by Alan David
Miller’s Crossing sprawled haphazardly along the bank of a narrow stream, a one-street town of adobe buildings and no sidewalks, where dust was inches thick in the hot season and mud made horses flounder whenever a storm burst. But the Railroad had come through the town and brought with it a flourish of prosperity. Manning sighed heavily as he rode in during late afternoon, when the hot sun was still baking everything and the wind continued to throw dust at anything in its way. He stepped down out of his saddle in front of the telegraph office and entered to ask the operator if there were any messages for him.
‘Been waiting for you to get in,’ came the disgruntled reply. ‘The wires have been humming ever since this morning. But there’s only one message you need to worry about. The eight-twenty to El Paso was held up at Three Mile Grade and fifty thousand dollars in gold was stolen. There was a dozen of them in the gang, and they killed the conductor and the fireman. I got no other particulars yet. There’s a lot of panic going on, I figure. Asa Blaine was in here earlier, but soon as he got word of the hold-up he hopped the next train back to Buffalo Junction.’
‘Did he leave any word for me?’
‘Yeah. He figures you’d better stick around here until the night freight and be ready to take it back to Buffalo Junction. There’s a shipment of gold aboard and he figures it might get some attention from this new gang.’
‘Was there any word of Willard Blaine? He was on the eight-twenty, going to Broken Rail.’ Manning narrowed his eyes as the telegrapher shook his head, wondering if that was why Asa had chased back to Buffalo Junction. He realised that it was not just another gang that had come into the area to operate. Ben Yaro had tried to lift that gold the night before in town, and when he failed he had made the second attempt while the gold was being moved. But how had he known it would be on the eight-twenty? He set his teeth into his bottom lip. It had occurred to him more than once that the outlaws operating in these parts always seemed to have good inside information on the movements of valuables on the Railroad. They had to get that information from somewhere, and it looked as if someone connected with the company was giving it to them.
He did not like that thought, and suppressed a sigh as he turned away.
‘I’ll be in the saloon, if you should need me,’ he told the telegrapher. ‘Let me know if anything breaks, huh? I’ll be ready to hop on the night freight unless we get anything from Asa saying different.’
The telegrapher nodded grimly, and Manning noted that the man was wearing a gunbelt and holstered sixgun. It was a sign of the times, he thought. He wanted to get back to Buffalo Junction to hold a council of war with Asa. They had to change their tactics drastically if they hoped to win this war.
‘Send a message to Asa telling him that I’ve arrived here and I’m waiting,’ he ordered, and turned to take his horse along to the stable.
He went along to the saloon, feeling the need of a drink to cut the dust from his throat. Only Monte Hudson, the saloon-man who also owned the Big Chance saloon in Buffalo Junction, was leaning against the bar.
‘Howdy, Monte, what are you doing here?’
‘I always come in once a week to check on the place,’ Hudson replied. ‘But I’m glad you’ve showed up, Chet. Asa said you would be along some time today.’
‘Yeah? What do you know that would interest me?’ Manning took up the foaming schooner of beer which Hudson slid before him and buried his nose in it, drinking deeply until he had almost emptied the big glass. He gleaned information from the most surprising places, and thought Hudson had something for him. Leaning his elbows upon the polished mahogany counter, he gazed into the suave man’s dark eyes.
‘I’ve hired a new girl who’s going to Buffalo Junction on the freight tonight, when I go back,’ Hudson said. ‘I know you’re a man with a discerning eye, Chet, and this one is some looker. I owe you a favour or two, and I reckon you ought to meet this girl before those hogs in Buffalo Junction get the chance to put their dirty paws on her.’
‘Where is she?’ Manning could not conceal his eagerness, and saw a hard smile touch the saloonman’s lips. Everyone knew his reputation with women, he told himself, stifling a sigh. But he was only human, although he was doing the work of two ordinary men. ‘I got some time on my hands,’ he added lamely. ‘I’m waiting to catch that night freight back to Buffalo Junction.’
‘She’s in my upstairs room. Come on up and I’ll introduce you to her.’
‘Why me?’ Manning demanded as they ascended the ornate staircase.
‘Never look a gift horse in the mouth.’ Hudson smiled as he glanced sideways to meet Manning’s hard gaze. ‘I owe you a few favours, don’t I? And this is no skin off my nose. The girl is gonna bring me in a lot of business, and you’ve helped me in the past.’
‘That wasn’t done as a personal favour to you, Monte. You’re only operating around the Railroad because you run a straight gambling joint and your girls don’t roll our workers.’
‘That’s the reputation I got, and I’m proud of it.’ Hudson was smiling as they paused at a door, and he knocked loudly. ‘We’ve all got reputations, Chet, and they strip us bare of all pretence. We can’t hide a damn thing from each other, can we? So you know what kind of a man I am and I know you better than your mother ever did. Life is gonna get tough around you pretty soon, and you’re gonna have a fight on your hands. If I can help you then I’ll do so, because helping you is the same as helping myself.’
Manning did not reply. There was a pulse beating in his throat, and he was aware only that he did not present a handsome picture, dust-stained and sweaty, with dirty clothes. But the thought of a good-looking woman, a stranger, filled him with an aching lust that sent waves of thrilling agony through his loins. He was breathing fast and shallow when the door was opened.
The woman who appeared was in her middle twenties, tall and slender, small-waisted, with wide, sensuous lips and dark eyes that gleamed as they regarded him. Her skin was dark and smooth, her shoulder-length hair black as storm clouds. She was wearing a dressing gown that was lacy and exciting, and practically open all the way down the front. Her face was beautiful, without that hardness of the eyes and mouth which marred most saloongirls. She did not look at Hudson but fixed her attention upon Manning as if aware that he was here for a special purpose. Her lips pulled gently into a welcoming smile, and Manning saw that her teeth were small and very clean.
‘Glory, this is Chet Manning, chief troubleshooter for S & W. He’s a good man to know, for he makes sure I get a lot of Railroad business, so be nice to him. He’s catching the night freight back to Buffalo Junction with us. I’ll be down in the saloon should you want anything. Chet, this is Glory Harpe, She’ll help you while away a few hours.’
Even before he finished speaking, Hudson was retiring diplomatically, and Manning stood gazing at the girl, fighting the emotions piling up in his mind. There was nothing else he could do for the Railroad until he returned to Buffalo Junction, and there were several hours to kill until the night freight pulled out. Always an opportunist, he jumped at the chance to have himself a good time, and the expression on his face seemed to convey something to the woman, for she smiled as she held out a hand to him.
‘Hello, Chet.’ Her voice was as enticing as her figure. ‘Come on in and make yourself at home. We’ve got several hours before that train leaves, haven’t we?’
He nodded, and began to wish that the train would never arrive.
Chapter Seven
Glory’s fingers were cool on Manning’s thick wrist as she grasped him firmly and led him into the room. A large case lay opened upon the double bed, and some of her clothes were strewn around it. A hip bath stood in the centre of the room, filled with soapy water, and she smiled apologetically when she saw him glance at it.
‘I’ll have that removed,’ she said quickly.
‘Don’t bother. I could do with a bath myself.’ He lifted a hand to his chin, thankful that he had taken the trouble to shave that morning.<
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‘Be my guest!’ She chuckled. ‘I’ll go and get some drinks while you shuck your clothes and start soaking.’
He studied her for a moment, surprised that she was such a good-looking woman for a saloongirl. There were some beauties amongst that breed, but they were all of a type and she did not seem to fit in. She looked sweet and innocent and he drew a long, anticipatory breath and held it for a moment as she left the room to go down to the bar.
But he was not a man to waste time. He removed his gunbelt and holster, placing them beside the washtub, then took off his clothes quickly and stepped into the warm water, sinking down to sit and relax. A great sigh escaped him and he leaned his head against the back of the bath. It was good to relax, and he grinned tightly when he considered that, with all the trouble building up around the Railroad, he was now stranded for several hours with nothing constructive to do. But his smile faded when he considered the girl and the way Monte Hudson had steered him to her. Hudson had always been good to him with women, knowing his weakness, and it was true that he had done Hudson some favours merely by keeping the more unwelcome and unscrupulous gamblers and saloonmen away from this area of the Railroad. Monte Hudson was a fine man in his line of business, and it helped working relations to have such a person controlling the local entertainment.
Glory returned, carrying a large tray on which was a bottle of Hudson’s best whisky, two glasses, and a couple of schooners of root beer. She closed and bolted the door, then turned to look at Manning, who grinned at her.
‘I must be dreaming,’ he said softly. ‘Here I am in the middle of a Railroad war, and I find myself with the opportunity to spend a few hours with a very beautiful woman. But tell me what you’re doing in a business like this. You don’t look the type.’
‘I won’t ask about your past if you won’t question me,’ she responded. ‘You must know that you’re wasting very precious time by talking, huh?’ She picked up a beer from the tray and brought it to him, her dressing gown falling open as she bent towards him, and Manning’s teeth clicked together. ‘Drink that.’ Her voice was low-pitched and musical. ‘I’ll help you with your bathing. Then we can get down to pleasure. You’ve got the kind of body I dream about.’
He smiled, drank some beer, then stood up in the bath, rising like a small giant. She looked at him with real pleasure showing in her brown eyes. His body was firm and muscular, thanks to his harsh, unrelenting way of life. There was no superfluous flesh on his frame; his ribs showed plainly beneath the smooth skin, which was white in contrast to his arms, neck and face. The slenderness of youth had given way to a thickening of shoulders and neck, but it was all rippling muscle. He was in his prime and proud of the fact. He was powerful and rangy, raw-boned, and filled with violent strength. His eyes were gentle now, filled with yearning, but they could flash with determination and fury, and she knew by his reputation that he was an implacable enemy.
‘Sit down and I’ll get to work,’ she said, and there was a slight tremor of emotion in her tone which belied her assured manner. ‘I am beginning to think that you are intent on wasting what little time we’ve got.’
He sat down quickly, splashing water from the bath, and she knelt at his side, leaning forward to slide her arms about his shoulders. She exclaimed at the feel of his flesh and looked at his upper body to discover several scars.
‘Gunshot wounds?’ she demanded in awe, for there were at least half a dozen marks that indicated bullet strikes, and a long, jagged scar stretched down the inside of his right arm from armpit to wrist.
‘Badges of my job,’ he retorted, reaching for her. ‘But they don’t affect me none. I’m still a whole man.’
He grasped and kissed her with such passion that he stole her breath, and while she squirmed he tugged at the dressing gown, pulling it from her slender body so that they were both naked. His narrowed eyes feasted upon the swell of her breasts, and his fingers became clutching talons as desire hammered through him. She grew dizzy with passion, and he felt unsteady. He was ready for her now. He had killed three men since that last girl in El Paso and he wanted to eradicate the memory from his mind.
She surrendered to his caresses, and made no protest when he threw a leg over the side of the tin bath and rolled out of it, dripping water all over the floor. He pinned her down on the thin mat, his senses whirling, already lost in a labyrinth of unreality. Nothing else mattered but that he attacked her with all his strength and might. His fingers were powerful as they kneaded her flesh, while she pressed closer, as eager as he. Manning groaned as he thrust his right hand between her thighs, groping for soft inner flesh. He sent his hand exploring higher, shot through with a tremendous thrill as he felt the yielding of her moist inner sanctum.
The feel of him aroused her to fever pitch and she dug her nails into his flesh before sending her slim fingers in search of his manhood. He tremored at the convulsive clutch of her hand and began to thrust against her, violent and powerful. She guided him quickly, afraid of his strength, and he slammed into her gaping warmth. She gasped and jerked spasmodically, ready for the experience of her life, but, at the very instant he felt his flesh lunge into her, Manning lost control of himself and burst into an overpowering orgasm. He cursed and groaned alternately as he was gripped by an ecstatic seizure, and tremors racked his whole body when he found blessed release.
He sank down upon her naked flesh and relaxed, his mind clearing of emotion. Harsh reality returned and he groaned in despair. But the accumulated pressures of recent fighting and riding overcame him and he closed his eyes and let go his hold upon consciousness, nestling his face against her breast. She reached out for a cover and drew it across them, despite the discomfort of her position, and Manning knew no more until a board creaked outside the room some two hours later and the sound of it brought him instantly to alertness and had him reaching for his holstered gun. He lunged away from her to bring the big weapon out of leather just as a fist hammered on the door, and glanced around to get his bearings as he cocked the gun. The girl gazed at him with respect in her dark eyes.
‘Who in hell is that?’ he demanded.
‘Telegraph for you.’ It was the operator. ‘You wanted to know if something happened. Well I got news.’
‘Stick the wire under the door,’ Manning replied, getting lithely to his feet.
‘Nope. You better listen to what I got to tell you. I wrote down the main points, but there was too much to get as it came in. Asa was transmitting, and he was in a powerful hurry.’
Manning pulled on his pants and hat and put away his gun. He showed his teeth to the girl in a mirthless grin, then opened the door a fraction.
‘What the hell is it?’ he demanded. ‘Is it important?’
‘You can check it out and decide that,’ came the straight reply. ‘My job is just to take messages.’
‘So what have you got?’
‘Asa wants you over to Gadson Flats. There’s word that a gang hit the supply depot there, and a lot of what Ike Mozee wants on the new line has been destroyed. Asa is hopping mad, judging by what he tapped out. He’s blaming himself and you for not thinking of those supplies, and it could hold up construction if they can’t get hold of fresh gear.’
‘Hell, I ain’t. concerned about supplies!’ Manning shook his head. ‘Asa will get some more through in time, no matter what it costs. We’re playing this wrong by dancing to Yaro’s tune. He can hit us when and where he likes and there’s little we can do about that. What we’ve got to do is strike out on our own and hit him when he ain’t expecting it.’
‘Be like looking for a needle in a haystack, trying to find him and his boys.’
‘Yeah. Well running around checking up on damage he’s done ain’t gonna win this war for us. Send a wire to Asa. Tell him I got his message but I ain’t going to Gadson Flats. I’m catching the night freight back to Buffalo Junction as arranged. There’s something important I want to talk over with Asa, but don’t put that in the wire.’
‘Okay, but it’s your funeral.’ The operator turned away. ‘And if you plan on making the night freight then you’ll have to start thinking of getting ready. It’ll be arriving in about an hour.’
‘Thanks. You’ve got a boy, ain’t you? Send him to the livery barn to collect my horse when it’s time. I want it loaded in a boxcar and I’ll see him at the train.’
The operator nodded and departed, and Manning went back into the room to find Glory lying on the bed, stretched out with the cover pulled carelessly across her slender body.
‘Lock it,’ she commanded in a low-pitched voice. ‘It won’t take you more than a couple of minutes to put on your clothes. Now that you’ve rested I figure you owe me something. I’ve just about broken my spine, lying like a pillow for you on that hard floor.’
‘I always pay my debts,’ he responded, feeling desire moving like a snake in his groin. He dropped his hat and slid out of his pants, then went to the bed.
‘This time try and be more gentle, and take your time,’ she advised softly. ‘I’m not one of your usual saloongirls.’
He paused as he dropped on to the bed beside her and looked into her shadowed face.
‘What are you?’ he demanded. ‘And where did you come from? What are you doing in a two-bit joint like this and what made you take on with Monte Hudson? You’ve got class, unless I miss my guess by a mile. You could do a lot better for yourself.’
‘We agreed not to get personal,’ she replied, reaching out white arms for him, and Manning felt the tug of her body and promptly forgot everything but that he had one more chance to relax before hitting action again.
He bent his head, kissing her breasts, compressing his lips around the nipples, holding her with one powerful arm while his free hand moved slowly along the gentle curve of her long thighs, caressing the soft flesh gently and slowly, his instincts guiding him. She knew how to tantalise him, and used her skill while she slipped under the spell of his movements. Her voice was soft in the back of her throat, making little, inarticulate sounds, and she arched her body as he warmed to his work.
