The Temptress Read online

  Tynan barely looked at the outfit. “If you don’t get me some pants I’m—”

  “Here!” Red said, tossing him the leather pants.

  “Not on your life,” Ty answered, letting them fall where they landed. “I need—”

  “Wait a minute, Ty. There are six of them and one of you, and they have this place surrounded. Rachel said she saw a rifle on a roof so maybe there’s more than six of them. You walk out of here and they’ll never give you a chance. But they’re expectin’ what they know you look like. They ain’t expectin’ some fat, drunken ol’ snake oil dealer.”

  Tynan sat down on the bed. “I won’t wear that.”

  “You’d rather die than wear this?” Red gasped.

  “With my boots on and my own pants on. What if I was to get buried in that?”

  Red rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Of all the fool things I ever heard, that’s the worst. Look, Ty honey, how are you gonna save that girl if you’re dead? And that’s what you’ll be if you walk out of here wearin’ your own clothes. With this on, you can walk right out the front door. Ever’body will be so blinded by the diamonds and silver they’ll never even look at your face. And you ain’t even seen all of it yet, there’s white boots and silver guns with white handles and even silver bullets. It’s a real wingdinger of an outfit.”

  Ty sat on the bed, his jaw rigid.

  “You get yourself killed out there and I’ll see to it that you’re buried in this,” Red said.

  Ty shook his head. “I hope Mathison appreciates what I’ve gone through to get him his daughter back.”

  “Come on, let’s get busy. We gotta pad you to make this fit.”

  An hour later, Tynan stood surrounded by giggling females. Asher, smoking a one-inch diameter cigar, sat in a chair with Alice on his lap.

  “It suits you, Tynan,” Asher said. “It really suits you.”

  Red put her hand over Tynan’s, which was on his gun handle, as she checked his hair which was whitened with talcum powder.

  The women had sewn pillows in the long johns of the dead showman so that Ty could fill out the voluminous suit. He now had a belly that hung over his silver buckled belt, and they’d adjusted the pants so they hung down low, the crotch half way to his knees.

  “Too bad to cover that up,” Leora said, running her hand over his buttocks.

  “Now,” Red said, “you look ready, but you gotta get in the mood. That man come in here with pistols blazin’. You gotta go out the same way.”

  “I like to see you with pistols blazin’,” Leora said in Tynan’s ear.

  “He don’t have time for that now,” Red said. “You ready, Mr. Prescott?”

  “Any time.”

  “Then you can help him out, ’cause Ty, you’re too drunk to get out by yourself. You got that?”

  Tynan nodded silently.

  “The horse ready?” Red asked.

  “What horse?” Ty asked.

  “You’ll know it when you see it,” Asher laughed. “Believe me, you’ll know it.”

  Red clasped her arm firmly through Tynan’s. “Honey, I wanta see you again and this is the only way. Now, give me a kiss and go.”

  Ty held her for a minute, kissed her cheek then left the room, long, ornate spurs clinking on the wooden floor. At the top of the stairs, he halted, drew both the silver pistols and fired into the ceiling. The next minute he was down the stairs, women hanging onto him.

  “I’m meaner ’n a snake and twice as quick,” he bellowed, lurching forward, then he grabbed a woman and kissed her while firing a pistol into the ceiling and one at a table full of men. He hit two glasses of beer and narrowly missed a big cowboy.

  The cowboy got up and started toward Tynan, but Asher interposed his own body.

  “He’s drunk,” Asher said. “It was an accident.”

  “You’d better get him out a here,” the man growled, still standing, his gun hand loose.

  “I’m strong as a grizzly and as eagle-eyed as a hawk,” Ty yelled.

  “Come on, hawk, let’s get out of here,” Asher said, pushing Ty toward the door.

  “I can outride, outshoot, out—”

  Asher, seeing that Ty again had his pistol aimed toward the table of watching cowboys—probably Dysan’s men—knocked Ty’s arm upward so the shot hit the painting over the bar, making a hole in the plump buttocks of the nude woman in the painting.

  “I’m as tall as a fir tree and as ugly as a mule but the girls love me best ’cause I’m as hard and big as a ship’s oar,” Ty yelled as Ash pulled him out of the saloon.

  “Get on the damn horse,” Ash said, “before you get us killed.”

  Standing before them was a white skinned, pink eyed stallion wearing a white leather saddle. Ty didn’t even hesitate before jumping into the saddle, wrapping the reins about the pommel, then withdrawing a rifle from the sheath on the side. While standing in the stirrups, fringe flowing behind him, the horse galloping north out of town, Tynan began firing along the edges of the roofs. Some of the men hiding there stood to see what was going on and Ty shot within inches of them.

  Asher, on a horse following Ty, was sure he was as white as Tynan’s leather suit, but the men on the roof seemed to think they were being treated to a free show, and a couple even fired their rifles skyward in appreciation.

  Asher only began to breathe again when they were miles from the town, and abruptly, Tynan disappeared behind some trees. When Asher got to him, he was frantically searching through the white saddlebags.

  “What is it?” Asher asked, dismounting.

  “I was hoping there were some other clothes in here. Damn! But Red didn’t give me any.”

  “You seemed to do well enough with those. Did you realize you almost shot one of Dysan’s men?”

  “I counted eleven in all. How many did you get?”

  “How many what?”

  “Why did you think I made so much noise? I wanted them all to come see what the ruckus was. There were four inside, five on the roofs and two came around from back. I think there may be a couple more south of town. I give them two hours before they realize it was me wearing this thing. So we got two hours to get me all new duds and to get rid of this.” He looked at the pink-eyed horse in disbelief. “It’ll be like trying to hide a mountain in a dollhouse. I wish we could get somebody else to wear this. Then Dysan’s men could follow him and give us some time.”

  Asher snorted. “Oh yeah, and where are we going to find such a fool? I don’t know anybody who could be paid enough money to wear that and if you try to give it to somebody he’ll ask why. They’re sure to be suspicious. The best thing is to burn it. We’ve no hope of finding somebody stupid enough to wear it.”

  “I don’t know,” Ty said as he mounted, cursing as he had to pull fringe out from under him, “the world is full of all sorts of people.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Tynan stood plastered up against the white wall of the building as if he hoped he could disappear. Asher was certainly taking his time in finding clothes to replace the white suit. There’d been a few minutes when Ty thought he was going to have to do something about Asher’s mouth—maybe shove it down his throat—but Ty had been able to persuade him that it was in his own best interests to help find new clothes.

  Slowly, Ty put his head around the building and looked to see if anyone was near. When he was sure the street was empty, he walked the two feet to the horse trough and put his head under. Asher’d had several comments to make on the smell of the French Lilac talcum powder Red had used to turn his hair white.

  Just as he was lifting his head from the water, he felt the unmistakable coldness of a gun barrel on his neck.

  “Say your prayers,” the man said, “cause this is your last minute alive.”

  “Lester Chanry,” Tynan said, drawing back and looking at him. He was a tall bean pole of a man with red hair that reached his scrawny shoulders. His face was covered with freckles, those being the only color on his face