by Logan, Jake
“Don’t suppose it’d do any good to ask who’s been out of town,” Slocum said. “Frank’s partner is likely someone from Silver City known to you.”
“Hell, even Tucker has been out of town. I’m expectin’ him back any time now. No, people go and come in Silver City all the time. Besides, Frank’s partner is likely to be a miner. Him and Bedrich knew most all them hard rock–scratchin’ bastards. For a dollar and a drink, there’s not a man out there in Chloride Flats who wouldn’t kill his own granny.”
“I don’t cotton much to looking over my shoulder all the time I’m in Silver City,” Slocum said.
“Well, Slocum, I can solve that problem for you. Let me lock you up. Marianne looks to want time with her son.”
“Let ’em both go, Sheriff,” Billy piped up. “They ain’t gonna run. Give your word, Mr. Slocum, and Sheriff Whitehill will let you both out.”
Slocum watched the sheriff’s reaction and stiffened a mite when the boy’s suggestion produced a slow nod. He knew when to speak and when to keep his yap shut. He waited for the sheriff to come to a decision.
“She’s been through hell, that I’ll guarantee,” Whitehill said. He looked up at Slocum. “You done good brining’ her boy back, too. But you both got murder charges hangin’ over your head.”
“Billy will watch us. He’s gotten real good at that,” Slocum said.
This produced a genuine laugh from the sheriff. He awkwardly climbed to his feet, reminding Slocum of his earlier fleeting scheme to simply walk away. As painful as Whitehill’s joints appeared, it might be a day before he could get limber enough to mount and chase after them.
“I’m gonna do that very thing. You watch ’em like a hawk, Billy, and if either of ’em tries to leave town, you come tell me straightaway.”
“You pay me to be a deputy?” Billy asked.
Again the sheriff surprised Slocum with his reaction. Most lawmen would have blustered and bellowed. Whitehill dug around in his vest pocket and pulled out a nickel.
“This ought to do ’til I get one or both of ’em locked up again.”
Slocum didn’t listen to any more of the discussion between urchin and lawman. Marianne came from the jailhouse, her arm around Randolph’s shoulders. The boy looked like a frightened fawn wanting to bolt and run. He was at an age where having his mother cling so tightly to him would cause taunts for a month. Luckily no one his own age other than Billy saw.
“You two go on,” Marianne said to empty air. Randolph and Billy ran off, Billy showing his friend the money he’d gotten from the sheriff.
“He convinced me to let you out, Marianne. You’re not free, just not in a cell.”
“John, thank you!”
“Not me,” Slocum said. “Billy.”
Marianne laughed at this, then obviously wondered how true it might be from the way the sheriff nodded.
“I can certainly use a bath,” she said. “And maybe a drink.”
Whitehill clucked his tongue at that, returning to his jailhouse without a word of approbation that a proper woman publicly spoke of alcohol in such a way.
“It was you that got me free, wasn’t it, John?” She slipped her arm through his and steered him from the jailhouse.
“I did what I could, but it was Billy that turned the tide.”
“Do tell. That boy’s going to make a fine lawyer someday.”
“Or get himself killed,” Slocum said, explaining how the boy had been instrumental in finding and rescuing Randolph.
“You serious about another bath?” Slocum asked, slowing when they passed the barber shop. “Looks like a passel of customers wanting shaves.”
“A bath isn’t what I want,” she said, pulling him closer so her hip bumped his. She contrived to rub against him like a cat greeting a long-lost friend. Her fingers stroked over his forearm.
“What is?” Slocum asked, wanting the same as Marianne but inclined to make her ask.
“What we did before, without the bath.”
“Do tell. My memory is a bit hazy,” he said. “What might that have been?”
“Do I have to remind you?” She grinned wickedly now.
“Won’t do any good unless you show me.”
“You were a good enough student in school.”
“There were lessons Miss Demetrius could never teach me.”
“She was as ugly as a mud fence,” Marianne said, leaning closer and putting her head against his upper arm.
“She was as ugly as you are beautiful,” Slocum said softly.
“I don’t know, she was mighty ugly.”
“You’re mighty beautiful.” Slocum didn’t care that they were just off the main street and still in plain view of anyone passing by. He kissed her.
She returned the kiss with ardor. They wrapped their arms around each other and kissed, and time stood still until Marianne broke it off, breathing heavily. He loved the way her breasts rose and fell so fetchingly. Truth was, he loved most everything about her.
“You smell of smoke. We’ve got to get you out of those clothes.”
“And you smell wonderful,” he said, burying his nose in her hair. She did. In spite of being locked up for days, her hair carried a faint whiff of violet that sent his heart pounding. Or was it more?
Her body pressing into his accelerated his heart, as did the way her fingers danced over his vest, his shirt, undoing a button here and lingering there to stroke over bare flesh as she probed under his shirt and across his chest. He gasped when she became even bolder and pressed her palm into his crotch.
“It’s getting mighty hot in there,” she said.
“I can think of somewhere that might just be even hotter—and wetter.” He ran his hand down the front of her blouse, pressed into her belly, and worked lower slowly until he could finger her privates through the folds of cloth. “I’m right. You’re wet.” He nibbled at her ear and whispered, “and hot.”
“We have to get off the street, John, or the sheriff will arrest us for indecency.”
He looked around and said, “I reckon I’ll have to take you to the woodpile.”
Several cords of wood had been stacked behind the bakery. The mouth-watering scent of baking bread mingled with sweat and dirt and the exquisite violet in Marianne’s hair.
“Are you going to . . . punish me for being a bad girl?”
“Depends,” he said. “It wouldn’t do any good to spank you through all those layers of clothes you’re wearing.”
Both of them stared into the other’s eyes, then silently rushed to the high stacks of wood. Between two cords was a yard-wide space. If they stayed low and no one walked around the ends of the woodpile, they wouldn’t be seen.
Marianne went to the middle of the stacks and began hiking her skirts, showing her ankles, her calves, then more slowly revealing her knees and thighs. When she saw the effect it had on him, she moved even more slowly to reveal she didn’t have on any underwear.
Seeing this made Slocum want to erupt. He hung up his gun belt and worked to unfasten the buttons in his fly. He gasped in relief as his erection popped free, but his target had disappeared. Marianne turned slowly, giving him a view of her hip and then the flare of her bare ass cheeks. She bent forward as she lifted her skirts to moon him.
“I’m a very bad girl,” she said, her voice husky. “What are you going to do about that?”
He stepped forward, half turned, and landed an open-handed swat on her exposed butt. The sound echoed, then was drowned out by her sob.
“That stung,” she said. “But I’m not feeling like a good girl yet.”
He began spanking her with his open hand, slowly, leaving a red outline of his hand on her snowy white rump. Her knees sagged and then she dropped to hands and knees. He had to hike up her skirt to keep her well-spanked bottom in view.
“I�
�m on fire, John. All over. On fire. Stoke my fire, I need you to—oh!”
He dropped to his knees behind her, ran one arm around her waist, and pulled her back into the circle of his groin. His meaty shaft parted the rosy ass cheeks and found the dampness leaking from within. He poked a little harder, got the tip just between her pinkly scalloped sex lips, and then arched his back. He could have rammed as hard into her as he wanted. He chose to enter slowly, inch by torturous inch. By the time he was buried balls deep, she quaked in reaction.
“Oh, you’re filling me up so much,” she said, shuddering with every jerk of his hidden organ.
He pulled her back firmly into the curve of his body and then groped about until he found where he disappeared into her center. His fingers came away oily. He smeared this all around as he explored until he found the tiny bud growing at the top of the nether lips. He pressed his finger into the fleshy button. Marianne cried out and half stood as orgasm crashed through her.
As she settled down, Slocum began to move with methodical strokes, long, deep ones that built the woman’s desires to the breaking point again. He tugged gently at the dangling tits, moved his hands around, hunting for new places to excite her. He found one on her hip. Then he reared back and landed another open-handed swat on her curvy rump.
“More, John, do it more. I want you to spank me more!”
He did. His hand turned warm from the spanking. Then more as his hand burned when he felt her constricting around his buried manhood. She sobbed and moaned, then called out his name as she squeezed down all around him. This pushed him to the limits of his endurance. It was as if hidden fingers stroked over him, silky, delicate ones milking him. He began thrusting with more determination.
He had to use both hands to hang on to her hips as she bucked and thrashed about. Then they fell into a motion that drove him wild. She slammed back as he raced forward. Then she rotated her hips in one direction as he circled in the other. The coupled motions robbed him finally of all control, and he spent. He grunted as the warmth in his groin spread throughout his belly and body and exploded in his head.
Finally done, he rocked back to about the sweetest sight ever. She had stayed with her butt up in the air. His red hand-prints still glowed dully. She waggled her ass a little to tease him, then agilely swung about and sat facing him.
She lifted slightly and rubbed her behind.
“You ever a schoolteacher? You surely do know how to deliver a swat.”
“I was inspired,” he said, rubbing his hands together. The right palm still tingled from the contact with her snowy white ass flesh.
Marianne sighed, then said, “Thank you. Oh, not for this. This was incredible. Thanks for saving Randolph. That boy knows how to get himself into trouble.”
“It wasn’t his fault. He was working at the Lonely Cuss when Frank nabbed him.”
“What do you mean?” Marianne looked worried.
“The owner’s brother gave him a job sweeping up. Randolph was in the back room when Frank spotted him, I reckon, and decided to get Bedrich’s map in exchange.”
“Tom Gallifrey’s brother?”
“Big galoot. Fat as your boss is skinny.”
“I don’t know him. Tom never mentioned a brother.”
“Said he’d come in from Mesilla because his brother’d asked for help. Without you to charm the customers, the Lonely Cuss is likely losing money every night it’s open.”
“Not the most prosperous saloon in town, that’s for sure.” Marianne smiled wickedly. “Except the nights I work. Then the miners are packed in there for some reason.” She pushed up her breasts, released them, and let them bob about.
“Yeah, no idea why the miners flock in the nights you work.”
Marianne turned dour.
“I need to check with Tom to see if I still have a job. Being locked up or out gallivanting around trying to trap Frank has made me miss a couple nights.”
“You wouldn’t have to work if Bedrich had given you the map to his claim. From all that Frank said, it might be more than a map he’s looking for. Did Bedrich record the deed?”
“The claims office burned down,” Marianne said. “But if Jack had his copy of the claim, all duly signed, it would tell where the strike was.” She shook her head. “The son of a bitch never gave me anything.”
“Frank thought he had it on him when he went to Santa Fe.”
“To record the claim with the territorial claims office?”
Slocum agreed. But Texas Jack had either hidden the deed or lost it before Frank ambushed him. Bedrich’s body had been searched after it came out of the ice block. With everyone still willing to kidnap and kill, that deed was proving elusive to find.
“I’d better change clothes. And get a real bath,” Marianne said. “You could do with following my lead.”
“Not what I want to follow of yours,” Slocum said.
They laughed. Slocum stood, helped her to her feet, and gave her a satisfying kiss. Then they made sure they were presentable before stepping out from between the stacks of wood. Slocum looked around. Nobody had any idea what had gone on there. That suited him just fine. Marianne’s reputation as a harlot was firmly established among those in Silver City. She had to rehabilitate herself. Working in the Lonely Cuss might not be the most respectable job in town, but it was better than being a soiled dove.
Keeping a respectable distance, they went back to the hotel. Marianne paused on the front steps, finally saying softly, “Any way you could sneak up to my room? There’s a real bed there.”
“There you are,” came Mrs. Gruhlkey’s shrill voice. “Where is he?”
Marianne rolled her eyes, then turned, her smile benign as she faced the hotel proprietress.
“Who do you mean, Mrs. Gruhlkey?”
“That boy William, that’s who. I give him a free room in exchange for chores. He’s nowhere to be found, and I need him to clean out the back storeroom right now. Immediately!”
“I have trouble enough keeping up with my own son,” she said.
“Well, that’s why I asked you. They’ve gone off together. Find Randolph, find William.”
“I’ll look for them, Mrs. Gruhlkey. They have to be somewhere. We saw them only a few minutes ago.”
“A half hour,” Slocum corrected. “I’ll look, too.”
“If I don’t get that room cleaned out by sundown, he’s fired!” Mrs. Gruhlkey left in a swirl and hiss of floor-length skirts.
“We were that long? It seemed over so fast,” Marianne said softly, looking up at Slocum.
“If she hunted in the hotel, you can bet Billy and Randolph aren’t there. I’ll ask around. You do the same.”
“Very well, John. We can meet back here in a few minutes.” She sucked in a deep breath, held it, then let it out in a quick gust that set her breasts bobbing again. “I know Randolph’s hiding places. I’ll check there first.”
Slocum forced his attention back to the chore at hand and away from the delicious sight of the woman’s teats. Even encased in a blouse and layers of other material, they captivated him. The idea of sneaking into her room without Mrs. Gruhlkey noticing recommended itself to him more and more.
After he found the boys.
Two hours of searching failed to turn up either Randolph or Billy.
20
“I declare, I’ve never seen a woman less able to keep her own affairs in order,” Sheriff Whitehill said, shaking his head. He worked the tips of his mustache into sharp points, only to have them fluff back out when he quit twirling. “Tell me what you know. Not the guesses, the facts.”
Slocum thought Marianne was going to explode. He put his hand on her shoulder, but she angrily shrugged it off, leaned forward, both hands on the sheriff’s desk, and moved until her face was only inches from his. Slocum had to give this much to Whitehill. He didn’t budge
an inch or even blink.
“They were last seen over at the Lonely Cuss. Nobody’s spotted either Randolph or Billy since an hour before sundown.”
“No way to track them in the dark,” Whitehill said, “assumin’ there’s somewhere to track ’em to. What’s your opinion on this affair, Slocum?”
“Randolph was talking with a couple miners. Nobody’s seen any of them since the miners left town.”
“Now that’s peculiar,” Whitehill said. “Miners come to town to whoop and holler and get drunk. Why’d they leave ’fore they got a chance to do any of that?”
“Randolph had a job sweeping up at the saloon,” Slocum said. “That might be why they went to the Lonely Cuss. Randolph was overheard saying he needed a lot of money for something.” Slocum didn’t miss the sudden furtiveness in the sheriff’s eyes. Marianne did.
“Find them, Sheriff. That’s your job,” she demanded.
“Go on back to the hotel, Marianne,” Whitehill said. The uneasiness in his voice further alerted Slocum to something being wrong.
“Not until you do something. Find them!”
“Go on. I’ll be along in a few minutes,” Slocum said. He took her arm. She tried to pull free, but his fingers dug in cruelly, getting her attention. She started to turn her wrath on him, then subsided.
She left the jail without another word. Slocum waited until she had gotten out of earshot before accosting the sheriff.
“What’d you tell the boy? Why’d he need so much money?”
“Well, it’s like this, Slocum. I didn’t actually promise him I’d release his ma for good, but I mentioned bail money. He might have misconstrued what I said.”
“So Randolph thought giving you the bail money would free his ma for good?”
“Might have gotten that idea. Didn’t intend it to come out the way it did.” Whitehill looked away, pointedly avoiding Slocum’s cold glare.
“How much? How much did you tell him his ma’s bail was?”
“A hunnerd dollars.”
Slocum’s mind raced. How could a young boy ever hope to raise that much money? Legally? Or had he listened to Billy? That boy’s imagination knew no bounds. While Billy had never hinted at larceny, he had shown a mighty big curiosity about killing and what it felt like. Slocum had heard men talk like that before, and they’d all ended up in shallow graves.