Lookout Hill (9781101606735) (6 page)

“I heard a few things last night,” Siebert said. “The old Mexican called you Sens Priscilla. You called him Herjico.” He paused, looked down at the gun in his hand and said, “I see nobody took my gun, just like you said they wouldn’t.”

Priscilla stared straight ahead.

“How long have you lived up here,
Witch
Priscilla?” Siebert asked as they reached the door and stopped.

“I am a healing woman. I live here when it suits me, and I leave when I know it is time to go,” she replied. “Something you should consider.”

“Yeah, except I don’t have a way to get around.” Siebert grinned, feeling better, stronger, even with a
throbbing pain deep inside his chest. “How do you get around?”

“I walk, of course,” said Priscilla, “on these two feet God has given me, the same as God has given you.”

“Do you really?” Siebert said in a skeptical tone.

“
Sí
, I do,” said Priscilla, opening the door, stepping in ahead of him.

In the small room, Herjico stood up from a wooden table. The young girl was near her grandfather’s side, the goat nestled up beside her. When the little goat saw Siebert enter the room, he lowered his knobby head and gave a bleat of warning. But before he could execute his charge, Erlina grabbed him around his thin neck and held him back.

“My, my,” said Siebert with a dark grin. He raised his Colt and cocked it toward Little Felipe. “Breakfast on the hoof. Turn him loose, little darling. Hold your ears.”

“No, no, señor!” cried Erlina.

“Stop it, you fool,” said Priscilla. “Can’t you see how much the goat means to her? It is her
cabra favorita
.”

“Her
what
?” Siebert said above the sobbing of the child as her grandfather protectively pulled both her and the goat against his leg.

“Her
pet
, you fool,” said Priscilla. “Perhaps
pet
is a word you can understand.”

Siebert turned his Colt from the goat to Priscilla, putting the tip of the barrel up under her chin.

“Call me
fool
one more time,
witch
,” he said, “see if you don’t hear something
you
can understand.”

“Señor,
por favor!
” Herjico cried out, the child sobbing,
the goat bleating, trying to pull free of Erlina’s arms and make a charge. “Do not kill her! I beg you!”

“See? He begs me,” Siebert said, grinning at Priscilla, close to her face. “I like that. Shows he’s got respect for his betters.”

Without fear, Priscilla reached a hand up and shoved the Colt away from her chin.

“Don’t worry, Herjico. This one cannot kill me.” She stared evenly into Siebert’s eyes, almost daring him to try. “How can he kill one who was never born…one who can never die?”

“
Witch
, you’ve got a powerful opinion of yourself. I’ll give you that,” said Siebert. “Adios,” he added. He put the tip of the barrel back under her chin; his hand tensed on the gun butt.

“No, no,
por favor
, señor!” Herjico shouted, pulling away from his granddaughter. “I brought you here to save your life. Do not repay me by murdering this woman.” As he spoke he grabbed up a handful of dried field beans that lay soaking in a wooden bowl of water on the table. In his desperation, he flung the handful at Siebert, pelting him with them.

Erlina shrieked and squeezed the goat tightly against her chest. The beans struck Siebert’s back and fell harmlessly to the floor around his bare feet. But Siebert’s hand eased on his gun butt as a bean fell from his tangled hair and hit the floor. He turned from Priscilla to Herjico with a strange, bemused look.

“Did you just
bean
me, old man?” he said as if in disbelief.

Herjico clenched his jaw and jutted his chest, taking a stand. Water dripped from his fingertips.

“
Sí
, I
beaned
you, and I accept my fate for doing it,” the old man said courageously.

“People—” Siebert shook his head. Another bean fell from his tangled hair. “It’s hard to decide which one of you idiots to kill first.” He swung the gun back toward Little Felipe and shrugged. “Back to breakfast, I guess.”

Erlina screamed loud and long and squeezed the goat tighter.

Again Siebert took close aim at the goat, this time with no more regard for the young girl holding it. But before he pulled the trigger, the muffled sound of a horse nickering caused him to stop cold and listen intently in the direction of the barn.

“Where’s that horse?” he said.

The old man and Priscilla looked at each other.

“I will not tell you,” Priscilla said firmly.

“Nor will I,” Herjico said.

“Suit yourselves, then,” said Siebert. “Since this witch
can’t die
and you ain’t worth killing, this young lady will have to do.” He looked at Erlina and gestured his gun hand toward the cave behind them. “Come on with me, little darling. We’re going to go play a game every girl your age needs to learn.” He grinned menacingly. “You can even bring your
pet
goat.” He looked at the old man and said, “When I’m finished, you won’t be able to tell which is which.”

“
Dios santo
, no, señor!” the old Mexican shouted,
grabbing the girl and goat and holding them both tightly. “She is no more than a child!”

“Yeah, I know….” Siebert grinned lewdly as he eyed Erlina up and down.

“Wait. I will tell you—”

“
Silencio
, Hejico!” Priscilla shouted. She started to spring toward the old Mexican, but a sharp blow from Siebert’s gun barrel sent her sprawling on the floor. A trickle of blood ran from a nasty welt along her jawline.

The old Mexican gasped. Priscilla, struggling against unconsciousness, grasped at Siebert’s leg. He kicked her soundly in her stomach with his bare foot. She fell into silence.

“Now, as you were saying, old man,” he said, turning back to Herjico.

In the hillside barn, Siebert stood with a hand on the small of Erlina’s slender back while the old Mexican walked out through a rear door into another cavern. As soon as Herjico left, Siebert rubbed his hand up and down Erlina’s back slowly, noting the firm rises of flesh pressing behind the front of her peasant’s dress. The rings of her breasts showed through the gauzy fabric like dark budding roses. Siebert leaned close and breathed in the scent of the girl’s long black hair.

“How old are you, honey?” he whispered, his eyes closed.

“I—I am ten years old,” Erlina said, petrified, clinging to the little goat.

“Ten years old,” Siebert whispered, knowing the girl was lying to save herself from him. “What a coincidence, so am I.” He grinned and opened his eyes. His gripped her in case she tried to pull away.

The girl shivered in fear and revulsion. She almost looked around for Sens Priscilla for protection, even
though Priscilla lay unconscious on the plank floor back at the house where they had left her.

“There’s nobody here but you and me, honey,” Siebert said, liking how he frightened her. Hell, she didn’t have to worry. He had no time for some skinny kid like her. Looking around, Siebert noticed the donkey standing off by itself chewing contentedly on a mouthful of hay. Seeing the knobby-backed animal, Siebert shook his head.

This whole bunch is a mess….

“If this witch woman’s livestock looks as poor as the old man’s, I might be better off walking,” he commented out loud to himself.

A moment later he snapped his gaze toward the rear door as it flew open. The old man was struggling with a lead rope. Siebert heard a low, powerful nicker on the other side from the cave as the old Mexican pulled hard, then almost shot backward out the door.

“Belleza!
Por favor
,” said the old Mexican as if pleading with some strong-willed person on the end of the rope. “You must come with me, for Sens Priscilla’s sake!”

Siebert shook his head in disgust. He shoved the little girl aside and walked toward the door.

“Yeah,
Belleza
,” he said in a scorching tone to an animal yet unseen, “get in here. If I take the rope, I’ll yank your fool head off.”

His words stopped short as he saw the tall, glistening black mare change her mind and lope through the open door, sending the old Mexican scurrying out of her way. Siebert had to jump back himself to keep from
being trampled. The big mare circled the small barn, gracefully missed the little girl and came to a sudden halt less than five feet from Siebert, the lead rope dangling to the dirt floor. She blew out a hot, powerful breath, and Siebert felt the blast of it.

“Holy jumping monkeys!” he whispered in awe, taking another short step back, staggering at the sight of such power, such raw wild energy. “Now,
that
is some good-looking horse,” he managed to say.

“No, señor, please,” said the old Mexican. “Belleza is a mare. She does not like being called a horse.”

“Belleza, huh?” Siebert said, his Colt hanging limply in his gun hand. “That means ‘beauty,’ right?”

“
Sí
, señor, it means ‘beauty,’” said Herjico. He rubbed a weathered hand along the mare’s withers in appreciation. “She is a rare beauty, no?”

The big mare chuffed deeply at the sound of her name. She shook out her raven mane and stared at Siebert. Another blast of hot breath hit his face.

“Yeah, she looks good,” said Siebert, grudgingly. “But we’ll have to see how she rides.” He stared at the mare and said, “Right, Blackie?” He stepped forward and put out a cautious hand to touch the big mare’s muzzle, but the big mare flipped her head to the side and stomped a hoof on the dirt.

“I think she does not like the name you call her, señor,” the old Mexican said.

“I don’t give a damn what she likes,” said Siebert. “As long as she’s between my knees, I’ll call her what the hell suits me.”

The mare stared at him menacingly. She scented the
blood on the gunman’s chest and chuffed again. Then she lowered her head and scraped a front hoof in the dirt like a bull.

“Oh, señor,” the old Mexican said in a wary whisper, “I think she does not like you.”

“Now, that really hurts my feelings,” Siebert chuckled with sarcasm. “Get her saddle and bridle. The sooner you dress her, the quicker I’ll be out of here.”

“
Sí
, right away, señor,” said the old man, hurrying back through the door into the cavern. He wanted to get the gunman out of there before Priscilla awakened, knowing Priscilla would put up a struggle. She might not think she could die, but Herjico thought otherwise.

Siebert looked the big black mare over until the old Mexican came back through the door carrying a saddle with a bridle, bit and reins piled atop it.

“What the hell is this?” Siebert said, looking closely at the saddle.

“It is a sidesaddle, señor,” said Herjico with a worried look on his face.

“Damn it, man. I can see it’s a
sidesaddle
,” Siebert said impatiently. “What’s the idea trying to palm it off on me? Do I look like a woman to you?”

“Oh no, señor! You do not look like a woman!” the old Mexican said quickly. “And I am not trying to palm the saddle off on you. It is the only saddle on the place. It is the only saddle Sens Priscilla ever uses on Beauty.”

Siebert looked at Herjico closely and decided he wasn’t lying.

“Throw it aside, then,” he said. “I’ll just ride this big girl bareback ’til I get a proper saddle somewhere.”

“You cannot ride her bareback, señor,” Herjico said. “She will not allow it. She will only allow you to ride her sidesaddle.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” said Siebert. “Get her bridle on. I’ll take it from there. She’ll ride me any way I choose to ride. I’ve broken bigger animals than this—”

“But, señor, your wound,” said Herjico, trying to keep any harm from coming to the big mare if he could. “Do not start yourself bleeding again. You must take it easy until you are well!”

Siebert touched his free hand to his bandaged chest. The old man was right. This was not the time to be wrestling with a headstrong riding mare.

“Damn it to hell,” he cursed, “saddle her up. I’m through wasting time here. Just because she’s wearing a
sidesaddle
doesn’t mean I have to use it like a sidesaddle.”

“
Sí
…?” The old man looked a little puzzled, but he carried the saddle to the black mare and began preparing her for the trail.

Siebert looked at the hay-chewing donkey, then at the girl and the goat in disgust. A bean fell from his tangled hair and bounced off his bare foot.
Son of a bitch
…. He kicked the bean away and looked at the big, glistening black mare.

“Belleza, my gal, you and I are going to get along just fine, soon as you come to know your place and what’s expected of you.”

He yanked the reins from the old Mexican’s hand and swung up across the sidesaddle rig as if it were a
regular saddle. He scooted around, gun in hand and tried to make himself comfortable while the old Mexican watched with curiosity.

“Hell, this ain’t going to get it. Not for long anyway,” he said angrily. He sat awkwardly to his left, his right leg cocked over the hard edge of the leather side cantle, his left foot in the saddle’s only stirrup. But it would have to do for the time being. He wasn’t going to sit like a woman—
huh-uh
. He felt his face burn red with embarrassment just thinking about it. “What are you laughing at?” he said to the old Mexican, who stood looking at him stone-faced.