The Third Western Megapack. Johnston McCulley

      And when she comes back I’m gonna be here waiting, Caleb thought to himself.

      * * * *

      The next three days in Caleb Crosby’s life was filled with images of the beautiful desert Venus. Every day he walked down to Madame Eleanor’s bordello and sat at the end of the bar, sipping whisky and listening to the piano and waiting for her to walk through the door. On the evening of day two one of the fallen angels caught his eye. She was a cute little thing named Miss Dixie, with bright blue eyes that sparkled and a line of freckles that marched across her turned up nose like fire ants. But it wasn’t her sweet good looks that had attracted him. It was the soft southern accent that reminded him of home, evoking memories of the genteel world he’d left behind.

      He’d watched her backside wiggle to and fro as he followed Miss Dixie up the stairs and into her room. She undressed, exposing a pert little bosom with nipples as pink as a newborn babies lips. She was delightful and charming and tight as a virgin, but the whole time he was rutting her he was haunted by the face of the beautiful half breed.

      He didn’t bother taking another girl upstairs after that.

      By day three everyone greeted him when he came through the door, just like he was an old friend. He was liking Tucson and found it downright friendly. He took his place at the end of the bar and the barman set down a bottle of his favorite whiskey. By early evening the sin palace was alive with laughter. It was in full swing as patrons crowded in and music played and the poker tables filled to capacity.

      And then she walked in, holding her head high and proud. She stretched her arms outward as she walked across the carpeted floor to where Madame sat on a velvet couch. Sitting next to her she immediately leaned into the older woman’s shoulder and began to cry. Caleb wanted to run to her, hold her in his arms and comfort her. But he also didn’t want to end up with a bullet for his trouble. To feast on her beauty would have to be enough. Then Venus turned and looked directly at him, her dark eyes burning, and he knew nothing would ever be enough.

      He held his breath as Venus Wembly rose and walked in his direction. And he saw the dark blue bruises along her cheek and the swelling around her eyes. She slowed her gait as she neared him, and as she passed him she whispered softly.

      “The alley out back. Ten minutes.”

      And she was out the door.

      * * * *

      The stars shone like a million fireflies above the two figures who stood in the shadows. The full moon’s filtered glow softly touched her face as Mrs. Wembly looked up at the handsome stranger who stood before her.

      “I saw a kindness in your face,” she said. “And I haven’t seen gentleness in a very long time.” She leaned in close, letting her shoulder brush against him. Sympathy and lust fought a battle within Caleb as he looked into her beautiful, bruised face and the tears that welled in her eyes. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to ravage her. He didn’t know what to say.

      “Perhaps sir, we could go somewhere and talk?” she said.

      She kept looking nervously over her shoulder as they walked through the darkened alleys to his hotel and entered through the back door. They tiptoed up the stairs to his room. He touched her cheek as they sat beside each other on the edge of his bed.

      “Pray tell Mrs. Wembly, what happened?” he asked.

      “Mr. Wembly finds pleasure in my pain,” she said. “He beats me. He does other, more beastly things, that I am forced to endure as well. Shameful things.”

      “Why don’t you leave him?” he asked. “It seems a simple solution.”

      “He would hunt me down and kill me.”

      “It would appear that he’s killing you now. Only more slowly.”

      “He’s a powerful man who gets what he wants.” Hesitantly, she confided in him. There were few choices for a woman. Especially a woman like her. She could have stayed at the reservation and lived a life of poverty. Or become a servant in a white man’s house. Or sell herself and maintain some modicum of control over her life. But she had found that life degrading and unbearable. Then Mr. Wembly had rescued her from her life of sin at Madame Eleanor’s and married her. He had given her social prestige and beautiful clothes. And broken bones and bruises.

      Caleb didn’t judge her. He understood. Sometimes life deals a bad hand and we have to play it as best we can. He held her close. Before long they lay side by side naked and as he ran his hands along her flesh he saw the bruises and scars that marred her beautiful body. His heart went out to her. They made love with an urgency and fire he’d never known before. Her passion for him was as intense as his for her. They met clandestinely night after night, disappearing in each others embrace. He wanted this woman more than anything else in life.

      “It was fate that brought me here, I know that now,” he said. “We were destined to be together.”

      “I love you Caleb.”

      “Let’s run away. We could go to Yuma or maybe out to San Francisco where he’d never find us.”

      “Or you could kill him,” she whispered as she touched her lips to his.

      * * * *

      The next day Caleb was troubled by what Venus had suggested the night before. He stayed in his hotel room. He’d vowed that all the killing was behind him. That he’d never again pull the trigger. Could he do it for the woman he loved? For the woman who loved him? Surely her husband was a monster and was deserving of his wrath, but was that the only solution? This was a decision he didn’t want to make. He’d have to convince Venus Wembly that they could run off and be safe. Surely it would be safer than the possibility of facing the hangman.

      That night, after they’d made love, they talked. And she agreed to his plan. She’d go home and pack and sneak out later. And they’d meet up to start a new life in a new place. Caleb walked her down the stairs and into the darkness.

      A short, stout man stepped out of the shadows and walked toward them. “You whore. You harlot!” he said as he walked toward them. It was Roscoe Wembly and his face was distorted in rage. Venus took two steps backward as her furious husband raised his pistol and aimed it at her.

      Before he had a chance to think, Caleb unholstered his Remington and pumped two bullets into him. They hit their mark and Roscoe Wembly fell to the ground. Dead. Caleb turned as the tall deputy that he had seen escort Venus from Miss Eleanor’s appeared from nowhere, his gun aimed straight at Caleb.

      “Wait,” he said to the deputy. “He was aiming to kill Mrs. Wembly and I was defending her!”

      The deputy smiled calmly as he pulled the trigger and shot Caleb just below the heart. Slowly he folded to the ground, his fingers slipping from Venus’s warm hand as he fell. He looked up as she walked over to the deputy, laughing as she tore her dress.

      “I told Roscoe where to find you and he flew here faster than lightning, just like you said he would,” said the deputy.

      “Perfect,” she said to him. “See, I told you Caleb was a sucker. I knew it the first time I laid eyes on him.” She sidled up to the deputy and kissed his cheek. “We’ve got it all now,” she said. “We’ve got Wembly’s fortune and we’ve got each other.”

      A crowd began to gather and as Caleb lay dying he heard the deputy address them.

      “The son of a bitch shot Mr. Wembly,” he said. “Damn good thing I showed up when I did.”

      Venus was sobbing as she held her torn dress against her bosom. “I was walking with my husband and he came from nowhere and just shot him. Then he,” she wailed, “he attacked me!”

      The crowd gasped in shock as Caleb Crosby breathed his last breath.

      BAD BLOOD AT DRY ROCK, by Arlette Lees

      Deep in Vulture Canyon, an old prospector found my husband’s remains beside his