Kiss of Death----4
Buck smiled down at the woman lying on the blanket beside the gurgling stream of water. Once Chris had ridden out of sight she'd asked him to accompany her to one of the line shacks near the creek and he'd readily agreed. Angela appeared half an hour later with a picnic hamper in her hand and a bottle of wine in the other, suggesting that they eat while they worked.
Buck ran his fingers through the silken strands of red hair and breathed deeply of the scent that was hers alone. They'd made love beside the creek and she suggested a quick swim before eating lunch. Now sated, with food and wine, the two lovers lay curled up beside each other.
"This place is beautiful," Wilmington observed as he looked at the hundred foot trees that surrounded them. The sun peeked through the shade of the leaves and bathed them in warmth as a light breeze tickled their skin.
"It is, isn't it? I've always loved this part of the country and I think that's why I came back here to live. That and the hope that someday you would return as well." She looked into the clear blue eyes and knew this man loved her and she craved the touch of his hands on her body. She would own him before they were through and he would stay at her side in the running of this ranch.
"I'm here, Darlin', and right now there's no place I'd rather be," Wilmington said and reached for the glass of wine. He tipped it to her lips before sipping from the same glass and setting it down above her head once more.
"Oh, Buck, I've waited so long for this and I want everything to be perfect for us."
"I'm looking at perfection," Wilmington whispered as he nuzzled against her cheek. He heard her sigh as she pressed against the length of his body and entwined her legs with his.
"No one has ever called me perfection, Buck…"
"Well, I was hoping I was the only one who can see how beautiful you really are, Angela. I've never seen anyone with so much energy…so much love…and I want you…"
"You have me…"
"No, I mean I want you with me forever. Will you marry me, Angela?"
"Oh, Buck, are you sure?"
"Yes," Wilmington said dreamily. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."
"Yes, Buck, God yes, I'll marry you!"
"Good," the rogue said and kissed her again. "Name the date…"
"Shouldn't we wait?"
"What for? I want to marry you as soon as possible."
"Well, today is Thursday and it'll take a couple of days to make the arrangements. How about Sunday?"
"Sounds good to me."
"Would you like to get married in the church or at the ranch?"
"How about right here?"
"Here?" Angela asked incredulously.
"Why not, it's perfect."
"Yes, it is, but what if it rains?"
"It won't. Nothing is going to ruin our day."
"What about Chris?"
"Chris will be fine, Angela. He knows how I feel about you."
"He doesn't seem to like me."
"I wouldn't say that. I think Chris just wants to make sure I don't make the same mistakes he has. He may not always show it, but he cares about his friends and doesn't want to see us hurt."
"I could never hurt you, Buck."
"I know that, Darlin'," Wilmington said and felt her hands reach out and touch his chest.
Angela smiled inwardly as she touched the coarse dark hair on Wilmington's chest. The wine had been laced with a drug given to her by Rosemary Clark and she knew this man was under the influence of its effects. It would not hurt him, but he would be more susceptible to her touch and she knew it had relaxed him to the point where he had asked her to marry him. She had enough of the drug to keep him under her control until after they were married and then she would use it whenever she thought it necessary. Drugs were something she had easy access to and her friend would make sure she had what she needed.
"I hope that smile is for me, Angela," Wilmington said.
"Who else would it be for, Buck. Make love to me."
"Here? Now? Again?"
"Hmm, hmm," she whispered and soon felt his lips on hers. This was the life she wanted and no one would be allowed to interfere.
M7M7M7M7M7M7M7
The town really hadn't changed except that the few buildings still standing were in need of repair. The church at the edge of town was the only building that seemed to have weathered the years without damage. Chris wondered if Midfield had its own version of Josiah Sanchez. To his right was the saloon, batwing doors hanging slightly askew as the wind blew into the dusty interior. On his left and a little further down the street was the jail and he could see the man whose job it was to uphold the law. The sheriff sat on a chair, tilted back, feet straight out in front of him, and his hat pulled forward over his eyes.
Chris continued along, passing the saloon and a small restaurant before coming to a stop before the jail.
"What can I do fer ya, Mister?" the sheriff asked without moving a muscle.
"Need to send a telegram."
"Telegraph office is part of the hotel. You in town long?"
"Reckon that's my business."
"My town…my business. Helps me keep the rabble out."
"Not much here to attract rabble," Larabee said with a grin as the other man looked up.
"Well, sweet Jesus, is that you, Chris?"
"Sure is. How have you been Evan?"
"I've been getting along pretty good. Sure didn't expect to see you back in town. Buy ya a drink?"
"Sounds good. Just need to send that telegram first."
"All right…hey where's Wilmington? Ain't he with ya?" Evan Rawlings asked curiously.
"He's out at the Tate place."
"Ah, I should have known. He still sweet on the lady?"
"Seems like it. I'll meet you at the saloon as soon as I've sent the telegram."
"Sounds good, Chris."
Larabee continued towards the ramshackle building that held the sign denoting it as the Midfield Hotel and Restaurant. He quickly dismounted and looped Pony's reins over the rail before walking into the hotel. The interior was elegantly furnished and cleaned to polished perfection. There were no patrons present, but there was a woman standing behind a counter and she smiled as he walked towards her.
"Can I help you, Sir?"
"Need to send a telegram."
"Certainly," the woman said as she slid a paper and quill pen across the counter to him. She watched as he wrote quickly and handed it across to her once more.
"How much?" Larabee asked as she finished reading the missive. Her answer was curt and he handed her the money she asked for and watched as she sent the telegram.
"It may take some time, Mr…"
"Larabee," the blond answered. "I'll be staying at the Tate place. If an answer comes ask one of the men to ride out there and I'll make it worth his while."
"Of course, Mr. Larabee, I hope you enjoy your stay."
"Thank you," Larabee said and turned to leave. He didn't see the woman crumple up the paper and throw it into the trash, nor did he feel the cold calculating eyes that followed his every move.
Rosemary Clark knew what she had to do as the gunfighter left the hotel. She'd sent the message, but not to St. Louis as he requested. She knew he wouldn't be receiving an answer to his query about the circumstances surrounding Robert Stratton's death. Gathering her long skirts she turned and walked to the back room where she kept some of her personal items, including a colt pistol belonging to her husband. Checking the gun she was satisfied that it was loaded and hurried to find the one man she relied on at times like this.
M7M7M7M7M7M7M7
Chris made his way to the saloon and pushed the doors open. He spotted the sheriff at the back and quickly entered as he gazed left to right and back again. The interior was like most saloons, dull and dusty, but there was also the familiar smell of whiskey and beer and Chris wanted both. He hurried to the table and without even thinking about it took the seat that provided him with a good view of the front entrance, stairs, and the windows.
"Whiskey still your choice of drink, Chris?"
"Yep," Larabee answered as a saloon girl came over and took their orders. She came back with a two glasses and a bottle and the blond smiled at her as he reached for the Red Eye. "Leave the bottle."
"You heard him, Maddie," Rawlings said and smiled at the woman before she left. "So, how have things been with you, Chris? Last I heard you'd settled down and started that horse ranch."
"Didn't work out," Larabee answered irritably.
"Sorry to hear that. I thought you'd have a damn good chance of making it. Never knew a man who could tell a good horse just by lookin' at him like you could."
Chris poured a second shot and downed it before looking at the man seated across from him. Evan Rawlings had been a friend to him and Buck and he didn't want to insult him, but there were things Chris kept to himself and didn't talk about. Breeding horses was too much of a reminder of all he'd lost and something he discussed with a select few.
"I'm sorry, Chris. Didn't mean to pry."
"It's just not something I talk about, Evan."
"Understood. So what are you and Buck up to now?"
"We help keep the peace in a little place called Four Corners."
"Four Corners! Hell, don't tell me you're one of them Magnificent Seven Jock Steele wrote about?"
"I wouldn't exactly call us magnificent, but we get the job done," Larabee answered.
"Well I'll be damned. If that don't beat all! I never would've believed Buck Wilmington and Chris Larabee upholdin' the law. Seems to me ya both spent a fair amount of time keeping the flies company in my jail."
"Yeah, times have changed, Evan."
"Glad to hear it. Whatever happened to that woman you were seeing? What was her name? Gant…Grant…Ella Grant…no Ella Gaines? Pretty thing…did you ever marry her?"
"No," the blond answered simply, fighting back the anger and resentment he felt rising like hot sour bile in his throat.
"Sorry, prying again. Anyway, Chris it's good to see you, but I've got a job to do. Tell Buck I said hello when ya get back to the Tate place."
"Will do. Thanks for the whiskey," Larabee told him.
"Any time."
Chris sat back, took a cheroot from his pocket and lit it. He was the only patron and was again grateful for the solitude. Knowing that he had a long hot ride ahead of him, Chris sipped the whiskey and enjoyed his smoke before standing and hurrying out of the saloon. He walked to the hotel and stepped through the doors before searching for the woman he'd spoken to earlier. A man stood behind the counter and he hurried over.
"Can I help you, Mister?"
"Sent a telegram a couple of hours ago and wondered if there'd been a reply yet."
"There hasn't been anything come through since Rosie left."
"Thanks, I'll check back in a few days."
"Sure thing."
Chris turned away and went back out into the late afternoon sunshine. He moved towards Pony and checked the saddle before mounting up and heading out of town. As he passed the last building he noticed the dark clouds moving across the sky and knew they were going to have a storm before long. The wind had picked up as well, but it would still be some time before the storm hit them and he knew he could take cover somewhere if it grew too bad. The first hour passed without seeing anyone, but he spotted a rider coming towards him from the right and he watched the newcomer with a gunslinger's instincts. As the rider drew abreast of him, Chris' right hand rested on the butt of his colt. The rider looked to be around fifteen and Chris relaxed slightly as he watched the smile cross the young man's face.
"Hey, Mister, have you seen a young woman come ridin' this way?"
"No."
"Damn, she's my sister and I gotta tell her Ma's waitin' on her."
"She ain't been this way," Larabee answered, finding himself relaxing as the other man seemed to look all around and stretch his neck as if looking around Chris. "Hope you find her."
"Damn if that ain't her comin'," the newcomer said and Chris twisted slightly in the saddle.
Chris Larabee cursed his stupidity at letting his guard down so easily. The boy's laughter reached his ears at the same time the sound of a gunshot echoed throughout the landscape. Chris felt the bullet impact with his right leg and ignored the fiery trail of pain as Pony bolted back the way they came. He gripped the reins and cursed again as the boy pursued him. Chris had little time to think as another rider came into view. He recognized the woman from town just as he pulled his gun from its holster. He turned to fire on the first foe, but the woman's shot caught him on the left side and the intensity of the pain was such that the gun slipped from his fingers even as his body was thrown from Pony's back. He landed hard on the ground, his head impacting with a rock as he rolled down a small hillock before slamming into a tree. He had no idea how long he lay there, but forced his eyes open. An angel stood over him; one he recognized and suddenly realized his angel was a devil in disguise as she used the butt of a rifle to render him unconscious.
Rosemary Clark stared down at the unconscious gunfighter and smiled as she touched his neck. The man was still alive, but he was bleeding from two bullet wounds and from a deep laceration above his right eye. She quickly gestured for her accomplice to come closer and smiled as the twenty-two year old man with the face and gaunt body of a boy stood beside her. She saw that he'd managed to catch Chris Larabee's horse and knew what she had to do.
"Well done, Ethan, now help me get him on his horse and out to my place."
"Are you sure your place is safe, Miss Rosemary? What about your husband?"
"Joseph does not interfere in my business, Ethan. He knows what I do is what keeps us living so well off. I believe you understand about that…after all you have an easy job as long as you do as you're told. Now help me get him up and secured to his saddle before someone comes along."
"Yes, Ma'am," Ethan Turner agreed and reached for Larabee's upper body. Most people who saw him thought he would be blown away by a strong breeze, but Ethan had worked hard to gain the strength often lacking in men his size. With Rosemary's help he had Larabee on his feet and they managed to carry him to where Pony was ground tied. "Miss Rosemary, it might be easier if you go around the horse and pull him while I lift him. Then we just need to tie his hands and feet to the saddle."
"All right, Ethan, are you sure you can handle him from this side?"
"Yes, Ma'am, I'm a lot stronger than folks think."
"I can see that," the Clark woman said as she hurried to the opposite side. Pony shied away at the strange hands and the strong smell of blood, but he could not move very far with the tight rein. She reached across the saddle and grabbed Larabee's arms as Turner began to heft him onto the animal's back. Larabee's dead weight soon rested on Pony's back and she quickly wrapped rope around his wrists and tightened the bounds until she had him tied to the stirrups. She looked across to see Ethan putting the finishing touches on Larabee's ankles and quickly mounted her own big bay.
"Ethan, you ride on ahead with Larabee and take him to the line shack at the north corner of my property. Take the back roads and make sure no one sees you. I'll stop by the house and get the things I need to take care of our guest.
"Yes, Ma'am," Turner said and grabbed Pony's reins before mounting his own animal. He turned them onto an old track before heading towards the north corner at a steady pace.
Rosemary watched as Turner disappeared and finally turned her horse towards her friend's house. She knew she was taking a chance on kidnapping Chris Larabee, but there was no way she could have hidden the details of Angela Tate's background. She needed to get to Angela and they would have to come up with a reason for Larabee's sudden disappearance. Riding towards the Tate ranch, Rosemary began to formulate a plan.
TBC