Rosa’s body was soft and tense at the same time. Her skin was smooth, but her muscles quivered beneath his hand. Once he cupped her breast and massaged it, Clint could feel her relaxing and letting out a slow breath.
Holding her arms up a bit, Clint leaned forward to run his tongue between her breasts while teasing her nipple with his thumb. Rosa didn’t put up one bit of struggle. In fact, she wriggled and squirmed as a way to guide his lips to where she wanted them to go.
Once Clint started nibbling at a spot on her neck, she pressed herself against him and urgently whispered, “Right there. Oh my God, that’s so good.”
Even though Clint had ahold of her wrists, he quickly realized that she had ahold of him in another way. Rosa’s legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him in closer until she was grinding herself against his rigid cock.
Clint looked down to watch the way she moved. By the time he slowly ran his hand along the side of her body, she’d positioned herself so the tip of his penis was nestled between the lips of her pussy. Her eyes were closed and her hair was tossed behind her as she began thrusting her hips forward until he was finally inside of her.
After allowing her to slide her wet lips along the length of his cock a few times, Clint leaned forward and pushed her onto the ground. Rosa landed solidly and snapped her eyes open. Her smile was wider than ever, and her mouth hung open as if she was about to say something. Those words didn’t come out before she felt him straighten out her arms over her head by tugging the rope a little tighter.
“Oh . . . oh, yes!” she moaned. As Clint slid all the way inside of her, she arched her back and repeated herself again and again.
One of Rosa’s legs was looped around him and the other was braced against the ground. The cotton shirt lay open beneath her, making the color of her skin stand out like she was laying on a bed of spilled cream.
Even though she appeared to struggle against his hold on the ropes, Rosa never made a serious attempt to break Clint’s grip. As he pumped his hips between her legs, Clint was still waiting for her to try to take advantage of a moment or gain an upper hand. Just then, however, Rosa was more than content to let him be in control.
Soon, Rosa did make a move that Clint wasn’t expecting. It wasn’t exactly an unwelcome one, either.
The first thing Clint felt was her pulling against the ropes binding her wrists. Clint’s free hand had reached around to cup her buttocks and lift her up a bit as he thrust forward. When he felt her struggling, Clint stopped and looked to see what she had in mind.
Rosa’s breaths were coming in loud gasps. She looked at him and winked while wriggling on the ground to give herself some slack in the ropes. Clint allowed her to go, just to see what she was up to. Before long, Rosa was able to bend her elbows and sit upright.
“What are you doing?” Clint asked.
She kept scooting toward the tree and then got onto all fours so she could crawl to it. “I just want a little more rope to work with,” she said.
Although Clint was wary of her intentions, he enjoyed watching her crawl toward the tree where the rope was tied. Her legs dragged through the grass and her backside twitched slowly back and forth. Following her, Clint stopped before she could get close enough to the tree to grab a low-hanging branch. He no longer held her by the wrists, but he kept hold of the rope.
“That’s far enough,” he warned. “Maybe this isn’t such a good . . .”
His words trailed off as Clint saw Rosa lean forward and dig her fingers into the ground like a cat stretching its back. Her backside was raised even higher and she looked over her shoulder with lust smoldering in her eyes.
“This is just right,” she said. “Come and see for yourself.”
Clint settled in behind her and rubbed his free hand along the curve of her buttocks. After wrapping the rope around his other hand, he had just enough slack to drape the rope over her back while she kept her hands pressed flat against the ground in front of her. The tree wasn’t far in front, but there was nothing for her to reach and no branch anywhere close to Rosa’s grasp.
When Clint brushed the rope against her back, Rosa flinched and let out a slow moan. He rubbed her backside, savoring the way her tight muscles and smooth skin felt under his hand. He even gave her a little slap on the hip, which caused Rosa to moan louder and lift her backside higher.
By now, Clint was so hard that he would start to ache if he didn’t get inside of her. He guided his cock to her waiting pussy and pushed his hips forward. She was so wet that he glided in easily. Her moist lips wrapped around him and even tightened a bit as he lingered inside of her.
“Don’t make me wait for it,” she moaned. “Please.”
Clint tugged on the rope as he eased out and thrust his hips forward. This time, he didn’t hesitate or prolong the moment in the least. He pumped into her again and again until she was gritting her teeth and groaning as an orgasm pulsed through her body.
Clint could feel her climaxing as her muscles twitched and she rocked against him with every thrust. Soon, Rosa brought her head up and flung her hair along her back as she gazed up at the darkening sky. She bit down on her lower lip and trembled as one orgasm fed into another.
As his own climax approached, Clint almost let the rope slip from his hand. Not only did Rosa not try to use that momentary weakness against him, but she didn’t even seem to notice it. She was too busy reeling with the intense pleasure she was feeling, and Clint was about to join her.
A few more powerful thrusts and Clint exploded inside of her. By the time he was finished, Rosa’s legs were almost too weak to support her own weight.
Reluctantly, Clint got up. “I . . . still can’t untie you,” he said.
It took a few seconds for her to catch her breath. When she did, Rosa replied, “After this . . . I actually don’t mind these ropes anymore.”
TWENTY-TWO
Tom Clark was a barrel-chested man with a grizzled face and stubbly, gray hair. His fingers were like thick sausages, and when he took hold of the reins to Rosa’s horse, he clamped around the leather straps like a vise.
“This little lady did all that?” Tom asked after Clint was finished explaining why he was handing Rosa into his custody.
“She was the lookout for Franco Dominguez when he intended on picking off me and my friend in Dover Shallows,” Clint explained. “I’m pretty sure she was there when we got ambushed, but I didn’t see her fire a shot.”
“Just acting as a lookout again, huh?”
“That’s my guess.”
Tom looked up to Rosa with calculating eyes. Although he took a second to appreciate her figure, he didn’t let his eyes linger on her for too long. “Pretty ones like this tend to favor the troublemakers,” Tom muttered. “They also tend to think their pretty faces will get ’em out of whatever trouble they get into.”
“That’s why I handed her over to you, Tom. Only a happily married man like yourself could resist such feminine wiles.”
Tom looked over to Clint’s smirking face and let out a choppy laugh. “Shit, you’re just saying that because you met my wife. You know damn well she’d skin me alive if she thought I laid a finger on a young little thing like this one.”
“There’s that, too.”
“I’ve got some men riding not too far from Dover Shallows. I can send word to them and have them check in with the local law over there. If need be, can I count on you to testify to what you saw?”
“Sure,” Clint replied with a nod. “If I’m not here, you can send a telegram to Rick Hartman. You remember him?”
“It’d be hard to forget Rick’s Place! I had some of the best meatloaf in my life over there!”
“I’ll be sure to let Mrs. Clark know about that.”
Clearing his throat and shifting on his feet, Tom said, “When’d you say you were leaving Carson City?”
“Just as soon as you buy me a beer. I tend to lose track of what I was going to say after I’ve had one or two.”
&n
bsp; “Then I’ll buy you three! As far as you know, my wife’s cookin’ is the best there is!”
Clint laughed as he watched a younger marshal lead Rosa away. She sat warily in the saddle, but that was mostly because she hadn’t been able to shift to a better position throughout the entire ride. Even so, she managed to smile back at him.
“She give you any trouble?” Tom asked once her horse had been led far enough away so she couldn’t overhear them.
“Actually, no.”
“You seem surprised by that.”
Clint let out a sigh and nodded slowly. “I am. Both the times my friend and I crossed that assassin’s path, she wasn’t anywhere to be found. I’m pretty sure I spotted her at that first ambush, but that was at a distance.”
“The lookout,” Tom said. “You mentioned that.”
“Still, she admitted to as much when I asked her about it, and she was more than willing to answer my questions about who put Dominguez on our tails.”
“Care to share that information?”
“I was going to follow up on that myself.”
“I trust you to keep it legal, Clint. Far as I’m concerned, you’re justified to pay this asshole a visit without crossing the line.”
“I think I can manage that,” Clint said.
“If there’s anything I can do to help, you just need to ask.”
“Is there a way you could check on a man by the name of Galloway who works for Western Union?”
“How much do you need to know?”
“Just where he is.”
Tom shrugged. “Shouldn’t be too hard. Those fellas usually ain’t too far from a telegraph wire.” Draping an arm around Clint, Tom asked, “You sure there ain’t more to tell me about this lady? As of now, there’s not a lot to throw at her.”
“To be honest, I don’t know if there should be more charges against her. I told you everything I know and don’t have any reason to know any more.”
“What about this assassin? I’ve heard of a man looking like the one you described at a few killings, but that’s about it.”
“Actually, there is something else.” With that, Clint reached behind him to remove Franco’s .44 from under his gun belt. Holding it flat in his hand, Clint showed it to the marshal and explained, “This was his gun. I’ve had a chance to look it over and it’s more than just a pretty, expensive piece.”
Tom let out a slow whistle. “A gun like that would go a long way to fund my retirement.”
“Which is another reason why I’m handing it over to you instead of someone who might actually make good on a notion like that.”
Sighing as if cursing his own conscience, Tom asked, “What else is there to that pistol?”
“Apart from the sapphire and engravings, it’s been modified to be quicker on the draw and deliver a harder punch than most .44s. It’s not quite enough of a change to make it a different caliber, but it would definitely fire a bit farther than a standard gun like this.”
“Ain’t nothing standard about that,” Tom said.
“Exactly. It’s even got a better than average chance of shooting through things that might stop a regular round. If I would’ve known that, I would have been a little more careful going against him.”
Tom shook his head and patted Clint’s shoulder. “Skill will trump firepower any day of the week, my friend.”
“And a bit of luck doesn’t hurt.” With that, Clint handed over the pistol.
“I can ask around to see if anyone else has seen someone carrying a gun like this. That might be enough to tie this Dominguez and maybe even his lady over there to another killing or two.”
Even though that same thing had been on Clint’s mind, he wasn’t anxious to heap more trouble onto Rosa’s back. He was also quick to remind himself that if Tom Clark connected her to more deaths, then she deserved whatever trouble came her way.
“I’m going to get a room for the night and some real food in my belly,” Clint said. “And don’t think I’ll let you off the hook where those beers are concerned.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Tom said. “My wife’s gonna insist you come over for dinner, as well. Ducking her ain’t too wise.”
“I’ll stay on an extra day for some home cooking.”
“Then it’s settled. I believe there’s a card game or two to be had at the Blaylock Saloon. That should keep you busy until I meet you there. We can have some beers and swap stories.”
Clint tipped his hat to the marshal and started to walk away. The younger lawman was cutting Rosa’s ropes and helping her down from the horse. Knowing she was in good hands, Clint led Eclipse to the closest stable.
TWENTY-THREE
The Blaylock was a small saloon that not a lot of people knew about. Fortunately for the saloon’s owners, enough poker players preferred their tables over the others in Carson City for them to keep the place open for business. It also served good enough food to keep Clint there for the entire night after he checked into his room.
After a hearty meal, Clint sat in on a friendly game until he saw Tom Clark walk through the front door. U.S. Marshal Clark tossed a wave in Clint’s direction, found his way to the bar, and ordered two beers. By the time Clint stepped up beside him, Tom had already drained over half of his first mug.
“Any luck?” Tom asked.
Clint patted his pocket and replied, “Enough that I needed to cash out rather than pay up.”
“You been cheating the locals again?”
“Buy some chips and see for yourself.”
“I may look stupid, but I know better than to sit across a card table from you. Been waiting long?”
“Not long enough for me to lose interest.”
Tom laughed and pushed a full mug of beer to Clint. “And aren’t you in high spirits all of a sudden?”
“It feels good knowing that I’ll have a mattress under me tonight.”
“And something soft and warm on top of you, if I’m guessing correctly.”
“Just sleep will be fine for tonight.”
Shrugging, Tom finished his beer and slapped the bar for another. “I hate to knock the grin off yer face, but I already heard back about that gun you handed over.”
“And?”
“And a few other marshals in New Mex recognized it the moment I brought up the sapphire in the handle.”
“What about the man who carried it?” Clint asked.
“They said something about a Mexican fella, but he could have also been a Spaniard. My gut tells me he could have also been Chinese for all they know. They seemed a hell of a lot clearer about the gun.”
“That figures. So that means Dominguez was either real good at keeping his head down or there’s more than one person using that gun.”
“Or one just like it,” Tom added.
“I thought about that, too. Actually, I was trying not to think about it.”
The marshal shrugged his shoulders. “Sounds to me like you handled that Spanish fella well enough.”
“I got lucky once or twice,” Clint said as he thought back to the first shot that had been fired when Franco ambushed him and Johnny while on the trail. “If there is some sort of organization of assassins at work here, it’s going to take a lot more luck than anyone has to get through them all.”
“And what makes you think they’d throw all they got at you?” Tom winced and added, “Maybe I should put that another way.”
“Point taken,” Clint said. “Did you find out anything else?”
“I sure did! Galloway’s still right where you left him. I just sent a wire to the spot you mentioned before and got an answer right quick.”
Clint nodded and took another drink of his beer. The brew was a good balance that left a nice flavor in his mouth while also having enough alcohol in it to calm his nerves. “Then I’ll be heading back that way. If he hired that assassin to come after me and Johnny, that makes him just as guilty as the one who pulled the trigger.”
“More guilty if you
ask me,” Tom grumbled.
“You think so?”
“Hell yes! A real assassin, not just a killer but a real professional, don’t kill nobody unless he gets paid for it.”
“An assassin is a killer, the last time I checked.”
“Sure, and a real good one. Most killers are mean-spirited, wicked souls, or just plain foul drunks. They’re dangerous because they’re bound to go off and hurt anyone around them when they do. That’s the sort of person paying the money to an assassin. They’ve got all the bad intent behind what they’re doing, but just don’t have the guts to pull the trigger.
“The assassin may be a killer, but he’s really no worse than the gun he holds,” Tom said, while making the shape of a pistol with his thumb and forefinger. “He’ll sit nice and quiet without harming a soul. He’ll go to church and live a long time without making a fuss. If nobody hires him for long enough, he’ll find some other line of work. Once that asshole with the money steps up . . .” To cap off his own sentence, Tom dropped his thumb as the hammer of his make-believe pistol.
Clint laughed and leaned against the bar. “No worse than the gun he holds, huh? In this case, that’s saying a lot.”
“Sure enough. That’s one hell of a gun.”
TWENTY-FOUR
A few days passed, and Clint spent the first of them socializing with the Clarks. He had some more beers with Tom, played cards at the Blaylock Saloon, and ate dinner with the marshal and his wife. Once that was done, Clint saddled up Eclipse and rode out of Carson City to retrace his steps west to where he’d met up with Johnny Blevin.
As those same days passed, Johnny bought a ticket on a ship bound for Wales, with a carriage meant to drive him all the way into London. He left from a small port that didn’t bat an eye at the fake name they were given. Johnny spent his time trading off between savoring his newly found wealth and looking over his shoulder for someone carrying a sapphire gun.
The passage of those days hit Rosa especially hard, since she spent them in a jail cell. Tom and his men treated her just fine, but the walls were thick enough to keep the sights and sounds of the outside world away from her. The food was terrible, the water was dirty, and she had nothing to do but pace, sit and sleep.
The Sapphire Gun Page 8
