Riding With the Devil's Mistress (Lou Prophet Western #3) by Peter Brandvold

town.’
    ‘ You’re a real charmer, Miss Louisa.’
    She favored him with a cockeyed
smile. ‘Thank you, Mr. Prophet.’
    ‘ What’s your last name?’
    ‘ I
guess it ain’t no big secret. Bonaventure.’
    ‘ Louisa Bonaventure?’
    ‘ That’s right.’
    ‘ From
Nebraska?’
    ‘ My
folks farmed out there, near the Platte River, before the Red River
Gang rode through. Of course, they weren’t called the Red River
Gang back then. That’s just been since they moved north to get away
from the federal marshals down Kansas and Missouri way.’
    ‘ They
killed your pa and ma?’
    ‘ And
my two sisters and my brother, James.’ She squeezed her eyes
tightly closed and grimaced, sucking air through her teeth, as
though the images in her head were far too much for her to bear.
‘Let’s talk about something else now!’
    ‘ Okay,
Louisa,’ Prophet said quickly, seeing the pain she was suddenly in.
‘I’m sorry.’ They rode in silence for a while, Prophet reflecting
what a tragedy it was that this pretty young girl, who should be
churning butter on a porch somewhere and daydreaming about the
neighbor boy who sparked her on Saturday nights was instead riding
the vengeance trail, her eyes flat and cunning, her innocence lost
without a trace.
    He waited awhile before asking
her if she ’d
been alone since she’d started hunting the Red River
Gang.
    ‘ Except for nights with farm folk here and there,’ she said,
the color returning to her cheeks. ‘I try to stay away from people.
Men, especially.’
    Prophet glanced at her
sheepishly. ‘Well, not all men are bad, Louisa,’ he said, casting her a
reassuring smile. ‘How ‘bout ridin’ with me awhile?’
    She jerked a suspicious look at
him. ‘Wouldn’t you just like that?’ She looked him up and down,
mostly down. ‘Why, you got rascal written all over you!’
    Prophet flushed,
offended. ‘I
do not!’
    ‘ Yes,
you do.’
    ‘ Listen, Missy, I’ve never once in my life laid a hand on a
woman who didn’t want me to. Never needed to!’
    She looked him over again, but
this time she didn ’t say anything and her eyes were hard to
figure.
    His anger waning—the girl was
right to be suspicious of strangers—Prophet shrugged. ‘I just meant, why
not throw in together for a while? We’re both alone, and we share
the same objective. And hell, considerin’ how we cleaned up those
four back in Campbell, I’d say we make a pretty good team.’ He
really just didn’t like the thought of such a pretty young girl
being all alone out here. It gave him a lonely, haunted
feeling.
    She didn ’t reply for nearly a minute.
‘I’d have to think on it. I can’t go gettin’ mixed up with some
stranger.’
    ‘ You
think about it, then,’ Prophet said. ‘In the meantime, we might as
well ride to Wahpeton together. That’s where the gang’s
headed.’
    Louisa shrugged
noncommittally. ‘I reckon it couldn’t hurt to ride together that
far.’
    ‘ I
have a stop by the river, though. I caught one of ‘em this mornin’,
and I left him tied to a tree.’
    ‘ You
did!’
    Prophet grinned proudly. ‘Yes,
ma’am.’
    ‘ Which
one?’
    ‘ Didn’t tell me his name.’
    ‘ Well,
what are we waitin’ for?’ she said impatiently, spurring the Morgan
into a gallop.
    They rode hard for fifteen
minutes, and then the river came into view over a hill. At first,
Prophet couldn ’t remember where he’d left his prisoner, but then he
recognized a landmark and headed toward a clump of trees in a
southward curve in the Ottertail.
    Riding up to the copse, he dismounted, and
Louisa Bonaventure did the same. They tied their horses to low
branches, then Prophet followed the trail of bent grass into the
trees, Louisa following closely behind.
    The prisoner was asleep but
woke with a start when Prophet kicked the man ’s foot. ‘You still alive?’
Prophet asked the man.
    The man ’s voice was raspy and he was
breathing hard. ‘Kiss my ass,’ he growled. His arm was