by Jake Logan
“We would have, but the days are too short and the horses’ legs not long enough,” Slocum said, and everyone laughed.
“It ain’t funny.” Rory pouted and crossed her arms. “I’m telling you. He’ll do it again.”
“Unless—” Slocum held up his finger. “Unless someone stops him.”
The hurry-up meal the army prepared for them tasted delicious. Afterward, the posse members stumbled off to cots that the troopers showed them. Wakely went with them. Slocum stood back from the lamplight outside the mess tent and talked to Rory. The north wind swept his face. He knew the rain was over.
“Reckon you’re tired,” she said, looking at her boot toes and shuffling them.
“Tired’s a good word.”
“I guess I’ll ride south with you all tomorrow,” she said.
“You’re welcome.”
“Oh, I know that. My wagons can find their way home.” She drew her shoulders back, pushed her breasts forward, and shook her head. “You’re damn hard to forget, big man.”
“I get my business done up here, you know I’ll have to ride on.”
“Yeah, yeah, I heard that before. I ain’t deaf. I guess I just wondered how much longer you’ll be around here.”
“A week, ten days.”
She nodded as if she understood. “I’ll take that. Go get some sleep now.” She gave him a push, then lowered her voice. “I’ll catch you later.”
His gritty eyes closed, he nodded. “Good.”
Later would be nice. Except by the time he reached his bedroll, he had half a hard-on thinking about her being naked in bed. He’d wind up his business in Ogallala. After that, Deadwood might be a good place to check out. If Yoakem was there, he’d find him.
15
Rory’s freighters offered to deliver Wakely’s prisoners. So he hired two posse men to guard them, and the rest, along with Rory and Slocum, headed south. They rode hard and reached Lane’s place by afternoon. The rancher was at home and welcomed them. He shook Slocum’s hand and after hearing about the outlaws’ capture, sent them inside to eat some of Frisco’s vittles. Lane and Slocum went to the side to talk.
“When can we close the deal?” Lane asked.
“Money should be there. I mean at the bank. I can sign for him.”
“Good. I need to get situated up there and cut some hay.”
“I’ll meet you there in, say, two days and have it all set up for you to sign.”
“Good deal.” Lane nodded slowly. “Shame Yoakem got away.”
“They’ll get him. His days are numbered.”
“There’s less and less places to hide, isn’t there?”
“Right. No more Indian trouble?”
“No.” Lane covered his yawn. “But I ain’t gave up watching for ’em.”
“Best not to. I’m hungry.”
"Frisco’ll have some supper ready shortly. He’s a hand at it. ”
“Enough bad cooks in this world that a good one’s a treasure.”
Lane laughed and agreed. They headed for the door.
After the supper meal, with everyone full and relaxed, Slocum excused himself and went outside in the twilight. Rory caught up with him and grabbed his arm.
“Hold up there, mister. You headed for that place down by the creek?”
“That’s fine.”
“Good, I’m coming along.”
“All right.” He smiled at her in the night.
“Is ‘all right’ all that you can say?”
When they reached the horses, he leaned over close to her ear. “Hell, I was ready last night.”
She laughed aloud, then cut it off as if embarrassed. “I damn sure was, too.”
Satisfied they were far enough away from the house and the others, they unsaddled their horses, and hobbled them. She flung his bedroll on the ground and unbuckled his gun belt. She tossed her hat aside, dropped her suspenders, and began undoing buttons in the pearly starlight. Soon, her full breasts were exposed and she was shedding her pants. Then, bent over, she stripped away the underwear off her hips and stepped out of it.
He was so busy watching her that he got behind in undressing, and she stepped over to help him. The flat of her hand soon explored his dick and balls as she pressed herself against his left leg. Their mouths meshed together and their desire caught fire.
He cupped and fondled her breast. Then his hand slid across the smooth skin over the slight mound of her belly, and she parted her legs. She was one of those women who was wide down there between her legs, so his hand fit easily. His middle finger traced the damp seam, and soon he wiggled it in her so he could locate her clit. In a minute, he began to arouse her, his fingertip acting like an erection.
“Oh, Gawdamn . . .” She clung to him. “Let’s get in bed.”
He smiled and followed her down, the night wind sweeping over his butt. He parted her knees and crawled between them. With his upper legs against her raised butt, he inserted his erection in her, and she hugged her legs against him as he sought the bottom in short, quick plunges through the tight ring.
Her circle of fire was beginning to contract and each time he plunged past it, she moaned. Tossing her head in abandonment, she dropped her legs and spread them out sideways so he would ride high enough over her to rub her stiff clit. They were soon lost in a whirlwind of passion. With his stiff dick ready to explode, he hunched forward hard to bury it and pour in the cum.
She sprawled out in total collapse. Arms and legs spread apart on top of the blankets, she sighed. “Whoever taught you how to do that?”
“That would be a long story.” He moved off the top of her.
She gathered herself up and put both hands under her head to lie beside him.
“There was a woman lived close to our farm when I was a boy of, say, fifteen. Maybe thirty-five—but her husband had grown tired of her.”
“Was she ugly? Fat?”
“No. They lived on a plantation and he liked little slave girls better.”
“Oh.”
“Slaves were his, so he thought he could do as he pleased, even though my family frowned on that behavior.”
“I know how that is.”
“Anyway, he left a very voluptuous wife at home.”
“And you found her?”
“There was a gathering—a dance and supper at our place. I was all dressed up and I was doing as my mother ordered. Dutifully dancing with the various ladies. When I danced with her, she asked under her breath where we could meet and be alone. I about fainted.
“ ‘My room, third door upstairs,’ I said.
“She looked up there and said, ‘I’ll be up there in ten minutes.’ ”
“Whew, in the house,” Rory said.
“My legs about folded going up there and into the room. The night wind had the curtains blowing, there was a storm coming up. Soon, she came in the room like a shadow. The door opened and closed with only a slight peep of light and the rustle of her dress and skirts.
“She rushed over and kissed me. Then she swore me to secrecy and I agreed. With that over, she dropped to her knees, undid my pants, and my face turned red as a beet. She took my limp dick and began to suck on it. I couldn’t stand high enough on my toes to escape her. It grew harder and harder, and then it blew up. I thought my asshole would come through with it.”
“And what happened then?”
“She got up and kissed me hard. Hugging me to her big breasts, she said, ‘It will be storming in a while. John has already left on business. I shall ask your mother for you to drive me home.’”
“So you took her home?”
“Yes. And it was storming so bad I spent the night. We did it backward, forward, and in every position that first night, and she showed me many things in the next few months.”
“What happened to her husband?”
“He was thrown off a high-spirited horse and broke his neck. It killed him. She had her first child six months later.”
“Yours?”
/>
“Might have been. She never had been with child before, she said. But the baby did not live.”
“Shame. What happened to her?”
“She married her first cousin, an older man and widower. I lost my teacher.”
“Dumb woman.”
“No, she needed an overseer. I was only a boy. Tell me about your life.”
“Oh, I had a few brushes with sex growing up. Tommy Bob Keffer, I let him finger me one night on a porch swing. That was exciting. But before my wedding night, I’d never had sex. That night of the wedding, my husband got so drunk he couldn’t raise a damn hard-on. That was one damn night, laying in bed, cussing my luck on how I’d saved myself for nothing. I could have killed him. He got over it, and then after that he rutted me in bed all the time like I was a sow.
“Man, that got old. I hated getting on my knees and doing it.”
Slocum put his fingers to her mouth. He’d heard something in the night.
“What is it?” she hissed.
He reached over her and took the six-gun out of his holster. His ears strained to hear above the crickets. Horses—
“There’s a half dozen of them,” she whispered in his ear, sitting up.
He nodded, seeing their silhouettes in the west. “No hats either.”
“Indians?”
He nodded, and began to pull on his britches, staying low. She did the same. “They after Lane’s horses?”
“I figure so.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Shoot hell out of them to wake Lane up.”
“I’m ready.”
He stuck the Colt in his waistband, swept up his Winchester, and levered a cartridge in the chamber. In his bare feet, he raced to the rise and began firing at the forms across the starlit prairie. They never bothered to answer his shots, but fled in the night to the north.
“What is it?” Voices challenged in the night.
“Horse thieves,” Slocum shouted. “Hold your fire.”
“Damn,” she swore. “I better get dressed before they get over here.” And she left him.
Thinking about her free breasts and her running off to dress, he smiled to himself and headed for the headquarters to give her some time to dress by meeting the others halfway.
“You see them?” Lane asked, armed with a rifle.
“Yeah,” Slocum said. “There were about a half dozen of them. They rode in from the south.”
“I guess I owe you again.”
“No problems. They won’t be back tonight and I aim to get some sleep. They may have hauled that damn Pony Boy up to the reservation, but I have a notion he never stayed long. Good night, guys.”
They parted and he went back to the bedroll. Rory was already back there under the covers. He shed his pants and crawled in with her. Her smooth, bare skin was warm against his, and he hugged her tight form from behind and fondled her tight breasts.
“I don’t think I’d mind you doing it from that position.”
He smiled, and stuffed his dick in her, hunching on his side closer to her.
In the morning, he’d make tracks for Ogallala and get things settled for Sam Oliver. As nice as it was to be tight up against her flat butt, he needed to move on before they arrived. The Kansas deputies. They’d show up in a few more days. He’d been here too long.
16
Slocum and Rory left the posse still saddling their horses at Lane’s headquarters, and rode hard for town. Slocum wanted to get his business in order by the time Lane drove down there. They arrived in Ogallala after sundown and ate supper at Sonny’s. A crowd soon gathered in the café, anxious to hear all the news about the posse and the outlaws.
“My wagons are bringing the three captured outlaws back,” Rory explained. “Wakely and the rest will be home tomorrow. We left them at Lane’s ranch and hurried down here.”
“Who captured them?” a man with a pointed chin asked.
“Wakely,” Slocum said. “It was his posse.”
“You there?”
Slocum nodded.
The man snorted. “Still ain’t voting for no damn Republican for sheriff.”
“You could do worse,” Slocum said, and turned back to his meal.
“Where you figure that Yoakem went?” someone else asked.
“Deadwood or Wyoming.”
“Hmm, just deserted them three, huh?”
Slocum looked up. “They said they separated the first day and were to meet up later.”
At that point, Sonny herded the crowd out the door, saying, “Let them eat. They’ve been riding for a long time to get here.”
Slocum looked over at Rory with his fork in hand. “I’d hug his neck.”
“They damn sure had to ask about everything, didn’t they?” She shook her head in disgust and went back to eating.
“I’ll go up to the hotel and get a room.”
“No way.” She gave him a wry look. “I’ve got a bed and room over the office. It ain’t fancy, but you can stay there.”
“What about—”
“My reputation?” She laughed aloud. “Half the town thinks I’m a tramp and the other half wish they were that lucky.”
He chuckled and went back to eating his roast beef. All her tough talk and drinking beer in the saloon like a man did make her an obvious source of gossip. Hell, he’d sure wish for her after a few nights of sleeping by himself.
The door opened and a man staggered into the café. Tottering unsteadily, he looked around. “You the gawdamn law?” He looked straight at Slocum.
“No. Who do you need?”
“The damn law—”
“What for?”
“You know that guy killed his woman and kids?”
“Black. Yes, where is he?”
The man held out a dirty palm “Pay me.”
“How much?”
“I want the fucking reward.”
“Tell me.”
“Not—without—the money.”
“How much?” Slocum stood up and shook his head at Rory’s offer to help him.
“A hundred dollars.”
“I’m a little short. You take two and I’ll just owe you the rest.”
“Two?” He blinked his eyes. “Two dollars?”
Slocum reached out, put the coins in his palm, and closed his fist. “Here. I’ll owe you the rest. Now where is he?”
“Hiding out at my place.”
“Where’s that?”
“Shack town. It’s on the far end.”
“Last one?” He looked at Rory, and she agreed like she knew where he meant.
The man nodded.
“Good. Thanks for being such a good citizen.” Slocum headed him toward the door and closed it after him.
“What are we going to do?” Rory asked, joining him as he was getting ready to pay for their food.
Sonny waved them on. “That food’s on me. Better be careful down there.”
“Thanks. I savvy being careful.” He opened the door for her and waved at Sonny while going out after her.
“What do we need?” she asked
“A couple of shotguns.”
“I’ve got one at my office. I bet I can borrow one from Lacy across the street.”
“Go get yours. I’ll go borrow that one.”
“How come Black’s been hiding that close?” she asked.
“Hell, I have no idea. He may have come back.”
“Why did he kill ’em?”
“Lost his mind, I figure.”
“Damn, Slocum, poor dumb damn woman—those little dirty kids.”
“I know. I found ’em. Go get that gun.”
“Oh, Gawd, Slocum, I forgot. I’m sorry.” She took off running while he strode across the dark street.
The barkeep on duty gave him the shotgun without a word. “Them other boys coming in tonight?”
Slocum nodded. “Or tomorrow. They’re tired, but they’re all in one piece.”
“Good.” He nodded in approval,
and Slocum left him and the somber-faced men in the saloon.
Slocum and Rory rode their jaded horses out of town under the stars. She pointed out a way to ride west around the main thickets of willow and down a meadow.
“That old drunk’s name was Prego,” she said. “He’s got an old canvas-covered shack. Wonder why he was hiding him.”
“No telling.”
“You think Black’s desperate?”
“Can’t tell. When do we get close?” He twisted around in the saddle, not seeing much.
“Far end.” She waved that direction.
They left their horses tied to a post-and-rack fence, then went from there on foot. A dog barked off in the distance, another answered. Slocum, who led the way, could smell wood smoke as they went through the willows in the inky night.
She caught his sleeve and stopped him at a narrow road. “I’m sure it is more to the right.”
“Good.” Staying close to the cover, they followed the wagon tracks in the sand until the shape of a building appeared against the sky.
“That’s his place,” she said.
“You stay behind me. How many ways in and out?”
“I have no idea. Just a shack.”
Slocum nodded and moved closer to the dark structure. Outside the front entrance made of boards, he listened for the sounds of someone sleeping. He heard nothing but the night insects. He tried the latch, and the door appeared to be locked. Then it swung open and Slocum was face-to-face in the night with a shaggy-faced man in a rage.
The man roared like a wild bull and swung a club. The shotgun deflected the blow, but the force tore the double-barrel weapon from Slocum’s hands. With a growl, the man rushed past him, spilling him on the ground.
“Hold it!” Rory ordered. But he ignored her and ran off into the darkness,
“You all right?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“I should have shot him.” She stamped her foot.
“That’s all right.” Slocum was on his feet, checking his borrowed weapon. From what he could see, it looked unscathed. “It ain’t an easy thing to do.”
“You get hurt?”
“No.”
"He went back toward town. How did he know we were coming after him?”