Riding With the Devil's Mistress (Lou Prophet Western #3) by Peter Brandvold Page B

‘Well, now, how in
the hell would she know? I bet she never drank anything stronger
than goat’s milk. And I bet you haven’t neither, have you,
sweetie?’
    The girl
didn ’t
respond to this. She returned the man’s gaze levelly, her hazel
eyes wide and innocent.
    ‘ Where
you from and where you headed, angel face?’ the man
asked.
    ‘ I’m
from Minneapolis. My dear grandmother passed away last week, and
I’m off to Montana to find Aunty Gert.’
    The man turned to the
others. ‘She’s off to Montana to find her Aunty Gert,’ he said, his
voice teeming with irony.
    ‘ Ask
her if she wants some company,’ one of the others at the bar
called.
    ‘ You
heard him, sweetie,’ the man said. ‘You want some company out to
ole Montany, looking for Aunty Gert?’
    ‘ No,
thank you, sir. But thanks for asking.’
    ‘ Well,
how about a beer, then?’ the man standing before her
said.
    ‘ No,
thank you. Like I said...’
    ‘ Yeah,
I know what you said.’ The man turned to the bartender. ‘Dave,
bring the little miss here a sarsaparilla, an’ put it on my
tab.’
    He tossed the
girl ’s hat
off the chair beside her and sat down, turning to face her. She
nearly choked on the beer stench of his breath, but kept her gaze
even and innocent.
    ‘ Thank
you,’ she said.
    When the bartender came with
the sarsaparilla, setting the glass before the girl, the man
sitting beside her said conversationally, ‘So you’re heading to ole Montany,
eh, my sweet?’
    The girl sipped her drink
noisily. ‘That’s right,’ she said, wiping her pretty, wide mouth
with the back of her hand.
    ‘ Better be careful in ole Montany,’ the man said, half
turning to his compatriots at the bar. ‘Montany’s full of one-eyed
snakes.’
    One of the men at the bar sprayed beer from
his mouth. The others chuckled and jostled each other.
    ‘ One-eyed snakes?’ the girl asked.
    The men at the bar guffawed.
    Smiling, the man seated beside
the girl said, ‘That’s right. There’s a whole bunch of ‘em out ole Montany
way. You’ll want to be careful.’ He turned a cockeyed look at her.
‘You mean to tell me you’ve never seen a one-eyed snake
before?’
    The girl thought about it,
rolling up her eyes. ‘Nope. I don’t think so.’ Frowning, she looked at
the man seriously. ‘Are they a type of sidewinder?’
    The men at the bar were
laughing so hard they had to grab the zinc counter to keep from falling
down.
    The man sitting next to the
girl dropped his head, then brought it back up, tears rolling down
his cheeks. ‘Yes, ma’am. I guess you could say they’re a type of
sidewinder.’ He paused and squinted his eyes, as though a thought
had just occurred to him. ‘Say, maybe you should see one, so you
know what they look like. That way, if you see one along the trail,
you’ll know to avoid them.’
    The girl sipped her sarsaparilla and
shrugged noncommittally.
    ‘ Yeah,’ the man said, turning to his friends for counsel.
‘Boys, don’t you think this girl should see a one-eyed snake, so
she’ll know what to avoid out in ole Montany?’
    ‘ I
think that’d only be prudent,’ one of the men said through a belly
laugh.
    ‘ Why
don’t you come upstairs with me, honey?’ the man beside the girl
said. ‘And I’ll show you a one-eyed snake.’
    The girl set her glass down,
frowning. ‘They have one-eyed snakes in Minnesota, too?’
    ‘ Well,’ the man smiled. ‘There ain’t as many of ‘em
hereabouts, but I’ve got one upstairs ... in a special cage.’ He
put his hand on the back of her chair. ‘Come on. I’ll show
you.’
    He turned to the
bartender. ‘Say, Dave, can I have a room for, say, half an
hour?’
    ‘ Five
minutes, more like,’ one of the man’s friends
interjected.
    ‘ Yeah,
but it’ll cost you,’ the bartender said.
    ‘ Put
it on my tab.’ Turning to the girl, the man said, ‘Come on, little
honey. Let’s go upstairs, and I’ll show you my one-eyed
snake.’
    The girl rolled her eyes