by Jake Logan
He glanced over at her. “You regretting all this business?”
With a toss of her wheat-colored hair, she looked at him with a hard set in her blue eyes. “I’m impatient to find my husband’s killer.”
“I understand.” He glanced away, after seeing the turmoil churning inside her in search of revenge—some sort of retribution for what the killer had done to her.
“I’m grateful you agreed to help me. But I worry I have been distracted too much coming out here while the killer is free—”
Slocum turned and clapped his left hand on her shoulder. “We’ll find him.”
She dropped her gaze to her boot toes. “I know. I need to rein in my impatience.”
“I need to write a letter to my boss, so I’ll need my room for a short while.”
“No problem. Vasquez likes my help. I’ll go and assist him.”
“You must’ve got up early?” he said, realizing she’d helped make breakfast.
“No problem.”
“You’re a guest here.”
“Working doesn’t hurt me.”
“I wasn’t worrying about you. I was worrying how it might spoil Vasquez.”
They both laughed and parted.
Dear Butch and Tom,
Your move to winter the herd up here looks like it will work out as profitable as you two planned. The cattle will be driven to Rawlings in a week, weighed, and loaded on cars there. Arrangements will be made to transfer the money from the sale to your bank in Austin. Since I am leaving this week, I will have all the arrangements made. Neal Guthrie will be in charge. I have known this buyer Hap Brehnam for several years and he is reputable.
Neal and Vasquez will bring the things you specified back to Texas as well as the cowboys that want to go along. I included them since there is not any employment in Wyoming for them and they have been hardworking and loyal.
We discussed early on, in the event I needed to leave here for personal reasons, that I would turn things over to Neal. So since this deal is about to close down successfully and I have some pressing personal business elsewhere at this time, I’ll put him in charge.
After the sale is completed, Neal will telegraph you the details.
Been nice working for you. I’ll drop by Austin later and settle up with you two.
Slocum
He put the letter in an envelope, sealed it, and addressed it to them. He’d mail it when he and Belle got to Rawlings.
Texas. He would soon be headed back there, and in the company of an attractive woman. He rubbed the whisker bristles around his mouth with his fingertips. A bath and shave might not hurt. He took his change of clothes and towel to where the sheep-herder showers were set up. Three water barrels were set up head high on a rack and warmed by the sun. A rope hung down from under each one, and pulling on it let the water loose to shower down on the bather. Release it, and it sprang the spigot shut until a user needed more.
He was naked, and the wind swept his skin and made him think twice about doing this so early in the day. He took a deep breath, and the first shower of water felt like ice. Wet, he released the rope and began to lather up.
“Is it warm?” Belle asked.
He started at her words and whirled around. “No!”
She smiled, unbuttoning her shirt. “Go on. I’m not looking. But thanks, Vasquez said I could use one of those showers.”
With his back to her while he soaped up, he laughed. “Hell, you didn’t need his permission.”
“I thought I better ask.”
He started to turn around, and then thought better of it. Might have been nice to see her in the buff, but that too could wait. Finished lathering himself, he took in his breath for the rinse. Whew!
Her scream forced him to turn. Water was pouring over her head and her body, her pear-shaped breasts dancing to the high knee movements of her snowy legs. “It’s really c-cold.”
“Too cold,” he agreed, turning his back to her and reaching for his towel. She looked even better undressed than he’d thought.
“Oh,” she said, sounding shivering cold. “I was looking for a warm bath. This is like wintertime. Oh, my. Vasquez said the sun warmed it.”
“Usually does. The boys must have refilled it last night. That’s straight from the windmill.” He hung the towel on the peg and began to dress.
“You didn’t mind me being so bold?”
He shot a glance at her bent over under a coating of white foam. Was she testing him?
“No.”
“I thought I’d better do this while the hands were out working.”
“Fine.”
“You have no wife? Family?”
“No one but me.” He pulled on his canvas pants and put up his galluses.
“I see.”
She pulled the rope and screamed under the splash of the shower. He picked up the flour-sack towel and stood outside the ring of slatted boards. When he held the towel out to dry her, she blinked, then nodded and twisted away for him to start on her back.
Wrapping her arms around herself, she trembled with the cold as he wiped her back dry and studied her shapely bare butt. Her long thighs led to two shapely legs, and her bare feet shuffled to try and gain some warmth. When she turned, she took the towel from him and covered her breasts.
“I think I am getting over you selling that mare.”
“No big deal, and it happened a long time ago.”
“You forgot. I never did.”
“Shame we’ve missed so much fun over that.”
She shook her head. “No, I had my husband picked out even then. He was what every Texas ranch girl wanted. Blue eyed, blond, handsome. A man’s man. He could rope or ride better than anyone I knew.”
“Shame you lost him.”
“Worse than that. They took him from me.”
He nodded and started for his socks and boots. “You know killing him won’t bring your husband back either.”
“I know. I know. But I’ll know I did all I could.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“If you don’t approve of me killing him, why are you going with me?”
“Kind of a debt. I owed your pappy for all the things he did for me. Plus I owe you for selling the mare.” Socks on, he pulled on his boots and tried not to look over at her.
“Yes, you sure do.” She shook her head and buttoned up. The pin-striped shirt covered all but the pink bottoms of her butt. Lots of woman there, and she aroused him. More than he let on to her. He thought of the image of her riding up Lincoln Avenue on the gray horse and coming into his life—them getting together must be in life’s plans. He’d see.
4
They left Rawlings on the 3:18 for Cheyenne. The chugchug of the engine starting out soon became the clack, clack of the rails under the passenger car wheels as they sped at twenty-five miles an hour eastward. With the cattle deal closed with Hap and the roundup under way at the headquarters, he’d left the rest for Neal to deal with.
“We’ll be in Cheyenne past noon tomorrow,” Belle said.
Now dressed in his suit, Slocum set down the newspaper he held in both hands. “Yes, I think that’s the schedule. You glad to be back on track?”
“Yes. May I lean on you?”
“Of course.”
“I didn’t want to embarrass you.”
He lowered his voice. “It might go smoother anyway if we acted as husband and wife from here on.”
“Mrs. Slocum?”
He shook his head. “Mrs. Tom White.”
“Why, Tom, darling,” she drawled, and fiddled with his lapel. “I think that would be wonderful.”
He did too. They both laughed.
In Cheyenne the next day, they registered as the Whites in the Place Hotel. Slocum went to see about a saddle horse and another packhorse, plus some camping gear. He returned to their room close to supper time, and she stood up to greet him wearing a blue dress.
“That looks nice,” he said, setting his hat down on the bur
eau and admiring her.
“I didn’t want to embarrass my husband.” She walked over and embraced him. With her cheek on his shoulder, he rocked her back and forth. “At times I get so upset thinking about how this turned out. Not about you, no, you’re an angel. I mean my life—I had everything I ever wanted—then they ruined it. Hold me and I’ll try not to cry.
“Oh—” She sniffed. “There was this preacher back where I grew up. Stupid little man who was supposed to be comforting me, I think, and tried to rape me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Guess I’ve been on edge around men ever since.”
Her light lilac perfume wafting up his nose, he raised her chin with the side of his hand and kissed her softly on the mouth. Her palms slid over his suit and around his neck. They kissed harder, until they came apart and tried to catch their breath.
“We better go eat,” he said, and turned her toward the door.
With half-closed eyes, she smiled up at him. “Why, Tom, do you think I’d never let you out of this room if we dillydallied for very long?”
“No, I’d keep you here till hell froze over.” He opened the door.
“Sounds interesting.”
He swatted her fanny with his palm and sent her out into the hall. “It will be.”
They walked to the Peacock Restaurant in the last rays of sundown. The maitre d’ showed them to a secluded table and gave them menus in fancy script. The flickering lights danced on her frowning face. Slocum grinned at her. “You can’t read it. Every bit’s in French.”
Amused, she put it down as a waiter filled their glasses with water and promised them Rogain, the restaurant’s owner, would be right there.
“So what do we eat?” she asked Slocum.
“Whatever Rogain says is good.”
“Fine.” She folded her hands on the table and made a knowing face at him. “How long will it take?”
“The meal?”
“Yes.”
He reached over and squeezed her hands. “I’m not certain. But I’ll make certain they hurry.”
“Good,” she said in a whisper as Rogain arrived in his tuxedo.
“Ah, Monsieur. What may I do for you and the lovely lady?”
“You have some slow-cooked lamb ready?”
“Indeed we do.”
“Bring us a rack of that, some red wine, and some of your sourdough bread and butter.”
“Wonderful. Coming right up.” The man acted as if he understood their haste and left them.
She wet her lower lip with the tip of her tongue. “I’ll try to show some restraint.”
“Not too much.”
After the mouth-watering, smoky-tasting, tender ribs became a pile of white bones, and the crusty bread and butter were nearly gone, they toasted each other with the last of the wine. He paid Rogain and they slipped out on the street. Under the streetlight he spotted the two riders and the blanket-butt Appaloosa coming up their way, and gently pushed her in to the dark doorway and kissed her.
“My, my,” she said. “You are excited.”
“I have some problems. They just rode by. Get our things from the hotel room and meet me in the alley. Here’s the money to pay the clerk. Say we’ve been called away by a death.”
“What’ll you do?”
“Get the horses and things I have for us to take along and meet you in the alley in less than an hour.”
“Who are they?” she hissed.
“Abbott brothers from Kansas. Deputy sheriffs. It’s a long story. I can tell you going back.”
He pulled her to him and kissed her. “Any questions?”
“No, but you aren’t getting away, remember?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
An hour later, they crossed the tracks and headed south in a long trot under the stars. With two packhorses in tow, Belle was on the gray and he was riding the big bay he’d bought. At dawn they found water in a creek, hobbled the horses away from the main road, and ate some jerky to keep from building a fire. Seated on his spread-out bedroll, he wished the Abbott brothers in hell for the twentieth time since he’d seen them in Cheyenne and they’d ruined his special evening with her.
“Why are they after you?”
“Years ago, a young man lost some money at cards. He was too drunk to really play, but he insisted. So when he lost, he got belligerent, accused me of cheating, and went for a gun. He ended up dead. His family is very prominent there and his grandfather has lots of money. I left Fort Scott and he’s sicced those two brothers after me ever since then.”
“But justice—self-defense?”
He shook his head. “They own the judge and jury.”
“How did you know it was them in Cheyenne?”
“Louis always rides that Ap horse with the moon spots on his blanket.”
She looked at the azure sky over them for help. Then, on her knees, she scooted over to him and looked in his face. “They can’t find us here for a while, can they?”
With a grin, he shook his head. “This ain’t a feather bed.”
“Well, no feather bed,” she said, then wrinkled her nose, spilled down on the bedroll, and began pulling off her boots.
He rose and toed his own boots off. Then he undid his gun belt and took off his hat, suit coat, pants, and shirt. When he turned, she was under the top blanket and had pulled it up to cover her breasts.
“No shame at all,” she said, shaking her head at him, and held the blanket up for him to join her.
He slipped in, lay down beside her, then rolled over and kissed her mouth. His left hand molded her pear-shaped breast. She pulled him to her with a maddening hug. Her hot tongue slipped past his teeth and sought his mouth. Eager fingers began groping at the rock-hard muscle cords across his belly, then soon combed his stiff public hair, and her palm began stroking the half-hard erection as she inched over toward him.
His hand slipped between her parted legs, and he rubbed the crease until she raised her butt off the bedroll and thrust it at him. Then his finger sought her ring. Under his index finger’s teasing, her clit rose and she began to moan in the arms of passion.
Wild with his needs, he eased himself on top of her, fitting between her silky legs. Her breathing was hard and fast, and she squirmed with an urgency to have him. Every nerve ending in his erection pleaded to be inside her. His butt filled with the need to pump his hard shaft into her. His entry drew a sharp cry and she clutched him tight.
On a storm-tossed sea, they fought the battle for finality. His rise and fall was like high waves slapping the side of a boat. Their pubic bones smashed tight, grinding the coarse hair between them. Her back arched thrusting her against him each time. Then, from the depths came the warning cramp and he pressed hard and deep inside her. Her legs, wrapped around him, tightened in preparation for the explosion that filled her.
Then she slipped off into a faint and her eyelids closed. He braced himself above her and smiled. Finally, she half-opened them and grinned at him. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
“I didn’t know how much I missed doing it—it’s been over three weeks.”
“Long enough. But we better head for Texas if we’re ever going to get there.”
“The superintendent and the hussy,” she said, and laughed as he straightened.
“I’m sure not the superintendent anymore, and I certainly won’t call you a hussy.”
“I guess there’s some guilt in my mind. Him not cold in his grave and I’m making love to you.” She reached over, picked her shirt up, and started to put her arms into it.
“You don’t need to have any guilt. We aren’t hurting anyone.” He glanced down at the pear-shaped breasts before they disappeared. She was sure some woman; it was a shame that misinformed bounty hunters had destroyed her life. He dressed and then loaded the horses. They had dry cheese and crackers, with a promise to each other to have better food at their next encampment.
In the next few days, they swung east to avo
id Denver, moving southward. He was anxious not to leave a trail for the Abbott brothers. So in a week they were descending off the Sangre de Cristos into New Mexico.
“We need to get the shoes reset on our saddle horses,” he said, viewing the low set of buildings. She nodded as they sat in the saddle stirrup to stirrup, looking through the heat waves at the village.
“You know this place?” she asked.
“Campo. I know a man who lives near here, or he did. I’m sure we can stay with him if he still lives here.”
“Does he have water enough for a bath?”
Slocum laughed. “Oh, you want a bath?”
With a quick nod of her head, she smiled. “Yes.”
“Well. Lets see if Campo del Norte has enough water for that.”
“There are times you tease me and I am never certain what you really mean.”
He reached over and patted her leg. “There will be a place to bathe there.”
“Good.” She checked the impatient gray. “It might take a hard soaking to get me clean.”
He agreed and they moved out.
Curs rushed out to bark at them. Several Mexican women looked at them, while hanging wash or working under a ramada, to see who had arrived. Near-naked brown children with dark eyes left their games and in silence lined up to see the two pass by. Slocum reined up at the cantina, dismounted, and handed her the reins.
“I’ll see if my friend still lives near here.”
The cantina was empty at midday save for the short Mexican bartender. “Ah, Señor. What will you have?”
“I look for an amigo. Don Jeminez. He still live around here?”
“Ah, he lives at Rancho de Vaca.”
“How far is that?”
“East about quatro kilómetros.” He pointed to the back of the bar.
“Is it hard to find?”
“No, you follow the road and you will find it.”
The man smiled, made a swipe with a rag at the polished bar top. “Where do you know that old mule rider from?”
“Buffalo hunting ten years ago.”
“Yes, he hunted many seasons till they were gone.”
“He rode a mule back then too,” Slocum said, thanked the man, and left.