Mary Sue’s sixth sense told her Ferdie was hiding something from her. She could not resist a secret. “Come on Ferdie, ‘fess up. You’ve got a secret, don’t you? Come on; tell me what’s going on. You know I can’t stand secrets.”
Ferdie laughed, turned and pulled on his pants. Bending to the wash basin, he splashed water on his face and arms. He reached for a towel, and Mary Sue slipped up behind him. She pressed her naked body against his, rubbing her hands sensuously across his chest, grinding her hips lewdly into his buttocks. He was so short and thin, she so tall and wide, her breasts pressed out on each side of his face. He could see them both in the mirror. She moved her right hand around in his pants, and he knew he would bend to her will. He would just have to be late for his meeting.
Mary Sue maneuvered Ferdie to a side chair by the window in her oversized room, sat him down and kneeled. “Tell me a secret,” she whispered as she opened his pants. “Tell me a secret, and I’ll make you feel so good you’ll never want to leave.”
Ferdie looked down at her, felt the heat of desire pulse through his groin. There was no way he could stop her now. She snuggled in his thighs, played circles with her tongue, finally eased down on him, all the while looking up to watch the expression on his face. Between breaths, she whispered, “Tell me a secret.”
When able to breath normally again, he told her everything. He told her everything as if it were all perfectly normal—just business as usual on the frontier and the grand tableau of Texas politics.
* * *
Mary Sue rarely took stock of her life, for what was done was done. Don’t fret, she told herself. Tomorrow will be totally new. But she did fret. Now, Ferdie Lance had just thrashed her lazy conscience and walked away as easily as one might take a breath. His casual depiction of Kinch West’s attack on the train, the mortal wounding of a federal judge, his plan to kill the two federal marshals who were searching for him, had left her feeling empty. Ferdie told the story in such a matter-of-fact manner, she was sure he had no comprehension of how vile it all was. There was no question now, of the meaning of his words during the night.
You’ve done it again, Mary Sue. Hooked up with a no good murderin’ rat. He’d just as soon kill women and children or fine men as breathe. It means nothing to him, absolutely nothing. Sooner or later, you’ll mean nothing to him either, just like Foss Scroggs.
Mary Sue stood before the dresser mirror, wiped her tears away and stared. Mercifully, Ferdie had left before she’d lost control.
She reached to her waist and pinched a fold of skin.
Still firm. She lifted her breasts. Also, still firm. She knew she had the body of a classic nude model. Not thin, not fat. Fecund, someone once said. Ripe and fertile, ready for motherhood. But she knew she would never be a mother. Years of trying with any number of men had convinced her. She was barren. But she was capable of love, tender, beautiful and passionate. She just needed to find the right man.
One day he would appear, and she would know it instantly. In the meantime, there was Dixie Lee Potts. The only person with whom she had ever been able to express tenderness and passion and have it returned in full. It was Friday. Dixie always came in on Friday. Mary Sue felt a thrill as she thought of her first encounter with Dixie, the way the woman had looked at her, the subtle way further meetings were engineered, finally the dressing room. Her careless touch, feather light on Dixie’s breasts as they discussed fittings and tried on different delicate things. The end of the beginning, the desperate embrace when pretense gave way to passion. They met regularly now, always careful and always in Mary Sue’s room above the boutique. No one knew of this, not Ferdie Lance, and not Dixie’s husband, Yancy. That was the way they intended to keep it.
For both of them, Friday was a day of release. Release from the pressures of unhappy relationships, release from the pressures of work, release from the fear of an uncertain future.
CHAPTER 33
Mary Sue had to admit, Dixie Lee Potts was an amazing woman. Her family had owned a small ranch several miles from Fredericksburg, but little else. They’d eked out a living raising peaches they sold in Austin, and fodder they sold to cattle ranchers along the Pedernales River. Her father was a self styled minister without congregation. Hell and damnation had been Dixie’s daily bread.
Dixie Lee had known from an early age she had little hope of improving her life or station in the stuffy community of Fredericksburg. The people, especially the orthodox Lutheran ministers, had no use for her or her family. The cliquish German social world was closed to outsiders, secure within its own artificial barriers.
Although Dixie had been snubbed at school, treated shabbily by teachers who refused to speak English to her, she was loved by the boys. By her own admission, she’d been free and easy with her favors, to spite the other snobs. She’d probably still be doing it if Yancy Potts had not come along. He wasn’t much of a catch, she’d told Mary Sue, but he had money and a powerful position. Best of all, he’d promised her freedom. Freedom to do anything she might want, as long as she did it with discretion. She hadn’t understood at first, but as time went by, she came to realize she was his front; someone to deflect attention away from his own activities.
Both of them were satisfied with the relationship, and since Dixie was in charge of the family’s considerable finances, she answered to no one when it came to spending money. And spend it she did. On one occasion, she gave Mary Sue a tip of one hundred dollars, in addition to the sizable sum she’d paid for the dress she’d bought. The money made Mary Sue feel strange, like she was nothing more than a whore, but she’d accepted it. In a way, it had eased her mind. When the time came to break up, which must happen sooner or later, the exchange of money would make it easier for both of them.
* * *
Mary Sue was arranging a mannequin for display in her small shop when a tall man walked in the door. He looked around sheepishly. Men did not usually come into the boutique, and as Mary Sue looked up, she was utterly stunned. This man was the most beautiful person she had ever seen. He was tall, with a medium to dark complexion, short jet black hair, a classic Roman nose, and deep black piercing eyes. His perfectly tailored black suit was obviously new, as were his polished calf-high boots. A silver studded cartridge belt worn high at his waist held a single pearl handled revolver just obvious behind the left cut of the waist coat. The man did not appear comfortable.
Gathering her wits, Mary Sue addressed the man in a somewhat shaky voice. “Yes, sir? May I help you?”
Edson did not reply. His tongue was tied. He gazed around at the various mannequins, bolts of lacy material and displays of lingerie and formal dresses. For a moment, he considered a quick exit. This was no place for a United States Deputy Marshal, but he had agreed with Jack’s suggestion, they should buy something nice for Lydia.
They had searched Austin for several days, looking everywhere for a trace of Ferdie Lance. Now, they’d decided to lay back. To see if any of their contacts could alert them to Ferdie’s presence. Edson had found himself with time to shop, and upon the advice of the hotel bellman, he had come to Le Boutique de Paris. Edson looked down, shifted nervously, and then looked directly at the saleslady. His voice felt weak and shaky. “I’d like to, uh—buy a nice—nightdress, as a present for a lady.”
Mary Sue considered his response for a moment. She slowly removed the cloth measuring tape from around her neck and tossed it onto the sales counter. “Do you think that wise, sir? Items of lingerie are usually purchased by the woman herself. As a present, I don’t think it would be appropriate, unless of course the person is to be your wife. Even then you run a chance of embarrassing her.”
Edson turned half away, glanced out the window, and then turned back. “Well, I never thought of that, but somehow I don’t think she would be embarrassed. She seems the type to face everything head on.”
“Seems? If I may be so bold, sir, how long have you known the lady in question? Is she your fiancée?”
“My what?”
“Your fiancée, the lady you intend to marry?”
“Oh—well, no—she’s the friend of a friend of mine. He’s not able to shop for her himself.”
Edson moved from foot to foot. He looked down, put his boot toe on a mannequin stand, as if testing its structural integrity. It fell over. He grasped at it but missed.
He looked up sheepishly. “I’m sorry.”
Mary Sue smiled. She righted the mannequin and waved for him to continue.
“I’ve only known her a few weeks, actually. But, we, uh—anyway—they seem to have been hit by the—uh, thunderbolt,
and are going to be seeing each other.”
“Oh, the thunderbolt! I see, well, I guess that’s it then. The thunderbolt never fails.”
She had not heard the expression, thunderbolt, for many years, and to hear it now from this lovely man, as if it explained everything, tickled her. She came close to laughing, but quickly decided that would not be profitable. The more she talked to him the more determined she became. She would have this man one way or another, maybe sooner, maybe later, or—maybe right now. She stepped closer and looked up, smiling.
“Well, good looking. This might take some time. My name is Mary Sue, what’s yours?”
CHAPTER 34
“Well, Mr. Smith, perhaps I should just start showing you what we have.” Mary Sue turned back towards a rack full of lacy looking lingerie. “If you have time, you can look at everything.”
“Oh, I have time.” Edson recognized the subtle hungry look in Mary Sue’s eyes. He’d been so embarrassed, he’d not quickly grasped the woman might have something on her mind. He looked her up and down. She was a head shorter than he, tall for a woman. Her light yellowish hair was nicely taken up in a bun, as befit a woman working in a ladies’ boutique. The shapely, though slightly plump body reminded him of a painting he’d once seen over a bar in Dallas. The painting showed a smiling woman lying nude on a large table surrounded by grapes and other fruit, which were being fed to her by a pair of little children with wings on their backs.
“Where should we begin?”
“Over here, I think.” Mary Sue reached into the rack of lingerie. “These items are nightdresses, but we will need to know the lady’s size. Do you know it?”
Edson shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Uh … no, I don’t.”
Mary Sue placed her hands on her hips. “Well, how tall is she?”
“Uhmm,—let’s see, I’d say she was about to your chin in height, but a little bit—smaller about the waist.”
Even as he said it, Edson knew he’d made a mistake. One simply does not imply a woman is less than petite. He was surprised at the woman’s response.
Mary Sue chuckled. “A little wisp of a thing, then? Your friend will have to be careful not to hurt the poor child on their wedding night.”
Mary Sue moved closer and casually rubbed up against Edson’s side. She walked her fingers slowly up his arm. “Some of these itty-bitty girls just can’t handle a real man.”
Turning back toward the rack, she picked out a lacy lavender article and handed it to him. “Here, this should fit. It’s just her size, but maybe you’d like for me to model it for you first?”
Edson’s mouth fell open. “Wha—what?”
“I’d be happy to do it for you. It’ll only take a minute. Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll be right out.”
Mary Sue casually locked the front door, closed the curtains, and then turned to go into a room behind the counter.
“I don’t really—” Edson stammered in a half-hearted attempt to slow things down. But it was too late. She was gone, so he sat down on one of the frilly little white ironwork chairs provided for the comfort of customers and twiddled his thumbs.
After a few minutes, Mary Sue swished slowly back into the room. She wore the nightdress, a full size too small for her, and nothing else. The flimsy, transparent thing barely covered her breasts. She bounced jauntily as she approached.
“There. What do think? Is the color right?”
Her voice was husky, dripping with lust. “I think it might be a little long.” She lifted the hem, inch by inch, to expose her thighs. Edson looked up, then back down to her thighs. He cleared his throat. “Actually, I think the length is about right.”
Mary Sue laughed, grabbed Edson by the arm and led him into the back room, up the stairway to the second floor.
* * *
Dixie Lee Potts entered the boutique with her own key. She looked around to see if there were any other customers about. Seeing none, she latched the door and proceeded into the back room. She was confused. There had always been someone here when she came in. Now the place looked empty.
Walking up the back stairs to Mary Sue’s room, Dixie paused to look around. The large mirror on the hallway wall reflected her image, which caught her attention as it always did. Although her glossy black hair was perfectly coifed, she nevertheless tickled a hair or two in place. She admired herself, batted her light brown eyes in mock seduction. Her lips were unusually full and accented perfectly straight, white teeth. Today, her lip rouge was a soft pink, designed to match the pink of her dress. Her cheeks were lightly powdered, but not overly so. Dixie Lee Potts needed little make up. She was one of the most naturally beautiful women in Austin.
Turning from the mirror, she again scanned the hallway. Assuming Mary Sue had stepped out for a few minutes; she casually opened the door and walked in.
Mary Sue was at that moment unable to talk. Spasms of pleasure coursed through her body so powerfully she’d thought for a moment even her legs would cramp. She kept her position, riding Edson and looking up at the ceiling as the spasms diminished.
Edson turned his head, his eyes meeting the gaze of the beautiful woman at the door, but he was unable to respond. The woman’s face became flushed—with passion or anger he could not tell—but she did not leave. She stared, her breasts heaving.
Finally, breathless and exhausted, the two lovers disengaged themselves and turned to face the door. The woman still stood, saying nothing, but Edson could see now, the look was of desire.
Mary Sue saw it too. She slowly swung her legs to the floor. Dixie did not move as Mary Sue walked to her, took her hand, and led her back to the bed.
The rest of the day was incredible. Edson had never experienced anything like it in his life. Dixie Lee Potts proved herself to be every bit as passionate as Mary Sue. The two of them did things to him he had never before experienced. Most incredible of all, as she’d walked out the door, Dixie handed Edson a hundred dollar bill. Edson was dumbfounded. He held the bill in his hand, turned and looked back at Mary Sue as she lay on the bed.
Mary Sue smiled. “Keep it. You’ve earned every penny. Don’t try to figure Dixie Lee Potts. She does crazy things sometimes. I think it makes her feel good. Anyway, its good spendable money. If you want to earn more, you just keep on coming back on Fridays. We’re always here, but you’d better not tell. If Ferdie found out, you’d be in big trouble.”
Edson’s head snapped around. “Ferdie? Who’s Ferdie?”
“Ferdie Lance is who. He’s probably the most dangerous man in these parts, not counting Kinch West.”
Edson’s heart began to pound.
Mary Sue smiled at him, shifted to lean on one elbow. “Not to worry, handsome. Ferdie won’t find out. He comes here every now and then, but he won’t be back for several days. I never know when he’ll come, but it’s always at night, never in the daytime. And, by the way, you haven’t told me your real name. It certainly isn’t Smith.”
Edson balked. He’d learned over the years it was not a good idea to give his real name when fooling around with a strange woman. Now that he knew Mary Sue was connected to Ferdie Lance, he had an even more compelling reason to keep his identity secret.
“I’m not sure I should. If you don’t know it, you can’t rat me out to old Ferdie now, can you?”
Mary Sue’s face suggested mil
d disappointment, pique maybe. “Well, I guess not. But you should at least tell me your real first name, because I want to see more of you, and I’ve got to be able to identify you in my mind.”
“If you insist, but first I want you to tell me more about this Ferdie fellow. If I’m in any danger, I want to know what I’m up against.” Edson sat down on the bed next to Mary Sue and began to nibble her left ear. Her hand began to explore him again.
“Come on, beautiful lady, tell me a secret. Tell me a secret and I will guarantee you a fine time, anytime, all the time.”
He maneuvered her back onto the pillows, nibbled his way to her navel, kissed his way down to her thighs. He knew what to do to make her crazy. He’d just been taught by Dixie Lee Potts, who had insisted on everything being done exactly right.
The story Mary Sue told was incredible. She seemed compelled, as if anxious to rid herself of terrible knowledge. She confirmed everything they knew of Ferdie Lance—and more. He worked for Governor Davis. The plot to kill Mobley was still in effect. Ferdie would come here when he needed sleep or a place to hole up.
Edson pulled up his pants, straightened himself and turned to leave. He turned, looked at Mary Sue sprawled on the bed. “The name’s Red,—Red Jones.”
CHAPTER 35
Jack took his time getting dressed. He admired the look of the man staring back at him from the dresser mirror. For the first time in his life he looked like a gentleman, a man of means. He wore a starched high collared white shirt with mother of pearl buttons to the neck, a crisply pressed, perfectly tailored black frock coat suit with pants hemmed straight to the break of his polished, knee high, soft leather boots.
He picked up his new .45 Colt’s cartridge pistol and shoved it into his belt, admiring the heft and balance of the weapon as he did so. The barrel was not as long as his old cap and ball, but whatever disadvantage that posed in accuracy, if any, was easily made up by the ease with which the new pistol could be reloaded. He adjusted it to fit loosely for comfort, and then slowly turned around, looking back over his shoulder.
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