Free May There Be a Road (Ss) (2001) by Louis L'amour Page A

rolled a cigarette, then returned the tobacco and papers to the Kid, who was about to strike a match. "No, seor," he whispered, "behind the wall. It is not safe."
    The Cactus Kid scowled. "What isn't safe?" he asked. "I don't understand."
    "You have not been told? The man has many friends; they might decide it is safer to kill you now. The seor," he added, "has a reputation."
    "Who do you think I am?" the Kid asked.
    "Ah?" The peon looked at him wisely.
    "Who am I to know such a thing? It is enough that you are here. Enough that you will be here tomorrow."
    The Kid studied it over while he smoked, taking his time. The oblique angle seemed best.
    "Who," he said, "was the beautiful seorita in the dining room?"
    "What?" The old peon was incredulous. "You do not know? But that is she, seor! The Seorita Marguerita Ibanez." With that the old peon drifted off into the street and the Kid turned and walked back to the inn and climbed to his room. He opened the door and stepped inside, closing it carefully after him.
    Then he struck a match and lighted the candle.
    "Seor?" It was a feminine voice, but he turned sharply around, cursing himself mentally for being so careless.
    He was wearing but one gun, in position for a right-hand draw, and the candle was in that hand.
    Then he stared. Before him, a vision of loveliness, was the seorita from the dining room.
    "I have come to tell you," she said hastily, "that you must not do this thing. You must go, go at once! Get your horse, slip out of the compound tonight, and ride! Ride like the wind for the border, for you will not be safe until you cross it."
    The Cactus Kid chuckled suddenly. Puzzled as he was, he found himself enjoying it. And the girl was so beautiful. He put the candle down and motioned for her to be seated. "We've some talking to do," he said.
    "Some explanations are in order."
    "Explanations?" She was plainly puzzled at the word. "I know of nothing to explain. I cannot stay, already my uncle will have missed me. But I had to warn you. I had not expected anyone so--so young! An older man--no, it cannot be. You must go!
    I will not have you killed because of me."
    "Look, ma'am," he said politely, "there's something about this I don't understand. I think you've got the wrong man. You seem to believe I am somebody I am not."
    "Oh!" She was impatient. "Do not be a fool se fior It is all very well to conceal yourself, but you have no concealment. Everyone knows who you are."
    He chuckled again and sat down on the bed.
    "Everyone but me," he said, "but whatever it is, it does not matter. No matter what happens I shall always be able to remember that I was visited once by the most beautiful girl in Mexico!"
    "It is not time for gallantry," she protested.
    "You must go. You will be killed. Even now it may be too late!" "What's this all about?" he protested. "Tell me!"
    "Oh, don't be a fool!" She was at the door now and there was no mistaking her sincerity. Her face was unusually pale, her eyes enormous in the dim light from the candle. "If you kill him, they will kill you. If you do not kill himmthen he will kill you."
    Turning quickly, she was gone.
    "Well of all the fool..." He stopped speaking. What was happening, he could not guess, but somehow he was right in the middle of a lot of trouble, and trouble of which he knew nothing. Now the Cactus Kid was no stranger to trouble, nor to gunplay, but to go it blind and in somebody else's country, that was a fool's play. The girl was right. The only way was to get out. If he stayed he was trapped; to kill or be killed in a fight of which he understood nothing.
    He hesitated, and then he looked suddenly toward his saddlebags and rifle. There was a back stairs--it would be simple to get to the stable .. . and he could be off and away. It wasn't as if he was running. It simply wasn't his fight. He had stumbled on a lot of trouble, and... There was no moon and the trail was only a thin white streak. He walked his horse until he was a mile