Slocum and the Big Horn Trail

by Jake Logan

  Frozen in place, she nodded. “You better eat first—”

  His hands cupped her firm breasts under the thin dress and he closed his eyes as he pressed against her firm butt. The sweet musk of her body filled his nose. The soft curly hair was in his face as he nibbled on her ear. Half-drunk with passion’s desire for her body, he knew she could feel his growing erection between them.

  She hunched her shoulders under him. “I guess there is more mush.” Then she began unbuttoning the dress. “You have greater needs than food—obvious—ly.”

  His hands soon squeezed the flesh of her pear-shaped breasts. His mouth worked on the smooth skin of her neck and he soon explored the slight swell of her belly, and she sucked in her breath when his fingers combed through her curly pubic hair.

  She led him to the bed and shrugged off the dress. Carefully, she laid it across a chair as he swiftly undressed. On her butt, she moved under the covers and soon lay on her back, her arms out to receive him as he climbed in with her. On his knees between her legs, he hauled the blankets over his back and then drove his rock-hard erection in her.

  With her legs wrapped around him, he sought the depth of her cavity and smiled. He never thought he’d ever have a smooth-skinned white woman in bed with him that was not repulsed by him being a breed. How many white whores had said they didn’t fuck Injuns and turned away from him? He remembered the haughty golden-haired one in Lost Camp who told him that and then stalked off. How he later caught her alone and put his knife to her throat, dragged her into a stall. Then he showed her how Indians raped such white bitches in the horse shit. But this was different—Alma was breathing hard with his every poke. Her head was tossing in pleasure and her eyes were glazed. And her rock-hard clit was scraping his shaft like a nail. This was better than all the rest. She was even contracting inside and raising her butt off the bed to meet his force. In the whirl of their heated fire, he felt himself coming and shoved his dick hard into her. She clutched him tight. He’d never came so hard—his balls shriveled and he came again and again.

  “What about the money?” she asked in a drunken slur.

  He raised himself on his stiff arms over her. “Who cares?”

  Then they both laughed as he dropped down and began feeding on her breasts.

  In the dawn’s weak light, Dog felt hungover from the night before with its fierce repeated copulations as he saddled the two thin bays and led them to the house. When they were hitched at the rack, he went inside to get the bedroll she’d made of her blankets. He nodded to her, took it outside, and put it on the horse she would ride. Then he took out her canvas war bag and hung it on the saddle.

  The only gun Snake and Tar Boy had overlooked was her small-caliber .25/20 Winchester repeater. A center-fire cartridge that would kill deer in close range and varmints, but not a long-range weapon. Still, it was better than a bow and arrow—besides, she had a new box of shells for it. He wondered how far they’d gone, Snake, Tar Boy, and Mia. No telling. He’d run them down. Not many places to spend that money between there and maybe Arizona.

  In a few minutes, she came out, closed the door. She wore a divided skirt, button-up Sunday shoes, and a black wool coat. Her reddish hair was tucked under a felt hat with a rawhide string to keep it on. She mounted and nodded tightlipped at him. Time to go.

  They had enough provisions not to starve if he shot some game. They simply needed to find those three—four, counting Snake’s Indian woman—if he hadn’t grown tired of her and left her for dead somewhere.

  The sun rose and shone on the blanket he used for a coat, but offered little heat. Their horses’ unshod hooves stirred up acrid-tasting dust. Dog could easy enough see the imprints of the two-day-old tracks headed southwesterly. The thin ponies he and she rode wouldn’t last many days of hard pushing. He needed to be on the lookout for others. Maybe they’d find some range horses—without money he’d have to steal them.

  The notion of being penniless only made him madder. Once or twice she rode in close and put her hand over on his leg, squeezed it, and smiled at him. He nodded his approval in return, but her slight caresses gave him an erection every time. He had not been this easy to arouse since he was a boy.

  Late that afternoon, they approached a small ranch and she said she knew these people.

  “Would they have better horses?”

  “I don’t know—”

  “Would they trust you to pay them later for them?”

  “If not—I have a gold ring.”

  He nodded, impressed that she would part with her gold ring for him. “They must be good horses to do that.”

  “I understand.”

  “What will they think—I mean about us?”

  She drew her shoulders back and frowned. “None of their damn business.”

  He chuckled and she smiled. “Isn’t it?” he asked.

  “No.”

  They rode on through the dark sagebrush and head-high junipers toward the low-roofed cabin and sun-bleached lodgepole corrals. No sign of his horses in the pens. Tar Boy and Snake weren’t here. The knowledge made him ride easier as some stock dogs came out barking to greet them.

  A woman with prematurely gray hair came out and used her hand to shade her eyes. Recognizing Alma, she smiled and nodded to Dog.

  “My lands, sister, what brings you over here?”

  “Well, Sister Ruth, two men robbed Red of his money. Have you seen them?”

  “A black and ah—Indian?”

  ‘Yes.” Alma dismounted.

  “They and two women rode wide of this place yesterday.”

  Alma nodded and turned to Dog, who agreed. “Those were the robbers,” she said.

  “Get down and come in.”

  “No, thanks, we must go on. You don’t have some good horses for sale, do you?”

  “No, but Sister Sarah Carnes has some.”

  Alma looked at Dog—he nodded his approval.

  “We’ll see her about them.” She hugged the woman and said something like bless you that Dog could barely hear.

  They rode off and left Sister Ruth behind waving after them.

  “What will she think?” he finally asked as they trotted westward at her directions.

  “She will think I am escaping.”

  “But with a breed?”

  “Indians are God’s special children.” She had to kick her horse hard to make him keep up so they could talk as they rode.

  “Where is this next one at?” He rose and surveyed the country. Lots of dry bunchgrass between the sage—not a bad country for cows.

  “Over at the base of that purple ridge. Too far out of our way?” She looked for his answer.

  “No, we need better horses so I can find the trail. Will they be better horses?”

  She nodded and didn’t look over at him.

  “What is wrong?” he demanded.

  With a pull on the reins, she set her horse down and he did the same.

  “There is something you aren’t telling me?” he asked.

  She held up her palm. “These horses may be stolen.”

  He began to laugh. Dropping his head, he stared at his own hands. She was worried he might not want them. Still amused, he booted the horse close to her and hugged her. “I have no fear of stolen horses if they are good ones.”

  “All right. You know.”

  It wasn’t bad to have her. She knew these people well and she was smart. Besides, he could hardly wait to get in bed with her again. If they managed to get their hands on some good horses—they could run those thieves down in a few days.

  They arrived at Sister Sarah Carnes’s place at sundown. The older woman was straight-backed and acted displeased that Alma had even brought Red Dog. Finally relenting after Alma talked to her, she used a candle lamp to show them the horses in a corral.

  Dog had no doubt the horses had been stolen when he first saw the five. There were two stout ranch horses out of them he liked, and he checked them close. They were sound enough as well as
in good flesh.

  “These,” he said to Alma.

  “Let me handle her.”

  He agreed. He’d have killed the old bitch and taken all five, but he didn’t want Alma upset—yet. Besides, he liked this white woman—she would be valuable when he got the money. What was St. David like? He’d never been in a place it never snowed. It snowed in Denver and in Cheyenne. They were way south. What did he know, squatted in his moccasins, his back against the corral rails? The women talked in low voices over by the gate.

  Soon Alma came and he stood up.

  “We can have the horses,” Alma said.

  “She want yours?”

  Alma nodded in the growing darkness. “I didn’t think we needed them anyway.”

  “The gold ring?”

  “Yes, that too and my milk cow.”

  “We’re not—”

  She pressed her finger to his lips. “She’s going back for the cow herself. I think we should take the horses and leave.”

  “Yes.” Damn, he wished he’d cut that gray-headed bitch’s throat. Now he’d have to buy Alma a new gold ring. He caught the two, a blue roan and a chestnut gelding. They’d catch up with Tar Boy and Snake in two days on these horses. Satisfied, he tied them and went for the other two. He switched saddles and gear while she went off with Sarah. They were ready to ride, and he stole some packets full of corn and hung them on the saddle horns to feed the horses later.

  Alma returned in the moonlight. “Why did you not come to the house?”

  “I can tell she dislikes Indians.”

  “So,” she said, and gave him some warm fresh bread with meat on it. “It would not have bothered you before.”

  “Before,” he said between bites, “I would have killed her and taken all the horses.”

  She nodded that she understood and looked hard at the feed bags on her saddle before she mounted.

  “She also gave us some feed,” he said, and laughed. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he shook his head. This woman of his had much to learn. That old biddy was no better than him—she sold stolen horses to desperate men. Was she better than a half-breed horse thief and stage robber? No.

  They rode off and made a camp an hour later.

  “When will we catch them?” she asked.

  “In two days on these horses,” he said, taking off the saddles as she spread out their blankets.

  “Good. Without a fire, we better get under the covers.”

  “Yes,” he said, feeling his dick grow hard for her.

  They left camp in the predawn, and by noon had picked up the thieves’ trail. The campfire ashes they found at noon were still warm from the night before. He nodded approval at her. They weren’t far from the thieves. They’d need to be careful from there on. Snake could be like smoke too.

  “Do you know this country?” he asked her.

  “There is a store south of here. You can buy whiskey there.”

  “How far?”

  She looked perplexed. “I’m not sure. I went there once in a wagon with Hiram to get supplies.”

  “No matter. They may be drunk there.” He chuckled to himself. Like bait for a rat, Snake could never resist whiskey. No need to worry about how Dog would slip up on him—that breed bastard would be drunk if he ever got his hands on a bottle.

  “What will we do?” she asked as they short-loped their horses.

  “Get our money back.”

  She nodded with a grim look at him and sent her roan to running harder. Three hours later, they held up in sight of the smoke from the chimney streaking the sky. Their hard-breathing sweaty horses bobbed their heads, heated up from the long run.

  He slipped off and handed her the reins. “Cool the horses,” he said, and slid the Winchester out of the scabbard. “I’ll slip up there and jump them.”

  “You need me?”

  He shook his head. “I can handle them. I’ll come for you when it’s over.”

  “I could help—”

  He put a finger on her lips and slowly shook his head. “I can handle this.”

  “Yes, but I will be worried about you.” Her blue eyes looked pained.

  He had never experienced such concern before over his well-being. The rifle raised over his head in a sign of defiance, he set out for the outpost in a jog. Using the broad junipers for cover, he zigzagged around the brushy evergreens until he could see the canvas-topped frame and false-front store. Stove smoke came from the rusty tin pipe stuck out of the back part of the structure’s roof.

  His horses were in a pen with packs on three of them. Maybe he had arrived in time. Crouched on his haunches, he tried to catch his breath and devise a plan to take the thieves. No doubt Snake and Tar Boy were inside the outpost—it was that backstabbing Mia he wondered about. He’d need to kill her first or she’d warn them.

  No telling where she was at. Maybe he’d wait until dark and take them when they were drunk and asleep. He got a whiff of campfire smoke and smiled. He’d find that traitor Mia, kill her, then he’d take the other two.

  He watched Mia, the fringe of her skirt whirling around her legs and arms as she busied herself making a meal at the campfire. There was no comparison between her body and that of the white woman. She had no breasts and did have a potbelly—besides, she never stirred when he fucked her. Never—endured him was all she did in bed.

  Someone shouted, “Run Mia!” Then Dog’s lights went out and he crashed facedown.

  15

  Slocum saw no smoke coming from the ranch house. A cow was bawling beside the corral. He stood in the stirrups for a better look around. Nothing. Were they too late? Had those three struck this place too?

  Out of habit, he shifted the holster on his right side and then shot a hard glance at Lilly. “Be careful, they still may be around.”

  “The corral gate is open,” she pointed out to him.

  “I can see it is. They’re still treacherous. Watch out for them.”

  Two sets of tracks from the corral went south. He dismounted to check and memorize them. A dozen brown hens ran over to join him as if he was a new source of feed.

  “I’ll check the house,” she said, and swung her mule in that direction.

  “Watch yourself,” he said, and walked around the barnyard, looking for any clues. Why only two sets of tracks? Didn’t make much sense. There were other prints, but they were older.

  “No one’s here,” she shouted from the house.

  Slocum studied the western sky. They were another day behind; the sun would soon set. “I’m coming after I unsaddle the mules.”

  “There’s food and plenty of firewood here,” she said loud enough to be heard.

  “Good, I’m starved,” he said, unlacing the latigos on One Ear. He pitched some hay for the mules, then went to the cabin with the bedroll on his shoulder.

  Inside, he looked around in the flickering candlelight. “I’d say the person lived here left with them.”

  “Or was murdered. There are two sets of used dishes on the table.”

  “I guess we won’t ever know unless they tell us. But this place was run by a woman, men aren’t this neat.”

  “I’d agree, but there’s no Bible here. There’s several books that indicated they read.” She nodded at the box shelves. “No Bible.”

  “Red Dog would never have stolen a Bible. Maybe they left to go see about someone or for supplies.”

  “I’m just relieved there is nobody here.” She stood with her hands gloved in white flour at the dry sink and nodded as if relieved over the matter. “Even the sourdough starter is here.”

  He went over and hugged her shoulder. “Yes, that is good after all the rest we’ve been through. Bedding off the bed is gone too. Big mystery.” He sighed deeply. “Tonight we have a roof over our heads anyway.”

  “There’s a bathtub too.”

  “Good. I’ll go draw some water from the well and we can heat it.”

  “Oh, that would be great,” she said, looking pleased.<
br />
  “No problem.” He found two canvas buckets and began the process of packing the water in from the wooden-framed well cover, using the pulley to drop the tin pail and let it sink and hoist it up over and over again. The large iron kettle that swung in the hearth over the crackling fire soon heated the water while they ate fried salt pork slices, brown beans, and sourdough biscuits smeared with real butter and chokecherry jam.

  His belly full, he leaned back in the chair. “Good food.”

  “I guess even out here they’d find you.”

  He nodded. “Someone would drop by and later he’d have a drink or two in some bar. Liquor would loosen his tongue. ‘You’ll never believe who I saw up in the Big Horns, my old captain from the war—Slocum.’”

  He nodded and continued. “Some barkeep down the way polishing glasses would telegraph Fort Scott, Kansas, the next day for the reward, and a pair of deputies would be on their way.”

  She wiped her mouth on a towel. “I see. It’s a total shame.”

  “That water should be getting warm,” he said to change the subject. “I’ll go take a long walk.”

  She wet her lips, shook her head, and looked hard at him. “We’ve shared beds. I thought tonight we’d share a bath.”

  “Your call.” He studied her smooth face in the candlelight. All the restraint he’d had because of her loss drained away, and the release warmed him.

  “I want it that way,” she said.

  He reached over and squeezed her hands. “So do I.”

  “I must sound very wanton.”

  “We aren’t here to judge. Two people thrown into the wilderness. Who can we hurt?”

  She looked relieved by his words. “You have a way, I am sure, with all the women, but I don’t really care. Tonight we will have each other.”

  He nodded and finished his last biscuit coated in chokecherry jam, and considered what the sleek body he’d slept with would feel like under his hands and mouth. This would be a breathtaking night. For the moment, he hoped he had the restraint to hold out until she was ready.