by Kurt Barker
He whistled for Khamsin and in a few moments the stallion stood beside him. He climbed into the saddle and pulled Poloma up behind him, then they started up the grade of the hill out of the clearing. Finding the location of Sun Wolf's camp would not be hard now; it was only a matter of following the tracks of the ambush party back to where they came from. They had paid no particular mind to disguising their trail, as they had assumed there would be no one left to follow them once they had accomplished their mission.
“Is she really mad at me?” Poloma rested her chin on Blackshot's shoulder as she spoke, and circled her arms around his waist.
“Who?”
“The blonde with the big tits. You said she was mad that I borrowed her clothes.”
“Did I?”
“You implied it. Are you fucking her?” The girl's hands slipped inside Blackshot's coat and ran along his shirtfront, tracing the thick ridges of his abdomen with her fingers. Yes, there had definitely been something more than respect in her voice.
“You're getting nosy all of a sudden,” Blackshot replied. “Does that happen every time you kill someone in the woods?”
“I'd fuck her if I were you,” she went on. “She puts on that she's all prim and proper, but girls like that will open their legs at the drop of a hat. I know her type pretty well.”
Blackshot tried to think of some way that the term “prim and proper” could be applied to Maisie, but failed to find a satisfactory result. “It's too bad I didn't meet you sooner,” he said. “Your keen insights on women could have proved useful to me over the years.”
“Oh, I know a lot about women,” Poloma purred. “I've even fucked women before, y'know.”
“Ah, I knew we'd fine something we had in common.”
“Sometimes we'd all go to a whore house to unwind, and Sun Wolf would get a whore and watch while I fucked her.” Her generous bosom was rubbing against his back, and her strong thighs were pressed to his. His show of strength had certainly made her see him in a whole new light!
“I don't envy the girl that had to deal with Horse Eater,” Blackshot grinned.
“Oh, he wouldn't get a girl. Horse Eater liked to strangle girls better than he liked to fuck 'em, so Sun Wolf always made him stay away,” Poloma replied nonchalantly. “Anyway, if that big-titted blonde is mad at me, I bet I can make her not so mad!”
“While we're on the topic of your sexual exploits, what about your late almost-husband Reuben?” Blackshot asked. “Isn't he going to throw a wrench into your happily-ever-after-at-the-Schenker-family-farm plans, being dead and all? Especially seeing as you're the one that killed him?”
“Of course I've thought about that; I'm not stupid,” Poloma retorted. “The family will be upset about it, but don't forget that Reuben wanted to murder them for the old man's money; they'll see that I did the only thing that I could. And besides, I may not have really been Reuben's wife, but I can still be part of the family if I marry Hans. The way I figure it, he needs a good woman to raise his daughter, doesn't he?”
Somehow Blackshot had a hard time envisioning the wild and temperamental marauder woman mothering a young child, but perhaps she had hidden depths, he thought with a smile. He said, “So that's your plan, to just go up to Hans and say 'Hey, I killed your brother so I'm on the market again. Let's us get married'?”
“He'll come around,” the girl murmured. “I made Sun Wolf come around and take me with him, didn't I? I can get Hans to want me the same way. I know how to make a man want me.”
Her fingers had slid between the buttons of Blackshot's shirt and were caressing the flesh of his hard stomach. If she had moved them a little bit lower, she would have found out just how right she was!
Chapter 29
They had been ascending the hillside and were now approaching the crest. Blackshot pulled Khamsin to a halt just before they reached the rim and swung down from the saddle. He had seen other tracks in the snow beside those that they had been following, and he sensed that the camp was close now. It was possible that a lookout had been posted, and riding along the exposed hilltop could give them away in an instant.
Poloma understood what he was thinking and slid down to her feet without a word. She took the reins from Blackshot's hand and led the Arabian to a thicket just behind where they had stopped, while he crept to the rim of the hill and looked over.
The hill had risen gradually along the course of their ride, but here it leveled off on their right and fell away steeply a good twenty five or thirty feet into the valley. A small pool lay at the base of the cliff, its snow-swollen expanse shimmering in the sun. Along on the left hand of Blackshot's position was a narrow, more gentle slope where horse and rider might traverse, and it was here that the tracks which he had followed continued. As they went on down this grade and toward the trees in the valley, they looped around the pool, and he could make out many other prints along the bank going to and fro from the water.
The camp was definitely nearby, but though Blackshot scanned the valley carefully he could not see it. He got up and circled around to the hilltop on his right, taking care not to let himself be seen by any eyes that might be watching from the trees below. The flat ground along the cliff edge extended about forty yards out in front of him before it sloped downward again, and was almost dry where the sun was beating down on it through the sparse trees.
At the far end of the hilltop Blackshot crouched down again and approached the edge. There below him was a clearing in the woods, half obscured by fallen trees, and in it was a camp. Half a dozen men sat about the black remains of what had been a campfire, and a few more were visible beyond them at the back of what appeared to be a wagon or carriage that was mostly hidden in the trees.
One or two of the men were Comanches, but others among them wore the dress of Apache or Lakota warriors, and a couple were white men. They were mostly young toughs, eager for action but looking pretty green to Blackshot's eye, although none was lacking a pistol at his side or a rifle close at hand.
“So he's gathered more fodder, I see.” Poloma spoke in a quiet voice from behind Blackshot's back. “He's got a new plan then.”
“I expect he would by now,” Blackshot said, turning to her. “Sun Wolf knows he can't count on his first plan at this point.”
She smiled but without humor. “Sure, but I can wreck this one as nicely as the last one. What do you think he's got in mind with those bums?”
“I'd sure like to find out. We're going to need to get a closer look at that camp.”
“I'll do it. I'm good at scouting.”
“There's no end to your talents, is there? Suit yourself, but I'd like to see it for myself, too.”
“If you go stomping around down there you'll be seen,” Poloma protested. “You can't blend in the way I can. You should stay here and get ready to fight them when I tell you.”
“Believe it or not I've done quite a bit of scouting without your assistance,” Blackshot replied, “and I think I'll figure out the whole 'blending in' bit just fine.”
“Not like I can.” Poloma's hands flew to the front of her shirt and in an instant she had stripped it off and tossed it at his feet. It took only another moment to slide the skirt down her broad hips and it crumpled at her feet as she stepped out of it, fully naked.
Her body was as tight and sculpted as a bronze statue; aside from her luscious full breasts that jiggled like jelly as she moved, there was not an ounce of fat to be seen anywhere. Tautly stretched skin rippled across the defined ridges of her ribs and down her smooth, flat belly to the sharp edges of her hip bones above her thick, muscled thighs.
The girl's long black hair fell across her shoulders and framed her ample tits as she leaned back against a tree, her coppery gold body undulating against the golden brown trunk.
“See what I mean?” she purred. “Now don't you think you should stay here and save your strength for later?”
Chapter 30
Blackshot sauntered casually across the space
between them and stopped in front of Poloma, close enough that the tips of his boots almost touched her toes. He held out one finger, then brought it down to her waist and pressed it to her belly just above the patch of black hair between her supple thighs. Her body tensed almost imperceptibly at his touch.
Slowly he drew his finger up along her skin to trace the hollow of her navel, then further up until it was resting in the valley between the swell of her breasts. His face was close to hers, and he could taste her hot breath.
With his steel gray eyes still locked on her large dark ones, Blackshot moved his finger upward again until he had looped it inside the string of Maisie's gold necklace that circled the girl's throat. With a sudden jerk, he yanked it from her neck. The dark eyes widened and flared with shock and anger.
“I'd better hang on to this,” Blackshot said, holding up the necklace in front of her face before slipping it into his pocket. “You'll blend in better without it.”
“Let's split up,” Poloma replied, still glaring at him. “That way when you get too clever for your own good and get killed, it won't be a problem for me.”
“Smart girl,” Blackshot said. “You think of everything.”
He turned from her and crossed to the edge of the hilltop, careful to stay out of the sight line of the camp below. Making his way cautiously down the far side of the slushy slope, he reached a thicket of dense underbrush and crouched behind it. He glanced over his shoulder back up the hill, not expecting to see Poloma, and not seeing her.
The image of her sinuous nude body flitted across Blackshot's mind, and he remembered how she had felt in his arms the morning before. It was no mystery to him why Sun Wolf had taken her with him and kept her for his own, even though he probably knew at the time what a handful she could be. Perhaps he could even have guessed that it wouldn't last between them and they would end up turning on each other, or maybe with a woman like that in his bed he hadn't cared much about what might come later.
Beyond the thicket where Blackshot squatted he spotted a narrow hollow between two large oaks that ran away from the hill side. Staying low, he followed it through the trees as it turned toward the camp site, the short tree-lined ridge shielding him from view. As the ground leveled out he crept forward through the underbrush, carefully avoiding dead branches and fallen leaves that might give away his presence with an out-of-place sound.
After several minutes of cautiously picking his way through the brush, Blackshot reached a spot beneath a bedraggled evergreen where he could lie unseen in its shadow and look out at the camp with a fairly unimpeded view. The extinguished campfire was off to his left now, and the men still lounged around it. He was close enough that he could just make out their casual, conversational voices.
The wagon was in plain view now, and looked to Blackshot like the ones that the army used. A wiry half breed with a pockmarked face stood in the back of the wagon bed, and another larger man approached the back bay carrying a small barrel in his arms. It looked heavy for its size and as he reached the wagon the thin man knelt down and helped him lift it onto the bed. From there he lugged it toward the front of the wagon where two similar kegs were already resting, while the burly Comanche returned the way that he had come.
Words were stamped in large letters across the sides of the kegs, and even from a distance Blackshot could read what they said: GUNPOWDER. He pushed the brim of his hat back with his thumb and swore silently. Sun Wolf had a new plan all right, and it was going to be one of his signature big flashy ones.
The sound of a whinnying horse caught Blackshot's attention, and he craned his neck around the low hanging branches to see the further end of the camp site. A man dressed all in black with red and white war paint marking his stolid face was approaching the wagon, leading a pair of horses behind him. Following the man were two other Comanches clad in black from head to toe; one was tall and lean with long, muscular arms and black paint streaked on his chiseled cheekbones, and he too led a pair of horses.
The other was not so tall, but was powerfully built and broad-shouldered. His hard, roughly handsome face was painted all white save for black lips and a streak of black across his eyes, giving him an almost skull-like appearance. Raven feathers hung in his long black locks, and a thick-bladed knife was secured at his waistband.
The man spoke quietly to his tall companion, and the bigger man nodded and strode forward, handing the reins of his horses to the man leading the other horses before approaching the young guns at the campfire. In a harsh voice he barked out orders, gesturing aggressively toward them. The group got to their feet and stood facing the big man as he gave them instructions in no uncertain terms, then they filed off into the trees behind the wagon with him following close on their heels.
During this exchange the man with the skull-like face stood back with his hands on his hips, saying nothing. But even though he spoke not a word, Blackshot knew that when the tall raider spoke, it was with this man's voice; he did not need to deal with the underlings himself. He carried himself with the easy confidence of a king among his subjects.
“That's him.” Poloma was behind him and she spoke in a soft but serious voice.”That's Sun Wolf.”
Chapter 31
Blackshot cast a backwards glance at the girl. She knelt beneath the tree behind him, clad once again in Maisie's blouse and skirt, her eyes fixed still on the man in the clearing.
“I figured it couldn't be anybody else but Sun Wolf,” he said. He poked a finger at her skirt. “I see your fanaticism for blending in has passed.”
“Shut up.”
“Also, what happened to your keenness for splitting up? Did you get lonely?”
“This is no laughing matter,” Poloma snapped. “I found out plenty on my own, and I came looking for you.”
“I'm not in a laughing mood,” Blackshot replied. “I found out plenty, too. Take a look at those kegs of gunpowder in the wagon, for starters.”
“Shit,” Poloma muttered.
“My thoughts exactly. What did you find out?”
“He's got a bunch of army uniforms; they're laid out on a big rock back where the horses were.” She jerked a thumb in the direction that Sun Wolf had come from. “I don't what his game is; does he think he can bluff his way into the old man's estate by pretending to be soldiers?”
“I don't reckon any of the uniforms are for him,” Blackshot mused. “Did you see the way he was dressed, he and the other two? They're kitted out for a battle; the kind of battle where the other side doesn't know that the fight has started until it's too late.”
“If he's planning some kind of sneak attack, what's the idea of the gunpowder and uniforms?”
The voice of the tall Comanche boomed out from the camp again, and they turned to see the gang of young men returning to the clearing. They were all dressed in the blue coats and caps of cavalry soldiers, and carried their weapons in their hands.
“Well, now we know what the new fodder is for,” Blackshot said.
“He's going to use those bums as a distraction.”
“Right. They probably don't have any idea that Sun Wolf's not counting on them all coming back alive.”
“He'll have filled their heads with happy tales of all the money they'll find in the Schenker house; he's good at spinning stories like that.”
“And the big fella is riding them hard so they don't get to questioning anything that's going on,” Blackshot said.
“That's Lightning Bear,” Poloma said. “He's Sun Wolf's right hand. He gives the orders and keeps the gang in line so that Sun Wolf can concentrate on bigger things.”
“He seems like a pleasant guy; kind of like a rabid dog but not as friendly.”
“That's about right. He's not stupid, though; whenever he got his chance to fuck me he wouldn't waste it playing dumb-assed games, like some people.”
Blackshot grinned. “Alas, we can't all be Lightning Bear.”
The wiry half breed who had loaded the gunpowder into the wagon appea
red again with a blanket and a few smaller linen cloths in his hands. He too wore a blue cap and trousers, but no jacket. He climbed into the wagon bed and covered the kegs with the blanket. When he turned around again Blackshot could see that the man's shirtfront was stained with red paint. As a couple of the other men climbed onto the wagon beside him, he lay down on the blanket against the kegs and positioned the cloths across his chest and side; they too were marred with red paint.
“This wounded man needs immediate attention, if the guards would be so kind as to open the gate,” Blackshot muttered dryly.
“Wounded fighting Indians, I bet,” Poloma added. “Sun Wolf's got a sense of humor like that.”
“Let's get out of here,” Blackshot whispered. “Whatever they're planning to do, they're fixing to do it soon.”
Horses had been hitched to the wagon and one of the disguised raiders was guiding them carefully from between the trees into the clearing. Meanwhile the rest of the young men had saddled their horses and were gathering alongside. As Blackshot and Poloma slipped away from the campsite through the underbrush, Lightning Bear's voice barked sternly and Blackshot turned to see Sun Wolf and his two companions on horseback now, accompanied by two more black-clad men.
Once the orders had been given, the five warriors turned their horses and rode away from the others, driving their horses into a flat out gallop. The gang in the cavalry uniforms started off in the opposite direction, moving more slowly as they navigated the wagon through the trees toward the open valley, but still at a brisk pace.
“Come on, let's run. There's no point in hiding now,” Blackshot said.
As he took off up the side of the hill toward the spot where Khamsin had been left, Poloma sprinted along behind, struggling to match the pace of his long-striding gait. “What are you going to do?” she panted.
“What can we do? Cut them off before they reach the Schenker estate; that's the only option we have right now.”
