Simon laughed. “I see what our friend here thinks of your ludicrous assertions!”
Another snowball went flying, this time hitting Bob Freund smack in the face. This time Simon was joined by some of Bob’s friends in his laughter. Alameda walked around the horse’s hindquarters to discover who Simon referred to.
The Phenomenal Percy Tibbles stood there in all his two-dimensional cardboard splendor, a gleeful smile pasted to his face!
“Percy!” she cried.
“Miss Hudson!” Percy greeted her with upraised arm. “These clowns are the worst sort of rubes loathed by everyone in the show business. Hecklers and bummers, all of them! I’ll show them what happens when they doubt the honesty of a clean-living showman!”
Percy seemed more human now, more fluid in his movements. He was no longer a figure in a waxworks show when he stooped to grab another handful of snow, packing it between both palms. He showed the powerful arm of the bear wrestler when he pasted another mob member smack in the face, knocking the fellow to his ass.
“Where are those snowballs coming from?” Bob demanded. “What friend are you referring to, Mr. Hudson?”
Simon chuckled. “Why, our extremely agile friend right down here.” Simon tipped his beaver top hat to Percy. “And who might you be, sir? Remington Rudy?”
Packing another monumental ball of snow, Percy said, “I am the Phenomenal Percy Tibbles, the bear wrestler! And I am tired of seeing honest and scrupulous performers being made fools of!” This ball hit one of the Freund boys in the groin, and he doubled over, toppling into the snow. Some of the mob members were starting to back away from the house.
“Gentlemen!”
Suddenly Derrick was behind them, having dressed himself splendidly in record time, even wearing a high go-to-meeting collar. He spread his hands and called, “Mr. Simon Hudson has spoken his piece. If you could please give us another couple of days, we will have this Kittie Wells business all sorted out. We can hardly go about revealing the true murderer if we’re forced to cower here in Albuquerque House while you wave rifles outside and pillage the hotel room of Rudy Dunraven.”
All Bob Freund wanted to know was, “Who’s throwing those damned snowballs? Where are they coming from?”
So Percy pasted Bob with one more snowball then proceeded to run down the front yard’s pathway, gleeful in his mortal freedom. Percy fairly cavorted, shrieking, “Look! Look what I can do! Senator Spiro, watch me!” And he picked up one of the unearthed rosebushes and tossed it on a vigilante’s head, raining down snow, thorns, and frozen earth.
“Agh!” the fellow cried, a high-pitched, strangled sound, beating off the bush. True terror was in his eyes when he turned tail and sloshed down the pathway away from the house.
Derrick resembled the commanding legislator that he was when he raised a hand and called, “All right, Percy. Calm down. Let’s use reason and not pranks to get rid of this mob.”
“Derrick,” Alameda whispered, clutching her lover’s arm. “They can’t see Percy. It appears that only you, Father, and I can.”
In fact, Simon was chortling with mirth. “Is this one of your amusing circus friends, Allie?”
Percy was having none of Derrick’s suggestions, anyway. He seemed to be having too much fun now that he’d apparently learned how to manipulate matter. Grabbing another uprooted rosebush, Percy raced over to Bob Freund and rattled the bush over his head, crying, “I, who used to summon spirits, now return as one myself!”
Bob appeared truly terrified when the bush rained debris on him. His arms flailed and he knocked the bush around, but only more clods of icy dirt and thorns fell into his eyes. “What’s doing that? You people are evil with magic!”
Percy cried, “Robert Freund! For all your scoffing at the power of magic, I am foretelling that you will die in a bizarre baseball accident!”
Bob thankfully couldn’t hear this prophecy. But just the strangeness of a rosebush held by an unseen hand and snowballs being shot out of nowhere must have finally gotten to him, for he, too, staggered back down the pathway, thrashing his arms at the bush that now scratched bloody creases in his face and neck. On the street, he turned around long enough to yell, “If you people don’t produce the murderer by Monday, this entire town is coming to string up Remington Rudy!”
Derrick shaped his hand into a cone and shouted through it, “Mr. Freund! I can guarantee you we will have the true killer apprehended by Mon—”
With all the energy of a wronged spirit from beyond the veil, Percy tore over to a cast-iron hitching post and wrapped his arms around it as if to uproot it. The few remaining vigilantes must have seen the post quaking and rocking, for they all stumbled down the road or mounted their horses and lit out. Bob managed to make his own snowball and hurl it at the hitching post, but of course it went right through Percy.
“I’ll be back!” Bob vowed.
Derrick and Alameda sighed in tandem, and Simon yelled at Percy, “Hey, Percy! Thanks for the help, but you can leave off that hitching post now. It cost me a pretty penny to have that figure specially smelted for Liberty’s wedding gift.”
Simon dismounted and didn’t blink an eye when Percy disappeared from the hitching post and reappeared standing next to Derrick and Alameda, all grins after his happy spree. Simon also didn’t flinch when he went to shake Percy’s hand. She knew from experience Percy’s hand felt like rubbery pudding. But perhaps now that he seemed to be gaining control over physical matter, his own physical manifestation would take on a more solid form, too.
“That was fun!” cried Percy. “I sure gave those jackasses the old what for, didn’t I? That banker I walloped in the crotch won’t be screwing anything other than his customers for a whole month. Miss Hudson, am I invited to your performance tomorrow night? I’m sure I could have some more fun helping to apprehend that Italian contortionist.”
“Spanish knife thrower,” Alameda corrected him. “I’m sure you’re welcome to come, but Rudy can’t call you forth if he’s not at the performance.”
Percy looked perplexed for the first time. “Call me forth? Why would he have to call me forth?”
Alameda looked at Derrick. “Didn’t Rudy do that just now?”
Derrick looked blank. “Well, we actually didn’t have time. We were both…” He looked at Simon. “Both arranging our collars so we looked presentable. I assumed Rudy did some inner channeling of whatever vibrations he does, because suddenly there Percy was, throwing snowballs.”
“Oh,” said Alameda. “Well, then I suppose Percy is allowed to be of whatever help he wishes. Right, Percy?”
Percy saluted her. “Always glad to help out some fellow showmen.”
“What a funny little man.” Simon chuckled.
Alameda turned to her father, who was looking on with bemusement, as though everyone present were merely actors putting on a show especially for him. “Father, this is Senator Derrick Spiro. He was traveling to Cheyenne when the train was snowed in, to present a measure promoting the women’s vote. And,” she added quickly, before the men could start talking business, “he is my beau.”
“Beau, eh?” said Simon, heartily shaking Derrick’s hand. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you say that about anyone. So you’re not going to hitch your wagon to any of those Freund boys? Can’t say as I blame you. Boy, did they look funny, running from those snowballs.” He sobered. “And I don’t approve of them bringing a lynch mob to my daughter’s house. Where is this Remington Rudy who isn’t the murderer of Kittie Wells?”
By now, Rudy, Ivy, and even Montreal Jed had dared to show their faces on the porch. Rudy was the boldest of the three, and he bounded down the porch stairs, calling out, “Hey, Percy! Thanks for the help. I wasn’t sure if I was going to leave here with my necktie intact.” Thankfully Rudy was now clad in a proper frock coat and a collar even higher than the one Derrick wore, probably from her brother-in-law Levi’s chest of drawers.
Alameda drew Percy aside to let the men talk.
“Percy. We did as you said and followed the trail of the nail paint. I would be ever so grateful for any more clues about how to apprehend this Castillo miscreant.”
Percy became serious and leaned in confidentially. Alameda swore she could smell hay, as though Percy had just come from wrestling a bear in a tent. “Bring your beaux to the show tomorrow night. No one will bother them, since I scared them off. There this Castillo madman will make his fatal move. He isn’t one of us. He’s been cracked by the recent War Between the States and wishes to do much more with his knives than throw them at people’s clothing.”
Nearby, Simon was clapping Derrick chummily on the back. “The women’s vote, eh? Well, I suppose if that gets you more votes, why not? All the wives will be harassing their husbands to back that measure. Now, shooting Indians while riding a horse upside down, that’s a fine career, Rudolph. That’s something I could always picture myself doing. Do you only use a Remington, or do you use other sorts of pistols? Why don’t we go into the parlor and discuss it over some shots of whiskey…”
Derrick looked over his shoulder at Alameda as if to request her help, but Alameda just smiled. If Derrick was going to stick around, he was going to have to get used to her father.
Chapter Sixteen
“They say so much snow has melted, it’s possible the train could leave Laramie City tomorrow.”
Upon hearing Alameda’s words, Derrick’s hand holding the whiskey glass froze. Even his lips stilled upon the rim of the glass, about to take a sip, as he stared sightlessly into the red embers of the fireplace.
Train. Leave Laramie. This thought that he’d been putting out of his mind for so long now had so many implications, he didn’t know what to think first.
Alameda didn’t seem concerned. She was curled next to him on the settee wearing only a white nightdress so flimsy Derrick suspected it had been part of her wedding trousseau. She had first bathed in the luxurious upstairs bathtub, followed by Derrick. Rudy was in there now, while Josefina had stayed to make the dinner and boil bath water. Since Ivy had gone back to Vancouver House with her father to await news from Neil Tempest, they felt free to lounge like properly married folks, not wishing to think on what ominous events tomorrow would bring.
Alameda had reported on events at Kittie’s house. The true love of Kittie had been moping around out front, but Kittie’s father would not let the poor fellow in to pay his respects. Apparently Tom Cudahy only worked at the Elkhorn Barn and Livery Stable, so Mr. Wells had refused to consider him for his daughter. If that wasn’t bad enough, when Alameda had asked to be alone with Kittie’s body, she had slid off one of Kittie’s slippers. Sure enough, Kittie’s toenails were painted vermilion red.
Now Alameda casually slithered her breasts against his arm, acting as though it mattered not one whit whether or not he left for Cheyenne tomorrow.
He could easily leave town. He wasn’t the one accused of murdering any blonde girl. He had important business in Cheyenne that would have a lasting effect on every citizen of Wyoming Territory.
But the subject prodding at the edges of his brain was this. They had discussed their sexual arrangement until everyone appeared to be mutually agreed. But not one word had been uttered about anyone’s desires for a future together. For all Derrick knew, once he went to the territorial legislature, Alameda would pick up courting another Freund son. No, Derrick needed to cement his intentions before he boarded that damned train!
“Well,” he said curtly, “I’m not leaving on that train.” He held her close and nuzzled his mouth alongside her neck, something he knew always raised gooseflesh on her arms.
“But you have business in Cheyenne,” she protested weakly.
“I’m not leaving until Castillo is in lockup and Rudy is exonerated. There’s another council member in town, also stuck here on the train, I can send in my stead.”
“Oh,” Alameda whined, “but he won’t make nearly as dashing a presentation as you would! I want to watch you introduce your measures.”
Derrick pointed out, “But one of them is the measure allowing women to sit in the chambers where lawmakers sit. You wouldn’t be able to hear it anyway. Besides, I sincerely want to see you acting in your Black Crook.”
Alameda lightly hit him on the forearm. “Oh, bosh. It’s hardly acting. All I have to do is wave my arms around a lot and utter nonsense like, ‘Tonight while wandering without my protective talisman, I trod within one of the charmed circles of our enemy, the Arch Fiend Zamiel.’”
“Well,” said Derrick, “that is who I wish to protect you from. That Arch Fiend Zamiel.” Lightly biting her earlobe, he hoped it might distract from the drama of what he was about to say. “You do know that I’m hopelessly in love with you, Alameda.”
She touched the tip of her nose to his like a cat and looked cross-eyed at him. “I did suspect that.”
Derrick closed his eyes and exhaled in relief. Then he remembered. Here was a woman so disgusted by men she had not even allowed a single Laramie man to court her. So he threaded his fingers through her wet bun and made as if to kiss her but stopped to pull away a few inches. “And once I have a few moments to find a proper ring, I plan to ask you to be my wife.”
This wiped the contented smile from Alameda’s face. She drew back, too, expressionless. As though this thought had never crossed her mind.
I may as well just lumber through this, now that I’ve started it. “Alameda. I, too, waited a long time after Cora died. I found no woman I even wanted to kiss, much less make love to. Now that I’ve found you, I’m not going to take any stupid risk of losing you. Alameda, you’re a majestic, fetching, glorious spitfire of a woman. Any man would be lucky to have you. So I figured I’d best get there as fast as possible. I could never live with myself if some other bastard won your hand first.”
While he’d been talking, her eyes misted over. When he said “bastard,” though, she giggled. “Yes, some other jackass.”
They both laughed and touched the tips of their noses together. But it occurred to Derrick—Alameda still hadn’t really responded. He was unable to bear this tension anymore, so he said against her mouth, “So, what say you, women voters of Wyoming. Do you say yeah or nay to this worthy fool who comes to you with his heart in his hand?”
Derrick had not realized that Alameda was overcome with emotion. He tasted the tears that had rolled down her cheeks and into the corners of her mouth. “Of course. I want that more than anything else in the whole world. I didn’t realize until I met you that I have never ever even been in love with any man. I was afraid it was just my destiny to die an old maid or marry another Ralph Ellis.”
Derrick nearly cried for joy, too. Cradling her jaw in his palms, he laid many little kisses upon her luscious lips. She was apparently so overcome with emotion that she took a little leap and was straddling him, her naked, steamy pussy plastered directly over his rapidly growing erection. Since he was only clad in one of Levi’s flimsy silk dressing gowns, it would have been a very simple thing to just yank aside the fabric and bounce her up and down on his cock.
As though reading his mind, Alameda raised herself a bit and unsheathed Derrick’s cock. With a mischievous grin, she smeared his cockhead up and down against her slimy pussy. Derrick was aghast at the boldness of this glorious spitfire, but he still grunted in ecstatic amazement when she sank down on his prick. He was lodged in her to the hilt, and—what was Rudy doing?”
“Get your cock off her shoulder.” Derrick shoved his friend by his stupid naked hip. Apparently, Rudy was wearing even less than Derrick was—just a pair of red drawers—but the second he’d seen Derrick and Alameda coupled like that, Rudy had just whipped out his cock. “Just out with it, just like that. Is that right, you crass buffoon?”
“Oh, Derrick,” Alameda cooed, gyrating her hips in a circular manner. Did Rudy know they were locked in a delicious fuck under Alameda’s nightdress? “Remington Rudy is our best friend. Rudy, you can whip your cock out any time. Even the mo
ment after Derrick has asked me to marry him.”
“Marry, eh?” said Rudy, grinning. “Well, about time, Derrick. I thought you would’ve asked her absolutely hours ago.”
Derrick even casually wove his fingers together at the back of his neck, although it was difficult to maintain a straight face, and said, “Well, it made sense, Rudy. I couldn’t let her get away.”
Oddly, though, Rudy continued to stand there with feet spread apart, his beautifully veined cock bobbing just inches from Derrick’s face, the balls absolutely bursting the seams of the drawers. It occurred to Derrick that Rudy must feel left out, having heard this news. Not only was he still possibly being driven out of town if Percy was wrong about the Black Crook performance tomorrow night, but his two closest friends and confidantes in the entire world probably seemed as though they were teaming up against him.
Rudy hadn’t been present at dinner the night before when Ivy Tempest had admitted she preferred having two husbands and that nobody in town had given her any grief about it. It probably hadn’t occurred to Rudy that it was even a possibility.
So now Derrick said casually, “Of course, I can just build a house here in Laramie City, like Levi Colter did for Liberty and Garrett.”
Alameda gyrated her hips in her excitement. “Oh, really? You don’t have to live in Cheyenne? I would love to stay closer to my family.”
Derrick said, “Not at all. I’d just take the apartment in Cheyenne, the one the legislature allotted me. You could stay there, too, once they allow women to visit the chambers. But I like Laramie. Don’t you, Rudy?”
Rudy grinned, that inscrutable Grecian god smile of his erotically bowed lips. “I used to like Laramie, until the populace decided I was the Cinnabar Murderer.” But he stepped closer to Derrick, his tasty cock looming even closer.
Alameda’s eyes shone with arousal. “Lick him, Derrick,” she purred in his ear, her eager pussy encouraging him as she humped him. “Lick his beautiful meat. Show him that you love him, too.”
Cold Steel and Hot Lead [How the West Was Done 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 14