by Emilia Loft
“How long do you think they’ll be gone?” Casper asked and Bobby just shrugged and sighed without looking up.
“Them boys have been after Alastair since…well hell since their daddy was still alive. An’ I’ll tell you Reverend, much as I want them slap that bastard in irons, there ain’t never been anyone that gets me sleepless for those boys more than Alastair fucking Jones.” Bobby wiped the sweat from his brow and met Casper’s gaze with resolute concern. “John used to call the men he went after demons but hell if he didn’t get it on the money with that one.”
“What has he done?” Bobby laughed short and bitter, squinting up at the afternoon sun.
“You got some way a body can sin against God and man, Alistair’s done it in spades. Rumor was he used to be a business man from New York, got into security, guarding shipments with a posse he hand selected for their….talents. Some figure that he realized how much easier it was to just use
his men to rob those same kinds of shipments, moved onto banks, shit at this point most outlaws would be retired in luxury somewhere below the border, but I don’t think Alistair does it for money.”
“Then why does he?”
“He likes it. He likes puttin’ fear into folk, likes tearing ass around the plains and leaving a trail of mutilated dead in his wake.”
“Mutilated?” Casper felt sick.
“Oh yeah, his latest venture has been straight blackmail. He picks a nice little town thriving just a little too far from the nearest state marshal and runs through it like the devil on horseback, gets the local sheriff to ‘protect’ his town by paying a tidy sum to his gang every month to keep them away. He’s left so many lawmen carved up, tied down spread eagle and missing so much skin they barely look human. But my apologies Reverend, this ain’t decent conversation.”
“No, no. I- “ Casper swallows around the lump in his throat. “This is my home now too, it’s only right I know the dangers posed to my flock.”
“Come on Reverend,” Bobby slaps a compassionate hand on his shoulder. “We need a drink.”
For being the center of that morning’s excitement, Ellen’s saloon made off with none too much damage. The glass was cleaned, the tables righted. The only evidence there’d been any problem two thick patches of sawdust covering what Casper guessed must be blood and a pissed off Ellen yelling at her girls to quit gossipin’ and get back to work. Times like these men tended to want to relieve a little tension.
“Bobby, you want somethin’ you get it yerself! Ruby, Mr. Carson’s waitin’ on you, get yer ass upstairs and make sure he pays up front! This ain’t a blasted charity.” Ellen grumbled as she stalked about the room, terrifying everyone back into order. Bobby wasn’t fazed, slipped behind the bar and poured the two of them shots, which they both tossed back immediately. He poured another.
“Now don’t you worry about those boys too much, John never gave Alistair an inch and he taught those boys well. ‘Bout the only thing of value he left them. And they’ve done a fine job of keepin’ that black bastard out of here, those other lawmen was soft folk, fools that thought the badge was enough to protect them from someone like Alistair. Sam ‘an Evan, they’re tough sons of bitches, they know this terrain better’n anyone, if that gang is out there, they’ll find them.”
Casper brooded “But just the two of them? Shouldn’t you be sending other men with them?”
This gets a real laugh from Bobby, “The Parkers? They could send the Calvary out with them and those boys would still leave them in the dust. AlistaParkerhe only one got a reputation ‘round these parts. They’ll be fine.” Casper isn’t convinced. “Know what Reverend, you should come up to the house for supper tonight, I’m sure the Missus would enjoy it.”
It sounded like a welcome distraction.
“Why yes, thank you Bobby that would be lovely. And how is Meg, may I ask?”
“Fine, fine.” Bobby rubs at his neck where it’s coloring and looks down at the bar. “You know, I was mighty skeptical when I seen what Evan brought me but, she’s uhh….she’s alright.”
Casper smiled at Bobby and the men raised their drinks in toast, keeping silent on what each man was drinking to.
* * *
“I’m really glad you came Casper, I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.”
Supper had been pleasant and blessedly casual. Meg was still getting her hand at cooking so each man ignored the toughness of the meat and the burnt bottom of the bread. Afterwards Bobby headed for the barn while Meg and Casper rocked on the porch.
“So tell me Meg, how are you getting on as the new Mrs. Singer?” She smiled at him knowingly.
“You fishing for details about how I’ve been fairing in the marriage bed?” Casper spluttered and blushed and Meg just laughed at him. “I can see it on every face in town, and preacher, it has caused me no end of entertainment.”
“I’m sure they mean well by it, you’re just…not what they were expecting.”
“No, I suppose not.” And they watch the sun set in amiable silence, the creak of the rockers and the cricket song filling the space of their thoughts. “My family never knew what to make of me either. They raised me to be just like my sisters, pretty, stupid women only fit for the arm of some wealthy bastard that would elevate the family name. I was never going to marry for love, and I’m not some sort of fool romantic that even wanted it. Love sounds like a disease. I wanted freedom, purpose, and I would have none of that as Mrs. Reginald Crumbsley.”
“Was that….your betrothed? What a horrible name.” They both laugh a bit too loud and up ahead
Bobby poked his head out of the barn then ducked back in when Meg waves.
“You should have seen him, he was so perfumed and frilly and pompous. He didn’t want a wife, he wanted a pet only just smart enough to keep the staff in line. I think I would have killed myself or him if I’d gone through with the wedding. But here, I’m useful here. Bobby trusts me with things that are important and if I can’t make it work we starve. Is it….is it strange that I enjoy that?”
Casper considers this carefully. “No, I suppose not. The Lord looks favorably on honest hard work.”
“Does he now?” She says with an arched brow and a lopsided smile. “Well I’m glad he approves.”
“And Bobby?” The real question is understood.
“I like Bobby, truly. Parker was right, he’s not much to look at, but he’s honest and he doesn’t treat me like I’m something that mighParkeron’t get me wrong, he’s a grumpy old coot and we bicker something fierce most every day, but I don’t know…I think I’m better suited to vinegar then sugar.” She looks at him knowingly then. “Speaking of Parker. How are you and the sheriff getting on?”
“I…whatever do you mean?” He hopes she doesn’t notice how pale he’Parkerten.
“Mmmm, yes whatever could I mean….Casper, I consider you a friend, and I don’t say that about a
great many people at all. You needn’t pretend with me. We spent endless weeks together in that hateful little coach and Garth may be dumb as a sack of rocks but I’m not.”
Panic bleeds up his body like mercury, but he considers it a moment. Meg enjoyed being wickedly clever but she was always direct, never manipulative. And he does consider her a friend so his first thought isn’t to lie to her, it’s how far he can trust her with the truth. The neat row of things he has to lose are lined up in front of this woman, his reputation, his livelihood, his safety. This, he thinks, must be what finding faith feels like to the unbeliever, it’s funny how he never felt uncertainty in the face of his Holy Father but this tiny woman in a cotton flower dress is shining a light on his cracks. He takes a deep breath and chooses faith.
“I don’t know what we are Meg. I had always been told how complicated matters between two people could get, but I never really understood until now.”
And he’s rewarded and deeply relieved when she doesn’t do anything other than offer him a look of genuine understanding. “Do you lo
ve him?”
“I don’t know if I’m allowed.” He answers honestly. “He’s married, and it’s not the typical arrangement but I still feel conflicted.”
“Oh I know all about Lisa,” She chuckles to herself. “Bobby’s hard as a horseshoe in winter but that man is a clucking mother hen about those boys. Hell I could likely give you their height and hat size if you asked me. I’m probably not the best person to give advice to a preacher. I’m more of a do what you want till the Devil catches you kind of gal.”
Casper looks about at the orderly homestead, the black hair tied in a plain bun and hound dog at her feet looking up at her with loving eyes. She laughs at seeing the train of his thoughts.
“Oh don’t you judge me Reverend Turner, this here is the very pinnacle of scandal for the Masters’ clan! These hands know how to play four instruments and were made to soak in rosewater every night so using them to care for livestock is right now giving my silly mother fits!”
They laugh about it, then let the companionable silence melt over them with the sunset. Casper feels immeasurably better for having someone to confide in.
“You know, you really shouldn’t be so hard on Garth. He’s a good man.”
“I don’t trust anyone who smiles that much, it’s not natural.”
“Come on now Meg, he’s happy in life, we should all wish to find such easy happiness.”
Meg smiled her feline smile, “Now where would be the fun in that?”
* * *
“Sonovabitch!”
Evan kicked the pile of fire blackened logs, now cold, sending a flurry of ash into the air. This had been their last lead on Alistair’s gang, not a one of the people they’d questioned had been brave enough to confirm what they thought might be the man in question camping out on their land. Just pointed in the general direction and wished them God speed.
“They got two days on us at least, Evan. No way we can catch them without help on the other end slowing them up and we aren’t even sure which way they went.”
They were going to ground, he knew it in his bones. Just like he knew Alistair wouldn’t take his son’s shooting lying down. They’d needed to find the man quick, before he had time to collect and plan, but now it was going to be a waiting game and fuck if that didn’t mean eight kinds of trouble when the bastard finally showed his face.
“Fuck! I hate this cocksucker so much. What do you think Sammy, house or hills?”
“Hills, word’s gotta be out pretty far by now, we woulda heard somethin’ if they’d holed up in some town. An there ain’t nothin’ off the map with a roof that could support ‘em all. He’s gone, Evan. Back to wherever the fuck he gets to after a job.”
“Yeah, yer probably right. Shit they live easy like the goddamned Comanche out there, if I didn’t want to rip his heart right out of his chest so bad I might respect the guy.”
The boys gave the abandoned camp one more sweep before mounting up.
“Come on, I want to get back to my bed.”
“Don’t you mean your pretty wife, didn’t you get that poor girl knocked up enough?” Sam made a face.
“Like you’re one to talk, don’t think you have me fooled for a moment that you’re spending tonight under your own roof. Ain’t that so?”
Evan tried to glare his brother down but Sam just smiled right back at him, smug as a fox with a hen.
“Not talkin’ ‘bout it!” The colorful name he called his brother lost to the wind as he tore off ahead of him in the direction of Lawrence.
* * *
If Evan had a bit more pride he might have stayed more than an hour at home checking that Lisa and Ben were well before giving his brother the satisfaction of proving him right. Not that Sam would know immediately, Lisa was an independent sort and it wasn’t in her to mind if her husband as away from home for any length of time. He was there for supper and afterwards pulled Ben up on his lap to tell him just enough of his uncles’ hunt for outlaws as his mother would allow. Then he was set to work on his spelling and Evan kissed Lisa quick on the cheek as he was out the door. She didn’t look up from her sewing when she mumbled goodbye.
He traveled along the outskirts of town to get to Cas, and even this was too long to wait, but his horse had been ridden to the ground for the last few days and now that it saw home it was in no mood to move any faster, no matter how much Evan cursed it.
Casper was out the door and in his arms the moment he pulled up. God it was such a relief, and he almost left his steed to wander unhitched now that his angel was kissing him desperate and pulling him inside. But he suffered through another few minutes of chore putting the beast away with the knowledge that now he could have all night.
They tangled in the doorway, Evan not even making it over the threshold before he was stripping the preacher.
“Evan! Ungh! I haven’t slept I’ve been – get inside!”
“Too far, think I’m gonna take you right here.” Evan had a hand down the front of Casper’s pants and was pulling roughly at his cock. Casper pressed back against the door frame, one leg propping up against the other side to create a better angle. Evan wrapped an arm under his thigh, up behind his hip to hold him in place and jerked him fast. Their mouths slid desperately against each other, starving. Casper’s release came on like lightening, searing through him and bleaching his vision.
As he came back down, panting against Evan’s shoulder, he realized they were moving. He was unsure how his legs knew how to function just then. They were in the parlor, Evan already half naked.
“Take off your clothes.” God he’d never known a voice could do such things to him, Evan sounded pained and commanding. Casper had never followed an order so quickly in his life. Evan had made it as far as his pants before he strode out of the room, and Casper heard the sounds of a man who knew exactly what he was after, stalking back with oil jar in hand. “Turn around.”
Trembling, skin on fire, he did, and Evan wasted no time encircling his hips with an arm and all but lifting him onto the settee, knees rubbing the worn nap of the second hand velvet, hands braced against the curving wood back. A wool clad thigh pushed between Casper’s legs as Evan worked to free his erection while slicking up his fingers. This time he wasn’t gentle, and Casper couldn’t have been more grateful. Hard worn fingers speared into him, spreading him quick and greedy. Casper arched back into them, keening as a wet mouth latched onto his neck to bite and suck. Evan was fumbling around behind him, removing fingers then mouth and Casper would have cried if he had to wait much longer.
“Pleeease Evan you’re –shit!” He was impaled, burning up from the core.
“Fucking Christ darlin’ you’re so tight! Sorry…I’m sorry, I’ll go slower.” Evan kissed little apologies for his impatience around Casper’s ear and jaw.
“Don’t you fucking dare!” And Cas snapped his hips back so hard he nearly bucked Evan backwards off the settee. “I couldn’t –ugnh –feel you anymore. Make me feel you!”
This goddamned country preacher was gonna kill him. Evan set his jaw as he draped himself over Casper’s back. Jerked him back onto his cock with each thrust, pounding into the wailing preacher like he could cleave them together. He slid a hand down to grip the man’s leaking cock, hard again and perfect in his hand. It was barely a dozen strokes before Casper sobbed with his second release, muscles spasming hungry, constricting the cock stuttering inside him, ripping the orgasm Evan’s from his bones.
This time Casper was allowed to walk up the stairs himself, this time when the sun rose there were no intruders to pull Evan away. This time they didn’t bother with clothing for a whole day, barely remembering to eat. And when Evan’s bare foot stepped on a button, the tricky one that had gone missing on Casper the morning after their first time together, Casper called him a hero and sat rather femininely on his haunch across the newly christened settee, for his ass was too sore for any other position. He sewed it back in place with the little skill he had, just as crooked as its brothers and Ev
an teased him and made him try it on and threatened with beautiful dark eyes that he would make sure every one of the preacher’s buttons would find a need to be re-sewn. It would be their secret keepsake, and Casper imagined wearing such a vest on the pulpit on Sunday, begged Evan through his laughter to leave his garments in peace but felt the hot thrill all the same.
And even when they retired that night to separate beds in separate homes, each man spent whole minutes staring at the ceiling, wondering at a happiness they’d long since thought would never be for them.
8
Chapter 8
The weeks into May were a dream, Casper and Evan spent as many nights as they could in each other’s arms, making good use of his lack of neighbors nearby. And when they weren’t twisted up together in the dark, Evan spent every moment he could doing other things with Cas, finally teaching him to fish, teaching him to shoot a pistol with each hand, even shocking the bloomers off the church ladies when he agreed to help them with their charity knitting by winding the yarn with them in front of the general store. Sam had laughed his ass off when he spied him, but Evan considered himself justified when they paid him in pie. Besides, that whole afternoon he got to listen to Cas as he read the women Psalms in his sand and sin voice.
The only good to come out of Alistair Jones skulking about their territory was that it had the damn near impressive effect of keeping all the other lowlifes in line. Nobody was getting away with shit all when every lawman in a hundred miles was suddenly so quick on the draw. And in a town lucky as Lawrence to have men such as the Parkers about, things were downright pastoral. Any other time such as this would’ve seen Evan tearing off in a cloud of Parkernd the nearest bit of trouble to get himself tangled into, but now he had a reason to stay, and to be mighty thankful for the long stretching days with not much to do other than bury himself in Casper.
Casper for his part, had taken to praying with much more regularity than he ever had as a wandering preacher with no other companion other than a silent God. It would trouble him at times, times when Evan wasn’t around to kiss him thoughtless, just how happy, how complete he felt and just how little their relationship bothered him. He had been truthful with Evan that day when he’d told him he’d worked this side of his nature out with God. He had, but he was realizing that those beliefs had come to him in times of solitude, hand in hand with the conviction that he was never going to have to test them in any practical way. What did it say about him that he stood before his congregation every week and told them to be good and honest people while at the same time catching the eye of a man he would that same night fall into bed with?