Cheyenne Caress

by Georgina Gentry

  “He trusts you, Billy.” She kissed his cheek again. “Just think, if you hadn’t trailed me here from New Orleans, he wouldn’t have met you on the street and hired you.”

  “Yeah, he trusts me.” Billy grinned. “He says I’m just like him, the son he never had.”

  “I think the randy old goat’s left a trail of bastards behind him.”

  He hugged her. She winced in pain as he squeezed her. “That bastard!” Billy said. “Was it the whip this time, or–”

  “Don’t ask, Billy. It doesn’t matter. I consider it an investment . . . for us.”

  He held her very close and kissed her lingeringly.

  “Billy, if you–if you have to marry his daughter, will you still love me?”

  He patted her absently. “Suppose she isn’t ugly? Her old man must have been good-looking in his day. before he got sick. I didn’t know arthritis could make a man that sick.”

  Lily shrugged. “How would I know?”

  Did Billy suspect anything? She was cured, she couldn’t give it to her lover, and she didn’t care about Manning. The rich bastard deserved to die a slow and horrible death. “I wish we could be together all the time, Billy, and not have to sneak around.”

  “Me, too, baby.” He raised up on his elbow and looked down into her eyes. She was a lot older than he was, but that didn’t matter to him. It tore him apart that Manning used her with no more thought than he’d use any of his other possessions. Manning liked his women dark and sultry. If Billy could find his boss another woman with the same qualities, would Manning leave Lily alone? It was worth some thought.

  He lay back with a sigh, wondering if there was any chance that he had given her the pox . . . or had she given it to him? If so, where had she picked it up? It wasn’t something a man would discuss with a woman.

  Then he dismissed that idea. Lily looked perfectly healthy, but Billy himself hadn’t been too careful about some of the women he had bedded–and there had been many to succumb to his easy banter and boyish charm.

  Last time Manning had sent him back East on business, he’d seen a doctor, who had listened to him describe his symptoms: a sore on his genitals, then a rash. The doctor had given Billy an expensive medication of herbs mixed with mercury and pronounced him cured. Well, he must be. Certainly the symptoms had gone away, and he didn’t want to borrow trouble by worrying about it.

  On the other hand, he’d heard that sometime the symptoms disappeared for years and then reappeared, leading finally to death, blindness, or even madness.

  He wouldn’t borrow trouble or scare Lily by bringing it up. He kissed her full breasts. “You’re beautiful, baby. I’m sure Manning’s daughter can’t hold a candle to you.”

  Lily put her arms around his neck. “I love you.”

  He put his face against her breasts, enjoying her Louisiana Cajun accent like purring velvet. “It tears me up, thinkin’ about him pawin’ you all the time. I’m gonna look around, see if I can find a girl he’ll like better.”

  “I’d be much obliged for that,” Lily sighed with relief. She laid her hand lightly between his thighs and he felt his body react immediately. “Billy, make love to me.”

  He kissed her, running his hand down her body, feeling her wince at his touch when he brushed against a fresh bruise. “That old bastard! Someday, baby, someday . . .”

  “Let’s not think about a future that maybe will never happen,” she whispered. “Let’s just think about tonight.” She opened the scarlet negligee.

  He cupped one creamy mound while she unbuttoned his shirt. Her breath and tongue were hot and wet on his nipple.

  He must be gentle with her after what Manning , had done. Billy closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at the purple and green bruises under the scarlet dressing gown. He spread her thighs, then took her gently while she wrapped her long, dark legs around his waist.

  Afterward, she wept in his arms and he held her and kissed her hair. “Someday, baby, someday . . .”

  The next day, Billy still had fond thoughts of Lily as he drove the wagon load of supplies out to meet the Pawnees.

  Absently, he ran his tongue through the gap where his teeth were gone and laughed. Even Lily thought they’d been knocked out in one of many fist fights. What no one knew was that Billy was a coward, afraid of the sight of blood, especially his own.

  When the war had begun, they tried to draft the husky Ohio farm boy. He was working like a slave himself on his stepfather’s farm, and didn’t feel any obligation to go die to free black people.

  The draft was so unpopular, there were riots over it, buildings burned, and people killed. A lot of poor immigrants didn’t want to fight and die to free blacks from slavery. Especially when rich men were allowed to pay a substitute to go in their places.

  The boy decided sacrificing his front bottom teeth was better than catching a mini ball in the belly or amputation in a bloody field hospital with nothing but a little chloroform and sometimes not even that. No, he didn’t regret the small sacrifice of his teeth. Better a live hound than a dead lion.

  Yep, he was a coward, all. right, he thought sheepishly now, remembering. The morning he was supposed to go into the army, he got very drunk. Then he took a rock and knocked out his two lower front teeth.

  The army’s old Enfield rifles used cartridges with paper tabs that had to be bitten off before the bullet could be fired. The army didn’t accept any man who didn’t have at least one bottom and upper front tooth that met so he could bite those tabs off. Bill had literally knocked himself out of combat.

  Finally, he had drifted down to New Orleans and met Lily. But he didn’t have the money to take her out of that bordello. Then he heard that some rich Denver businessman, Manning Starrett, had fallen for Lily and was taking her back to the Colorado Territory with him. Billy had trailed her to Denver. There he worked in the mines or anything else he could do to stay close to her. He used to watch her pass in Starrett’s elegant carriage.

  Finally he and Lily had arranged a chance meeting with the rich man, and Billy’s charm ingratiated him with Manning.

  It broke his heart now that she still slept with Manning occasionally when the old goat was up to it. But there was nothing Billy could do until he got more money except bide his time. Again the idea crossed his mind that if only Billy could find a similar girl to take Lily’s place, maybe Manning would keep his hands off Lily.

  He saw the Pawnees camped up ahead, drove the wagon in, and reined to a halt. “Hello, Crow Feather! I’m here with your allotment of sugar and coffee and guns.”

  The Pawnee leader and some of his braves came over, frowning as they peered at the small load stacked under a tarp in the back of the wagon. “Why does the Great White Father in Washington send us less and less each time? How can we feed our people with so little?”

  Billy shrugged as he jumped down from the wagon seat. “Times are hard because of the big war several years ago. The Congress has even cut back on supplies and weapons for our own bluecoats. I’m not responsible for the fact that my red brothers get less and less each year.”

  In truth, Billy wasn’t. It was Manning Starrett, whose greed couldn’t resist cutting the supplies back each time. It worried Billy. He had a tiny bit of conscience left about such things, but more than that, he was afraid that sooner or later, Starrett Freight and Shipping Company might be in trouble if the army ever investigated its tie with that crooked Indian agent.

  If only the Pawnee knew their legal guns and supplies were being diverted to their old enemies, the Cheyenne. Billy got out some cigars and passed them around with a flourish. There was no reason to think these peaceful tribes would ever know, and even if they did, they would be almost powerless to stop it. Who in Washington would listen to an Indian?

  The Pawnee gathered around and he supervised the unloading of the supplies, tossing the tarp carelessly back into the wagon bed.

  Crow Feather was in a better mood as he hefted a new rifle in his hands. “W
e talk, eat and drink some, Reno.”

  Billy nodded. “You bet.” It was dusk and the warriors were roasting meat on a big bonfire and drinking whiskey. Bill had conveniently brought many bottles to pass around.

  For the first time, he noticed the pretty Pawnee girl looking him over from behind a tree.

  Crow Feather’s gaze followed his. “My daughter, Deer.”

  “Very pretty.” Billy looked away quickly. He didn’t want to risk the warrior’s wrath by looking at the girl too long, but he was struck by her beauty. He thought immediately of Manning Starrett, who liked his women dark and sultry. If he could hand this one over to the randy old goat, maybe it would divert his attention from Lily.

  Crow said, “Someday Deer will wed a Pawnee brave. She wanted one that I didn’t approve of, but all that has changed now.”

  The talk bored Billy. “Let us sit together by the fire, Grow.” He gestured toward the center of the circle. “We will drink whiskey and eat, tell tales, and smoke cigars.”

  The brave smiled and nodded. “That is good, Reno. Yes, the warriors will do this thing.”

  They sat down cross-legged by the fire with the others. The drums began a steady rhythm. Women served roasted meat and big hunks of bread and beans while the whiskey made its way around the circle. Later the dancing began.

  Billy watched them, feeling no pain as he sipped yet another glass of whiskey. Crow had joined the dancing. Deer slipped through the shadows and squatted next to Billy by the fire, taking the glass from his hand and draining it. “Once I wanted to cling to tradition, to fight change. But I know now that it is foolish. Besides, having tasted the whiteman’s firewater, I can see why they like it so much!”

  Without a word, Billy reached for a fresh bottle and handed it to her. She was attractive and very young.

  “Be careful,” he cautioned the girl, “the bottle contains powerful magic that does strange and wonderful things.”

  “I’ve found that out for myself,” she said, and laughed, obviously flirting with him.

  She was very pretty and had a good body. Bill looked her over critically. No, he shook his head. He might as well forget it. There was no way to take her back to Manning as a gift or as a new whore to work in the Gilded Lily. It wasn’t worth infuriating Crow Feather over.

  Bill watched her as she turned the bottle up again. He could see the nubs of her nipples under the leather dress she wore. She was dark and probably not more than nineteen or twenty years old. Yes, Manning would like her. “If you ever come to Denver,” he said softly, “I know a rich man with horses and much whiskey who would like to meet you.”

  The last seemed to interest her. “Plenty of whiskey?”

  “Barrels of it!”

  She studied him, wiping her mouth. “If I ever get to Denver, I’ll remember that.”

  She got up and walked away, a little wobbly on her feet. Bill laughed under his breath. Injuns and firewater. The two didn’t mix. He reached for another piece of meat and another drink.

  The Pawnees had the boxes of rifles open now, and were passing them out. As they danced, the braves waved the rifles, shouting in defiance as the firelight flickered off the brass breeches.

  It was sometime in the middle of the night before Billy finally left the Indians dancing and drinking and went over to crawl under the wagon and get himself some sleep.

  At dawn, he had a splitting headache when he was awakened by confusion. “What the hell’s happened?”

  Crow’s face was lined with worry. “Deer is gone. She disappeared during the night.”

  Billy sat up, groaned aloud and put his head in his hands. “Have the women make some strong coffee. I feel bad myself, but I’ll help you look.”

  When it got right down to it, all the clues they had were that she was missing and so was a horse. Billy sipped a tin cup of strong coffee. “Where would she have gone?”

  The Pawnee shook his head. “I don’t know. She has been unhappy since the man she wanted declined to marry her, and the man I chose was killed. I never understood it all.”

  “Simple,” Billy said. “She’s gone looking for the man.”

  “But why now?”

  “Does any man understand women?” Bill said, lighting a cigar.

  “I will send a message to the fort, asking if that scout has seen her or if she went back to our village. What I fear is that she might run across a Cheyenne war party while riding alone. In that case, she might disappear without a trace.”

  All Billy could think of was the waste of her beauty. Manning might have liked her, and at least she would have brought a lot of miners and soldiers into the Gilded Lily. “I’m sorry about all this, Crow Feather, but I must be getting back.”

  The father looked at him anxiously. “She has no reason to ride that direction, but if you should see or hear anything of her, will you send word?”

  “Sure, sure,” Billy said. He hadn’t any interest in what happened to the little tart. If she ended up serving the lust of a Cheyenne war party, she deserved it.

  Crow Feather said, “I don’t think we will leave the area just yet-in case she tries to come back or if anyone should hear something. We will camp in the area of the Great Balanced Rock for the cycle of a moon. We can hunt and camp there. Do you know the place?”

  “Castle Rock? Sure.” Billy nodded. “Everyone does.” It was a landmark south of Denver, a landmark even whites held in awe because it seemed to draw lightning and thunder out of the front range of the Rockies.

  He got some meat and more coffee, then climbed up on the wagon seat as the sun beat down on his throbbing head. “I’m sorry about your daughter, Crow Feather. I’ll be on the watch, and if I hear or see anything, I’ll send word to your camp grounds.”

  The Pawnee nodded, his shoulders slumped with worry. His expression said he didn’t believe he would see her again, not if she had crossed the trail of a Cheyenne war party.

  Too bad, Bill thought with disgust, too bad to waste that lovely, hot little bitch on a bunch of savages when Billy could have given her as a gift to Manning.

  He watched warriors riding out again to search. One group headed back along the trail to their village and another rode along the creek. Stupid girl! Billy thought in disgust, fingering his diamond stickpin. She hadn’t a chance out there on that desolate prairie alone. Probably she had been drunk when she rode out and hadn’t been thinking straight.

  He nodded good-bye to Crow Feather, clucked to the mule and started back over the trail to Denver.

  An hour passed and he began to feel a little better. At least this part of it was done. Soon he’d have to deliver the other guns to the Cheyenne Dog Soldiers. When he made that delivery, he’d take some of the other boys along with him. The Dog Soldiers were a mean bunch and Billy had always been afraid of them. Delivering guns to renegade savages was no job for a coward, and yet it had become his job.

  He heard a noise in the back of the wagon and turned in the seat.

  Deer popped up from under the tarp. “Are we to Denver yet?”

  He reined in, his mouth falling open. “What the hell are you doing here? Your father’s riding over half of Colorado Territory, searching for you.”

  She smiled and scampered up to sit next to him on the seat. “I didn’t think anyone would remember to look in the wagon, not when I took my horse out on the prairie and turned it loose.”

  “Well I’ll be damned!” He was speechless. “You decided to take me up on my offer?”

  She nodded. “First I want some whiskey. Then I want you to take me to this place called Denver. I can’t have the man I want, so I don’t want a traditional life either.”

  Billy reached under the seat and handed her a bottle. “There’s plenty more where that came from. You aren’t worried about your father?”

  She shook her head and took a big swig. “He’d just make me go back to our village. I’d rather go with you, as long as you buy me pretty things and give me all the whiskey I want.”

&
nbsp; “Baby,” he replied, and grinned, clucking to the mule and making it trot, “I promise you are going to get all the whiskey you can drink. All you got to do is make men happy, and I’ll bet you already know how to do that!”

  She was already a little drunk. “As long as I don’t have to work hard. I’m tired of planting squash and harvesting corn.”

  Billy clucked to the mule, hurrying it a little. Yep, Manning would be willing to teach her. With Deer’s looks, she could be a real drawing card at the parlor house.

  He presented her to Manning that night in a private room at the Lily. The older man’s eyes shone. “Billy, you’ve done good-real good. I won’t forget you for this.”

  Lily had seen to it that Deer had been cleaned up and dressed in gaudy yellow satin that set off her dark skin.

  Billy handed her a drink. “Deer, this is the rich white man who will give you pretty things, and all the whiskey you want. All you have to do is be nice to him.”

  She came over, sat down on the sofa next to him, and put her hand on his thigh. “I can be very nice.”

  He heard Manning’s sudden intake of breath. “She’s younger than Lily. I wonder if she’s as talented.”

  Billy winced. But he only shrugged. “Obviously I wouldn’t know about that.”

  Starrett laughed. “God damn it to hell, Billy! I keep forgettin’ how much you two dislike each other.”

  He kept his face immobile. “Will your French slut care if you take up with this Injun gal?”

  Manning leaned on his cane, admiring Deer. “What if she does? I’ll get back to her eventually when I’ve had my fill of this sweet little bitch. And then maybe you can think of some way to make her a real drawing card for the establishment.”

  Billy frowned. “That’s Lily’s department. Remember I just look after the books and the business angles.”

  Manning leaned over, put his hand on Deer’s thigh, and stroked the yellow satin. “Yes, she’s one sweet little brown bitch.”