John C. Horst's Blog, page 22

“Not just yet, darling, not just yet.”

Irene Carranza He made her coffee and breakfast and prepared for the journey back home. There’d be no secrets from now on. “Come on, Mags, let’s go. We got a wedding to plan.”
He glanced at her only to see she had thrown off the blanket. Laying back, opening her arms, she reached for the love of her life.
“Not just yet, darling, not just yet.” ALLINGHAM

“Do you really think I had a three month gestation?”

Irene Carranza “My God! Rebecca, you’re going to get knocked up.”
“I don’t care.”
“I can’t believe you.” She was pleased with her sister. Rebecca never did anything wrong and now she had, and she didn’t even care.
“Mamma’s going to kill you if she finds out.”
Rebecca smiled at that thought. It didn’t make her cringe at all. “Marta, when is Mamma and Daddy’s anniversary?”
“September tenth.”
“When’s my birthday?”
“December ninth.”
“Do you really think I had a three month gestation?” She laughed at her little joke, the little secret that everyone knew. She continued on. “I don’t care about anything but him. I don’t want anything but him. I’m not hungry or thirsty or tired. I don’t want anything but him, Marta.” THE MULE TAMER III, MARTA'S QUEST

“No, Francis. I would have to have a table that was as long as the barracks to accommodate so many of my dead.”

“You know, in our country, we are Catholic. But there is the pagan celebration, el Día de los Muertos, the day of the dead.”

“Many people believe that the dead are among us all the time, and many even set a table for them, just as if they were alive.”
“And you, do you do this, Mamacita?”
“No, Francis. I would have to have a table that was as long as the barracks to accommodate so many of my dead.” She smiled and crossed herself. ALLINGHAM

He was afraid of her, she could tell, and this was not a man who, according to his record, was much afraid of anything.

Kate Horst Allingham was fascinating to her and she looked him over again more carefully. He returned her gaze from under his hooded brow, looking anywhere but into her eyes. That intrigued her as well. He was afraid of her, she could tell, and this was not a man who, according to his record, was much afraid of anything.
ALLINGHAM

"That was better than, better than the best thing that’s ever happened to me, I swear."

Rachel Matos This time it was even better. They took their time and slowly built the passion and found their rhythm. He felt her shudder and he moved just enough to keep her in her happy place.
“Mags, I, I have to say.”
She could feel his lovely smile. “Mags, that was the best thing that’s ever happened in my life. That was better than, better than the best thing that’s ever happened to me, I swear. That was better than once when I was out all night in the winter, and I finally made it back home and I got in bed, right under a big blanket and lyin’ next to  the fire and all the feelin’ got back in my hands and feet. It was better’n that. It was better’n the one time when I was out on the range and I came upon a whole cowboy outfit some fellow’d left, for God knows why, but there was a nice saddle and six shooter and Winchester, and even three hundred dollars. It was better’n that. It was better than…”
“Francis?”
“Yes, Mags?”
“Shush.”
“Yes, Mags.” ALLINGHAM

“I sure am glad we met. I sure am glad I got to know you.”

John Farnsworth She felt him trembling next to her. She put her arm around his shoulders, pulling him tightly to her, trying to make the shaking stop.
“Rosario?”
“Yes, Francis?”
“I sure am glad we met. I sure am glad I got to know you.” He reached over and kissed her gently on the cheek.
“Me, too, Francis.” She choked back her tears. She did not want to cry in front of him now. “Me, too.” ALLINGHAM

"Why, you’re just a little girl.”

Rachel Matos They all walked along together, the Irishmen bringing up the rear, Francis walking abreast of Allingham. The little girl ran up next to Francis and smiled. “What’s your name?”
“Francis.”
She pointed at Allingham. “What’s his name?”
“He’s the Captain. You just call him Captain.” He pointed back at the Irishmen. “That’s Mike and the other is Paddy. They’re twins, ya know.”
“I can see that.” She looked at him in a way that a little girl should not be familiar with when it came to looking at a man. “I ain’t seen you in the house.”
“No, no. Don’t do that sorta thing.” Francis looked away, embarrassed. He could feel his face redden.
“I do.” She grinned.
“Well, ya oughtn’t. It ain’t right. Why, you’re just a little girl.” Francis looked on at her with a pained expression. “Who clobbered ya anyway?”
“Oh, no one.” She skipped along and followed the men and Francis looked on and enjoyed the child acting like a child for a change. “What’s your name?”
“Janie.”
He tipped his hat. “Well, Miss Janie, where’s yer ma and pa?”
“Hah. I ain’t gotta pa. Ma’s a whore, but she died last spring. Now I’m on my own.”
Francis thought on it as he walked and watched the child. He should have made inquiries but he didn’t. He should have asked permission of the captain, or at least Hobbs, but didn’t.
He let Allingham and the Irishmen march on, and pulled Janie aside. He’d catch up to them eventually. “You come on with me, Miss Janie.” She smiled when he called her that, “You ain’t allowed in the brothel any longer, there’s an ordinance against that.”
“What’s a ordinance?” Allingham

She broke hearts everywhere and she didn’t intend to do that. She didn’t like making good people sad.

Maria found herself in a lively town that she’d not visited before. She found some Indian women there selling beautiful silver jewelry and decked herself out accordingly. She let them pierce her ears and she got some pretty earrings to go with the bangles on each arm. She looked stunning in her new finery and decided that she would begin collecting pretty ornaments and wear them wherever she went. This would be more confounding to men and would help her maintain the upper hand.

She looked into her mirror and was pleased and thought that she’d better not wear these around the lady fence as that might break her heart further. She felt a little wicked and proud at that thought. Not that she wanted to hurt the lady, but it was a nice feeling to know that someone loved her and desired her so much. She thought about the prospector, too. It was something Maria would have to be careful about from now on. She broke hearts everywhere and she didn’t intend to do that. She didn’t like making good people sad. Maria's Trail

“Ah, Tarahumara.” He felt some more. “What a lovely.”

Pola Lopez “Hola, Señor.”
He looked up with vacant eyes and smiled in her direction.
“Ah, a visitor.”
“I have come at the request of Marta.”
“Sí” He motioned for her to sit down. “You are one of the fighters?”
“Sí. I am Maria, wife of Arvel Walsh.” The old man acted as if this had no meaning to him.
“Come close, my dear.” She sat beside him and he reached out, gently running his hands over her face, touching her koyera. He had smooth, gentle hands. They were completely clean, the cleanest thing Chica had seen that day. “Ah, Tarahumara.” He felt some more. “What a lovely.”
 He moved his fingers over her eyes, then her cheeks and lips. “But you do not have the right accent.”
“The Indios gave me the scarf when I moved through their land, Señor. I am Mexicana, and now an Americana.”
“Ah, I see. And the child, she is all right?”
“Sí, she is in El Mundo.”
“Ah, bueno, bueno, Señora.” He had a kind face and looked like a living skeleton. He was all bones barely covered with skin. He had a long white beard but no hair on his head, his moustaches started up his nose and flowed downward to his chin.
Chica liked the old man. She looked around his little half-cave and saw the remains of Marta’s ministrations. She’d stored plenty of food and water for him. He had a little cook stove and plenty of coffee.
“She will live with me, now.”
“Sí, sí.” He was pleased to hear this news. He went back to paging through the book. Chica figured it was just a method of keeping his hands occupied. It made no sense for a blind man to page through a book.
“And she wants you to come with me, so that you will live with me as well.”
“Oh, no Señora, no, no.” He smiled broadly and answered in his gentle, gentlemanly voice. “I am here, this is where I belong.”
She was tired and answered him a little too tersely. Chica was not used to being refused. “Old man, the fort is no more. We are going to make it a pile of rubble and ash. Sombrero del Oro is no more.” The Mule Tamer II, Chica's Ride

“Fight well, Francis. Fight well.”

Sarah Holloway “Mr. Allingham, may I suggest you and Francis get back to town. You will be needed there. You will need to help fight these men and your people will be outnumbered and taken unawares. I’ll go get the ones who’ve ridden north.”
“This isn’t your business, Mr. Singh.”
The Sikh looked at the corpses of the ladies lying nearby. Then he looked Allingham in the eye. “You know well enough that is not true, Mr. Allingham. This is all my business. To the very core of my being, this is my business.” He turned slowly and mounted up. He looked down on Francis and grabbed the young man firmly on the shoulder, giving it a fatherly squeeze. “Fight well, Francis. Fight well.” He kicked his mount’s sides and was gone. Allingham