proprietress of a hotel on the small town’s notorious Sixth Street. It was more a bawdy house than a hotel, but Selina had a voluptuous body and the gift of making a man feel like a conqueror.
Lisa was quiet and shy and not very much to look at. But Selina…ah, she appealed to parts of him that were far removed from his heart. Her exquisite body could arouse him even in memory. He gave her expensive gifts, sent her flowers, doted on her. Thank God Douglas was a good ride from the fort, so there was little danger of Lisa finding out about her. These days, Selina was the only recreation he had.
His driver sped the big touring car past the small complement of troops stationed at the Douglas fair-grounds, and David saluted its officers as he rode past. This small garrison was hardly a threat to the Maderistas, but it boasted some brave men and would do in a pinch. In times of real danger, troops from Fort Huachuca and other posts could be quickly dispatched to any trouble points. There had been some incidents justlately, and David was worried about the future. Things would surely get worse before they got better, here on the border.
The Gadsden Hotel was, he considered, the ideal place to get local gossip about the border situation. The hotel was majestic, a meeting place for the rich and powerful, not to mention a gracious lodging. He found the information he sought within minutes of entering, from the good-natured desk clerk, and was soon on his way out of town.
It was one of the dustiest days in recent memory. His men wore their bandannas pulled snugly over their mouths and noses to keep from choking on the yellow grains. Douglas frequently sprinkled her streets with water to try and keep the dust down, but it only made matters worse. Each porch boasted a feather duster, which was used by guests to brush themselves down before entering the house. Like the sprinkling, it really did very little good.
It was a pleasant day, just cool enough to feel good as they rode down the long road toward the ranch. Morris’s eyes darted from right to left, searching for signs of invaders. Inevitably, he thought, Mexicans were going to boil over that border and start trouble. He hoped the military would be able to cope with it.
Blackwater Springs Ranch was hardly impressive, he thought as they neared the frame ranch house. The fences were sagging from their posts and in obvious need of repair. The scattered herds of cattle were emaciated, and there wasn’t much feed. If there was an operation in trouble in Arizona, this was it.
Easterners, he thought, were so sure of themselves until they knew the reality of ranching here in the desert. It was no place for tenderfeet, but they all had to learn the hard way.
He had his driver pull up at the house. He halted his small mounted column and waited for someone to come out on the porch.
Jack Lang was pleased and somewhat shocked to find a troop of cavalry on his doorstep, but he introduced himself and invited the colonel inside with his usual exquisite manners.
“No time, thanks all the same,” Morris said curtly. “Listen, I want to know about the trouble you had.”
Jack flushed a little at the abrupt tone, but he told the officer what had happened. He didn’t mention that they’d crossed the border to apprehend the raider; only that they’d questioned him and released him.
“He said he wasn’t part of Madero’s force?”
“That’s right.”
Morris looked thoughtful. “There are always men on the fringe of armies who commit crimes on their own, but this bears watching, Mr. Lang. We can’t allow Mexican patriots to defend their cause on United States money.”
“I agree. The problem is trying to prevent it. I have a limited number of hands.”
“This is usually the case in outlying areas. We will, of course, increase our patrols. I will also alert the troops in Douglas and those in the San Bernardino Valley near the Slaughter Ranch—assuming that you have
Lisa was quiet and shy and not very much to look at. But Selina…ah, she appealed to parts of him that were far removed from his heart. Her exquisite body could arouse him even in memory. He gave her expensive gifts, sent her flowers, doted on her. Thank God Douglas was a good ride from the fort, so there was little danger of Lisa finding out about her. These days, Selina was the only recreation he had.
His driver sped the big touring car past the small complement of troops stationed at the Douglas fair-grounds, and David saluted its officers as he rode past. This small garrison was hardly a threat to the Maderistas, but it boasted some brave men and would do in a pinch. In times of real danger, troops from Fort Huachuca and other posts could be quickly dispatched to any trouble points. There had been some incidents justlately, and David was worried about the future. Things would surely get worse before they got better, here on the border.
The Gadsden Hotel was, he considered, the ideal place to get local gossip about the border situation. The hotel was majestic, a meeting place for the rich and powerful, not to mention a gracious lodging. He found the information he sought within minutes of entering, from the good-natured desk clerk, and was soon on his way out of town.
It was one of the dustiest days in recent memory. His men wore their bandannas pulled snugly over their mouths and noses to keep from choking on the yellow grains. Douglas frequently sprinkled her streets with water to try and keep the dust down, but it only made matters worse. Each porch boasted a feather duster, which was used by guests to brush themselves down before entering the house. Like the sprinkling, it really did very little good.
It was a pleasant day, just cool enough to feel good as they rode down the long road toward the ranch. Morris’s eyes darted from right to left, searching for signs of invaders. Inevitably, he thought, Mexicans were going to boil over that border and start trouble. He hoped the military would be able to cope with it.
Blackwater Springs Ranch was hardly impressive, he thought as they neared the frame ranch house. The fences were sagging from their posts and in obvious need of repair. The scattered herds of cattle were emaciated, and there wasn’t much feed. If there was an operation in trouble in Arizona, this was it.
Easterners, he thought, were so sure of themselves until they knew the reality of ranching here in the desert. It was no place for tenderfeet, but they all had to learn the hard way.
He had his driver pull up at the house. He halted his small mounted column and waited for someone to come out on the porch.
Jack Lang was pleased and somewhat shocked to find a troop of cavalry on his doorstep, but he introduced himself and invited the colonel inside with his usual exquisite manners.
“No time, thanks all the same,” Morris said curtly. “Listen, I want to know about the trouble you had.”
Jack flushed a little at the abrupt tone, but he told the officer what had happened. He didn’t mention that they’d crossed the border to apprehend the raider; only that they’d questioned him and released him.
“He said he wasn’t part of Madero’s force?”
“That’s right.”
Morris looked thoughtful. “There are always men on the fringe of armies who commit crimes on their own, but this bears watching, Mr. Lang. We can’t allow Mexican patriots to defend their cause on United States money.”
“I agree. The problem is trying to prevent it. I have a limited number of hands.”
“This is usually the case in outlying areas. We will, of course, increase our patrols. I will also alert the troops in Douglas and those in the San Bernardino Valley near the Slaughter Ranch—assuming that you have
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