The Lawman

Chapter Twenty-three

After dinner—enchiladas and rice—Decker went over to the livery to talk to the leathery-faced woman about a horse. She took him out back to show him what she had.

There were three horses in the corral.

“Is this all you have?” he asked.

“I have three horses, señor,” she said. “That is two more than anyone else in town.”

“Jesus,” Decker said, “I’m surprised you aren’t the mayor.”

“My cousin is the mayor.”

He stared at her, then ducked underneath the corral fence to look over the horses.

There was a bay mare that was too heavy, a rangy roan and a small pinto with bowed tendons. The roan was the best of the lot, with no apparent infirmities.

“How much for the roan?”

“One hundred.”

“That’s crazy,” Decker said. “I’ll keep the horse I’ve got.”

“That horse will drop dead if you ride him another twenty miles.”

“Then I’ll walk,” Decker said. “I’d rather walk than pay a hundred dollars for that roan. How much for the mare?”

“A hundred dollars.”

“She’s overweight.”

“Ninety dollars.”

“How much do I get off for the pinto’s bowed tendons?”

“The pinto is seventy-five—”

“Forget it. I’ll give you my horse and twenty-five dollars for the roan.”

She shook her head.

All through the dickering the expression on her face never changed. By the time they were done Decker had the roan for thirty-five dollars, his horse, and five of his cigars. He had decided that the woman was over fifty.

That done he took a walk by the water. While he was there a woman and a little boy came along, and the woman watched the boy play in the shallow water.

She appeared to be about thirty or so, pretty, big-bosomed and wide-hipped. Some men would say she was built for childbearing.

Decker figured she was built for making love.

He walked over to where she was sitting and said, “That’s a fine-looking boy.”

“Thank you.”

She pushed some hair out of her face and looked up at him.

“How old is he?”

“Five.”

“Is he yours?”

“He is my son.”

“What’s his name?”

“Ricardo.”

“Named after his father?”

“His father had no name,” she said. “His father was a gringo who rode into town and rode out again. I never saw him again.”

“I’m…sorry” Decker said, awkwardly.

The woman had hiked her skirt up to get some sun on her legs, and he stared at her strong thighs and calves.

“Would you mind if I sat?” he asked.

“The sun will be going down very soon.”

“That’s all right. I’m not here for the sun.”

She stared at him and he hoped that hadn’t sounded to her the way it had to him.

“Sit, then.”

He sat in the sand next to her.

“Why are you here?”

“In town?”

She shrugged.

“I’m here by the water for the peace and quiet, I guess. I’m justing passing through town. Why do they call this lake Rio del Gato?”

“The lake is called the river of the cat because years ago there was a big cougar who liked to come and drink from it.”

“That’s all he did? Just come and drink?”

“Yes. After they built the town someone saw the cat one day, but all he did was drink and leave. Soon, the cat would come to the lake even if people were around, drink and then leave.”

“He was gentle, then?”

“Yes.”

“What happened to him?”

“Somebody shot him.”

“What happened then?”

“The cat’s body was thrown into the water, and now some people believe that his spirit lives on, protecting the town.”

“Has it protected the town?”

She shrugged again.

“We have never had any trouble with bandidos, or bad men of any kind.”

Decker figured it sure wasn’t the town sheriff that was keeping them away, so maybe there was something to be said for the spirit of the cat.

“They also say that the water has healing properties.”

“How true is that?”

She looked at him and said, “No one gets sick in Rio del Gato.”

“Is that the name of the town, too, then?”

“It is all known as ‘the River of the Cat.’ I have also heard some gringos call the town ‘Cat River.’”

“This is a lake, though.”

She shrugged, as if that had very little to do with anything.

“Are you staying at the hotel?”

“Yes.”

“Are you lonely?” She looked at him and he saw that she had very big, dark, liquid-looking eyes—or was the lake reflecting off of them?

“Not…lonely, exactly”

He had turned down two women in the past week, plump and pretty Juanita and the beautiful Raquel. Both would have been trouble of their own kind.

This one would be no trouble.

They agreed that she would come to his hotel room after eight.

“I must find someone to babysit for Ricardo.”

“All right.”

“The sun is going down,” she said, standing up. “Ricardo!” She shouted something in Spanish and the boy waved and ran out of the water. Decker saw that he had no shoes on, and his pants were rolled up over his ankles.

“Hello, Ricardo.”

The boy did not answer him. The woman got up, took the boy’s hand and walked away.

Decker watched her until she was out of sight, then took off his boots and rolled his pants up over his ankles.

He spent a couple of hours showing the poster around, but there was no one in town who remembered seeing Red Moran, and yet his name was in the register.

All right, so he had been there. Even though no one had seen him, he’d been there and Decker was on the right trail.

He went to the saloon for a drink, then walked back to his hotel.

“How did you enjoy the food, señor Decker?” Emilio asked from behind the desk.

“The food? Oh, the food was fine, Emilio, just fine. Gracias.”

“Will you be leaving in the morning?”

“Yes, early in the morning.”

“Have a good night, señor.”

The tone of Emilio’s voice and the look on his face told Decker that the woman from the beach had kept her appointment.

It was after eight o’clock.

In the morning the woman was gone, and so was the money he had left out for her. She had been very quiet when she arrived, very eager in bed, and then quiet again afterward. He figured she’d use the money to buy little Ricardo a new pair of shoes or something.

Decker got up to dress and was surprised to find that his shoulder was not bothering him very much today. Could it have been the water from the lake?

That was silly.

He finished dressing and went downstairs to pay his bill.

“We hope you have enjoyed your stay, señor,” Emilio said, smiling broadly.

“It was interesting, especially the stories I heard about the lake.”

“Yes, about the cat. It is nonsense, really, but some people believe it.”

“Well, people have to have something to believe in.”

“Corne back again, señor.”

It had been an interesting stay, but somehow Decker didn’t think he’d be returning.

He walked to the livery where the woman had the roan saddled and ready for him. With a fresh horse under him he hoped to be able to catch up with Moran within two weeks, especially if the man had found a town he wanted to hole up in. It was Decker’s theory that if the man came to Mexico after every job, then he must be coming to the same town. In all probability, it would be a small town that would not attract a lot of people, or attention. All Decker had to do was find that town.

When he left the town he rode along the water’s edge for as long as he could, and when the waterline turned away he continued on.

There was something about the cat’s spirit being in the water that made him uncomfortable.

He wondered what had happened to the man who shot the cat?