Free Breath of the Feathered Serpent by Pelaam Page B

knew for certain if it had been one of the men from the Lazy E.
    “I think they’ve gone,” the stranger said. His voice was rich and silky, with just a hint of an accent.
    “I’ll keep you covered if you want to come over here,” Adam said. “But leave your gun where it is for now.”
    As the man scurried over and joined him, Adam kept his gun loose in his hand but was prepared to use it if he felt the need. Now that he was standing, the man’s height surprised Adam. He was close to Adam’s own six feet; however his build was far more slender. Adam wondered if the man had Apache blood given his aquiline nose. The man’s skin seemed too swarthy to be pure Indian.
    “My name’s Mecatl, and I owe you my life.” He held out his hand.
    “Adam McKenzie. What brings you out here?” Adam holstered his pistol shook Mecatl’s proffered hand.
    “I was heading through toward Buzzard Hill. I know there are some ranches, thought there may be some work. Seems I found myself a whole heap of trouble instead.”
    “Why’s that? What were you doing to get shot at?” Adam asked.
    “Murder.” Mecatl voice dropped in pitch. “I found a dead man.”
    “You sure it’s murder?’ Adam asked.
    Mecatl nodded. “So will you when you see him.”
    Adam followed Mecatl up the rocks to where a tumbledown shack was hidden. Scrub-brush helped disguise it. Adam was sure there was no way to simply stumble across it and wondered just how and why Mecatl would have been there.
    He looked down at the body. Death was never pretty. He wrinkled his nose and sighed heavily. The dead cowboy had been bound hand and foot, a thick gag tied across his mouth. He’d also had his heart cut out.
    “Hope the poor bastard was dead when that happened,” Adam said.
    Mecatl snorted. “If he’d been alive, we’d have heard him through that gag, and unless they had tied him to something, he’d have jerked and thrashed so much there would be cuts all over his chest. His wrists would also be raw and bleeding. No, he was dead. This was done to implicate Aztecs, or at least Aztec involvement.”
    “You seem quite knowledgeable,” Adam said.
    Mecatl shrugged. “My father is Aztec, my mother Apache. I learned a lot from both cultures.” He gazed dispassionately at the cadaver. “Do we report this?”
    “Nope. I’ve had enough personal contact with the local sheriff to know he’d be willing to hang us both for murder.” Adam rubbed at his chin. “Best thing is to see if we can bury him hereabouts. The proper authorities can be notified when the opportunity arises.”
    “You may look like a drifter, but you don’t sound or act like one.” Mecatl cocked his head. “In fact you seem so confident in taking the law into your own hands, I think you may have experience with it.”
    The guess was shrewd enough. Adam decided to take a risk. If his and Madison’s cover was blown, any hope of recovering the statue would be lost.
    He sat down and removed his boot. “You thinking of hanging around a while?” he asked.
    Mecatl jerked a shoulder. “I’m willing to do most things, nothing illegal though. You have work for me?”
    “Maybe.” Adam peeled back the inner sole of his boot and pressed his thumbnail into a small depression over the heel. A cover slid back and revealed a shallow compartment. Adam reached in and produced a paper-thin copper star.
    Mecatl gave a low whistle. “Never expected to meet a Federal Marshal.” He looked at Adam with new respect in his eyes. “I knew you were some kind of lawman.”
    “If you breathe a word of it, I’ll have you locked up and throw away the key. But if you’re willing to help, I can make sure you’re paid for your time. Do we have a deal?” Adam held out his hand.
    A smile spread over Mecatl’s face, transforming his naturally saturnine visage. “Never expected to be a kind of deputy either.” He grasped Adam’s hand firmly. “You have a deal, Adam. Now, what do you want me to do?”
    “Good