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would drink that coffee. They would drink it to keep themselves awake. But
suppose they drank it and never wakened?
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There were desert plants that held poison. Many of them she had known since
she was a child, Rosa had told her of others. Rosa's mother had been a famous
medicine woman among the Navajo.
But she was no murderess. But suppose they only slept? She did not
immediately sleep but lay thinking. Somewhere out there in the desert.
Stillness ... a pinnacle of rock pointed abeckoning finger at the sky ... a
quail called into the stillness . .. and there Trace Jordan waited for her.
Angrily she pushed her head into the pillow and after a while, she slept.
The problems Trace Jordan presented were the sort Jacob Lantz relished. Not
since he had trailed renegade Apaches had he enjoyed his work so much. There
were dozens of good hideaways in the Animas or Guadalupe Mountains but Jordan
would push south into the wilderness of the San Luis. Jordan could live in
that country because he could live like an Apache. But he would not go far
until the girl was with him. So he told Hindeman.
"Nonetheless," Hindeman said, "well ride after those sheep and have a look.
We'll take Joe with us."
Lantz looked thoughtfully at the house but said nothing. Leaving Jack behind
was asking for trouble and Lantz wanted nothing to happen to that girl. She
was his best chance to catch Jordan. An hour after daybreak the three rode
away. Jack Sutton rolled a cigarette and watched them go.
Wes Parker sat down, looking expectant. Buck Bayless rubbed his jaw
nervously. Maria Cristina saw them and she had seen Hindeman go. She took the
butcher knife and placed it under a cloth on the sideboard.
Boots grated on gravel and Jack Sutton stepped in. He was smiling a thin
smile but there was no smile in his eyes. "Ben's gone," he said.
"Si." Maria Cristina's eyes were watchful "I know."
"I been waitin' for a chance like this."
"You are coward. You afraid of him."
Sutton stepped into the room. "No, not afraid of him. Just smart. Ben gets
the work done. He keeps trouble off my shoulders, so I let him have his way."
"You get out. You no business here."
Jack Sutton smiled. It was not a nice smile. "I've plenty of business here.
I'm going to teach you a lesson."
He walked around the table and stopped in front of her. She made no move to
escape. Her eyes watchful, she merely waited, showing no expression.
He lifted his hand, palm open, and then he struck her. Maria Cristina's eyes
widened but she merely stared at him, the print of the blow on her cheek. Her
very impassiveness infuriated him. He doubled his fist and, as he did, she
jerked the knife from under the cloth. He caught the gleam and whipped back
just as the point of the knife ripped up through his shirt.
Stepping back, he tripped over a chair and fell. Instantly Maria Cristina was
around him and out of the door. He leaped up and grabbed at her but tripped
over the chair again. Then she was through the door and running for the gully.
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Wes Parker sprang to catch her but she turned on him and slashed with the
knife. He sprang back, swearing, blood streaming from his arm.
The delay had given Sutton time to get to her.
Evading the knife, he knocked her down. Before she could rise he kicked the
blade from her hand.
She got up, moving back, her eyes alive with hatred, but he moved in on her
and, disdaining her blows, picked her up and carried her back to the house and
dumped her. Instantly, she sprang back and stood panting, watching him like an
animal at bay.
Outside Wes was swearing, blood streaming from his arm. Buck Bayless stared
at the house, his face sweating. He ran his tongue over his lips.
"Don't stand there like a fool!" Parker yelled. "Fix up my arm!"
Bayless started toward Parker but his attention was on the house. Inside,
Maria Cristina stood against the sideboard watching Sutton come toward her.
"I've been waiting for this chance," Sutton said. "And I'll use it." He
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