“Four years ago.”
“And you’ve been living here alone all this time?”
She nodded.
No wonder she was leery of strangers. She probably hadn’t spoken to anyone for years.
“When was the last time the gang rode into town?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Years.”
“And you’re still waiting for them to come back?”
“I plan on hunting them,” she said. “I got my pa’s rifle and handgun. I’m gonna find them.”
“When?”
“I was waitin’ until I was good enough.”
“What have you been eating all this time?”
“I had plenty of food,” she said. “All over town. The general store, people’s cupboards.”
“That has to run out sometime,” he said.
“I know,” she said. “This was the last of the beans.”
“I, uh, took a couple of cans of peaches from the general store. It looked like that was all that was left. I’m sorry. I can return one—”
“That’s okay,” she said. “A man’s gotta eat.”
“So when were you planning on starting your hunt?” he asked.
“A day or so,” she said. “I got my horse hid in one of the other houses.”
He didn’t bother telling her that he’d seen it.
“Gloria . . . how many times has the gang been back since everybody left?”
“A lot,” she said. “They came back every week for six months after the last person left.”
“I wonder why they didn’t burn it down,” he said. “Or knock down that gallows.”
She shrugged.
“Gloria, if you know who those men are, you should go to the law.”
“They killed the law.”
“Go to St. Joe, to the federal authorities, and tell them what you know.”
“It won’t make a difference,” she said. “I’ll hunt them myself.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-two.”
“You’ve never killed a man before. What makes you think you can?”
“I can,” she said. “The hate that burns inside me says I can.”
He got up, stared down at her.
“I’m leaving in the morning,” he said. “You’re welcome to ride along for a while, if you like.”
“That’s okay,” she said. “I’m used to bein’ alone.”
“Suit yourself,” he said, “but I’ll be leaving from the saloon at first light, if you change your mind.”
“I won’t.”
“Thanks for the beans,” he said. “Sorry they were your last.”
“Had to run out, sometime.”
He stared down at her, realized that with a scrub and a nice dress she’d look real pretty. It was a shame that hate was going to eat that up eventually.
He slept fitfully in the saloon, then got up early and saddled Eclipse. He looked over at the lone can of peaches sitting on the bare floor, thought about leaving them, but eventually shoved them into his saddlebag.
Briefly, he thought about forcing his help on Gloria, but in the end he decided that wasn’t a good idea. When he walked out of the saloon to mount Eclipse, he found her waiting out there for him, on foot.
“I need help,” she said.
“Well,” he said, “I guess I don’t have to leave today.”
NINE
He stayed another week. Gloria had a stash of food that lasted just about that long. He worked her with a rifle, and then with a handgun. The pistol she had was an old Colt that belonged to her father. At first Clint thought she should replace that gun as soon as possible, but he found that she had a natural aptitude with it. She was fairly adept with the rifle, but after only two days she began to excel with the handgun. All he had to do was get her to “squeeze” the trigger rather than “pull,” and “point” the gun rather than “aim” it.
Clint continued to sleep in the saloon while Gloria remained at the house. They did their shooting behind the house, and also had their meals there.
On the last night, they finished off the remnants of the food.
“I’m going to ride west tomorrow,” he said, “heading for Colorado. You’re welcome to come along.”
“I think I’m going to go east, into Missouri,” she said. “I have a friend in Joplin who might be able to give me some information.”
“Well, suit yourself,” he said. “My offer stands if you want to meet me in front of the saloon in the morning.”
“Thank you.”
They drank coffee in silence, each alone with private thoughts.
“Clint?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think I’m ready?”
“You have a natural aptitude with a handgun, Gloria,” he said, “but are you ready to take on a gang of outlaws? No. It’s more than likely you’ll end up getting killed.”
“That’s what I thought you’d say.”
“But you’re still going to go after them?”
“Yes,” she said. “I don’t have a choice.”
“I can actually understand that,” he said.
Gloria cleared away the debris of their meal and stoked the fire that she’d also be sleeping next to. She pulled out her bedroll and blanket as Clint stood, preparing to leave.
“You’ve been real generous, Clint,” she said, turning to face him. “Can I ask one more favor?”
“Sure,” Clint said. “If I can do it, it’s yours.”
“Would you stay here with me tonight?” she asked.
“Gloria—”
“I ain’t never been with a man.”
“You’re a virgin?”
“Well, no,” she said, “I mean, I been with boys, I just ain’t never been with a man. If I’m gonna die soon, I’d like to know what it’s like, just once . . . at least.”
In the flickering firelight she was very beautiful. He was suddenly sad that she might be going to her death, but this was something she had to do, and he knew she had to do it alone. There was no way he could go with her, commit a good part of his life to her quest, but he could at least do this for her.
He moved closer to her, took her by the shoulders, and kissed her. She moaned into his mouth and leaned into him. He unbuttoned her shirt and slid his hand inside to cup one of her firm, young breasts. He flicked the nipple with his thumb as he kissed her neck, and she sighed.
He pulled her shirt free from her belt so he could completely unbutton it and remove it. Her skin glowed in the light from the fire. Her breasts were like large, ripe peaches, fitting nicely in his hand, her pink nipples stiff beneath his thumbs.
Returning the favor, Gloria unbuttoned Clint’s shirt and pulled it off him, started kissing his neck and shoulders. Briefly they parted long enough to remove their gun belts, boots, and trousers, and then, naked, they came back together. As he pulled her to him, running his hands over her back and buttocks, her skin burned him. He kissed her shoulders, her breasts, tongued her nipples until she groaned and went weak-kneed. He eased her down onto her back on the blanket, determined to give her a night she could remember. Maybe it would even be such a pleasurable night that she would decide to go on living rather than try to hunt the Pettigrews down.
He continued to roam her body with his mouth and his hands. He kissed her breasts while sliding his hand down between her legs. She stiffened for just a moment when he touched her, but then relaxed and let her legs fall open. When she was very wet, he removed his hand, and kissed his way down over her belly until he was settled between her legs. He kissed the soft skin of her thighs, breathed in the scent of her excitement, and then finally pressed his tongue and mouth into the damp tangle of pubic hair. She jerked at the moment he touched her, but then sighed and relaxed, reaching down to cup his head and hold him there. He licked and kissed her, enjoying not only the scent but the taste of her. Eventually he slid his hands beneath her buttocks and lifted her up, held her there so he had easier ac
cess to her. At that point her belly began to tremble. She closed her hands into fists, wrapping her fingers in his hair, and then, at the moment her excitement overtook her, she lifted her hips and pressed herself even more tightly to his face as his tongue entered her . . .
Not much later, when Gloria had regained her breath, she took Clint’s rigid penis in her hand and slid down between his legs to explore him with a murmured “My turn . . .”
She pressed him to her face, licking the length of him until he was very wet, and then taking him into her mouth. She suckled him while closing her fist around the base of him and using her other hand to lightly caress his testicles.
When Clint thought he could stand no more, he reached down for her and forcefully pulled her up on top of him. She grabbed his hard cock, pressed it to her soaking vagina, and sat down on him so that he was deep inside of her. She began to rock on him then, while he pawed her firm breasts, the flickering firelight throwing shadows on her. Finally, she lay down flat on him, bouncing her buttocks up and down with more and more speed until they both cried out in a mixture of pleasure and exquisite pain . . .
TEN
TWO MONTHS LATER . . .
Clint saw the light.
No, he didn’t see God. He actually saw a light in the distance. That was a good sign. It was snowing, and his jacket wasn’t exactly keeping the cold off him. Why he had ever thought to go to Minnesota in February was beyond him.
He patted Eclipse’s broad neck and said, “We’re going to head for that light, boy, and hope it’s coming from a fire.”
Eclipse didn’t mind the cold, but Clint didn’t have the same kind of coat the Darley Arabian did.
“Let’s move, big boy,” Clint said. “Maybe there’s hot coffee there as well.”
Lori Gregory put a plate of food on the table in front of the man who’s foul body odor permeated the entire house.
“Get me some more coffee!” he barked.
“Right away.”
The man had kept her in the house for five days now, since he first arrived and asked if she could part with an extra blanket. Instead of taking the blanket and leaving, he’d forced his way into the house and taken her prisoner.
She tried to tell him that her husband would be coming back home soon, but the man didn’t believe her. Or he didn’t care. If her husband hadn’t already died the year before, he would certainly have been in danger now.
She didn’t know what to do. She was just waiting for an opportunity to get away, but the man was very careful not to give her any openings. He tied their legs together, her left to his right, when they went to bed at night—after he was finished raping her. If she couldn’t find a way to escape soon, she thought suicide might end up being her only answer.
She poured him some more coffee, and thought briefly about throwing the hot liquid into his face.
“Don’t even think about it, girl,” he told her, as if reading her mind. “Even if you blinded me, I’d grab you and snap your neck.”
His name was Jerry, and she was totally cowed by him. She believed every threat he made.
“All right.”
He sipped the coffee, made a face, then sipped it again. She waited to see if he would throw it at her. When he didn’t, she heaved a small sigh of relief and went back to the stove.
“Bring me some more potatoes.”
She looked in the pot. There were more potatoes, but not a lot more. She hoped these would be enough to satisfy him.
“Come on,” Jerry shouted. “I need more food. I got to keep up my strength. You think it’s easy rapin’ you every night?”
She closed her eyes, fighting back tears. If it was only once a night that he raped her, she might have been able to handle it.
Clint rode to within sight of the small house. The light was shining from the windows. Next to the house was a small barn. He decided to get a closer look on foot, rather than just ride on up.
He dismounted and dropped Eclipse’s reins to the ground. Snow crunched beneath his boots, but he was sure it couldn’t be heard inside. As he neared the barn, he suddenly heard a man’s voice shouting from inside the house. He couldn’t make out what was being said, but somebody was mad.
There were two horses in the barn, only one of which was used to pull a plow or a buggy. The other looked like a decent trail horse that had been ridden a long way—and ridden hard.
More shouting from the house. He left the barn and moved closer to the main structure. From the outside it looked like a two-room house. A husband and wife, maybe one child.
He got to one window and peered in. A man was seated at a table, a woman standing next to him. He had hold of her wrist and he wasn’t treating her gently. But if he was her husband, she was used to it.
Clint decided to just watch, and wait.
“This is all that’s left?” he asked.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t—”
“You ate too much!” he said, grabbing her wrist. “Bitch!”
He stood up and slapped her, then reached out, grabbed the front of her dress, and pulled. He tore the garment from her so that she was completely naked. He forbade her to wear underwear.
He reached out and grabbed a breast that was already bruised.
“I’ll teach you to eat my supper,” he said.
Clint watched only until the man tore the dress from her body. Husband or not, that was no way to treat a woman.
He ran to the front door, lifted his right foot, and lashed out.
When Jerry heard the door slam open, he turned to look at the man who entered.
“What the—” he said.
“I told you!” Lori said. “I told you my husband would be back!”
That was all Clint needed to hear.
“Son of a—”
The man’s gun belt was hanging on the back of his chair. He went for the gun.
“Don’t!” Clint said, but he knew there was no other way. He drew his gun.
“Kill him! Kill him!” the woman shouted, covering herself up with her hands and arms.
Clint killed him.
He fired once. The man never got his gun clear. The impact of the bullet tossed him onto the table, his arms spread out.
The woman darted forward, grabbed a steak knife from the table, and began stabbing the dead man over and over again.
Clint’s first instinct was to stop her, but he knew she had probably suffered a lot at the hands of this man, so he let her continue until finally she slumped to the floor, exhausted.
ELEVEN
Clint took the body outside and left it in the snow. He didn’t know what he was going to do with it come morning. When he came back into the house, the woman had a robe wrapped around her and was hugging herself as if it was cold, despite the fact that the oven and the fireplace were keeping the house fairly warm.
“My name is Clint Adams,” he said. “I wish I could have introduced myself before the shooting started. What’s your name?”
“Are you like him?” she asked.
“I don’t understand,” he said. “Am I like—what was he like?”
“Do you plan to stay around for a few days, rape me two or three times a day?”
“Ma’am,” Clint said, “I just rode up to your house because I saw the light. When I looked in the window and saw what was happening, I thought you needed help. If you like, I’ll leave—”
“No,” she said, “no . . . I don’t want to be alone.”
“What’s your name?”
“Lori Gregory.”
“I’m sorry for what that man did to you, Lori,” he said. “How long . . . I mean . . .”
“He’s been here five days,” she said. “He’s beaten me, and raped me, and made me serve him for five days.”
“But . . . your husband . . .”
“He’s dead,” she said. “He died last winter.”
“But you told that man—”
“I told him my husband was comin’ back, but he
didn’t believe me. But he said if I was tellin’ the truth, he’d kill my husband when he came back.”
Quick thinking on her part, he thought. Make the man think that Clint was the husband so he’d go for his gun.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It was all I could think of . . .”
“You could use a doctor, Lori,” he said. “What’s the nearest town? I’ll take you—”
“Can we do that in the morning?” she asked. “You look tired, and I haven’t slept in five nights.”
“He didn’t let you sleep?”
“He tied our legs together so I couldn’t slip out of bed. I couldn’t sleep that way.”
“No, I don’t suppose you could.”
“If you don’t mind, Mr. Adams, I’m going to try to get some sleep. The stove is still hot, if you want to fix yourself somethin’ to eat.”
“I’m obliged, Lori.”
“No,” she said, “I’m the one who’s obliged. I think he might have killed me this time.”
“What set him off?”
“I guess I didn’t make enough potatoes.”
“Well . . . go and get some sleep. I’m going to see to my horse, and then I’ll come back in and make use of your stove. After that, I’ll bed down in the barn—”
“No,” she said, “you’ll freeze to death.”
“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, thinking I might—”
“It’s okay,” she said. “I don’t think you’re like him.”
“Thanks.”
“But if you are,” she said, “I’ll have a knife in the bedroom with me. If you do try to come in, I’ll use it . . . on myself. I probably should have killed myself days ago, but I think I was too much of a coward then.”
“Lori—”
“Have a good meal, and a good night, Mr. Adams,” she said. “We can talk again in the morning.”
She headed for the bedroom.
“Just one more question?”
She stopped in the doorway. “Sure.”
“Did you know his name?”
The Dead Town Page 3
