Down the Mother Lode by Vivia Hemphill
page 17 of 113 (15%)
page 17 of 113 (15%)
|
"Cause? Why, you Spanish jade, you've never been the same to me since Rattlesnake Dick came prowling back from Shasta county to his old haunts in Placer." Rosa's thin, red lips curled. "Senor, I am what it pleases me to be." "And Jack Phillips permits you to be!" She shrugged her slender shoulders. "He wearies me. Life - this place - wearies me." "Yes, and I weary you, too - now. Plain as day, it is." The Phillips woman smiled (she seldom laughed) and there was only cruelty in her smile - no kindliness, no womanly softness of any sort. "My friend, soon there will be no 'you.' The night is coming and there will be no sunrise." A man dismounted at the gate and led his horse past the window to the stables in the cellar. He walked with a curious, halting pace. "There's Jim Driscoll back already. Must bring news," said Bell, leaving her hurriedly, and so neglecting to ask the meaning of her cryptic remark. Rosa slipped in behind the bar, late that evening, beautifully gowned, and with her dark hair dressed high. Her vivid face glowed like a |
|