Fort Revenge

by J. R. Roberts

  “None of the other deputies?”

  “One-Eye, maybe, but he ain’t around,” Heck said, referring to a deputy who wore an eye patch.

  “Who you lookin’ for?”

  “You heard of the Colter brothers?”

  Clint frowned, and then his face brightened.

  “Yeah, I do,” he said. “Three of ’em?”

  “Four,” Heck said. “Gabe, Brett, and Joe added their younger brother, Gene.”

  “Gene?”

  Heck nodded.

  “Not twenty yet, and mean as a snake.”

  “Just the four of them?”

  Heck shook his head.

  “They got some men with ’em, not sure how many, or who they are.”

  “And you been out there alone?”

  “What else am I gonna do?” Heck asked. “You weren’t here yet.”

  “Well, I’m here now.”

  “The old man’s gonna want you to wear a badge,” heck said.

  “Won’t be the first time I turn him down,” Clint said. “Maybe I can get away without seeing him.”

  “If he knows you’re here, I doubt it.”

  “Any chance Butler didn’t tell him?”

  “Not a one.”

  “Didn’t think so,” Clint said, “but Butler doesn’t approve of me. Doesn’t think I should have a badge. Maybe he can influence the judge.”

  “Nobody influences the judge but the judge.”

  “Yeah, I knew that.”

  “My horse needs to rest, or I’d say let’s get out of town now, before he can send for you.”

  “Of course,” Clint said, “if he sends for me, I don’t have to go.”

  They both thought about that in silence, and knew that wouldn’t happen. If Judge Parker sent for him, Clint would go. The two men didn’t like one another, but they had a healthy respect for each other. Neither would treat the other with anything less.

  “What else is going on in town?” Clint asked.

  “Nothin’,” Heck said. “Ain’t been a hangin’ in a week. The judge is impatient for me to bring in the Colters.”

  “Are they going to hang?” Clint asked.

  “Without a doubt,” Heck said. “I think each brother’s got a couple of murders under his belt.”

  “Even the young one?”

  “He may be the worst of all,” Heck said.

  “That’s saying a lot.”

  “The Colters are bad,” Heck said. “They was born bad, and they just got worse.”

  “So when do you want to go out again?”

  “Tomorrow,” Heck said, “but you’ll have to see the judge first. He ain’t gonna have it any other way—and if you go and see him, maybe you’ll have a small advantage over him.”

  Clint sipped his beer and then said, “Yeah, very small.”

  NINE

  Clint and Heck spent enough time in the little saloon for it to start to fill up as it got on toward evening.

  “I guess I better check in with the judge, myself,” Heck said.

  “I got an idea,” Clint said as his friend started to get up.

  “What’s that?”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “That’d throw Butler and the judge,” Heck said with a smile. “I like it.”

  Clint finished his beer and stood.

  “We both smell like beer,” he said.

  Heck grinned, and they left the saloon.

  The guard at the barracks waved them in, and they got to see Butler first.

  “I see you’re back, Deputy,” he said. “And that Mr. Adams has found you.”

  “Not much gets by you, huh, Butler?” Heck asked.

  “I assume you want to see the judge?” Butler asked.

  “Like I said,” Heck replied, “nothin’ gets by you.”

  “Wait here, please.”

  Butler left the room.

  “That little snot is makin’ us wait, even though I’m sure the judge told him to bring us in—whichever one of us showed up.”

  “Maybe he won’t see me,” Clint said, hopefully. “He’ll just see you.”

  “Funny,” Heck said, “I was thinkin’ the other way. He’s gonna offer you a badge.”

  “Again,” Clint added, “and again, I’ll refuse.”

  “Up to you,” Heck said. “I learned a long time ago not to try to talk you into wearin’ a badge.”

  Clint had spent a lot of his early years wearing a badge, but it was wearing one in Deadwood that really put him off. After Hickok’s death, he just never wanted to wear one again.

  The door opened and Butler came back in.

  “All right,” he said. He sounded weary, as if he had tired himself out talking to the judge, trying to get him to turn them away. “Come along.”

  Butler showed Heck and Clint into the judge’s office. The jurist was reading something on his desktop and held up his hand for them to wait. When he finished reading, he lowered his hand and removed his glasses. He looked up at the men.

  “All right, Butler,” he said. “I am glad to see you have Mr. Adams with you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The judge nodded at Clint in what could be interpreted as a welcoming gesture.

  “Mr. Adams.”

  “Judge.”

  “Welcome to my court. It’s been a while.”

  Clint almost said, “Not long enough,” but opted for silence with a nod.

  “Deputy,” Parker said, “do you have a report for me on the Colter brothers?”

  “My tip was bad, Judge,” Heck said. “There was no sign of them out there.”

  “Hmm, too bad. Then again, it may be lucky for you that you didn’t find them alone, eh?”

  “Maybe, Judge.”

  “Hmm,” Parker intoned again. He turned his attention to Clint.

  “Mr. Adams, I still have a badge in my desk for you, when you want it.”

  “I appreciate that, Judge,” Clint said, “But I think you know how I feel about that.”

  “Indeed,” the judge said. He sat back and laced his fingers in front of him. “Then to what do we in Fort Smith owe the pleasure of your company?”

  “I’m actually here to see my friend Deputy Thomas, Judge,” Clint said.

  “And you’re not here to help him track down the Colter brothers?”

  “Today’s the first time I’ve heard that he’s tracking those boys,” Clint said, truthful as far as it went.

  “But now that you’re here?”

  “Well, if he’s got no one to watch his back I guess I’d have to take a hand.”

  “I see.” Parker looked at Heck. “And do you have anyone to watch your back? Any of the other deputies?”

  “None that I’d trust as far as I could throw ’em, Judge.”

  “I see. Well, then I assume you’ll be going out after them, again?”

  “Tomorrow, Judge,” Heck said. “Just gonna let my horse rest tonight.”

  Parker looked at Clint.

  “And, of course, you realize you have no official standing in the Territories?”

  “I understand that, Judge.”

  “All right, then.” He sat forward, picked up his glasses and put them on. Without looking at them he said, “Report back to me, Deputy, as soon as you return.”

  “Yes, sir,” Heck said, “I will.”

  Out on the street Heck said, “I thought he’d push you harder about the badge.”

  “Yeah, so did I.”

  “I gotta get some rest,” Heck said. “I ain’t as young as I used to be. I can meet you at the livery in the mornin’. Or for breakfast.”

  “Breakfast, in my hotel,” Clint said. “Be easier that way.”

  “Okay.”

  “What about supplies?” Clint asked.

  “I’ll take care of it,” Heck said. “Just enough for us to carry.”

  “Suits me,” Clint said.

  “Be good to ride with you again, Clint.”

  “Yeah,” Clint said. “See y
ou in the morning, Heck.”

  Heck started to walk away, then turned, kept walking backward, and called out, “Don’t get yourself in trouble tonight.”

  TEN

  Jack Harvey froze when Clint Adams walked into Billy’s Saloon.

  He’d picked Billy’s because it wasn’t on any of Fort Smith’s main thoroughfares, it didn’t boast much more than beer and whiskey, and there was only one girl working the floor. He’d assumed Clint Adams would go to a saloon with more to offer.

  He watched as Clint walked to the bar and ordered a beer. He hadn’t yet taken a good look at the room.

  He had to get out.

  He looked around for a back door, spotted one. Now all he had to do was get to it before Clint Adams turned around.

  He waved to the passing saloon girl, who stopped and asked, “What can I do for you, sweetie?”

  “There’s a friend of mine at the bar,” Harvey said. “I’d like you to occupy his time for me.”

  “How long?” she asked.

  He gave her five dollars and said, “All I need is five minutes.”

  “Okay, honey,” she said, taking the bill. “It’s your money.”

  “Hey, sweetie.” The girl came up on Clint’s left. He turned and looked down at her; she was short, darkhaired, and full-breasted. “What’s your name?”

  “Clint, what’s yours?”

  “Trudy. You wanna buy me a drink?”

  “Why not?” Clint said. “But won’t the others miss you?”

  “They’ve got their drinks.”

  “What about him?”

  She looked nervous. “What about who?”

  “The man who paid you to talk to me,” he said. “The one going out the back door.”

  “You . . . you know about him?”

  “Saw him as soon as I came in.”

  “H-he didn’t think you did.”

  “Obviously.”

  She didn’t know what to do.

  “Come on,” Clint said. “Let’s have that drink and let him get out.”

  He signaled to the bartender to bring the girl a drink.

  Jack Harvey watched as the girl sidled up alongside Clint Adams, distracted him with her pretty face, her big breasts. He got out the back door, made his way to the main street.

  He needed to find himself another place to drink.

  Trudy had a whiskey with Clint.

  “Why did he want to get out without you seein’ him?” she asked.

  “He doesn’t want me to know he’s in town.”

  “Is he afraid of you?”

  “Not exactly,” Clint said.

  “Then what?”

  “Actually, I don’t know what he has in mind,” Clint said. “I saved his life some time ago. Maybe he just wants to repay the favor.”

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Clint Adams.”

  Her eyes went wide.

  “Would you like another drink?”

  She nodded.

  ELEVEN

  Clint waited for Trudy to be finished for the night, and then took her to his hotel room. There was no exchange of money.

  As they entered his room, she removed the shawl she had put on over her dress. Her creamy breasts were spilling out of the top of her dress. She never expected to ever be in a room with the Gunsmith. Her breathing came quickly, swelling her breasts even more.

  He took off his gun, hung the belt on the bedpost, then turned to face her. She licked her lips as his hands reached for her. He touched the smooth slopes of her breasts, hooked his fingers into the top of the dress, and pulled it down. Her breasts spilled out, her dark brown nipples already hard. He cupped her breasts in his hands, thumbed the nipples so that she bit her lip. Then he lifted her breasts in his hands and bent to them. He kissed the smooth, pale skin, tongued the nipples so they swelled even more. Then he sucked and bit them so that she moaned, rose up on her toes.

  “Let’s get this off you,” he said, yanking at her dress.

  With her help, he peeled off the rest of her clothes until she stood there naked. Because she was short, she looked as if she was all breasts and hips and butt. In other words, built for bed.

  He lifted her in his arms and carried her to it.

  Harvey found a saloon in an isolated part of town. Dirty bar top, dirty tables, dirty glasses. He ordered a bottle of whiskey, used the first of it to wash out the glass, then drank the second.

  He carried the bottle to a table. There were only two other men in the place, not including the bartender. They took a look at him when he first entered, but neither man said a word. They just went back to their own drinking.

  Harvey did the same.

  Clint removed his own clothes, got into bed with Trudy, gathered her delectably padded body into his arms, and kissed her. She melted into his kiss, her tongue rushing into his mouth. His hands moved over her, rubbing, kneading, squeezing. He slid one hand between her legs, found her wet and ready. He let one finger slide over her wet slit, felt her jerk as if struck by lightning.

  He rolled her into her back, kissed her breasts again, enjoyed the way her nipples felt in his mouth. She was young, and her breasts were firm in his hands. They were wondrous things now. Maybe they’d start to sag a bit when she was thirty or forty, but right now they were wonderful.

  He pressed his face between them, kissed and licked her, worked his way down her body, over her soft belly, into the forest of hair that sprouted between her legs. She had a dark pubic bush, the kind he liked. He pressed his face to it, inhaled the sweet, sharp smell of her. Then he flicked out his tongue and tasted her, and she jumped again and moaned.

  “Oh,” she said, reaching for his head, “oh my,” as his tongue moved over her. “Oh, Jesus.”

  He slid his hands beneath her to cup her big buttocks, lift her off the bed so his avid mouth had better access to her.

  “God,” she said, holding his head tight, “Jesus, what are you—Ohh.”

  She thought she was going to faint . . .

  No man had ever done this to her before. Always, when she was with a man, they stuck it in her, moved around, did their business and got out. That was why she didn’t sleep with many men, not anymore. It was too disappointing.

  This man was different. She knew that as soon as she met him, as soon as she heard who he was.

  And now, the things he was doing to her . . . his hands . . . his mouth . . . oh God, his tongue . . . that tongue . . .

  Clint could feel her trembling. It came up from her legs, into her belly, took hold of her as he continued to suck on her, work on her until she was thrashing around on the bed uncontrollably. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She was unable to make a sound, the cords in her neck standing out and then suddenly it came. But rather than a scream it was a long, guttural growl. She grinded her crotch into his face as she rode out the waves of pleasure, and then he mounted and he drove himself into her . . .

  TWELVE

  “Oh my God,” she said, moments later. She stretched her body out to its full five foot two, pointing her toes and reached up over her head. He saw the little tufts of dark hair in her armpits, swirled with perspiration. Sweat also glistened in her pubic hair, combined with her own natural juices.

  “I can honestly say no man’s ever done that to me before,” she said.

  “Done what?”

  “That,” she said. “All of that—oh, except for the fucking. Men have done that to me, but usually they get right to it, then roll over and go to sleep, or simply leave.”

  “Why would a man want to leave you,” he asked, “or go to sleep when you’re around?”

  She rolled onto her side, her big breasts drooping a bit, and said, “Aren’t you tired at all? After all of that?”

  “Tired, yes,” he said, reaching out to cup one big breast in his hand. “Sleepy, no.”

  “Oh,” she said as his thumb played with her big brown nipples.

  He gathered her in again for a long kiss, and their
legs intertwined. Before long he was poking at her moist portal, and then once again was inside of her. She was slick and steaming hot, moaned as he moved in and out of her.

  Abruptly, she pushed his shoulders down so he was on his back, then sat up on him and began to ride him. She put her hands behind her head, giving him another look at her armpits, which he found oddly exciting. He put his hands over them so that the hair tickled his palms, then moved his hands down to grasp her breasts. He pressed them together, squeezed them, pulled her down so he could suck on her nipples.

  He let her ride him that way until her body was once again wracked by waves of pleasure, and then he exploded inside of her. They bucked so hard at each other that the bed bounced up and down on the floor. But soon they were both done, played out, and she collapsed on top of him. Gradually, she rolled off to one side and, with her head on his shoulder, they both fell asleep . . .

  He woke with his dick in her mouth.

  He was fully hard and she was sucking him avidly, sliding the entire length of his penis in and out of her mouth wetly.

  “You do that . . . very well,” he said.

  She released him, continued to stroke him with one hand as she looked up at him.

  “I told you men used me for pleasure and then left,” she said. “I never said I couldn’t give pleasure to a man if he stayed with me long enough.”

  She slid him back into her mouth, continued to suck him and stroke him, also fondling his balls with her other hand, until he lifted his hips off the bed and, with a loud bellow of pleasure, erupted into her mouth . . .

  They both woke with the sun streaming through the window.

  “Mmm,” she said, “what a night.”

  “Did you sleep well?” he asked.

  “I did,” she said, “when you let me sleep.”

  “Me?” he said. “You’re the one who kept waking me up for more.”

  “I didn’t see you fightin’ me,” she told him.