Texas was hot as a donkey’s asshole that time of year. She wanted to wave something in front of her face to cool off, especially while the saloon was still packed with all those people, all that body heat, but she refrained. If any of these gabachos got the wrong idea about her, that she was an easy mark, well, who knew what they would try to do to her?
The dirty blond in the corner kept looking at her. He’s the one she’d come to talk to. Problem is, she didn’t have the slightest bit of attraction to his squinty-eyed, thin-nosed, cuckoo-clock crazy face, or the quick, jerky rhythm of his movements. He’d look around like a bird every minute or so, and there was someone else he’d had his eye on besides her. She’d had her eye on that guy too.
Conchi Santiago—she’d taken a Spanish name when she left Yucatan in order to blend in—fingered her gun as her target fidgeted at his table. He was the only person in here besides Conchi and the crazy gabacho in the corner who was alone, and now it worried him. It dawned on him that he was being watched, and he didn’t like it.
He was remarkable in that he was as tall as Conchi’s waist, and his feet dangled off his chair and swung back and forth as he nervously kept an eye on his surroundings. His hat was as big as he was. The beer in front of him did little to calm his nerves, but he kept drinking it anyway, holding it with both stubby hands because the mugs in this shithole didn’t have handles. The only other people in here were entrepreneurs heading west to look for success. Big, dirty, sweaty men who you didn’t cross without paying for it. Conchi’s target certainly knew what he’d gotten himself into, and he finally decided to leave.
Conchi and the nut in the corner locked eyes all of a sudden. They had both tensed to get up when the little guy bobbed toward the door. Now what?
She smiled saucily at him. Throw him off. He grinned back, a gap-toothed grin that reflected vile thoughts, and Conchi swallowed her gorge in order to deal with him. He nodded toward the door as the two of them got closer.
“Be back in a few,” he said by way of dismissing her, but she followed him out and placed her hand on his shoulder. He turned around with unexpected force, as if anticipating some drunken fool who wanted to pick a fight. When he saw it was her, he rolled his eyes and walked backward off the raised boardwalk in front of the saloon.
“Got some quick business, you mi--”
She cold-cocked him.
“I do mind, actually,” she said to his unconscious form, as she hopped over it and into the dusty street.
Great, now where’s that little Gabacho freak gone?
She ran toward the alley between the corner saloon and the business beside it and pressed her back to the wall as she peered around the corner. There was the little man, climbing atop a little horse. It wasn’t a pony. It was like him.
Two birds, one stone.
She drew her piece and waited. She took a couple deep breaths to calm herself down. This was murder, to be sure, but it was necessary. These people were wrong in the eyes of God. Their parents, their society, someone somewhere had done something wrong, and these people were the price. So were the animals which resembled them. At least she kept her hands calm so she could aim.
“You tryin’ to kill the freak too?”
She nearly jumped out of her skin, and barely stifled her yelp when he decided to announce himself by way of a whisper. It was that crazy fool she’d punched.
Guess I need to work on my swing.
“You really oughta work on your swing,” he told her with a cocky smile.
“Tell me about it,” she whispered back, then turned back toward the corner, agitated, and swayed back and forth on the balls of her feet.
They both caught the sound of a horse and readied themselves. Conchi was about to bring her weapon to bear when the crazy guy’s arm swung up in front of her, his gun out, and offered her less than a foot of space between him and the wall behind her.
“What the hell y--”
BOOM!
A tiny horse thundered into view, and just as quickly dropped to its side on the ground. A pool of blood formed around its shattered skull. The little man was pinned under its mass, and he struggled to pull his leg free as he stared wide-eyed at his horse’s killer, who advanced on him with a demented gleam.
“Please! I don’t want any trouble!”
“You step outta the way, stupid gabacho,” Conchi demanded. This guy was going to take all her fun.
When did I start to think of this as fun? She wondered. It’s my duty. It makes me sick, but I have to do it. So why do I care all of a sudden if he does this instead of me?
He smiled back at her. “Come on, princess! You really think I’m gonna leave bloodshed to a lady?” He touched the tip of his hat with his gun by way of a polite gesture, and then turned back to the little man on the ground.
“Why are you d-doing this?” the little man asked.
The crazy guy gave a barking, high-pitched chuckle. “Because you can’t get arrested for killin’ freaks.”
Conchi held herself in check and decided to let this guy do the deed. He was insane. If she challenged him, he might kill her too. Better to leave him on a long leash as an ally than tighten her grip and make him more unpredictable than he already was. At least he’d passed the test. He was almost everything she’d heard he was.
“Look, I have money—I’ll work for you!”
“Sorry, pal...all I’m interested in is makin’ a mess.” He fired. There were bits of bone and brain all over the ground, mixed into a bloody soup. The crazy guy then turned around and regarded Conchi with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
“I ain’t met many a lady didn’t mind seein’ violence,” he told her in a flirtatious tone.
She was frowning, her large brown eyes vulnerable, but he stood up to him—even though he was about six inches taller than her. He was wiry, and that lent her some confidence. She didn’t speak at first, so he added, “Wanna tell me why you hit me back there?”
“You were gonna go after him,” she indicated the dead midget, “but I didn’t want to take a chance that you’d lose him.”
He inclined his head with a realization. “Ahh, so you think you’re a better shot than me.”
“I think I’m better than you at a lot of things.” Her voice betrayed nothing, though her eyes remained vulnerable and she knew it. She didn’t know what this guy would do next. “Still, I could use you.”
He gave her a smirk. “Guess you know all about me, don’t you, little lady?”
“Mutation Matthias, but your real name’s Matthias Strafen. You’ve earned a reputation for killing Mutations--”
“--only killed three so far--”
“--and you’re on the hunt for more. How am I doing so far?”
“Make no mistake, little lady, I don’t got a problem with ‘em so far as most people do. No ma’am, I just like me some good old bloodshed now an’ again. Trouble is, most folks don’t take kindly to murder ‘less there’s a good reason to it. ‘Cause o’ that, well, I go after the freaks.”
“You’re pinche crazy,” she told him, baring her teeth with disgust.
Matthias offered her that winning smile again. “Fine by me. So you want me to go with you, huh?”
“There’s a lot of Mutations out there. Lot of work for one lady to do by herself.”
His smirk spread into a goofy grin. “Long as you let me have my fun, I’m all yours.”
Some people might have argued that the man they had killed that day was not a Mutation. Conchi didn’t suffer fools like that gladly. She didn’t have time for debate, and anyone who got in her way was a waste of time. Other than that, she had little reason to take on a lunatic like Matthias. She sighed with apprehension and held out her hand to him. It was time to locate more targets and more allies.
The dirty blond in the corner kept looking at her. He’s the one she’d come to talk to. Problem is, she didn’t have the slightest bit of attraction to his squinty-eyed, thin-nosed, cuckoo-clock crazy face, or the quick, jerky rhythm of his movements. He’d look around like a bird every minute or so, and there was someone else he’d had his eye on besides her. She’d had her eye on that guy too.
Conchi Santiago—she’d taken a Spanish name when she left Yucatan in order to blend in—fingered her gun as her target fidgeted at his table. He was the only person in here besides Conchi and the crazy gabacho in the corner who was alone, and now it worried him. It dawned on him that he was being watched, and he didn’t like it.
He was remarkable in that he was as tall as Conchi’s waist, and his feet dangled off his chair and swung back and forth as he nervously kept an eye on his surroundings. His hat was as big as he was. The beer in front of him did little to calm his nerves, but he kept drinking it anyway, holding it with both stubby hands because the mugs in this shithole didn’t have handles. The only other people in here were entrepreneurs heading west to look for success. Big, dirty, sweaty men who you didn’t cross without paying for it. Conchi’s target certainly knew what he’d gotten himself into, and he finally decided to leave.
Conchi and the nut in the corner locked eyes all of a sudden. They had both tensed to get up when the little guy bobbed toward the door. Now what?
She smiled saucily at him. Throw him off. He grinned back, a gap-toothed grin that reflected vile thoughts, and Conchi swallowed her gorge in order to deal with him. He nodded toward the door as the two of them got closer.
“Be back in a few,” he said by way of dismissing her, but she followed him out and placed her hand on his shoulder. He turned around with unexpected force, as if anticipating some drunken fool who wanted to pick a fight. When he saw it was her, he rolled his eyes and walked backward off the raised boardwalk in front of the saloon.
“Got some quick business, you mi--”
She cold-cocked him.
“I do mind, actually,” she said to his unconscious form, as she hopped over it and into the dusty street.
Great, now where’s that little Gabacho freak gone?
She ran toward the alley between the corner saloon and the business beside it and pressed her back to the wall as she peered around the corner. There was the little man, climbing atop a little horse. It wasn’t a pony. It was like him.
Two birds, one stone.
She drew her piece and waited. She took a couple deep breaths to calm herself down. This was murder, to be sure, but it was necessary. These people were wrong in the eyes of God. Their parents, their society, someone somewhere had done something wrong, and these people were the price. So were the animals which resembled them. At least she kept her hands calm so she could aim.
“You tryin’ to kill the freak too?”
She nearly jumped out of her skin, and barely stifled her yelp when he decided to announce himself by way of a whisper. It was that crazy fool she’d punched.
Guess I need to work on my swing.
“You really oughta work on your swing,” he told her with a cocky smile.
“Tell me about it,” she whispered back, then turned back toward the corner, agitated, and swayed back and forth on the balls of her feet.
They both caught the sound of a horse and readied themselves. Conchi was about to bring her weapon to bear when the crazy guy’s arm swung up in front of her, his gun out, and offered her less than a foot of space between him and the wall behind her.
“What the hell y--”
BOOM!
A tiny horse thundered into view, and just as quickly dropped to its side on the ground. A pool of blood formed around its shattered skull. The little man was pinned under its mass, and he struggled to pull his leg free as he stared wide-eyed at his horse’s killer, who advanced on him with a demented gleam.
“Please! I don’t want any trouble!”
“You step outta the way, stupid gabacho,” Conchi demanded. This guy was going to take all her fun.
When did I start to think of this as fun? She wondered. It’s my duty. It makes me sick, but I have to do it. So why do I care all of a sudden if he does this instead of me?
He smiled back at her. “Come on, princess! You really think I’m gonna leave bloodshed to a lady?” He touched the tip of his hat with his gun by way of a polite gesture, and then turned back to the little man on the ground.
“Why are you d-doing this?” the little man asked.
The crazy guy gave a barking, high-pitched chuckle. “Because you can’t get arrested for killin’ freaks.”
Conchi held herself in check and decided to let this guy do the deed. He was insane. If she challenged him, he might kill her too. Better to leave him on a long leash as an ally than tighten her grip and make him more unpredictable than he already was. At least he’d passed the test. He was almost everything she’d heard he was.
“Look, I have money—I’ll work for you!”
“Sorry, pal...all I’m interested in is makin’ a mess.” He fired. There were bits of bone and brain all over the ground, mixed into a bloody soup. The crazy guy then turned around and regarded Conchi with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
“I ain’t met many a lady didn’t mind seein’ violence,” he told her in a flirtatious tone.
She was frowning, her large brown eyes vulnerable, but he stood up to him—even though he was about six inches taller than her. He was wiry, and that lent her some confidence. She didn’t speak at first, so he added, “Wanna tell me why you hit me back there?”
“You were gonna go after him,” she indicated the dead midget, “but I didn’t want to take a chance that you’d lose him.”
He inclined his head with a realization. “Ahh, so you think you’re a better shot than me.”
“I think I’m better than you at a lot of things.” Her voice betrayed nothing, though her eyes remained vulnerable and she knew it. She didn’t know what this guy would do next. “Still, I could use you.”
He gave her a smirk. “Guess you know all about me, don’t you, little lady?”
“Mutation Matthias, but your real name’s Matthias Strafen. You’ve earned a reputation for killing Mutations--”
“--only killed three so far--”
“--and you’re on the hunt for more. How am I doing so far?”
“Make no mistake, little lady, I don’t got a problem with ‘em so far as most people do. No ma’am, I just like me some good old bloodshed now an’ again. Trouble is, most folks don’t take kindly to murder ‘less there’s a good reason to it. ‘Cause o’ that, well, I go after the freaks.”
“You’re pinche crazy,” she told him, baring her teeth with disgust.
Matthias offered her that winning smile again. “Fine by me. So you want me to go with you, huh?”
“There’s a lot of Mutations out there. Lot of work for one lady to do by herself.”
His smirk spread into a goofy grin. “Long as you let me have my fun, I’m all yours.”
Some people might have argued that the man they had killed that day was not a Mutation. Conchi didn’t suffer fools like that gladly. She didn’t have time for debate, and anyone who got in her way was a waste of time. Other than that, she had little reason to take on a lunatic like Matthias. She sighed with apprehension and held out her hand to him. It was time to locate more targets and more allies.