Vengeance Trail by Bill Brooks Page A

If a man threw down on you, you shot him, and that was the end of
     it. Now, you was expected to bring a man in for trial, for judges and attorneys and juries to decide. All a lawman was, it
     seemed to Al Freemont as he rode along the uneven trail, was some sort of escort, a paper server.
    The whiskey eased his pain but not his mind.
Sure in hell there was somebody back there.
    New Orleans proved to be hot and humid with the warm moist winds blowing up from the Gulf. Things moved slow: people, horses,
     stray dogs, time.
    Lowell Biggs spent most of his ride down the main street, into a section called the French Quarter, swiveling his head in
     an effort to take in all the sights. The traffic of carriages and wagons and riders on horse back was heavy, the sidewalks
     full of pedestrians.
    From wrought-iron balconies, coffee-colored women shouted to them in French and blew kisses down on them. Dark-eyed men stood
     in doorways or leaned against lampposts and studied their movement.
    “Damn,” said Lowell Biggs to his brother. “You ever seen such a place as this?”
    “I don’t need to have seen it to know what it is,” said Carter, keeping his gaze directly ahead of him.
    “What do you suppose those gals up there are saying to us?”
    “Mind to our own business, Lowell. They’re just whores that have a funny way of speaking is all. We don’t have time for consortin’.
     Texas is still a long way off and that’s where we aim to be.”
    “Well maybe they are whores, Carter. But, I ain’t never seen any women in Autauga County to compare with them—not by a damn
     sight, I ain’t.”
    “Keep your eyes stuck in your head, little brother,” ordered Carter. “The onliest thing we need in this town are supplies.
     It’s so hot and muggy it feels like someone dropped a warsh cloth over my face!”
    A shrill whistle from above, from one of the balconies, drew Lowell’s attention. The woman that leaned over the railing smiled
     broadly and swished her hips.
    Unlike most of the others, this one’s skin was the color of milk, her hair black as a raven’s feathers.
    “Allo mon doux, hello my sweet. Come and visit Danielle, eh. I show you a good time, yes?”
    He was struck with her exotic beauty. She was wearing very little, and she leaned forward across the railing in order to show
     him even more of herself.
    He removed his hat from his head and held it over his heart. She wiggled a finger at him to come.
    “Venir chere, come my darling, I will give you much plaisir, mon doux.”
    Carter’s face twisted grim the minute he realized that Lowell had halted his progress, had been engaged by one of the whores.
     He wheeled his dun around and walked it back to where his little brother sat in the middle of the street looking up at the
     balcony tart.
    “Lowell! I warned you, we ain’t got time for this!”
    “Why the hell not?” said Lowell, irritated at his brother for having broken the spell she had been casting upon him.
    “I already told you why! We’re on our way to Texas to find that bastard Johnny Montana!”
    “Well, it ain’t like Texas is exactly right around the corner, now is it? What’s an hour more going to make in the difference?
     You may be older, Carter, but I’m a grown man and I can make my own decisions. And right now I’m deciding to go on up and
     see that lady.” His grin was spread from ear to ear ashe looked up at the woman who was being even more explicit with him, more daring.
    Carter cast a furtive glance up at the woman. She had pulled her bodice down and exposed her breasts.
    “You like what you see, chere?”
    Carter saw that other women on the balconies were acting just as lewd now that they had drawn the attention of the two men
     below them.
    “Look at ’em all, Carter!” said Lowell, thoroughly absorbed by the lascivious behavior of the women.
    Carter could see that short of putting a pistol to his brother’s head, that he wasn’t going to deter the younger man’s