Slocum's Revenge Trail

by Jake Logan

“It’s over for Townsend,” Slocum said. “It ain’t over for me.”

  “Cash?”

  “I’m going after him,” Slocum said. “It’s his fault I killed that kid. He won’t get away with it.”

  “When will you go?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I’d have left already, except for the hanging. I wasn’t in the mood. I guess I’ll get drunk and then sleep it off. Then I’ll go looking for him.”

  Honey Pot stood up and dragged her chair around the table. Then she sat down again right next to Slocum. She put an arm around his shoulders and pulled his head down on her breast. He didn’t fight it. It felt good there on that soft but firm titty as it rose and fell with her breathing.

  “You’re a good man, John Slocum,” she said. “Too good for these parts, these times.”

  “I don’t know about that,” he said.

  “Damn sight too good for the likes of me.”

  Slocum thought about Julie Townsend. She would be thrilled at the news about Bob Amos. He lifted his head up and leaned in to kiss Honey Pot. He kissed her tenderly, like a lover, not like a customer. Then he pulled her head down onto his chest and held her close.

  “Don’t ever say that,” he told her. “You’re as good as anyone. Better than some I can think of.”

  He had not wanted this, but in spite of himself, he felt a stirring in his loins. Just then, she turned her head, and he kissed her again. This time, the kiss was long, lingering, passionate. Their lips parted, and their tongues dueled. Slocum embraced her tightly, and her own fingers dug into his back. At last they broke apart, and Honey Pot stood up. She started to loosen her bodice. Slocum sat still, watching her as she slipped out of her dress. He reached out both hands and pressed them against her lovely heaving tits. Her mouth opened, and she breathed deeply.

  He stood up then and started to undress himself. They finished at about the same time, and then they moved together. They stood, naked, embracing, kissing, their hands roaming around over each other’s bodies. At last, Honey Pot broke away. She crawled onto the bed, and as she did, Slocum admired her round ass cheeks and the tuft of hair that he could see just below them. In the middle of the mattress, she turned and lay down on her back, allowing her legs to flop apart casually, reaching her arms up to invite him in. Slocum’s rod stood up.

  He moved in on her, allowed his weight to press down on her body, feeling the intense pleasure of her touch all the way up and down. As he kissed her again, she reached with both hands for his cock and balls. She held them and fondled them, marveling at the length and stiffness of the thing, and then she guided it deftly into her waiting, wet hole.

  “Ah,” Slocum moaned as he slid into her depths. He drove in all the way, and Honey Pot bucked up underneath, making sure that she had it all, that it was rammed in fully. They pressed hard against one another for a long moment. Then Slocum began to withdraw. He was about ready to slip out before he shoved it in again, slowly, savoring the intense feeling all along the way. He did that again and again, and gradually built up speed. Soon he was ramming himself in and out of her, and she was bucking and humping underneath.

  “Oh, God, oh, God,” she said. “Fuck me, Slocum. Fuck me good.”

  He humped harder and faster, his own torso slapping against hers with each thrust as she rose to meet him. He pressed his lips against hers. Their mouths opened as they seemed to try to devour one another. Suddenly, Slocum pulled out. She was startled for an instant, until he reached for her waist and turned her over. Immediately, she pulled her knees up under her, thrusting her ass toward him. He probed from behind for her slippery cunt, and she once again reached back between her legs to grip the hard cock and guide it home.

  Slocum began driving hard again, and she responded. He could see her lovely tits jiggle underneath her as their bodies smacked together, and it was lovely to watch her ass cheeks jounce as he smashed into them over and over again. Then, all at once, he felt the intense pressure build up in his balls. He humped faster, desperate now for release. Then it came. He spurted into her, again and again. With each thrust, he shot another load deep into her channel.

  “Oh, God, I feel it,” she said. “I can feel your come.”

  At last he was done. On his knees behind her, he stopped still, panting. He was spent. His cock slowly lost its hardness. It shriveled inside her until it slipped out. Slocum fell over sideways, landing on his back beside her. She leaned over to kiss him, and slowly lay down, her breasts on his chest, the rest of her lying beside him.

  “That was just too good,” she said.

  “You can say that again for me,” said Slocum.

  Then they lay side by side, quiet, catching their breath, for some time, neither one needing to say anything, neither one worrying about the time. At last, Honey Pot rose up slowly. She moved to the table where a bowl of water waited, and she dipped a towel into the water, then wrung it out. Moving back to the bed, she sat down and began washing him off. She lingered over the job for a long time, and Slocum let her. It felt good. At last, the pleasant job finished, she stood up and swiped between her own legs. Then she tossed the towel back onto the table.

  “You want a drink?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Thanks.”

  She poured two drinks and brought them over to the bed. As she sat down on the edge of the bed, Slocum pulled himself up to a sitting position. He sipped the whiskey this time. It was good. Thoughts of Julie Townsend, the Townsend ranch crew, the ugly lynching of Bob Amos, even the betrayal of Joe Cash had all left his mind, at least for a time.

  “You’re a wonder-worker, Honey Pot,” he said.

  “You feeling better?”

  “I can’t recall a time I ever felt this good.”

  “That’s what I like to hear,” she said. “Slocum?”

  “Yeah?”

  “My name’s Jolene.”

  “What?”

  “Jolene. That’s my real name. I just want you to know.”

  “Jolene,” he said. “I like that. It’s a nice name.”

  “Thanks,” she said. She leaned over and kissed him tenderly on the lips. As she moved back, he lifted his glass and finished it. Jolene took the empty glass away from him. “Another?” she asked.

  “Not another drink,” he said.

  She looked him in the face and smiled, took one more sip of her own glass, put both glasses on the table, and turned back to him. She leaned over him again, kissing him. She put her hands on his chest as she stretched out over his body. Down below, she could feel him responding favorably to the situation. She let it rise on its own, continuing to kiss him for a long time. At last, she broke away from the kiss and moved down a bit to kiss his chest, to lick his nipples. She slid a bit more and licked his belly as she went. At last she was down as far as she wanted to go.

  She gripped the hard cock with her right hand and with her left, balanced the heavy balls in her palm. The head of the cock was right before her eyes. It bucked in her grip. She squeezed it harder, and it bucked again. She leaned in closer, sticking out her tongue, and she licked it. It bucked furiously as Slocum thrust upward. She smiled, and she licked again.

  Slocum knew what was coming, and he wanted it badly, but she continued to tease, now licking all along its length. She turned her head sideways and bit it between her lips from the side, then slid up and down. Slocum began to hump and thrust as if he were inside her again, and at last, she moved her head again, she opened her lips wide, and she took the head in her mouth. It was sudden and unexpected and incredibly wonderful, and Slocum gasped at the sensation. He thrust again, and she lowered her head as he did, taking the entire length into her mouth, down her throat. Then she began in earnest. She moved her head up and down to the rhythm of his thrusts, until at last he exploded again, and she swallowed each large spurt until he was done. Then she moved off. She looked at the cock she gripped in her hand. She squeezed it and milked it, bringing out a last drop, and she licked it clean.

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nbsp; Slocum was sober, and his head was clear. He rode back out to the Townsend ranch for his gear. He managed to avoid anyone until he was all packed and ready to ride out. As he moved past the ranch house, Townsend came out onto the porch.

  “Slocum,” Townsend called out.

  Slocum hesitated, then rode over to the porch. He nodded at the old man.

  “You ain’t leaving, are you?”

  “My job’s done here,” said Slocum.

  “Well, yeah, the war’s over. We won it. But you hired on as a cowhand. I didn’t hire you just on account of the war. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”

  “Sorry, Townsend. I got things to do elsewhere.”

  Julie came out on the porch just then. She saw what was going on, and she just looked at Slocum with curiosity.

  “Going after Cash, ain’t you?” asked Townsend.

  “You guessed it right.”

  “Well, hold on a minute. You got some pay coming.”

  Slocum thought about telling the old man to shove his pay up his ass, as the image of the demise of Bob Amos came back into his mind. He thought about it, but he kept his mouth shut. It probably wouldn’t be the bloodiest money he had ever accepted, and he would need it along the trail. He sat still in the saddle, waiting for the old man to bring out his pay.

  14

  While Townsend was still inside the house, Julie stepped over to the edge of the porch. She stood silent for a while just looking at Slocum sitting there on his horse. At last, she spoke, and her voice was icy cold. “So you’re leaving us,” she said.

  “That’s the idea.”

  “What for?”

  “Like I said, the job’s done.”

  “I thought we had some unfinished business, you and me. Did you forget about that?”

  “I remember all right, but I reckon I was wrong about it.”

  “What changed your mind?” she asked. “The lynching?”

  “I’d say that had something to do with it.”

  “I thought you were a tougher man than that. We were at war here. You’d have shot him down, wouldn’t you?”

  “Under the right circumstances.”

  “Why should you give a damn about what happened to Bob Amos?”

  “I don’t particularly,” Slocum said. “I just don’t hold with the way it was done.”

  “And you won’t change your mind?”

  “No. I won’t.”

  Townsend came back out, and Julie turned on her heel and went into the house. She’s as cold and hard as her uncle, Slocum thought. He rode up as close to the porch as he could get. Townsend held out the cash and Slocum reached for it. He tucked the money into his shirt pocket. “Thanks,” he said dryly. He turned the Appaloosa and rode slowly away from the house. His thoughts were mixed as he rode. He had taken on a job, and he had done it. The side for which he had fought had won the war. He should feel good about that. But along the way, he had been betrayed by Cash. He’d been forced to kill a snot-nosed kid, and finally, he had witnessed a lynching. He did not feel good about the victory.

  As he reached the big front gate, he paused. He really had no idea where he was going. He was on the trail of Joe Cash, but he did not know where the son of a bitch had gone. He thought for a moment.

  Cash was not the type to ride a long trail unless he had to. Likely, he would head for the nearest town. He had no chances of employment nearby, and besides that, he surely no longer felt safe in these parts. The closest town that Slocum knew about was three days’ ride to the west. It was worth a try. He turned the big Appaloosa’s head toward the setting sun.

  Slocum rode the rest of the day away with no indication that he was on the right trail, no sign that he was not. He did not pass any riders along the way. Toward nightfall, he stopped to camp for the night. He fixed himself a small meal and some coffee and turned in early. In the morning, he started his day with only coffee. He would wait for a meal until around noon when he would be really hungry. About mid-morning he saw a rider coming at him from the west. As the two approached each other, Slocum hailed the other.

  “Howdy.”

  “Howdy, stranger,” the man replied. “Traveling far?”

  “To the next town, whatever it is.”

  “It’s called Kiowa Gap,” the man said. “About two days’ ride west.”

  “You come from there?”

  “Yep.”

  “You didn’t see a man called Cash, by any chance?” Slocum asked.

  “Don’t recall the name.”

  “He’s a man about my age, maybe a little younger. About my size too. Usually wears black and wears his hair long and his guns low.”

  “Yeah. There was a feller like that in town. You hunting him, are you?”

  “I’d like to cross his trail again,” said Slocum.

  “Well, he was there.”

  “Do you mean he’s gone?”

  “Nope. I mean, he was there whenever I was there. Don’t know if he’s still there or not.”

  “I see.”

  “A friend of yours?”

  “I know him,” said Slocum.

  The man studied Slocum’s face for a moment; then he said, “Good luck to you.”

  “Thanks,” said Slocum. The two men rode on their own respective ways. So Cash was up ahead about two more days in the town called Kiowa Gap. Slocum decided that he could hurry up his pace a little, maybe cut the ride down to a day and a half and hope that Cash would still be hanging around. He moved on. The road got a little busier as he drew closer to Kiowa Gap. He passed three more riders that day, and one wagon with a man and a boy in it. He talked to each of the travelers. The two in the wagon had not seen Cash, but the three men on horseback all remembered him, one by name.

  “I got in a card game with him,” the man said. “He damn near cleaned me out. I think the son of a bitch was cheating me, but I couldn’t catch him at it. Couldn’t prove it. Say, is he a friend of yours?”

  “Let’s just say I know him,” Slocum said.

  The man looked at Slocum’s cold eyes, and he thought that maybe he knew what was up. “I hope he’s still there when you get to town,” he said. “I hope you catch up with him.”

  “Thanks,” said Slocum. He camped on the trail again that night and got up for an early start in the morning. That day the traffic was heavy. He passed at least a dozen travelers. After questioning the first four, he let it go. Cash was definitely in Kiowa Gap, unless he had just left, and if he had done that, he could not be far ahead. Slocum hurried on. He was itching to face the man, anxious for a showdown. Cash deserved a quick trip to the next world, whatever and wherever it might be, and Slocum wanted to be the one to send him on his way.

  He reached Kiowa Gap about noon. It was a small one-saloon town. It had a hotel that wasn’t much either. If Cash was still in town, he wouldn’t be hard to find. Slocum located the livery stable without any problems and put up his horse. He paid the man there in advance. Then he walked to the saloon. He stepped cautiously inside, looking the room over. There was a card game in progress, but Cash was not in it. He was nowhere in sight.

  Slocum walked over to the bar and ordered himself a shot of whiskey. When the bartender poured it, Slocum asked him, “You know a man named Cash?”

  The bartender looked at Slocum for a moment. “Yeah,” he said. “I know who he is.”

  “He around?”

  “He was.”

  “You mean he’s pulled out?”

  “Early this morning,” said the barkeep. “He had several of the local men pissed off at him. They thought he was cheating at cards. Couldn’t quite catch him, though. I guess he got the idea and decided it wasn’t too safe for him around here.”

  “Just this morning, you say?”

  “That’s right.”

  Slocum downed his drink. “Hit me again,” he said. “He can’t be but a few hours ahead of me then.”

  “I’d say three, four hours ahead.”

  “Do you know which
way he rode out?”

  “There’s only two ways out of Kiowa Gap,” said the man. “East and west. Which way’d you come from?”

  “I rode in from the east,” Slocum said.

  “And you didn’t see him?”

  “No.”

  “Then he rode out west.”

  Slocum emptied his glass and put some change on the bar. “Much obliged,” he said, and he turned to leave. He stopped and turned back, though, when the bartender spoke again.

  “There’s just one little problem,” said the barkeep.

  Slocum looked at the man. “What’s that?” he asked.

  “About five miles out of town on the road going west, you got a choice. There’s a crossroad. Turn north and you ride into Trail’s End in about twenty miles. Turn south and you’re headed for Sunflower. About the same distance. Maybe a little farther.”

  “I see.”

  “If I was you,” the man said, “if it was me hunting that Cash feller, I’d head south.”

  “Sunflower?”

  “Yeah. It’s a little wilder town than Trail’s End. A little bigger. More opportunities for an hombre like that Cash, if you get my drift.”

  “I get you,” said Slocum. “Where can I get a meal here?”

  “Right across the street. Only place in town.”

  Slocum crossed the street and had a meal that he had not cooked for himself. That was about all he could say for it. The steak was tough, and the bread was hard and dry. The coffee tasted like it had been in the pot for three days. He ate the meal, though, and drank the coffee. He paid for the wretched meal and left. At least he wasn’t hungry. The Appaloosa had not spent much time in the stable, but he had been well fed, likely better than Slocum had been, and rested up some. Slocum saddled up and hit the trail again. He figured that Cash had long since hit the crossroad and turned either north or south. He had nothing more to go on than the bartender’s assumption that Cash would have headed south to Sunflower. He decided that he would do the same. If it should turn out that Cash had not gone to Sunflower, he would turn around and head the other way. It wouldn’t be much of a loss. A few hours at the most. Slocum was getting anxious, though, to bring this business to a close.