by J. Roberts
Clint didn’t know how much later it was, but he woke to see Luisa slipping into the room, carrying his clothes in a bundle. He was lying on his back. He closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep, but he could feel her looking at him from across the room, and his body responded. In moments his penis was erect, hidden by the sheet that was covering him—but not really hidden.
Eyes still closed he listened for Luisa to leave, but from the sound of it she wasn’t leaving. He heard her moving, though, and suddenly her breathing—rapid breathing—was right next to the bed. He debated opening his eyes, but suddenly she was touching him through the sheet, running her hand up and down the length of his hard penis. He wondered what would happen if he did open his eyes. Would she stop? Run out of the room? His body didn’t want her to do either of those things.
So he kept his eyes closed, even as she grasped the top of the sheet and peeled it down until it was around his ankles. She made a sound like “Um,” and then he felt her fingers on his cock. She slid her fingertips along the underside, making the organ jump on its own. He felt something on the bed—a knee? Elbow?—and then her tongue was on him.
He moaned and opened his eyes just as she took him fully into her hot mouth. He reached down and cupped her head with his hands.
“I have awakened you?” she asked, after releasing him from her mouth.
“You have,” he said.
“You would like me to leave?”
“I would not.”
She smiled, stood straight up. He watched as she removed first her blouse, then her skirt. She was naked beneath. Her big breasts swayed as she kicked away the skirt, and then she was in the bed with him. She took his hard cock between her big breasts, letting him fuck her between them. She kissed his chest, his stomach, then pressed her breasts against his thighs as she once again took him into her mouth. Her puffy nipples felt like hard little nubs on his skin. Her wet tongue felt like silk.
She sucked him wetly for some time, as he swelled until he thought he would explode. She released him, then climbed astride him and sank down on him, taking him inside. The heat was molten and he groaned as she began to ride him.
The movements of her breasts fascinated him. They bobbled as she rode him up and down, the dark brown nipples dancing in front of his eyes. She had her head back, her eyes tightly shut, and she was biting her bottom lip to keep from crying out. Her nostrils flared each time she came down on him, and at times she almost snorted.
He brought his hips up to meet her every thrust, still keeping his eyes on those nipples, as if hypnotized by their movements.
Finally, the heat built up inside of him until he couldn’t control it. As he exploded into her she cried out and he grunted aloud. She sprawled on top of him and he held her tightly, her pillowy breasts mashed between them . . .
Dodge had found a place in front of an abandoned building. It kept him hidden from anyone riding into town from the trail to the north. He might be seen from the south, but as long as he kept his badge beneath his vest he didn’t think he’d attract attention.
Manuel relieved Dodge, who told him, “Nothing—haven’t seen a soul ride in.”
“I have been told not many riders come here,” Manuel said.
“That must be why they appreciated Dowd’s money,” Dodge said. “Where’s Clint?”
“He is in Luisa’s house.” Even though Manuel had heard sounds that led him to believe otherwise he added, “I believe he is asleep.”
“Where am I sleeping?”
“Come,” Manuel said. They walked a distance and then he pointed. “That house belongs to a man named Arturo Vasquez. He had an extra room. Just tell him who you are, señor. When he sees your badge he will do what he can for you.”
“Okay,” Dodge said. “Thanks. I’ll see you later.”
“Sí, señor.”
“If you see Dowd,” Dodge said, “don’t try to take him yourself. Come and fetch me and Clint. Savvy?”
“Sí, señor, I understand.”
“Good, good,” Dodge said. “We’ve been after this man for a long time now. I want to make sure we take him alive and bring him back.”
“Sí, señor.”
Dodge walked to the home of Arturo Vasquez, and was immediately shown to a comfortable bed.
SIXTEEN
Clint buried his face between Luisa’s bountiful breasts, inhaled the scent of her skin, and the musk of her sweat. He licked beads of perspiration from her, and found them sweet and salty.
Luisa was on her back, her chubby thighs open to Clint. He nuzzled her breasts, bit her nipples, while he slid his hand down between her legs to cup her bushy black mound.
“Oh, dios,” she said, as his fingers delved into the hair and found her wet and slick. He glided his fingers along her wet slit and she caught her breath. He slid one finger inside of her, and then a second. She tensed, then relaxed with a contented sigh.
He couldn’t pull himself away from her breasts for some time. This was his favorite part of a woman’s body, and Luisa had wonderfully full, heavy ripe breasts with large, brown nipples. He finally had to leave her nipples because he was afraid she’d be too sore to wear her blouse the next day.
He moved down her body, then, kissing her belly, her thighs, rubbing his face along her smooth skin, moving closer and closer to her wet, fragrant pussy. Finally, he removed his fingers and pressed his tongue to her, tasting her, and she jumped and gasped. He began to lick her avidly, lapping up her sweet-salty juices and driving her into a frenzy of passion that went on and on and on, leaving her shaken and exhausted . . .
But he wasn’t done with her. Not by a long shot. He straddled her and pressed the spongy head of his hard cock against her pussy. She was so sensitive that she gasped again, her eyes going wide, as he drove himself inside of her, and then she was off again, wave after wave of pleasure flowing over and around her, and through her, as he fucked her at a steady pace, his own eyes closed, chasing his own pleasure while she writhed and moaned beneath him . . .
“Señor Clint,” she said, breathlessly, “never before have I known such . . . such pleasure.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. “You’re quite a woman, too, Luisa.”
“Oh, I was not a woman until now,” she said. “No man has ever made me feel . . . that!”
He kissed her.
“Then you’ve been with the wrong men.”
“Sí,” she said, “I have. Por favor,” she added, reaching down and grasping his semierect penis. “Tell me you have come here to be with me and you will never, ever leave.”
“I wish I could tell you that, Luisa,” Clint said, trying to sound sincere, “but I’m here to make an arrest and then I must leave and take the prisoner back to Tombstone.”
“Oh, I know that,” she sighed. “I know you cannot stay, so we have no time to waste.” She rolled over on top of him.
“Luisa,” he said, putting his hands on her majestic butt, “I have to take my turn and go and stand watch for . . .”
“You have time, señor,” she said, covering his mouth with hers.
Well, he thought, maybe a few more minutes . . .
But it turned out to be more than a few minutes.
They had to stay there for three more days before Jack Dowd finally showed up. So Clint spent two more frenzied, magnificent nights with Luisa in her bed, so that he could hardly walk straight by the third day.
Manuel seemed to be having the same problem. Both sisters—though physically very different—seemed to be similarly insatiable in bed.
“I hope Señor Dowd comes soon,” Manuel said to him that morning, “or I will not be able to walk straight ever again.”
It had become known between them that each was spending the night in the other sister’s bed.
“I know what you mean, Manuel.”
Manuel smiled and said, “You see what I meant about the wimmins?”
“Oh, yeah,” Clint said, “I see.”
It was Dodge
himself who was on watch when Jack Dowd rode into town from the north. Dodge watched the man ride in and dismount, step inside one of the buildings to do his business.
Dodge broke from cover and ran to get both Clint and Manuel who, at that moment, were eating in Victoria’s kitchen.
“He’s here,” Dodge said, bursting into the room. “Just rode in.”
“Where?” Clint asked.
“He dismounted and went into one of the buildings, I assume, to pick up his supplies.”
Manuel’s friend was also present, and he quickly stepped up to warn them.
“Señors, there are those here who do not want you to take Señor Dowd,” he said. “They want his money to keep coming in.”
“Well, his money ain’t gonna last much longer,” Dodge told Manuel’s friend. “He’s on the run. I’m sure his money’s just about run out.”
Clint wasn’t so sure of that. He didn’t know how much money Dowd had ended up with from the Bisbee bank. The robbers might have split the money between them after they left town.
“I will come with you, señor,” the man said. “Perhaps I can prevent bloodshed. The people listen to me . . . most of the time.”
“Most of the time?” Clint said, looking at Dodge.
“Hopefully,” Dodge said, “this’ll be one of those times.”
SEVENTEEN
The building Dowd had gone into was like a small trading post. Dodge, Clint, Manuel, and Manuel’s friend approached and stopped just outside.
“Do we wait for him to come out?” Manuel asked.
“We could,” Dodge said, “but that might encourage some people out here to try to help him.”
“Inside’s better,” Clint said. “It cuts down on his options.”
“What about hostages?” Dodge asked.
“Does he know you?” Clint asked.
“On sight, yeah.”
“Okay, I’ll go in first, see how many other people are in there. I might be able to safeguard them when you walk in. Give me five minutes.”
“What if he starts to come out?” Manuel said.
“Then I’ll follow him out and we’ll brace him there,” Clint said. He looked at Dodge. “Okay with you?”
“That’s fine. Let’s do it.”
Clint walked into the building and was glad to see only two people, the man behind the counter and the fellow who had to be Jack Dowd. Dowd was a big man who looked and smelled as if he’d been in his clothes for a long time. He was wearing a jacket, with his gun belt on the outside, where it was always available. Clint had no idea how good Dowd was with a gun, and didn’t want to find out. It would be better to take him without a shot fired.
Clint walked around the small store while Dowd told the clerk what he wanted. He found himself a position where he could see the man from just behind him, only Dowd then noticed him from the corner of his eye and stopped talking.
“Hey, friend?” Dowd said.
“Yeah?” Clint responded. “Are you talking to me?”
“Yeah, I am,” Dowd said. “You wanna stand where I can see you?”
“Why’s that?”
“I don’t like havin’ you behind me.”
“Hey, friend, I’m just looking around.”
Dowd turned to face Clint.
“I’m askin’ you to stand where I can see you,” he said, his hand hovering near his gun.
“You don’t want to do that, Dowd.”
Dowd frowned.
“How do you know my name?”
“Just stand easy—”
“I asked you how you know my name.”
“Because I told him,” Dodge said, from the door.
Dodge stepped in and moved to the right, while Manuel stepped to the left.
“Dodge,” Dowd said.
“Take it easy, Jack,” Dodge said. “You’re comin’ back to Tombstone.”
Dowd licked his lips. Clint thought there was a look of relief on his face, as if he as glad to see Dodge.
“This fella with you?” he asked, indicating Clint.
“Yeah, he is,” Dodge said. “That’s Clint Adams.” That shook Dowd.
“Jesus, I almost threw down with the Gunsmith?” he asked. He raised his hands, then. “Take my gun, Dodge.”
“Get it, Manuel,” Dodge said.
Manuel stepped up, quickly plucked Dowd’s gun from his holster.
“Time to head back?” Clint asked.
“We’ll talk outside,” Dodge said. “Come on, Dowd.”
They marched Dowd outside, came face-to-face with about half a dozen armed Mexicans. At the head of them was Manuel’s friend.
“I thought you said they listened to you?” Dodge asked.
“They do,” the man said, from behind his rifle.
EIGHTEEN
Clint studied the six men. The years had made it easy for him to read men, to see if they were really ready to fire the weapons they were holding. What he saw here were some clerks with guns who weren’t ready to go to war.
Clint looked at Manuel’s friend, whose name he had never learned.
“What’s your name?” he asked. “We never heard.”
“I am Armando.”
“Armando, you’re about to get five men—and maybe yourself—killed, and for what?”
“These are good men,” the Mexican insisted.
“I’m sure they are,” Clint said, “but Dodge and me, we live by our guns. I guarantee we can put all six of you down, especially with Manuel’s help.”
“We will get one of you.”
“Maybe,” Clint said, “but what will that accomplish? The other two will still take Dowd back.”
“He has been spending a lot of money here,” Armando said. “We need that money.”
“Any of you men have wives?”
He saw four of them exchange glances.
“Your wives need you alive more than they need this man’s money.”
“I’m the law,” Dodge said.
“You are not the law here,” someone pointed out.
“Good point,” Dodge said, “but this man is Clint Adams, the Gunsmith, no matter where we are.” He pointed at Clint. “He alone could kill the six of you without reloading.”
That got to at least four of the men, who lowered their rifles.
“We are takin’ this man back with us,” Dodge said. “He is wanted for murder. If all you want is his money, then here.” Dodge stepped to Dowd’s side and went through his pockets. He came up with some silver, and some paper money. He tossed it on the ground between him and the six men.
“Hey!” Dowd said.
“You’re not gonna need it where you’re goin’, Dowd,” Dodge said.
The six men stared at the money on the ground.
“Go ahead, take it,” Dodge said.
Armando said something to the other men, who lowered their rifles and walked away. Then he stepped forward and picked up the money.
“We need permission to take this man out of Mexico,” Dodge said to Armando. “Where is the Jefe Politico?
“He is at the Minas Prietas Mine.”
“Do you have a jail?”
“Sí, but it is no good. It would not hold anyone for very long.”
“Okay, then we’ll go to Minas Prietas,” he said. That was where Daniels and the others had gone, anyway.
“You can go,” Armando said. “We will not try to stop you again.”
“No, you won’t,” Dodge said, “because next time you won’t walk away so easy. Comprende?”
“Sí, señor,” Armando said, looking over at Clint. “I understand.”
“Get out of here,” Dodge said, and Armando walked away.
“That was smart, giving them the money,” Clint said.
“Thanks. Manuel?”
“Sí, señor.”
“Except for Clint, we need fresh horses.”
“Sí, señor,” Manuel said. “I will see to it.” He looked at Clint. “I will bring your horse, señor.”
“Gracias, Manuel.”
“We’ll wait here,” Dodge said. “Sit down, Jack.”
Dowd sat down on the steps to the store.
“Think Daniels and the others will still be at Prietas?” Clint asked.
“I hope not,” Dodge said. “I hope they found the other men and took them back to Tombstone.”
“They probably did,” Dowd said. “That’s where they went.”
“Then you’ll be reunited with them in Tombstone, Dowd,” Dodge said. “What was this about, Jack? You been straight since the day I met you. Now you’re a goddamned bank robber.”
“I needed the money.”
“That’s it?”
Dowd shrugged. “That’s it.”
“First bank robbery, and you got caught?”
Dowd shrugged. “I’m ready to go back,” he said. “I’m tired of running.”
“Well, that’s good,” Dodge said, looking at Clint, “because I know we’re tired of chasing you.”
NINETEEN
When they reached the Minas Prietas Mine, Dodge got together with the Jefe Politico, with Jack Dowd hand-cuffed to his left wrist. Clint and Manuel waited outside.
“Señor, I am sorry about Armando,” Manuel said. “I did not know.”
“It’s not your fault, Manuel. Some people change when it comes to money.”
“Señor Dodge, he does not blame me?”
“No, he doesn’t blame you,” Clint said. “Don’t worry about it. Everything turned out okay.”
“Sí, señor,” Manuel said. “Okay.”
When Dodge came back out he had permission to remove Dowd from the district and take him back to the United States, and back to Tombstone.
They mounted up and Dodge removed the handcuffs to cuff Dowd’s hands together.
“If you try to run,” he told the man, “I’ll kill you.”
“I told you, Dodge,” Dowd said, “I’m ready to go back.”
“Good,” Dodge said. “Manuel, take the lead.”
“Sí, señor.”