Rainbows and Rapture Read Free Page B

suitability as a client. Like many of the other men in the saloon, he looked to be a drifter. But he was too self-assured, too relaxed to be a down-on-his-luck wanderer. There was an air about him. One that whispered “money” instead of “broke.”
    With that peculiar but not unpleasant tingle still seeping through her, Russia lifted her chin and headed for him.
     
     

Chapter Two
     
     
    As the girl strolled toward him, Santiago saw the impish ascent of her dainty chin and the excitement sparkling in her big, liquid eyes. He’d never seen hair as long as hers, and watched as it rippled across her hips and thighs. Her split skirt parted as she walked, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of her slender leg.
    She was the most beautiful girl he’d seen in a very long time. The thought almost made him smile. If her ugly voice weren’t encased in such a gorgeous body, she’d starve trying to make a living from singing.
    Living, he repeated silently. Her source of livelihood was prostitution.
    Whore. As the word exploded into his mind, unbidden memories rose, filling him with hatred, sorrow, rage, and a need to vent those painful emotions. His fingers turned white around his whiskey glass.
    Eyes hardening, he continued to watch her approach.
    The look he gave her slowed Russia’s advance. There was a snap in his gaze. It made her think of a whip, a black, lashing whip. She stopped, feeling a shred of fear creep through her. His ebony eyes seemed to capture her own, and try as she did, she couldn’t escape their powerful pull. Their glitter both enticed and frightened her; she tried to understand what it was about the man that so unnerved her. Biting her bottom lip, she gave him a slight nod of her head, hoping he would understand her invitation.
    Santiago felt a blaze of desire when he saw her nibble at her rosy lip. He needed a woman tonight. Weeks had passed since he’d last bedded one. He’d use this one well, tell her exactly what he thought of her, then refuse to pay her. Being denied money was exactly what she and all her kind deserved. And she wouldn’t object, either. He knew she wouldn’t. Just like all other whores, just like every person he encountered, she’d be too afraid of him.
    He ignored the pang of torment that thought brought and slid on his black hat. Well aware that every man in the room was avoiding eye contact with him, he walked straight out of the saloon. The girl would follow, he knew. He had but to wait. As the door swung behind him, he suspected he wouldn’t have to wait long.
    Dumbfounded, Russia stared until she could no longer see him. As if she’d known the man forever, she felt his absence keenly. Hurrying to the gaping hole that used to be a window, she saw him cross the dusty street and stop before a small child. Just as he reached out to pat the little boy on the head, a primly dressed woman, who Russia presumed was the mother, raced into the street, gathered the lad into her arms, and rushed away with him. Though she couldn’t be sure, Russia thought she saw the gunslinger stiffen before he disappeared into the Hamlett Hotel.
    “Come away from there before he sees ya starin’ after him, Miss Russia,” a man behind her counseled. “You don’t want nothin’ to do with that one.”
    “Sure don’t,” another agreed. “That was Santiago Zamora.”
    She turned away from the window hole, puzzled over what the men had said. “Who’s Santiago Zamora?”
    “Who is he?” Mort asked. “He ain’t only the greatest mustanger who ever held reins in his hands, he’s the best bounty hunter in the land! There ain’t never been a gunman like Santiago Zamora.”
    “For a damn fortune,” the first man said, “he can turn a worthless nag into the finest mount a man could ever hope to have, and he can do it quicker’n a hiccup. Some say he speaks horse. And he’s the one who brung in that murderous bastard, Uriah Oswald, last year. Got him five thousand dollars for doin’ it,