Chapter 17

After killing and skinning another of Patrick's goats, Lou climbed to the canyon ridge, moving north away from the shack. Mary thought that was the way Patrick went when he left. Lou carried his canteen full of fresh spring water and sported a covering for his head fashioned from what remained of Mary's slip after she used it for bandaging his injured shoulder. Probably looked right ridiculous, but there wasn't any sense in chancing a new set of blisters when his skin had just finally healed from the last.

By midmorning he was near ready to give up his search. The still queasy earth continued to shake occasionally, some of the quakes being stronger than others. The shaking made for troublesome footing on the rocks of the broken country along the canyon rim. Lou was fairly certain the man would have stayed on the rim rock in spite of the poor purchase of its slippery shale. Patrick was looking for the goat herd. It made little sense for him to have gone into the canyon bottom to do so.

After all the time elapsed since his disappearance, this looking for Patrick, or more probably his rotting body, was like looking for a chicken hawk's feather in a hen house. How far had he gotten, in which direction, before falling victim to some unfortunate mishap was nigh unto impossible for anyone to figure. Lou knew of one individual as well acquainted with the perils of the wild country as he was with the edge of his knife. He hadn't returned from a trip to his own out house. Hadn't ever found the least sign of him, either.

At mid-day Lou found the long dead coals of a small campfire. The remains from the fire could have been there almost any length of time. Could be Patrick's. Could belong to someone here and gone long before Patrick set foot on the canyon rim. Lou was no tracker. But the way the coals lay broken up and spread apart said someone stomped the fire out with a great deal more force than necessary. And the chances were good that the campfire was Patrick's. Weren't a whole lot of travelers moving around in this desolate territory. And what Lou did know of tracking, it was almost as much knowing who you tracked as it was the sign on the ground. If Patrick got himself out here looking for his goats and became disoriented by the earthquakes, well, that might account for a measure of frustration. From Mary's description, Patrick didn't sound to be very smart. But then, Lou wasn't all that sure he could trust her opinion. Mary could be a might strange herself. Shaking his head, Lou continued north.

His search that day ended when the rim he followed ended in a spur point splitting the canyon depths. He'd traveled most of the day at a leisurely pace, keeping an eye out for Patrick or his remains, while using his own recovering strength sparingly. Even taking it slow and easy hadn't saved his body from becoming sore. His ribs ached already. There was no need to climb down to the canyon floor. The only sign of the man he'd found all day was the old campfire.

With a shrug, Lou turned back to the shack. If he stood any chance of locating Mary's husband, Lou was simply going to have to spend more time out here in the wilderness. Not that he expected to find him alive. He had to be dead by now. Lou couldn't believe he'd wandered off for greener pastures. No, whatever kept the man away from his goats and pretty wife this long was very permanent. If it was up to Lou, he'd let the man lay wherever the coyotes found him. Mary, however, needed to know for sure, needed Lou to tell her that he'd seen the body, that Patrick was never coming back. So, he'd go out again tomorrow.

Mary was sitting on the log beside the fire when Lou returned. Her eyes locked onto his. She never said anything, but Lou could see she was glad he'd come back alone, just the same.

Shaking his head he answered the unasked question. "Didn't find a thing to tell what happened to him. I'll look again tomorrow." Lou bent at the cook fire and took up the smoke blackened tin coffee pot. Pouring himself a cup, he turned to Mary and lifted the pot another inch to see if she wanted some too before setting it back down. He stood before the fire, lifted both elbows to shoulder height and twisted his upper body left, then right and left again, working at the kinks in his back. Having loosened the muscles a bit, he hunkered down on the ground next to Mary.

"I don't really want you to find him, you know," Mary said, her voice flat.

Lou looked up over his mug of coffee and met her eyes. Yes, he knew. She'd told him enough about the lout for him to understand why. Lou wasn't blind to what she did want, either. She'd had her eyes pretty well fixed for some time. Hell, he liked looking at her too. That eyeful he'd gotten of her taking her bath had damn near ruined him. But between being half a gentleman himself and her being the fine lady she was, well, he just wasn't ready to go messing with her. In Lou's experience, women like Mary tended to sink in their hooks. They sweet talked and baked pies and fussed over a man until he got dizzy thinking on them. Usually weren't much in bed either, what with their Puritan ways. Lou preferred a playful poke with a woman. Pay for the pleasure with some coin, yes sir. The marrying kind of woman, they liked roots and he just plain didn't think much of the idea.

There wasn't any denying Mary had a sassy little body. Just thinking on her standing the other side of that blanket wall, water running off her breasts, got him bothered below the belt. Even his fever hadn't spoiled the fun of that. Tarnation, he wouldn't mind having some fun between the sheets. He had no doubt that she was wanting some too. But, Mary was a respectable, well bred young lady. She couldn't allow as to having those kinds of feelings as long as she thought Patrick might still be alive.

All that aside, maybe he'd give her a poke just before he left. Maybe that was really all she wanted. Just someone to hold her like a lady should be held. How much harm could he do giving her something to remember him by. "Sounds like you want me to bring you bad news."

"I don't know what I want." She was keeping her eyes on the fire. "I don't really want him dead. I wouldn't wish that on anyone. But I, well, I have to admit, I don't want him to come back either." She hung her head and wrung her hands. Her auburn hair caught the fire's glow and shone with a thousand lights of red. "Can you understand what I'm saying? He was mean. Down right mean. Only one he ever thought about was himself."

"I'll go look again in the morning. If that campfire I found stomped to pieces was his, he should be somewhere fairly close."

"I just want to know if I'm free." She almost whispered those words, kind of wistful like. Well, like he'd pointed out to himself, she was a lady.

If the man was alive when he found him, Lou would have a choice to make. Might be doing the lady a big favor by finishing what the land started. No way could Patrick be doing much more than breathing, whatever had happened to the scoundrel. It wouldn't take much. Not that Lou was used to killing people. Never had, either, least not on purpose. But Lou wasn't particularly partial to men who dealt with their women the way Mary talked about him doing her. Mary deserved being treated like a lady, not like some two bit whore. She was a fine woman with simple needs. She... Hell, he stopped himself. I sound like some green ass sprout, just taking a tumble for the lady, pretty as you please.

Lucifer would not be still. "Lewellyn P. Greentree won't be finding Patrick alive. No way, and you know it. You're playing games, girl. You want this one to reach for you, so why the hell are you acting as if you don't?"

Mary tossed her freshly brushed auburn hair back over her shoulder and shrugged. It was true. She was not denying her feelings. She was developing a throbbing ache which threatened to take over her senses.

"Well then, quit with the coy bit. Let him see your wondrous, naked splendor. That'll get his pulse going and things growing." Lucifer's cackling laugh filled her head.

"Lucifer! Stop it. You're being absolutely disgusting." Mary slammed her hair brush down on the table. "I am not going to throw myself at him. Even if Patrick is dead, and we don't know that for certain, I am a lady. Why would you have me lower myself to the level of Jenkins and Patrick?"

"Tsk, tsk, now," Lucifer chortled. "If you keep pushing away those nice, moist sensations between your thighs you'll end up like Miss. Hamish. A dried up widow. I'm not telling you to drool over the man. Just announce yourself. The next time he walks through the door, show him some of that luscious white skin you keep so carefully covered up."

"I can't do that!" Mary clamped her hands over her ears. Yet, even as she did so, she acknowledged the swell of heat coursing through her at his suggestions.

Lucifer's voice dropped to a whisper. "Give in to it, my little Mary. Let him sip your sweet nectar. One taste and he'll be yours forever."

"Oh my Heavens," Mary gasped. Barely able to stand from the weakness overtaking her, Mary sank to the floor, a delicate flower gently floating to rest. The flush of desire warming her insides bled away the last of her resistance. Still, Lou must be allowed his own will. She could not force herself on him. "When I take my bath out behind the house this evening, I'll make certain Lou has the opportunity to observe, to either offer himself to me or decline."