they had spoken to any great extent. In fact, their conversation had been sparse. Yet the presence of someone riding beside him other than a prisoner in handcuffs had felt nice for a change. But enough of that—to the business at hand , he told himself, straightening again and riding on.
    When they did finally decide to stop, owing to the absence of moonlight in the deep blackened ravines, it was past midnight. The Ranger could have ridden farther—indeed, he could have ridden all night. There was the scent of the cooling desert below, the looming crispness of mesquite, of budding rock cactus and gusting night air, spiky and fresh and even heady with the faintest scent of the woman beside him.
    Stop it , he told himself, feeling akin to a man on a first-time courting call. He smiled to himself, wondering how long it had been since he’d passed a night in this manner, a large yellow Mexican moon overhead, visions of wildflowers looming just out of sight.
    â€œThis is nice, out here,” Erin said softly, as if she’d somehow read his thoughts. She raised her brother’s flop hat from her head and shook out her hair. The two sat atop the horses, gazing into the shadowy darkness ahead of them. To their right, where the trail broke away, they looked above the ground and into the starry sky surrounding the hill line, as if it had risen from the flatlands below.
    They turned their standing horses to the edge of rock and sky.
    â€œYes, it is,” Sam said, hearing only the