After the Ashes(49)

He urged Lucky to pick his way down the rock covered slope.

“I might have helped myself to a few extra cards here and there, but I wasn’t the only one,” said Corey.

“Shut up, kid.” Braddock would be a lot more amused by Corey’s fall from grace—not that he’d had far to fall—if it weren’t for Lorelei’s silence.

He turned to her. “You’re my wife and your brother’s a hired hand. We’re on our way back from selling a herd of cattle in Santa Fe. We have a spread northwest of here. But don’t say anything unless you have to. Let me do the talking.”

“I don’t want to be the hired hand.”

“Shut up, Corey,” said Lorelei before Braddock had the chance.

At their approach, the weathered town of false front buildings remained still and silent. Before they reached the first structure, a planked two story with an overhang, Braddock made sure the nose of Lorelei’s horse could be hit by a swish of Lucky’s tail.

Coyote Pass had been built by a group of settlers who didn’t last. Run out by Indians, outlaws, and the sheer desolation of the location, the settlers had left their hard work to be taken over by anyone who didn’t want to be found. A store remained open where one could actually buy or trade things, if they didn’t mind stolen goods. Next door, a livery stable worked on the same philosophy, but the main attraction was the saloon and brothel that had once been intended as a fine hotel. Ending the street was a church with intact stained glass windows and a steeple whose crowning iron cross Braddock was always surprised to see had not yet been hit by lightning.

His palms itched to rest on the butt of his gun, but that would be a mistake. He was supposed to be a rancher. He slipped off Lucky’s back and grabbed the pinto’s bridle.

“Get on her other side, kid.”

For once Corey didn’t argue, and he did as Braddock asked. The stallions stood taller than the young pinto and since Lorelei didn’t sit exactly tall in the saddle, they were able to shelter her.

Braddock studied the quiet street. Nobody was going to die today. He’d make sure of that.

They walked all the way to the saloon without seeing another soul. Mulcahy wasn’t the only one lying low. Civilization was pushing west with the railroad, and outlaws were becoming as hunted as buffalo.

Braddock tied Lucky to the rail at the far side of the once whitewashed building. Paint peeled in layers, making the grand facade look as though it were melting. The horse trough in front held a green film of algae in the bottom, and he didn’t want Lucky to test the slime for water. He tied the pinto next to Lucky, then helped Lorelei out of the saddle.

“Thank you,” she said a little too breathlessly.

He looked away before he saw the shy smile he heard in her voice. Corey dismounted and Braddock grabbed the pinto’s reins.

“I’ll water the horses.” Corey hunched behind Lucky’s tall, thick back.

“I don’t think so.” Braddock found a place on the splintered boardwalk that seemed solid, and held his hand out to Lorelei.

She didn’t hesitate to place her gloved palm in his. He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, then unsnapped the metal thong holding his pistols in their holsters. Lorelei’s grip on his arm tensed.

“Come on, kid.” He nodded toward the saloon.

Corey’s mouth pursed into a white line.

Braddock stopped him before he said something stupid and gave them away. “The time to argue is over.”

Then he moved forward and peeked into the dark cavern of the saloon. The door hung off its hinges. He guided Lorelei inside, keeping her close. Dusty windows filtered out the bright daylight. Two men sat at a table by the back wall, playing cards by the glow of a lantern. Another man hunched over a table near the bar and cradled a bottle of whiskey, his right eye swollen shut, his lip split. He stood at their approach.

The card players in the back stopped and stared.

Braddock fought the urge to shove Lorelei behind him. If he didn’t panic, Lorelei would be the perfect cover. No one in their right mind would bring a woman here if they knew the sort of lowlifes who made this place their home.

“Are you open for business? Like to get a drink for my wife. She needs to get out of the sun,” he said, effecting a Southern drawl to make himself sound friendly.

“Absolutely,” said the man with the black eye. He grinned, then winced when the effort tugged at his cracked lip.“ ’Scuse me.” He giggled. “Forgot about my face. I must look a sight.”

The man was stinking drunk. He stumbled behind the bar. “What can I get you folks?”

Braddock set Lorelei in a chair near the door. Corey stuck by his sister, keeping his head down and discreetly turned away from the man who appeared to be the bartender.