Guadalupe's Tears Read online

  Guadalupe’s Tears

  The Velvet Morning Saga

  Angelique Videaul

  Published by Phaze Books

  Also by Angelique Videaul

  Le Cirque d’ Erotique*

  *Forthcoming

  This is an explicit and erotic novel

  intended for the enjoyment

  of adult readers. Please keep

  out of the hands of children.

  www.Phaze.com

  Guadalupe’s Tears

  Copyright © 2013 by Angelique Videaul

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Edited by Judy Bagshaw

  Cover Art © 2013 by Fiona Jayde

  First Edition January 2013

  Ebook ISBN-13: 978-1-60659-713-2

  Published by:

  Phaze Books

  An imprint of Mundania Press LLC

  6457 Glenway Ave., #109

  Cincinnati, OH 45211

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher, Mundania Press LLC, 6457 Glenway Avenue, #109, Cincinnati, Ohio 45211, [email protected].

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

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  “How she gave me life; and how she made it end. One velvet morning...”

  ~Lee Hazelwood

  Chapter One

  August 27th, 1852

  The sun was a drop of blood poised in the cleavage of bare breasted mountains by the time Lee Hardcastle trudged up the dirt road that dead ended at the tiny town of Casey, Texas. His saddle and bedroll were tossed over his shoulder along with one anemic looking saddle bag that swung limply behind him. An empty canteen patted his hip as he strode down the dusty red clay road looking for the livery stables. The palisade of bald mountains cast eerie shadows down upon the small town and the sun, huge, red and bloated, sat poised between the mountains like a ruby caught between the breasts of a dangerous woman.

  Lee eased his possessions onto the ground. He removed a faded bandana, stiff with sweat and grime, from his hip pocket and wiped his face. Replacing the bandana, Lee studied his surroundings, and as he did so, he was unsure if he wanted to stay in town or not.

  Casey was typical of tiny western towns that knew a brief boom, and then vaporized almost overnight in the West Texas heat. A decaying Catholic mission squatted in the center of town. Buildings, shabbily constructed of adobe and wood that the elements reduced to a wind burned gray, huddled around the mission as if in comfort. A few tired looking horses, brown and dust covered, swished their tails absently as they stood against hitching posts waiting for their masters to return.

  If it weren’t for the horses Lee was sure the town had been abandoned.

  True enough, small towns liked to close down around sunset, with the exception of the saloon which carried on all night long, especially if ranchers from outlying areas used this small stop to pause and rejuvenate themselves before driving the herd on to San Angelo. At least that’s what Lee assumed, but found it strange that there were no cattle pens on the edge of town. This suggested that nobody stopped in Casey if they could help it. And I won’t either, he thought as he retrieved his tack, if I can get a horse before the livery closes up for the night.

  Lee found the livery on the right hand side of the mission. He approached the dark maw of the barn, feeling somewhat unsettled. He stopped for an instant and looked behind him, certain that he was being watched. He peeked inside half expecting it to be vacant, but found to his relief that it was not. Two youths were working inside; one was around eleven years old with hair the color of the straw he was tossing, and the other a redheaded boy of around sixteen. Neither of them seemed to notice his arrival.

  Lee cleared his throat, hoping to catch their attention. His shadow lay out long and lean against the floor as he watched the tow-headed youth with a gimp leg continue to bed down the stall. The boy noticed the shadow, paused and looked at him. Before Lee could speak, the boy ducked his head, tossed the pitchfork into the hay and limped outside to the corral out back. He hobbled over to a heavy-set man directing water into a trough. He nodded to the boy, wiped his hands on his overalls and stepped up to Lee with one meaty hand outstretched.

  “Comanches?” the man asked conversationally as he offered Lee his hand.

  “Sandbar,” Lee replied, accepting the man’s hand. “Damned thing got my stud when he tried scrambling up the bank. I was lucky to get out myself.”

  “Lucky man indeed,” The liveryman said, eyeing the saddle as he released Lee’s hand. “The Concho is bad low but high enough to cover a sandbar or two.” He spat out a wad of tobacco as if in emphasis then added, “Surprised you managed to get your saddle.”

  Lee offered the man a weary smile, “It was a fight but I managed.”

  “You’ll be staying in town then.”

  “I’m hoping to get a horse. I gotta get back on the road.”

  “Where you headed?”

  “Fort Stockton. I was hoping to get a few miles closer by the time the moon rises.”

  “I’ve got a gelding out back you might be interested in, but you’ll want to see him good in the daylight. He’s a scrub but damned sturdy. He’ll do to get you to Stockton. And you can leave your tack here; I won’t charge you nothing for that.”

  “Can’t sell the gelding to me now?”

  “Sorry, but I’m a fixing to close up. The boys and I don’t live in town and it’s a five mile trip back to the ranch. I like to be home before sundown all on account of the wife being expecting and all.”

  “Looks like you’re not gonna make it,” Lee said, squinting at the bloated sun settling between the mountains.

  “We’ll make it in time if we leave right now, which is what we’re a finna do.” The stableman paused, chewed on his lower lip in contemplation. “I’d take you on up to my place but there ain’t no room, especially not with the new baby. You’d have to sleep in the barn, and there’s no call for that, not with the Paragon right down the street there. I hear they’ve got real feather beds and a water closet too.”

  “I don’t mean to pry, but didn’t you say you’re wife is expecting?”

  “Yeah,” the stableman said, flushing. “It was a surprise to us too, especially since little James is only three months old.”

 
; “It happens,” Lee said, thinking back to his sister Bess, who had two children nine months apart. Despite this, Lee was certain the liveryman was lying to him. If he didn’t want to put me up for the night, all he had to do was just say so, Lee thought.

  “I understand.” Lee said, looking out toward town once again.

  “The Paragon’s real nice. You can get a bath and a shave. They also put on a little supper too. Their stew is pretty good. Bath is a nickel, kinda high if you ask me, but with water getting scarce—”

  Lee touched the brim of his hat. “Thankee,” he said “But if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather go ahead and buy that gelding from you now and be on my way.”

  “Ah, there ain’t no call for that. It can keep till morning.” The liveryman paused, and Lee thought he looked ‘twitchy.’ “Like I said, we’re fixing to leave and you look like you’re about to drop in your tracks. Besides, there’s Comanches out in those mountains. They’ll skin you alive if they catch you.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Lee said doubtfully.

  “And we do have the Paragon.” The livery man reiterated, his face flushing a violent shade of purple. “It don’t look like much from the outside but it’s the best saloon between here and San Angelo.” He pointed at the run down building constructed of a mashed together mess of shiplap and adobe “There’s some nice looking gals that work there too, in case you get lonesome.”

  “Awful quiet for a saloon,” Lee stated as he stepped further out into the street.

  The liveryman laughed as he joined him. “It is now, but wait till the cattle drive comes through. It’ll liven up.”

  “And when will that be?”

  “October,” the stableman said.

  “Awful late in the year for a cattle drive,” Lee noted. “And I find it peculiar there ain’t no cattle pens.”

  His companion flushed again, the fine muscles around his eyes twitching as he stared out toward the mountains.

  “Tornado took out the corral last spring,” the stableman said after a lengthy pause, “and the cotton shed too.”

  “You’re lying to me,” Lee said quietly.

  “Well—” the stableman stuttered. He looked over his shoulder, his behavior odd, nervous, as if he were being watched.

  “What’s going on?” Lee demanded.

  “Nothing.”

  “You don’t look like a man who’s worrying about nothing,” Lee noted. “And you’ve lied to me, twice already. Once about your wife and again about the cattle pens, so what are you playing at?”

  “Nothing Mister, honest.”

  “Why are you so interested in getting me into the Paragon?”

  “I don’t mean no harm, mister. It’s just that we don’t get many strangers around here, and the bartender is my wife’s brother. I just thought he could use the extra money.”

  It was a feasible explanation, yet something didn’t set right about the way the stable master looked at him and out toward the bald mountains in the distance. It made him nervous. Almost nervous enough to go out of town and sleep under the first mesquite tree he came to. He cast a furtive glance at the Paragon, again feeling that chill that had nothing to do with the weather.

  “I’ll pay you triple whatever you’re offering for that horse if you’ll get it out now.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t. I really have to be going,” the stableman stammered, mopping sweat off of his forehead with a bandana that might once have been red. “Boys,” he called as he stuffed the stiff piece of cloth back into his hip pocket. “Come on, Shep. It’s getting late.”

  Lee stepped back out onto the windswept red dirt road and watched as the liveryman and his boys drove off into the dusk. Feeling strangely abandoned, he crossed the street and stepped onto the boardwalk. As if on cue people left the shops and hurried out into the street. Several tired looking women wearing long black veils rushed scabby kneed children onto buckboards while their husbands waited with nervous tension at the reins. Odd, Lee thought, I didn’t see them a minute ago. Where did they come from?

  Lee saw a preacher approaching and he tipped his hat. “Nice evening for it, enit, parson?” he asked. The minister turned on his heel and fled across the street, his black jacket flapping in the hot dry air as he went.

  Puzzled, Lee watched as the minister disappeared down a side street. Several people were on the other side of the red dirt road, clumped together like branding steers. He noticed with an uncomfortable sensation forming in his guts that they were staring at him. And not in an offhanded friendly way when people see strangers come into their midst, but in a scared, trapped animal sort of way. Several Mexicans saw him too. They crossed themselves and rode quickly out of town.

  Within minutes, Lee was the only man left on the boardwalk

  Again, Lee considered leaving town and sleeping under the nearest grove of mesquite trees, but his provisions went down with his horse. Yet his instincts told him that staying here was a catastrophically bad idea. Unless he intended to strike out in the morning without his saddle and no food or water, he’d have to stay in Casey whether he wanted to or not.

  “It’s just a town,” he muttered to himself. “You’ve been riding so long that you’ve forgotten how it feels to be around folks. Keep being unneighborly and you’ll go feral altogether.”

  Chapter Two

  Lee stepped through the swinging doors of the Paragon saloon and looked around. It was average in appearance, similar to every other saloon he’d visited since he was fourteen. A long bar composed of darkish wood comprised the back of the building. A staircase on the right hand side led to the upstairs rooms. Shabby tables with tired looking occupants played dominoes or poker while sipping stale whiskey. Saloon girls huddled like tattered hens in the corner. The piano sat silent, devoid of company.

  Three day riders occupied the bar. They hunched over their drinks, silent as death as the bartender offered Lee a strange glance and a faint shake of his head.

  Lee ignored the bartender as his eyes riveted to a large portrait behind the bar.

  The painting depicted woman with porcelain skin and hair the color of dried blood. It wasn’t the woman’s striking figure that he noticed so much as he did her eyes, which were the queerest color he had ever seen. He sat down on the nearest barstool, his eyes never leaving the portrait.

  “Odd picture,” Lee commented to the bartender.

  The bartender stared at him like a rabbit caught in a snare. “We’re out of everything. It’s best you be on your way,” he said under his breath.

  “You’re telling me that you don’t have a drop of liquor in the place?”

  “That’s what I’m telling you, mister,” the bartender said.

  Lee heard barstool legs scraping against the heavy planked floor. The day riders approached. . Lee groaned to himself. The last thing he wanted was to get into a bar fight in a peculiar town that didn’t seem to care much for strangers.

  “Okay I’ll take a room then. And a bath and a shave.”

  “Sorry, we’re all full up.”

  Lee felt his temper rise. He also felt the heat of the men who had moved closer toward him, circling him.

  “I suppose there ain’t no grub either

  “You’d be right, pilgrim.”

  Lee slammed down his canteen. “Can you at least fill up my canteen?”

  “There’s a horse trough outside,” the bartender replied, staring at the canteen as if Lee had just tossed a rattler onto the bar.

  “Well if that ain’t the biggest bunch of bullshit I’ve ever heard,” Lee stated. “Your brother- in-law practically dragged me in here. He insisted—”

  “I ain’t got no brother-in-law,” the barkeep replied, his tone flat.

  “But the liveryman said—”

  “I don’t know who you talked to mister, but we ain’t got no livery. The stable master died two years ago.”

  “Two years,” Lee started, stunned. His expression turned to granite. “What are you people play
ing at?”

  “We ain’t playing at nothing. You’re the one who ain’t got his facts straight.”

  The day riders drew nearer still. Lee could feel their closeness; catch the scent of stale whiskey on their breath. The mixed aroma of body odor, horse, leather and tobacco was as stifling as the darkness and heat of the saloon. Jangling holsters unnerved him; the sweet scent of a well oiled gun just fingertips away from being drawn made the delicate hairs on the back of his arms go up. Yet, Lee stood his ground. “What kind of a place is this where a man can’t even fill his canteen?”

  “The kind that wants you gone,” the shorter, swarthier of the three day riders said. “If you’re smart you’ll get out of here and you won’t come back.”

  “And you won’t tell nobody about us neither,” said the wiry day rider who was standing behind him. “Not if you know what’s good for you,”

  “Nothing would give me greater pleasure to get out of your...town...” Lee scathed. “But I have a little problem with that. I ain’t got a horse, and your livery man took off like his ass was ablaze.”

  “Sounds like a tough luck story to me, friend,” the swarthy man said.

  “And like Bruce said, we ain’t got no livery.”

  “You can always go out and sleep with the injuns, if you can catch one. Them Comanche gals are pretty hard to hold I hear.” The third one snickered.

  “I don’t give a shit about that,” Lee blurted. “And you’re right, boys. I think I will be on my way.” He backed slowly away from the bar, bumping the wiry man hard on the shoulder as he went. He tipped his hat to the picture on behind the bar. “And give my regards to the lady in the picture.”

  All three men stiffened. The wiry day rider put his hand on his holster. “I think it’s best you be gone now,” he said softly. “Sundown is on us. You won’t want to be here when the sun goes down.”