Spawn of the Desert/Chapter 2
II
THE Saint and Steele found that there was little choice between the two dwellings, but they selected the one made vacant by the death of Preacher Bill. It was a roofless, windowless, rock hut about ten feet square, built in an angle of the canyon which supplied two of the walls. An open fireplace was used for cooking, and the utensils were either placed on rock shelves or on the ground.
Preacher Bill’s blankets were still spread from his last night’s sleep, but the larder was empty.
“I reckon yuh can get along,” said their guide. “I’m Jim Cates, but most everybody calls me ‘Mica.’ ’S I said before, if yuh start preachin’, I’m goin’ t’ have a front seat.”
He started away, but turned back.
“Say, if yuh get a call to speak over the remains of Ace Ault, I can tell yuh a few things to make yore oration easier. Ault was crooked as a snake in a cactus patch. He never”
Mica Cates stopped talking and cleared his throat. A girl had come up near the doorway and was looking at them. She was about twenty years of age, fairly well dressed. A pair of big, brown eyes, misty with tears, looked at them from a cameo-like face, which was framed in a mass of brown hair. Her cheeks were streaked with tear-marks and her lips quivered as she looked around. Then she turned, without a word, and disappeared around the canyon wall.
“Sleed’s daughter,” said Cates softly. “Her name is Nola, but Sleed said she was his luck so many times that everybody calls her Luck.”
“Been cryin’,” said Steele wonderingly.
“Uh-huh. Mebbe yuh didn’t see her down to Hell’s Depot. She was there. I reckon she was the only one to care about Preacher Bill. Yuh see, she ain’t had no chance to learn book teachin’s, until Preacher Bill took to learnin’ her. He was eddicated a lot, and she sure wanted to learn.”
Steele nodded. “She’s a mighty pretty girl, Cates.”
“And ’nother thing,” said Cates softly, “yuh don’t want to have nothin’ t’ do with her. Sleed’s a killer, where Luck’s concerned. Mebbe that’s one reason why Ault got a ticket for the Depot. Jist let her alone and don’t cross Silver Sleed, and you’ll git along here. What did yuh say yore names was?”
The Saint held out his hand and Cates shook hands with him, flinching from the crushing grip of the Saint’s hand.
“We both thank you, Mica Cates,” boomed the Saint. “If I preach in Calico town I shall deem it a pleasure to see you in the front row.”
Mica Cates bobbed his head and hurried away. He flexed his right hand and shook his head.
“My Gawd, I never knowed a preacher with a grip like that—nossir! I didn’t find out their names and I’m danged if I’d ever ask any man twice.”
Cates climbed back up the rocky trail to the street, where he met Loper.
“Where did they hole up?” asked Loper.
“Preacher Bill’s place.”
“Ask ’em their names, Mica?”
“Y’betcha, I did.”
“What names did they give yuh?”
Mica Cates glanced back down the trail, wiped the perspiration off his brow with the back of his hand.
“They ain’t givin’ away names, I reckon.”
“Yuh asked ’em, didn’t yuh?” snapped Loper angrily.
“Y’betcha, I did. Mebbe they didn’t hear me—I dunno.”
Loper hitched up his belt and strode back to the street. It was very hot and he had no desire to climb down into Sunshine Alley and argue about names.