Saturday, January 16, 2016

KendallJaye Collard Week 183: Kid Harper - San Bartolomé

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KendallJaye Collard’s Picture Choice: Both

Title: Kid Harper - San Bartolomé

I knew this was the place. The sign by the door made me laugh. Hilarious since I knew the kind of clientele “Sister” Maria Corona Cavazos serviced. Stuccoed and decorated with painted ceramic tile, I could only imagine how old the structure was. The rural church in its day must have been beautiful. Of course, all things are beautiful when they’re new. Clean. Shiny. Unspoiled.

Now, the Iglesia de las Flores de luna served as little more than an overpriced whorehouse. The only spiritual healing done here was between sheets. Of course, the discretion that Sister Maria exercised was impeccable. High end visitors paying top dollar for beautiful people to use. Or be used. Whichever their flavor was. This is why I was dubious when word came down that my latest bounty was spending the week here. News like that just didn’t come for free.

Sister Maria met me at the beautifully carved hardwood doors. She immediately began to yammer in Spanish until I pushed the brim of my hat high enough for her to meet my eyes.

“Kid Harper,” she said in a rush of breath.

I was used to the reaction.

“The señora is here.” She grabbed my hand seductively and lowered her voice. “Perez said you would bring coin for this information. This is true?”

Perez. That lying sack of crap.

I grumbled as I jammed my fist into satchel and produced a handful of pesos for her. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”

Sister Maria smiled, blew me a kiss, and extended a graceful arm inviting me into her church of ill-repute. Truth was I hated these places. They always smelled of incense, or sweat, or opium, or whatever else people used to dull their senses. I liked to be sharp.

I followed Sister Maria to a closed door down a crooked hallway. She lowered her eyes and nodded. I used the knuckle of my first finger to tap the brim of my hat. With barely a whisper of breeze, the Headmistress disappeared down the hallway.

The door was unlocked, so I barged in.

There she was. Ginger-haired and lilly-assed. Surrounded by a harem of dark-skinned, black-eyed beauties.

“Effie Wallner. Your husband very much wants you to come home. Now, we can do this the hard way or the easy way.” I took my hat off and tossed it on the side table by the door. “I suggest you clean yourself up and we be on our way.”

Fifteen minutes later, we were on my mare headed back to New Mexico.


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KendallJaye Collard gets her kicks above the waistline, Sunshine. Wine drinker, Cancer Survivor, and protected by rocksalt. Spread the love with her at @KJCollard.


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