The Trailsman #396 Read Online Free Page A

natural leader in any group of hard, immoral ­men—­the one who could always unite them in the vilest acts.
    But even Alvarez shuddered inwardly at the nameless depravity in Jemez’s dead, ­bone-­button eyes. When those eyes looked at any man for more than a few seconds they were generally mapping out kill zones.
    â€œJemez speaks the truth,” he said. “Fargo pulled the trigger, but I am the killer. You see, I . . . took Roberto’s sister in La Cuesta. Evidently the girl was fragile, for somehow she died. Who knows? It was her first time and perhaps she became too excited. Sometimes I can be a stallion.”
    Jemez’s laugh was dry as sotol stalks. Alvarez shrugged as if embarrassed to speak of such a trivial matter.
    â€œRoberto pretended that it did not matter, that he was still loyal to me. Perhaps that was true. But sometimes these things work at a man like a cactus thorn. So I ordered him to fire on Fargo knowing Fargo would kill him.”
    â€œAll right,” Butler said. “Maybe that was smart. But you said Juan Salazar, his younger brother, was with this army bunch. That can’t be no coincidence.”
    Alvarez smoothed his mustache again. “Juan Salazar has the courage of a gourd vine. Any man who works for honest wages lacks the huevos to be a true man.”
    Alvarez nodded toward the camp just past the river. “This woman,” he said thoughtfully, “this beautiful cantante . . . you say she is a feast for a man’s eyes?”
    Butler, who had only recently joined the Scorpion’s gang along with his owlhoot cousin, Ham Rogers, nodded enthusiastically.
    â€œYou’ll see her soon,” he replied. “I seen her close up when she sang at the Frontier Theater back in Omaha. Her name’s Karen Bradish. Blond hair the color of new wheat, white skin like some creamy lotion, and more curves than a man could possibly brake for, so why bother?”
    â€œYou say her brother is rich?”
    â€œWell, the richest man in Los Angeles, anyhow. And he dotes on her. She’s the key to the mint, Pablo. She’ll be good for thousands in ransom. Not to mention the fine poon we can all go snooks on. You, me, Jemez, Montoya and Ham. The rest of the boys camped down at Quartzsite won’t need to know about her.”
    Alvarez looked skeptical. But Butler had worked himself into a lather just thinking about the beautiful blond singer. Sweat oozed out of the greasy tangle of his hair. But the blazing desert sun and scorching air evaporated it almost immediately. Yesterday he took a piss and the ­shake-­off drops never made it to the ground.
    â€œHowzat sound, Jemez?” he called over to the ­half-­breed. “Been a while since you had a little stinky finger, hanh? But the white man goes first.”
    Jemez’s dead eyes cut toward the gringo. “You flap your mouth too much, gunny,” he said, his voice flattened of all emotion yet somehow menacing. “You’ll have to get that bitch from Fargo first, and you are not man enough to brace him.”
    The wheedling grin bled from Butler’s dirty face, which tightened with ­quick-­fuse anger. “There’s ten dead men with reputations who didn’t think I was man enough to throw down on ’em. You looking to end my streak?”
    â€œBasta,” Alvarez said in a bored tone. “Enough with this clash of stags. If my best men kill each other in pissing contests, how will we all get rich? How will we enjoy this beautiful ­woman—­and perhaps her doting brother’s ­money—­if we do not unite against Fargo?”
    â€œMakes sense,” Butler said.
    â€œOf course we all hate each other,” Alvarez said cheerfully. “Who knows who among us will kill which others eventually? We are filthy, low animals with no code of honor. But for now we must join our skills and defeat Fargo.”
    Butler said,