Slocum #395 : Slocum and the Trail to Yellowstone (9781101553640) (18 page)

“You even bled some?”

She quickly nodded. “A little, but I'm fine.”

“How did we meet again?” he asked, teasing her as he played with her breast.

“I got on this stagecoach in Buffalo and sat beside a big handsome man, who I could tell had powers I needed to experience. Wasn't I lucky?”

“No, the luck was all mine, honey.”

“No, dear, it was you who went all the way.”

They had fun playing honeymooners over and over again. Then in the night they climbed on the south-bound coach and headed for Cheyenne.

He wondered about Wilma and Houston and how they were making out. She had no doubt seduced him before they'd shared his camp for very long. It made him want to laugh, wondering how deep Houston had got in her—he hoped the man was a good lover. Wilma deserved one.

Cheyenne came too fast. They spent two more frolicking nights in a fine hotel bed, and then Slocum left her for Denver.

“Leave your address for me at a saddle maker named Gary Crane on Dray Street here in Cheyenne. If I get a chance to come by and the coast is clear, who knows, I may be back up here come spring. But don't wait for me. You have your own life.”

“I'm going to cry when you're gone. I won't now. But I've been a woman a long time and never knew what all I had missed about this business. Now I'm spoiled. Anything less in a partner would disappoint me.”

“Don't cry for me.”

She snuggled against him. “Oh, yes, I will, and when it is over, maybe I can find another lover nearly as good.”

“Try hard. I'm a sugar foot.”

“Yes, you are. Damn you anyhow.” She feinted driving a fist into his muscle-corded belly.

Hours later he rode out under the stars, feeling empty, and never turned to look back.

There was knock on the door of his hotel room. Slocum reached for his .44 out of habit. “Who's there?”

“Marty Sobell. I've got a fresh-off-the-press San Antonio newspaper that you need to read, I think.”

Slocum pulled on his pants, stuck the pistol in his waistband, and answered the door. He let the short man into the room and looked at the headlines on the paper the man handed him. A U.S. Army unit assigned to guard the Yellowstone Park had arrested two maniac killers inside the park's boundary. According to Captain Hightower, his men had been chasing these two killers for months. The outlaws were holding the twenty-year-old wife of a murdered homesteader as a hostage. It was alleged that the two had killed her husband and baby. Wyoming authorities said the pair had been marauding isolated landowners and Indian women. The pair—known only by their last names, Deushay and Roberson—were being held in the park jail until the spring thaw. Authorities said record snow in the park was hampering movements up there.

“They finally got them,” Slocum said, nodding in satisfaction. “That poor woman probably had no mind left. What a shame.”

“I figured you'd want to see that. Are you going down on the border to check on those Mexican cattle you want to buy?”

“In the morning,” Slocum said, still in a daze over the news of Deushay and Roberson's capture. That would even the score for Jennifer. “I'll get dressed and be down in the plaza in a little while. I appreciate that news.”

“I might tag along to the border, if you don't mind?”

Sobell was another drover he had known for years who took herds each year to Kansas. They both, he and Sobell, wanted to find an easier line of work and had talked about it extensively. “No, I don't mind. Come on. The more company the better.”

Slocum dressed and went down to the tables under the bare-limbed mesquite trees. Sobell, a shorter man with a mustache, was seated in the sunshine. A bartender took Slocum's order for food, and he cradled the large cup of coffee the man brought him.

“Well, another nice warm February day in Texas,” Sobell said.

“Yes, wonderful.” Slocum was still in shock. The deep snow must have driven those killers out in the open, but they were finally in jail awaiting trial. And Carley was in Cheyenne, a long ways from the ruins of the Alamo across the plaza from where Slocum sat feasting on his scrambled eggs, ground pork, and chili peppers all wrapped in a flour tortilla and covered with
verde
sauce.

“Those bandits held up a train in Montana and got off with eighty thousand dollars. The ones you said you met—Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,” Sobell said. “They left all the gold coins. Too hard to transport, someone said. Why, I could have lived out my life on one basket of them.”

“Fussy, aren't they?”

“Yeah, what were they like?”

“Kinda tough. One was as outgoing as a salesman. The other had dark hooded eyes like he suspected everyone he ran into.”

Sobell lifted his cup. “They just run around loose up there?”

“It wasn't in town. They were riding the outlaw trail then, and that's way back in the Bighorn Mountains.”

“Speaking of that, there were two guys that supposedly robbed their Texas boss last summer after he sold a herd in Montana.”

“I met them one night too. Ward and Smith were the names they gave me. They wanted to join Butch and Sundance when I first met them. I don't think the law ever got them either.”

“No, I ain't heard about that. I vaguely knew that guy they killed. Had a ranch out in the hill country. If they robbed and killed him and got all that money, they'd have enough money to lie back and keep their heads down for a long time.”

“I'd guess so.” Though he'd parted from her months ago, Slocum couldn't get the picture of a naked Carley out of his mind. There were plenty of dark-eyed girls shaking their butts around the plaza, and he'd sampled his share, but none of them matched being in bed with her. Whew.

“The trouble, Sobell, is they will piss away the money like those other two have, and then they'll have to make another big haul to keep up their standard of living.”

The man agreed. “I'll meet you at the livery at sunup?”

Slocum nodded.

The next two days, they rode down to San Jose, a sleepy border town across the Rio Grande. The river was shallow and they forded it on horseback. Then they put up their horses and got rooms in the Inn of San Raphael. Slocum's contact there, a man named Sanchez, was supposed to meet him at the inn on the fifteenth of the month. Slocum and Sobell arrived on the fourteenth, so they relaxed in the bar and waited.

Slocum had no urge to get drunk, so he sipped some wine and talked to some of the girls who worked the bar. There was one who came in and caught his eye, and on his invitation she came over. Her name was Silvia, and she looked fully packed in a tight-fitting short leather skirt and fringed blouse that exposed enough of her cleavage to intrigue a horny male. Slocum decided he was such a person.

He ordered lunch and by then Sobell had found a woman that matched his partner. A shorter, dark-eyed witch that looked interesting enough to eat. Oh well—to eat with anyway.

After lunch, siesta was mentioned, and the two pairs parted. With her high heels clicking on the tile floor, Silvia marched with Slocum up to his room on the second floor. His two French doors were open to a balcony, and he went over to look at the street below. A warm breeze blew in and fluttered the drapes as Silvia slipped under his arm and stuck her hard breast against his chest. He noticed two gringos hitch their horses and look around. Peering over at the top of their heads, Slocum thought they looked familiar—or he'd seen them before.

“You know those two?” she asked in a smoky voice.

“I don't recognize them.”

“Their names are Ward and Smith. They say there is big bounty on them in the States.”

“What do they do here?”

“They bought a ranch near here.”

“They amigos?”

She pulled his face down to meet hers. “No, all think they are lovers.” Her head shake told him the rest.

How had they slipped down here and openly bought a ranch? Must have been lots of money in their ex-boss's pockets for them to be able to do that, or maybe they'd joined a gang and made more money that way. He'd try to avoid them.

Silvia's hand gently cupped his privates and came up with a big smile. “Ah, this will be an interesting afternoon.”

Slocum turned back to Silvia. He lifted the fringed blouse off over her head and gazed at her pointed brown breasts. Perky enough looking. He dropped the garment on the bed and turned to hug her. She was packed hard as a blasting stick, and his tongue lashed with hers.

They soon were on top of the bed, coupled and going hard toward the relief at the end of the act. He closed his eyes to savor her tight pussy. Her body was a wave of muscles inside and out. And she knew how to excite a man with her various moves beneath him. But she also was worked up enough to amuse him—she wanted to be the fucker, but there was no way for her to gain that, though he enjoyed her tries. When he came at last inside of her, she bit his shoulder.

She rose up, shook her head, loosening her pinned up hair, and then flopped over on the bed as if done in. Her small shapely ass was toward him. He moved behind her. Her hand went to defend her rectum, but he held it aside and reentered her pussy quite easily. She strained some as he went deep.

“You are ready again. So soon?” she asked, sounding confused.

“Oh, darling, we ain't halfway there yet.” He began to pour his meat into her. She scrambled over on her belly, and he gave her lots of pounding. When he came this time, he used the fluids to lubricate her ass.

“Oh, no,” she protested, but he knew she had no say-so about what he did to her next. On her stomach underneath him, all she could do was take it—besides, he figured that when he got through with her, she might well have enjoyed all of it. His entry was slow, and she caught her scream as he pushed in, and then she beat the mattress with the sides of her fists. But soon she was away in la-la land and raised her butt in the air for him to go deeper. He came at last and they slept coupled together.

Someone knocked softly on his door an hour later.

“Yes?”

Sobell whispered, “You have company downstairs. Ward and Smith. Thought you might want to know. They don't know me.”

“I knew you'd want to know.”

Slocum walked across the room and, standing back from the window, looked out at the plaza. Silvia brought a wet cloth and gave his privates a brisk cleanup with it.

“What are you doing?” he asked, amused.

“I am going to make you stand on your toes.” She tossed the cloth at the bowl on the dresser and dropped to her knees. He looked down at her shapely brown form kneeling before him, and she took his half-hard cock and sucked on the end of it.

He said no more.

 

That evening Slocum was approached by Ward and Smith in the bar.

“Don't we know you?” Ward asked. “You weren't all dressed up in that shack when it rained so damn hard that night in Wyoming.”

“That was a real storm, wasn't it? I'm surprised to see you two down here. I saw that the gang you were looking to join had held up another express shipment.”

“Yeah, well, we decided we could stay down here and not get our heads blown off,” Smith said. “What brings you to Mexico?”

“Same thing brought me to Wyoming. Pussy.”

Smith slapped his knee and laughed aloud. “Now, ain't that something. A man who travels all over the damn world and looks for that.”

“It's safer than bank robbing.”

“You ever see them two killers again, the ones you were going after?” Ward asked.

Slocum shook his head.

“Well, happy pussy hunting,” Smith said, still laughing, as Slocum went over to join Sobell.

He didn't like them any better than the last time. Anyone that would shoot his boss in the back, bury him God knew where, and take his money was liable to do anything. They'd nimbly made it to Mexico and were going to live the good life as long as their money lasted.

“Reckon the law knows they're down here?” Sobell asked.

“The law has no money to go after them north of the border, let alone in Mexico where there is no law.”

“What are they worth?” Sobell asked quietly, as if considering something about them.

“I think a thousand that the family had offered at the outset.”

“That real?”

“Damned if I know. Lots of big rewards never get paid.”

“Who offered that reward?”

“Told you—family, I think. I guess we can check with a wire to the county sheriff up at Mason County.”

Sobell nodded, looking deep in thought. “I'll do that later this afternoon.”

“You needing money?”

“Be a shame not to take it.” The man smiled at the notion. “Why wouldn't we do that? And not have to deal with men like Sanchez, buying cattle that he probably stole.”

“If the money is in a bank, it looks like it might be like you say—easy.”

Sobell shook his head. “I don't care if they'll come easy or come feetfirst. Pays the same.”

“They might be tougher than you think.”

Sobell ordered another drink and ignored his warning. “When's Sanchez coming?”

Slocum chuckled. “This is Mexico. Maybe today.” He turned his palms up.

“Maybe. Yeah, we are south of the border. Time means nothing down here. Where's Silvia?”

“Said she had business to take care of.”

“Business, huh?”

“I'm not sure. She's real enough. Maybe too real.”