Savage

by Richard Laymon

  She opened her mouth, but didn’t say anything. She just gazed up at me, her eyes shiny with firelight.

  “What?” I asked, a bit slow at seeing my mistake.

  She shook her head, then got to her feet and stomped off toward the creek.

  I went in the other direction and relieved myself, wondering what had put the burr under Jesse’s saddle. She’d turned as chilly as the night air, and it didn’t make a lick of sense.

  Back at the fire, I looked around and spotted General. I recalled how I’d nearly lost him and Jesse both in the flood on account of hobbling him, so it seemed best to leave him free. He wasn’t likely to wander far.

  By and by, Jesse came along.

  “We oughta break up some more wood and keep our meat smoking,” she said. “‘Sides, gonna be a cold night less we keep the fire up.”

  So we commenced to rip some more planks off the buckboard and hack them to pieces with our knives.

  “It’s a shame we lost our blankets,” I said.

  “Well, you only lost the dang things cause you was fool enough to leave home. Should’ve stayed there with your ma.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yep. You would’ve gone and missed out on every last one of the nasty mean things that’s come your way.”

  “Oh,” I said. Now, I was commencing to catch on to the nature of the problem.

  “Yep.”

  We carried our loads of wood over to the fire and dropped them into a heap.

  Jesse wiped her hands on the front of her shirt.

  “I don’t regret everything,” I said. “I’m quite glad that I met you.”

  “That so? Well, you oughta just keep it in mind when you go to wishing you’d stayed home. How do you reckon I feel, you say such things? And after I gone and kissed you, too.”

  When she said that, I stepped right up to her and put my arms around her and pulled her close against me and kissed her on the mouth. I rather expected her to shove me away. She didn’t do it, though. Instead, she moaned and squeezed me tight. I couldn’t rightly believe my luck. I was actually holding Jesse in my arms, kissing her mouth, and she wasn’t fighting me off. It was bully.

  But then Sarah came into my head. I took to feeling guilty. She’d given herself to me, heart and body. And here I was, taking up with the first pretty gal who’d come my way.

  She’s more than just a pretty gal, I told myself. She’s Jesse Sue Longley.

  I might never see Sarah again, anyhow.

  Besides, she seemed like part of my past, part of the life I’d left behind when I took up with the outlaws. She’d never met the train robber, the horse thief, the murderer. The boy she’d known was dead and gone. She’d likely have no use for me.

  With Jesse in my arms, I had no more use for Sarah, either.

  Best to forget about her.

  Jesse pulled back and looked me in the eyes. “What’s troubling you?” she asked.

  “Nothing at all.”

  “Don’t you fib to me. What is it?”

  I just shook my head. I tried to hug her again, but she held me off.

  “Time we got us some sleep,” she said.

  “But Jesse…”

  She didn’t say anything, but pulled the German’s pistol out of her belt. Stepping past me, she fetched the folded trouser leg from inside my hat.

  “I don’t kiss liars,” she said, and lowered herself to the ground by the fire. She set the Colt nearby, then eased herself down on her side and tucked the cloth mat under her head to use as a pillow.

  Well, I was feeling too riled to sleep. I sat across the fire from Jesse and stared at her.

  “I’ll keep watch,” I said.

  “You don’t need to watch me.”

  “I’m no liar, Jesse.”

  “That so.”

  “If you must know, I had to do some thinking about Sarah Forrest.”

  “Stead of me.”

  “Because of you. I needed to set matters right in my mind. You see…we were somewhat more than friends. I lived with Sarah for several months, and after the General and Mable were gone, we…we rather took up with each other. That’s all.”

  “That’s all, huh?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Betcha wasn’t sorry when you was bedding her.”

  “I’m sorry now.”

  After a while, Jesse said, “Where you reckon she’s at?”

  “She might be anywhere. Maybe she returned to her home in New York.”

  “Maybe she’s waiting for you at Tombstone.”

  “It doesn’t matter, actually. I don’t want to see her again.”

  Jesse was silent for a spell after that. She lay motionless, curled on her side, an arm tucked under the pad beneath her head, her eyes open and staring at me from the other side of the fire.

  Finally, she said, “Don’t go and throw her over on account of me.”

  “You’re not the reason. I made my decision before you ever came along.”

  “That so.” She said it calm and snide.

  “Bloody hell!”

  “No call to curse.”

  “You’re enough to drive a person daft!”

  “It ain’t me that had my way with Sarah.”

  “And I suppose you’re just as innocent as the day you were born? You told me yourself about all the blokes who’ve had at you.”

  “Didn’t a one of them get me.”

  “That so,” I tossed back at her.

  “Yep. And I aim to keep it that way.”

  With that, she shut her eyes. It was just as good as if she’d walked away.

  I had half a mind to throw a stick at her. The other half wished I was hugging her. She was just the most infuriating woman that ever crossed my path.

  My plan, from the start, had been to get shut of her at the first opportunity.

  The sooner the better, I thought. All she does is make me crazy.

  But the notion of parting with her made me feel cold and empty inside. I recalled how miserable I’d been after the flood, thinking her dead, and my joy when I found her.

  Found her hogtied by the German.

  Hadn’t been for me, he would’ve had his way with Jesse for sure. She wouldn’t be so high and mighty after that, and hold it against me about Sarah. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to rescue her.

  Well, thinking such a thing made me feel awful lowdown, so I took it back and judged I was glad I’d saved her in time.

  I wanted to stop thinking about her altogether. Sleep ought to do that. So I added more wood to the fire, then unstrapped my gunbelt and stretched out. The ground felt mighty hard. The fire kept the cold off my front, mostly, but it was no use at all for warming my backside.

  Maybe we should’ve skinned that mule and made us a blanket from its hide.

  The mule was long gone, though. No advantage to bothering your head about what you might’ve done different.

  I lay on my side, curled close to the flames, and commenced to ponder all the things I might’ve done different if only I’d known what was to come.

  It all ended up with this—from the time I’d set out for Whitechapel on that night so long ago, any different sort of move that might’ve saved me or the others from grief would’ve likely changed the direction of my life so that I never would’ve turned up where I was when Jesse bounced the rock off my head.

  Maybe that would’ve been for the best, I told myself.

  Didn’t believe it, though. I judged I’d go through it all again for the chance to join up with Jesse.

  I must’ve fallen asleep, for I woke up. It was still night. Colder than before. So cold I was shivering. What must’ve stirred me awake was Jesse adding wood to the fire. She was crouched at the other side of it, taking sticks from the pile and feeding them to the flames. She wasn’t looking at me. I kept mum and shut my eyes. And pretended to be asleep even when she lay down behind me and snuggled in close and wrapped an arm across my chest.

  I was purely astonished by h
er behavior.

  It came into my head that this might not be happening at all. Maybe I was having myself another fantasy, like those last night. Or maybe it was a dream.

  Jesse sure felt real, though.

  Her warmth seeped through my clothes. Her breasts pushed against my back. I could feel her heartbeat and every breath she took.

  By and by, she kissed the nape of my neck.

  “Possum,” she whispered.

  Rolling over, I hugged her and kissed her mouth.

  She didn’t let me kiss her much, though. She said, “Don’t get no funny ideas, Trevor. It’s just too dang cold over there by my lonesome.”

  “I see,” I whispered.

  “Don’t make me use my Bowie knife.” The warning was no sooner out than her lips covered mine.

  She was likely joshing about the knife.

  I didn’t want to risk riling her, though. We kissed and squirmed some, but I took care to keep my hands from straying anyplace that might offend her.

  Later on, she lay still with her face buried against the side of my neck.

  She seemed to be asleep.

  But then she murmured, “This ain’t working out.”

  “What have I done?”

  “It ain’t you, this time. It’s the ground. I just can’t find me a way to…”

  “Here, then.” Holding Jesse against me, I rolled onto my back. “How’s this?”

  She didn’t answer at first. She lay still, then shifted about some. She gently pushed my knees apart and eased her legs down between mine. Her hands curled over my shoulders. She lowered her face against my cheek.

  “Am I squishing you?” she asked.

  “Not at all.”

  “This is real nice.”

  It was and it wasn’t. Her hair made my face tickle so I had to scratch now and again. Her chin felt like a rock digging into my collar bone. But those were minor bothers. It was wonderful to feel her stretched out atop me, heavy and warm. A spot too wonderful, actually.

  Before you know it, a certain part of me commenced to push at Jesse.

  It upset me considerable. But Jesse didn’t speak up or slap me, so I judged she must be asleep.

  I quit stroking her back, squeezed my eyes shut, and tried to make my problem go away.

  Jesse moaned a couple of times. She squirmed, which didn’t help at all. By and by, though, she lay still and commenced to snore.

  I went through a mighty rough spell, what with the way she felt on top of me and knowing she was asleep—and all the temptations that ran through my head. But I kept a tight rein on myself. Somewhere along the way, I fell off to sleep.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  We Carry On

  When morning came, I woke to find Jesse sprawled out beside me. She lay on her back, an arm across her eyes to block the sunlight.

  I took a quick look about. The fire had died. The mule meat above it had shrunk considerable and dangled from the rack like several lumpy, leather belts. General was standing motionless, head down, a few yards beyond the rear of the buckboard. No sign of any intruders.

  Satisfied that all was well, I turned toward Jesse again and crossed my legs and studied her.

  She looked peaceful and beautiful, spite of her mouth hanging open.

  A warm breeze made her hair stir ever so slightly. It wasn’t blowing enough to move her shirt. Her shirt had gotten itself twisted around her somehow. It was drawn tight against her chest. With every breath she took, her breasts seemed to strain at the cloth.

  Lower, some of the buttons had come open and her shirt was spread apart, leaving her belly bare all the way down to where her dungarees hung about her hips.

  It made me hurt to see the awful bruise. It had a dark ring in the center from the muzzle of the German’s rifle. Around the ring was a purple smudge. I was glad we’d killed the varmint.

  Below the bruise, Jesse’s skin looked smooth and velvety. It was spread over with a golden fuzz too fine to see at all if you didn’t look close. You didn’t need to look close to see the locks that curled out from under the waist of her dungarees. They gleamed as they swayed in the breeze.

  I had an urge to kiss the wound, to caress her, to run my hand over her silken belly, ever so lightly. I wondered if I should be able to feel the fuzz. I rather ached to touch the curls and slip my fingers through them.

  But caution won out.

  She was bound to pitch a fit if she should wake up to find me pawing her.

  Afraid that temptation might overcome prudence in the long run, I stole to my feet, picked up my gunbelt and hurried on down to the creek. I pulled off my boots and waded in.

  I spent a while swimming and floating, then sat on a rock to let the sun dry me. I felt just bully.

  And better yet when Jesse crept up behind me. Far as I knew, she was still asleep. All of a sudden, she wrapped her arms around me, pressed herself against my back, and kissed my ear.

  “Whoever you are,” I said, “you’d best not let Jesse Sue Longley catch you.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “She’s the jealous sort. And quite the scrapper. If she should find you chewing on my ear, she’d likely bash you senseless.”

  “Chewing, huh?”

  So then she did take to chewing on my ear. It felt mighty strange. I got all goose bumpy, and squirmed until she quit.

  “Ain’t mule,” she said. “But tasty.”

  Holding on to my shoulders, she stood up. “How’s the water?”

  “A trifle chilly. Rather refreshing, though.”

  Jesse stepped around to the front of the rock. She had left her boots behind, the better for sneaking up on me, no doubt.

  “Should I leave?”

  “No call for that,” she said, and jumped into the creek. She waded out till the water was waist deep, then turned and smiled. “It’s right nice,” she said, sinking down. After ducking her head, she cupped some water to her mouth and drank. “Don’t take a notion to come in,” she warned. “Just stay where you are and keep an eye out for strangers.”

  I checked about. Nobody in sight. When I looked again at Jesse, she had her shirt off. She was crouched low so that the water covered her almost to the shoulders. It was fairly clear, though. Below the surface, everything looked shadowed and wavery.

  She mopped herself with the shirt, then draped it over her back and flung the sleeves around her neck so she wouldn’t lose it.

  “Would you like me to hold that for you?” I asked.

  Instead of answering, she sank down, filled her mouth, then came up and squirted at me. The spout fell short. It splashed the rock in front of my crossed legs.

  “I say! Don’t get me wet! I may have to come in and throttle you.”

  “You stay where you are, Trevor Bentley.”

  With that, she took off her dungarees. She held them off to the side. The current lifted them, stretched them out, filled their legs.

  “Don’t lose them, now.”

  “If I lose ‘em, I’ll have to take yours.”

  I laughed. But my laughter rather got caught in my throat as Jesse’s free hand commenced to rub at her body. I thought it might be best to look away. But Jesse knew I was here, knew I was watching, and had glanced down often enough to know what could be seen through the water.

  Obviously, she didn’t object to my watching.

  She watched me watch, her eyes all bright with their mischief.

  A game of sorts. Perhaps a test. Or maybe nothing of the kind. Perhaps she’d simply grown to trust me, to care for me enough that she no longer felt it necessary to bathe in private.

  Below the water, her body was blurred and shimmery. Still, I could see her hand gliding up and down her legs, then delving between them before she went about cleaning behind herself.

  All the while, she watched me.

  When she finished washing, she stayed crouched down, her chin just touching the water. “Am I as pretty as your Sarah?” she asked.

  Right then, I couldn�
�t pull a picture of Sarah into my head. Didn’t need to, though. “Oh, yes, quite. You’re far more beautiful.”

  “Figured,” she said, and nodded.

  “You’re also considerably more conceited.”

  “That so.” A grin came up that near-about split her face. “Too bad. It’s me you’re stuck with, pardner.” Laughing some, she struggled back into her trousers. Once they were fastened, she stood up and waded toward me, her shirt still draping her back, its sleeves around her neck like arms ready to choke her.

  She gleamed in the sunlight. Water dribbled down her skin. Her breasts bounced and shook ever so slightly. They had goose bumps, and the nipples stuck out proud. Drops of water fell off them as she climbed onto the rock in front of me.

  Kneeling there, she smiled with just one side of her mouth. “Watch you don’t wear out your eyes.”

  “What do you expect me to do with them?”

  “It ain’t polite to stare.”

  “And is it polite to parade about…shirtless?”

  “Feels good. If I was a feller, I don’t reckon I’d wear one much at all. It’s all cause of the dang tits.” She scowled down at them. “You’re lucky you ain’t got any.”

  This was some of the most peculiar talk I’d ever heard. Not that it surprised me much, as it came from Jesse.

  “Gotta keep ‘em covered all the time…”

  “Not that you do so.”

  She shook her head and kept frowning at them. “They’re only just me. Same as my face or hands. I don’t all the time gotta wear a mask and gloves, do I?”

  “It’s different.”

  “That’s for durn sure. It beats me why, though. Shouldn’t oughta be, do you think?” Before I could come up with an answer, she plugged on. “They’re a plain nuisance. Men always gawping at ‘em. Grabbing if they get half a chance.

  That damn German went and sucked on ‘em. How come he didn’t latch onto my shoulder instead? Or my forehead?”

  “I don’t exactly know, Jesse. It’s that there’s something rather splendid about breasts.”

  Saying the word set me to blushing fierce.

  “Well, it don’t make a lick of sense.” She pushed against her breasts, mashing them against her chest. “How’s that?”

  Lucky hands, I thought. But kept mum, judging she might not appreciate a remark of that caliber. Besides, I doubt that any comment at all could’ve squeezed through my throat at that moment. I was flustered and stirred up something awful.