by Jake Logan
“How horrible,” Stacey said. She looked stunned. And she was.
“He did it to me over and over. I was in shock. I couldn’t believe all that was happening to me. I thought I had to be dreaming a bad dream.”
“But you weren’t, were you?”
“No, it was all too real.”
“Then what happened, Ma? Didn’t Wolf want to marry you?”
Clara took a deep breath. She set her cup back down in its saucer and sighed.
“No, Wolf did not want to marry me. He hated me for picking Hans to be my husband instead of him. He said he’d never marry me and that I would never marry another man as long as he lived. He made me go with him, and he left town and began his outlaw life. I had to tag along, and he had his way with me whenever he pleased, but there was no man to satisfy my longing to be loved and cared for. When you girls were born, he made Faron act as father to you, but told him if he ever so much as touched me, he’d kill him.”
“So we grew up thinking that Faron was our father,” Stacey said, “when Wolf was our real father.”
“That’s the way Wolf wanted it. I felt sorry for Faron, but he’s a spineless weakling. I kept hoping someone would come along and save me from my fate. I wanted a champion to take up my cause and wipe out all the ugliness and torment in my life.”
“But nobody ever came,” Stacey said in a dull tone of voice. She sat there in shock, buried under the weight of this new knowledge.
“No one, until I saw John Slocum,” Clara said.
“Slocum is your champion?”
“He might be. The minute I saw him, I knew he was the one I had been waiting for.”
“Yet you gave him to me and Lacey.”
“My gift to both of you. I know I’m not young and pretty anymore, and I just wanted to live a dream through you and your sister.”
“My God, Ma, I can’t believe you. You’re still young and pretty. I think Mr. Slocum would want you.”
“Hmm,” Clara said, “I wonder. I could be pretty again if I wanted to. But I think most of my life has passed by. I just want to believe that there is a good man around and Slocum is my idea of that good man.”
“But he’s a gunfighter, Ma. Just like Wolf and his henchmen.”
“But for good, Stacey, for good. Not evil, like Wolf. Wolf made me do things, not only to myself, but to you and Lacey.”
“I know,” Stacey said. She looked and felt sad.
“He said he’d have me arrested for the murder of his brother if I didn’t do everything he asked. He’d tell the sheriff he actually saw me kill Hans.” Clara sighed and got up from the couch. “I’ll be right back,” she said.
Stacey sat there and waited.
When Clara returned, she had her gun belt around her waist and her jacket under her arm.
“I’m going, Stacey. I hope I get back in one piece, but if I don’t, I want you to know I love you very much.”
“Don’t say that, Ma. You’ll be back.”
“I hope so. But if I’m not, make a good life for yourself, my sweet daughter.”
Clara embraced Stacey when she stood up. She kissed her on the cheek and patted her on the head.
“Good-bye, Ma,” Stacey said as her mother put on her coat and walked out the door.
“Good-bye, Stacey.”
Clara sighed with relief as she walked toward Abel Fogarty’s home the next street over from hers.
Then she would go to the saloon, and if Slocum wasn’t there, she’d try to see him at the hotel. And if she did not, she would go to Wolf’s and play out the rest of her hand. But it wasn’t a game, she knew. It was life or death. She was glad that she had told Stacey the whole story, had finally gotten to tell someone the truth of what had happened to her twenty years ago.
This, she told herself, was something she should have done a long time ago, long before they had all come to Durango.
Her daughters had been caught up in her life of crime, and one of them was dead. Now all she had was courage and determination.
The past was past. There was nothing she could do to change all that had happened. But if her hunch was right, there would be a future. She hoped and prayed that her hunch was right.
And as if Fate had answered her prayers, she saw someone emerge from Fogarty’s cabin. Someone she had not expected to see.
For coming out of the house, dressed all in black, was the man she had picked to be her champion.
“Good evening, John Slocum,” she said in an artificially merry voice.
“Is that you, Miss Morgan?” he asked as she drew near.
“Call me Clara, please,” she said.
“Clara, then. I just told your boss that his days were numbered, and if he was smart, he’d hightail it out of Durango before something bad happened to him.”
“He’s not my boss. I was coming here to tell him I had quit and that I would testify against him in a court of law when he was arrested.”
“Well, well, well,” Slocum said. “A woman after my own heart. And I see you’re dressed to ride out yourself.”
“I want to ride with you, Mr. Slocum.” She opened her coat so that he could see her cartridge belt and her pistol.
“My, my, will wonders never cease,” he said. “Will you take my arm? I think we have a lot to talk about before the night is over.”
“Yes, I think we do,” she said.
“My hotel?”
“Perfect,” she said as she slipped her arm inside his.
They walked, arm in arm, to the hotel like a couple off to do some spooning in the moonlight.
They both wore smiles on their lips.
23
Slocum picked up his room key from Jules, who was still rattled over the deadly disturbance in the hotel.
“There won’t be any more trouble here, will there?”
“I don’t expect any,” Slocum said. He ushered Clara down the hall to his room, number 6, and opened the door to let her in. He locked it after he had entered.
“Have a seat, Clara,” he said. “Make yourself comfortable. Drink?”
He walked to a lamp on the table, struck a match, lifted the chimney, and touched the lighted match to the wick. The room took on a soft peach glow that reached to their table.
“No thanks, John,” she said. “I need my wits about me.”
“Seems to me you’re never without them. How’s Stacey?”
“I told her the whole story about her and Lacey’s birth and who her father really is. I don’t think it has all sunk in yet. But she’s all right. Or seems to be.”
“Who is her father? Not Clemson?”
“No, not Faron. I might as well tell you the whole story, too, and tell where I’ve been all these years and where I am now.”
“I’m all ears,” he said. He took off his black hat, set it on the third chair.
Clara told him all about Wolf and his twin brother, Hans, what happened on her wedding night and the brutal hold Wolf had on her that had lasted for twenty years. She told her story in a rush and then sighed with relief that she had gotten it all out.
“But” she said, “I’m interested in what you told Abel Fogarty.”
“I told him that he had a short time to live if he stayed in town and filed forged documents on any mines where the owners were murdered by Wolf and his gang of cutthroats.”
“Good,” she said. “What did he say?”
“He turned as pale as a bowl of hominy grits and said he’d light out in the morning and close his office.”
“Do you think he will?” she asked.
“One of his balls is the size of a pea, and the other is a real itty-bitty one,” Slocum said with a curve of a smile on his lips.
Clara laughed.
“You’re all right, John Slocum. Do you know that?”
“Nope. I don’t judge myself much. I leave that to other people.”
She reached across the table with both hands. Slocum took them in his.
“You’re packing iron,” he said. “Were you going after Wolf by yourself?”
“If I couldn’t find you, I was,” she admitted. “I’ve been his prisoner all these years, and after Lacey died, I just knew I had to get away from him.”
“You were going to kill him?”
“Yes, unless I found you.”
“You wanted to find me?”
“Yes, I knew you were not afraid of a mean bastard like Wolf and I was going to side with you.”
Slocum chuckled. “Still, you’re pretty brave. What if you hadn’t run into me?”
“I—I’d have gone after Wolf and shot him dead. But I expected that I might die, too. Better that than living the way I have all these years.”
“You’re still a young woman, Clara. And still very attractive. You have a lot of life ahead.”
“I hope so,” she said. “Are you going after Wolf, then?”
“I am. He’s already gotten the message from two different men, so he’ll be looking over his shoulder from now on.”
“What was your message?”
“Leave town or die,” Slocum said.
She squeezed his hands then withdrew hers.
She looked long and earnestly at Slocum. She felt a quivering inside her stomach. He looked so strong and handsome up close and it was slightly unnerving to her. She hoped her feelings for him didn’t show. But he had told her that she was attractive. That could mean anything. He probably didn’t find her beautiful, but he seemed to like what she was made of, if nothing else.
She undid her bun and let her hair fall free and flowing over her back. There was a sheen to it in the soft glow from the lamp.
“You have pretty hair, Clara,” he said as she brushed out the few minor tangles.
“Do you think I’m pretty?” she asked, and managed a wan smile.
“I think you’re a very beautiful woman. Strong, honest, courageous, and with an inner strength that shows on your face. I like that in a woman. All those qualities, I mean.”
“You’re very kind.”
“You’ve found yourself, Clara. You’re not the same woman I saw in Fogarty’s office. That was an actress playing a part. The real you is much more natural and beautiful.”
“You seem to know more about me than I do myself,” she said. “Maybe you know more about women than the average man.”
He laughed. “I don’t know about that. But I read people by looking at their faces and their actions. You have good qualities that have been hidden for a long time. No woman should have to go through what you did. Wolf’s a heartless bastard to do what he did to you. He’s a man who likes to see people suffer.”
“Yes, he is. I hate him,” she said. “I’ve hated him for a long, long time.”
“Hate is a killer itself,” he said. “It never gets you anywhere. You’ll do well to give up your hate.”
“How do I do that?” she asked.
“Find something or someone to love. That will take away the hate and give you back your senses.”
She sighed and became thoughtful for a few seconds. What Slocum said made sense to her for some strange reason. Hate was an ugly thing. It had twisted her up inside and clouded her reason. It had blinded her to other possibilities in her life. Now she felt as if Slocum had drenched her in a cool gust of fresh air. Her mind was clearing and she could look not only back at her life, but ahead, to a better one.
“I like that idea,” she said. “But Wolf is still there in my thoughts.”
“He’s no longer in your life, though, is he?”
She shook her head. “No, that’s true. I’ve broken with him, whether he’s dead or alive.”
“That’s part of your strength now, Clara.”
She unbuttoned her coat and removed it. Slocum looked at her. Her shirt was unbuttoned and he could see part of her chest, the tiny brown freckles between her breasts. He felt a tug at his loins, a stirring in his groin.
Clara was more than an attractive woman, he thought. She had a grace that made her beautiful, desirable even.
She reached up to button her blouse.
“No, don’t,” he said.
“But the button’s loose, John.”
“Don’t hide your beauty, Clara,” he said with a smile.
She beamed back at him. “Why, John, I’m beginning to think you mean to seduce me.”
“If I’m allowed,” he said. “I’d like to seduce you.”
She blushed and her face took on a rosy hue. She smiled coyly at him.
“You are starting to make my heart flutter,” she said, her voice soft and low. “Flutter like crazy.”
“The night is young,” he said. “Like you. Young and sweet.”
He stood up. Clara stood up, too. They came together, and he embraced her.
She tilted her head up, and he bent his neck to kiss her.
She was warm and willing. The kiss told it all. She quivered in his embrace, and he knew that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
“Mmm,” she moaned, and the kiss between them was long and lingering, full of promise, sweet with the taste.
He guided her to the bed as she unbuckled her gun belt.
“Now?” she said.
“If you want me.”
“I want you, John. Oh, I want you so much.”
“I want you, too, Clara.”
He loosened his gun belt, rebuckled it, and hung it on the poster near his pillow. The two undressed as if they were burning up with the heat of their clothing.
She pulled the coverlet from the two pillows, and he gazed on her nakedness before he climbed into bed to lie beside her.
They embraced and clung to each other.
“Do you know how much I dreamed of this?” she asked.
“You’ve been cheated all these years,” he said.
“I feel like a virgin. What Wolf did to me was not love, not loving. It was brutal and savage and . . .”
He put two fingers against her lips.
“Hush,” he said. “That’s all water over the dam. It’s past. This is now, this moment, and we both have it.”
“Yes, yes, we do,” she said, and wrapped her arms around his neck. They kissed and then one of her hands squeezed the upper part of his leg. As if she were reassuring herself that he was real.
He stroked her breasts, gently rubbing his hand over their contours, as if he were a sculptor shaping a piece of soft clay.
She writhed with pleasure.
“Mm,” she murmured. “Feels good. So good.”
She bent her body to reach down and explore his groin. She grasped his tautening stalk and stroked it before her fingers closed around it. He grew harder with her touch.
“I—I’ve never done anything like this before,” she whispered. “I feel so brazen all of a sudden.”
“The woman you are is coming back out,” he said. “This was what you were meant to do, Clara.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet of you to say that.”
She squeezed his cock and he felt its veins engorge with blood. Like a jackknife, his prick opened fully and she stroked the smooth crown with the tip of her finger.
“You’re such a man,” she breathed.
He kissed both nipples, then slipped his hand between her legs. She pulled them wider apart and he stroked her pussy, parting the lips. He probed inside with a finger and felt her juices flow, warm and wet as sun-warmed dew.
“Ah,” she sighed, and he found her clitoris and stroked it until her entire body quivered and spasmed.
She cried out and squeezed his organ as if to pull him inside her.
He withdrew hi
s finger from her warm wet cunt.
“Ready?” he asked.
“More than ready. Oh, John, thank you for this. I’m so grateful.”
“I am, too, Clara. I want to pleasure you. I can’t make up for all those years, but I can give you back some of what you missed.”
“Oh, yes, you can, John. You can.”
He mounted her and slid into her as she guided him through the portals of her sex, past the thatch of brown wiry hair and into the soft pudding of her pussy.
He plumbed her depths, and she responded with upward thrusts of her hips until they were in perfect rhythm. She undulated her hips as he pushed into her and he matched her every move with moves of his own.
Her body bucked and thrashed as she climaxed, and she swallowed the scream that issued unbidden from her throat.
Again and again she climaxed, and each time her spasms were more violent than before.
“Now, now,” she purred as he increased the speed of his strokes. “I want your seed. All of it.”
“I hope you’re not in heat,” he said half-jokingly.
“With you, I am,” she said, and clung to him. Her fingernails dug into his back, but did not break the skin.
He felt the surge of energy, the rush of sperm that coursed like a mad flood up the pipe of his cock, and then he spilled his milk deep into her womb. He floated high above her on a white cloud of mindlessness that was fleeting and could never be recaptured.
Clara floated up there with him.
A blissful peacefulness filled her mind. Contentment flooded her being, and she clung to him in a state of pure rapture.
“We may never leave to go after Wolf,” he said.
“I don’t care. I no longer know who Wolf is. He’s out of my life and forgotten.”
But he knew that Wolf was not gone, and as long as he was in town, he was dangerous to both of them.
He wanted to lie with her and take her again.
But while Clara might have forgotten Wolf, he had not.
He steeled himself for what he had to do. He had to get up and get dressed and leave Clara or take her with him.
Either Wolf had left town by now, or he was waiting for Slocum to show up.