by Jake Logan
Tessa finally pulled back on the reins and stopped the horse. She went around the wagon, rapped twice on the door, and said, “I forgot the password, John. Let me in.”
Slocum relaxed his grip and the woman flowed into the back of the wagon like water over rock. She turned and dropped onto his bedroll, then yelped. She lifted herself off the blanket, reached under her, and came up with his six-shooter.
“You have strange bed companions, John.”
He took it from her and put it aside.
“How strange are you?” he asked.
“As strange as you want,” Tessa said, lying back. She reached up and began unbuttoning her dress until she could shrug her shoulders and get out of it. In the dim light filtering through cracks in the wagon, Slocum saw she was stripped to the waist. Her breasts seemed to glow with an inner light that drew him powerfully.
Reaching out, he took each soft mound in a hand and squeezed down. He was rewarded with a soft moan of pleasure.
“You know what I want, John. I didn’t think you had gone around the bend.”
He leaned over and lightly kissed one nipple. She arched her back and thrust her breast up into his face. He opened his lips enough to take more of the succulent mound of tit flesh into his mouth. His tongue worked fiercely on her nipple until it was rock hard and pulsing with need.
“That makes me so excited,” she moaned out. Her fingers ran through his hair, holding his head down to her bosom. He lightly nipped at the rubbery tip and brought a cry of delight to her lips. She relaxed her hold on his head for a moment, allowing him to move quickly to her other quivering mound. He engulfed it with his mouth and sampled the taste before moving lower.
“Oh, oh!” Tessa squirmed as he licked down the deep valley between her breasts to her heaving belly. As he kissed and tongued, he ran his hands down low to her legs and then up under her skirt to get it out of the way. His hands met only sleek, warm flesh—no undergarments.
This made Slocum harder by the second as he worked around to the inside of her thighs and then parted them. Rocking up and moving on his knees, he knelt between her wide-spread legs. He looked down into her eyes. Her eyelids had half-closed and the expression on her face was one of sheer raw desire.
“Let me,” she said. Tessa struggled up and got her hands onto his waist. It took her a while to unbutton his fly and let his erection come sailing free, but it was worth the wait. Her fingers closed around his hardness and drew him forward and down.
“There,” she said, holding the purpled knob of his cock against her nether lips. “I want it there.” Her voice had turned husky.
The feel of her fingers on him and the nearness of her heated core drove Slocum onward. He caught himself on his hands on either side of her body as he stroked forward. For a moment, he thought he was going to have to work harder. Then she shifted her hips and he sank balls-deep into her tightness.
They both gasped then. For a moment, Slocum hung suspended, then recovered his senses enough to draw back gradually. The wetness and heat surrounding him almost robbed him of his control. He entered her again, this time more slowly, relishing the feel of her most intimate flesh against his length. When he was again fully within her, she squeezed down with her strong inner muscles.
“You’re so big,” she sobbed out. She clung to his arms and began thrashing about under him. The movement, the tightness, the heat all lit the fuse within Slocum. He began moving with more power and speed until friction threatened to burn him to a nubbin.
She cried and moaned as he moved still faster until there was no turning back for him. The fire within his loins erupted. He arched his back and tried to split her in half, only to find she was writhing about beneath him, lost in her own wonderland of ecstasy.
Spent, Slocum sank forward until his weight pressed Tessa down to the wagon floor. She did not object. She began kissing his ear and stroking over his back.
Finally, he raised up and said, “People will wonder what we’re doing in the wagon. We should go outside. Or you should. It’d be best for me to stay inside.”
“Who cares what the people think? I’ve—” Tessa bit off her words and focused on him. “You’re right, John. You’d better stay out of sight until we’re sure the Texas Rangers have left town.”
“The way you invited them to the revival means every last one of them will be here.”
“What are you saying? That I might have flirted a little too much with them?”
“Something like that. It’s one way to get a crowd, but I don’t want them around.”
“Really?” She grinned wickedly. “Afraid of a little competition?” She reached down between them and took his limp organ in her hand and began massaging it. Only a twitch or two rewarded her effort. “You don’t have to worry about them. You did just fine.”
Tessa scooted about and began getting back into her dress. Slocum sat on a box and buttoned himself up, then hefted his six-shooter.
“You don’t have to use that on me,” she said, her eyes sparkling.
“Let me know if the Rangers are outside. I hear a crowd already starting to gather.”
“Oh, no, it’s late!” she cried. “Papa will kill me if I don’t get to work!”
With that, Tessa Whitmore slid past Slocum, gave him a quick kiss, then popped out of the wagon and went to work calling to those who were beginning to assemble. Slocum wondered what she considered her work to be, then settled down, six-gun in his hand, to listen to Preacher Dan’s impassioned sermon that began fifteen minutes later.
All Slocum prayed for was the departure of the Texas Rangers from Bitter Springs.
5
The crowd dispersed after sundown. Slocum poked his head out to be sure the coast was clear, then dropped to the ground and walked around the wagon to where Preacher Dan and his daughter huddled together, splitting the take after passing the hat. Whitmore looked up and grinned from ear to ear.
“You bring us good luck, Jethro.”
“John,” Tessa said. “His name’s John.”
“That doesn’t matter a whole lot,” Preacher Dan said airily. “He’s lucky, no matter what he calls himself.”
“You see the Rangers anywhere in the crowd?” Slocum directed the question to Tessa, but Preacher Dan answered.
“Might have been one early on, but he drifted away before I got down to the serious preaching. From what I heard, the whole lot of them left for Sidewinder. There’s been a sighting of Victorio, and the Rangers are trying to get the jump on the cavalry out of Fort Davis. Whoever captures that red devil will bask in the veritable light of public adoration for a whole long time.”
“Bask in the light,” muttered Slocum, shaking his head. “Highfalutin words that don’t mean a thing if you get an Apache arrow in your back.”
“Such is the sorry fate of too many defenders of the public safety,” Preacher Dan said pompously. He laughed and added, “It’s more lucrative defending the public morals.” A thick sheaf of greenbacks protruded from his coat pocket.
“Looks as if you’ve found your calling.” Slocum turned to Tessa, who smiled angelically. He remembered the afternoon with her in the wagon when she was more than a tad devilish. That was the woman he preferred, though he wasn’t going to tell her pa that.
“We’re leaving the wagon parked here overnight. Tessa and I have rooms in the fine hotel. You’re welcome to sleep inside the wagon.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Slocum said, knowing his usual place in the stables was likely to be a dangerous one if the Texas Rangers returned and stabled their horses. “I can watch over your belongings.”
“Do that,” Preacher Dan said a little uneasily. He extended his arm to his daughter and said, “Come along, Tessa. We must go preach some Gospel at the nearest place that serves a nice, big juicy steak.”
“Papa, don’t you think John could join us? We could pay.”
Slocum saw the idea of him joining them for dinner was less worrisome to Preacher Dan than hav
ing to pay for it. He quickly assured her it would not be a good idea with the Rangers nosing around.
“This town supplies a considerable amount of goods for Fort Suddereth, too,” Preacher Dan told Slocum. “Be careful if you explore. The sergeant you ran afoul of on the road might be here picking up this or that or ordering flour and the like.”
Slocum nodded in agreement. The two walked off arm in arm. A momentary pang almost made Slocum call out and ask to join them. He had plenty of money, and it was burning a hole in his pocket. Touching the thick wad in his shirt pocket reassured him it was still waiting to be spent. Then he pushed aside any notion of doing that right now. Going to a saloon was foolhardy since that was the exact place a soldier or Ranger was most likely to be.
After making certain the wagon was secure, he walked to the edge of town and looked down the main street. Bitter Springs was much larger than Sidewinder, with a bank and three saloons and more businesses than he could shake a stick at. Sure that most of the town had either gone home or was gathered in the saloons, Slocum began a slow circuit to get the lay of the land. He felt immediately boxed in.
Sidewinder had been in the saddle between two mesas. Bitter Springs was similarly located, though there was only one mesa rising about a hundred feet above the rooftops of the tallest buildings. On the other side, a sheer cliff poked straight up and prevented Bitter Springs from expanding any way but along the rocky face. The tracks in the dirt told Slocum a considerable amount of freight came into the town every week. The ruts were deep, and the road well traveled.
He wandered about until he came to the hotel. Two windows were lit by lamps burning in the rooms. Slocum considered seeing if one of those might be Tessa’s and if she’d waited up for him. As he watched, one light winked out. He stared at the other until it, too, was extinguished. Resigned to his lonely fate, Slocum turned back to the wagon and crawled inside, spread out his bedroll, and went to sleep thinking of Tessa.
His dreams eventually turned to less pleasant things. Texas Rangers shooting at him. Dead cavalry troopers. And a deadly, ghostly presence floating all around, always out of sight but nonetheless menacing. By the time he woke the next morning, he was already soaked in sweat. He was sitting cross-legged when Tessa opened the door and let in the heat from outside. Even in the middle of the mountains, summer in Texas was stifling.
“Come on, sleepyhead,” she said brightly. “I need you to accompany me.”
“Where?” Slocum reached for his six-shooter, but she shook her head.
“I need an escort to the bank. It’s only across the street.”
“If you’ve got the money from yesterday . . .” he began. His hand rested on his six-shooter. He felt vulnerable without it, and if Tessa wanted him to guard the money her pa had raised at yesterday’s revival meeting, the gun would go further as a deterrence than his mere presence.
“It will be fine,” Tessa finished for him. “Come along. The bank is just now opening its doors.”
Slocum reluctantly left his gun belt behind in the wagon and hurried to catch up with Tessa. She was already halfway across the street and paying him little attention, as befitting a preacher’s daughter with her pa’s handyman. Slocum reached the bank in time to open the door for her.
“Should I wait outside, ma’am?” he asked.
Her eyebrows arched in surprise and she shook her head, then patted a stray lock of dark hair back into place as she brushed past him into the bank.
Slocum saw the tellers all look up when Tessa entered. A man behind a low railing hurried out to greet her.
“Good morning,” Tessa said pleasantly. “Are you the banker I must see to open an account?”
Slocum stepped to the side and let the bank president make his introductions.
“I am so pleased you wish to do business with my bank. My name’s Morton Thompson. Please, come this way and let’s talk.” Thompson ushered Tessa behind the railing to a chair in front of his large oak desk.
Slocum paid less attention to her and the bank president than he did to the safe behind them. It loomed large and black, made out of cast iron. The lock and handles were sturdy, but Slocum knew a few sticks of dynamite would blow off the door. Its weight prevented anyone from making away with it. Slocum bent over and tried to peer under the safe. It sat flat against what appeared to be a brick floor. If there had been legs, Slocum would have considered tipping the safe over and attacking it through the bottom. This made it impossible to do. For all he knew, there were bolts fastened to the safe and fixed into the floor.
Dynamite, he decided, was the best way to get into the safe if you were so inclined and did not have the combination.
He jerked his attention away from a robbery he would never commit to focus on what Tessa was saying.
“My father is so taken with this town, its people, its generosity, that he has decided to build a church here. A regular ministry would afford spiritual guidance for more than the few who could attend the services given by an itinerant preacher.”
“A new church, eh? That will take a considerable amount of money. Bitter Springs is a boomtown and building materials are scarce. Scarcity means added expense.”
“We know that, Mr. Thompson. We have a small deposit to start our church building fund. Can you accept such a small amount?” Tessa pulled out a thick wad of bills from her purse. Both Slocum and Thompson stared at the money. The bank president recovered quickly.
“I am sure we can deal with this sum, Miss Whitmore.” Thompson took the money and counted it, then counted it once more before looking up with eyes wide. “This is a few dollars shy of a thousand.”
“My father will want only the finest church for the people of Bitter Springs,” she said sweetly. “If we deposit this, might we arrange for a building loan?”
“Of course,” Thompson said without thinking. Then his banker’s instincts came to the fore. “How much are we talking about?”
Slocum saw greed bring a slight flush to the banker’s face when Tessa told him, “Five thousand more.”
“The source of revenue will be from tithing?”
“Donations, tithing, services, although those will be smaller amounts.”
“Services?”
“Weddings, funerals,” Tessa said offhandedly. “We certainly hope there will be far more weddings—and baptisms—than funerals.”
“Of course, that’s what we all wish. Now, Miss Whitmore, let’s fill out some paperwork and—”
Slocum ignored the rest of what Morton Thompson had to say. He was busy once more studying the building, how it was constructed, ways to rob the bank. If Thompson could promise so much money to a church building fund, he had to have a considerable amount more locked in his safe.
Slocum turned suddenly when the front door opened and three heavily armed men walked in. Slocum reached for his six-shooter and found only empty hip. Then he saw how the tellers greeted the trio. These were bank guards arriving late for work. He considered asking how often the guards were late. If he intended to rob the bank, it would have to be done prior to the guards’ arrival in the morning.
He smiled just a little. He had no way of robbing the bank. The safe was secure, the guards were numerous, and he was all alone. Beyond this, he had plenty of money in his pocket. Still, it paid to keep his skills sharp and his mind active and on the lookout for opportunity.
Tessa rose, extended her hand, and presented it to Mort Thompson. For a moment, Slocum wondered if the man was going to shake her hand or kiss it. The bank president decided on shaking it, but he held on for a mite too long. Tessa did not seem to mind as she flirted outrageously with him. Then she pulled free. Slocum opened the gate in the railing for her, and followed her outside into the bright Texas sunlight.
He squinted as they crossed the street, then ducked behind the wagon as a squad of soldiers rode in from the north.
“There’s no need to worry, John,” she said. “The boys in blue aren’t looking for you.”
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p; Slocum saw she was right, and she had not even given the soldiers a second glance. Somehow, she had taken it all in without breaking stride.
“They’re depositing money in the bank to pay for Fort Suddereth’s purchases. There will also be a considerable sum in gold to cover the fort’s payroll.”
He looked at her, wondering how she knew all this. She and her pa had just arrived in Bitter Springs. Rather than ask, he said nothing. He watched the soldiers intently as they dismounted and positioned themselves around the bank, two at each corner and three around back. In a few minutes, a heavily laden wagon arrived carrying four more alert soldiers. They drew up in front of the bank and hopped down. The driver and his assistant worked to unload heavy cases from the wagon while the others watched eagle-eyed as citizens passed by.
“Why do they use a bank in Bitter Springs rather than going on to the fort?” he asked.
“Politics. Mr. Thompson is a personal friend of the governor of this fine state. Keeping army payrolls, even for a short while, is a lucrative proposition for any bank.” She laughed softly. “And for any banker. Our Mr. Thompson is quite the wheeler-dealer.”
“You saying he uses the money for something other than paying army accounts?”
“Now, how could I possibly know such a thing, John?” She touched his cheek, then turned to leave. She stopped and did not look back at him as she said, “You would do well to find something to occupy your time. I do not recommend pursuing Demon Rum. It will be the death of you.”
“You make it sound like I’m a drunkard,” Slocum said.
“Gin mills can be dangerous places.”
Slocum’s rumbling belly told him he ought to get something to eat. Where better than the free lunch at a saloon? And where better than a saloon to overhear gossip? He felt currents flowing through Bitter Springs that he could not explain. His eyes going to the bank across the street ignited old hungers in him. In spite of the heavy safe and guards, the reward for breaking into that bank would be great. Moreover, he was already being chased by both the Texas Rangers and the cavalry. How many more lawmen could get on his trail? So many hunted him now, any more would bump into each other.