Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

by Purple Les

The next morning found The Tequila Kid up early. She went to the wash house and showered, then came back to the house refreshed, dressed and wearing her guns, to find Clementine on her way to wash up. “There’s coffee on the stove. Help yourself, Kid.” Clem said as she walked past The Kid in her robe, a towel draped over her arm.

The Kid found herself wishing that she’d known to time things a little differently, so she could have showered with Clementine. Shrugging, she poured herself some coffee and took a seat on the porch, relaxing as she sipped from her cup, thinking about what she’d seen the night before.

A few minutes later, a freshly scrubbed Clementine returned from the wash house. “I’ll be dressed shortly, and then we can talk,” Clem told The Kid. Soon she returned in a pretty green dress, the coffee pot in her hand. She topped up The Kid’s cup, poured some for herself, then pulled a chair up next to The Kid, They drank in silence for a little bit, enjoying the short-lived cool of the morning.

“I can tell that you love your girls in a very special way, Clem,” The Kid murmured. “Just want you to know that I don’t see nothin’ wrong with that… nothin’ at all.”

Clementine stared at The Kid, uncertain of what she was getting at.

“Well, now,” The Kid continued, “I could be mistaken about you and the girls, but I don’t think so.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Clementine said, a hint of fear creeping into her voice.

“Y’see,” the Kid continued, “Lots of men or women lose their mate. They need the comfort that their mate used to give ’em… and they have children. With some of these folks, they end up takin’ that comfort with the child. You get me?”

Clem shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “No, I don’t.”

“Let me try to explain it better, then,” The Kid continued. “I seen fathers with their daughters, even their sons. I seen mothers with their sons, too…”

Feeling a rising horror, Clementine put a hand over her mouth. Had the Kid discovered her secret?

“There was a couple times where the kids didn’t like what was happening.” The Kid said. “But mostly it was somethin’ of a good, happy feelin’, between the parent and child.”

Reaching for Clementine’s hand, The Kid said, “Tell ya what, though — The happiest that I’ve seen is when it happens between a mother and her daughter.” She gave Clem’s hand a soft squeeze and said, “Like I said, I could be wrong, but I think maybe you take comfort with your girls. I ain’t sayin’ it’s a bad thing, mind you… just that I understand.”

The Kid went back to sipping her coffee while Clementine tried to grasp the enormity of what the Kid had just said. Her mind was in a whirl, and all she wanted right then was to escape. “I — I best see the girls are up,” she mumbled, then rose from her seat and hastened into the house.

Clementine’s heart was pounding; so was her head. How does she know about me and the girls? Did she just guess? Did… did Mimi or Susie tell her about us, the things we do?

She found herself wondering about something else The Kid said. Had she really witnessed that kind of love between mother and daughter? She doesn’t seem disgusted with the idea. I wonder… has she ever been with a woman before? Or… a young girl?

Mounting the stairs, Clem halted in mid-step, suddenly remembering what the girls had told her last night. I think Arabella likes to have fun the same way we do, Ma. She loved being naked with us.

Could it be…? Clementine wondered. Are The Kid and Arabella sweethearts? Have they made love?

Somehow, it made perfect sense. Her heart raced anew as she considered what that might mean. For her, for them all.

Taking hold of herself, Clem shook her head to clear it, then resumed her journey upstairs. An interesting notion, she thought, one we’ll look into later. Not a word to the girls, though. Not till I’m certain.

Rousing the girls, she got them up and moving, then went back downstairs to get started on breakfast. Afterwards, Mimi and Susie did their chores, then Clementine gave them their school lessons for the day. All the while, Clem was thinking about the evening to come.

*****

Arabella had begged Clementine to let her have a good look around the ranch grounds, and her aunt, after some deliberation, had agreed. So when the old cowpoke Slim came by to check on things, and relieve the ranch hand who’d kept watch on the house the night before, Arabella was ready for him.

“Please, Slim. Aunt Clem said it would be all right.” Arabella begged, hands clasped before her. “Didn’t she say that, Kid?”

“Well, now, I reckon that is the truth. I did hear Clem say that,” The Kid said as they advanced toward the stable.

Slim couldn’t help but smile. “Then I guess that’s what we’ll do, since Mrs Clem gave the okay,” he said as he opened up the stable doors.

“Oh, thank you, Slim, thank you!” Arabella cried, practically skipping with glee.

“Lemme saddle up a horse for you, young lady.” Slim said, “Then we’ll have us a nice ride to the ranch.” The Kid went along with them, intending to take the borrowed horse and buggy back to Pablo’s.

Glancing at the saddle rack, Slim said, “Susie’s saddle should just ‘bout fit you, I think. But I’ll put it on Mimi’s horse — she’s a real gentle ride.”

The Kid hitched up the horse and buggy while Slim prepared the horse for Arabella, then assisted the young girl into the saddle.

“See ya later!” Arabella shouted as The Kid headed down the road in the buggy, waving as she went.

Slim mounted his horse. “Well, now, young lady,” he said, “Are you ready to see some sights?”

“Yes, let’s go!” said the girl, taking up the reins. With that, Slim set off on the trail to the ranch, Arabella close behind.

*****

After leaving Kingsley the night before, Frank Sims had gone straight to the livery stable and saddled his horse. It was a couple of hours before sunup, and he was impatient to get moving. A solution to his problem was in sight, and Sims couldn’t rest easy until he’d done what needed doing.

Sims had drunk the best part of a fifth of Kingsley’s whiskey, but the cool morning ride toward the DuMount ranch cleared his head some. Along the way, he thought about what kind of accident he could cause for the little girl.

There ain’t quite as much pleasure to take in the killin’ of a child, he told himself, but be damned if I’ll let anyone live to get me hung.

Sims hitched his horse to a tree about a half mile from the ranch. Climbing a hill set between the ranch house and the ranch proper, he’d watched the place since dawn through his battered spyglass. His patience was rewarded an hour or so later, when he saw Arabella and an old cowhand a ride off towards the ranch.

Hastening down the hill, he made his way to a ridge just above where the trail ran, where he lay in wait, grinning ferociously. Them two is about to have a fatal accident, he told himself with a satisfied nod. And I’ll be long gone before the bodies get found.

*****

Just after dawn, Ramses Kingsley had taken a horse from the livery stable. He’d told the stable man that he was taking a ride to get some fresh air, maybe hunt a little game. Kingsley brought his Henry .44 repeating rifle with him. Before long, he was near the DuMount ranch.

*****

Concealed behind some brush, Sims waited for Arabella and the old cowpoke to show. He had loosened a small boulder and was ready to push it down the hill as the riders approached.

Simple, now, Frank Sims thought. Roll the boulder down and spook the horses, then jump down and club ‘em both with a rock. He recognized the old cowhand, though he couldn’t recall the man’s name. One thing for sure, he’s too old to put up much of a fight. Kill him first, then take care of the girl.

He felt that familiar tingling in his right hand, that delicious sensation of power he always got when there was killing to be done.

Hearing the clatter of hoofbeats approach the bend. Sims braced himself.

*****

As Slim and Arabella came around the bend the boulder came hurtling down toward them, hitting the ground with a loud thud, followed by a shower of clattering small rocks and stones. Arabella’s horse reared in terror, and the girl was thrown. She hit the ground hard, knocking the wind out of her. Quickly dismounting, Slim raced toward the girl.

Frank Sims came running down the hill, unnoticed by the others in the excitement. Seizing Slim’s arm, he spun the older man around to face him.

Slim saw that the big man had his other arm raised, and was clutching a rock. He jerked away from the man’s grip, enough so that the rock hit him in the shoulder instead of his head.

Enraged, Frank yanked Slim’s arm so violently that it dislocated his shoulder. Though blinded by pain, Slim still managed to land a haymaker to Frank’s jaw with his other arm, then broke away, falling to his knees. He drew his gun, but Frank kicked the man in the chest and the gun went flying.

Though the attacker was twice his size, Slim was determined to protect Arabella. Launching himself at the big man, he got a useless punch in before Frank grabbed Slim’s throat, shook him like a rag doll, then sent him sprawling in the dirt. Taking a deep breath, Frank bent to pick up another rock, striding over to where the panting cowhand lay, struggling to rise.

Sims raised the rock high over his head, ready to bring it down — then a familiar clicking sound froze the man to the spot. He slowly turned to look.

Arabella had picked up Slim’s pistol and cocked the hammer back. Now she held it in her shaking hands, arms extended straight out. The tip of Arabella’s tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth as she drew a bead on Frank — staring down the sight on the gun’s barrel, just like The Kid had taught her.

Frank glared at the girl. “Now you best be careful there,” he growled, quiet menace in his voice.

Arabella squeezed the trigger and the gun roared, knocking her to the ground. The pistol flew from her hands, landing several feet away.

Frank screamed like a wild animal, clutching the side of his head. Bringing his hand away, he stared in disbelief at the blood that coated his fingers, then touched the damaged area again. His eyes widened in rage.

“You little bitch! You done shot my ear off!” the big man bellowed. “That’s it, you’re both gonna fuckin’ die! I don’t care how it looks, neither,” The blood was streaming down the side of his neck.

With his last remaining strength, Slim Green crawled toward the gun.

Reaching down, Frank grabbed Arabella’s hair with his bloody hand, lifting the sobbing girl up from the ground. Seeing Slim from the corner of his eye, he kicked the gun farther away.

Frank wrapped his other hand around Arabella’s throat. Staring into the terrified child’s eyes, he hissed, “I’m gonna love killin’ you. I just wish I had time to shove my pecker in your cunt first.”

Suddenly, a shot rang out. Frank’s face had a startled look, like he was trying to remember something. Dropping the girl, he took two steps, then crashed to the ground, his chest a bloody ruin.

Arabella and Slim both looked toward the sound of the shot. Ramses Kingsley was slowly walking toward them, carrying a rifle. Ejecting the spent shell with a quick thrust of the arm, he smiled.

*****

The Tequila Kid had returned the horse and buggy to Pablo at his blacksmith shop in Oak Creek. They were sitting by his forge, catching up on old times. Pablo’s wife Marguerite brought them lunch — hot tortillas with peppers and strips of roasted pork.

After lunch, The Kid made her goodbyes to Pablo and his family, then strolled across the deadline to the white side of town. She saw Deputy Ritter sitting in front of the sheriff’s office and came over to greet him. They made small talk while the Kid rolled a cigarette, seating herself on the steps before lighting up. As she finished her smoke, they both saw the wagon come racing down the street and stood up together.

The Kid’s blood froze at what she saw.

It was a wagon from Clementine’s ranch. Sitting up front with the reins in his hands was Ramses Kingsley, Clementine seated beside him. Next to her was Arabella, clutching her aunt’s arm and crying. Another horse was tied to the back of the wagon and following — Kingsley’s, The Kid assumed.

Kingsley reined the horse in and put the brake on for the wagon.

As the deputy and The Kid raced toward the scene, Clementine cried, “We need the doctor!” Sheriff Milligan was now by the wagon, along with a lot of onlookers who’d seen the commotion and come to investigate.

“I’ll get Doc Stone,” the deputy said and ran off.

“In the back, Sheriff,” Kingsley said.

The sheriff and The Kid looked in the back of the wagon, both wincing as they saw a battered, deathly-pale Slim, gasping for breath. Next to him lay something — or someone — covered with thick canvas.

As the doctor got to the wagon he frowned, seeing Slim. “We got to get this man to my office straight away.”

Sheriff Milligan raised his arms to silence the crowd. “Some of you boys carry Slim there to the doc’s office.” Several men reached in to take hold of the old cowhand. “Take it easy with him, damn it.” Turning back to the wagon, he pulled back the top of the canvas with the Kid looking over his shoulder, revealing the corpse of Frank Sims. Curling his lip in disgust, he covered the dead man’s face. “Damn his black soul,” he muttered. He looked up at Arabella, still shivering in her aunt’s arms. “Does she need the doc too?” the sheriff asked Clementine.

“Not like Slim does,” Clementine said.

Sheriff Milligan stroked his mustache. “I think we’d all better go to my office.” he finally said.

In the sheriff’s office, Arabella climbed into Clementine’s lap, nestling there. She was bruised and shaken up, and had lost some hair on her scalp, leaving a raw-looking circle the size of a silver dollar. Kingsley took a chair somewhat away from the others. The sheriff seated his bulk behind the desk, while The Kid and the deputy stood nearby.

“What happened, Mrs. DuMount?” the sheriff asked.

“Well,” Clementine hesitantly began, “From what Slim and Arabella have been able to tell me, they were attacked by Frank Sims.”

The sheriff looked at Kingsley. “That so?”

Her face puffy from crying, Arabella looked up and said, “Slim and me were riding, and a b-big boulder come down the hill. My horse spooked and threw me. Then” — she sniffled — “then Slim and the big Indian man was fighting.”

“Indian man?” the sheriff said. “You mean Frank Sims.”

“Frank was an Indian?” said Kingsley, furrowing his brow. “Not sure I catch your meaning.”

The Kid spoke up, “Arabella said the men that attacked her family on the trail out of Adobe Wells was Indians. But they was really white men dressed as Indians, and Frank Sims was one of ‘em.”

“Yes.” Arabella said, “That big man. He was gonna kill Slim. But I g-got hold of Slim’s gun and — and took a shot at him.”

“You killed Sims?” the sheriff asked in surprise.

“Perhaps I could shed a little light here, Sheriff Milligan,” Kingsley said in a cool, steady voice. “I was out riding and heard what I thought was a rock slide, then shouting. Naturally, I went to take a look. As I got closer, I saw this man Slim and Frank, fighting. Then the little girl drew a gun on Frank and fired, but only managed to clip him — in fact, she shot his ear off. That sent Frank into a frenzy, and he snatched the girl up by her hair. It was clear that he meant to kill her, so I fired my rifle. I killed Sims.”

They all stared at Kingsley, who calmly continued. “I rode to the DuMount ranch for help, and here we are.”

“Is that about right, Arabella?” the sheriff asked, still looking thoughtfully at Kingsley.

“Yes, sir,” Arabella answered. Deputy Ritter made a pot of coffee while the sheriff began to take notes. Kingsley, Clementine and the sheriff had some coffee once it was brewed.

“How was it you happened to be out that way, Kingsley?” Milligan asked.

“Just taking a ride. Thought I might try to get some game.” Kingsley answered. “Lately, I’ve had a hankering for venison.”

The sheriff was toying with his mustache again. “Well, I reckon that we know why Sims did what he did. He aimed to get rid of the main witness in his murder trial.” He gazed sorrowfully at Arabella. “Little lady, I’m mighty regretful about all this.”

“He can’t hurt anyone else now,” Arabella spoke quietly, staring down at her hands.

Kingsley shrugged. “I thought I knew the man… clearly, I misjudged his character.” He sighed.  “Sheriff, have Frank’s body taken to the undertaker. I’ll pay for his funeral.” He paused, then added, “I would think that since Frank is dead, his bail money will be returned to me.”

Sheriff Milligan gave Kingsley a disgusted look, but opened the safe and gave Kingsley his thousand dollars back after doing some brief paperwork.

Just then, Doc Stone entered. “Coffee’s still hot, Hiram — get you a cup,” said the sheriff. “How’s Slim?”

“No coffee, thanks — maybe later,” Stone said, “Slim’s busted up kind of bad, but he’ll be okay.” Clementine sighed with relief as the doctor added, “He’ll have to stay put for a few days. I figure by Friday, he can go back to the bunkhouse and finish mending there. Right now, though,” he set his black bag down on a nearby table, “I want to take a look at that girl’s head.”

He seated Arabella on a chair near the window, where the light was strong, then carefully checked her scalp. Taking a bottle from his bag, the doctor said, “Now this will sting you some, but I have to clean the place where the patch of hair got pulled out.”

Arabella winced, squeezing Clementine’s hand while the doctor cleaned the small head wound. “That’s got it,” he finally said. “Now, I’ll make sure you didn’t break any bones.” He gently felt around the little girl’s body, then checked her bruises.

“Well, now,” Doc Stone said, “you just let this young lady rest for a day or two, and she’ll be right as rain. And keep that bare patch dry for a week or so.” He picked up his bag. “I better get back and check on Slim. He fainted dead away when I popped his shoulder back into place.”

“Kid, I want to go see Slim. Will you ride back to the ranch with us?” Clementine asked.

“I will.” The Kid answered. Kneeling next to Arabella’s chair, she smiled at the still-dazed child, taking her hand. “You done good, Button. I reckon Slim woulda got killed if you hadn’t been brave.”

Arabella gave a shaky smile. “I don’t feel so brave.”

“Tell you a little secret,” The Kid murmured. “It’s all right to be scared after it’s all over. What you do when somethin’ needs to be done, that’s what counts. And you stood up to Frank Sims. Saved a good man’s life. That makes you a hero, far as I’m concerned.”

The girl extended her arms toward The Kid, who enfolded her in a tender embrace. She kissed Arabella’s cheek, then stood, suddenly feeling bashful when she noticed Clementine watching them. “Um, you two go on ahead,” she said. “I’ll just be a minute.”

Clementine gave her a mysterious smile, then placed a hand on Arabella’s shoulder. “Let’s go see Slim, sweetheart.” The girl slowly stood, and Clem escorted her out as the deputy held the door.

Sheriff Milligan settled back in his chair, a scowl on his lips. “You stay in town for a couple days, Kingsley. I’ll probably have some more questions.”

Kingsley gave a small bow. “I am at your disposal, Sheriff.” He turned to The Kid. “Would you spare me a moment? I’d like to discuss something with you.”

The Kid had stayed behind intending to speak with Sheriff Milligan, but her curiosity was aroused by Kingsley’s request. “I can give ya ’bout fifteen minutes. Don’t wanna keep Mrs. DuMount nor Arabella waitin’ on me.”

Kingsley smiled. “My office is close by. Shall we?”

Without a word, The Kid followed the man up to his quarters.

Seating himself behind his big desk, Kingsley produced a cut glass decanter and two glasses. He carefully poured whiskey into each glass, then pushed one across the desk to where The Kid now sat.

“Much obliged.” The Kid said. Sipping from the glass, she nodded. “That’s some mighty fine whiskey.”

“Kentucky bourbon,” said Kingsley. “Aged twelve years. A business associate of mine owns a distillery in Lawrenceburg. He owes me money, and I take my payments in liquid form.” Chuckling, he took a swallow from his glass.

The Kid took out her makings and began to roll a cigarette. Placing a paper in her left hand, she sprinkled a generous pinch of tobacco in it. As she pulled the pouch closed with her teeth and stuffed it back in her vest pocket, she deftly rolled the cigarette with her left hand, then licked it closed.

Kingsley opened his humidor. Taking out a cigar, he offered it to The Kid. “Try one of these. They come from Havana, Cuba… the only ones you’ll find west of the Mississippi.”

The Kid said, “Well, I don’t smoke ‘em. I got me a friend who loves a good cigar, though. Mind if I take one for him?”

“Take two. In case you change your mind and want to try one. You’ll never enjoy a sweeter smoke.”

“Mighty kind of you,” The Kid, said putting two of the cigars in her top vest pocket. “You do surprise me, Mr. Kingsley.”

“Please, call me Ramses.” Kingsley said, bringing his smile into play. “Surprise you how?” Snipping the tip off his cigar with a tiny scissors, Kingsley placed it in his mouth and lit it.

The Kid flicked a matchstick to life with her thumbnail and lit her cigarette, then blew the match out, never breaking eye contact with Kingsley. “See, I would of figured you to wait till after Sims killed the girl before you shot him dead. Two birds, one stone sort of thing. Then that gold mine would be all yours, and through no fault of your own.”

Kingsley narrowed his cold gray eyes at The Kid as he blew a smoke ring toward the ceiling. “Well, I thought letting the girl die might look too…” He searched for the right word, taking another pull from his cigar. “Let’s just say I thought it best to keep her alive. I might try my luck at asking for her aunt’s hand… she’s still a fetching woman, after all. At any rate, perhaps the fact that I did save her from Sims will make you a little more receptive to an offer I have for you.”

“What kind of offer?” the Kid asked, taking a deep drag on her cigarette.

Letting his cigar rest in the ashtray, Kingsley folded his hands. “Let me put my cards on the table, Kid.” He paused, weighing his words. “That contract for the gold mine has me paying for the expense of it, but only getting twenty percent of the profit. Hardly fair, don’t you think?”

The Kid shrugged. “Hell, you signed it.” Leaning back in the chair, she propped her dirty boots up on the mahogany desk, enjoying the brief flash of annoyance that appeared on Kingsley’s face. She took another warm slug of whiskey, idly studying the glowing tip on the end of her smoke.

“Be that as it may,” Kingsley said, “I have to make the best of a bad deal. Now, here’s my offer. You have four bags of gold in your possession, property of the Adobe Wells bank. If you hand two of those bags over to me, I can use them to get the mine running. That leaves you with half the gold… and I’ll make you a silent partner in the mine, at five percent of the profits. The Hodgkiss girl will never know. She’ll be rich and happy, not a care in the world. Then, once things are up and running at the mine, I can get myself into Mrs. DuMount’s good graces.”

The Kid reached out, setting her empty glass on the desk. Kingsley refilled it, then added some to his own. Sitting back, he took a sip, waiting for the young woman to respond.

“Well, now,” The Kid said, wearing her best poker face, “that does sound like a generous offer.” She was fuming inside, but managed to keep her voice calm and even. Leaning in, she squashed the butt of her cigarette in Kingsley’s ashtray. “Only trouble is… I ain’t got the gold.”

“Now, Kid,” said Kingsley, wagging his finger, “Let’s be frank with one another. As I understand it, you caught the bank robbers in the act, then took the gold. Charlie Redeye found two dead men in the badlands who’d been chasing you. It wasn’t with them. And I know that not one of those bags been returned to the bank in Adobe Wells. No, my friend — you still have that gold.”

“That’s a fair guess, Ramses.” The Kid said, taking a sip of her drink. “Thing is, Charlie lied to Sims about that. He took the gold himself.” The Kid reached into her vest pocket and took something out, holding it tightly in her hand. “When I looked at Charlie’s body, the Doc let me see his belongings. I looked in his medicine pouch. Most Indians carry one, y’know. They’re usually filled with some ash, maybe a feather, a bit of fur or a small piece of bone.”

As Kingsley stared at her, The Kid continued. “When I picked up Charlie’s medicine pouch, it was pretty heavy. Here’s why.” The Kid opened her hand to reveal a very large gold nugget, which she placed on the desk in front of Kingsley. “I found that inside. That’s how I know he had the gold.”

The Kid paused, reaching for the decanter and refilling her glass, then Kingsley’s. “Here’s what I think happened. See, I got pinned down in the badlands by them two holdup men. My horse was dead. So was one of theirs. We had us a stand off. They said if I gave ‘em the gold, I could walk away. So that’s what I done.”

They both drank, then the Kid said, “Maybe one of ‘em wanted to get the gold back to his boss and the other didn’t. Maybe they wanted to split it and head for parts unknown, only one of ‘em got greedy. Maybe they fought over the horse, or the gold, or both. Whatever it was, they drew and shot each other dead.”

Kingsley held his glass up, staring thoughtfully at the amber fluid. It could have gone that way, he mused.

The Kid paused to finish her drink. “So here comes Charlie Redeye, trackin’ me for Frank Sims. He finds two dead horses, two dead men and four bags of gold. He takes the gold, but keeps on his trackin’ job, ‘cause he knows Sims will give him big money for the girl.”

Kingsley took a puff on his cigar. The Kid leaned forward in her chair and said, “Charlie caught up with me, but I got the drop on him and drugged him up good, then he couldn’t help but talk. He told me a big man would pay him plenty money for killin’ that girl.” The Kid picked up her empty glass and turned it upside down on the desk.

“What I reckon,” she went on, “is that Charlie lied to Sims. He told Sims the girl was dead and he didn’t find no gold. He’d get his money from Sims and still have them four bags of gold for himself.”

The Kid shook her head. “Charlie said somethin’ about how he left it with the Hodgekiss family. Till he could go for it.” Slumping down in the chair, she sighed. “I reckon that means he hid it where they was killed, but who knows where that is? Sims knew, but he’s dead now. Charlie found ‘em cause he was a good tracker, and he’s dead, too. By the time I found Arabella, that little girl had no idea where she was. I tried to get her to help me find the place, but we just ended up goin’ in circles. So that gold is out there in the badlands somewhere… but be damned if I know any more than that.”

Pushing her chair back, The Kid stood. “So, thanks for the offer. But I can’t help you.” Smiling wryly, she pointed at the gold nugget resting on the desk. “Tell you what, Ramses… you can keep that. Guess  it’ll be your share of the gold.” Chuckling, she clapped her battered hat on her head and walked out without a backward glance.

Kingsley stared at the nugget. If the Kid was telling the truth, and he thought she was, then that gold was out there. The little girl had no idea where she’d been. No one was left alive to know the location of the murder site.

No one but Ramses Kingsley, he thought, grinning excitedly.

*****

The Kid went to Doc Stone’s to wish Slim well, then she got on the wagon with Clementine and Arabella and drove it back out to the ranch. Once they’d arrived, Clementine took Arabella upstairs to lie down and rest. Clementine had Susie and Mimi start dinner, after telling them everything that happened in town. The mood in the house was a subdued one as Clem and the Kid sat side by side on the front porch.

Finally, The Kid turned to Clem. “I’ll be leavin’ tomorrow at sunup,” she said flatly.

Clementine was shocked. “Why, what do you mean, Kid?” she asked. “You’ve only been here one night!”

The Kid smiled at her. “It’s just for a few days, Clem. I’ll be back, promise. Got some work to take care of.”

Clementine nodded. “Walk with me before you go. I have something to ask you.”

Clem led the Kid up a hill to a tall oak tree. They sat together on a bench and looked at two stone grave markers. “My husband’s buried there.” Clementine said, gesturing toward the larger marker. “That other grave is for the child I lost between Mimi and Susie.”

The Kid wasn’t sure what to say, so she remained silent.

Clementine took The Kid’s hand. “If it’s possible, I’d like my sister and her family to be buried here. I’ve made arrangements for my nephew Dan and my mother’s body to be moved here soon, but… “ Her eyes began to water. “We’re already deep in your debt, Kid, I know that. But if you could see your way to bringing the remains of our kinfolk back to us, it would mean more to me than anything…”

“Don’t say another word, Clem. I can do that for you. I’ll be needin’ to borrow a good horse for four or five days.”

“Anything I have is yours.”

The Kid stroked her chin. “I’ll need me some supplies too.”

“I’ll pay for them. Whatever you want.”

They stood, and Clementine led the Kid back down the hill. As they walked arm in arm, Clem asked, “How did you know about me and my daughters? That’s not why you’re leaving, is it?”

“Shucks, no,” The Kid answered. She felt her cheeks get hot as she said, “Guess I oughta confess, Clem. I saw the three of you last night. I sleep kinda light and, well…” She was horribly embarrassed, but knew that she had to be truthful. “Y’see, somethin’ woke me up, and I thought maybe someone had broke in. I never would of peeked through your keyhole, not if I’d knowed for certain that you and the girls weren’t in some kind of danger.” She fell silent, then added, “Anyhow, I only looked for a little while…”

Now it was Clementine’s turn to blush. “Oh, my. You don’t think badly of us?”

“I can see your girls is good girls… and you’re a mighty fine momma. You got no reason to be ashamed. And I think you’ll find out if you give her the chance, Arabella would like to do that sort of thing with the three of you.”

Clementine nodded. “My girls seem to believe something like that. Why do you think so?”

“Well… just between you and me, Clem, Arabella told me how she used to play petting games with her sister. And while we was on the trail, sometimes she and I had us a little innocent fun. The same kind of fun you like to have with your girls.”

Clementine’s eyes suddenly sparkled. “I’m glad to hear that.” By then, they were back inside the ranch. “I’ve got to get supper done now. We’ll be eating in about ten minutes. Thank you, Kid, for your, um, insight.” Drawing close, she gave the younger woman a gentle kiss, then made her way into the kitchen.

The Kid watched as Clementine put on an apron, absently touching her lips where they’d been kissed. After a moment, she went upstairs and into the room where Arabella lay sleeping.

The Kid softly kissed the young girl’s cheek, then watched Arabella’s eyes flutter open.

“How you feelin’ now?” The Kid asked as the child rubbed sleep from her eyes.

“My head stings some. And I feel kinda sore.”

The Kid had taken some herbs and a small clay jar of ointment from her saddlebags. “This’ll take the sting out,” she said, gently rubbing the ointment she’d made into the scraped spot on Arabella’s head.

“Smells funny,” Arabella said, making a face.

“That’s how you know it works,” The Kid replied. She gently brushed and combed Arabella’s hair to remove the bits of dried blood caught in it — some of it hers, the rest belonging to Frank Sims. That done, The Kid poured some water from a porcelain pitcher into a glass, then added the herbs to it, She offered the glass to the girl, saying, “Drink this all the way down, then you’ll sleep sound tonight and feel fine in the mornin’.”

Arabella grimaced after she’d drained the glass, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Oooggghh.”

The Kid smiled. “Let’s go down now, Button. Supper’s almost ready.”

*****

After a quiet supper, The Kid took Arabella up to bed. Tucking the girl in, she told Arabella, “I’ve got to go away for a few days, Button. You’ll be safe here with your Aunt Clem.”

Arabella peppered her with questions, but The Kid refused to answer any of them, just said, “I got some work to get done. I’ll be back to see you after that.”

The child wasn’t satisfied with that reply, but The Kid’s herbs were already doing their work. Arabella yawned once, then fell sound asleep. Stripping naked, The Kid climbed into bed, cradling the girl to her.

The Kid awakened just before dawn. Sitting up, she bent to kiss Arabella’s forehead. She whispered to the sleeping girl, “I made a bad mistake yesterday, Button. I never should’ve left you alone. I oughta have been there to take out Sims and that rat bastard Kingsley. I’m gonna make it right, though. I swear it.” The Kid looked at Arabella one last time and whispered, soft as a sigh, “If I don’t make it back, I hope somewhere deep inside, you know how much I love you.”

Quietly dressing, The Kid took her gear downstairs and outdoors before anyone else was up. The Kid saddled up the horse that Clementine had told her to use — a handsome red sorrel, the best steed on the ranch — and rode off out to town before moving on.

*****

Two days later, Ramses Kingsley had packed most of his belongings onto a wagon. He’d withdrawn all his money from the bank, and sold off most of his local business interests, all but his share of the mine.

He was headed for a certain spot near Adobe Wells, the one where Charlie Redeye had hidden the four bags of gold. Once he had that, he’d maybe head for San Francisco. Maybe Mexico. He’d decide later, once the gold was his.

He’d heard the Tequila Kid had left town, and that did a lot to ease his mind. As his wagon rolled down the dusty road, Kingsley lit a cigar, thinking about how he’d be a rich man in a day or two.

On to Chapter Eleven!