Disorder in the House [How the West Was Done 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Karen Mercury

  Abruptly she quieted. Raising her brimming eyes from the tongs to Levi, he instantly knew they were both thinking the same thing. Sherman Summit was where the dizzying Dale Creek Bridge had been built. The monumental engineering feat that had so roused everyone on the train that a certain young lady had gone wandering about in a car packed full of thugs. They never would have bumped into each other were it not for Sherman Summit.

  Levi finally dared to smile at her. “Yes,” he said softly. “We know where it is.”

  He was testing her. Testing her to see how she responded. He knew she must loathe him now, realizing that a mere Indian agent had put his hands on her. Had kissed her. Had dared to sink his fingers into that slippery bun and crush his open mouth to hers.

  He was awash with relief when she smiled back and continued, “It indicates the station of Sherman Summit. I hope that tells you something.”

  “Well,” said Levi, glad that when he took the tongs from Liberty, their fingers briefly touched. “These bloodstains indicate that someone was murdered at Sherman Summit. Or by someone working at Sherman Summit last month.”

  “Caeser Moxus,” Garrett breathed.

  At last, Liberty looked at Garrett. “Who’s that?”

  Garrett exhaled mightily. “I guess I didn’t mention that to you. But Shady Barnhart, well, we suspect him also of murdering this Indian chief and forging his name on a treaty.”

  Levi liked the way Liberty turned fiery then. “Son of a gun! That twisted shit!” She fixed Levi with her blazing eyes. “I certainly hope you are a more upstanding agent than that odious bastard, Mr. Colter!”

  Levi tried to look humble. “It would be hard not to be more upstanding.”

  Liberty continued, “What gives you that suspicion? That Shady murdered this Caeser Moxus?”

  Levi sighed. This would be the tricky part. Before Garrett could forge ahead with some balled-up answer that would permanently scare off Miss Hudson, he said, “It was written down anonymously in a letter Garrett received.”

  Liberty looked thoughtful. “This sounds like something Caleb Poindexter could help with.”

  Where had Levi heard that name before? He struggled to think. That was it. Marshal Tempest had mentioned this Caleb fellow as being helpful in Indian matters. “Certainly, if you think this fellow can help. Maybe you could set up a meeting. Don’t tell him about our suspicions first. Who is he?”

  Liberty said, “He’s a seer of sorts, apparently. My sister mentioned him to me. A visionary who assisted her fiancé, Marshal Tempest, in finding a murderer.”

  Levi had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. Not another medicine man. He doubted the veracity of any of that nonsense. All of that chanting, smoke-waving, and piercing oneself through the breast to gaze at the sun—it all gave Levi the creeps. He had just seen too many people die when they thought they were protected by some god. Some of the herbal remedies worked, but he drew the line when it came to taking professional advice from a medicine man.

  So he said politely, “If it’s all the same to you, Miss—”

  “Liberty.”

  “Liberty, I’d rather not take counsel from a medicine man.”

  “Oh, but he’s not an Indian at all! Rather, he dresses like an Indian, but actually he’s quite white, from what I’ve heard.”

  Garrett chimed in. “I know that fellow. I often see him around the fort. Some people believe he’s a great seer. And some people think he’s just a loco blacksmith who powwows with spooks.”

  Levi remembered the fellow he’d seen the day he’d arrived at the fort, hiding his face under an eagle quill headdress. That fellow had seemed oddly important, so he now told Liberty, “All right, if you think he’s legitimate. Send for him.”

  He was blessed again with her smile, and he knew he’d done the right thing. “I’d like to help in any way I can.”

  They stared stupidly at each other for many moments, and then Garrett cleared his throat.

  “I’m going to, ah, you know. For the purpose of nature.” He headed for the front door.

  Liberty called after him, “Garrett! My father had some lumber delivered to the side of the house. Why don’t you check on it and see if it meets your specifications for the furniture?”

  The front door slammed, and Levi was alone with Liberty.

  It was impossible to translate the look she gave him. It was ardent enough, but was it lust or loathing that filled her eyes to the brim? Her heart hammered out a beat in the pit of her throat, giving her a vulnerable look that affected him to the core.

  He asked her softly, “So do you believe in this visionary business?”

  She looked down at her hand, trailing against the flower stems on the table. “Some of it, yes. My sister believes Caleb helped them catch the murderer along with the assistance of some…Well, let’s just say very spiritual things. Helpers, or beings. She says this whole town is surrounded by some spiritual vibrations that are causing all sorts of spectral havoc.”

  Levi tilted his head. He might be able to give her a vague picture of their recent psychography results and make Garrett look like a laughingstock at the same time. Both of these things interested Levi, because he had no idea what had gone on between these two yesterday. “The letter Garrett mentioned? It wasn’t written anonymously. It was written by him, while in a deep trance.”

  Her eyes met his, and a smile slowly grew on her face. “A deep trance? That’s a joke, right?”

  He shook his head. “Not at all. I doubted him at first, too. But most of the information was unknowable by Garrett or highly precognitive.”

  “Why, that’s fantastic! So he’s some kind of seer, too, like Caleb Poindexter!”

  If Levi had been trying to discredit Garrett, he had succeeded in doing the opposite. He rushed to regain the ground lost. “He—or rather his spirit guide, Paddy—wrote that the new Indian agent would arrive on the train with a tattoo on his neck and would be in love with—”

  Liberty caught her breath. She seemed to be fairly standing on her tiptoes with anticipation as she said all in a rush, “Yes, about the train! I know an apology is in order. I was acting on impulse when I met you. I was just so taken by—”

  “You don’t need to apologize, Liberty. It’s all forgotten now.”

  “But I don’t want it to be forgotten, don’t you see?” Desperation filled her eyes, and she took a step closer to him. She raised her hands as though about to grab his shirtfront, the way she’d grabbed the lapels of his greatcoat that day on the train before straddling him and bucking like such a brazen vixen. “Mr. Colter, I’ve been regretting that moment”—Levi’s heart fell—“yet reliving it in happiness ever since”—his heart leaped again—“and now you tell me that it was prophesized? I’m sure you took me for one of the prairie flowers on the train—”

  “No, no, no,” Levi said soothingly, daring to encircle one of her wrists in his palm. “Of course not. You’re far too refined for anyone to make that mistake.” Instinctively, he lifted his other hand and stroked her face with the back of his hand.

  Her eyes entreated him. To do what, he didn’t know. “Refined? Was it refined of me to throw myself on you like some kind of guttersnipe?”

  “No apologies are necessary.”

  “To fling my arms around you and—oh, hell!”

  And she flung her arms around him and kissed him.

  In a flash, they were on top of the table.

  Levi realized later he must have knocked her there. There was such a sudden groping of limbs, the feel of her satiny locks against his face, her oomph when she hit the table, it was really hard to recall later who had done what to whom.

  But it didn’t matter, because at last Levi had the bounteous Egyptian stunner beneath him. This was what he had craved for so many days, and in a sudden rush of pure lascivious hunger he bent over her. Propped up by one hand only, he swept away the candlesticks, plates, forks, whatever other homey things she had placed there, and smashed his eager
mouth to hers.

  The sweet essence of the lupine flowers as they ground beneath her ass rose into his nostrils as she parted her thighs, showing she accepted him. One of her hands grappled with her skirts to free her legs of them, the other arm flung carelessly on the table above her head. When she succeeded in yanking her petticoat and skirt over her knee, she slung her legs about his, locking her ankles behind his thighs. She urged his pelvis into her very core, as though she intended to fuck him through all the layers of clothing.

  Her fingers frantically scrabbled at his necktie knot, and she whipped it away with a whoosh of silk. Not a blade of grass stirred outside, not the faintest scratching of a mouse inside, the room filled with their animal panting and gasping. Levi held himself off her so as not to crush her, but when she slapped her hand to his ass to urge him into her, he near about lost it.

  He remembered the wet spot on his pants after the train ride, the pungent fishy scent her pussy had left against his bulging erection, how he had nearly shot in his pants just from the simple act of a strange woman straddling him. Now he rotated his hips against her, wondering if she could feel the length of his stiff prick against the heat of her pussy. When again the fishy yet flowery aroma of her sex penetrated his nostrils, he wasn’t sure if the slime he felt against his cockhead was hers or his, the drops of seed that seeped out when one was aroused beyond belief.

  “Oh!” She cried out and raised her head to suck on his tattoo—of all things! She munched on his throat like a lioness at a kill, squeezing the globe of his ass, urging him into her. He fell to nipping the outer shell of her ear as he sloppily humped her. She didn’t—couldn’t—mean for him to fuck her on this very table, right here, right now?

  Now her tongue was snaking its frantic way down his collarbone to his pectoral, and she didn’t bother unbuttoning his shirt—just tore it so a couple of buttons pinged on the floor. Levi humped her athletically up the table, cradling her skull in his palm, her sweet little hellcat’s teeth now clamped down around his nipple, and that was when he really lost it.

  Shuddering, choking, holding his breath—dear God, he hadn’t shot inside his pants since he was a raw youth. But Liberty chewed away at his nipple as though she knew why convulsions wracked his body and was evilly intent on continuing it.

  “You,” Levi choked against her shell-like ear, “vixen.”

  And he was fairly certain she chuckled naughtily then.

  Dear God, no matter what this felt like later on, trying to walk around after spurting inside his own pants, it was worth every second of it right now. “You hellcat,” he gasped.

  She was plying one last tickling lick to his nipple when a loud, boorish voice sounded outside the window. It wasn’t Garrett, who after all had probably finished inspecting the lumber and pissing a long time ago.

  “Hey, Private O’Rourke,” the boor shouted.

  Levi and Liberty stilled, tilting their heads to listen.

  “Is Liberty Hudson here? There’s been a major donnybrook down at the Cactus Club.”

  Levi touched his nose to Liberty’s, and they both giggled guiltily. He eased off her, standing upright and pulling her up by the hand. He was glad of this lunkhead’s intrusion, because he had much more fuss to endure to make himself presentable. Liberty only had to smooth down her skirts, tidy her hair, and remove the lupine blossoms from where they were stuck to her ass.

  Levi couldn’t resist one last bite to the side of Liberty’s neck. “I’m not finished with you,” he whispered, causing her to break into a fresh round of giggles.

  “Meet me at Vancouver House at eight o’clock. I have an idea.” She shoved him away toward the next room and called out, “I’m in here, Zeke!”

  Levi practically stumbled over his own erection, which had only gone down to half-mast. He felt roostered, light-headed, with a happiness he hadn’t felt in years—if ever—saturating his spirit. He navigated into the next room and leaned against the wall. He removed a handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket as the lunkhead clomped into the house.

  “Oh, hey, Liberty. Yeah, there’s been a regular husking frolic at the Cactus Club. Harley needs you to come right away to help clean up. Seems that Earl Riser shoved Jack Hammer into the chile pot while it was on the fire. Well, Jack’s coat caught fire, so he ran into the back room to find some water. Only, Rusty Pipes handed him a jug of kerosene instead…”

  Chapter Seven

  “This is what I wanted you to see.”

  Liberty held her breath as she gestured at the item sitting on her father’s desk. Levi Colter looked sideways at Garrett, questioning. Garrett looked back to his partner, also questioning.

  Finally, Levi asked, “A basket?”

  She knew that would be their response. Of course they’d be puzzled she’d asked them to Vancouver House just to show them an upside-down oval basket with a sharpened stick passed through one end.

  So she explained. “You see, my father was very interested in Spiritualism. I remembered this Oriental item that he always had, and I vaguely recalled it was named fuji in China and had something to do with spirit writing.” She moved to the bookshelf for the crowning glory of the demonstration. “I found that little planchette which was used to spell out words from beyond the grave. That stick would point to a letter. But I couldn’t recall the other part of the equipment.”

  “You told her,” Garrett muttered to Levi.

  Reaching up, she withdrew a wooden board from the middle of a row of books. “So I looked around and found this.” She carried the board to the desk and placed it next to the lamp and planchette. Proudly and reverently, Liberty said, “A talking board.”

  The wooden board was crude, to be sure. A very faded alphabet had been scrawled across its polished surface. “Yes” and “No” were also written in opposite corners, “Good-bye” across the bottom, and the phrase “Carpe Diem” was engraved in the middle.

  “I’ve heard of talking boards,” said Levi. “But I’ve never seen one. Do you know how it works?”

  “Well, that’s the part I can’t recall. My father has gone ahead to the next Hell on Wheels town for business, so I couldn’t ask him. I looked around in his bookshelf but couldn’t find any text that would explain.” She looked up at Garrett’s skeptical face. “I thought this might be a method where you could use your talents, but with the additional participation of the two of us, the spiritual force might be stronger.”

  Garrett tossed Levi a look that could melt ice. Levi held the talking board to examine it, and he gave Garrett an innocent look. “What?”

  Garrett said, “What did you tell her, you double-dealing traitor?”

  “Only that it was you who wrote the letter giving the information about Shady and Caeser Moxus.” Levi shrugged. “And that you’d done it while in a trance.”

  Garrett wiped his face with his hand in disgust and embarrassment, but Liberty wanted to know more about that prophetic letter. Levi had mentioned that it also foretold his own arrival in Laramie, that this new tattooed Indian agent would fall in love with—well, someone. She had cut Levi off before he could finish the sentence, and she now regretted it intensely.

  Their activity that had followed, though, Liberty embraced with her entire heart. For many nights she had dreamed that Levi Colter—now she knew his name! And he seemed to be attracted to her!—would do just that. Toss her down upon a table and ravish her with his sly, talented mouth. And she’d been right. He had the body of a man accustomed to working with his hands in the frontier, not one of those cushiony “captains of industry” with stomachs the consistency of a soufflé.

  When his athletic body had crushed her to the table, she had run her hands down his back to fondle his rear. She knew it was sluttish to spread her thighs like that, but really, being in the Far West had a way of making one feel that time was of the essence. Things were so fleeting and temporary here. People came and went. It was only a matter of time before either Levi or Garrett—or both together, from the sound
of it—would be gone. So she had spread her thighs and wrapped them around his sinewy hips so she could massage the wonderfully muscular globes of his ass.

  Her pussy was so soaked and clenching she could hear the clammy squishing when he rubbed his long, fat erection against her. His clothed prick had found the slit in her drawers, and she nearly thought she’d reach that mythical hysterical paroxysm just from the friction. She could tell that he held back out of gentlemanly decorum. He refrained from unsheathing his penis and penetrating her, probably out of fear of being discovered by Garrett.

  But she would have welcomed that. God, she would have welcomed being penetrated by that man. She knew Levi Colter was her destiny. She was fully, irrevocably in love with him. Liberty was no virgin and had coupled with much lesser men she wasn’t in love with. It was fun to flirt, to tease the poor man to the point of spending in his pants. It made her feel feminine and powerful and had released an absolute gusher of her pussy juices, to feel his fat cock quiver and jump in the throes of orgasm as it smashed against her pussy lips. But if he would be gone tomorrow—then carpe diem!

  Liberty put her hand soothingly on Garrett’s arm. “It’s all right, Garrett. I believe that you truly are channeling this Irish fellow Paddy. Carpe diem, see? ‘Pluck the day, trusting as little as possible in the future.’”

  Garrett stuck out his lower lip. “If that board says not to trust the future, how are we supposed to believe what it tells us? If we can even figure out how to use it.”

  Levi said cheerfully, “I believe it’s fairly self-evident.” He placed the planchette on the board. “This stick must be a pointer that would spell out the letters of the words.”

  “Yes,” said Garrett. “But how do we operate it? With our minds?” Throwing up his hands, he wandered to the other side of Simon’s study. “This is absurd. I’ll stick to doing it the way I have been. Alone.”