by Logan, Jake
The barber laughed and said, “Normally, I’d say yes. Things have been fairly loud recently.”
“Really? Why’s that?”
“Bunch’a men charged through here this very morning.” His wrinkled face scrunched into a series of deeper wrinkles as he studied Young closely. “One of them was about your size, I reckon.”
Young held up his hands and grinned. “You got me. Should I walk on over to the sheriff now or after I get a splash of something to make me smell good for the ladies?”
The old man laughed and reached for a glass bottle full of his cheapest cologne. “Didn’t mean to offend you, mister. Have a splash on the house. Though you won’t hardly need it if you go to the Dusty Hill Saloon.” He winked and said, “Just ask for Caroline. Sweet little blond thing who works there if you catch my meaning.”
“I think I do. What happened with these men that charged through town?” Since he wasn’t interested in a story he already knew, Young made it look as if he were listening just to let the old man get comfortable in his role as storyteller. When the barber paused to take a breath, Young asked, “Was one of those men named Jack Halsey?”
“Don’t know if I caught any names. I bet the sheriff knows, but he may be kinda busy since he just got back from riding on a posse.”
“You really keep abreast of current affairs.”
The barber didn’t have a hat, but he tapped a finger to his brow as if there was one there anyway. “Small town, you know. Anyone on Main Street saw that commotion.”
“Anyone else on Main Street who might know about who came through town?”
“You just curious or are you a friend of this Halsey fellow?”
“I’m a writer,” Young said with complete confidence that only a writer or a very good liar could attach to that statement. “Been riding through the territory looking for something worth selling to a newspaper. You point me in the right direction and I’ll be sure you get credit for it.”
“In print?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Mention my shop as well?”
“In black and white,” Young assured him.
“There was a fella who rode with the sheriff on that posse. Name’s Slocum, I believe. He was stayin’ at the Dusty Hill Saloon with one of the girls that works there. If he ain’t available to answer your questions, he may have spoken to someone else. Sheriff Reyes is pretty tight-lipped about official business.”
“Sounds like you know from experience.”
“Like I said before,” the barber replied. “Small town. Only news we get is what we can dredge up on our own. Fact is, I already been pestering the sheriff about what happened with the commotion and such, and if I pester him any more, he’s likely to get sore. A man in my position can’t afford to lose customers. Maybe you should just ask Dale at the saloon. Between him and those girls of his, there’s always someone watching what goes on around here.”
“Ain’t that always the case? Should have started there anyhow.” That was the truth, and if it hadn’t been for his need of a change in appearance, Young would have walked straight into the saloon to ask his questions.
“Will I still get that mention in print?”
“Yes, sir.”
It was only a matter of minutes before Young found himself in the Dusty Hill Saloon speaking to a sweet little blonde named Caroline. She wore a dark red dress that hugged her ample curves. A bright smile was framed by flowing gold hair. She obviously knew what she was doing when she brightened her smile even more, but Young kept his focus.
“I’ve heard of Jack Halsey,” she said. “One of the other girls here was staying with the man who rode with the sheriff and he told her all about him.”
“Did he mention where Jack’s staying?”
“I don’t know about that.”
“What about the man who rode with the sheriff?” Young asked. “What’s his name?”
She straightened up like a little girl who was proud to know the answer of a question posed by her favorite school teacher. The gesture caused her bosom to swell beneath the constraints of her corset as she replied, “John Slocum.”
“Maybe I should talk to this friend of yours. I really need to find Jack Halsey.”
“Last I saw him, he was with Mr. Slocum. They left town.”
“Where did they go?”
“I don’t know, but my friend does. I could ask her for you and then tell you everything she said.”
There was no question that there was a price attached to those actions. A woman in her line of work knew ten different ways to ask for money from a man, and they were all set up by a pretty smile and a lingering glimpse at pale cleavage or the flutter of eyelashes. Caroline showed him all of those things, and he was having a difficult time trying to find fault in it. “Why can’t I just talk to her?” he asked.
“Because she doesn’t know you,” Caroline said while stepping up close and running her fingertips along Young’s chest. Even though they stood at the corner of a bar in the middle of a saloon with just under half a dozen people inside, she had a way of making him feel as if they were alone in the most intimate of ways. “She knows me and will tell me things she wouldn’t tell you if you asked her the same questions.”
“How much will that cost me?”
“Ten dollars.”
In all honesty, Young had already found most of what he was after. There were probably plenty of reasons for him to hurry up and get back to Dan and Karl before this Jack Halsey fellow got away, but he couldn’t think of them while Caroline was pressing herself against him. In fact, he was having a hard time thinking of anything other than the soft little hand that was sliding over his belt buckle to brush against the front of his jeans.
“What will I get for twenty?” he asked while waving the bills in front of her.
Ten minutes later, he was in a room on the second floor of the saloon, stripped naked, and lying on his back. Caroline’s dress was on the floor, leaving her in nothing but black boots that laced all the way up to her knees. Her body was something out of a dream and felt even softer than he could have imagined when she climbed on top of him and straddled his hips. She smiled wide, reached between his legs, and stroked his cock until it was hard as stone.
“What did . . . you find out?” he asked.
“John Slocum is the name of the man who rode with Sheriff Reyes. He stopped by to collect his things and told her he was headed east with Jack Halsey.”
“East, huh?” Young asked, trying to make it seem like he was in charge of at least some of his faculties.
She didn’t buy the act for a moment. “That’s right,” she said while opening her legs so she could hold his cock steady while grinding her wet pussy against it. “Jack’s wounded. He may need a doctor, so that may slow them down. Mr. Slocum seemed to think they were headed into the Potrillos sooner or later.”
“I’ll have to ride hard to catch up to him, then. Probably shouldn’t stay here for too long.”
Caroline shifted herself forward and guided him into her. “Well then. I should ride hard, too, I suppose.”
Before he could say another word, Caroline lowered herself onto him and leaned forward to place her hands flat upon his chest. She rocked back and forth while pumping her hips insistently. Every time she took all of him inside, she let out a soft, contented sigh. Young reached out to grab on to her hips. They were smooth and warm against his palms, but her breasts felt even better when he cupped them in his hands. Whenever he pumped up into her, he felt her entire body respond. She even straightened her back in a way similar to how she’d caught his interest downstairs and clasped her hands over his to keep them in place as she rode him faster.
Young rubbed her hips and legs. She kept her hands on her breasts and even started rubbing them as if to make up for what she was missing now that his touch had wandered elsewhere. He thought about reaching for her again, but was enjoying himself too much just by watching her. Caroline’s eyes were closed as she continued
to massage herself. One of her hands remained pressed against a supple breast while another drifted between her legs. As she rode him slower, she began to rub the sensitive nub of flesh just above the spot where he entered her. Soon, Young felt her hand guiding his to that same spot.
“Here you go,” she whispered. “Right there. Nice and soft.”
The lips of her pussy were warm and moist as they glided up and down along his shaft. The spot where she urged him to touch her was even softer, and when his fingers found her clit, Caroline’s entire body trembled.
“Don’t stop,” she cried. “Don’t stop.”
He kept rubbing her until she clenched her eyes shut and tensed every muscle below her waist. When her climax passed, she opened her eyes and looked down at him as if he were a piece of raw meat. Young was taken aback for a second, but wasn’t about to protest as she picked up her pace once more. Caroline arched her back and slid her fingers through her hair while grinding her hips furiously against his. Every inch of his cock was driven into her again and again. Her breasts swayed as she built to a powerful rhythm. It was all Young could do to hang on and keep from being shoved off the bed as he grabbed on to her hips and thrust into her.
“Give it to me,” she cried. “Harder!”
Young had never had a woman take control that way and had certainly never had one talk to him like that. Just feeling her muscles tense beneath her skin as she rode him was enough to send him over the edge. His instincts told his body what to do, and soon he felt as if the rest of him was merely along for the ride.
Every time he pulled out of her, he ached to be inside again.
When he buried his cock between her legs, he couldn’t go deep enough.
The scent of Caroline’s skin and hair enveloped him. Her flesh had built up a sheen of sweat that made her naked body glisten in the light trickling in through the window. As if sensing how close he was, she took every inch of him into her and moved her hips in quick circles. At the perfect time, she pumped back and forth until he exploded inside her.
“God damn!” Young shouted.
She slowed like a toy that had wound all the way down. Leaning forward to lie on top of him, Caroline wriggled while using her hands to prop her head less than an inch above his face. “I take it that was worth your twenty dollars?”
His hands wandered along her hips and lingered on the curve of her ass. “Y . . . yes.”
“Good,” she said while climbing off him. “Then I’ll let you be on your way. Wouldn’t want your friend to get too far ahead of you.”
“Friend?”
“You know? Jack Halsey?”
“Right. Jack Halsey.”
He watched as she pulled on her dress and cinched herself into it. This wasn’t the first time he’d been with a whore. Those other times, he’d paid a lot less for a hell of a lot more time. Still, Caroline had a way of standing with her body displayed for him just right, squirming into her dress and primping herself as if it was all not only a show, but a show he would gladly pay to see again. He wanted to protest before she left him in that room. Wanted to demand some of his money back or at least some more of her time, but didn’t have the strength to stop her before she blew him a kiss and pranced out of the room.
Young found his second wind by the time he’d gotten dressed and stormed outside. There was a shapely woman with dark hair farther down the hall who cast a knowing smile in his direction while walking toward the stairs.
“Where’s Caroline?” he asked.
“Don’t know. Should I give her your best?”
Sighing, but not regretting the money he spent, Young said, “Yeah. You do that.”
Dan and Karl had made camp in roughly the same spot as Jack when he’d been bitten. Having found the ring of rocks where the fire had been made, they built another one so they could warm their hands as the sun’s glow faded from the desert sky. It was a bone-dry chill that sliced through flesh quicker than a wedge of sharpened steel. Since it would save a lot of work if Jack Halsey was close enough to spot the blaze and come sniffing around his old camp, Dan stoked the fire good and high. When he saw the rider approach from the direction of Rocas Rojas, he remained seated with his hands outstretched toward the crackling flames and waited for the rider to approach and dismount.
“You were gone long enough,” Karl said as he shifted upon a pile of flat stones. “Better have done more than have a few drinks and a shave.”
“I sure did,” Young said.
“Wipe that fuckin’ smile off yer face and give me a reason why I don’t fill a hole in this desert with a freshly scrubbed corpse.”
Young obliged on both counts, telling him everything he’d learned while in town. Even though he’d found out more than enough to complete the task he’d been given, he couldn’t help wondering if he was still about to be dropped into the grave Dan had mentioned.
“You’re sure about all of that?” Dan asked.
“You told me to ask around in that town and that’s what I heard. That ain’t good enough, then you can go ask yourself.” Although he’d attempted to make his voice sound imposing, Young knew he’d failed to impress.
“We found some tracks leading away from here. They lead to some rocks and then strike out to the east,” Dan said. “You reckon that’s them?”
“Two sets of tracks?”
Dan nodded.
“That’s gotta be them! What the hell are we wasting time here for? Let’s get a move on!”
Dan got to his feet and walked over to his horse. “Speaking of wasting time, if you fed me some bad information just to cover your ass, you’ll owe me the money I lost in letting this man get away.”
“Part of that money’s mine, too,” Young said. “I ain’t workin’ for free.”
“What about Oklahoma Bill? Did you catch sight of him?”
“No. Everything I heard said he was still locked up at the sheriff’s office. Probably waiting for a judge to conduct a trial.”
“And you’re sure nobody there knew who you was or who you were riding with?”
“Hell no, Dan. It was just like you said. Anyone who saw us was either too scared to look at my face real close or didn’t recognize me with my hair and clothes changed.”
“You’re sure about that? Because I’ve heard of John Slocum, and if he knows we’re comin’, this job could be a lot harder.”
“Trust me. If that sheriff knew about me or if anyone told him, he would’ve taken a run at me while I was in town.” Young knew that for certain because even a one-legged lawman would have been able to climb the stairs quickly enough to get the drop on him while he was pinned between Caroline’s legs. Of course, there was no reason to share that little bit of insight with Dan.
Going strictly by the scowl on Dan’s face, he already had a pretty good idea of what had occupied so much of Young’s time while he was in town. “All right, then. Stay on that horse because we’ve still got some riding to do.”
“Now?” Karl asked. “It’ll be dark soon.”
“Can you still see the ground?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you can see the tracks we already found.”
“He’s right, Dan,” Young said. “There’s a lot out here that can trip a horse up. Could be dangerous to ride much more than a mile or two.”
“You don’t have to tell me that. I been tracking since before you was born.” Shifting his attention back and forth between both other men, he added, “I know you men did plenty of work for Bill. He may have pulled in some good hauls, but he paid more attention to appearances and establishing a name for himself than doing a job properly.”
“Yeah,” Karl chuckled. “What kinda name is Oklahoma Bill anyhow?”
Completely disregarding Karl, Young said, “Bill was good for more than that. Plenty of people know his name, and that goes a long way no matter what sort of job it is that needs doing.”
“And it landed him in jail,” Dan said. “You know how many lawmen in Texas alon
e have heard of Oklahoma Bill Dressel? Enough to start a cattle drive. You know how many have heard of me? Five. Two of them are you, one is in jail, and the others are dead. You want to follow Bill and do things his way? March back into Rocas Rojas and turn yourself in to that sheriff. You want to follow me? Shut your damn mouths and ride. Now that we know we’re after the right man and that he did come back this way on his way to the Potrillos, we’ll follow the tracks we found and look for a campfire. Before first light, we ride to catch up to this man. We also know John Slocum is with him. He’s a killer, so be ready for a fight. Long as we know who we’re up against, what they’re after, and which way they’re headed, we got an edge.”
“You think that Italian fella is good for what he offered for this job?” Karl asked.
The smirk on Dan’s face was as rare as it was ugly. “He’s desperate to get whatever Halsey is carrying. He’ll either pay us double what he offered to get it, or we take it and cash it in for ourselves. Either way, we win.”
After that, all three men were ready to ride.
11
The Indians that had found them were Apache. Slocum could tell as much by the war paint on their faces, the way they handled their weapons, and the minimal amount of gear they had on their horses. Also, there was a silent ferocity that every Apache warrior possessed at birth that took most men a lifetime to acquire. Every one of the seven men escorting Slocum and Jack through the narrow mountain pass had that fierce look in his eyes. Jack was doing a good job of maintaining his composure, but it was clear he had the same concern as Slocum regarding their odds of making it out of those mountains alive.
“We didn’t try to fight you,” Slocum said.
None of the warriors responded. They’d descended like a rockslide, pouring down from higher ground on all sides. Arrows were notched in the bows of more riders who remained up high while the seven came down to collect them wielding tomahawks and thick clubs capped with stone. Some called those the weapons of barbarians. Slocum knew better than to write them off so easily. Mostly because the men who scoffed at Apache warriors had either never met one or died regretting their mistake.