by Jake Logan
A small group had gathered in front of the Ole Miss Wheelhouse. Upon seeing Slocum emerge from the doorway across the street, that group commenced to chattering among themselves at a furious pace. He wasn’t about to join them, but since they were in front of the hotel he couldn’t exactly avoid them. It was a blessing for him when Slocum caught a glimpse of Sykes standing well away from the gossips, waving furiously to catch his attention.
After nodding at Sykes to get him to stop waving, Slocum walked slowly toward the hotel. He made sure to look as many of the gossips directly in the eyes as he could before scattering them like birds from a bush when he casually rested his hand on the holstered Colt at his side. Once there wasn’t much of anyone left to watch where he was going, Slocum changed direction and walked down the street.
It wasn’t long before he heard Sykes whispering, “Over here.”
Sykes had moved to a different spot, but he wasn’t trying to hide. After Slocum chose a post at the corner of the boardwalk, he leaned against it and fished a cigarette from his shirt pocket. By the time he struck a match against the weathered post, Sykes and Corrington were close enough for their faces to catch the flickering light.
“I trust the two of you are unscathed,” Slocum said.
Corrington sputtered something that made him sound like a faulty steam valve.
“Just some ruffled feathers,” Sykes told him. “What about you?”
“I was able to sneak up on that rifleman. Turns out he’s—”
“Mike Harper,” Corrington said. He then clamped his lips shut and nervously glanced around as if speaking that name in the open was enough to summon the devil himself.
Clenching his teeth around the cigarette almost hard enough to snip all the way through it, Slocum asked, “You know him?”
Corrington nodded nervously. “I was telling Mr. Sykes about him.”
“Well go on and tell John. He’ll want to hear.”
“He came to the event I planned for the release of one of my books. See, I figured I’d try to make a commotion about the releases instead of just letting them go out and do their best unannounced. I find it gives them more of a . . .” Catching the impatient glare that was boiling within Slocum’s eyes, Corrington cleared his throat and said, “I’ve been doing a lot of traveling, hosting several of these events, and Mike Harper has been showing up at more and more of them. Every time, he talks to me at length about my works as if he thinks they’re factual accounts.”
“Would you imagine that?” Slocum said sarcastically. “I bet that didn’t work out too well for you.”
“It most certainly did not,” Corrington replied. “When he told me he was resigning from his job as a telegraph clerk to become a bounty hunter, I merely thought he was telling me a story. When he came back wearing a gun and saying he’d devoted his life to hunting down the men in my books, I became worried. That’s when my editor insisted on hiring men to come along with me for protection.”
“Why didn’t you just stop all this gallivanting around?”
Corrington drew a sharp breath as if he’d just gotten stabbed through the chest. “Stop spreading the word about my books?”
“If it means staying out of the sights of men like Harper? Yeah.”
“Do you know how difficult it is to make a living writing those books? Only now after my parties and appearances have I been making a real name for myself. I’ve never seen profit like this!”
“And you may not see much of anything,” Slocum pointed out, “if Harper gets you killed.”
“I think he was trying to protect me. Once I have a word with him, rationally of course, I can more than likely convince him of his error in coming after you men.”
“Rational,” Sykes muttered. “I’m sure that’s exactly what Harper is.”
Despite the unmistakable nature of Sykes’s barbed comment, Corrington didn’t take much notice of it. Instead, he started walking toward the Ole Miss and then sharply came to a halt. “Is it safe to return, John?”
“As safe as it’s ever going to be for us,” Slocum replied.
Once again, Corrington either missed or decided to ignore the real meaning being conveyed and strolled along the side of the street as if he was just out to fill his lungs with some cool night air.
“He ain’t right in the head, is he?” Sykes asked.
“Haven’t you read any of those books?”
“I see your point. I suppose I should stay with him. If anyone’s gonna be able to set Harper straight or at least put him off our tails, it’d be him.”
Slocum reached out to grab Sykes’s elbow and kept him from getting too far away. “It’s not just Harper we need to worry about,” he said in a voice that was quiet enough to remain mostly between them. “He was with another gunman that crossed my path in Chicago.”
“Who is he?”
“Just some pimp with a mean streak, but he’s armed and doesn’t mind spilling blood. If he’s here, I’m guessing his partner is as well. That one’s a younger fella who’ll probably bolt once the going gets tough.”
“I take it you ran afoul of these two somehow?” Sykes asked.
“You could say that. I called them out in front of the whole city, whipped them in a place they’d staked out as their own, and watched as their friend was gunned down.”
“You killed their friend?”
“No,” Slocum replied, “but I doubt they’re willing to overlook that part.”
Sykes slapped his hands together and strutted after Corrington. “Just when I think we got this bronco roped, it just keeps on kickin’!”
18
Slocum sat in his room, weighing his options.
On one hand, he could see this thing through and make sure that Harper didn’t get away with the trespasses he’d already made and that James would be denied the bragging rights he’d earn by chasing down John Slocum and living to tell the tale. On the other hand, Sykes had a point. Just when he thought this whole affair was about to be finished, something else came along to spur it along. Nobody was forcing Slocum to stay. In fact, he’d been planning on heading out west, where the land felt more open and a man could watch the sunsets while troubles from his past melted away. That’s the line of reasoning that filled so many wagon trains and boomtowns, after all.
It was also the kind of reasoning that allowed men like James and Harper to build themselves up as soon as someone like Slocum lowered his guard.
Just thinking about those two stoked the fire in Slocum’s belly. Walking away was too damn close to throwing his hands up and letting them win. James would probably get a thrill out of that and use it to put a fright into his working girls or anyone who tried to entice them away from him. Harper wasn’t the sort who would let the matter drop, though. As far as that went, neither was Slocum.
Outlaws had to see the matter through because they worked like a pack of wolves. A sign of weakness from one was akin to baring his throat to an anxious male looking to take the pack for himself. The life Slocum led put him in a similar circumstance. If young gunhands looking to make a name for themselves thought he was an easy mark, they would keep coming.
On a more personal note, Slocum had simply been pushed too far to let it go. No matter how morally right it might have been to take the high road and walk away, he simply wouldn’t have been able to look himself in a mirror again knowing he’d rolled over for the likes of Michael Harper.
“God damn it,” he snarled as he grabbed the bottle of whiskey he’d brought with him all the way from Chicago.
Sitting in that room, he felt like he was hiding.
Slocum knew that wasn’t the case, but he wanted to charge out, pull Harper from wherever he was keeping himself, and pound his face into mush for all the shots he’d taken at him. Somehow, finding out that Harper was unhinged made matters even worse. Slocum may not have liked or respected bounty hunters, but he knew what was going through their minds when they went after someone. A man who was touched in the head di
dn’t need a reason to start something, and he probably wouldn’t stop until he was dead. It also meant such a man could be unpredictable enough to get ahead of any man thinking along straight lines.
Now that Slocum knew what he was dealing with, he could act accordingly. “All right then,” he said while sloshing the remaining whiskey around in its bottle. “You want a hunt? That’s what you’ll get. Come hunt me down and see what happens.”
When someone knocked on his door, Slocum nearly dropped his whiskey. He sat in his chair with his feet still propped on the bed, staring at the door as though he’d been caught red-handed after a robbery.
The knock came again, but was harder and a little quicker.
“Yeah?” Slocum grunted.
“Mr. Slocum?”
“That’s right.”
“Could you open the door please?”
From what he’d heard, Slocum could tell two things. The person on the other side of that door was a woman, and she was in a hurry. He drew his gun and approached the door, careful not to stand directly in front of it. Men like Harper and especially James weren’t above shooting some holes through a closed door just to win their fight.
“What do you want?” Slocum asked through the wooden barrier.
Lowering her voice a bit, she replied, “I’d rather not discuss it in the hallway.”
Slocum opened the door just enough to get a look at Jessica standing in front of him. The moment she saw his face, she showed him an anxious smile and said, “Please let me in.”
Slocum stepped aside without a word so she could hurry into his room. She was in a different dress than she’d been wearing earlier that night at Corrington’s table. Instead of the expensive-looking velvet number, she was now wrapped in black lace and silk that clung to her upper body like a second skin and blossomed nicely at the hips, without the need of a bustle.
“So what’s the big hurry?” he asked. “Did someone tell you a writer was in here?”
“Not hardly. I was told you were in here. Looks like my sources were right.”
Slocum didn’t even bother asking about her sources. If there was yet another person keeping track of his every move, he didn’t want to hear about it. Holding out the bottle, he asked, “Care for a drink? You might want to take it before it’s all gone.”
“No,” she replied while gliding up to stand close enough to press her firm breasts against him. “That’s not why I came here.”
“Don’t tell me Corrington sent you.”
She laughed under her breath at that. “He writes about a lot of exciting things. I read every single one of his books. Even though other women look at me funny for reading them instead of Shakespeare or whatever other high-minded garbage they think will make them look smart. I prefer to read about exciting men. The sort of men Eddie always writes about.” Lowering her eyes to drink in the sight of him while her hands roamed freely over Slocum’s chest, she said, “But you’re the real thing aren’t you, Mr. Slocum? Just like in Eddie’s books?”
Until now, Slocum had gotten nothing but grief for being the subject of that yellowback trash. So if a very nice little perk to being in those books was going to come along, he wasn’t about to turn his nose up at it. Slocum holstered his gun so he could put both of his hands on Jessica’s hips.
“That’s right, miss,” he told her. “Just like in those books.”
She lapped that up like a dish of warm milk. Her fingers curled so her nails dragged against his chest as she slid her hands down to his belt. While unbuckling it, she looked into his eyes and then lunged forward to plant a hard kiss on his lips. Slocum barely had a chance to catch his breath before Jessica chewed on his bottom lip and pulled his jeans down just far enough for her to get her hand into them.
“Just as I imagined when I read about you,” she whispered. His cock was growing hard in her grasp, and she stroked it until it ached to be in her.
Slocum grabbed her by the arms and pulled her dress down off her shoulders to bare her breasts. She arched her back and let out a moan when he cupped her tits and massaged them until her nipples were just as hard as what she had in her hand.
“I’ve been thinking about this ever since Six-Gun Devil.”
Normally, hearing the title of that book would have clawed at Slocum’s patience and twisted his guts into a knot. But when Jessica mentioned it, she was also lowering herself to her knees and tugging his jeans all the way down to his ankles. Her lips wrapped around his rigid pole and her tongue slid along its entire length as she sucked him from base to tip. Looking up at him, she held him in her hand and said, “Sit on the bed.”
He was happy to comply. Along the way, he shed most of his clothes and kicked off his boots. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Slocum watched as she stood up and peeled off her dress to reveal a body that was even better than he’d imagined. Her hips were small and her stomach was flat. Jessica’s breasts were plump and pendulous, swaying perfectly as she stepped up to the bed and knelt in front of him.
Her hands slid beneath her tits, cupping them while teasing her nipples with the occasional fingertip. Leaning forward, she placed Slocum’s cock between her breasts and started moving up and down. “You like that?” she asked.
Slocum grabbed her and held onto her breasts so they wrapped tighter around him. Her skin was soft and warm, but not nearly as warm as where he wanted to be.
“Get up here,” he told her.
“So strong and demanding,” she sighed as she climbed onto the bed and straddled him. When Slocum leaned back, she mounted his cock and impaled herself on it. Jessica’s hand lingered between her legs, massaging the sensitive nub of flesh just above the spot where he entered her. “God, this is just as good as I imagined.”
Once she settled so her breasts were brushing against his chest, Slocum wrapped his arms around her and said, “It’s about to get a whole lot better.” With that, he began pumping up into her in strong, solid movements.
Every time he buried his cock between her legs, Jessica gasped and moaned. Slocum only did that a few more times before he began to stay inside for only seconds, then slowly ease back out. After she’d caught her breath, Jessica placed her hands flat on his chest and gathered her legs beneath her body so she was squatting on top of him.
“My turn,” she said as she began moving straight up and down.
The muscles in her legs were like iron, and she rode him without any sign of letting up. Jessica threw her head back and started to shudder once she found just the right way to move. Eventually, she settled on top of him so he was all the way inside and began pumping her hips furiously back and forth.
Slocum grabbed onto her hips, but he wasn’t about to do anything that might break her stride. She was doing just fine on her own. In fact, the intense pleasure on her face was quite a sight. When she climaxed, her eyes snapped open and her hands pressed down hard against Slocum’s chest. Her legs closed tightly on either side of his body and she let out a soft moan that could barely be heard.
He could feel when her storm had passed, which was when Slocum rolled her onto her back and settled in between her thighs. She spread her legs open wide for him and accepted his rigid cock gratefully. Slocum ran his hand along one of her muscled legs and was glad to feel her lift it up for him. That little shift allowed him to drive even deeper into her with every stroke.
Kneeling between her legs, Slocum cupped her ass and hung on as he thrust in and out of her. When he leaned forward again, both of his hands settled on her breasts so he could knead the soft mounds as he built to his own climax. He lay on top of her, took her hands, and pinned them to the bed, so Jessica’s arms were stretched up over her head. She lay there as if she was chained to a wall, watching him with excited eyes and wriggling her body in time to his movements.
The sight of her beneath him was almost enough to push Slocum over the edge. Jessica’s breasts shook with the impact of his body against hers. Her hair was a wild mess splayed out under her head, and even wh
en he moved his hands down to massage the front of her body, she kept her arms stretched in the spot where he’d placed them. Jessica writhed contentedly, giving in to the next wave of pleasure to wash through her. When Slocum exploded inside of her, she gasped and moaned. Before he could move away, she ground her hips against him, straining for every last second she could get out of him.
He stayed where he was for as long as he could. Finally, he had to collapse on the bed next to her. “You’re gonna wear me down to the bone,” he said.
Lying on her side, Jessica rubbed his chest and told him, “I haven’t had enough of you yet.”
“Well, this’ll have to do until I catch my breath.”
She was obviously disappointed, but she nestled against him.
After a little bit of sleep, Slocum awoke to find her naked body still curled up beside him. She’d flipped over onto her other side, so she was now facing away. When she stirred, her smooth rump brushed against his groin. If she’d meant to arouse him, she’d done a hell of a good job. If the timing of her movement had just been a happy accident, well Slocum was fine with that as well.
“What are you doing?” she asked sleepily.
Slocum’s hand moved over her side, down to her hip, and then back up again before reaching around to rub her breasts. When he teased her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, it grew hard right away. “Would you rather I go back to sleep?” he asked.
“Not at all.” She lifted one leg up and back so it was resting on Slocum’s hip. Then Jessica positioned herself so she could reach down and guide him between her thighs.
At first, Slocum didn’t think he could get to her. But with a few more subtle shifts of Jessica’s body, he soon felt the warm dampness of her pussy against his hard pole. She made a soft purring sound as she showed him the way inside. Slocum pumped into her, feeling a whole new set of pleasures as he entered her from that angle. And he wasn’t the only one to be worked up so quickly. Jessica’s entire body shook in a matter of minutes, as a series of little orgasms pulsed through her one after the other. Slocum couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt a woman do that. Rather than question it, he held onto her and thrust into her again and again.