by Sharpe, Jon
“She has to pee,” Badger said.
“I know that,” Fargo said testily.
California snickered.
Fargo swung her down and patted her on the back. “Off you go.”
“In the dark?”
“You just said you had to.”
“Alone? You have to come with me.”
“Like hell.”
California let out a full-bellied laugh. “You have to excuse my pard, little lady. He’s never had kids of his own. Want me to take you?”
“No. I don’t know you. I want him.” Sophie clasped Fargo’s hand. “Or don’t you care if a bear eats me?”
“True love,” Badger said.
Fargo sighed and said something he never in his life thought he would say. “I’ll take you to wee-wee.”
13
They rode all night but it wasn’t until near noon of the next day that their mounts came to a weary stop at a hitch rail on Salt Creek’s dusty main street. No sooner did they draw rein than people came from everywhere.
Sagebrush Sadie and Bear River Tom were part of an exodus from the saloon. Tom clapped Fargo on the back and exclaimed, “You got her, pup!”
A fuss was made. The settlers gushed with thanks.
A young couple, friends of the Johnson family, offered to take Sophie off Fargo’s hands.
“But I want to stay with him,” the girl said, clinging to his neck.
“That wouldn’t do,” the woman said. “Horace and me have talked it over and we’re willing to take you in if we can’t find kin who claim you.”
Sophie shook her head and pressed her cheek to Fargo’s. “But he saved me.”
“You could marry him,” Badger said.
California Jim did more of his infernal snickering.
Sophie looked at them and at Fargo and at the woman and said, “Can I? Can I marry him, Matilda?”
“Oh, hell,” Fargo said.
Sophie pulled back and regarded him as if he had bit her. “I forgot you’re a foul mouth. Ma said never to have anything to do with foul mouths.”
“Your mother was a smart woman,” Matilda said. “You should do as she told you.”
“I’m sorry,” Sophie said to Fargo. “I reckon I can’t marry you, after all.”
“Dang,” Badger said.
And that was that. Relieved, and tired to his marrow, Fargo shouldered out of the press of the grateful and through the batwings. He needed sleep but he also needed a drink. He wasn’t alone long.
“That was awful decent, what you did,” Sagebrush Sadie said at his elbow.
“You’d have done the same.”
Sadie leaned on the bar. “Tom and me didn’t bury Tennessee. We figured you and the others would want to be there for the planting. We have the body wrapped in a blanket over in a root cellar. The townspeople offered to keep it for us until you got back.”
The last thing Fargo wanted to do was attend a funeral. But he said, “Great folks hereabouts,” and took a grateful swig.
“You sound bitter.”
“They shouldn’t be here.”
“Who?”
“These idiots,” Fargo said, with a sweep of his arm that encompassed the saloon and the settlement. “Building a settlement in the middle of Bannock country. And the Johnsons, homesteading where they did.”
“People never let a lack of brains stop them from living,” Sadie said.
“It sure as hell doesn’t stop them from dying.”
“I still can’t rightly blame them,” Sadie said. “I’ve done my own share of stupid things.”
From outside came a loud laugh. Bear River Tom thought something was hilarious.
“I wish it had been you here with me and not him,” Sadie remarked.
“He got frisky?”
“He knows better,” Sadie said. “I’d shoot him as soon as look at him if he so much as touched me. It’s just that he never shuts up. And the one thing he likes to talk about most is—” She stopped.
“Tits,” Fargo said.
Sadie nodded. “I swear, that man has tits for brains. His ma must have suckled him until he was twelve.”
Fargo did some laughing of his own.
“Anyway,” Sadie said. “What now? We still have no idea who brought us here, or why, and I’d sure like to find out.”
“You and me, both.” Fargo wasn’t the least little bit amused by the letters, especially now that they had cost the lives of Jed Crow and Tennessee.
“Speaking of which,” Sadie said, “how about we take this bottle and go off into the woods and be by ourselves for a spell?”
Fargo looked at her. Coming out of the blue, as it did, her invite puzzled him. “What happens if I get frisky?” He was only half joking. She had a body that any hot-blooded male would love to get his hands on.
Sagebrush Sadie looked him in the eyes and said, “I wouldn’t shoot you like I’d shoot Bear River Tom.”
Fargo was of two minds. Part of him, the sensible part, craved rest. He had been up for more than twenty-four hours, riding and fighting hard, and needed sleep. But the other part of him, the part that perked at a pretty face and twitched at shapely legs, perked up now.
Sadie must have misconstrued his hesitation. “Why wouldn’t I want to? So what if I wear britches instead of a dress? I have needs the same as any gal.”
“I didn’t know you were interested.”
Sadie surprised him by saying something he had said to women a hundred times or more. “Don’t make more of it than there is. It’s not like I want to be man and wife.”
“You’re an independent lady,” Fargo said by way of a compliment, and was surprised when she bristled.
“What’s that supposed to mean? A woman can’t do man’s work? I’ve been hearing that all my life.”
“Hell, Sadie,” Fargo said. “I only meant you stand on your own two feet.”
“You’re damn right I do. And I’ll go on being as I like to be until the day I die.”
“Good for you.”
Sadie didn’t seem to hear him. “I am sick to death of people who won’t accept me as I am. Of always having to prove myself because I’m female. I can do anything you or California or Tom can do but everyone thinks I can’t just because I’m a woman.”
“Not everyone,” Fargo said. “We know how good you are.”
Sadie blushed slightly. “Thank you. I’m sorry about the outburst. It’s the rest of the world that judges a person by whether they have a peter or not.”
“I have one,” Fargo said, and gave the junction of her thighs a pointed look.
“Oh my,” Sadie said. She grinned and leaned toward him. “We’ll sneak off and not tell the others where we’re going. It’s none of their damn business, anyhow, and I’d rather not be teased.”
Fargo deemed that reasonable. “They’ll see us as soon as we walk out.”
Sadie pondered a few moments. “You slip out the back, and I’ll fetch my horse and yours. If anyone asks, I’ll say I’m bedding him down for you. Then I come get you and off we go.”
It seemed a little silly to go to such lengths but Fargo didn’t want to spoil her mood so he nodded.
“We can be back by nightfall with no one the wiser.” Sadie smiled and hurried out.
Fargo drained his glass and strolled out the back to wait. It wasn’t long before hooves clattered and around the saloon rode Sadie, leading the Ovaro by the reins.
“Here you go. Everyone is still fussing over that girl and no one noticed.”
Swinging up, Fargo asked, “Do you have a particular spot in mind?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” Sadie grinned and moved past him, up the valley toward Fort Carlson.
Far
go couldn’t imagine why she’d want to go there.
It wasn’t long, though, before Sadie turned up a gully that knifed a slope and wound up its serpentine length to a bench that afforded a spectacular view of Salt Valley. She didn’t stop there. She continued into the forest to a pine-hemmed hummock aglow in brilliant shafts of mote-filled sunbeams.
Drawing rein, she gazed happily around. “What do you think?”
“Pretty,” Fargo said, but he was thinking something else.
“We’ll have it all to ourselves. No one ever comes here.” Sadie swung her leg over her saddle horn and slid off. “Don’t sit up there all day.”
Fargo climbed down and pressed a hand to the small of his back. “How did you know this spot was here?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“A person could ride right by it and not know.”
“Oh.” Sadie smiled sweetly. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been to the Salt Range. I get around a lot, just like you do, I’d imagine.” She motioned. “How about we get a fire going? I’ll gather up the firewood.”
Fargo would rather get right to the reason they were there, but if the lady wanted a fire, it was fine by him. Opening his saddlebags, he took out his lucifers.
Sadie wasn’t gone long. She returned with an armful of broken limbs and sticks. “I found this for kindling,” she said, and showed him an old bird’s nest.
Fargo did the honors. The nest ignited at the touch of a lucifer. He made a teepee of sticks and when small flames crawled up them, he added a few branches and soon had a fire crackling.
Sadie opened her own saddlebags and came over holding something behind her back. “Guess what I brought.”
“Monongahela?”
Sadie held out a bottle. “I always have one handy for snake bites and such.”
“A gal after my own heart,” Fargo said. Taking it, he treated himself to a long swill. “Always hits the spot,” he said, and smacked his lips.
“I reckoned it would help us relax and make the most of, you know.”
Fargo didn’t point out that when it came to that, he made the most of it without needing liquor. A woman’s naked body was intoxicating enough.
“It sure helps me,” Sadie said. Accepting the bottle, she swallowed, and coughed. “Believe it or not, I don’t drink all that much except when I make love.”
Fargo couldn’t say the same.
“I don’t handle liquor all that well,” Sadie prattled on. “It makes me sick as a dog.”
“Go easy on the coffin varnish, then,” Fargo advised.He wouldn’t like to have come all that way for nothing.
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not letting anything spoil this.” Sadie chuckled. “I’ve looked forward to cavorting with you since we met.”
“You could have fooled me.” Fargo usually knew when a woman was interested. There were telltale signs, none of which Sadie had exhibited.
“I did it to fool the others,” Sadie said. “Who I let touch me is none of their damn business.”
“Speaking of touching,” Fargo said.
Sadie put a hand to his chest. “Hold your horses. I need to work up to it. I’m shy, believe it or not.”
“Take however long you need,” Fargo generously offered. It was a small sacrifice to make for the privilege of poking her.
“You’re awful considerate.”
Fargo added another stick to the fire while admiring the swell of her bosom and those delectable full lips.
Sadie noticed, and grinned. Setting down the bottle, she showed that she wasn’t quite as shy as she claimed; she cupped her breasts and said huskily, “See anything you like?”
14
Fargo didn’t know what to make of her. He tried to recollect if he’d ever heard tell of her giving someone a tumble in the hay, and couldn’t. For all he knew, she was as pure as the driven snow. And now this.
“What are you waiting for?” Sagebrush Sadie asked with a come-and-touch-me smile.
“Are we in a hurry and I didn’t know it?”
Sadie lowered her hands. “No. I just reckoned”—she stopped, and gestured—“I’m trying to excite you. Guess I’m not much good at it.”
By rights, Fargo should be excited as hell. But something was nagging at him. He couldn’t figure what, and that annoyed him.
“The stories they tell about you,” Sadie said with a smile, “I naturally figured you’d have ripped my clothes off by now.”
“I’ve heard the same stories.” Fargo took the bottle and chugged. The whiskey would loosen him up. And give him time to think. His uncharacteristic hesitation made no sense. It took a lot to blunt his desire. The deaths of Jed Crow and Tennessee weren’t enough; he hadn’t known either all that well. If it had been California Jim or even Bear River Tom, it would be different.
“Are you fixing to sit there all damn day?” Sadie said, sounding irritated.
“Don’t plan on it,” Fargo said, and indulged in another swallow.
“The great cocksman Skye Fargo,” Sadie said sarcastically. “To get you to perform, I guess a gal has to wrestle you out of your britches.”
“I’m not a trained bear,” Fargo growled.
“Is that how I’m treating you? I’m sorry. I told you I don’t do this a lot.” Sadie folded her hands in her lap. “Whenever you’re ready is fine by me.”
Fargo looked at her mouth and the twin bulges on her chest and admired how wonderfully long her legs were, and wanted to hit himself with the whiskey bottle. What in hell was he waiting for? Setting it down, he slid closer.
She sat still as he put an arm around her shoulders, cupped her chin, and kissed her on the mouth. She still just sat there. Thinking he might have spoiled her mood, he kissed her again, rimming her lips with his tongue even as he molded her back as if it were clay.
Gradually, he felt her relax. He kissed a cheek and an ear and nipped her lobe. When he licked her neck, she shivered. He sucked on her throat and bit her chin.
A hunger came into her eyes. “That’s more like it,” she said softly.
“You’re not one of those females who likes to jabber while she does it?” Fargo asked.
“My lips are sealed.”
“I hope not.” Fargo pressed his to hers and the kiss went on a long time, with her squirming and cooing like a dove.
This was more like it. Fargo stirred, his bulge growing when he covered a breast. He could feel her nipple, rigid as a tack, through her buckskin shirt. He squeezed and pinched and she groaned and lavished tiny kisses on his throat.
Fargo eased her down so she was flat on her back. Stretching out beside her, he undid her gun belt. She glanced down as if she didn’t like him doing that, but how else were they to do the deed? He sought to relax her even more by kissing and fondling and caressing her longer than he normally would. He wanted her ripe and ready, and to enjoy it as much as he did. Women sometimes went for a second helping if the first was to their taste.
He got her shirt up over her breasts; they were glorious, full and round and sensitive to his slightest touch. When he inhaled a nipple and sucked, she closed her eyes and moaned and dug her fingernails into his shoulders.
He switched to her other breast and gave it the same lathering.
Beside them the fire popped. Both horses were dozing. The woods were quiet and still.
Sadie unfastened his belt and slid his shirt up his chest. “Oh, my,” she whispered when she saw his corded muscles. “You have a dandy body. I could eat you alive.”
“Be my guest.”
She grinned, and kissed his chest and his ribs and his washboard belly. She stuck the tip of her tongue in his navel and swirled it.
By then Fargo had a redwood between his legs. He started to slide her pants down and she stiffened s
lightly.
She wasn’t quite primed.
Fargo was nothing if not patient. He went on stroking her. Sliding a hand to her left knee, he brought it up to her inner thighs, rubbing in small circles.
She was hot down there, almost as hot as the fire. He ran a finger between her legs and she clutched him and gasped.
When he cupped her nether mount, her eyes widened and she looked at him with a strange fierce intensity. He had a sense that she had been telling the truth about not being very experienced.
This time she didn’t tense when he commenced to slide her pants down. He had to remove her boots to get them all the way off.
At last she was naked. He took a few moments to drink in the sight—her sun-bronzed, beautiful face, the paler skin the sun seldom touched, the twin slopes of her melons, her thatch lower down, and the velvet sweep of those winsome legs.
“Like what you see, big man?” Sadie husked, and damned if she didn’t blush.
“Like it a lot,” Fargo said. Their mouths locked and he set to caressing every square inch of her that he could reach.
Off in the woods a finch chirped. Otherwise the woodland was undisturbed.
Fargo parted her nether lips and Sadie tried to suck his tongue into her throat. He rubbed, and she ground her hips into his. When his finger penetrated her, she threw back her head and for a second he thought she would cry out, but she bit her lip and trembled. He inserted a second finger, and pumped, and she tried to thrust herself into his palm.
She was wet. She was eager. She was as ready as she would ever be.
Easing onto his knees between her legs, Fargo touched the tip of his pole to her sheath. She looked him in the eyes with that same fierce intensity, and gave a nod of her chin.
Slow or hard, that was the question. Fargo chose hard. He rammed up into her. Now she did cry out, and raked his arms with her nails. She kissed him almost savagely.
Cupping her bottom, Fargo rocked her to the heights of carnal release. She mewed. She clawed. She was a she-cat, unleashed. In her ardor she drew blood but that was all right. A little pain added spice to pleasure.