A Girl's Guide to Guns and Monsters - Martin Harry Greenberg [3]
There’d been that about Jake that made people give him and Prudence service, even as they dripped disapproval.
The little blond girl watched intently as Prudence asked for coffee, bacon, and beans. For new socks. For a little bag of peppermint drops. Prudence ventured a smile. The little girl vanished behind the counter again.
The child had fair skin to go with her fair hair. She was surprisingly untanned for one who lived under the punishing southwestern sun. Prudence took a second look when the round face peeked out again. No. This child hadn’t always been kept away from the sun. Her fairness was that of tan fading, not of one who had always been kept inside or with her face ruthlessly shadowed by a sunbonnet.
That meant the little girl’s parents—Prudence took a look at Mr. Eli, now stiffly climbing a ladder behind the counter to reach something on an upper shelf—her grandparents must watch over her carefully.
Prudence felt her face tighten, remembering a time she had not watched carefully, a time she had failed, and someone else had paid the price.
When her purchases were spread on the counter, they dickered a bit over the prices. In the end, when Mr. Eli threw in a couple of cotton bandanas to sweeten the deal, Prudence felt that the mood was such that she could ask a few questions.
“Any news of the road?”
“What sort of news?”
“Trouble someone traveling alone should avoid,” Prudence said. Watching the shopkeeper carefully, she added, “Things like sheep being killed. Cattle, maybe, too, but definitely sheep or smaller domestic animals. Maybe a person or two going missing, especially a young person. Maybe a very old person, but more likely someone young.”
And fat, and tender . . . Prudence thought, but didn’t say aloud.
Mr. Eli went tense. The little girl looked flat-out scared, but there was something else in her expression, something about the set of the chin that Prudence noticed.
Neither said anything. That lack of answer was almost as eloquent as a speech would have been.
Prudence gathered up her purchases. When Mr. Eli bent to help her with one of her bundles, Prudence slipped a bag of peppermint drops to the little girl.
“I followed a stream into town,” Prudence said as Mr. Eli was helping her load her purchases into Trick’s saddle bags. “Anyone mind too much if I camp there?”
“There’s a stand of cottonwood,” Mr. Eli said, not quite answering her questions. “When folks come in for market and don’t want to stay at the hotel for one reason or another, they often camp there.”
“Thank you,” Prudence said. “Good afternoon.”
She swung into the saddle, but didn’t head directly to that stand of cottonwoods. Instead, she found a reliable-looking livery stable and arranged to have Buck and Trick cleaned up and fed.
“I’m going for some grub,” Prudence said, sliding her rifle out of the saddle boot.
“You may leave your saddlebags here,” the hostler said. He was a short, thickset man, and his words were flavored with the music of a Spanish accent. “I will watch them for you.”
“Gracias,” Prudence said. Buck was a good judge of character, and the stallion was already lipping the hair on the hostler’s arm. Her bags would be safe. “I should be back in a couple of hours.”
“If you go to the hotel, ask for my niece, Maria,” the man said. “She waits tables there and does some of the cooking. She’ll set you up real good if you tell her Ricardo sent you.”
“I appreciate it,” Prudence said. “Let me get a few things from my bag. They’ll like me better in the dining room if I don’t have trail dust on me.”
Ricardo smiled a short, humorless smile. “They’ll like having you. Business, it has been slow.”
Ah, Prudence thought. That explains the welcome. Ricardo must have seen Mr. Eli helping me with my purchases. I bet the old man only does that for a cash customer. Good as a written reference then. When times are tough, even a woman in trousers is welcome if she can pay her way.
Ricardo turned to the horses. Prudence went over to the hotel.
A weary-looking young woman met her at the entry to the