Motherlode by James Axler

to the east as well as north of the funhouse. Though he was reasonably well hidden by some rabbit brush, he had made an amateur’s mistake: not counted on the sun rolling down the western half of the sky as the day wore on to afternoon—and, with the season, still fairly well to the south.
    Jak, while prowling outside on the lookout for trouble, had caught a glint of sunlight off the big objective lens of the spy’s binocs. Krysty knew without needing to be told he had showed no sign of reacting. Because the stalking of prey was a game he knew triple well from both sides. Instead he’d gone on as if concerned with nothing beyond the stables and the big windowless structure, and then vanished around the side of the house and come straight in to report.
    “At least there’s only one,” Sand said.
    “That you know of,” Ryan said.
    Her brow furrowed and her pale-green eyes narrowed at him. Then she smiled a wide smile.
    “Point to you.” Her expression changed to thoughtfulness.
    “Want me to take care of him, Baron?” Trumbo asked. He stood on the other side of the door from Ryan.
    “No. I want you and your men staying here and guarding my house and my people, the way I pay you to.”
    She sat back on her well-padded, velvet-clad haunches and regarded Ryan.
    “I have a proposition for you, sport,” she said.
    “We’ve got a job,” Ryan replied.
    “What?” Trumbo barked. “You mean you won’t sell out to the highest bidder?”
    “Not good practice,” J.B. said. “We don’t get a lot of repeat custom in our line of work, but we like to leave our options open.”
    Sand shook her head. “Nothing to cause you conflict of interest, my dear curly wolf,” she said to Ryan. “Indeed, I hardly think even Dark Lady could find fault with it. These Crazy Dogs are starting to cause problems for everyone in the Basin, but mostly for me and mine. Their unwholesome activities have led to my recently increasing the size of my sec force several-fold, which you might imagine I find distasteful, not to mention expensive. If you can help me with that little issue, I will reward you well for it, regardless of anything else that transpires between us.”
    “Can you trust her, Ryan?” Mildred asked from the hall.
    “No less than I do anyone,” he said. “She’s just offered to pay us for chilling work. Do you really think she’s stupe enough to risk trying to hold back her side on a deal like that?”
    Of course plenty had tried to do just that to Ryan Cawdor and his companions. Krysty smiled. In his own cunning way her man had just reminded Sand of the folly of trying to play such a trick on his kind.
    Sand laughed and stood. “Last thing I want to do is to give you more motivation to come after me. Though I really want you to reserve judgment until you’ve heard and seen Dark Lady’s response to my offer. Anyway, you sort of have to at this point. And to sweeten the pot, if you take care of this sneaky little bastard, I’ll pay you on the spot. And after that—what happens, happens.”
    “Right,” Ryan said with a nod.
    Trumbo sidled up to Sand and put a hand on her arm. “I can take care of you,” he said in a husky voice. The tone made Krysty’s ears want to prick up like a hunting fox’s.
    Sand shook him off. “Hands off the merchandise,” she said. “As far as you’re concerned, I’m a lesbian.”
    She winked at Krysty. “You can feel free to make that assumption, too, Red.”
    Krysty laughed. She was neither interested nor offended. But she traded quick glances with her mate.
    He wasn’t the sort to take offense at that, either. But the slight furrowing of his brow told her that, like her, he thought that was a triple-stupe way to treat your own sec boss.
    It wasn’t their problem, she knew. Clearly, the baron had at least been telling truth when she’d said there were undercurrents and implications in the situation that the outlanders couldn’t even guess at. Not that there weren’t