Wicked Wyoming Nights

by Leigh Greenwood

  “Please,” she whispered, “now.” Gently Cord eased within her, and with a shudder of relief Eliza relaxed and opened to accept him. Cord plunged ever deeper until Eliza thought she could burst with him. Then, gently he began to work within her, withdrawing slowly, and thrusting deep, then withdrawing once again. All the while his lips and hands caressed her body, finding the places where her sensitivity was the most acute, and tapping them to add fuel to the raging fires that consumed her body. Eliza thrust herself against Cord, demanding and insistent, willing him to proceed more quickly, to end the torture that was driving her out of her mind with ecstasy. But Cord kept the rhythm teasingly slow, just fast enough to spin out the crescendo of need in ever-widening wispy spirals. She began to squirm, her arms trying to draw him nearer, pull him deeper within her, make him move more quickly, but he remained impervious to her wants.

  Eliza’s bream came in deep gasps. She heard herself cry out, telling of her need, of the agony she was suffering, and still the maddening rhythm continued. She tried to capture his body with her slim legs, tried to hold him with her lips. Only when her teeth sank into his shoulder did he give her relief.

  With the grunt of a savage animal taking what was its own, he threw himself at her, driving, pumping with rapid, powerful strokes, surging deep within her until the fires of passion exploded all around her.

  But Cord did not expend his seed, did not cease the torrid pace that quickly picked Eliza up and hurtled her into another spiral of pleasure until it burst around her, causing her whole body to twist and writhe. Still he rode her, driving her to another explosive release.

  Eliza felt herself slipping away as wave after way burst over her. Then, through the dimness, she felt Cord’s body tense, and the rhythm slow and become unsteady. Cord’s bream sounded rough and labored. He grew more rigid and the pace slowed even further. Eliza felt him expand within her, become so hot she felt like she housed a volcano. For an instant Cord almost ceased to move, then with a guttural shout that tore from his body in one long moan, he plunged deep within and released himself in a series of driving thrusts. The swift change enveloped Eliza in one final burst of pleasure, and men they both subsided, completely drained of all energy, content to lie still and hold each other close.

  Eliza sat listening to Melissa Burton’s graduation speech, but her thoughts were miles away from the seventeen-year-old girl. As the minutes ticked by, events from the summer crowded in on her thoughts until she was no longer aware of the sound of Melissa’s voice.

  It had been a glorious three months. She had continued to see Cord, though not very often, and there was no doubt in her mind now that she loved him totally. Their time together was all the more precious because it was so short and stolen with such difficulty. It hadn’t been easy to keep their meetings a secret, but her uncle’s hatred of Cord was as great as ever, and she hadn’t been able to think of anything to reverse it. As of yet, Cord hadn’t put any pressure on her to announce their engagement, but she knew he wouldn’t wait forever and she dreaded the prospect of her uncle publicly rejecting her fiancé. She couldn’t bear the thought of the whole town discussing her private affairs.

  In addition—and probably more important in the long run, unless she could reconcile her uncle to Cord—it would mean a permanent split with her uncle and she couldn’t accept that. Every time she even considered the possibility of leaving Ira, she would remember her vow to Aunt Sarah and realize she could not go back on her promise.

  Besides, she couldn’t stop singing now that the saloon depended on her, and she knew Ira would be so furious if she married Cord he probably wouldn’t let her in the front door. She couldn’t leave him without someone to take care of him and doom the saloon to failure at the same time. That wouldn’t be merely going back on her vow, it would be stabbing him in the back as well, and Eliza couldn’t bring herself to do that.

  She had tried to explain to Cord why it was necessary that they keep their meetings secret until she could somehow talk her uncle into accepting him as her husband, and Cord had accepted her decision, but Eliza doubted he understood or agreed with her. Right now he was so preoccupied with the ranch he let her have her way, but she was sure that come winter, after the fall roundup, he would be less patient with Ira’s persistent dislike.

  Meanwhile, Eliza continued to bask in the joy of Cord’s love. It had taken a long time to accustom herself to being loved so wondrously, to be certain at each sunrise his adoration was not a fabrication of the night, but gradually she had become secure in his devotion and had began to go though each day with a feeling of confidence, a sense of serenity, a palpable happiness. She hoped to be able to give him as much as he had given her, but it was hard to give to a man who seemed to be sufficient within himself.

  “… and the challenge of the future is one that can only be met by the mastering of our world, and ourselves. These laudable ambitions can only be attained through acquiring the knowledge which will make the world our servant, not our master. In that light I am doubly proud to be the first graduate of Buffalo Normal School, and I wish to express my appreciation to Miss Smallwood for making this possible.*

  Melissa led the assemblage in a generous round of applause, which caused Eliza to blush fiercely. This lead to a series of tributes from both of Melissa’s parents, several leading citizens, and even a few students. Eliza was so embarrassed she could hardly lift her eyes from the ground, but Ella Baylis and Susan Haughton happily nodded weir agreement with every word spoken. Cord, arriving late, listened with no visible emotion, but Eliza’s uncle was distrustful of anything that might take her mind off singing at the Sweetwater, and he seemed to grow more unhappy with every word uttered in her praise. Abruptly, she snatched her mind from the random thoughts; Mrs. Burton was calling upon her to take the podium.

  Eliza had never been required to stand up in front of such an assembly or to make a speech, and she had no idea what to say. The applause mounted as she rose to her feet and mechanically walked the distance from her chair to the speaker’s stand. The palms of her hands were sweaty and her mouth felt dry. She looked out at all the happy and smiling faces and knew she had to say something, but what? Then she saw Ella’s beaming face and she knew.

  “Thank you for your kind words. It has been a good year for the school and for the community, and I’m sure next year will be even better.” Applause. “There are a few people other than myself whose work has made this year possible, and I would like to publicly express my appreciation for their contributions. We must thank Mrs. Burton for her chairmanship of the fund-raising campaign. We finally have enough desks and books so that no child has to stand up or share a book.” Polite applause. Then there is Ella Baylis, who, even though she has no children, gained permission from the council to start the school and organized the men to put up the building.” Enthusiastic applause. “But there is another person who, maybe more than any other, is responsible for our garnering here today.” Ella shook her head vigorously, but Eliza wasn’t looking at Ella. Mr. Burton looked around to see if anyone thought Eliza could be talking about him, but everyone was just as mystified as he.

  “It was Mr. Stedman’s idea to rebuild the schoolhouse, and when attendance was slow, it was his encouragement that convinced the outlying families to send their children to school.” There was only a smattering of applause, and that rendered out of grudging recognition of a disagreeable truth.

  Eliza was stunned; Ella dropped her head. Cord showed no response, but Mr. and Mrs. Burton looked as if they’d rather have been almost anywhere else. Suddenly she felt she had to leave, that she had to get away from all these people and their cold, cruel faces.

  “I hope every pupil will be back next year, and that you won’t have forgotten all your lessons in the meantime.” To the accompaniment of polite giggling among the students, Eliza walked quickly to her seat and sat down, her eyes on the ground and a feeling of deep disappointment destroying all her pleasure. Despite the townspeople’s unfeig
ned acceptance and generous praise, she had never felt more like an outsider than she did now.

  Two days later Eliza returned to the schoolhouse to give it a final going-over before closing it up for the winter. She was going to miss it; for the first time in her life she felt she was making an important contribution. It also provided her with a place of her own in the community, one that didn’t depend upon her uncle or singing in the saloon. She was somebody, and that somebody was a person she wanted to be.

  She was busy fastening one of the heavy wooden shutters when she heard footsteps mount the porch. She was surprised to see Cord watching her from the door when she looked up.

  “I was just closing up for the winter.”

  “Will you be sorry to leave?” he asked, stepping into the semi-darkness of the interior.

  “Not as much as a few days ago.” There was a vein of still-warm resentment in her voice.

  “I wish you hadn’t said anything about my helping with the school.”

  “I don’t see why it’s okay to thank Ella and Mrs. Burton but not to thank you.”

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” Cord commented dryly, “but that’s not what I came for. I wanted to tell you I’ll be going on roundup in a couple of days.”

  “Do you have to go?” The words were out before she could stop them. “I mean, I thought you had already gone on roundup this year.”

  “The spring roundup was for branding new calves. Now we have to cull the steers for market. It won’t take half as long-Eliza’s face brightened. “Then they go to market, and with all the trouble people are having with impounded herds, I mean to take them myself”

  “Why would anyone impound your steers?”

  They haven’t yet, but they might. My success has made me very unpopular with the Association, and tying up the money I get for the sale of my herd would be one way to keep me under control*

  “When will you get back?”

  “Six weeks, maybe longer.”

  Eliza tried to keep from showing the disappointment that swept over her, but she failed completely. Cord had never left her before and the feeling of loss was a shock.

  “What are you going to do?”

  Cord looked puzzled.

  “I mean, why does it take so long?” She didn’t really care what he did, only how long it would keep him away.

  “We have to go over the whole range again, keeping an eye out for any unbranded calves while rounding up the steers old enough to sell. Then we drive them to the railhead in Montana. Once we get to Chicago, I’ll try to find the best possible price. Even a dollar a head can make a big difference. It’s important to the boys too. They have steers of their own going to market along with mine.”

  “Do all the owners take their own cows to market?”

  “Most of them send their foremen, or even sell them to jobbers at the railhead,” he said, taking her in his arms, “but I can’t afford to pay anyone for work I can do myself. This herd is the most important I’ll ever sell. If I get the kind of price I think I can, I’ll be able to pay off the last of my debt. Then the Matador and every head of cattle on it will be mine, free and clear.”

  “Is there anything else in your life as important as those cows?”

  “You.” Cord put his hand under her chin and tilted her face up until he could look into her eyes. A pair of teardrops had streaked her soft cheeks with their glistening moisture. Cord gently wiped them away and kissed her lingeringly. “You do believe that, don’t you?”

  “It’s hard sometimes.” She looked into his eyes with such heartfelt earnestness Cord almost considered sending Franklin to Chicago. “It’s just that I don’t see you very often. Sometimes, when I’m in the schoolhouse or the saloon, I find it hard to believe this part of my life is real. I realize it’s not your fault—I’m the one who insisted on keeping everything a secret—but sometimes, when I’m feeling particularly lonely, I wonder if I haven’t made you up just to pretend there’s someone who cares for me.”

  Cord folded her in a crushing embrace. “You don’t ever have to doubt me or my love,” he assured her. “This is not the time to stir up a lot of trouble, especially when I won’t be here to stand the heat with you, but we’ve got to get things settled with your uncle. I can’t wait much longer.”

  “Miss Smallwood, are you in there?” It was Melissa’s voice. Eliza sprang away from Cord, hurried over to the only window remaining open, and began to fasten the shutters.

  “Damn and blast!” exclaimed Cord as Melissa, afraid to enter the nearly dark schoolhouse, stood in the doorway, peering intently into the shadows.

  “I’m here, Melissa,” Eliza answered. “Mr. Stedman is showing me how to fasten the shutters so they wouldn’t come undone before next spring.”

  “You’d better make sure they’re good and tight, or some vagrant cowboy is likely to burn it down again,” Melissa said. “They’re a real nuisance, turning up all over town and pestering decent people to give them jobs.” Eliza could feel Cord stiffen with fury, and she reached out to take his hand to forestall the caustic words that rose to his lips.

  “They don’t have much choice when the ranchers turn them off every winter and then refuse them jobs if they try to run a few cows for themselves,” Cord said in low barbed tones as he stepped out into the bright sunshine.

  “Mr. Stedman, what a pleasure to see you,” Melissa simpered, batting her lashes in such an obvious way Cord’s anger turned to amusement. “How did you ever find the time to help close up the schoolhouse?”

  “I was in town getting some supplies for the roundup, and offered Miss Smallwood a hand. Now I must be going. Remember what I said about your uncle” he said to Eliza. He bid a perfunctory goodbye to Melissa and went on his way.

  “He is such a handsome man” Melissa sighed. “Don’t you think so, Miss Smallwood?”

  “Well, yes, I suppose he is” Eliza said, faltering, not sure how to respond.

  “I think he’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen,” Melissa gushed, “and I’m going to ask Mother to invite him to the Christmas party.” Eliza couldn’t think of a response, and wisely decided not to say anything at all. But her silence was hardly noticed. Melissa continued to sing Cord’s praises all the way back to the center of town.

  “Do you think he will come if we invite him?” she asked Eliza just before they parted ways.

  “I’m not sure,” she stammered. “I can’t say what he will or won’t do.”

  “You and he seemed to be such friends, I thought you might know.”

  Eliza could feel her face turning red. “You mustn’t let his helping me mislead you. I’m new to Wyoming and unfamiliar with its ways. Mr. Stedman has been kind enough to lend me assistance and offer advice several times when I needed it.”

  “That just proves what I told Mother.”

  “What did you tell your mother?” asked Eliza, terrified of what Melissa might have said.

  “That Mr. Stedman should be considered one of our leading citizens. His helping you just proves it.”

  Melissa waved goodbye to Eliza and headed toward home while Eliza turned her steps toward the saloon. She hoped Melissa would not use Cord’s helping her as an excuse to importune her mother for an invitation to her Christmas party. Eliza had heard nothing about it, but she was sure only the most substantial citizens would be invited to the inner sanctum of Green Street. Certainly not the school teacher, and especially not when the schoolteacher sang in a saloon.

  Chapter 16

  “There’s really nothing we can do as long as the range is crawling with his hands,” Les said to Croley. “Besides, he’s selling his best steers, and they don’t pay us enough for those old cows to make it worthwhile.”

  “Nobody pays enough to get me to go after anything of Stedman’s,” reiterated Harker. “I told you before, if you start messing with him, you can count me out.”

  “You don’t have to worry you’ll end up with a broken leg,” Croley said scornfully. “
I’ve worked out a plan. Besides, we’ll be taking unbranded calves so there won’t be any way he can prove they’re his.”

  “I still don’t like it,” said Les. “We’ve had pretty good luck running off a few beeves at a time and selling them to the mining crews. They pay good and we don’t have to keep the beef on our hands waiting for someone to come along and prove they ain’t ours.”

  “You’re running from Stedman like he was God.”

  “On his land, he might as well be. There ain’t nobody gets past him, and every damned cowboy on the place rides the range from daybreak to sundown poking his nose in canyons and asking questions just like those steers was his.”

  “You leave the worrying to me. I told you I had it worked out. We won’t hold the calves ourselves and there’ll be no way anybody can tie them to us.”

  “And how do you plan to do that? You might as well tell me you plan to take them across the Bighorns as think there’s a single acre of his land Stedman and his boys don’t cover.”

  I’ll tell you when the time comes. No point in too many people knowing about it. Besides, I plan to set up a decoy in case anything does go wrong.”

  “Where’re you going to find anybody that dumb?”

  “Ira Smallwood.”

  “That sodbuster! He barely knows enough about horses to stay on one.”

  “But he hates Cord Stedman enough to do just about anything, even something as stupid as getting himself caught with his rope on one of Stedman’s calves. With him as cover, any number of men could get away.”

  “Does he know anything about it yet?”

  “No. I’m letting him stew, and Stedman’s interest in his niece is making it certain he’ll be in the right mood to join us. She mentioned Stedman at the graduation last week and the old man is still raving about it. I figure a few judicious words dropped here and there, and Ira will be ready to pull the trigger himself.”