Caleb. But, unfortunately, not everything in this world is made up according to our desires and intentions. Some events take place without your participation, after which they simply put you before a fact. You can resent, spit and hysteria, but change, as a rule, can not do anything. With whatever moral intent you kill Mr. Gill, you just took his place, whether you like it or not. Do I see stubbornness on your face? Good. I think there is one way to make a difference, and I will no longer be a draw. Interested in?

- Of course! Anything! - inspired Caleb.

Beatrice smiled crookedly. Apparently, she expected such an answer. Then suddenly she pulled her Colt out of her purse. She was convinced that he was charged, put it into the hand of tensed Caleb, and put a muzzle against her forehead.

- Like this. Now the thumb on the trigger. Weigh. Pointing right here, on the trigger. And we press it ...

- Sick, or what? - cried Caleb and quickly took his hand away, while still the brains of his beloved woman were there, where they should be. - This crap after all could shoot!

- First, I will ask you not to call this a work of weaponry “crap”. And secondly, this is the only way ... to "free" me. But, as I see, he does not suit you either. It's nothing you can do. Get over your role, poor fellow. - And she "sympathetically" patted him on the shoulder.

“She is not joking. It's all serious. Much more serious than I thought. The devil, she was ready to kill herself! It seems that I really have no way out. We'll have to play along to her. "Boss" ... What a nasty word. " Well, after all, nothing prevented him from simply treating her as before. Nothing prevented him - personally him - from considering them just lovers. Let him imagine what he wants. They will wander together, have fun, rob, make love. More and he does not need. And this power, which she is trying to foist, full control over her, the ability to order to fulfill any whim ... He does not need it.

“You can convince,” Caleb grinned and patted his woman's hair, which made her rather close her eyes, like a cat. - Okay. Let's get ready. It is time.

- Now? - surprised Beatrice, looking at the sky. “But it will be dark in a few hours.” Isn't it better to spend the night here and go in the morning?

- Not. I do not want to be in this place a minute longer than necessary.

***

- Beatrice?

- Yes, master?

“Are you teasing me on purpose?” I want to hear my name. So ... I suddenly realized that I still do not know your last name. I want to fill this gap.

- My last name ... I do not use it. I do not like her. Highly. Please don't ask me to call her.

- Come on, come on, come on, but not so much now spank! Uh ... Be ... Beatrice? What are you doing? Hey! Hey Hey hey! Stop doing that! Get dressed back! I was joking. Joked, I say.

- What? Not even a slap once? And you also say that I am a fool of you ... Ah!

The palm of the man left a red imprint on her bare buttock. After a night of coolness, the blow seemed downright burning. Beatrice muted a moan of pleasure, bit her lip. Closing her eyes, she looked forward to the continuation. But there was no continuation. Apparently, this slap was made just for fun. With a disappointed sigh, she pulled on her trousers and straightened her skirts.

- Oh, what u uchudila! I thought that I was using a whip, but it turned out to be a carrot.

- I want you to take me. Rough.

- And I want you to give your last name. How about an equal exchange?

- Duhamel du Monceau.My name is Beatrice Duhamel du Monceau.

“Good girl.”

And he took it. Right in the middle of the desert, on the roof of the stagecoach, where they lay and looked at the night sky dotted with a myriad of stars. Under the light of a full moon, brightly illuminating the wasteland immersed in sleep. His body still ached after bashing, but he took it roughly and harshly, as she herself requested. He took her from behind, for the first time, since he considered this pose to be derogatory, but now she herself wanted to. He held her hands clasped behind her back, and she, having no other support, pressed her cheek into the smooth oak paneling. He frantically lashed her on the buttocks, so much so that the palm was taken away, and she gladly accepted each new blow and only more strongly served him to meet. He passionately loved this woman, and therefore experienced dual feelings, causing her burning pain and seeing her tear-stained but happy face. The farther it went, the more he became convinced that she would endure any torture from him, but he was still afraid of losing control of himself and going too far.

Breathing, flip flops, whimpers, groans and other characteristic sounds made by the pairing pair, were the only ones for miles around, breaking the silence of the night. Damien, who was sitting some ten meters away from them on a rough boulder, was looking at a silver disk hanging in the sky with his dark unblinking eyes and with the greed and ecstasy breathing in the smell of sweet human sin ...

“So, Beatrice Duhamel du Monceau ... I think the time has come to speak frankly,” Caleb broke the blissful silence in which they, satisfied, lay clinging to each other, trying to keep their bodies warm. - No matter how cynically this may sound on my part, I sin to complain about how the whole situation turned out. But you still conceal something from me. Guess what I mean?

Beatrice lifted her head, which had previously rested on the man’s chest, and fixed her gaze on him full of frenetic sparks.

- Oh, you are my "kicks"! Everything you notice, everything you notice! - in her usual mocking manner she started. But somehow she immediately abandoned the clutter: she felt tired. “I suppose you are the reason why I saved you from San Prader.”

- Exactly. Before Marty's story, I thought it was Gill's initiative. But it turned out - your own. With that, we were not even familiar. Not for nothing is all. I will not ask how you know me, because you know, apparently, very much. I'll ask the main thing: why did you need me?

- I could, of course, say that I saw your face on one of the old posters and fell in love at first sight. But you gave me your trust, so I will be frank. Although I am convinced that what you heard is unlikely to please you, ”Beatrice sighed languidly, twisting the man's mustache in a dandy manner.

- I will try not to rage much.

“I needed you as bait.”

- Nicely. Who do we catch?

- Jane McAvoy.

Caleb instantly became serious. From the mock playfulness was not a trace.

“Is it not Jane McAvoy who sleeps and sees me kill?”

- She's the one. Please listen to me and do not interrupt. As I said earlier, Little Janie remembered you all very well after that fateful meeting seven years ago. I will say more: she is obsessed with revenge. There was practically nothing left of your old gang, and each of your former friends fell from her hand. She will not stop until retribution overtakes all of you. And she practically got to you in San Pradera. I barely managed to pull you out. According to my idea, we had to go back to Mr. Gill and the rest, and Little Janey would have found you there sooner or later. And right in my hands. But an unforeseen incident happened to me. I ... I realized that I was madly attracted to you, Caleb. And completely confused, absolutely did not know what to do. Until you ... did what you did. Now everything has become even easier.

- Wait a minute. If you initially needed her, and not me, why did you not find her right away? What is this mnogohodovka?

From the answer Beatrice broke through his cold sweat.

- I fear her.

“And I thought she was not afraid of the Devil or God. And then, hike, something much worse ... ".Caleb pulled the woman closer to him, as if Jane McAvoy could now suddenly jump right out of the stage as a under-bed monster.

“But don't worry,” Beatrice hurried to reassure him. “Little Janie is a wild thing, of course, but she has one major drawback.” When she attacks the track of one of you, she stops noticing everything else. Thirst for revenge veils her eyes. And at such times she is most vulnerable. And you are at the very top of her list. That is why I chose you, not Marty. When she comes for you, she will be in for an unpleasant surprise. Now can I sleep? I'm very tired.

- Last question. What do you give up this McAvoy?

“My dream is this,” she muttered through a yawn. - Get Jane McAvoy. And put it on a chain.