She seemed to be all woman: and from what Edge had seen and heard of her, she was his kind of woman. No ravishing beauty, but even if she had been, his feelings as he lay in the big bed would not have been different. Crystal Dickens struck a chord in him and he had done slightly more than imply an invitation to her. If she accepted, he could hope for a pleasant interlude. And if she did not show up . . . well, the man called Edge never did miss what he had never had. He had lost too much that was his.
Knuckles rapped on the door. And the half-breed reached a bare arm out of the bed and fisted his hand round the frame of the Winchester that lay on the floor.
‘It’s me,’ the blonde called anxiously.
‘Key’s in the lock,’ he answered, releasing his grip on the rifle. ‘Use it when you’re inside.’
She hesitated for long moments. Then cracked the door open just wide enough so that she could move sideways into the room. There was no lamp on the landing but enough light rose up the stairway from the lobby for Edge to see that she was still fully dressed except for the hat. Then, with the door closed at her back he could see just the pale blur of her face.
The key turned in the lock.
‘The Pepper boy told me about you getting a double room,’ she said tautly. ‘You’re not lacking in self-confidence, are you?’
‘Comes of being rich.’
She moved away from the door and he heard the floorboards creak under her feet. Then she halted at the side of the bed and said:
‘It’s the worst kind of rich people who take advantage of the poor. How did you know I was broke?’
Now, as Edge continued to gaze up at the ceiling, he heard the fabric-on-fabric sounds of the woman taking off her clothes.
‘I didn’t.’
She snorted and snapped: ‘You simply thought I couldn’t resist your many charms?’ Then kicked off her boots angrily as she accused: ‘You arrogant sonofabitch!’
Edge allowed his breath to expel with the sound of a soft sigh. And murmured as he turned his head on the pillow to look up at her: ‘I asked and you came here, lady. What we are and why we do what we do ain’t important.’
He could see more than just the paleness of her face in the dark of the room now: for she had stripped herself naked and the entire length and breadth of her body was faintly and alluringly visible in the night. And he experienced an extension of the arousal which had stirred when they looked at each other in the Red Dog after Wilde had asked for their names. But this was gone quicker than it came when she rasped:
‘Maybe not to you, mister! But before I get into your bed I want to know how much you’ll give me after I leave it!’
‘I always pay my way,’ he answered, and pulled back the covers for her. The movement was slow and his voice soft. So that what he did next was even more shocking to her because he had revealed not the slightest hint of his intention.
He reached for her with both hands, so fast that she was not aware of it until his left hand bunched in her hair at the nape of her neck. And a split second later his right cracked against the flesh of her face. He hit her twice on each cheek. Back handed and with the palm. With an effortless force and speed which left her breathless and unable to move until the brief beating was over. Only then did she feel the smarting pain of the blows: and drew her lips wide to vent a scream as she made to wrench herself away from him.
And found the sound trapped in her throat by the punishing hand as the one that gripped her hair jerked her closer to the half-breed. She was on her knees on the floor by then, her naked belly folded over the side of the bed and her bared breasts pressed to his forearms. Her stinging face was no more than six inches away from that of her captor.
For no longer than a second he kept his right hand cupped over her mouth and nostrils. Then withdrew it while his left continued to be fisted in her hair. And he spoke as the breath rushed from her lungs and her heartbeat raced.
‘I pay my way, but not to have my way, lady,’ he said, still softly but with a coldness of tone that she found more terrifying than if he had bellowed at her in a raging temper. ‘I don’t go with whores.’
Now he jerked her away from him and she gasped at the fresh pain that was triggered at the roots of her hair. He released his hold on her and she came up on her knees, then toppled to the side and sprawled across the floor. Where she whimpered, the sounds trickling from her throat created more by humiliation than the rough treatment she had received.
For many seconds she remained where she was, eyes squeezed tightly closed and huddled up as she tried to control the trembling fit that wracked her naked body. Until Edge said evenly:
‘You want some?’
She looked at him and received a tear-and-darkness-hampered impression of him sitting up against the headboard of the bed, extending the bottle of whiskey toward her.
‘I... I never touch alcohol,’ she answered hoarsely.
‘You’re free, white and over twenty-one,’ he told her. ‘Make your own decisions.’
He raised the bottle to his own lips and drank from it. Just a swallow.
‘I’m not a whore.’
‘So no sweat.’
‘It’s just that down in the saloon ... you said you could afford more than words... and I thought you meant…’
She rose unsteadily to her feet, holding the discarded dress modestly in front of her body.
‘I meant I’d like to screw you, lady,’ he said into the rain-broken silence that followed the trailing off of her disjointed explanation. ‘If you wanted to get screwed.’ He set the bottle down on the table. ‘And the offer still stands. Take it or take off back to your own room.’
He straightened the bedclothes where they had been rumpled by his burst of violence: and left them open.
‘You ... you said just now it wasn’t important what we are and why we do things.’
‘Exceptions and rules. Guess nothing else got broken.’
‘Damn you for a selfish bastard!’ she snarled softly, dropped the dress and slid into the bed beside him.
Her face was burning from the blows but her body and limbs were cold against his bed-warmed flesh. He remained in a half-sitting attitude with his shoulders resting on the headboard as she locked her legs around his and embraced him with both arms, pressing her face against the thick growth of hair on his chest.
‘You’re built as hard as you are,’ she whispered after a full minute of silence during which she became as warm as he and ceased to shiver. And moved her fingers across his solidly packed flesh: paused from time to time as her gentle explorations discovered the puckered skin of scar-tissue.
Then her leg moved up his thighs and she uttered a small sound of disappointment: moved a hand down across his belly to double check.
‘You said nothing was changed,’ she groaned, turning her head to look up at him.
‘I ain’t the kind that gets a charge out of beating up on a woman,’ he told her. And took hold of her by the hair again. Gently this time, to ease her head back down on to his chest. While his other hand flung the bedclothes off before moving to caress her cheek. Then with both hands he applied the lightest of pressure: to ask rather than demand that she slide lower down his body.
‘You mean you want . . . you want me to . . . with my mouth . . .’ She caught her breath. Then submitted with a sigh to the gentle urging of his hands: and continued to ease downwards when he released her. ‘I’ve never . . . before ... I don’t know if I’ll . . . oh, my God, it’s starting.’
Her full lips, slightly parted, trailed across the skin of his belly and upper thighs while she whispered the words. And then there was a strange mixture of excitement and awe which triggered a shrillness into her tone as her moving lips found the core of his wanting and drew an immediate response.
‘Having a soft spot for a woman is no good at a time like this,’ Edge murmured.
‘I... I... I...’
‘And it’s no time, either,’ he added, reaching down to cup her cheeks
in his hands, ‘for a woman to get tongue tied.’
Chapter Four
THE FOLLOWING day dawned brightly, the sun glaring down out of a west Texas sky that showed not a trace of the complete cloud-cover that had masked it throughout most of the night. But when Edge opened the window the early-morning air that flowed into the room smelled strongly of the rain-washed land. And he breathed deeply from the freshness of the day which he knew from past experience of countless dawnings in the Southwest would not last for long.
While he relished the sensation of the cool, clean air filling his smoke-parched throat and lungs he squinted against the sunlight and surveyed the terrain which spread eastwards from the far bank of the rain-swollen stream. He had seen in the darkness of night that it was hill country, contrasting with the semi-desert flatlands he had ridden across to reach Irving. Now, in the bright sunlight, he was able to see that close to town the slopes and ridges were sandy and rocky, almost barren of vegetation: while further in the east where the hills were higher they were covered with scrubgrass and featured here and there with stands of timber. And far to the north-east, in the direction from which the stream curved to pass the fringe of town, several head of cattle could be seen on a slope.
The cows were the only signs of life out there. And there were none at all on the street below the hotel window. But people were up and about, if not yet out, in Irving. For the freshness of the damp air was infiltrated with the aromas of woodsmoke, coffee and bacon. Which sparked a new need within Edge as he turned from the window, having satisfied his desire to breathe in the unspoiled newness of early morning. And, he reminded himself when he saw the blanket-covered form of the woman in the bed, after indulging himself in the fulfilment of another of life’s pleasures.
Crystal Dickens had been good, he recalled as he stood naked before the bureau, shaving and hardly needing to glance at his reflection in the mirror. Not the best he had ever had - for no woman could surpass the ecstasy he shared so briefly with Beth whose premature and horrifying death had affected him even more deeply than the killing of Jamie. But better than the worst. For this woman had experience enough not to be afraid to learn more: while not being too well grounded to take her partner’s wants and responses for granted.
When he was fully dressed, she said: That’s it, uh?’ in a tone of voice, lacking the thickness of sleep, which suggested she had been surreptitiously awake for some time.
‘That’s what?’ he countered as he buckled the gunbelt around his waist.
She moved into a sitting attitude, holding up the blanket around her neck: her face expressing pouting irritation in the frame of her sleep-tousled hair. ‘It happened that we both wanted to get laid at the same time. So we did. And now it’s over. Unless or until we both want—’
Edge finished tying the holster-lace around his thigh and pulled open a drawer of the bureau. And as he took out the package of money, surprise caused the woman to break off what she was saying. And her big eyes widened still more as she watched him take some bills from a pants-pocket and push them under the string before he tossed the package on the bed.
‘Keep this in mind, lady,’ he said flatly. ‘Way I see things, there ain’t a woman in the world who’s worth ten thousand dollars for the rent of her body. For a night or a whole lifetime. So you ain’t being paid for sharing my bed.’
He started for the door.
‘What on earth…?’ she began.
‘If you only came west to find me and give me that money, you had a wasted trip,’ Edge told her. ‘It isn’t mine.’
‘But a man who works for the government told me it was,’ the woman came back quickly.
‘Lincoln?’
‘Yes.’
‘He was mistaken. An innocent mistake that put you to a great deal of trouble. On my account. So you keep the money and the account’s settled.’
He unlocked the door, opened it and stepped out onto the landing. Crystal Dickens did not say anything until the door was closed again and by that time the half-breed was unable to hear whether she was giving effusive thanks or protesting. For he was already following his nose, which led him down the stairway, across the deserted lobby and under an arch into a small dining-room. Where the bald-headed and paunchy Sam Pepper was seated at a linen-covered table eating a breakfast of ham and eggs and toasted bread.
The hotelman scowled his distaste for the newcomer as he said: ‘I told you I didn’t want my place used as a whorehouse, mister. Tell you now I won’t have my son take money he ain’t earned. You got fed last night, had a tub and used the room. You got two square meals to come. One dollar sixty total. When you check out you’ll have eighteen forty to come.’ He glanced over his shoulder toward a door which stood ajar. ‘Joel, one breakfast!’
Edge showed no response to the bitterly spoken words as he moved between other tables, drew out a chair and sat down opposite Pepper. Whose scowl took on a frozen quality and then melted into an expression of sweating fear as he turned from looking at the kitchen doorway and found the muzzle of the half-breed’s Frontier Colt hovering an inch away from his nose.
‘Is your son a bastard or were you married to his Ma, feller?’
Sam Pepper swallowed hard as his fork rattled on to the plate from his shaking hand. ‘She was a decent woman, and a fine wife to me for fifteen years until she died.’
Edge nodded almost imperceptibly. ‘And you screwed her lots of times? Not just the once that led to Joel being born?’
Pepper opened his mouth to splutter a protest as his son came in from the kitchen and pulled up short with a sound of horror. And the half-breed continued:
‘And you provided for the boy’s Ma? Who cooked and cleaned and sewed and nursed you when you were sick and, like I said, shared your bed?’
‘Pa, don’t rile him!’ Joel urged tautly. And looked toward the archway where Crystal Dickens had come to an abrupt halt and was staring at the table where the two men sat.
‘That’s different,’ Sam Pepper squeezed out from his fear constricted throat. And licked beads of sweat off his top lip.
‘Sure it is,’ Edge agreed evenly. ‘It’s just a matter of what a woman is prepared to sell herself for. But there’s a line between women of certain kinds. And it ain’t drawn by a preacher at an altar.’
‘Edge, stop this!’ the hurriedly dressed blonde in the archway pleaded.
‘Pepper called you a whore,’ the half-breed answered as a sound of nails being hammered into timber rang out from the street. ‘Just telling him what side of the line you got laid on!’
‘Oh my God!’ she squealed, her pale face shading to deep red. Then whirled around and hurried across the lobby to jerk open a door and carry her shame and embarrassment outside.
‘Going to put the gun away now, feller,’ Edge said, and matched his action with the words. ‘But if you insult Miss Dickens again that way, it won’t be you who sends for the lawman and the mortician. Right, kid. I’m ready to eat.’
Pepper took out a handkerchief and frantically mopped sweat beads off his face: as his son came tentatively to the table, looking anxiously at him. Then the boy set down the laden plate and coffee cup with an angry heavy-handedness as he raked his eyes from his father, to the deserted archway and at Edge.
‘You got a strange way of goin’ about things, mister,’ he said tautly.
‘How’s that, kid.’
‘If you think so highly of that lady you didn’t oughta talk dirty about her the way you did. In front of her and all.’
‘Forget it, Joel,’ his father advised grimly.
‘I don’t think anything of the lady, kid,’ Edge said. ‘It wasn’t her reputation your Pa was muddying up.’
He began to eat, while the father and son stared at him incredulously. Then acknowledged that they believed him by expressing disgust. This as the hammering sounds from the street were curtailed. Then Sam Pepper pushed back his chair and rose, leaving his breakfast only half eaten.
‘We can rely
on you checkin’ out today, mister?’ he asked coldly.
‘It’s your place, feller. And you’re entitled to make the rules. No sweat.’
‘You have to stay in town for the trial,’ Pepper said with less animosity: seemed surprised at the easiness of the half-breed’s attitude. ‘Don’t reckon Estelle will open the Red Dog after what’s happened. But there’s some families in Irving that take boarders.’
‘Obliged.’
They left him to his breakfast, Joel carrying the dirty dishes into the kitchen and his father stepping through into the lobby and then going out onto the street. Edge ate slowly and when he was finished he rolled and smoked the first cigarette of the day, conscious of the rising heat. And a few moments after he swallowed the last of his coffee he smelled the smoke of strong tobacco which was carried by the hot air entering the hotel through the open doorway.
He went up to his room and as he collected his gear, heard hoofbeats in the distance: glanced from the window and saw a group of riders far out on the east trail. Approaching town without haste.
Down in the lobby, Sam Pepper was waiting for him in the doorway, smoking a strong-smelling cheroot.
‘Your change, mister,’ he said, thrusting some bills and coins at Edge. ‘And it seems the Red Dog could be openin’ today after all. Under new management.’
The half-breed accepted the money with a nod and pushed it into a pocket of his pants. Then stepped out onto the stoop which at this time in the morning provided no shade from the glaring sun. He glanced to his left and saw the reason for the recent hammering sounds. A length of timber had been nailed to a stoop-support out front of the saloon, its painted lettering still wet and running. It proclaimed simply: “FOR SALE.”
Still holding his saddle and bedroll under one arm, Edge pointed with his free hand to where the approaching riders were visible through the trees on the stream bank. ‘Be Warford’s boss coming to spring him from the gaolhouse, I guess?’
‘Joe Love and some of his hands from the Howlin’ Coyote spread sure enough,’ Pepper answered as he advanced across the threshold. ‘Known all over the state for the way he takes care of his men. Don’t like trouble. Had more than his fair share of that while he was buildin’ up his place.’
EDGE: Town On Trial Page 3
