Revenge at the Rodeo Read online

  The cap came off suddenly, and its release caused Dani to give the bottle an involuntary jerk—which sent the entire contents of the bottle right across the bodice of her new dress. Unbelieving, she stood there staring down at the hideous black blot that was spreading over the sheer cream-colored material. Superimposed over that she saw again the form of the gunman with the scarlet blot spreading on his chest as he lay dying.

  Dani began to shake, and she turned with a muted cry and ran to the small bathroom. She stripped off the dress, then seeing that the slip was stained as well, took it off. She leaned against the wall, her eyes tightly shut, and tried to think of something else. The image of the dying gunman was gone, but she was terrified that it might come back. She began to pray, asking for help, and finally the tremors lessened. Straightening up, Dani tried to think what to do. She had no other clothing at the office, none at all. She resolved to keep an outfit in her office in the future, but that didn’t help her now.

  Finally she reached down and picked up the slip. It was not stained as badly as the dress, and she washed it under the cold water, using the hand soap. Though the stain remained ugly, she ended by putting on the slip, then turned to the dress. It was terrible! The porous material had drunk the ink, it seemed, so that a huge blot at least eight inches wide covered the bodice. She began washing the dress, but it was hopeless. The water just spread the stain over a wider area.

  For a long moment she stared at the ruined garment, then drew her shoulders back. She walked over to the window and spread the soaking dress over a chair so that the sunlight would dry it out.

  As she turned around, the door opened and Ben Savage walked in.

  He took two steps into the room, then stopped dead still. His eyes, usually hooded and sleepy, flew open at the sight of Dani in her slip, staring at him with an expression he’d never seen before.

  Dani stood there, paralyzed by the sight of him. For one brief moment, there was total silence. Ben had just started to turn and leave the room, when her voice caught him. It was a voice he’d never heard from her, filled with white-hot anger. “Just come barging right on it, Savage!” she exclaimed, her eyes flashing. When he didn’t answer, she added, “Just a regular old voyeur, are you? Get your jollies by spying on women in their underwear?”

  “That’s it,” he said evenly. “Thought you knew I was that sort of chap.”

  “Get—get out of here!” Dani ordered between clenched teeth. “And you can just keep on walking as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Easy to do.”

  Dani stood there as he turned and walked out of the room, and as soon as the door closed, she began to cry. She slumped into her chair, buried her face on her arms, and her shoulders heaved. Finally the spasm passed, and she lifted her head. Tears had blurred her makeup, and her hands were trembling. Finally, she flipped the switch on the intercom. “Angie?”

  “Yes?’

  “Send Ben and Al away. Lock the outer door, then come in here.”

  “Yes, Miss Ross.”

  Dani could not seem to get up. She sat there stiffly until Angie came in. “Oh, Dani! What in the world . . . ?”

  “I—spilled some ink all over my dress, Angie. You’ll have to go to a shop and get me something to wear.” Angie’s presence seemed to stiffen her, for she got to her feet and picked up the stained dress. “Just get a lightweight jacket—you know my size.”

  “I won’t be long.”

  Dani stopped her as she reached the door. “Did Ben—say anything when he left?”

  Angie shook her head. “Not a word.”

  Dani bit her lower lip, admitting, “I was too hard on him. He caught me off guard.” She attempted to smile. “I guess he looked pretty mad, didn’t he, Angie?”

  Angie shook her head, “You know Ben. Nobody can tell what he’s thinking.” She hesitated, then asked, “You want me to try to find him?”

  “No, you get the coat. I’ll find him myself.”

  Luke Sixkiller found Dani sitting at her desk, staring up at the portrait of a soldier in a Confederate uniform. He followed her gaze, then asked, “Relative of yours?”

  “My great-great-grandfather.”

  The Indian glanced at the stern face looking down on the room, and grinned. “He probably took a shot at my great-great-grandfather.”

  “Wrong army, Luke.” Dani smiled. She studied the man, who took a seat across from her, and added, “He was in the Confederate Army. I guess your great-great-grandfather had his troubles with the Union generals.”

  “Way the story comes down,” Luke mused, “it was the generals who had trouble with him. He never did surrender. Just sort of petered out.”

  Dani smiled at Sixkiller. He was a powerful man of thirty-five, with the blackest hair possible and high cheek bones proclaiming his Sioux blood. He was one of the most physical men she’d ever known. For one thing, he carried 190 pounds on a frame only five feet ten inches tall, and none of it was fat. He had a solid, thick chest, and a neck that any wrestler would have been proud of. But for all his strength, he was quick as a cat, and if half the stories Dani had heard about him were true, he was a dangerous man to cross. The criminal world, she had been told, had a saying: “Don’t try to buy Sixkiller.”

  He lay back in his chair, his dark eyes half-closed, but she knew that meant nothing. He never seemed to pay attention, yet he was aware of everything that happened. “What you need the fuzz for, Dani?” he asked lazily. Sixkiller was chief of detectives for the New Orleans Police Department, and the two of them had worked together from time to time.

  Dani was a little embarrassed, a fact that drew Sixkiller’s quick attention. She was, he knew, a woman of tremendous self-possession, not easy to shake up, but she was obviously troubled now.

  “Well, Luke, to tell the truth, I’d like a favor,” she admitted. Her cheeks were a little red, and she ran her hand through her hair nervously. “I don’t know how to say this—but I can’t find Ben.”

  Sixkiller’s dark eyes glowed with interest. “Where’d you lose him?”

  “Well—to tell the truth, we had a little argument.”

  “You always have arguments with Ben. This must have been a doozie!”

  “Not really. Oh, Luke, it’s ridiculous! I can’t even talk about it without feeling like a fool!”

  “Lay it on me.”

  Dani told the story, feeling more self-conscious than she could ever remember. She ended with, “And that’s all there was to it. I yelled at him, but I’ve done that before. It’s been three days now.”

  Sixkiller suggested innocently, “Maybe we’d better re-enact the crime. You just shuck out of those duds, and I’ll come in—”

  “Oh, Luke, don’t you start on me!” Dani shook her head. “I think something may have happened to him. He doesn’t answer his phone, so he’s not at his apartment.”

  “May just not want to answer the phone. I never want to answer a phone. He’s probably at his place with a bottle and some young chick consoling him.”

  “No, he’s not.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I went there!”

  “He probably saw you coming and wouldn’t come to the door.”

  “I went inside. He’s not there, Luke.”

  His heavy black eyebrows lifted. “You have a key to Ben’s apartment?”

  “No!” Dani snapped. “I jimmied the lock.”

  Sixkiller found that delightful, but kept his face stern. “Breaking and entering. Could get you five years at St. Gabriel’s. Are you confessing?”

  Dani usually liked his teasing, but now she was upset. “Luke, he’s been involved with some rough characters. One of them may have decided to pay him off.”

  Sixkiller nodded, seeing how serious she was. “I’ll see about it.” He got to his feet, then gave her a sardonic look. “But you may have to get another cop.”

  She stared at him without understanding. “Why?”

  “You don’t know?” He laughed so
ftly. “Read today’s paper. And watch the six o’clock news. I’m in the news, kid.”

  “What is it, Luke?”

  “Police brutality,” Sixkiller explained. “Story is I beat a suspect with a baseball bat.”

  “Luke!”

  “Yeah, you’d suspect a nice guy like me of a thing like that?”

  “But—they must have some sort of grounds,” Dani objected. “Who were you supposed to have beaten up?”

  “Sweet Willie Wine.” He grinned as Dani’s mouth drew tight with shock. “Gets you, doesn’t it? Here Sweet Willie had done in at least three people that I know about, and one of them a woman. But now he’s just a poor misunderstood boy who needs acceptance.”

  Dani shook her head. “What happened?”

  “He tried to resist arrest. I caught him breaking a guy’s knees with a bat. I took it away from him, and he resisted. The guy he was working over was sort of a friend of mine. Just a plain guy who got behind on his payments to a big-time gambler.”

  “What’s going to happen?”

  “I’ll probably get fired.” Sixkiller shrugged. “If Willie were just your average white Anglo-Saxon Protestant, nobody would ever hear of it. But the militants need something to scream about, and the American Civil Liberties bunch hasn’t got a good cause, so they’ll probably jump in for some of the headlines.”

  “Can I help?”

  “Sure. Have dinner with me tonight. We can go parking, and you can soothe my ragged nerves.”

  “You never had a nerve in your life!” Dani scoffed. “But we can go out tonight.”

  “Parking?”

  “No, you idiot!” She laughed. “We’ll plan how to find Ben and how to keep you from getting fired. Pick me up at seven.”

  Dani enjoyed the date with Sixkiller, but he refused to talk about either his own problems or Ben Savage. He kept her amused, but when he took her to her door, he said, “Well, you can ask me in, but I’ll refuse. I know how girls like you are!” When she smiled, he sobered. “Ben’s in town.”

  “He is? But where is he?”

  “Right now I don’t know, but he’s been seen two or three times with a woman. Good-looking dame with black hair. Guy who told me about it said he’d never seen her before.”

  Dani stood there uncertainly. “I need to see him, Luke.”

  “Yeah. Well, I should have something for you tomorrow. I’ll look into it myself.”

  She smiled wanly. “Thank you, Luke. I’m a lot of trouble, aren’t I?”

  “Tons,” he agreed. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, “You’re a sweetheart, Luke Sixkiller.”

  He stared at her. “Wow! I haven’t had a kiss like that since my Aunt Ethel was at my fifth birthday party.” Then he left, moving competently down the hall and disappearing down the stairs.

  But Dani didn’t need his call, for the next day at ten o’clock Angie’s voice came over the intercom, “Ben’s here.”

  “Send him in!” Dani ordered quickly. She got up from her chair and waited as he entered. “Ben, I’m sorry for the way I yelled at you the other day,” she confessed at once.

  Savage came to stand in front of her desk. He nodded briefly. “It’s okay. No scars or anything.”

  She saw that he was not himself. His hazel eyes were usually bright, but now they were not. “Is something wrong, Ben?” Dani asked.

  He was not a large man, no taller than Sixkiller, but with none of the policeman’s bulk. He weighed 175 pounds, and his years as an aerialist, with the circus, had given him a trim form. He had a squarish face with deep-set eyes protected by a heavy shelf of bone, in the manner of some of the Slavic race. A scar ran across his brow, disappearing into his left eyebrow, and his short nose had been broken.

  “I’ve got to leave town for a while,” he announced.

  Dani stared at him. “Ben, I said I was sorry.”

  “Got nothing to do with you,” he told her evenly.

  Dani twisted the ring on her finger. “How long do you think you’ll be gone?”

  “Can’t say. Better hire another guy.”

  His brevity was not unusual, for he was not a talker. She asked, “Where will you be going, Ben?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll be moving around a lot. Be hard to say.”

  Suddenly Dani grew angry. “You don’t have to do it this way, Ben! If you want out, just say so.”

  “All right,” he responded evenly, his eyes watching her. “I want out.”

  Dani felt shocked by the words and suddenly realized how much she counted on his being around, but she kept her face still. “Fine with me. I’ll have Angie make out your check.”

  He nodded, and when she spoke the words to Angie, he offered quietly, “I’ll try to keep in touch.” He hesitated, then added, “I know you’re having a hard time over shooting that guy. Hate to leave you with it.”

  Dani felt a wave of self-pity rise, and to cover it she said, “Never mind all that, Ben. I know you’ve got a new playmate. So why don’t you just get out of here and take off with her to the beach or somewhere?”

  Savage stared at her, and for a moment, she thought he was going to change his mind. But instead he turned and walked out the door without another word.

  Dani sat down abruptly, her legs suddenly very weak. She had a tremendous urge to lower her head on her arms and cry, but she kept her jaw locked. Finally she called out, “Good-bye, Ben Savage—and good riddance!”

  2

  A Call from Dallas

  * * *

  I don’t like the way Dani looks.”

  Daniel Ross and his wife had walked from their house down to the pasture to call Dani to breakfast. She had arrived fhe evening before, stayed the night, and had risen at dawn to ride her horse. They stood there, watching, as she drove her horse, Biscuit, in the pattern around three orange barrels.

  As always Daniel admired the way the rider and the animal became one in the intricate maneuver, and he waited untill Dani pulled the rust-colored quarter horse to a stop before turning to look at his wife. “I don’t either,” he agreed quietly. “she’s healthy enough, through.”

  A single line traced across Ellen’s brow. “Oh, physically she s as right. But her nerves are bad, Dan.” Ellen Ross, a tall, ash-blond woman of forty-four, pushed a wisp of hair away from her brow. “She’s not sleeping very much, and she’s hard to get along with. That’s not like her.”

  “No it’s not.” Daniel pulled himself up from the fence post he’d been leaning against; he was a tall man with beautiful white hair and thin, patrician features. “It’s that shooting. She can’t shake off killing that man. I don’t know if she ever will.”

  Dani was walking Biscuit toward them, and Ellen spoke quickly, “she needs help, Dan. Have you talk to her?”

  “Tried to. But she’s got it all locked up.” He added hurriedly, “Don’t say anything to her right now, though” He lifted his voice, demanding grumpily, “what kind of riding is that? I could do better myself!”

  Dani pulled Biscuit to a halt and slipped to the ground, her thin white T-shirt soaked with sweat. Taking a handkerchief out of the pocket of the worn Wrangler jeans, she mopped her face. She put the square of the square of the cloth back, slapped the horse on the neck, then smiled briefly. “Biscuit thinks so, too, Dad. He gets downright disgusted with me when I don’t come up to his standards.”

  The two began to talk about the fine points of barrel racing and Ellen stood there watching them. she’s closer to Dan than she is to me, Dani’s mother thought, but without jealousy. They’re so much alike. She’s always gone to him with her problems, just as Allison comes to me.

  “I’ll go get breakfast,” she announced. “And you wash that horse off your hands before you come to the table, Dani!” she walked back through the dew-covered grass, toward the two-story plantation house, entered the kitchen, and found her fifteen-year-old daughter sitting at the table, reading a book. “You do the toast, All
ison,” she commanded, pulling a large, cast-iron skillet from a shelf.

  “I thought we were having pancakes,” the girl objected. Putting the book down, she took the wheat bread from a box and began mortaring it generously with yellow butter.

  “There’s no time for that this morning,” Ellen said. Taking a large bowl of eggs from the refrigerator, she glanced over at the girl. “Don’t put so much butter on that bread. I’m trying to lose weight.”

  “Well, I’m trying to gain, Mother,” Allison snapped. “I can’t go around looking like a skeleton!”

  Ellen suppressed a smile, for she knew Allison was sensitive about her figure. Actually she was like a young filly, leggy and a little awkward, but already her figure was beginning to form, and soon she would be a beautiful woman. “You can stuff yourself with milk shakes, but the rest of us are fighting the battle of the bulge.”

  Allison sniffed, but she had a naturally sunny disposition, so passed on to another subject. “Is Dani going to stay for the weekend? I hope so! She can help me with that dumb old geometry! What good is that old stuff, anyway?” She slapped a slice of buttered bread into the Munsey toaster with great force. “I think it’s all part of a communist plot!”

  “You can’t read novels and do gymnastics all the time,” Ellen pointed out. “There are other things, and math is one of them. It’ll be good for you,” she added, vigorously stirring the eggs she had broken into a large green bowl.

  “Did you like it, when you were in school?”

  Ellen thought of the straight D’s she had made in geometry and chose to ignore the question. “Don’t you bother Dani too much, Allison.”

  Allison looked up quickly, her large blue eyes wide. “Why not? She’s not still in a slump because she shot that man, is she?” When her mother hesitated, she continued defiantly, “Why, she had to do it! I’d have done the same thing myself—and I wouldn’t have worried about it for one second!”