by Jake Logan
Bobby was nervous. Even following her bold behavior, he did not want to appear to be brash. Even so, his hands could not remain still any longer. One hand slid down to press one of her firm, round breasts. She moaned with pleasure, but soon, she broke away from him and sat up. He was afraid that he had done something to offend her, until he saw that she was unbuttoning her shirt. His heart pounding with anxiety, he started doing the same. In a couple of minutes, they were both naked and rolling in each other’s arms on the blanket.
Bobby rolled on top of her, and she spread her legs. Reaching down with both hands, she found his cock, already stiff and throbbing. She gripped it tightly with one hand, her other hand clutching his balls. “Ohh,” he moaned out loud. He thrust awkwardly, not getting anywhere, but she guided the head of his dick into her wet and waiting slit. “Easy,” she said. He shoved slowly and went in deeper and deeper. When he was fully inside her, she began moving her hips, and Bobby responded. They moved more quickly. Then, he was thrusting hard and fast, pounding into her with each stroke.
“Oh, oh, oh,” she cried.
Suddenly, Bobby felt a tremendous pressure building deep down in his balls. He could hold it no longer. It came in spurts. He thought it would never stop, but at last it did. He relaxed on top of her. She continued to move until she could tell that it was no use. Not just then. She lay still. Bobby rolled off her, lying still by her side. She rolled over to kiss him. His hands fondled her breasts. She moved to get one nipple perched on his lips, and he sucked it in and slurped. She reached down to feel his wet and sticky cock, and soon it was ready to go again. This time, she climbed on top of him, straddling him, and once again, she guided the greedy cock into her slit. She sat down hard on top of him and began to rock her hips. This time, she would get hers.
When at last they were both spent, both thoroughly satisfied, they lay side by side on the blanket beside the fire. Neither one said anything. The fire was burning low, but it did not matter. The night was warm, and Bobby and Tex were both sweating from their recent activity. Tex was having second thoughts about her rash attack on Bobby. It was obvious that this had been his first time.
“Bobby,” she said.
“Yes?”
“Do you think less of me?”
“What do you mean?”
“Was I too bold?”
Bobby turned on his side and looked at Tex. He put a hand on her shoulder. “Tex,” he said. “I think you’re wonderful. I never dreamed anything like this would happen on this trip, but I’m sure glad that it did. I don’t think you could ever do anything wrong. I just—”
“What?” she said.
“Well, I just wonder—would you marry me?”
“Marry you?” she said.
“Yes. Marry me.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want you for my wife. Will you?”
“Don’t you think it’s a little too soon?”
“Some folks would say it’s a little too late.”
“I don’t know. I—”
“Will you at least think about it?”
“Yes, Bobby,” she said. “I’ll think about it. I’ll think about it real hard.”
As Tex and Bobby were on their second day’s ride, Slocum rode back into Dead Dog. He went by Baker’s for breakfast, having tired already of his own cooking. Charlene brought him his coffee and took his order. “You haven’t been back to see me,” she said.
“I been real busy,” Slocum said.
“I heard you killed a man.”
“Word travels fast.”
“You moved in with that little Kirk gal?”
“I’m her foreman.”
“Yeah,” Charlene said. “Well, I’ll get your breakfast started.”
Slocum tried to think of a response to what she had said, or to the way that she had said it, but nothing came to mind. He tried to drive the thought out of his head. While he was waiting for his meal, Kansas Totum came in with Reardon and Ball. Totum nodded as he passed by Slocum’s table. Slocum did not bother to acknowledge the gesture. Charlene stepped out to take their order, and Totum, as before, made suggestive small talk and pinched her rear. Slocum wanted more than ever to pound the vile son of a bitch. Then his breakfast came out, and in another minute, Carl Benton came in. The sheriff walked straight to Slocum’s table and sat down without an invitation.
“Morning, Slocum,” he said.
Slocum nodded.
“How’s things going?” asked Benton.
“You mean has anyone attacked the Kirk place again?” Slocum said. “Not yet. It’s been quiet.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” said Benton.
“The real question,” Slocum said, “is how are things going with you—with your investigation?”
“Nothing new,” Benton said. “But I ain’t forgot about it. You can rest assured of that.”
“Yeah,” said Slocum. “I’ll sleep real well knowing that you ain’t forgot.”
Benton shrugged, got up, and moved to a table by himself. Totum and his two pards finished and left, but as they were going out, Totum paused beside Slocum’s table. “Slocum,” he said, “I’ll be over at the saloon. I’d like to buy you a drink.”
“What’s the occasion?” Slocum said.
Totum shrugged and said, “I’d like to have a talk with you.” He turned and walked out of the place. Slocum finished his meal, paid, and left. He stood on the sidewalk for a moment, not wanting to seem too anxious to see Totum. He was curious, though. He lit a cigar and puffed on it. He hung around on the sidewalk for a while. Then he fooled with his horse, at last mounting up and riding over to the saloon. He dismounted and tied the reins to the rail. He loosened the cinch strap, patted the horse, and talked to it. At last, he walked into the saloon. Totum, seated at his favorite table with Ball and Reardon, grinned when he saw Slocum approaching. He called for another glass. Slocum walked to the table.
“Sit down, Slocum,” said Totum, pouring a drink in the fresh glass and shoving it toward the place where Slocum would sit.
Slocum pulled out the chair and sat. He looked at the drink. “What’s this all about, Kansas?” he said.
“Just a friendly drink. To show that there’s no hard feelings.”
Slocum picked up the drink and took a sip. It was good whiskey. He had to give Kansas that much.
“I heard you’re acting foreman out at the Kirk ranch,” Totum said.
“You heard right.”
“You the whole crew?”
“So far.”
“I don’t think that gal’s gonna get another crew around here. That’s a big job for a young gal like that. Running a big spread. Even with you helping her, it’s a big job. Don’t you think she’d be better off selling out and moving back East somewhere?”
“That’s none of my business,” said Slocum.
“You could make it your business.” Slocum just stared at Totum, so Totum went on. “I could make it worth your while if you was to, say, help convince her to sell out. Slocum, I want that place, and I’m willing to pay a fair price.”
“I understand you’ve already made her an offer and she turned it down,” said Slocum.
“I’ll up the offer. What do you say? I’ll give you a fair commission. Say, ten percent of the sale price. Well?”
“Kansas,” said Slocum, “I’ll tell you what. Even if the lady was of a mind to sell, I don’t think she’d sell to you. Not for any price.”
“Come on, Slocum. Everyone’s got a price.”
“Yeah? Maybe you’re right.”
“Name it.”
“Blow your fucking brains out. She might sell then.”
Slocum shoved back the chair and stood up to leave.
“What’s the deal, Slocum?” said Totum. “Are you fucking that little thing?”
Slocum picked up the drink he had only sipped from and tossed it in Totum’s face. Then he grabbed Totum’s jacket and pulled Totum to his feet. He smashed a right into Totum�
��s mouth and sent him sprawling on the floor. Then he jerked out his Colt and cocked it, pointing it at Totum’s face.
“Say that again, Kansas,” he said. “Say it. I’ll blow your damned head off.”
He looked at Reardon and Ball, but both men had placed their hands on the table. Slocum backed away a few steps, then holstered the Colt and walked out of the saloon. As he was tightening the cinch on his saddle, a man rode up fast and stopped at the rail. Slocum ignored him, mounted up, and turned to ride out of Dead Dog. The other man slapped his reins around the rail and hurried inside.
Kansas Totum was back in his chair wiping blood away from his mouth with a white handkerchief. The man spotted him and rushed over to the table. Without waiting for an invitation, he sat down.
“Buy me a drink,” he said.
“What for,” said Totum, still smoldering.
“I just run across some news that might interest you.”
Totum said, to no one in particular, “Pour him a drink.”
Reardon poured whiskey into the glass that Slocum had emptied into Totum’s face. He shoved it toward the newcomer. “Here you go, Sam,” he said.
The man called Sam picked up the glass and emptied it in one swallow. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
“So what’s the news?” demanded Totum.
“I was riding over here from Hang Town,” Sam said. “I run across a man and a woman. We chatted a spell there on the road. The woman was that Texas Kirk gal. Vance Kirk’s kid.
Totum looked up suddenly interested. “Go on,” he said.
“She was riding with old man Hooper’s youngest kid. I think they call him Bobby. Anyhow, they offered me a job. Said they was going to Hang Town to hire on a new crew. I’d heard that you was looking to buy that place, so it come to me that you might be interested to know that. I was on my way over here anyhow to see if you could use a hand, so I come to give you the news.”
“Pour him another drink,” said Totum. “Boys, you remember ole Sam Gurney here, don’t you?”
“I remember Sam,” said Ball.
“Yeah. Sure,” said Reardon.
“Well, Sam’s the newest member of our crew here. Welcome aboard, Sam.”
Sam Gurney picked up the glass and drank a slug down.
“So,” said Totum, “the Kirk gal is hiring a crew, is she? I’d say that means she and that goddamned Slocum are fixing to hang on. By God, they’ll have a fight on their hands.”
10
Carl Benton watched Slocum ride out of town. Then he strolled over to the saloon and went inside. He saw Totum and his crew and went to their table. Right away, he noticed Totum’s busted lip.
“What the hell happened to you?” he asked.
Totum grumbled something, and Reardon said, “Slocum smashed his face for talking about that Kirk gal.”
“Slocum, huh?” said Benton. “And you two just sat there?”
“You told us not to do anything,” said Totum.
“Oh, yeah. I did, didn’t I? And what the hell brings you back to town, Gurney?”
“I hired him,” said Totum. “That all right with you?”
Benton shrugged.
“I’m working for Mr. Totum,” Gurney said. He reached for the bottle and poured himself another drink. Benton waved at the bartender and called for another glass. When he got it, he poured a drink for himself.
“You do buy good whiskey, Kansas,” he said.
“He got a glassful tossed in his face,” said Reardon.
“Shut up,” said Totum.
“Slocum?” Benton asked.
“Yeah, Slocum. That son of a bitch,” said Totum, touching his split lip gingerly. “He ought to get his face pounded, see what it feels like.”
“I don’t see no harm in that,” said Benton.
Totum looked up quickly at Benton. “You don’t?” he said.
“Folks get in fistfights all the time,” Benton said. “It’s an everyday occurrence.”
“Is the son of a bitch still in town?” Totum asked.
“He just rode out,” said Benton, “headed for the Kirk ranch.”
“He’ll be out there all alone,” Gurney said.
“That’s right,” said Totum. “You said you seen the gal and the Hooper kid headed for Hang Town.”
“What was they doing headed for Hang Town?” Benton asked.
“Hiring a crew,” said Gurney.
“So they do mean to stay,” Benton said.
“Out there by himself,” mused Totum. “Do you three boys think you could find a way to get into a fight with him?”
“No gunplay,” said Benton.
The sun was about to disappear when the three ruffians rode up to the gate that led to the Kirk ranch house and stopped their horses.
“We got to leave the horses here,” said Ball. “He can see clean to the gate from the house.”
They dismounted and tied the horses to the fence. Then they walked onto the ranch property in a low crouch. Ball was looking at the ranch house.
“We’ll have to get down and crawl,” he said. “We can see the house, and that means he can see us if he looks this way.”
“I ain’t crawling all that way,” said Reardon.
“By God, you have to,” said Ball.
“Come on,” said Gurney. “I’ll crawl with you.”
Ball and Gurney dropped down on their bellies. Reardon watched them snake along a bit. Then he dropped down behind them. “Shit,” he said. “Wait for me.”
They slithered toward the house, and then they stopped abruptly when Slocum stepped out onto the porch. He was carrying a blanket roll and a rifle. His Colt was strapped on around his waist.
“What’s he doing?” said Reardon.
“Hush up,” said Ball. “If you got to talk, whisper.”
They watched as Slocum walked out to the place where he slept at night. Reardon and Gurney slunk up beside Ball. “He’s sleeping out there,” whispered Reardon.
“Yeah,” said Ball. “Let’s move up closer.”
They scooted along for a while until Ball stopped them again. “Let’s give him time to settle in,” he whispered.
Slocum’s Colt was within easy reach of his right hand. He was about to drop off when he thought he heard a sound. His hand moved toward the Colt, but a booted foot stepped on it. He started to sit up, but another boot kicked him in the side of the head. When he fell back, his left arm flopped out to the side, and someone stepped on that hand to hold it down. He blinked and looked up. Ball and Reardon were standing on his hands. A third man was gathering Slocum’s guns and moving them well out of reach. It was Gurney, but Slocum did not recognize him. Gurney tossed the guns down and came back to kick Slocum hard in the ribs. Then the other two men reached down to grab his shirt and drag him to his feet.
While Ball and Reardon held his arms, Gurney pounded fist after fist into Slocum’s midsection. Slocum was sagging. Ball turned loose of his arm and moved around to deliver a powerful punch to his jaw. Slocum staggered backward, but Reardon held him up. Then all three were pounding on him, hitting him in the face and in the gut. When he at last collapsed, they dropped to their knees and continued. Slocum blacked out. After a few more punches, the three men stood up. Ball delivered one last kick in the ribs to the unconscious Slocum.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said, and the three went running off into the darkness.
Slocum woke up the next morning with the sun beating down on his face. His eyes did not open very far. He reached a hand up to rub them, but when he touched them, they hurt. He tried to sit up, but a sharp pain jabbed through his side where his ribs had been kicked. He fell back with a loud groan. He recalled the events of the night before. Slowly, all of the pains in his body became all too apparent, all too sharp. With a major effort, he rolled onto his side, then on over onto his belly. Using his hands, he got himself up onto his knees. He stayed there for a moment, breathing heavily. Each breath hurt his sides. At last, he managed to sta
nd. He stood, weaving uncertainly. At last, he started walking slowly toward the house. Every step was painful. He realized that he was not wearing his boots. He walked ahead anyway.
When he finally made it to the house, he walked to the kitchen area of the main room, and he pumped some water to wash his face. He staggered around to find a mirror, and he was startled when he looked at his own face. Both eyes were black and almost closed. There were visible cuts and bruises all over. He could feel that they were all over his body as well. He wobbled his way into the bedroom where he was supposed to be staying, and fell heavily onto the bed, calling out with pain as he did so. In a short while, he was in a deep sleep.
When he woke up again sometime later, he had no idea how long it had been, he was ravenously hungry, and he was craving coffee. He started to get up, but it hurt too bad. He lay back down, wide awake now, suffering from all kinds of pain and from hunger as well. He wondered how long it would take for his body to mend, how long before he would be able to stand and walk and fix himself some coffee, some food. How long would it be before he could fix a bath and clean himself up? Tex and Bobby had been gone for only two days. They would only just be getting into Hang Town. How long would it take for them to hire the crew that Tex needed? Even after that, it would be two more days before they returned. He would have to last that long alone. He would have to take care of himself.
He thought about taking himself to Dead Dog for a doctor, but then he knew that he would not be able to saddle a horse. If he had a horse saddled, he likely would not be able to pull himself into the saddle. Besides, what could a doctor do? Wash his cuts? He could do that. Wrap some bandages around his middle to help hold the ribs still? Big deal. He would just have to suffer it. He had to get together enough strength to fix some food and coffee. But he couldn’t make himself move. He just lay there with his eyes opened to tiny slits. He could not open them further.
He considered the sons of bitches who had beat him. He knew two of them. The third must be a new addition to Kansas Totum’s crew. He would recognize the bastard if he ever saw him again. Once more, he wondered how long it would take him to heal sufficiently to go after the cowards. It took three of them to do this to him, and even then, they had to catch him by surprise. As soon as he got himself back into good shape, he could take them, all at once or one at a time. It wouldn’t matter. He would get them, though. He would either kill them or pound them to a pulp. He wasn’t particularly choosy. But if he left them alive, he meant to leave them unable to defend themselves from anyone or anything.
