Free California Carnage by Jon Sharpe Page A

toes, and pressed her mouth to his.
    He wasn’t all that surprised by the kiss. He had seen in Belinda’s eyes that she was attracted to him. And even though he didn’t really need a distraction like this while he was standing guard, he couldn’t bring himself to push her away. His right arm was free, since he was holding the Sharps in his left hand now, so he slipped it around her waist and urged her against him. Her body felt good as it molded to his, and her mouth tasted hot and sweet.
    When she finally broke the kiss, she whispered, ‘‘Skye, we could put that pile of hay to good use.’’
    The idea was mighty tempting. Ideas that involved piles of hay and beautiful, willing young women in the heat of night usually were.
    But Fargo shook his head. He had to remain alert until the end of his watch, and anyway, Belinda’s father was sleeping just below, along with Sandy and Jimmy. Nobody had ever accused him of being the soul of discretion, Fargo thought as he smiled to himself, but he had to draw the line somewhere.
    ‘‘Maybe another time and place,’’ he told her.
    ‘‘But you said there was going to be more danger along the way,’’ she argued. ‘‘Something could happen to one of us, or both of us. We might never get another chance to be together like this.’’
    ‘‘Then that would be a mighty big shame. But it still doesn’t mean this is the right time and place.’’
    She moved back a little so that her face was in shadow, so he couldn’t see her pout. He could hear it in her voice, though, as she said, ‘‘You just don’t want me.’’
    ‘‘I wouldn’t say that,’’ he told her. And if she could feel the stiffness inside his buckskin trousers right now, neither would she.
    She might have argued some more, but at that moment Fargo tensed and lifted a hand. ‘‘Shhh,’’ he said.
    She talked anyway, whispering, ‘‘Is something wrong?’’
    He had seen something from the corner of his eye, and he wasn’t quite sure what it was. Turning so that he faced the window, he peered out into the night.
    The view from here was out over the yard in front of the stable and the cantina next door. A couple of hundred yards distant stood the old mission. Fargo had no trouble making out the long sanctuary with the sturdy bell tower located at the front of it. Beyond the mission, past the fields and the orchards, he saw the sparkle of moonlight on the endlessly rolling waters of the Pacific. On a quiet night such as this, the sound of the surf could be heard without much trouble.
    Fargo leaned forward as he saw a light moving at the mission. ‘‘There it is again,’’ he said, whispering even though he knew perfectly well that whoever was responsible for the light couldn’t hear him at this distance.
    ‘‘What are you talking about?’’ Belinda said. ‘‘That’s just someone walking around with a lantern over there, isn’t it?’’
    The light was a faint, shapeless glow. Fargo didn’t think it came from a lantern. It was too vague for that. And something else wasn’t quite right about it. . . .
    ‘‘A few seconds ago, when I first saw the light, it was up in that bell tower,’’ he said. ‘‘A man wouldn’t have had enough time to climb all the way down and come outside.’’
    That was where the light was now, moving along the front of the mission. Fargo blinked as it disappeared. Then, without warning, it reappeared, this time at the top of the bell tower again.
    Belinda had seen it, too. She said, ‘‘Oh, my goodness. How did it do that?’’
    Fargo could only shake his head. ‘‘I don’t know.’’ As they stood there and watched, the light faded from sight bit by bit, until it was gone and didn’t come back.
    Fargo had always been one to trust the evidence of his own eyes, but right now he doubted what he had just seen. Belinda must have felt the same way, because she said, ‘‘That can’t be, Skye. It just can’t.’’
    ‘‘We both saw it, so I