by Jake Logan
Slocum used the distraction to his advantage, shoving Timmons off his body and slamming the counterfeiter’s head into the floor roughly. Then a pair of smooth arms suddenly grabbed Slocum under the shoulders and he felt himself being lifted up and dropped on the feather mattress. Before he could get up, Elena flopped on top of him. They rolled off the bed, Slocum recovered his six-shooter, and he raised it to . . . an empty room.
“Did they take the gold?”
“No, no, John. It’s still in the wardrobe. But we have to go after them.”
“Why?”
“They’re criminals. I’ve promised to bring them to justice.”
“There’s not a whole lot of evidence against them, and isn’t recovering the gold the important part?”
“But—”
“They won’t rejoin the rest of the gang. They’d be killed for losing the gold.”
“The rest of the gang?” Elena looked at him curiously. “What do you mean? Isn’t this all of them?”
Slocum closed and locked the door before answering.
“Neither of those men had a scar on his face.”
“He’s the leader?”
“He’s the one I saw minting the planchets,” Slocum said.
“But where is he? Where is the rest of the gang, if there’re others?”
Slocum opened a door and saw a small bathroom. This was a deluxe suite.
“I’ll tell you,” Slocum said, “if you’ll wash my back.” He stripped off his mud-caked coat and then turned the handles on the water tap. Hot, steamy water gushed forth.
“I won’t ask you,” Elena said.
“What’s that?” It was Slocum’s turn to be surprised.
“I won’t ask until you wash mine.” Eyes fixed on him, she began to slowly open the buttons on her blouse.
13
“That sounds like a fair deal,” Slocum said, kicking off his boots as he sat on the edge of the bathtub. Elena continued to unbutton her blouse as she went to him. Then, with a quick movement, she pushed him into the tub with a loud splash.
“You . . .” Slocum didn’t get any farther because Elena jumped on top of him, causing even more water to splash about. Their mouths met and locked in a deep kiss.
Moving about, they found a more comfortable position in the bath as warm water continued to gush in. Slocum ran his hand over her cheek, down her neck, and then finished the job of unbuttoning Elena’s blouse. He tossed the wet garment out of the tub, leaving her naked to the waist.
He bent down and lightly kissed each breast. She sloshed about some more so she could position herself better.
“That feels so good, John. More. Do more.”
He did more. His tongue pressed in turn into each hard nub capping her breasts. The throb of her heart increased as blood rushed into the nipples. His arms circled her and pulled her closer. His hands cupped her buttocks and lifted her up so he could scoot her skirt around her waist.
“Wait, John. Wait a minute.” Elena got to her feet in the bath and shimmied to get free. From his seated position looking up, Slocum got the sight of his life. The furry triangle between her legs was matted from her dip into the tub, but past this, across her slightly domed belly and past her lovely breasts, he saw how she looked down at him with unbridled lust.
He began to respond. And she saw it.
“Let me get you free,” she offered. Elena reached down and began unbuttoning his jeans. When his long, hard manhood popped free, she sank down, her legs on either side of his.
“I want out of my pants,” Slocum said, pinned beneath her weight. He pressed into the delightful triangle between her legs and felt her nether lips lewdly caressing him.
“You have to earn it,” she said.
Slocum began exploring her water-slickened body, fingers pressing and stroking until he found hidden spots that caused her to gasp in pleasure. A spot on her hip, another on her throat, then he traced over every bone in her spine, working downward slowly until she trembled with need.
“I want you,” she said, reaching down to grip him so she could guide him into her hot core.
Slocum lifted himself up, silently encouraging her to peel off his jeans. She looped her fingers around the waistband and pulled downward. His legs were still tangled, but he was free where it mattered. This time when she sank down, he slid deep into her. They both gasped with the gentle intrusion. The water lapped around them, stimulating, caressing, making the lovemaking even more erotic. Then she began moving, rising and falling slowly. He slid almost all the way from her tightness, then delved far up into her tightly clinging interior once more.
Elena added a corkscrewing motion to her hips that drove Slocum crazy with need. The heat in his balls turned to white-hot burning. He gripped the sides of the bathtub for leverage and started lifting himself up to meet her descent. Faster they moved. Together. They moved together until they melted into each other and exploded in sexual release.
She sank forward, her cheek resting on his shoulder. He held her awkwardly, then pushed her upward.
“We’ve got work to do,” he said.
“What? But—”
“You said you’d wash my back.”
Elena looked at him, then laughed.
“We had a deal, didn’t we? You have to wash my back first.”
She helped him get his jeans off, and both buck naked now, they filled the tub with hotter water, turned off the taps, and set to work washing each other until their passions built once more—and then were sated.
“All right,” Elena said, sitting on Slocum’s lap as the bath water cooled down around them. “I’m asking now. Where’s the leader of the counterfeiting ring?”
He moved his hands idly across her belly, then down to her crotch. His finger curled and entered her. She sighed as he began moving slowly in and out.
“You have a way of distracting me from my job, John.”
“Leadville,” he said. “The man with the scar is in Leadville, but I don’t know why. After such a theft, any smart crook would have hightailed it with his partners and be in this suite with a lovely woman, pleasuring her, maybe in a bath.”
“Or in that wonderful bed,” Elena said with some longing. “This is so sexy, but the bed . . .”
“Later,” Slocum said. “He has to be in Leadville for some other reason, something even bigger.”
“He needs a fair amount of lead to make the planchets,” she said.
“The dies and other equipment he needs must be heavy.”
“It’s hard to move them around. Some counterfeiters simply abandon everything when they have to run from the law.”
“He might like Leadville as a headquarters,” Slocum said.
“Why not Denver? It’s bigger. There are a lot of ways to escape if the law got too close.”
“Or a certain Pinkerton detective got too close,” Slocum said, pulling Elena back even more into his body.
“John,” she said firmly. “The water’s getting cold.”
He hesitated, then said in her ear, “The bed looks nice and warm. Like you said, it’s a shame to waste it since Timmins has already paid for everything.”
Elena heaved herself up and stepped out of the large bathtub. Slocum followed and found himself being toweled down with a big, fluffy cloth. He returned the favor and then they found how comfortable the bed was.
“Mr. Pullman will think we’re both dead,” Elena said.
Slocum grunted under the weight of the two bags filled with coins. More than once since leaving the hotel, he had considered ways of sending Elena off on a wild-goose chase so he could buy himself a horse, load up the gold, and ride away a rich man. But he never carried through any of the plans and couldn’t say why.
“There he is, John.” She pointed at the beggar at the corner. “At least, I think that’s Mr. Pullman. The one rattling coins in his tin cup?”
Slocum had already spotted Josiah Pullman. The man thought he was a master of disguise but instead looked
like a clown in a traveling circus. The spirit gum he had used to paste on a wispy mustache had begun to slip, giving him a lopsided look.
“We’ve got what was stolen,” Slocum said, dropping the bags in front of Pullman. The Pinkerton detective looked up, then hissed like a snake.
“Go away. I’m undercover!”
“No need. We recovered the coins. The real coins.” Slocum kicked one of the heavy bags.
“Well, we got back the coins that hadn’t been spent. One of the outlaws is named Timmins, and he got away, but his partner is wounded.” Elena sounded smug but also a tad fearful what Pullman might say.
“She shot him in the leg while they were fighting,” Slocum said, just to watch Pullman’s reaction. It was everything he could have hoped for. The man’s eyes went wide, and the mustache finally gave up the ghost and fell into his lap. Pullman fumbled to retrieve it and stick it into place but failed repeatedly.
“You shot a man?”
“While they were fighting,” Slocum said again. “Hand to hand. She didn’t have any choice since I was trying to bash in Timmins’s brains.”
“Timmins. I know that name,” Pullman said, getting to his feet. He stripped off the rest of the fake hair on his face and stuffed it into his beggar’s cup. He looked down, fumbled out the few coins he had in the cup, and thrust them into his vest pocket, then cast aside the cup with the mustache and eyebrows that looked like mismatched caterpillars.
“Will you follow up on this lead, Mr. Pullman?”
“We can find him if we work together. Good work, Miss Warburton.”
“I, uh, Mr. Pullman, I intend to return to Leadville. I—we—believe the leader of the counterfeiting ring is still there.”
“Why bring the stolen coins to Denver if they hadn’t intended to divvy them up and scatter to the four winds? No, Miss Warburton, you are wrong. The entire gang returned. This Timmins might be the leader.”
“She’ll need a guard when she takes the stolen coins back to the Leadville Bank,” Slocum said.
“Why, no, the coins remain here. I’ll take custody and—”
“I’ll see them back if you intend to stay in Denver,” Slocum said to Elena. “If the bank starts distributing counterfeit coins, the miners are likely to lynch everyone working in the bank when they find out they’re trying to spend lead slugs instead of real gold.”
“I need to contact the home office for instructions,” Pullman said.
“Send the reply to Leadville,” Elena said with surprising determination. “I’ll check in every day or so.”
“You can’t go there. I forbid it! I’m senior field agent, and you take orders from me.”
“Might be she’ll only be able to check for your telegram every other day,” Slocum said pointedly.
“This is outrageous. I’ll see that Mr. Pinkerton fires you!”
“When you turn in your report, be sure to mention that it was Mr. Slocum and I who recovered the gold, killed three more counterfeiters, wounded another, and ran them out of Denver.”
“You don’t know they left town.”
“Then it’s up to you to find Timmins and bring him to justice,” Slocum said. He hefted the two bags. To Elena he said, “We can catch the Leadville train if we hurry.”
He and Elena Warburton left Pullman sputtering on the street corner.
“What have we here? Are you making a deposit?” the banker asked, eyeing Slocum’s burden with avaricious eyes. Slocum dropped the heavy bags onto the bank president’s desk.
“We need to have a conversation, sir,” Elena said. “It’s been a long trip back from Denver, and I would prefer to complete this unseemly business with dispatch.”
“Have a seat and—”
“In private,” Slocum said, seeing how the three tellers all sidled a little closer. Whether they wanted a better look at Elena or were interested in a huge deposit didn’t matter.
“This is most irregular,” the banker said.
“I need to rest and cannot do so until this matter is settled.”
“What matter is that?” The banker looked skeptical, but having Elena with Slocum eased the skepticism.
“You have a vault filled with bogus coins,” Slocum said in a low voice. He didn’t much care if the tellers overheard. Since none of them reacted the way the banker did, he doubted they had been close enough to hear him.
“That is an outrageous claim, sir! Such a thing has never happened to this bank!”
“Come on, Miss Warburton. Let’s not bother saving his bacon.”
“Wait, wait, we can talk. There is a modicum of privacy there,” he said, indicating a desk in the far corner of the room away from the tellers’ cages.
Slocum heaved the coins back over his shoulders, then kicked open the gate in the low railing and went directly to the vault.
“Stop. I say, stop!”
“We can talk inside.”
“There’s hardly room.”
“Make room,” Slocum said. “I’m as tired as she is. She’s a Pinkerton detective, you know?”
“Well, I, very well.” The banker looked meaningfully at the head teller, as if warning him this might be an attempted robbery. As Slocum went into the tiny vault and dropped the bags, he thought it might be a useful ploy. A bank could be robbed without much effort, no gunshots, no one being killed, if the president simply allowed the robber into the vault under false pretenses.
But there was nothing false and he’d have to wait for another chance to rob a bank using this scheme. Slocum opened the sacks and spilled the contents out for the banker to see.
“An impressive amount of money, sir,” the banker said.
Elena shut the vault door. The three of them barely fit inside along with the boxes and shelving.
“The shipment you received a few days ago contained counterfeit coins. The robbers did not try to steal from the train. Rather, they substituted the fake coins for the real.”
The banker opened the canvas sack and drew out a coin. He ran his finger around the milled edge, then bit down on the coin. In the dim light he strained to see the result. What Slocum could see in the light slanting in from outside the vault was the way the banker’s face drained of all blood.
“Fake,” he croaked out.
“The Pinkerton Detective Agency has recovered the real coins—most of them. The robbers spent rather lavishly in Denver,” Elena said. She blushed and touched her lips with her hand. Slocum knew that she was remembering how they had put some of the robbers’ wild spending to good use. The bath and bed had been gleefully shared.
“Pinkerton?”
“What I suggest, to avoid further embarrassment,” Elena said, “is for you to swap the lead slugs for the real coins. No one need ever know you had the fake coins in your vault and intended to distribute them.”
“I . . . I’ve already paid the weekly salaries for the Golightly Mine.”
“How you handle that is up to you,” Elena said.
“Since we’re not returning all the gold, the bank is responsible for the balance,” Slocum said. “That’d include the payroll already met.”
“I can’t tell them I gave out counterfeit coins.”
“As I said, this is your responsibility. Now, do you want to make the swap or should I retain the real coins and turn them over to the marshal?”
“Miss Warburton, please.” The banker was sweating rivers now. “I need to think what to do.”
“The counterfeiter who made these coins is still on the loose,” Slocum said. “The sooner Miss Warburton stops him, the sooner the integrity of your assets will be guaranteed.”
“There might be more fake coins?” He took out a handkerchief and mopped his face. “Very well. I certainly owe you for this, uh, rescue of my bank’s reputation.”
“It’s more than reputation at stake,” Elena said. “Your bank would have been ruined, and you and your staff might have been lynched.”
“I, uh, yes.”
“The Pi
nkerton Detective Agency will send you the bill for our services soon. Our senior agent, Mr. Josiah Pullman in Denver, will be in touch.”
“I’ll lug those out for you,” Slocum said, grunting as he picked up the bags of phony coins.
“Everything will be taken care of,” the banker said loudly as he pushed open the vault. The tellers quickly pretended to be occupied, but the banker spoke for their benefit. “Your business is appreciated, but you ought to store those, uh, those—”
“Horseshoes,” Slocum said, enjoying seeing the banker squirm. “I should have known horseshoes could be stored about anywhere if they don’t get damp and rust.”
“Yes, that’s right. Don’t let your horseshoes rust,” the banker said, laughing.
Slocum and Elena left. The cold, thin mountain air tore at his lungs and felt wonderful.
“Let’s go to the hotel,” Elena said. “I am tired from traveling so long.”
“This hotel’s not like the one in Denver,” Slocum pointed out.
“Perhaps we can find one or two things to make it seem . . . similar.”
Slocum and Elena did the best they could on a smaller bed with a lumpy mattress and no tub with hot running water.
The next morning it was time to find the scar-faced man.
14
“The counterfeit coins will be in Denver by tomorrow evening,” Elena Warburton said, standing back as the train pulled out of the station. Cinders and a spray of mud cascaded down on her as the wheels dug down on the steel rails and the locomotive built up speed.
“Think Pullman can handle them?”
“You don’t like Mr. Pullman, do you? Why not? He is quite an effective field agent.”
“He treats you like trash.”
“I have not said this before, but, well, John, this is my first field mission. Mr. Pullman argued my case most effectively to convince my superiors to give me this opportunity.”
Slocum snorted. Elena was more clever and daring than Josiah Pullman could ever be, even in his dreams. Memory of the shoddy disguise Pullman had used to gather information would give Slocum a good chuckle for years to come.