by Jake Logan
“What about the Forcelli brothers? We cut one of ’em up so the other could watch. And when he didn’t pay us, we cut him next so we could help ourselves to all the livestock they bought with the money they borrowed. Was that more than you could chew?”
“First of all, going after a man like John Slocum ain’t anything like going after a pair of no-good leeches like the Forcellis. Them brothers shot their mouths off and got what was coming to them. Slocum is something else. He’s dangerous.”
“So are we,” Cale quickly reminded him. “And when word spreads that we collected our debt even when someone like him was trying to keep us from it, we’ll be able to write our ticket in Bickell as well as that whole county and at least three others. We might be able to pull together a better gang than we ever had before.”
“You think we can take him?”
“Yeah. A reputation ain’t nothing but talk. Even if some of them stories about him are true, that just means he can use a gun. So can we. Hell, you can pick them off while they’re riding from a hundred yards away.”
“Then why the hell haven’t you let me do that yet?” Bryce asked.
“Because my brother deserves better.”
Those words were spoken with such ferocity that Bryce didn’t dare question them. Every muscle in Cale’s body was tensed, which meant he was just as ready to pull the trigger of his gun now as he’d been when it had been aimed at Warren. Rather than push the matter any further, Bryce let it rest.
Shifting his gaze to the path in the distance, Bryce squinted and studied the men riding it. “Still haven’t found that third man. There’s only two down there.”
“You know your arithmetic,” Cale chuckled. “That puts you several notches above Warren.”
“The other one could have spotted us by now.”
“If he had, them other two wouldn’t be moseying along the way they are. Don’t you agree?”
“I suppose, but that doesn’t mean we should stay here much longer.”
“If we’re going to convince them that we’re still together, we need to lay down tracks they won’t miss. The fresher the better. As long as we stay close together and ride in single file, Adam or them others won’t be able to tell if they’re following two or three men.”
“An experienced tracker would know,” Bryce pointed out.
“That’s why I sent Warren out ahead of us. He’s sure to be spotted, which means he’ll lead them in the right direction. And since he’ll be spotted on his own, an experienced tracker will just assume he’s the scout and that they picked up the remaining trails when they find ours. As soon as we hit Adalee, we split up to break off our tracks and then you ride ahead to Teaghan’s Cross.”
“What will you be doing?”
“Hanging back to provide a few more bread crumbs for them to follow.”
“Ain’t that the kid’s job?”
“Sure,” Cale replied. “But Warren may get himself killed along the way. If he don’t, he’ll just make things even more confusing for Adam and his two partners until they find their way to where we want them to be. Since Slocum’s such a bad man, let’s give him a proper target to shoot at.”
“What if they’re watching us closer than we think?”
“Then they’ll just see two of us headed into Adalee. If you’re not good enough to get to where you’re going, then you—”
“I know,” Bryce cut in. “I deserve whatever I get. Why didn’t you tell Warren about the rest of this plan before sending him away?”
“Because he’s the weakest link in this chain. There ain’t no reason to confide in a weak link. How much time do you need in Teaghan’s Cross before the rest of us show up?”
Bryce scratched his chin as he led his horse farther away from the ridge. By the time he climbed into his saddle, he’d arrived at his conclusion. “A full day would be best. That’d allow me to get a feel for the town and clear a few paths to set up a reception for Slocum and Adam. What about the third man? Do you know anything about him?”
“Name’s Ed Triedle. Just some two-bit gambler who makes a living cheating ranch hands and cowpokes out of their salary.”
“Is that all?”
“As far as I’m concerned,” Cale said while settling into his saddle and riding to the northeast, “once my brother was shot dead, every last one of those assholes became the same thing in my eyes. Dead. First I killed that bitch sister of Adam’s and now I run them other three until they’re too tired to see straight. After that, I don’t care if Adam’s got John Slocum, Wild Bill, or the devil himself riding alongside him. They’ll all be dead.”
18
ADALEE, TEXAS
Slocum followed the tracks from the outcropping of rocks, only to realize they’d circled completely back around to a ridge overlooking the trail he’d ridden earlier that day. It didn’t take a very big leap in logic to figure out Cale and his men had been watching them throughout the day and had moved on long before they were in danger of being discovered. From there, he’d picked up three sets of tracks that all pointed him toward a meandering trail that ended at another small town. This one was larger than a camp, but not by much. It consisted of three streets that were wide enough to accommodate a stagecoach and several smaller avenues that were barely suitable for walking. Along all of those routes were shops, homes, a schoolhouse, two churches, and three saloons.
“Well,” Triedle mused, “at least they got their priorities straight.”
“If you intend on looking for a game in one of those saloons, you might as well stay there.”
“That’s not what I meant, John. Aw, hell. If you don’t trust me by now, it ain’t gonna happen. All I know is that I’m sick of explaining myself to the likes of you.”
Slocum nodded and swung down from his saddle so he could lead his horse to a livery. “I can understand that. Consider the matter dropped.”
That was all that was said on the subject, but it was plain enough to tell by the tone in his voice that Slocum would drop a fist or his boot on some delicate portions of the gambler’s anatomy if the trust he’d been given was proven to be misplaced.
Once the horses were tended, both men walked along the town’s main street. “So them tracks led here?” Triedle asked.
“That’s right. Adam swore by it and the ones I found didn’t make me think otherwise.”
“You think they’re still trying to keep watch on us?”
“Oh, I know they are.”
That stopped Triedle as surely as if a door had been slammed in his face. “How can you be so certain of that?”
“We’ve said that all along. Weren’t you listening?”
“Sure, but you sound like you’re talking about the sun coming up tomorrow. Like it’s not an educated guess.”
“It’s not. I saw one of them riding alongside our trail outside of town.”
“You think he was watching us or just riding in to town?” Triedle asked.
“Probably both.” When Triedle fixed a concerned glare on him, Slocum asked, “Why does that surprise you?”
“Because you never mentioned that you actually spotted someone. I mean, we knew they could be watching us, but that we would just be keeping an eye out.”
“Obviously you were doing a bang-up job there,” Slocum chuckled. “Besides, you were too worked up about getting picked off by a rifle. If I would have said something about being followed, you would have just gotten yourself whipped up into a lather.”
“I think that’s something worth fretting about!” Looking around as if he was surprised by the tone of his own voice, Triedle lowered it when he asked, “Where did our shadow go?”
“I don’t know. I lost sight of him about a mile outside of town.”
“What?”
“Which is another reason why I didn’t mention it.”
Triedle sighed and put his back to the wall next to the front door of a saloon. “Is this some twisted way of paying me back for all that New Orleans talk?”
“Yeah,” Slocum admitted. “A little bit.”
“So what now?”
“I’ll look through this town and you’ll ask about any strangers.”
“Brilliant,” Triedle said. “So I just step right up to a bar and ask if anyone’s seen any killers lurking about? That should work just fine so long as Cale and his boys were announcing who they are and what they’re doing.”
“I said look for strangers, smart-ass. If there’s one thing any barkeep knows, it’s when strangers come to town. If they don’t know, there are plenty of others in those places who would. You know,” Slocum added as he cast a sideways glance at Triedle, “unsavory types like yourself.”
“Never pass up a chance to sneak in a jab, do you?”
“Not if I can help it.”
“Fine. I’ll ply my trade while you do what? Look for cathouses?”
“Just do your job so we can get the hell out of here and move on if that’s what we need to do.”
Triedle grumbled to himself while storming into the saloon. By the time he was through the front door, he was already waving and greeting the locals as if he’d spent his entire life in that town.
19
Warren stood in the cramped little room, leaning toward the window and staring down at the street. One hand was lost in a bunch of curtains that he’d gathered up and moved away from the glass so he could peek outside. The other was clenched around the grip of his .45 and couldn’t seem to decide whether the pistol should stay holstered or come out to play.
His eyes narrowed as his upper lip curled back in response to the sight below. He watched as Slocum and Triedle eventually met and then parted ways on the street below. After the gambler went to the saloon, Slocum nearly got himself trampled by a wagon in his haste to cross the street. Since Warren wasn’t sure how much the other men knew about what was going on, he was ready to do anything from fire out the window or jump through it as the fastest means to get to ground level.
“What do you want here?” the woman behind him asked.
Without taking his eyes from the window, he snapped, “Shut yer mouth, bitch!”
She didn’t seem rattled by the gruff tone of his voice, but obviously didn’t appreciate it either. “If all you want is a view of the street, then—”
“I told you to shut yer damn mouth!” Warren said as he drew his gun and turned to aim it at her.
The woman in the room with him was about a foot shorter than Warren and wasn’t shocked by his display of temper in the slightest. In fact, she moved toward him as if drawn to the gun in his hand. “No reason for all of that, honey. I’m just saying there’s plenty more in this room than just the window.”
Although there was still some anger in his eyes, Warren didn’t know quite what to make of her. Rather than make more of a ruckus than what was necessary, he grumbled, “Sorry about that.”
Her hair flowed well past her shoulders in a thick, golden wave. Her rounded cheeks were colored by a little bit of rouge, but her lips didn’t need any help whatsoever. They were a natural red and curled into a seductive smile as she stepped up and placed her fingers on the barrel of his gun. “Think you could put that away for now?”
“Yeah,” Warren said as he holstered the .45 and spun around to look out the window. “Just leave me alone. I’m busy.”
Not to be deterred so easily, she came up behind him and slid her arms around his torso while pressing against his back. “Too busy for me? You sure about that?”
Warren’s eyes drooped shut as he savored the touch of her hands against his chest. He snapped them open again and forced himself to keep his attention focused on the street. “I’m sure.”
“If we don’t conduct some business of our own,” she whispered, “Jersey will send some of his boys to kick you out of here. You can’t just charge through the front door, shove your way upstairs, and hole up in a room that anyone else would have to pay for.”
“Who the hell is Jersey?”
“The man who runs this establishment and he doesn’t mind cleaning blood off his floors.”
Despite the hesitation in his voice, Warren put on his bravest snarl when he said, “He can send all the men he wants up here. If he interrupts me before I’m ready to go, I’ll kill them all.”
“Or we could just conduct our own business.” She eased one hand down along his stomach and cupped his groin as she added, “It’d be a whole lot better than fighting.”
Warren’s erection grew no matter how hard he tried to keep his mind on the task at hand. She massaged him expertly, shifting between vigorous strokes and slow caresses. When he caught sight of Ed Triedle stepping out of the saloon, he let out a relieved sigh.
“What do you say?” she asked. “Ready for that business or would you still rather watch?”
“Just give me a minute.”
“Another minute and your business will be done, sugar. Then you’ll owe me some money.”
More horses ambled down the street, and when they passed, the gambler crossed to meet with his partner. Triedle had plenty to say and gestured with his arms in all directions, but Slocum remained calm. He placed his hands on his hips, kept his back to the hotel, his gaze on the far end of town, and finally started walking toward the livery.
The woman’s hands stopped where they were, holding Warren’s rigid pole as if she hadn’t decided whether to keep petting it or to tear it off. “I followed you up here before Jersey could send anyone to kick you out. If you’re trying to keep watch for someone, just tell me and I can put the word out. It’ll cost a bit extra, but I know damn near everyone in town.”
“Don’t need any help with that,” Warren said.
“Then how about you take advantage of my hospitality?”
“You a whore?”
“Like to think of myself as a hostess,” she replied. “A hostess who likes men and don’t see a problem with getting paid to do what I do best.”
“Thought this was a boardinghouse or maybe a hotel.”
“Either way, you’d need to pay for a room. At least here you’ll get a little something extra.”
“Why should I pay for it?”
“Because what I got is too good to give away for free.”
Outside, Slocum and Triedle were on their horses and riding down the street. Warren tried to get a better look at them, but could only see their silhouettes surrounded by the dust kicked up by their horses. Once they reached the corner, they snapped their reins and took off as if they’d been shot from a cannon. Warren smirked at the sight of them scampering away like rabbits.
“So what will it be?” she asked. “You gonna pay to keep Jersey happy or for me to keep you happy?”
“What’s your name?”
“You can call me Belle.”
Once Slocum and Triedle had ridden out of his sight, Warren turned around to face her. Belle’s eyes were light blue and became wide with the surprise of his sudden movement. When she started to take a step back, he grabbed hold of her wrist and said, “Maybe you should’ve let sleeping dogs lie, Belle. I’m not just any sort of man who can be trifled with.”
“Is that so?”
“Hell yes, it is. I’m an honest-to-God killer. What do you think of that?”
When he’d said that sort of thing to the girls in the town where he’d grown up or folks who stepped out of line after meeting him on the street, he always sparked a bit of fear that made the effort worthwhile. Belle, on the other hand, didn’t even try to pull her wrist from his grasp.
“I think that’s the reason I came up here,” she said. “You look like you know how to use that gun of yours.”
“I know how to use it, all right.”
Leaning so her full, rounded breasts touched his chest, she dropped her voice to a hungry whisper and said, “Then stop talking and use it.”
Warren shoved her toward the bed and started unbuckling his belt. Now that there was nothing worth watching in the street, he didn’t give a damn what was happe
ning on the other side of the window. Fortunately, Belle was giving him plenty to look at.
Although she hadn’t been shoved that hard, she staggered back until her legs hit the bed. Then she dropped down onto it and propped one foot against the side of the mattress so her skirts fell away to reveal a smooth, creamy leg. She smiled as if she got a thrill from sliding her hand along her thigh. “That’s it,” she purred. “Take out that gun.”
He couldn’t get his boots and shirt off fast enough. Rather than kick his pants off, he lowered himself on top of her the moment they were around his ankles. His gun belt hit the floor with a noisy thud that he barely seemed to notice. When Warren groped between Belle’s legs, he discovered she wasn’t wearing anything beneath her dress. Her pussy was warm and wet, covered with a thick patch of downy hair.
Spreading her legs a bit more, she wriggled beneath him until they were lying on the middle of the mattress. As soon as she felt his rigid pole brushing against her, she drew a long, deep breath. “What are you waiting for?” she demanded. “Put that in me and get to work.”
He wasn’t quick enough. Warren soon felt her hand wrap around his erection and guide it straight to her moist opening. After pumping into her once, that same hand grabbed him by the waist and pulled him closer while she bucked against him. It wasn’t until he was thrusting hard enough to make the bed creak that he finally got a reaction out of her.
“Harder!” she cried.
Despite what he might say to Cale or anyone else while sitting around a campfire, Warren hadn’t been with many women. Belle was the first that not only became excited by a rough manner, but couldn’t get enough of it. The harder he pumped into her, the wetter she got. Finally, he allowed himself to give in all the way and pound into her with every bit of strength he had.
At the first sign of him letting up, Belle gripped his arms and moved her hips with a rhythm of her own. When she pressed her hands flat against his chest, he didn’t have the will or the strength to resist. Belle flipped him onto his back and climbed on top of him. Fixing her eyes upon him while reaching between his legs, she said, “We’re not through yet, cowboy.”