by Jake Logan
“About the prettiest sight I ever saw on the prairie,” Slocum said. He came in and looked around the single-room sod hut. His guess had been right. Whoever had lived here had moved on a spell back. All the cooking gear was gone, including the iron stove, which explained why there wasn’t any smoke coming out the chimney. If Abigail had started a fire, it would have filled the room with smoke in nothing flat.
“I’m not staying too long,” Abigail said. “Only until the rain’s over.”
“Why are you out here? Not to get a bath,” Slocum said.
“A bath,” Abigail mused. “What a wonderful idea. I find the interior of this sod house so depressingly filthy.” She looked up as water dripped down through the dried roof. It would stop in a little while when the dirt turned to mud and sealed the crevices between hunks of sod.
“What do you mean?” Slocum unslung his gun belt and tossed his hat aside, ready to continue stripping down. The bed didn’t look too inviting but Abigail had brought in her saddle and blanket. That might be good enough for what he had in mind.
But it wasn’t what the seductive blond filly wanted.
She skinned out of her riding skirts and kicked them aside, then picked them up and carefully dangled them from a peg to keep them from getting any dirtier on the floor. Abigail wore only bloomers. She looked back over her shoulder coyly, an impish grin on her face.
“Whatever are you staring at, John?” she asked, bending forward.
“Looks like the moon’s about ready to come out,” Slocum said, going to her and tugging down the frilly bloomers to expose the half moons of her rump. He ran his hands over the sleek, taut skin and felt the way Abigail trembled now.
But when he undid his shirt and started unbuttoning his jeans, she moved away from him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Abigail said. “Get out of those clothes. And come outside.”
“It’s raining,” he protested.
“We both need a bath. How better to take one than with each other?”
She wiggled free of her bloomers and stood completely naked beside the door. Abigail trembled a little as the rain came through the door and hit her bare flesh.
“It feels good. It’s still warm. If it turns cold, we can come back inside.”
“I want to be inside,” Slocum said, shucking off his boots and getting out of his jeans.
“My, my, you’re ready for anything, aren’t you?” she said, staring at his groin. Then Abigail agilely twisted past the broken door and went outside into the rain. Slocum followed. She was right about the rain being warm, but the constant spattering against him distracted him from the ivory nymph running around outside the house, arms high over her head, laughing and twirling around and. around so the rain found every part of her body.
Slocum made his way through the mud to her. Abigail’s bare skin gleamed with clean water. He watched the rivulets form and run down her face, off her long blond hair, down between her huge breasts—and then sneak over her belly on their way still lower. Slocum stepped closer. This time Abigail didn’t try to escape from him.
Their lips met and crushed together in a passionate kiss. Arms circling one another’s body, they rubbed wetly against each other. Slocum felt the sleek, slick movement of her nipples across his bare chest and the way her inner thigh slid along his as she moved even closer. His manhood pressed hard against her crotch, but he did not enter her.
He was too tall for easy entry, but at the moment he hardly noticed. His hands ran over her wet body, seeking to stimulate every inch of flesh he could. When he came to her rounded behind, he cupped those fleshy mounds and then squeezed down hard.
Abigail let out a tiny sob of pleasure and seemed to melt. The rain fell harder on them, dousing them both. Slocum enjoyed the stimulation of the rain on his back and hair, but the feel of the woman’s body thrilled him more. He grew as hard as steel and needed more of her than he was getting.
“Yes, John, I know. I’m ready. I’m as wet inside as I am out!”
He cupped her buttocks and lifted powerfully. Abigail threw her other leg around his waist and locked her heels behind his back. Her arms circled his neck as she kissed and licked and nipped at his lips and ears. Slocum was more intent on positioning her hips than he was on relishing the feel of her taut nips against him or the way she used her mouth so erotically.
He bounced her up and down a few times. Without even realizing he had done so, he positioned her exactly. As Abigail’s body lowered, he felt the tangled matt of fleecy blond fur between her legs tickle his shaft. Then he plunged deep within her, surging far into her most intimate nook. The shock of entry caused them both to gasp and simply stand motionless, intense emotions robbing them of volition.
In the rain, water running down their naked bodies, they stood for an eternity reveling in the sensations of heat and moistness and sexual tension. The pressure around Slocum’s fleshy pillar grew as Abigail clamped down with her strong inner muscles. Then she began twisting from side to side.
“Now, John. I’m ready. Do it now.”
Slocum lifted her until only the thick purpled knob on his shaft remained within her, then he relaxed and left gravity pull her down. The slow withdrawal and the sudden insertion built carnal heat to the point where Slocum thought he was going to explode.
He refused to give in so easily and wanted the most pleasure possible from their lovemaking. He stroked over her back, kissed her mouth and eyes and forehead and then got a better grip on her buttocks. With the rain pummeling them both now, he bent his knees and straightened them. The combination of the rain trickling sensuously down their bodies, the feel of Slocum’s massive shaft within and the way he held her so close caused Abigail to gasp in ecstasy.
“Oh, John, yes, I—aieee!” She threw her head back, face to the plummeting warm rain, and let her hair dangle down behind her. This slammed her groin down harder into his so he sank even deeper into her heated tunnel. The twitches and twists of her hips as she writhed about impaled on his fleshy spike ignited the potent forces of passion within her young body.
Abigail cried out in wild abandon, turned into a fierce, struggling animal that knew only physical delight. As her climax cascaded through her body, she clenched even harder around his hidden steely length. Slocum tried to pull out for one more fast, hard trip in but couldn’t. He felt himself tightening, the floods beginning and then releasing as if a dam had burst. Swinging her around and around, he experienced the same joys she had moments earlier.
Slocum wasn’t certain how long the delightful sensations racked his body, but he eventually released her and Abigail slid her feet to the ground. They stood ankle-deep in mud but neither noticed that or the heavy rain that now pounded them relentlessly. They kissed and caressed and explored each other’s bare body until they were ready to go into the sod house and continue in a more traditional fashion.
The rain kept up its steady downpour all night. Slocum and Abigail matched it, their lightning and thunder more exciting.
10
“As nice as it is to find you out here, I’ve got to ask why you’re traveling alone across the prairie,” Slocum said, leaning back on his bedroll spread across the dirt floor of the sod house. Abigail busied herself stretching out her clothing to hang and dry from a bit of rope strung from one side of the room to the other. Every move she made distracted Slocum since she was buck naked, but he tried to keep his mind on why he was here.
Rafe Ferguson wasn’t going to get by with trying to bushwhack him. And if Ferguson hadn’t been the one pulling the trigger, he knew who had. The mayor and Ferguson were in cahoots, and in spite of the way he felt toward Abigail, Slocum had to wonder if she was in the plot with them.
“There’re so many of the farmers to convince, John,” Abigail said, half turning so she was limned by the faint morning light coming through the door. This gave him a delightful view of her bare breasts and the flare of her rump in silhouette. “The director
s won’t need a complete agreement but most of the countryside has to agree or there will be trouble.”
“There’s already trouble brewing,” Slocum said. He turned from her so her nakedness wouldn’t distract him.
“What do you mean?” Abigail came and sat beside him on the floor, her warm leg pressing into his side. There wasn’t any way he could keep from being distracted now.
“The mayor is cooking up a scheme with Rafe Ferguson. Ferguson is a swindler. The two of them together spell big trouble for No Consequence and the train.” He went on to tell her how no one in Omaha had heard of a railroad spur being run in this direction.
“I can’t answer that, John,” she said, looking thoughtful. Then her face brightened. “It might be that Mr. Westfall is keeping it under his hat so other towns won’t compete with us. There are any number that’d steal away such an opportunity. The county seat—Seneca,” she hurried on, warming to her theory. “They would be a ghost town in a year after we get the railroad here. They might think they deserve it because that’s where the sheriff lives.”
“Westfall said something similar, but I don’t buy it,” Slocum said. There wouldn’t have been any reason for the back-shooter to make the attempt on his life if any part of the railroad yarn was true. Westfall and Ferguson wanted to shut him up permanently before he spooked the farmers—and Abigail.
“You can be so ornery, John,” she said with mock severity. “You’ve got to think big. See how this is going to help us all.”
Slocum had heard religious folk and knew arguing with them got nowhere. Abigail had the same conviction. No argument he might give would carry any weight in her need to believe that the railroad was coming through No Consequence.
“I’ve lost any chance at tracking the owlhoot who tried to kill me,” Slocum said. “Reckon I can ride along with you until you get back to town.”
Abigail was quiet for a moment, then bit her lower lip before saying, “John? Will you promise me you won’t try to argue against the railroad? I don’t want you riding with me if I have to debate the point in front of every farmer and rancher I see.”
“I could be wrong,” Slocum admitted, but he had a feeling deep in his gut that he wasn’t.
“Good,” she said, all smiles now. “Let’s get back in the saddle again.”
“All right,” Slocum said, reaching for her. “Then we can get dressed and ride on.” He pulled the willing blonde down and showed her what it felt like to ride a bucking bronco.
“I’m so pleased at your confidence in the project, Mr. Kingman,” Abigail said, positively glowing as she clutched the farmer’s small bag of silver. “You’re guaranteeing the future of not only the town but your own children.”
Behind the sodbuster stood four young boys and two girls almost as tall as their mother. Slocum wondered what the farmer’s wife thought of handing over their life savings to buy a railroad bond. He also wondered what Kingman and his family would do if the bond proved worthless. Life in Nebraska was hardscrabble at the best of times, the short-grass prairie chary in yielding wheat and corn.
“You sure them director fellas are comin’ to town this weekend?” Kingman asked. “I don’t feel good ‘bout any deal less I kin look ’em in the eye.”
“The mayor will introduce them, and they’ll make the announcement that the Platte and Central Plains Railroad is coming to No Consequence.” Abigail beamed. “We’re going to need another vote, one to change the name.”
“How’s that, Miss Stanley?” asked the farmer’s wife.
“No Consequence should be changed to Consequence!”
This produced relieved smiles from the adults. Slocum saw the children weren’t caught up in the discussion of the prosperity to be brought to the small town. They were more interested in getting to their chores so they could run off and throw stones into the stock tank or do whatever they wanted when they weren’t working.
“This Saturday. Noon,” Abigail promised. “Be prepared for one of Mr. Westfall’s long-winded speeches. But this time, it’ll be worth it!”
Abigail and Slocum mounted and rode back in the direction of town. They had visited five farms and Abigail had sweet-talked every last one of the men into buying the railroad bonds. Almost five hundred dollars in silver and scrip rode in her saddlebags, making Slocum glad he had chosen to stick with her. He still had a score to settle, but protecting Abigail and her money was more important.
He had a feeling Ferguson wasn’t going to stray too far.
“How much have you raised for the railroad bonds?” Slocum asked. “All told?”
“Well, I suppose it is all right for me to tell you. We have more than met our subscription total. The extra money will go into an emergency fund, should it be required. Unexpected expenses always crop up.”
“You know about these things?” Slocum asked. “You ever been around a railroad construction crew?”
“Oh, you’re worried about what the roughnecks might do in town.” Abigail breathed a sigh of relief. “We’re expecting this. Mr. Westfall has it well in hand, he says. The saloons might do a land office business, but that’s good for the town. My store is chocked full of supplies the crews will need for the first month or so. Profits ought to soar after a week, when I’ve gotten my expenses back.”
“You’ve got it all worked out,” Slocum said.
“This is a major project, John,” she said earnestly. The blonde pushed back bangs creeping across her forehead and into her eyes. He saw how she was looking at the horizon, but she didn’t see the storm clouds billowing there. All Abigail saw was promise, opportunity, success.
“Did you come up with it or was this the mayor’s brain-child?”
“You do go on, don’t you, John? I can’t really say whose idea it was. Several of us had been discussing the matter for some time. I’m sure Mr. Westfall had a hand in those discussions, but I don’t remember him being the one to suggest it originally.” She frowned and then said, “I’m sure Adam wasn’t the one who thought bringing the railroad to town would be a good idea. It was one of the saloon owners. Maybe it was Paul Gorman.”
“I can see how they would benefit,” Slocum said, lost in thought as they rode toward town. He knew he might be wrong about the enterprise, but he doubted it.
“This works out so well. No Consequence sells the revenue bonds, which are backed by the town’s assets and the income of its citizens. Taxes on everything shipped in help pay for the interest and go to retire the principal. And everyone benefits who ships out grain, cattle or other goods because transportation is cheap and we can finally compete with towns like North Platte.”
“You’ve got it all wrapped up in a pretty bow,” he said.
“You aren’t convinced.” Abigail heaved a deep sigh. From the corner of his eye Slocum watched her breasts rise and fall in exasperation. “Very well. I wasn’t supposed to let anyone know until this weekend but the directors are already in town.”
“What?” This brought Slocum around in the saddle. “Where? In the hotel?”
“Hardly. People would flock to see them. No, they’re camped outside town a few miles.”
“I didn’t see them on the Omaha road when I came in,” he said.
“Oh, they didn’t come directly from there. That would be too obvious. People would wonder why directors of the Platte and Central Plains Railroad were heading toward a town without a spur line. No, they went to North Platte and rode up from there.”
“Clever,” Slocum said, remembering how no one in Omaha admitted to there even being a Platte & Central Plains Railroad.
“You still sound skeptical. We’ll meet them, before they are inundated with questions from everyone else in town. Oh, John, this is so exciting. I feel like I have just discovered a new mountain no one else has ever seen before or an ocean, perhaps. This must be the way Frémont felt on his expeditions!”
Slocum rode in silence as Abigail waxed eloquent about the benefits to the entire region and how they woul
d try to be charitable toward the neighboring town of Seneca, even graciously allowing Seneca to remain the county seat in spite of No Consequence being the important rail center.
“There,” Abigail cried, standing in the stirrups and pointing into the distance. Haze obscured the flat grasslands, but Slocum thought he made out a thin curl of smoke rising from a camp fire. “They’re camped right where they said they would.”
Abigail sounded almost hopeful that this would convince Slocum he was wrong about everything. He had started to answer when he saw dust rising off to his left. Squinting, Slocum shielded his eyes from the hot Nebraska sun and tried to make out who rode about a mile off. A solitary rider.
The back-shooter who had missed him in No Consequence? Slocum couldn’t tell. He considered riding out to see if this might be Rafe Ferguson, then Abigail decided the matter for him.
“Hallo!” the woman cried, waving her arms about like a berserk windmill. “There, John, see? It’s them. The directors, just where they said they’d be. Come on!”
Abigail put her spurs to her horse and shot off like a rocket. Slocum followed at a more leisurely pace, eyes hunting for the rider off in the distance. His roan neighed as they neared the camp with the fire fed by burning buffalo chips, but Slocum held it steady. The rider he had spotted earlier had vanished.
“Here he is,” Abigail gushed. She had already dismounted and stood in front of a well-dressed man who stood with his back to Slocum. She clung to the man’s hand, pumping it up and down like a thirsty woman expecting to get water from a well. “That’s my good friend, John Slocum. John, I want you to meet the chairman of the board of the Platte and Central Plains Railroad, Mr. Lawrence Beal.”
The man turned slowly, Abigail following him around, never letting go of his hand, as if this were a lifeline and if she let go she would drown.
Somehow, Slocum wasn’t surprised to be facing one of the men he had seen Rafe Ferguson gambling with in the saloon back in North Platte.
