“Glad you could join us, John. I forgot to tell you that my daughter would be here.”

  “It was a pleasant surprise, Bill.”

  Lorelei smiled at him and Slocum smiled back.

  Slocum sat down between Bill and Lorelei. Hardesty reached into an inside pocket of his coat and produced an envelope which he handed to Slocum.

  “As agreed,” he said.

  Slocum slipped the envelope inside his coat.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “What will you have to drink, John?” Hardesty asked.

  “Straight Kentucky whiskey.”

  “Ah, a man after my own heart, John.” Hardesty signaled for a waiter. When one came over, Hardesty ordered two whiskies for himself and Slocum and a glass of Char donnay for his daughter. When the drinks came, Hardesty ordered supper and the fare sounded good to Slocum.

  “Hungry?” Hardesty asked.

  “I could eat the southbound end of a northbound horse,” Slocum said. “Begging your pardon, ma’am.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to worry about Lorelei, John. She’s heard it all.”

  “And said it all,” she said.

  Slocum laughed.

  “John,” she said. “May I call you John?”

  “Sure,” Slocum said.

  “I want you to look at that table over there.” She crooked her neck to indicate where Slocum should look, without pointing with her finger.

  Slocum looked in that direction.

  “You might be interested in what’s going on down here in our neck of the woods,” she said. “That man in the dark suit is our local banker, Frank Rankins. He’s very rich. Across the table from Frank—the man wearing the colorful shirt and the bolo tie—is a man named Norville Granby, Frank’s client. The woman sitting next to Granby, wearing that beautiful gown, is his wife, Cordelia. They’re from Colorado.”

  “Lorelei,” Hardesty warned.

  “Oh, Daddy, it’s common knowledge.”

  Slocum had no idea what they were talking about. But he looked at Norville and his beautiful wife Cordelia. They did seem to stand out.

  Lorelei went on, blithely ignoring her father’s admonition.

  “Granby is buying a hundred thousand acres of land next to our ranch,” she said. “But apparently, he doesn’t have all the money. So he’s trying to arrange a short-term loan for the remainder from Mr. Rankins.”

  Slocum tasted the whiskey. It was warm in his throat. He wondered why Lorelei was telling him about these people. After tonight, he’d never see any of them again. He tried to look interested.

  “He wants to move his cattle holdings down here from Colorado,” Lorelei continued, “but he’s run into a snag up in Colorado. He needs a six-month loan. He says the sale of his property up north ought to be completed well before that time.”

  “Lorelei,” Hardesty said. “Why are you telling our guest all this? It’s a private matter between the Granbys and Mr. Rankins.”

  “Because Cordelia saw the Arabian stallion John brought down today and she said she and her husband need a man to wrangle their horses, some forty or fifty head that they want to bring down here. I just thought John might be interested.”

  Hardesty looked at Slocum.

  “Well, John, are you? There’s something mighty fishy about those Coloradoans.”

  “Daddy, whatever do you mean?” Lorelei said.

  “Granby’s buying a chunk of land right across from the Mexican border. It’s almost useless for raising cattle. And it’ll be costly to make it into good grazing land. He’ll have a hell of a lot of fencing to do between that land and my spread. He’ll need to plant hardy grass that would probably have to be imported from Africa, and while that’s growing, his ten thousand head will be either starving to death or breaking down fences to graze on my land.”

  “Oh, Daddy, you’re such a pessimist. You always look at the bad side of things.”

  “I try to look at the practical side. I wonder if Rankins knows what he’s buying into.”

  Slocum noticed a man sitting alone at a table. The man kept looking at the entrance to the dining room as if he were expecting someone. Like the Granbys, he didn’t seem to fit in with the crowd in the hotel. He stood out like a sore thumb with his ill-fitting new suit. He wore a bandanna around his neck as if he were expecting a sand-storm to blow through the room at any moment. His long hair drooped down the back in a single braid that reached nearly to his waist. His skin was the color of tea, dark tea, so that Slocum thought he might be a half-breed, part Indian, but not Mexican. Slocum could not tell if he was armed, since he wore a waistcoat, which was the color of cream. He had no food in front of him and seemed to be nursing a cup of coffee. Slocum could see the steam rise when the man brought the cup to his lips.

  Slocum forgot about the lone man when the waiter served their food. He looked down at his plate. Like the others, it was covered with hot carne asada, papas fritas, frijoles rojos, seasoned beefsteak cut into thin strips, fried potatoes and red beans. Slocum finished his whiskey and put a napkin on his lap. Hardesty made small talk during the meal and then ordered coffee and brandy.

  While they were waiting for their drinks, Slocum offered Hardesty a cheroot. Hardesty took it. Slocum put one in his mouth and saw Hardesty fish out a matchbox and strike one on the sandpaper side.

  “Aren’t you going to offer me one, John?” Lorelei asked.

  “Lorelei,” Hardesty snapped, a frown on his face.

  “I’d like to try one,” she said.

  Slocum reached into his pocket and slipped out another cigar. He was getting low; he’d have to buy more before he left town. And a bottle of whiskey, too, while he was at it.

  Hardesty lit their cheroots. Slocum leaned back and looked at the man sitting by himself again. The man was still staring at the entrance, as if waiting for someone.

  Then, a woman, very well dressed in a tight-fitting dark dress with lace above the bodice, swept into the room and walked over to the man’s table. A veil softly obscured her face. Without a word, she held out her hand. He took it and stood up.

  The band was playing a slow reel and the couple joined others on the dance floor.

  The waiter brought the coffee and brandy.

  Slocum was about to lift the snifter to his lips when he saw the couple glide by the banker’s table. His jaw dropped when he saw the woman pull out a small pistol and squeeze the trigger.

  A loud explosion boomed through the dining room. The pistol belched fire and a billowing cloud of white smoke. The patrons all turned their heads and the music stopped.

  Then, pandemonium broke out. Several women screamed.

  Slocum reached for the Colt on his hip.

  Before he could draw his pistol, he felt a hand grasp his wrist and tighten around it.

  For a moment, Slocum thought that he might be the next to die.

  3

  Slocum had seen Norville Granby take the bullet straight in his heart. The rancher now slumped in his chair, stone dead. It seemed to Slocum like he was watching everything in slow motion. He had seen the woman, still in the odd young man’s arms, swirl on the dance floor straight over to the banker’s table. He had seen her stretch out a hand with a small pistol in it and fire at point-blank range.

  Slocum had gone for his gun when the veiled woman had raised her hand again, her pistol pointed straight at him. But to his surprise, instead of firing the woman had turned quickly and shoved the pistol into the hand of the man she had been dancing with seconds before. Then, in the confusion, Slocum had seen her run from the dining room and disappear.

  “No gunplay,” Slocum heard Hardesty’s voice.

  Slocum turned and looked Hardesty in the eyes. Then he saw that it was the rancher’s hand that was gripping his wrist.

  “No need, now, Bill. Just let go of my wrist,” Slocum said.

  Hardesty did as he was told.

  “Don’t ever do that again, Hardesty,” Slocum said.

  “I thought you were going to mix us into that.”

  “Did you see the shooting?”

  “No, I was watching you.”

  “Well, next time, you’d better make sure you know where to look.”

  Before Hardesty could say anything, the room was filled with constables and sheriff’s deputies. They swarmed around the ruddy-faced man who was still holding the smoking pistol.

  Slocum got up from the table, pushing away his chair and walked over to where Granby was still slumped over, a hole in his chest right over his heart. There was very little blood, since his heart had stopped pumping right away. Hardesty came up and stood behind Slocum.

  Granby’s eyes were open. He was staring into eternity, the chill frost of death clouding his sightless eyes. Two deputies wrestled the hapless man with the braided hair, while another snatched the pistol from his hand.

  “You’re making a mistake,” Slocum said.

  “Mister, stay out of it, or I’ll put you in the cárcel, along with this murderer.”

  “But he didn’t shoot that man,” Slocum said. “I saw who did it.”

  “We got witnesses who say he did.”

  “This man was dancing with a woman. She shot that banker.”

  The deputy’s face hardened into a scowl. He looked at his prisoner.

  “Was you dancin’ with a woman?”

  The man didn’t answer. The deputy slapped him across the face with the back of his hand.

  “You answer me, mister.”

  The man shook his head. The deputy raised his hand to strike the prisoner again.

  “Deputy,” Slocum said, “if you hit that man again, you’ll be on the floor next to that dead rancher.”

  The deputy glared at Slocum. But he lowered his hand.

  “Take him away,” the deputy growled. “Lock him up.”

  The deputy walked around the table and confronted Slocum.

  “And just who are you?” he asked.

  Slocum told him.

  “He’s with me,” Hardesty said. “He had nothing to do with any of this.”

  The deputy looked at Hardesty.

  “Oh, hello, Mr. Hardesty. Didn’t see you. If you said he had nothing to do with this killin’, then you make sure he keeps his mouth shut. Mr. Granby had some friends in this town and we got a clear case here. Judge Wyman won’t have no trouble convictin’ that breed.”

  “Thanks, Smitty,” Hardesty said. “Mr. Slocum and I will let you do your job.”

  “What’s your name?” Slocum asked. “Smith?”

  “Deputy Harold Smith to you, Slocum.”

  “Well, Deputy Smith, I saw the whole thing. That man you took to jail was dancing with a woman. She pulled out a pistol when she was close to Mr. Granby and shot him in the heart. Then she shoved the pistol into your prisoner’s hand and ran out of the dining room.”

  “So you say.”

  “So I say,” Slocum said.

  “Well, you can tell it to the judge, Slocum.”

  With that, Smitty turned on his heel and left to talk to the other constables and deputies. They lifted Granby from the chair after determining that he was stone dead and carried him into the hotel lobby. Soon, the room began to clear. Hardesty and Slocum joined Lorelei back at their table.

  They sat down. Lorelei was visibly shaken over the murder of Granby. Her hands were trembling and her lower lip quivered.

  “Oh, Daddy,” she said. “This is all so horrible.”

  “Yes, Lorelei. But the sheriff has the murderer. He’ll go before Judge Wyman in the morning and probably be hanged before noon.”

  “What?” Slocum was aghast.

  “Justice is swift in Del Rio.”

  “You mean railroading, don’t you?” Slocum’s anger was building by the moment.

  “Judge Wyman will hear the evidence. He’s fair.”

  “Well, I have evidence,” Slocum said.

  “And the judge will weigh it, John, I assure you.”

  They sat there as the dining room began to empty even more. They drank their brandies and smoked their cheroots. Slocum wore a thoughtful look on his face, his forehead creasing, his eyes squinting to narrow slits.

  What he had seen here tonight was very mysterious, to say the least. Mysterious and puzzling. None of it made any sense to him just then, and he supposed it was because he did not know any of the people involved. Why would a woman murder a man in a public place? There had to be some underlying reason that Slocum couldn’t fathom with the sparse information he had. Why would the lone man let himself be set up like that? Did he know the woman? Was she the one he had been waiting for, and if so, why? It was obvious to Slocum that the two came from different stations in life. He had the look of a working cowhand or farm laborer. She had an elegance about her, the way she dressed, the way she danced. She seemed at home in such a fancy dining hall, and the man seemed out of place.

  “John,” Hardesty said, “there’s nothing you can do tonight. Sleep on it. If you still feel the way you do, you can go to court in the morning. It opens at nine o’clock.”

  “I wanted to go to the jail and talk to the prisoner,” Slocum said.

  “Why?”

  “Curiosity. There’s something out of place here, Bill. It looks to me like that man was deliberately framed. What connection does he have to Granby? Have you or Lorelei ever seen him before?”

  Hardesty and his daughter both shook their heads.

  “How about the woman? Did she look familiar to either of you?”

  “I didn’t notice her that much,” Hardesty said. “I mean I saw a woman out of the corner of my eye, leaving the room. She didn’t seem to be running. She just walked through the crowd, didn’t she?”

  “Yes,” Slocum said. “She walked fast and deliberate. But she wasn’t running. Did you get a good look at her, Lorelei?”

  “I saw her dancing with that man, but I didn’t pay much attention,” she said. “She was well-dressed, and I remember wondering why she wore a veil. I thought she might be a woman in mourning. It was only a fleeting glance, though, just before Mr. Granby was shot.”

  “Did you see her shoot him?” Slocum asked. “Either of you?”

  “I’m sorry, John,” Hardesty said. “I just heard the gunshot.”

  “Me, too,” Lorelei said.

  “Do you have any idea who the woman might be? Do you know anyone who wears a veil in public?”

  “No,” Lorelei said. “Unless a woman’s in mourning. And that’s very rare around here.”

  Slocum looked at Hardesty, who shook his head.

  “Look, John, if it’ll make you feel any better, I’ll go over to the jail and see if I can find out who the man was that they locked up.”

  “Ever see him before? Either of you?”

  Both Lorelei and her father shook their heads.

  “No, never mind,” Slocum said. “I’ll go over there in the morning. Courthouse near the jail?”

  “Right next to it,” Hardesty said. “I’ll go with you. Lorelei, you’d better turn in. I’ve got some things to do at the stables and I’ll be up in a while.”

  Lorelei nodded.

  “I’m going to turn in, too,” Slocum said.

  “Good, you can escort me, then,” Lorelei said. “My room’s right next to yours.”

  “I’ll see you in the morning, Sugar,” Hardesty said to his daughter. “Good night, John.”

  “Good night, Bill. Thanks for the supper.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Hardesty walked to the counter and paid the bill as Lorelei and Slocum entered the hotel lobby. They walked up the stairs together. She walked very close to him and her hip brushed against his leg several times on the way up the stairs.

  At Lorelei’s door, Slocum stood there politely as she inserted the key.

  “Won’t you come in, John? I’ve some brandy in my room.”

  “But your father . . .”

  “Oh, his room’s on another floor. I thought we might talk and look out my window at the night. It’s such a lovely cool evening. I have a balcony.”

  “I’m not much on brandy, Lorelei.”

  “Whiskey, then. Straight Kentucky bourbon, is it?”

  “Yes,” he said, his voice full of husk.

  “Besides, I’d like another cheroot, if you can spare one?”

  “Sure,” he said.

  She opened the door, walked to a table and struck a match. She lit the oil lamp, which threw a golden cone along the wall, revealing the outlines of comfortable furniture. Slocum followed her in and closed the door.

  He swallowed hard.

  Lorelei was slipping out of her dress. She let it fall to the floor in a puddle.

  She had nothing on underneath.

  4

  Lorelei was all woman.

  She stood there by the lighted lamp, statuesque, cool and elegant, letting Slocum drink in her natural beauty. She smiled. Slocum tried to smile back, but his face was frozen in rigid surprise. He hadn’t expected this. Lorelei had given no indication during supper that she was a willing woman.

  “Come,” she said. “I’ll show you the way to my bed. Don’t you have to work up an appetite for whiskey? Especially after a full meal?”

  “Yeah, I reckon,” Slocum croaked.

  The bed was in a far section of the room, against a wall with no window. There was a table next to it and at the foot of the bed another table. She pointed to it as she sat down and crossed her elegant legs.

  “You can put your clothes there, John,” she said. Then she touched a post near the head of the bed. “You can hang your pistol here, if it will make you more comfortable.”

  “I’m not a gunman,” he said.

  “No, but you wear one. And I have the feeling you know how to use it.”

  Slocum said nothing. He undressed and hung his pistol on the bedpost, within easy reach. When he peeled off his shirt, Lorelei’s eyes widened.

  “My,” she said, “you even have a hideout gun.”

  Slocum looked down, pulled the Remington bellygun from inside his belt.

  “It comes in handy sometimes,” he said, laying it on the side table. He didn’t expect to have to use it on Lorelei or anyone else, for that matter.