by Tabor Evans
She stroked his arm. “Please don’t call me ma’am, or missus. Those terms make me feel so old. My name is Matilda Wayland. My friends know me as Mattie. I’d be pleased if you called me Mattie, as well, Marshal Long.”
“Mattie?”
“Yes.”
“I like it.”
At the corner of Fort Worth’s Main and Second, she leaned against him as though they were lovers, then let her head rest on his upper arm. “Wish I’d never spoken to the man. My mother taught me better. My God, what must I have been thinking?” she mumbled.
“Say you met him on the Jacksboro stage?”
“Yes, I’d made the connection from Wichita Falls on my way to visit family in Tyler.”
As they stepped onto the boardwalk in front of the El Paso Hotel, Longarm said, “Quite a long trip for an unescorted lady, don’t you think? Wouldn’t it have been better to travel in the company of an attendant or relative?”
“No,” she said. “I’ve never considered my solitary travels as any immediate threat to my person. I’ve made this exact same journey a number of times before, and met many other men on the coach without incident.”
“You just never know about people, Mattie.”
“I suppose. Truly, nothing seemed amiss on this outing, until that horrible beast forced me to accompany him to dinner. Of course, I protested his surly treatment, but my complaints fell on deaf ears. Worse, his brutish actions have caused me to miss my stage. My bags must be halfway to Tyler by now. All I have with me is my purse. And there won’t be another coach for two days. I have no inkling what I’ll do for a place to spend the night in peace and safety.”
As their comfortable stroll continued, Longarm said, “No doubt about it, you’ve had a difficult evenin’, Mattie.”
“I do believe that the worst part of the whole experience came after we sat down at the table in the restaurant. That’s when his insistent and bold behavior got completely out of hand. The more he drank, the more profane and suggestive he became.”
“Did you even know the man’s name?”
“He called himself Quincy Ballentine.”
Longarm stopped dead in his tracks, pulled the woman to a halt at his side, then gazed back down the street toward the entry of the White Elephant. “You’re sure about that, Mattie? Quincy Ballentine? Sweet Jesus.”
“Do you know the horrible swine, Mr. Long?”
“Indeed, Mattie. I know the horrible swine. Didn’t recognize him.”
Chapter 8
Longarm turned and gazed down at the woman. “Well, let’s just say that I know of the horrible swine. And what I know isn’t good, by any measure available to reasonable people. He’s a bad’un. His cadre of friends might well be even worse—if such a thing is possible. Makes me think Luke Short could’ve been right. Maybe I shoulda just gone ahead and killed the rotten skunk while I had the upper hand.”
“Oh, my word. You mean he’s that depraved an individual?”
“He is indeed. Quincy Ballentine’s rotten to the core and perhaps a lot worse.”
She fanned her face with the tiny handkerchief. “But he seemed so pleasant while we were on the stage. Most gracious, and friendly to a fault. Well behaved, even. No problems whatsoever.”
“What did you say, back there in the restaurant? Do you remember what set ’im off?”
Several seconds of silence passed before she whispered, “Let’s just leave it with the fact that he made a number of indecent proposals.”
Longarm stopped on the boardwalk and turned her to face him again. “Look, Mattie, I just pistol-whipped the bejabbers out of a man I don’t really even know for behavior I found repulsive that he directed toward a beautiful woman. Cannot abide any man who’d slap a woman in public, or anywhere else for that matter. But I need to know exactly what he said to you, and why he felt compelled to strike you with such enthusiasm—twice.”
She dropped her gaze and refused to look him in the eye. “I’m such a goose. I should have known what to expect of a drunkard. Actually, now that I think about it, he started pouring the liquor down as soon as we stepped off the stage. And even though he’d bullied me into having dinner with him and caused me to miss my connection, I didn’t get terribly concerned about his growing belligerence until we were almost done with our meal. That’s when he exploded and turned brutally hostile.”
A degree of impatience tinged Longarm’s voice when he snapped, “But what did he say to you, Mattie?”
“He suggested that we retire to the nearest hotel room and…and…well, he wanted me to, you know, service him.”
“Jesus.”
A certain amount of strange excitement seemed to tinge her voice when she breathlessly added, “And he wasn’t shy about the kind of sexual favors he expected from me, either, Custis. He described, in the most graphic detail, while we sat right there at the table, exactly what he required.”
“And you said no.”
“Well, of course I said no. Twice. He hit me both times. I mean, gracious, the meal was nice, but is an unsophisticated country girl required to do just anything a strange man can think of for a plate of victuals and a glass of cheap wine?” She picked at a button on Longarm’s vest and swayed back and forth like a teasing little girl. “Then you came over to the table like some kind of knight in shining armor from a romantic novel and rescued me.”
As their walk turned back south, they passed the Club Room Saloon and Ten Pin Alley. Longarm pulled a cheroot from his vest and lit it. He shook the match out, flicked it into the street, then said, “Might be difficult to get you a room this late in the day. Bet every hotel in town is filled to the brim by now.”
Mattie squeezed his arm. The excitement bubbled up again when she said, “Why, Marshal Long, are you suggesting that I spend the night with you? Wherever that might be?”
“Why, I wouldn’t dare make any such suggestion.”
“Why not?”
The boldness of her question surprised Longarm, but he tried not to show the growing interest that had begun to burn somewhere just below the buckle of his pistol belt.
“See here, Mattie, I have a large room at the El Paso Hotel, across the street from the White Elephant. I’ll be in Fort Worth for about a week, and will be more than happy to share those quarters with you until such time as you can get back on the road to your family.”
She squeezed his arm once more. “That’s so very kind of you, Custis. And since I’m a woman alone, with nowhere else to turn, I’m inclined to accept your offer.”
“Good enough. Come along, then, and we’ll get the sleeping arrangements settled and make all the necessary preparations to see to your comfort while you’re in town.”
Longarm walked Matilda Wayland across Third Street, through the El Paso’s elegant lobby, and directly past the busy reception counter. He tipped his hat at the hotel’s clearly fascinated desk clerk, who nodded back and smiled knowingly but made no move to object to a paying guest’s selection for company.
Longarm ushered Mattie into his room, threw his hat on the chest of drawers, then went to each of the windows and pulled the curtains closed. He lit a fancy oil lamp covered by an etched glass shade, but left the wick low. As he shook the match to nothing more than a smoking cinder, he felt the stunning girl come up behind him. Her arms encircled his waist, and firm, melon-sized breasts pressed against his back. An inquisitive hand slid down the front of his pants, then squeezed.
She hugged him close, then pulled him around to face her. A moist tongue flicked over crimson, parted lips. She brought her hips up in a provocative move that pressed her sex against the rapidly responding member behind the crotch of his pants. “I’ve been thinking,” she hissed.
He smiled, bent over, playfully nibbled her neck, licked her ear, then said, “Have you, now? And what exactly have you been thinking, darlin’?”
Mattie inserted an inquisitive finger inside the front of his shirt, then tickled a spot on his bare chest while he went back to
nibbling at all the tender, sensitive spots he could find. “I’ve been thinking that I owe you a debt of gratitude I will probably never be able to fully repay, Custis.” She hesitated, pushed him back, gazed into his eyes, then added, “No matter what I do.”
He shook his head. “Now, look, Mattie. You don’t owe me anything. And besides, I’ve never been one to take liberties with a lady who finds herself in such a state of terrible disadvantage the way you have.”
“You can’t take liberties if I’m willing.” She moaned, then pulled his face down to hers with both hands and pressed a wet, inviting mouth to his. Her tongue slid over his lips as she broke the open-mouthed kiss. “Can you?”
Longarm slid a hand down one of the flushed girl’s muscular buttocks, the other up to a waiting breast, and squeezed both at the same time. He pulled her to the perfect spot, then hunched forward and rubbed his cock against her grinding crotch.
“I suppose not,” he breathed into her ear. “But let’s be clear on this matter. You’re absolutely sure you want to go through with what you’ve just implied?”
She gasped, made a moaning, mewling sound, then pushed his arms aside, stepped away, and in a single, practiced move shucked her dress. Soon, the crisp, ruffled blouse and all her undergarments, except for a pair of fancy embroidered silk open-crotched pantalets, lay in a rumpled pile on the floor. Totally bare from the waist up, she looked smaller, and younger. Giggling like a child, she took two bounding steps and jumped onto the bed.
Longarm watched, wide-eyed, as Mattie rolled onto her back, raised perfect legs into the air, caressed herself, top and bottom, then beckoned for him to hurry. The thought flashed across his mind that Mattie Wayland seemed just a bit too professional for the innocent she had first appeared to be. But he quickly dismissed the thought and began removing his own clothing. As he ripped at his vest and shirt, she tore a pair of skin-tight underpants away, laughed, and threw them at him. He could smell the ripe muskiness of her on the hand-sized garment when he pulled it off his shoulder and dropped it atop her other clothing.
Longarm’s brown tweed coat, vest, and blue-gray shirt quickly formed a second heap at the foot of the bed. He kicked low-heeled boots across the room, then pushed his high-waisted, near-skin-tight pants down.
Mattie squirmed on the sheets like she was lying on a bed of red-hot coals. She caressed her breasts, pushed one up, craned her neck forward, and nibbled at the nipple. She switched to the other nipple and watched, wide-eyed and fascinated, when his massive, rigid cock escaped the confines of his tweed pants, flipped up, and slapped against his flat belly with a resounding plop.
Her words sounded like shots from a Gatling gun. She yelped, “Come on, come on, come on,” then she raised her legs and used two fingers to open herself for him. “Fuck me like it’s the last time you’ll ever do it, Custis, and for the love of God, hurry.”
An animalistic grin creaked across his face. Longarm climbed onto the bed, then knelt between the hunching girl’s shapely legs. A flush of pink excitement covered her besotted face and shoulders. He leaned forward slightly and rubbed the stiff shaft and fist-sized head of his cock against her waiting, pink wetness. He kept the tease going while she moaned, clawed at his gyrating hips, and grabbed for the rampant beast between them.
When the agitated girl began to whimper like a whipped dog, pinch at her own nipples, and finger herself with increasing urgency, he plunged forward and down—into volcanic, velvety depths that gushed and squirted around the shaft of his taut dong. The sound her succulent pussy made spurred him to an eruption of frantic, grinding thrusts that went as deep as he could drive himself into her receptive body. The massaging vibration that erupted from her steaming sex kept him going, as surely as if she’d been wearing Mexican rowels the size of gold double eagles, and raked his flanks like a south Texas cowgirl breaking a wild stallion.
Mattie arched her back to meet Longarm’s every thrust into the center of her being. She clawed her way down his back, latched onto steely buttocks like a sharp-clawed cat in heat, and tried to match his energetic pounding with an equal and vigorous upward lunge of her own. She let go of his pile-driving ass long enough to pull at her own nipples again, then closed her eyes in orgasmic ecstasy. After a minute or so, her eyes popped open. She pushed her boobs—reddened by her own pawing and pinching—up as high as she could and watched as he licked and sucked at nipples that took on the size of a man’s thumb from all the rough encouragement they’d endured.
Longarm drew his mouth away from the astonishing tips of Mattie’s tits with a lurid, sucking smack. She let out a wicked cackling laugh, bucked like a wild animal, threw her arms around his neck, and in a move that belied the petite girl’s size and strength, wrestled him onto his back. When she slid down his enormous love muscle, then bounced up and down on it like a crazed marionette controlled by some unseen, insane puppeteer hiding above them, her flashing eyes appeared to roll into the top of her skull. A rosy flush tinted her glistening shoulders and neck. Rivers of sweat cascaded down between jiggling breasts. Several times she leaned forward and smeared her steaming, wet nipples over his mouth and moaned when he sucked them.
After several minutes of a feverish assault, the sex-crazed girl hopped off his saber-hard tool, swung her legs around, sat on his face, and wiggled her well-formed ass. No doubt existed as to what she wanted and clearly expected. With a tongue like a magic wand, Longarm soon had her producing sounds like a box full of cute little baby piglets. But the squealing lasted only a short time. She latched onto his cock, ran a tongue of flame around his balls, then licked her way up and down the shaft. She got as much of it as possible into her mouth, then sucked like a thing possessed.
Eventually the overpowering urge to bring their carnal wrestling match to its logical climax overtook Longarm in a rush of urgent need. He pushed Mattie away, turned her back around, climbed between her flailing legs, plunged into her juicy sweetness again, and immediately emptied his entire being inside the girl’s scorching hot interior.
Exhausted from a long day’s events, Longarm rolled to one side and closed his eyes. Mattie Wayland’s still-glowing body was nestled in the crook of a tired arm. His last conscious memory of the night’s lusty tussle came when the stunning girl turned on her side and pushed her still overheated ass against his semirigid cock. He slipped inside her, then drifted into a deep, satisfying nap.
At some point during the night, the usually vigilant Longarm would later remember that he came partially awake and thought he heard Mattie Wayland stirring around the dark room. Anticipating nothing unusual in such typically female activity, he groaned, rolled onto his stomach, placed a feather pillow over his head to blot out the noise, and immediately went back to sleep.
Chapter 9
In spite of the fact that he’d closed the curtains the night before, the next morning’s blazing Texas sun sliced through the thin panels of material covering the El Paso Hotel’s windows. A knife edge of heavenly flame sliced across the carpet, crept up the side of the bed, then slapped Longarm across the face so hard his eyes popped open like the bullet-blasted hasp on a Wells Fargo strongbox.
He grunted, rolled onto his back, then flung an arm over his face in an effort to block out the brain-piercing light. All of a sudden, he realized how quiet the room seemed. He felt around the bed with his free hand, then sat bolt upright. Blazing daylight slapped him again and forced him to squint his way around the haze-filled room. It appeared that Mattie Wayland had vanished, like a wisp of musky smoke.
He leaned over the edge of the bed and searched the floor for her clothing—gone. Shoes—gone. Not a stitch of anything feminine to be seen anywhere. Then the realization of what had happened hit him like an anvil dropped from heaven’s front doorstep. He swung his legs off the bed, hopped up, and padded across the room.
A quick trip to the dressing table revealed that she’d emptied his wallet. The cash he’d carried there—gone. Still naked, he stood in the middle of the room, sc
ratched his head, then his crotch. He threw his head back, chuckled, and to no one in particular mumbled, “Shit. God Almighty, Custis. That hot-assed little gal done gone and rolled your silly behind. Now ain’t that a fuckin’ wonderment.”
By the time he’d got himself fully awake, refreshed, dressed, and ready for the coming day, Longarm had raked over every second of his time with Mattie Wayland the previous night. He stepped onto the El Paso Hotel’s shaded, rocking chair–covered veranda, jerked a nickel cheroot from his vest pocket, and lit it.
Within seconds, a grinning Willard Allred hobbled up. He touched the brim of his hat and nodded. “Mornin’, Marshal Long. Hope you had a good evenin’ and a damn fine night.”
Longarm blew a smoke ring toward heaven, arched an eyebrow in Allred’s direction, then said, “Well, my evenin’ started out pretty good, Willard. Hell, actually started out great, what with our very cordial drink and all. Unfortunately my first night of rest and recuperation in the Gateway to the West eventually resulted in a set of rather surprising and unpleasant circumstances.”
A puzzled look flitted across Allred’s bedraggled face. He scratched a stubble-covered chin that hadn’t seen a straight razor in weeks, then said, “Uh, last night didn’t work out too well after we parted, I take it.”
Longarm gazed at the street as though he didn’t see any of the people, horses, wagons, dogs, or constant movement that raised a thick, hazy curtain of dust between the hotel and the White Elephant Saloon. He puffed at the cheroot. “Well, that’s actually a bit of a fuckin’ understatement, Willard. Damned good-lookin’ little gal I took up with in the Elephant’s restaurant went and bilked me outta all the cash I had in my wallet. Fortunately, she was either in too big a hurry or wasn’t smart enough to get into the wardrobe and go through my possibles bag. Never carry much real money on my person, ’less it can’t be avoided. As a consequence, thank God, she didn’t get much.”