A Good Day for a Massacre. William W. Johnstone

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      Slash looked up to see none other than Jaycee herself smiling down at him, one hand on the back of his chair. She was dressed in a beguiling gown, her hair was half up and half down, sprayed across her half-bare and beautifully freckled shoulders, and she looked ravishing already—here with the sun barely up.

      “Jay!” Slash said, immediately chastising himself for sounding like an overeager schoolboy. “What’re you . . . what’re you . . . ?”

      He’d started to rise, but Jay placed a hand on his shoulder and shoved him back down in his chair. “Please, sit. I know, I know—it’s early for me. Believe me, I’d still be sawing logs, but I have a wedding reception at noon to prepare for. No rest for the wicked.”

      “Time for a cup of coffee?” Slash asked, nodding at the steaming server.

      Jay glanced at a clock on the wall, then folded her long, well-formed body into the chair across from Slash. “Indeed, I can. I’m my own boss, aren’t I?”

      “There you go.”

      Slash glanced at the waiter, “Phil, a cup for the boss, will you?”

      The waiter glanced at Jay, smiled, winked, then disappeared into the kitchen.

      Slash sat back in his chair, holding his coffee cup, which he’d just refilled, in both hands. “Did you, uh . . . did you sleep well, Jay?” He felt a vein in his neck flutter.

      She glanced across the table at him, then leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table before her and setting her chin atop the shelf of her entwined fingers. “I did. I was exhausted. Long day . . . as you well know.”

      “Yeah, sure was.”

      Jay smiled her sweet smile. “I took care of everything with Cisco. I mean, Marshal Walsh.”

      “Well, if you know him so well . . .”

      Jay nodded. “I knew he wouldn’t be a problem. He may, in fact, be a valuable friend to you two here in Fort Collins. I know I’ve found him a valuable friend over the years.”

      “You have, have you?”

      “Indeed.”

      “Well, then . . .”

      “He’s agreed to make sure your real names stay out of the papers. I wrote out and signed an affidavit for him last night. Cisco . . . Marshal Walsh”—Jay amended with a coy smile—“thinks that’s probably all we’ll need. He’ll let me know if you need to speak to a coroner’s jury, but he’s going to try and have my statement be the end of it. Jack Penny and the other two men were known outlaws with nasty reputations, so . . .”

      “I didn’t recognize the other two, but I know Penny had some money ridin’ in his hat.”

      “Cisco said the other two were out-of-work, raggedy-heeled former railroad workers who’d been in and out of trouble along the Front Range for the past couple of years. One was wanted for cutting a doxy in Denver, and the other shot a gambler to death up in Leadville.”

      “Well, then . . you an’ Cisco palavered it all out.”

      “Yes.”

      As the waiter delivered Jay’s coffee cup, Slash sipped his own mud and gave a stiff half-smile. Again, he felt that vein in his neck flutter. “I reckon you was up mighty late . . . with ole Cisco. Uh . . . sorry about that.” He dropped his gaze and took another sip of the coffee.

      Jay lifted her cup and blew on her own steaming coffee. “Oh, it’s all right. Cisco and I go way back.”

      “So you said.”

      Jay sipped her coffee, then, setting the cup back down on its saucer, frowned across the table at him. “Slash, is something on your mind?”

      “What’s that?” He cleared a constriction in his throat.

      “You seem . . . well, odd.”

      “Odd?”

      “Oh, I know,” Jay said, lifting her cup again in her pale, elegant hands, the left one adorned with one simple ruby ring set in gold. “You met with Bleed-Em-So. That must be what’s wrong with you. Can you tell me what he wanted? Some new job for you and Pecos? Whatever it is, I hope it’s not too dangerous, Slash.”

      “Oh, nah, nah,” Slash said. “Pretty simple, really. I won’t bore you with the details. We’ll be cuttin’ out purty soon. In fact . . .” He took a large, quick sip of his coffee. “I prob’ly best be pullin’ my picket pin. Pecos is prob—”

      Jay reached across the table to place her hand on his. “Slash, what’s wrong?”

      He frowned over his cup at her. “What do you mean?”

      Jay returned his puzzled frown, though he vaguely opined that hers probably looked more authentic. “You’re wondering about Cisco Walsh and me, aren’t you?” She probed him more intensely with her stony, dark pupils. “That’s what’s bothering you, isn’t it?”

      “Ah, hell!” Slash said a little too loudly. “No, you got me wrong, Jay. Cisco—he looks like a right nice fella. Big and tall and broad-shouldered. Handsome as all get-out, I’m sure. Wears a polished badge. Tailor-cut suit made special. Has him a good upstandin’ badge pinned to his vest. I’m sure he’s right enticin’ to a purty woman like yourself. A good man all around.”

      Jay’s expression changed from curiosity to incredulity. She set her coffee cup back down in its saucer, leaned back in her chair, and crossed her arms on the low-cut bodice of her dress. Her cheeks paled a little, and her lids hooded her eyes severely. “What if he did?”

      “What’s that?”

      “What if he did look right enticin’ to me?”

      Jay paused, continuing to probe Slash with her gaze. He felt himself shrinking a little against it, his shoulders tightening, drawing closer together. That vein in his neck was writhing around like a rattler coming out of hibernation. He wished it would go back to sleep. He tried to say something, but the constriction had returned to his throat.

      “Slash?”

      He returned his gaze to her pointed one.

      “How would you feel if I told you I fancied Cisco Walsh?” Keeping her eyes on his, Jay tucked her bottom lip under her top lip for a moment, then drew a shallow breath. “How would you feel if I told you that Cisco has told me that he fancies me, and that we’ve agreed to spend some time together? Some romantic time together. To see where it led us.” Again, she paused, making Slash’s heart flutter. He felt like a bug on a pin held up for close scrutiny. “How would you feel about that, Slash Braddock?”

      CHAPTER 10

      Slash stared back at Jay, sitting across the table from him. It was hard to hold her gaze. Her eyes were almost as hard and severe as that of an angry, challenging schoolmarm.

      “How would I feel?” he croaked.

      “Yes,” СКАЧАТЬ