a woman.
Cain knew exactly who he wanted, and knew too that no substitute on earth would do. All the saloon girls in Durango rolled into one couldn't possibly satisfy the unholy craving that dogged him day and night. No one but his violet-eyed temptress of a cousin could do that, and she was completely off-limits. Maybe another beer would help ease the agony.
"Hey, barkeep," he said, holding up his empty mug. "Send down another, will you?"
As he waited for the only relief he supposed he'd get this night, Cain glanced around the saloon again.
It was late afternoon, and a weekday at that, but The Clipper was damn near filled. Most of the customers were huddled around the gaming tables, but only a few of them were engaged in games of chance. Many simply appeared to be sharing a sip and talking politics, the focus of which was Grover Cleveland's chances of reelection in the race against the Republican, Benjamin Harrison.
One of the town leaders voiced his concerns about the newly revamped Republican party. Couldn't it still be as corrupt as it had been during the '84 elections? How could an honest voting man know? And say, shouted another. That reminds me—have you heard the latest rumors? That pushy female lawyer, Belva Lockwood, is thinking of running for president as the nominee for the Natural Equal Rights party—again. Have you ever heard of anything so outrageous? Hoots and a round of guffaws followed this declaration, and Cain lost interest in the conversation just as his beer arrived.
He wrapped his fingers around the handle of the glass mug, and then froze. The bartender's gaze was still on him, measuring him. Cain furrowed his brow as he said, "Is there some kind of problem, mister?"
"Oh, ah... no, sir." The bartender wiped his hands on his apron. "You look a little familiar, is all. You from around here?"
Of course, Cain didn't know. In fact, it struck him then that this stranger might know more than he did about his past. Careful not to reveal too much, he said, "I've passed through here a time or two. You remember me, do you?"
The man shrugged. "Not really." He stared at him a little longer, and then shook off a sudden tremor. "Must be mistaken. Forget I mentioned it."
A boy of about twelve pushed in through the doors and approached the bar then, scuffing his heels across the wood floor as he walked. Without glancing at the customer holding a beer, he stretched to his full five feet and said to the bartender, "Is there a man calls himself Brother Law in here?"
"Hell, son, how am I supposed to know the name—"
"I'm Cain Law. What is it?"
The boy turned wide eyes on him. "Are you Brother Law?"
"I am. What do you want?"
The boy looked him up and down, frowning at Cain's jeans and dark blue shirt. Only the flat- brimmed hat with the dead-level crown suggested a man of the clergy. The young man cocked his head sideways, squinting as he said, "You don't look much like a preacher."
"I never said I was a preacher. Now what do you want?"
Duly impressed by the man's authoritative tone, the boy said, "A lady sent me to come find you."
Assuming the lad was referring to Oda, Cain set his beer on the bar and gave the youngster his full attention. "Did she say why she wants me?"
Looking from side to side, the boy lowered his voice. "I think something bad happened to her, but she didn't say what. Her eyes was real big and worried-like, but even then, them were the prettiest eyes I ever did see."
Cain leaned down, took the lad by the shoulders, and dragged him forward until their noses were practically touching. "What did she say to you and where is she?"
The boy's eyes widened further, and then he stuttered, "Sh-she's just up the s-street. Sh-she said to tell you to come help her out. Said she was having some kind of a emergency."
Chapter 6
Hiding in an alley just around the corner from Main Avenue, Mariah stole another peek down Tenth Street. There was still no sign of Cain or the boy.
She
Cain knew exactly who he wanted, and knew too that no substitute on earth would do. All the saloon girls in Durango rolled into one couldn't possibly satisfy the unholy craving that dogged him day and night. No one but his violet-eyed temptress of a cousin could do that, and she was completely off-limits. Maybe another beer would help ease the agony.
"Hey, barkeep," he said, holding up his empty mug. "Send down another, will you?"
As he waited for the only relief he supposed he'd get this night, Cain glanced around the saloon again.
It was late afternoon, and a weekday at that, but The Clipper was damn near filled. Most of the customers were huddled around the gaming tables, but only a few of them were engaged in games of chance. Many simply appeared to be sharing a sip and talking politics, the focus of which was Grover Cleveland's chances of reelection in the race against the Republican, Benjamin Harrison.
One of the town leaders voiced his concerns about the newly revamped Republican party. Couldn't it still be as corrupt as it had been during the '84 elections? How could an honest voting man know? And say, shouted another. That reminds me—have you heard the latest rumors? That pushy female lawyer, Belva Lockwood, is thinking of running for president as the nominee for the Natural Equal Rights party—again. Have you ever heard of anything so outrageous? Hoots and a round of guffaws followed this declaration, and Cain lost interest in the conversation just as his beer arrived.
He wrapped his fingers around the handle of the glass mug, and then froze. The bartender's gaze was still on him, measuring him. Cain furrowed his brow as he said, "Is there some kind of problem, mister?"
"Oh, ah... no, sir." The bartender wiped his hands on his apron. "You look a little familiar, is all. You from around here?"
Of course, Cain didn't know. In fact, it struck him then that this stranger might know more than he did about his past. Careful not to reveal too much, he said, "I've passed through here a time or two. You remember me, do you?"
The man shrugged. "Not really." He stared at him a little longer, and then shook off a sudden tremor. "Must be mistaken. Forget I mentioned it."
A boy of about twelve pushed in through the doors and approached the bar then, scuffing his heels across the wood floor as he walked. Without glancing at the customer holding a beer, he stretched to his full five feet and said to the bartender, "Is there a man calls himself Brother Law in here?"
"Hell, son, how am I supposed to know the name—"
"I'm Cain Law. What is it?"
The boy turned wide eyes on him. "Are you Brother Law?"
"I am. What do you want?"
The boy looked him up and down, frowning at Cain's jeans and dark blue shirt. Only the flat- brimmed hat with the dead-level crown suggested a man of the clergy. The young man cocked his head sideways, squinting as he said, "You don't look much like a preacher."
"I never said I was a preacher. Now what do you want?"
Duly impressed by the man's authoritative tone, the boy said, "A lady sent me to come find you."
Assuming the lad was referring to Oda, Cain set his beer on the bar and gave the youngster his full attention. "Did she say why she wants me?"
Looking from side to side, the boy lowered his voice. "I think something bad happened to her, but she didn't say what. Her eyes was real big and worried-like, but even then, them were the prettiest eyes I ever did see."
Cain leaned down, took the lad by the shoulders, and dragged him forward until their noses were practically touching. "What did she say to you and where is she?"
The boy's eyes widened further, and then he stuttered, "Sh-she's just up the s-street. Sh-she said to tell you to come help her out. Said she was having some kind of a emergency."
Chapter 6
Hiding in an alley just around the corner from Main Avenue, Mariah stole another peek down Tenth Street. There was still no sign of Cain or the boy.
She
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