Slocum 421

by Jake Logan

  Her arms around his waist, she squeezed him tight from behind, then kissed his ear. “Goddamn you, Slocum. I don’t ever want to lose you.”

  To be perfectly honest, he didn’t want to lose her either. The girl who giggled every time he stuck his dick in her tight cunt. Not once in a while, but every time.

  2

  Before they took a bath, they stopped at a dress shop and she picked out a new dress. A blue one, and the seamstress was about to blush as she pinned the hem up above Murty’s knees and agreed to attach the lace she’d picked out to go on there.

  Standing red-faced with excitement, Murty asked Slocum, “Now, won’t I look spiffy in this new dress?”

  “Spiffy enough for me, Murty.”

  Outside the dressing blind space, she took off her new dress and began to put on her old one. The poor lady who owned the shop hurried to be sure her door was locked and shade drawn, so no one would be exposed to Murty’s uncovered flesh. Slocum tried not to smile as she wiggled into her old dress and shoved it down over her butt.

  “We won’t be back too soon,” she said to the lady; then she took Slocum’s arm and they went to find Loo Ling’s Bath House. They found it, and the bell rang overhead. A short Chinese man bowed. “Chew want bathie?”

  “Yeah, Hop Sing, we both need a bath,” Slocum said to him.

  “No Hop Sink here. Bath for men only.”

  “You don’t understand. We are both going to take a bath. So get the water ready. How much?”

  “Twenty-five cents for you. No let her in.” He waved his hands like Murty was out of the deal.

  “Here’s a dollar for her. Now, get the water hot.”

  “Bath house for men. No women.”

  “Now, goddamn it, I offered you a dollar. Four times the price for a man. I am going to get my gun out and shoot you if you don’t get your ass to heating water. You understand?”

  Loo held up his hands. “No shoot. No shoot. Me get hot water.”

  “Much better,” Slocum said. “Come on, darling. We’re getting baths.”

  She shook her head warily. “Well, God Almighty, what was wrong with that Chinaman anyway?”

  “He didn’t want any women pissy in his bathtubs.”

  “Aw, Slocum, he was plum crazy. What woman is going to piss in her bathwater?”

  “I don’t know, but we are getting two baths.”

  “Oh, I knew you’d work it out, darling.”

  “Bath ready,” Loo said and bowed.

  “Thank you, sir,” Slocum said, and they went into the sour-smelling bathing room. It was dimly lighted, and two copper tubs steamed up ready for them. They undressed, and Slocum helped Murty step into hers.

  “Woo! It sure is hot,” she said, halfway into it and Slocum holding her arm in case she wanted out. “I’ll be fine. But it is hot.”

  With her standing, hugging her melon-size breasts, she soon was laughing. “Maybe he’s trying to cook and eat us.”

  “He might want to eat you, but I’d be gristly enough that he’d throw my meat out to the dogs.”

  His words had her laughing so hard she stopped edging her butt down into the water. “My lands, this is the hottest water I’ve ever been in. But boy, does my back feel better. You need me to scrub your back?”

  “I can do it with this long-handled brush.”

  “Oh, I can do that too. Whew, I may just set here for the rest of the day. It feels wonderful.”

  “I knew you’d like it.”

  “Oh, I am so damn dumb. I never thanked you for that new dress. I about cried when I saw me in it in the mirror—oh, Gods. And I never thanked you.”

  “I am thanked enough to have you.”

  “No, that ain’t any excuse. I been in that stinking buff-hide camp for a couple of months. Them boys’re sweet. They’re good to me. You got me all I need to feed them. And you made me pine every day for nights in your arms. I couldn’t’ve been anywhere else and been any happier.”

  She threw water at him. “Damn, you big lug. I’ve been having fun.”

  “So have I, Murty. Now it’s turned cold out, I can get some wool-lined boots made for you while we’re here.”

  “It would beat freezing my toes off. I’d love some.”

  Slocum came over and poured water on her to rinse her off. She stood on a chair and rinsed him off. Then they dried and re-dressed. Slocum found that the door was locked to get back out. He beat on it.

  Loo opened it and bowed. “You get good bath?”

  “We sure did. Thank you.”

  Three whiskered men in dirt-glazed buckskins were standing waiting to get in—to bathe, Slocum guessed. They were ogling Murty and making out-loud comments.

  “Hey would ya sell her?” The guy hardly out of his teens was fondling his crotch and grinning big, looking at her like she was for sale.

  “Get back, you dumb son of a bitch, or you won’t live to see sundown.”

  “Yeah—”

  His words were cut off by the way Slocum drew his gun in unseen speed and faced them with it cocked.

  “Hey, hey, we don’t mean nothing—” They held their hands out to stop him.

  He gave Murty a head toss for her to go on. Then he edged by the men and went out on the boardwalk. In the sunlight he spun the cylinder so the empty chamber would be under the hammer, then holstered it.

  “Those men back there—”

  “Were animals. This whole trading post is full of men who have forgotten any manners or respect.”

  She made a short nod. “I savvy that.”

  He could tell she was shocked by their actions. “Stay close. Let’s see if the dress is done.”

  She gave him a nod like she was on edge, and they went down the boardwalk to the shop. Inside the dress and hat store, the seamstress held the dress up for Murty’s approval.

  “Oh, it is wonderful. Isn’t it, Slocum?”

  “Very nice. Now, go behind the Chinese folds and dress back there for her.”

  “Oh.” She agreed and went back there to change.

  Slocum chuckled, but the storeowner quietly thanked him. He paid her for the dress while Murty rummaged around behind the screen getting dressed. Singing a bawdy song about some girl looking for a man, she emerged looking bright-eyed.

  “It is the best dress I have ever owned. Thank you so much.”

  He nodded. “I’m ready. You look fine.”

  “Oh, you’d say that if I was in a gunnysack. He’s the best man I ever had,” she said to the seamstress. “And I’d swear to it.”

  They went back to camp. Two men were on guard duty. Murty slipped off the back of the gray horse and waved at the men, then spun around in her new dress. They whistled and cheered.

  “You are mucho bueno,” one of them shouted.

  A second took his horse to be put up.

  “Everyone in town?” he asked.

  “Sí.”

  “I hope they are careful. The town is very dangerous.”

  “Ah, sí patrón. Escatar warned all of us before the others left to keep our heads low. Some of the town men might pick on them for being Mexicans.”

  “If anyone has any trouble, wake me. I will go rescue them if I can.”

  “We appreciate you, señor. Have a good night.”

  “Have you eaten?”

  The man shrugged.

  “She will feed us in a short while.”

  “I will tell Paco.”

  Murty fixed them supper and they thanked her. They said they’d do the dishes, so Slocum and Murty went off for a place to spread out his bedroll. He scraped the ground of brush, twigs, and rocks with the side of his boot sole before he spread it out. He sat down, and she pulled off his boots, teasing him some about the day.

  “Had you not figured out I wanted to shock that st
ore lady a little by dressing outside them folding deals? I just loved to see her squirm a little.” She was chuckling about taking her dress off over her head. “But hey, big man, this is the finest dress I have ever owned.”

  “It shocked her all right.”

  “If she has a husband, I bet it embarrasses her to have sex.” She was giggling again. “Poor thing.”

  They were undressed and under the cover of a light blanket. “We unloading tomorrow?” she asked,

  “I don’t know. I ain’t seen him so far, but he’s around I bet.”

  Her hand was playful rolling around his cock and making it rise. Then between her laughing they were kissing hard. He used two fingers on his left hand to check her lubrication. She usually was slick, but if not, it only took him a short while to get enough of her juices going down there by finger fucking her.

  “Damn, you are a loving machine,” she whispered. “I am so damn spoiled with you. Get on me. I am ready for you to shovel coal into my furnace.”

  “Hell, Murty, you are always ready for loving.” He rose on his knees and laughed, then shifted up between her raised short legs. She spread them wide, and he shoved the nose of his erection inside her, and she oohed out loud.

  “Damn, you’re like Old Faithful at Yellowstone, spouting off about every half hour.”

  The next twenty minutes they were lost in each other’s rapid response. Swirling around like some great whirlpool, they left the real world for one of passion and hellfire even the Yellowstone geyser could not match. The thin skin on the head of his dick felt stretched at last to the final place. Then two red hot needles struck him in the cheeks of his ass and he came hard. She screamed and then fainted.

  Making him stay on top of her, she used her fingers to part the hair on her face. “Oh, damn, that was gut-wrenching chilling. You know I could do that all day with you.”

  He kissed her wet mouth and took all her breath away, which wasn’t hard. His rock-hard, corded belly to her solidly muscled one, they savored their closeness, and he kind of rocked his dick a little in and out of her.

  “We better sleep some,” she said. “That unloading will be hard work tomorrow. But if you get horny in the night, you wake me up.”

  “I will.” He rose off of her and she dried him off with a towel.

  “I bet I smelled better, anyhow?”

  “You always smell like a woman. That excites me.”

  “I’m like a doe deer that’s always in heat. That’s my problem.”

  She rolled over with the towel between her legs to staunch the leaking. Her good-size butt against him, he threw his arm over her and squeezed her tit.

  “Oh, that felt wonderful.” And she giggled then shuddered in pleasure under his arm.

  They slept till before dawn. She had a wonderful alarm clock in her head and always had breakfast ready before the sun came up. She was too damn neat and sexy for him to lose, as long as no bounty hunter showed up looking for him. Probably more wanted fugitives hiding out there in the buffalo-hunting business than anywhere else in the country. All of them tough enough that only a damn fool or a grizzly bear would mess with them.

  He’d needed to find his man Stowe or his underling and get the hides checked in. When all the skins were off his hands, he’d feel better. At almost five dollars a hide there was real money in the business, and as with gold dollars, the temptation to steal always existed and crime was worse here than it would be in some small farm town in the Midwest.

  He was eating her thick oatmeal recipe and sipping strong coffee. Several hungover helpers, moaning and grumbling, came to join them, plus the two guards.

  She acted like cheerful Murty, saying, “Oh, you poor babies. Did you drink too much keg-head whiskey last night?”

  “Oh, sí. Way too much.”

  “Were them Indian whores pretty last night too?”

  “No, not near as pretty as you are.”

  Then she giggled and spoke to him. “See how lucky you are?”

  “I wouldn’t stick my dick in any of them even drunk.” Slocum shook his head and handed her the bowl for some more.

  When she bent over to fill his bowl, the lace of her new dress didn’t hardly cover but a small portion of her freckled ass. Nice view from his seat, but she did that for him to see it; otherwise she’d have squatted down.

  Everyone fed and given coffee, she sat on the bench beside him, gripped the edge of it with her fingers beside her legs, and rocked on her ass. The sun was beginning to pink the eastern sky. Ravens were gathering to look for scraps, and as the cooler night wind lay down, the hides began filling the air with the rancid smell of green skins. Later in the day, the sun-powered wind would recover and threaten to blow away every flag and hat across Kansas.

  Slocum went to look for Stowe. He finally found him playing cards in the Oxbow Saloon. A big man smoking a large cigar that he kept clamped in his teeth. He wore a trail-dusted suit coat and even a string tie. The white shirt was food-stained, and all of it must have been tailor-made, because they didn’t make store-bought that large.

  “Ah, Slocum. I heard you was coming in. How many hides?”

  “Seven hundred.”

  “Holy shit. You’ve been killing the fire out of them.” He looked over his hand and spoke to the dealer. “Give me two cards.” Then he tossed his two discards onto the table.

  The man under the visor dealt him two more.

  “Goddamn, that was all right. Two aces the same suit.”

  His fellow players jerked awake around the table. “What was that?”

  “Just kidding. Hell, you can’t take a joke?”

  “Not when you’ve been beating the hell out of us.”

  “I finish this hand, Slocum’ll set in for me. I’ve got to go empty my bowels.”

  “I may lose your money.”

  “Naw, it’s a lucky seat, been in it a long time.”

  “You still got Murty?” one guy asked him.

  “Still got her. No one else wants her.”

  “He’s lying. He has the sweetest freckle-assed woman on the prairie.”

  “I seen her on the Platte,” a gray-headed old fart said, betting two dollars. “She’s head and shoulders over any woman around here. Except that niece of Colonel Bradford’s up at Camp Supply. Wow, she’s a real looker.”

  Slocum took Stowe’s seat. “She’s dead. We found her and two men scalped, mutilated, and staked out on the prairie seven days northwest of here.”

  “Ah, the hell you say. Any idea who did it?”

  Slocum shook his head and looked at his new cards. He had two fours and an ace to keep. The raise was two bucks. He tossed his in and took two cards. Things went well, and he drew another four and an ace for a full house. The next raise was three dollars; he raised it to five, and a bearded teamster raised it five more. There were two players left to decide. One of them raised it five more, and the other tossed his cards in. Someone called. “I got three queens.”

  The next man said he had three jacks and shook his head, tossing in his cards

  The three-queen player was grinning like a possum eating shit when he looked over at Slocum. “What have you got?”

  “A full house fours and aces.”

  The expectant winner slumped in his chair. “I’ll be a sumbitch. I had the best hand of the night and you beat me. Go tell Stowe to get off the pot. You’re luckier than he is.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “Say, Slocum, you figure out who killed her?” an older man asked.

  “No. They were stripped naked and not one small item was around them. Besides her, one of the men about thirty had prisoner-of-war numbers tattooed on his right arm.”

  “Giles Gifford.”

  “You knew him?”

  “Hell, yes. He was a captain in the Mississippi Cavalry.”

 
“Well him and a dark-haired man was the other one. I figured they’d all been with Bradford and she ran off with them.”

  “Or they kidnapped and took her.”

  “I don’t know,” Slocum said. “Bradford took her body back to bury her at his Camp something.”

  “Washington,” the man said. “He has big plans to build a nation out here.”

  “Hell, folks been planning those sort of things since they shot Alexander Hamilton,” another man said. “They never get nowhere. What made you think they kidnapped her?”

  “I don’t think she’d left there with Gifford.”

  “Why not?”

  “To be honest,” the old man said and picked up his new hand. “He was a real prick. No one liked him. He was mad all the time. Like he was still in prison. I doubt she’d even given him the time of day. There wasn’t a black guy killed there too?”

  “No. Why?”

  “He had an ex-slave that grew up with him and still waited on him hand and foot. Some guys would tell him Lincoln set him free, and he’d say ‘Not me. My momma said long as I lived I was responsible for him and his safety. Lincoln don’t make no never mind for me.’”

  “What was his name?”

  “Joshua Gifford. I figured that Gifford’s father was one that sowed his seeds in his black mother, and that was why she did that.”

  “He wasn’t staked out there on the plains.”

  “You ever see him, you won’t miss him. He stands way over six feet tall, broad-backed and powerful as any bull.”

  That was a new twist to the murders Slocum had found out there. There was or had been a black man in the deal somewhere. Hell only knew the story, and them dead folks weren’t telling anyone.

  He played three more hands and won the third one. Stowe came back to watch him rake in the pot.

  “We better sell them hides in the morning to Crawford and Hull’s yard. Start unloading at seven o’clock in the morning.”

  “We will be there.”

  “I can settle up with you and your men the next day. You are going back, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, but it will be damn cold by then. Need to cut lots of firewood, which cuts down on our killing time.”

  “I know that. But I think hides will go to ten dollars by spring.”