by Jake Logan
It was definitely time for him to take the advice he had given Angelina and get on with his life.
5
Slocum hadn’t gone twenty yards when he heard footsteps behind him, pounding hard. From the impact he knew who was coming. He turned to be grabbed by Angelina. She almost bowled him over, in spite of expecting her.
“Please, no, Mr. Slocum,” she sobbed, burying her face in his chest. “I don’t have anyone else.”
“You were doing a mighty good job when you tracked me down.”
“I’m so confused about all this. Michael did all the money and took care of the ranch. We were doing so well, and I don’t know what to do now.”
“You can’t own the property so I’d say you don’t have any choice but to sell it and move on. You have people somewhere else?”
She backed off but kept her palms pressed flat against his chest. She shook her head, a soft cloud of hair floating about her face. He reached out and pushed it away to reveal a vulnerable face. He saw tears welling in her bright blue eyes but knew that shouldn’t keep him from riding on.
“There’s been an offer, but it wasn’t enough,” she said in a small voice. “And it is our ranch, mine and Michael’s. I have to stay, and you have to help me.”
Slocum hesitated, his mind racing. He felt as if someone had grabbed his heart and squeezed down hard.
“Somebody’s lying about me,” he said after some reflection. Looking around town, he knew any number of cowboys would be willing to string him up, no matter how the ineffectual marshal protested. Finch and his crew would be at the head of the line with a noose.
What ought to have been shrugged off as a mistake had taken on the proportions of a life-and-death situation.
Worse, somebody had told the merchant that he’d killed Michael Holman, giving a precise description. Something burning in Slocum’s gut told him it was the same person who had shot down Macauley after sending him on an enraged mission to kill the man who was ready to run off with his wife.
“Your face changed,” Angelina said in a small voice. “What does that mean? What are you going to do?”
“Help you,” he said. “Whoever killed your husband likely has it in for me and is spreading rumors that I’m responsible.”
“So, find who is saying all those terrible things and that’s who killed Michael?”
Slocum couldn’t say. Who died after a boulder was pushed down a hill toward a town couldn’t be determined. The boulder did the killing, but it would never have started rolling if someone hadn’t tipped it on its way. Slocum suspected he had to find the man with the lever rather than those with the smoking pistols.
“What are you going to do?”
“First, I need to bed down my horse. Yours, too.” With a quick grab, he took the reins to her horse from her hands. He turned, but Angelina stayed close to him, her hip bumping into his as they walked down the middle of Abilene’s main street. The uproar from the saloons somehow faded as Slocum looked over at the woman and became more attuned to her. She occasionally glanced his way. He couldn’t help noticing how her breasts rose and fell a little faster, her breath coming in puffs as if she was straining to keep up. Angelina didn’t show signs of being unable to match his pace, though.
The slight flush to her cheeks told him something more was happening. He felt himself getting harder as his imagination rode along trails that ought to be closed to him. Angelina was a new widow. She had tried to kill him because she thought he was the one who had killed Michael. And Slocum’s jeans got even tighter.
She was a lovely woman, shapely, determined, smart. He couldn’t remember enjoying a woman’s company more than he had the time spent with her as they rode from the miserable little town west of Abilene. He had set a quick pace to reach Abilene in a single day instead of two on the road and settle the matter of Cantwell’s accusation. Slocum wondered if he shouldn’t have drawn out the trip, just a day or so.
“You walked past it,” she said unexpectedly.
Slocum looked back and saw he had kept going past the livery stables. He laughed at his inattention.
“Mind’s on other things,” he said.
“Such as?” Angelina moved closer, her hand pressing into his chest again. “Your heart’s beating a lot faster.”
“Can’t imagine why,” he said. He swallowed as her hand worked down from his heart, to his flat belly, and then lower to press into his crotch.
“I can,” she whispered. “Is there room at the stable for our horses—and us?”
He led the way to livery stable and opened the door. Half the stalls were full. He put their horses into adjacent stalls, but saw that the other empty ones hadn’t been mucked.
“What are we going to do?” she asked.
“The stableman obviously enjoys his liquor. Too much to deal with his work.”
“Because he’s not here?”
Slocum silently pointed to a pile of empty pint bottles in the back corner.
“What can we do? Go back to the hotel?”
“I can’t wait that long,” he said, his arm circling her waist and pulling her close. She opened her mouth to protest. He kissed her, cutting off any words.
For a heartbeat, Angelina resisted. Then she melted into his arms, her soft body fitting nicely against his hard one. Their tongues dueled, dancing from mouth to mouth. They broke off the kiss, panting harshly now. Slocum continued to lavish kisses on her lips, her closed eyes, her cheek and neck, and up to her ear. She gasped when he thrust his tongue into her ear.
“Oh, yes, John, that is nice, but I want more. I want this.”
He grunted as she grasped his crotch. Her fingers began massaging the hardness she found hidden behind the denim until he wanted to cry out—or worse, waste his arousal like a young buck.
“There,” he said. “Up there.”
“The loft?”
“There’s got to be straw up there,” he said, guiding her in the direction of a ladder leading upward.
He didn’t have to urge her to begin climbing, but she stopped when she was three-quarters of the way up. She turned, her back to the ladder, and gripped the rails tightly as she lifted one leg and draped an ankle over his shoulder. He stepped forward and found himself under her skirt. Her leg pulled him closer. He found she had stopped climbing at exactly the right place so his face could nestle into the fragrant bush between her legs.
His lips lavished more kisses on her nether lips and then he began tonguing her slowly. Every lap produced a gasp of desire from her. When his tongue invaded her, she almost fell off the ladder. He had to reach up and keep his hands around her trim waist to prevent her from wavering.
“I never felt anything like this before,” she sobbed out. “I’m on fire inside. I want more. Oh, oh!”
Her leg tightened even more around his neck and pressed his face hard into her intimate region. He began thrusting his tongue in and out and produced a new wave of shuddery sighs from her. When the last one died and she sagged, she put her hands on his shoulders and pushed herself back upright on the ladder. Her leg swung about, and she turned again to begin climbing.
Slocum followed her quickly, pressing his face into her rounded half-moons, kissing as she went up and tumbled into the loft.
“I never had anyone do that,” she said, her breasts rising and falling. “I liked it!”
“What else would you like?” Slocum stood with his head bent slightly because of the low roof. He tossed aside his gun belt and opened his jeans. The last two buttons on the fly exploded from the pressure behind them.
“Oh,” she said in a small voice. Her blue eyes fixed on his manhood.
“Do you want it?”
“Yes,” she said in a voice almost too low to hear.
Angelina leaned back, propped herself up on her elbows, and slowly parted her legs. She said nothing. She didn’t have to. As her skirt hiked up, Slocum saw where his mouth had been only minutes before.
He pulled down his jeans,
dropped to his knees, and caught up the woman’s legs, hands under her knees. With a swift pull, he put her flat on her back and got her legs up to his shoulders, opening her wantonly to his probing.
She gasped as he moved forward. The plum tip of his manhood brushed across her sex lips, parted them, and then sank deep within her using a single smooth thrust.
“Oh, oh, yes, John.” She shuddered with him completely within her hot, moist tunnel.
Slocum was unable to answer. The sudden intrusion left him breathless and robbed him of speech. For a moment, he held himself poised, her ankles on his shoulders, her legs pressed down into her chest. Then he released her and moved back, sliding away until he felt cool air chilling his lubricant-dampened shaft.
Her eyelids fluttered and her eyes came open, but she was unable to focus on him. Slocum felt a bit shaky himself. He stroked over the tops of her legs, then more slowly bent her double again, once more sinking far into her. He paused to relish the heat, the tightness, the way her inner muscles squeezed down rhythmically all around him. When he could no longer remain motionless, he withdrew slowly and once more rushed back. He kept up the pistoning, hard insertion, slow withdrawal, until he felt the fires building within his loins.
When Angelina cried out in release once more, he no longer controlled his movement. Animal lust overtook him, and he slammed in and pulled out faster, harder, until the fires spread from his crotch all the way to the tip of his manhood. The hot rush spilled into the woman’s willing interior. His hips went wild for a moment and then he pulled away and finally slid limply from her clinging core.
“Oh, John,” she said, reaching up and putting her hands on his forearms. She tried to hold him close, but he released her legs and then flopped into the hay beside her. “That was magnificent.”
“You’re magnificent,” he said, a finger tracing along the line of her jaw, across her lips, and then up to her forehead to once more push aside her vagrant hair.
She turned and snuggled closer, clinging to him. Slocum held her until they both fell asleep.
Somewhere near dawn the stable door slammed hard. Slocum disengaged himself from the still sleeping Angelina and peered down from the loft to see a drunken man stagger to the nearest empty stall and fall into it. Slocum sneered at the sight. The empty stalls hadn’t been mucked, and it didn’t seem to bother the stableman.
“What’s wrong, John?”
He felt fingers groping for his arm. Angelina sat up and pressed her cheek against his back. He heard her soft words.
“Do we have to go?”
“The owner showed up,” he said.
“Oh, well,” she said. The woman moved away from him, stood, and straightened her skirt. He had to look at her, taking in the way her shapely legs disappeared under her clothing, making her once more the staid ranch wife.
She saw his interest, gave him an impish grin, turned, and hiked her skirt like a coryphée doing a pirouette, giving him a quick look at her privates. As quickly as she spun, she stopped, letting the skirt swirl back down around her legs.
“Let’s go.” Slocum started to let Angelina go down the ladder first, then changed his mind and dropped down so he could look up as she descended. The attention made Angelina laugh in delight.
He caught her around the waist and lightly lowered her. She rewarded him with a quick kiss.
Slocum spun her around and stepped in front of her when two men threw open the stable door and stood silhouetted by the bright Texas sun.
“There you are,” the bigger of the men said, stepping forward. Slocum shielded his eyes and got a better look at the hefty man.
He was well dressed and didn’t have a six-shooter slung around his waist, but the taller, whipcord-thin man with him did. He rested his hand on the butt of his Smith & Wesson and stepped to one side so he could shoot around the other man.
“Mr. Ralston,” Angelina said, “I didn’t expect to see you here. Are you following me?”
“I want an answer, Miz Holman. Now.”
Slocum saw that they knew each other, and it was not a particularly cordial friendship.
“This is the rancher who made the offer for my property.”
“Land, cattle, all equipment,” Ralston said. “It’s a fair deal, and you ought to take it. I have the papers ready for you to sign over at the bank.”
“It’s an insulting offer!” Angelina pushed past Slocum and stood inches away from the rancher. “Our ranch is worth ten times as much.”
“It’s worth shit to you. Your cattle are scrawny, maybe even falling down with splenic fever. I can take care of all that.”
“Mr. Ralston has the adjoining spread, and our cattle do not have Texas fever.”
“Your cattle,” he corrected. “Your husband is dead.”
“He was murdered, and I’m not sure if you weren’t responsible!”
Ralston reared back, as if to hit the woman. Slocum moved like a striking snake and caught the brawny wrist in an iron grip. Ralston shook a little with strain as he tried to pull free.
“Wait, Barnett,” he said.
“That’s a real good idea, Barnett,” Slocum said. From the corner of his eye he saw the thin man going for his pistol.
“I can take him, Mr. Ralston.”
Slocum squeezed harder on the captive wrist, causing Ralston to grunt in pain. His face turned a bit pale under his weathered skin, but he didn’t say any more. Slocum released him.
“I won’t sell,” Angelina said.
“He your new stud?” Barnett asked. His hand hovered near his six-gun.
Slocum didn’t bother with the taunt. He faced Ralston and said, “The lady doesn’t want to accept your offer.”
“Lady? That whore—”
Ralston didn’t get any farther. Slocum drove a left jab into the man’s belly. As he stepped away from the man while he collapsed to the stable floor, his right hand flashed to his Colt Navy. He had it cocked and aimed at Barnett before the man could clear leather.
For a heartbeat, they stood there frozen. Then Barnett moved his hand away from his gun.
“Get him out of here. He needs a shot of whiskey to clear his head,” Slocum said.
Ralston looked up, gasping for breath and hatred in his eyes.
“I want that ranch, and I’m gonna get it.”
“You’ll get more of the same if you don’t keep a civil tongue in your head,” Slocum said.
Barnett helped his boss to his feet. They backed away, but Slocum called to them before they got outside.
“How’d you know where to find Mrs. Holman?”
“Word’s all around town where she spent the night,” Ralston said. He shook his fist at Slocum. “You’re not getting away with meddling like this, Slocum. Mark my words!”
The rancher and his hired gunman left Slocum staring after them, frowning. Not only had someone told Ralston where to find them, the rancher knew his name.
6
“Oh, he makes me so mad!” Angelina stamped her foot and crossed her arms over her breasts. Her cheeks flushed and her lips pulled into a thin line as she glared at the empty doorway. “I will never sell to him! Never!”
“How’d he know we were here?” Slocum asked.
“What? Why, he said someone told him. He’s such a disgusting man. Michael asked him early on for help, and he refused. Imagine that. We weren’t any competition. Ralston runs a thousand head of cattle and his spread goes—”
Slocum wasn’t listening. He went to the door and looked out into the morning sun. Abilene stirred, ready for another day of commerce. He didn’t see either Ralston or his henchman.
“Is Barnett his foreman?”
“I suppose,” Angelina said. “You’re not paying attention, John. I’m telling you that—”
“How’d they knew we were here?” Slocum almost whispered the question to himself as he continued to study the street, hunting for anyone with more than a passing interest in him and Angelina. He didn’t see anyone, and that
bothered him.
Somebody had told Ralston where they were and had given the rancher Slocum’s name. That kind of interest went far beyond causal gossip. It was the kind of rumor mongering that told Macauley a stranger was having his way with his wife and a distraught widow that he had killed her husband. Men were dying as a result of lies.
“Clever lies,” he said, but he couldn’t figure out what anyone had to gain. Finch might have killed Macauley for his wife, but Finch had been gambling at the time the cowboy was gunned down. Or had he? Time meant nothing to a gambler, and Finch could have sneaked out to cut down his supposed friend.
“I don’t understand what you’re saying.” Angelina came closer and took his arm with both hands, pulling herself closer.
Slocum tried to put into words the uneasy feeling fluttering through his brain like wind-driven cobwebs and couldn’t.
“I suppose you ought to get on back to your ranch. It’s not good leaving chores untended,” he said.
“You’ll… you’ll come out? Soon?”
He looked into her expressive eyes and read fear now. He had seen lust and desire and humor and intelligence, but this fear was the most potent. Angelina had no one but him to rely on now that her husband was dead. Slocum wasn’t sure he wanted the responsibility she wanted him to shoulder.
“I want to talk to the marshal.”
“About Michael?”
“That and other things,” Slocum said. Marshal Wilson was about the only one in Abilene who wasn’t gunning for him, and the marshal lacked the spine for that. It would be easier for the lawman if Slocum simply disappeared.
“Very well.” She turned and stopped. “Should we pay for boarding our horses?”
The stable owner snored loudly in the first stall.
“He didn’t do much for us,” Slocum said, but he fished out a greenback and let it flutter down to the sleeping man’s chest.
He watched Angelina ride off after she gave him quick directions to the Circle H ranch. When she vanished, he mounted and rode slowly through town to the marshal’s office. He considered riding on when he came to the jailhouse, then dismounted. If he argued with himself enough, he was sure he could find a reason to leave Angelina to her own troubles. But someone was doing his damnedest to put Slocum in his sights, and that made him mad.