Longarm and the Whiskey Woman

by Tabor Evans

  Longarm finished his lunch of fried pork and grits and canned tomatoes. He got up, nodded at the lady, and went out. The men would be in the house eating just about the time Sally would be in the cornfield. He went back to the cabin that he and Frank Carson had been using and sat down in one of the straight-backed chairs in front of the table. He poured half a glass of the only whiskey available, cut it with water, lit a cigarillo, and put his mind to the problems that lay ahead. He was not going to worry about what might happen with Frank Carson and the money wire. If Billy Vail fouled it up and gave him away to Frank Carson, he'd deal with that problem when it occurred. Mostly likely, it would involve shooting, and it would no longer be a question of doing his job but of staying alive.

  The main thing worrying him was that he could not quite picture at what point it would be timely to make the arrests. Money was going to have to change hands. If it changed hands while they were still on Colton's place, it could get as sticky as barbed wire. He decided that he would refuse to pay until he saw his whiskey loaded on the train. That way, he didn't believe there would be as many men with guns there, and he would have a getaway method, even though it would be a slow-moving freight train. The fact that Morton would probably be there, according to Asa, muddied the water somewhat. That put a personal grudge into the pot--a pot that didn't need any more ingredients in it. As far as Longarm could tell, he was in about the messiest situation he had ever been in. The people he was investigating and was going to arrest were of varying degrees of guilt. If he could lay his hands on the Treasury officials, he would be content with them. Them and Morton Colton and then the law in the town of Little Rock that had been taking the bribes. In his heart, he didn't feel that Asa Colton and his clan were all that guilty. Hell, he didn't see how anybody could be defrauded out of much with that grade of whiskey.

  Still, it was his job, and there were no two ways about it. The law was black and white; there were no gray areas.

  He was looking out the window of the cabin when he saw five or six men walk from one of the outbuildings and disappear into the house. He looked at his watch. It was two-thirty. It was, he decided, about time to go to the cornfield. He dreaded it. He knew it was wrong. He tried to argue with himself, but it was all to no avail. That black thatch that hid the pink, warm, moist flesh was too firmly imprinted in his mind. He could no more turn away from that than he could turn away from a meal if he was starving to death.

  He left the cabin, walking away from the big house and then circling south away from all the outbuildings. This time, he entered the cornfield at the opposite end from where he had gone in before. He walked as quietly as he could on the soft hay. The corn was tall enough now to shade him from the warm sun. It was a beautiful day, almost cloudless, but at an altitude where there was a very pleasant cool breeze. He crept along the rows, glancing left and right, not sure which row he had been in with Sally. He caught a little flash of color through the green stalks. He walked on another ten or twenty yards and then cut across. As soon as he stepped into the row, he glanced to the left.

  He saw her lying on her back, her dress up and her legs apart, just as she had said. He had left his gun belt back in the cabin. All he had to do now was unbuckle his jeans and unbutton them and he'd be ready. He walked toward her. She raised her head slightly and looked at him. It was just as he remembered. The creamy white of her inner thighs, the black bush, just enough of her soft belly--she had taken her bodice down so that her breasts were standing erect and thrusting. He knew that they were as firm as pears. She made little waving motions at him to hurry as he came toward her.

  He got to her and then stood looking down at her for a moment, saliva coming fresh and fast to his mouth. He dropped down to his knees and then put his face down to taste her. She was already warm and moist. She made a moan and then thrust her hips up as his tongue explored the inside of her, brushing away the silken hairs with the slightest motion. Already, he could hear her quickened breath.

  She said, urgently, "Now. Now. Now."

  He entered her, his penis sliding deep, deep, and deeper into her. She clung and gripped him. He leaned down on her, kissing her breasts, and then clasped his mouth onto hers. She was thrusting her hips so hard upward that he almost didn't have to move. He knew this time that he wasn't going to be able to hold it.

  He was pulling his mouth back from hers to say, "Honey, I've got to hold up a minute," but by the time he could say it, it was too late. He could feel the juices pumping into her with big, throbbing ejaculations.

  Then he went weak and collapsed. He tried to whisper in her ear. He said, "I'm sorry. I couldn't help it."

  She just crooned to him and smoothed his hair and said, "That be all right. I understand. I choose you. There'll be plenty of other times."

  When he could, he raised himself up and pulled on his jeans and buckled his belt and fastened the buttons. He looked down at her. She was wearing that same solemn but tender expression. He said, "Sally, I couldn't help myself. I've been thinking about you all day. I was just too ready."

  She pulled herself up and then stood up and then leaned down and put one of her breasts in his mouth and then the other. She kissed him on the mouth, her tongue probing. She said, "There'll be another time, right quick. I can stand it until then."

  "Honey, this is dangerous. Sally, we can't keep doing this. There's too many people around here. They'll catch us."

  "Don't you worry. I done chose you. You just be ready when I come there. You just be ready." Then she was gone, as quickly as before, slipping between the stalks of corn and then disappearing.

  For a moment, he stayed where he was. If anything, he was more confused than he had been earlier. He could not imagine how he was going to arrest the father of such a girl as Sally. After a while, he shook his head and walked slowly out of the cornfield. As he emerged into the clear, he glanced toward the house. He saw a figure out near one of the barns. He couldn't recognize the man, but he looked a great deal like either Mark or John. He chose not to invite a confrontation or questions, so he veered to the south and walked around the outbuildings toward his cabin. If it had been Mark, he would have questions. Longarm was just going to answer him that he was interested in the kind of corn they used in their whiskey. It wouldn't be a very good answer, because Longarm knew as much about corn as he did about living in New York City.

  But his biggest fear was about the kind of man he reckoned Mark to be. If there came a confrontation between them, Longarm doubted that it would be settled with words, and if he had to kill Mark Colton, he was fairly certain that would put an end to his investigation into the illegal whiskey business. The best he could hope to do was somehow stay out of the way of the man and his wrath. Mark had made it clear that he didn't care much for Longarm, that he was suspicious, that he was on the prod. Longarm had to admit to himself that the man had good instincts. He was suspicious for good reason.

  That night, Sally sat across the table from him at supper and never glanced his way. He could see and sense Mark watching the two of them. He wished for a change that she would look at him. This sudden reversal of habit had to tell Mark something.

  He tried to carry it off as best as he could by talking to Asa about the whiskey business and about how much he could cut the strong, raw whiskey and still make a decent corn bourbon. It was Asa's belief that he could take the distilled liquor and turn it into twice as much. The old man, however, was curious as to just how Longarm was going to get around the federal whiskey stamps. Longarm just tried to look wise and pretend that he had a way. He said, "A lot of empty whiskey bottles in Arizona, Mr. Colton. You'd be surprised how many saloon owners I know."

  Colton chuckled. He said, "Well, Mr. Long, it might surprise you that I wouldn't be surprised that you would know a good many saloon owners. You look like a man who could be found in one, every now and then."

  After supper, Longarm played checkers with the man for a couple of hours, finding him a surprisingly good player. Th
ey were playing for a dollar a game, and the old man had managed to win fourteen dollars off Longarm. Mr. Colton said, "Aw, shucks. You're just lettin' me win so I'll sell you some whiskey. I've already told you I'll sell you the whiskey. You don't just got to give up." Then he giggled like it was all a good joke.

  Longarm had gone to his cabin about nine o'clock, wishing that Frank Carson would hurry back. For a couple of hours, he did nothing more than think about the situation, smoke cigarillos, and drink a little of the snake-killer whiskey. He didn't believe he had ever seen a quart jar of whiskey that was so hard to empty in all his life. It had been sitting on the cabin table for three days and three nights, and even with a little help from Frank Carson, it was still not even two-thirds empty.

  He finally turned in at about eleven o'clock, but didn't sleep with his usual deep pleasure. The situation he was in kept turning over and over in his mind with a detail popping up here or another detail popping up there. All in all, it was more than one man's mind could handle at a time.

  Then, some few hours later, he came awake with the knowledge that the door had been opened. He was too groggy and not quick enough to see who it was before he heard the door being softly closed. Without seeming to move, he slipped his hand under his pillow and grasped the butt of his revolver. By then, his eyes had adjusted, and he saw a small, slim figure coming to his bedside. He saw that it was Sally, and he let go of the handle of his gun. She was standing there, not quite a foot in front of him in some kind of a white robe. She whispered, "Honey, you awake? Honey. I'm here."

  He whispered, "Sally, what in hell are you doing? You're going to get us both killed."

  She was already taking off her robe. He could see clearly enough now that the breath caught in his throat at the sight of her white beauty. The black thatch stood out even more vividly against her light skin and the rosettes of the nipples of her breasts were clearly distinct. With a soft rustle, she let the robe fall to the floor and then she was crawling into the bed with him. Before he could speak again, she had put her arms around his head and pulled his face to hers, kissing him passionately. He could not stop his hands from roaming over her body, slipping down between her legs, coming up to the soft, warm vagina. His finger went into her, almost as if it had a mind of its own. He felt her shiver and gasp and the passion of her kisses increased. She pulled her head away from his only long enough to whisper flirtingly in his ear, "I couldn't wait no longer. I was plum on fire."

  As best as he could, he said, "Sally, honey, Mark is suspicious of me as it is. He's likely to have followed you."

  She said, "I don't care. I done chose you. I want you."

  "Sally, this can't be," he said.

  "You're like a gift that got sent to me. You can't believe how hungry I've been, and there ain't nobody around here. It's so seldom for me. They hold me down. Daddy don't think anybody's good enough for me, and I get to hurting. I need it. I've got to have it."

  With a sigh, Longarm resigned himself to the inevitable. He couldn't much blame her, because he had cut her off short that afternoon. He knew how that felt, to get up a good head of steam and then have the train jump the tracks. He didn't blame her. He started to kiss her with the same fever that she had been kissing him. He pulled the covers back so that he could see her clearly. He began kissing her on the throat and then began working his way down, taking one breast into his mouth and then the other. He was down to her softly rounded little belly when the door suddenly came open with a crash. Longarm jumped and looked.

  There, standing in the doorway with the night sky behind him, was Mark Colton.

  He had a shotgun in his hand and that shotgun was pointed straight at the bed. Longarm could see another man behind him, also with a shotgun. He couldn't tell who it was, but he figured it was Mark's brother, John.

  Mark Colton said, cold rage in his voice, "Sally, get your ass out of that bed! Get your clothes on and get on out of here!"

  Sally sat up. She said, "Mark, you get your ass out of here! This ain't none of your affair. Now, both of you-all get out!"

  Colton said, "Sally, this is a double-barreled, double-triggered shotgun full of double-ought buckshot. I'm about to pull both triggers at the same time. You don't want to be in that bed."

  Longarm had the revolver out of sight. He had slipped it down under the covers so that he could have actually fired at Colton without the man ever knowing that he held a gun, but he held his fire. He would give it a half a moment to make certain Colton wasn't going to shoot. Maybe they could talk.

  He said to Sally, "Honey, you'd better do what he says. He's as mad as hell and he's liable to do anything."

  She said, "I don't care what he says or what he does. I done chose you. It ain't none of his affair, and he knows it. John, you better get him out of here, or I'm going to tell Daddy."

  From behind Mark, Longarm could hear the other brother say, "Sally, it would be best if you got up and got dressed and went on in the house. We're going to go in and see Daddy. In fact, you wake him up and tell him to come on in the kitchen. We'll talk this out."

  Sally said, "Well, Mark had better not shoot him, because he's the one I chose. If he does, I'll cut his throat one dark night."

  "Mark ain't gonna shoot no one, but we are going to go in and talk to Daddy."

  She turned and looked back at Longarm. He stared back at her wonderingly. She said, "Now, don't you be a-feared. That big bully Mark ain't gonna do nothing. Daddy would have his hide if he shot you here in a bed that Daddy had given you to sleep in."

  Longarm said, "Well, that's damned hospitable of Daddy. I just hope Mark understands the rules."

  Mark said in an outraged voice, "Dammit, I ain't gonna wait much longer. Get out of that bed, Sally."

  She said, "I'm naked. You ain't supposed to see me when I'm naked. You're my brother. You get out of that door and then I'll get dressed."

  Mark said, "Yeah, and that son of a bitch will have a gun in his hand if I back out the door."

  Longarm said quietly, "Mark, I've already got a gun in my hand under the cover. Would you like me to shoot you square in the chest to prove it?"

  "You be a-lyin'."

  For answer, Longarm cocked the revolver. In the quiet of the night, it made a deadly sound as the hammer came back into a firing position.

  "Look there, Sally. He's holding a gun on me," said Mark.

  "Serves you right, bustin' in on us like this. Now, you get on out of here and shut that door, and I'll get dressed."

  From behind, John said, "Step back, Mark, and pull the door to. We've got to talk this over with Daddy. This ain't your business to decide."

  Longarm said, "Don't you reckon it's a little bit of Sally's business to decide, too?"

  Mark said, "Hell, she ain't nothing but a damned girl." But he stepped back, pulling the door half closed.

  Longarm said to Sally, "Honey, you better get your robe on and go on back in the house. Let's get a chance to talk to your daddy about this. All right?"

  She gave him a quick kiss and then slipped out of the bed and put on her robe. In another instant, she had flitted out the door. As she went out, Mark stepped back through. Longarm came out from under the covers with his revolver. He said to the angry brother, "I've got to get dressed, too, Mark, and I don't particularly care for you watching me, either. Now, you just step back unless you want to play 'Let's both get killed.' I can shoot you dead before you can pull the triggers on that shotgun, I promise you. Now, get on out of here and I'll get dressed and be out there in three or four minutes."

  The brother's voice was furious. He said, "All right, damn you, you son of a bitch. We're going to get this matter settled."

  "Just get the hell out of here!"

  Once again, Mark backed out through the door, pulling it to behind him. He yelled, "But I'll be waiting right out here, and there ain't no other way for you to go."

  With a sigh, Longarm got up out of bed and began pulling on his jeans, shirt, and boots. The whole m
ess just seemed to get more and more and more complicated.

  CHAPTER 8

  They were all seated at the kitchen table when Longarm arrived. With the exception of old man Colton, they were all dressed, even Sally. Longarm wondered how she had managed to get into her clothes so quickly. He reckoned, though, looking at her and looking at the shape of her breasts underneath the thin dress, she hadn't bothered much with underwear.

  The old man was wearing a long, woolen nightshirt. Even at such a quick moment, he had somehow managed to get a cut of tobacco stuffed into his jaw and was spitting into a tin can as Longarm walked into the kitchen. Longarm wondered if maybe he didn't sleep with a cud in his mouth.

  Except for Sally, they all stared at him as he walked into the kitchen and took a chair just to Asa Colton's right. He said, with no trace of sarcasm, "Good morning, everybody. We're up a little early, aren't we?"

  Asa Colton spat again and said, "Now, sir. I want to get to the bottom of this business and see what it's all about."

  Mark jerked his thumb at Longarm. He said, "Daddy, it ain't about nothing. It's plain and simple. We caught this son of a bitch in bed with Sally. The son of a bitch was fixing to do things to her. She was nekkid and so was he."

  The old man chewed slowly for a moment. He said, "You done told me that. Now, I want to hear how it came about." He turned his head and looked over at Longarm. "What's your version of the situation, young fellow?"

  Longarm shook his head, keeping his eyes carefully off of Sally. He said, "I've got nothing to say, Mr. Colton, except your sons, at least this one..." and he jerked his thumb equally as viciously at Mark, "... busted into a place I was given to sleep in as a guest. Busted in with that shotgun that he's holding so lovingly in his hands. No, I've got nothing to say."

  Mark half rose. "Well, I've got a bunch to say, and I'd like to do my talkin' with this!" He picked up the shotgun from where it rested on the table and slipped his finger inside the trigger guard. He said, "The son of a bitch was with my baby sister. What are we gonna do about it, Pa?"