Free Ambush at Shadow Valley by Ralph Cotton Page B

too greatly unlike many of the men she had known in her past. She had survived the streets and brothels of the Barbary Coast among such men, she told herself as she dipped water in her hands and washed trail grit from her arms, her breasts.
    Her hand went to a jagged, three-inch scar in the tender flesh above her right breast, at the edge of her armpit. With a cool head, clear thought and deliberation, surely she could survive these two, she told herself.
    From the edge of the stream, watching intently as she dipped water and let it run down her long hair, Ransdale felt his cheek twitch nervously. ‘‘Damn black-hearted whore,’’ he said, to keep himself from being aroused by her action. ‘‘What goes on in their heads, you think?’’
    Soto gave him a flat, sidelong look, then cut his gaze back to Clarimonde. ‘‘Getting themselves ahead in the game,’’ he said, ‘‘the same as the rest of us.’’ A few feet away, the four horses stood with their muzzles down, drawing water.
    â€˜â€˜This one would cut our throats while we’re sleeping, and never bat an eye over it,’’ Ransdale observed.
    Soto grinned, his eyes fixed on Clarimonde’s pale, firm flesh. "Yes, I admire that in a woman," he said, seeing her stoop down onto her knees and bow forward.
    Allowing her hair to flow on the clear braided stream, she drank like some exotic creature from the wilds. ‘‘Hot damn,’’ said Ransdale. ‘‘Does she know what she’s doing to us?’’
    â€˜â€˜Oh yes, she knows,’’ Soto replied. ‘‘You can count on it.’’
    Ransdale considered it for a moment; his cheek twitched again, this time more severly. He swallowed hard and said, ‘‘I’m going to wade out there and beat the living hell out of her.’’ He started to rise. Soto stopped him with a hand on his forearm.
    Looking at him again, Soto said, ‘‘Calm yourself down, Nate. Why would you want to do something like that?"
    Ransdale shrugged, but it was a stiff, awkward gesture that required effort in order to make it look casual. ‘‘You know, just to be doing it. I’m restless.’’
    "Restless, huh? You want to do something? Walk off into the brush, take a minute and check back along the trail, see how it looks.’’ He nodded toward the thick brush at the trail’s edge. ‘‘Hurry up though. We need to get above these hills.’’
    His face reddening, Ransdale understood Soto’s suggestion and what it really meant. ‘‘Hell, I don’t need to do nothing like that. We’re not in prison anymore. I was just thinking out loud about the whore . . . smacking her around. Some of them like that, you know.’’
    â€˜â€˜I’ve got a feeling this one doesn’t,’’ said Soto, his eyes going back to the woman. "Besides, she’s banged up enough already.’’ He smiled. ‘‘We are not gentlemen, after all that cell time.’’
    They sat in silence for a moment. Then Ransdale said with a slight chuckle, ‘‘I have to say, it’s been a good trail so far. How many men break out of prison, run the border and come upon a whore just hanging out up here with a herd of goats?’’
    â€˜â€˜Not many, I’d have to surmise,’’ said Soto.
    â€˜â€˜None that I ever heard of,’’ Ransdale said, settling down a little and watching the woman without the tight twitch in his jaw. ‘‘If this is all a taste of riding with you, I have to say it’s an honor, mi amigo.’’
    â€˜â€˜Don’t ever speak Spanish to me,’’ Soto said, his attitude bristling suddenly. ‘‘You’ve seen me cut men for doing it.’’
    â€˜â€˜I—I forgot for a minute,’’ said Ransdale. ‘‘I meant no offense by it.’’
    Soto