“How long?” the man asked.
“Until the Graves boys have come and gone,” Commons said.
They walked away from the livery, heading toward the center of town.
“Now what?” Wilkes asked.
“Sheriff’s office,” Commons said. “Clint Adams should have someplace for us to stay.”
“Maybe even an advance on our pay,” Wilkes said.
“Don’t go getting in trouble, Wilkes.”
“I won’t,” the other man said, “not yet anyway.”
TWENTY-FOUR
Later in the day Clint was in the office with Buck, Minnesota, Commons, Wilkes, and the Prescott brothers.
“This is it?” Commons asked. “Just the six of us?”
“So far,” Clint said.
“How many men we facin’?” Wilkes asked.
“We’re not sure,” Clint said. “We know there’s four or five brothers, and a bunch of cousins. They’ll also have other gang members.”
“So a dozen, or more?” Commons asked.
“Maybe.”
“Buck told us you ain’t gonna stop lookin’ for men,” Harley Prescott said.
“I’m not,” Clint said, “but starting today we’ll all have jobs to do.”
“Like what?” Wilkes asked.
“Somebody will be on watch at all times. If you see a gang of men approaching town, you’ll sound the alarm.”
“Then what will we do?” James Prescott asked.
“We’re going to work that out,” Clint said. “I’ll come up with a schedule, and we’ll all have jobs. We’ll rotate, too, so nobody does the same job day after day until the Graves gang gets here.”
“Okay,” Commons asked, “so what’re our jobs?”
“I’ll let you know later this evening,” Clint said. “I’m going to work it all out. Meanwhile, get yourselves scheduled, get yourselves armed. Wilkes, get yourself a gun.”
“I don’t use a gun,” Wilkes said.
“You own a rifle?”
“No.”
“We’ll get you one,” Clint said. “You’re not going to be able to use a knife, or your hands, when the Graves gang rides in.”
“I don’t use—”
“We’ll get him a rifle,” Commons said.
Wilkes looked at his partner, who just shook his head. The big man subsided.
“You boys make sure your guns are cleaned and in proper working order,” Clint told the Prescotts. “Buck tells me you can shoot. I’ll have to trust him.”
“We can shoot,” Harley Prescott said. “Rifles better than pistols, though.”
“That’s okay,” Clint said. “My guess is we’ll be doing a lot of rifle work when the time comes.”
Clint was sitting on the edge of his desk while he talked. Now he stood up.
“That’s all,” Clint said. “Come back here tonight at seven, after you’ve all had supper.”
“Suits me,” Wilkes said. “I’m hungry now.”
“Listen up,” Clint said as the new recruits headed for the door.
They all stopped and turned.
“Prescotts, you fellas have your rooms already. Commons and Wilkes, I got you rooms at the hotel. But as far as meals go, you pay your way, understand? No free rides just because you’re working for me.”
“Sure, Sheriff,” Harley said.
“No problem,” James said.
Clint looked at Commons and Wilkes.
“Okay,” Commons said.
Wilkes didn’t say anything.
“Wilkes?” Clint said.
“Yeah,” Wilkes said, “yeah, okay. No free rides. Can we go now?”
“You can go,” Clint said. “Wilkes, if you want a gun, I will get you one for free. That okay with you?”
“That’s fine,” Wilkes said.
“Okay, then,” Clint said. “See you all at seven.”
The four recruits left. Clint turned to Buck and Minnesota. “That okay with you fellas?”
“Sure, Sheriff,” Buck said.
“Minnesota?”
“Strikes me you still ain’t seen me shoot, Sheriff,” Minnesota said.
“I have a feeling you’ll hold your own,” Clint said.
“That’s so?”
“If we have a chance, though,” Clint said, “I’ll watch you shoot. In fact, I can watch all of you shoot. I’ll try to work it out.”
“Good,” Minnesota said. “I’d like to see those Prescott boys shoot.”
“And I’d like to see Commons and Wilkes shoot,” Buck said.
“Wilkes usually likes to use his hands, or a knife,” Minnesota said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him fire a gun.”
“That’s okay,” Clint said. “By the time the Graves gang gets here, he can learn.”
Before any of them could say another word, the door to the office opened and Lucy Dennison came in.
“Oh, Sheriff,” she said, “am I interrupting?”
“Not at all, Mrs. Dennison,” Clint said. “Boys, I’ll see you later.”
“Sure, Sheriff,” Minnesota said. “Come on, Buck, I’ll buy you a drink.”
The two deputies left.
TWENTY-FIVE
“What can I do for you, Mrs. Dennison?” Clint asked.
“I thought we settled on you calling me Lucy?” she said.
“Oh, right,” he said. “Lucy.”
“I think you promised me some supper last time we talked, and I haven’t heard from you at all.”
“Well, I’m, sorry, Lucy, but I have been a little busy. I’ve been meaning to come and see you.”
“So I saved you the trouble,” she said. “I’ve come to see you.”
“It’s a little early for supper,” he said, “but I can meet you later—”
“No, no,” she said, “that’s not good enough. You’ll promise to come and see me, and then you’ll get busy again.”
“Well, my job—”
“You’re not doing anything right now, are you?” she asked.
“Um, not at this exact moment, no . . .” he said.
“So, there’s no time like the present.”
“For supper?”
“No,” she said. She walked to the door, pulled the shade down over the window, and then locked the door. “Not supper.” She turned to face him, her back to the door. She was wearing a skirt and a shirt, and she slowly unbuttoned the shirt and peeled it off. Underneath was a frilly black top.
“Lucy—”
“I think we should just skip the supper and get right to something else.”
She undid her skirt and let it drop to the floor. Now all she was wearing was some black lace.
“I knew we’d end up like this the moment you walked into the Town Council meeting,” she said. “I swore all the men in that room would be able to smell me, because I got so excited I became wet. But since they’re all dried-up politicians, they didn’t sense it. But you did, didn’t you?”
“Well, uh—” He really hadn’t, but he sure was sensing it now, wasn’t he?
“Come here, Sheriff Adams,” she said, crooking her finger at him. “Let’s get better acquainted.”
Buck and Minnesota went to the Red Queen Saloon and ordered a couple of beers.
“Who was the woman?” Minnesota asked.
“Mrs. Dennison,” Buck said. “Her husband was on the Town Council until he died. Now she took his place.”
“A woman on the Council?”
“I know,” Buck said, “the men on the Council don’t like it, but they have to wait for her husband’s term to be over to get rid of her.”
“Well, sure didn’t look like the sheriff wanted to get rid of her, did it?”
“That lady?” Buck asked. “She’s a little old, ain’t she?”
“Son,” Minnesota said, even though Buck was older, “ain’t you ever been with an older woman?”
“Um, well, no . . .”
“Well,” Minnesota said. “There ain’t nothin’ like bein
’ with an experienced woman—that is, ’less you’re with a big woman.”
“Big woman?”
“Big teats, big hips,” Minnesota said dreamily. “Nothin’ like ’em. In fact, I think I’m gonna finish this beer and head over to Miss Jean’s.”
“The whorehouse?”
“Ain’t you ever been there?”
“Um, no.”
“Aw, come on, son,” Minnesota said. “Drink up and I’ll take you over there. We got nothin’ to do ’til supper anyway.”
“Well . . . okay.”
“Drink up,” Minnesota said, slapping Buck on the back. “You’re gonna love it!”
“Lucy,” Clint said, “you’re a beautiful woman, but this isn’t the time or place—”
“Don’t tell me that,” she said, staring down at his crotch. “You can’t tell me you’re not excited at the prospect of having sex in jail.”
“In jail?”
“In one of your cells,” she said.
“Lucy—”
“This ties in the back,” she said, stepping away from the door and reaching behind her. “All I have to do is pull and . . . oops.”
TWENTY-SIX
Frank Graves flexed his right leg again and again, flinching at the pain. He was sitting in a wooden chair in front of the hotel.
“How’s it feel?” Dudley asked, coming out the door.
“Better,” Frank said.
“Ready to ride?”
“A couple more days,” Frank said. “Let everybody know. Two days.”
“And then two days’ ride to Guardian,” Dudley said. “So in four days we burn that town to the ground.”
“After we hit the bank.”
“Why do the rest of you go through your money so fast?” the big man asked.
“Because we spend it on more than whores,” Frank said.
“Speaking of which,” Dudley said, “the kid’s over at the whorehouse again.”
“That can’t be,” Frank said. “He got no money left. He spent it all.”
“I loaned him some.”
“What for?”
“He’s a new man, Frank,” Dudley said. “Them whores love him.”
“Why?”
“Beats me,” Dudley said. “I think it’s because he’s so young.”
“That must be it,” Frank said. “You find Del?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, what the hell—”
“You know Del,” Dudley said.
“Yeah, I know him,” Frank said, “and I want you to make sure he’s not in jail, or in any kind of trouble.”
“Why me?”
“Because you know how to handle him,” Frank said. “You’re the big brother.”
“Oh, now I’m the big brother?” Dudley said. “I thought you were in charge.”
“I am in charge,” Frank said. “That’s why I’m tellin’ you to find Del, and if he’s in trouble, you get him out. We need him for this job.”
“Okay,” Dudley said. “I’ll go get ’im.”
“And haul that kid out of the whorehouse,” Frank said. “He’s gonna wear it down to the nub.”
“Ha,” Dudley said. “He probably started out that way.”
When the Prescotts left the sheriff’s office, Wilkes asked them which was the best saloon in town.
“The Dust Cutter,” Harley said.
“That’s where we’re goin’ now,” James said.
“I’ll tag along,” Wilkes said. “What about you, Commons?”
“Sure, why not?” Commons said. “I don’t know anybody else in town. But remember, the sheriff said to stay out of trouble.”
“And I told him I would.”
When they got to the saloon, they went right to the bar and ordered four beers.
Wilkes turned with a mug in his hand and looked at the girls working the floor.
“Look, Commons, a real saloon with real girls,” Wilkes said.
“Real saloon girls are what get you into trouble, Wilkes,” Commons said. “Just drink your beer, look at them, and be satisfied with that.”
“He likes girls?” Harley asked.
“Saloon girls?” James asked.
“He likes girls, but he don’t know what to do with them,” Commons said, keeping his voice low. “Then he gets mad, and he gets into fights.”
“He’s a pretty big guy,” James said.
“Yeah,” Commons said, “runs about six-four, and he’s pretty strong. In fact, he’s the strongest man I ever met.”
“You know,” Harley said, “I hear Dudley Graves is pretty strong.”
“One of them Graves boy?” Commons asked.
“The oldest one.”
“So you know these fellas who rob banks and shoot sheriffs?”
“We heard of ’em,” James said. “But we don’t know ’em.”
“Not personally,” Harley said.
“Well, I’ll bet Wilkes is stronger than Dudley Graves,” Commons said.
“You and him been friends a long time?” Harley asked.
“Oh, we ain’t friends,” Commons said. “We just work together.”
“Oh,” James said.
“I got better taste than to be friends with him,” Commons said, and turned to lean on the bar.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Lucy stood in front of the locked door, totally naked. She took Clint’s breath away. He never would have expected her body to look like that. Heavy breasts—the way he had come to like them—pale, smooth skin, a pubic thatch that was black and bushy—something else he liked.
“One of us is overdressed,” she said.
Clint undid his gun belt and put it on the desk, then undressed, beginning with his boots. When he was naked, he turned to face Lucy, who caught her breath.
“Oh, my . . .” she said.
He walked to her and took her in his arms, trapping his hard column of flesh between them. As they kissed, he slid his hands around to cup her buttocks and they began to grind their crotches together.
He lifted her breasts, cupping them in his hands, and kissed her nipples, eliciting a slight moan from her. Then he slid one hand down between her legs, probed into that bushy patch, and found her wet.
“Oh, God,” she said as he slid one fingertip along her moist slit. “My legs . . . are weak . . . please . . .”
Abruptly, he lifted her in his arms, turned, and carried her into the cell block. He chose one of the open cells, entered, and set her down on a cot. He slid one hand down her belly and back into her crotch, rubbing her nipples with the other hand. She reached out, took his cock in her hand, and stroked it.
“So this is what it’s like to be in jail,” she said.
He chuckled, said, “Not quite,” and kissed her.
Miss Jean said to Minnesota, “Who’s your friend? Oh, wait, the deputy—”
“Yeah, we’re both deputies,” Minnesota said, “but don’t worry, we’re payin’ our way.”
“Does your friend want to see the girls—”
“I’ll pick for both of us,” Minnesota said. “Elspeth for him. I’ll take Louise.”
“Wait in the sitting room,” she said. “I’ll get them ready for you.”
Minnesota and Buck walked into the sitting room. There were a few other men, and half a dozen women walking around wearing next to nothing. Buck’s eyes popped.
“You ain’t gonna tell me you never been here,” Minnesota said.
“N-Not as a customer,” Buck said.
“Well, son, you’re in for a treat.”
“Who’s Elspeth?” Buck asked.
“A big, beautiful blonde,” Minnesota said, “and I mean big.”
“How big?”
“You’ll see.”
“And what about your girl? Louise?”
“A tall brunette.”
“Tall?”
“I like ’em tall,” Minnesota said. “Somethin’ wrong with that?”
“No, no,” Buck said. “Nothin’.”
&
nbsp; Minnesota leaned over and said, “And I’ll tell ya somethin’ else.”
“What?”
“I like drinkin’,” he said, “but nothin’ makes me drunk like spending time with a woman—a big, beautiful woman.”
“Makes you drunk?”
Minnesota nodded.
“Like I had a bottle of whiskey.”
Buck was thinking about that when Miss Jean came into the room.
“The ladies are ready,” she said.
“Let’s go, son,” Minnesota said, slapping Buck on the back.
Lucy lifted her legs and spread them open, giving Clint easy access to her. He moved to the bottom of the cot and leaned on it until his face was right where he wanted it to be. He slid his hands beneath her, gripping her butt, and pressed his tongue to her, tasting her slowly. He licked very slowly up and down her pussy until she was moaning aloud, reaching down to grab the back of his head.
“Oooh,” she said as he lapped at her avidly, enjoying the feel of her juices on his face, the tart taste of her on his tongue. “Goddamn. My husband would never do this. And you’re so good at it!”
He didn’t speak, just continued to use his tongue and lips on her, until he could feel the trembling in her belly and her legs. She went as taut as a bowstring and seemed to stop breathing, then all of a sudden she was thrashing about, crying out, windmilling her legs, and bouncing the cot around, even with their combined weight on it.
He withdrew his face from her hot crotch and said, “And that ain’t what it’s like to be in jail either.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
Clint felt the cot start to give beneath them when he crawled on top of Lucy and entered her. He clasped her to him, got off the cot, and pressed her against the wall. Holding her beneath her buttocks, he took her that way, bouncing her up and down on his cock while she cried out and held him around the neck.
Each time she came down on him, he went into her to the hilt.
“God,” she said, “you’re going too deep! It almost feels like you’re tearing me apart.”
“Am I hurting you?” he gasped into her ear.
“Yes,” she said, “and don’t stop.”
Anatomy of a Lawman Page 7