Slocum and the Spirit Bear (9781101618790) (4 page)

4

The wagon train rumbled across the prairies of Nebraska with mountainous regions in their sights. The winds were harsh and sprouted icy claws as the sun went down, giving everyone a taste of what was surely to be a horrific winter. Slocum was given another gray horse to take the place of the one he'd ridden from Missouri, but this one was a gelding with a thick coat that was the color of dense fog at early evening. It was a spirited animal that seemed plenty happy to be relieved from its duty at the front of Ed's wagon where it could run away from the other teams beneath a rider that was equally glad to strike out on his own.

Slocum's primary duty was to ensure the safety of the wagons and the people within them. In the absence of any immediate dangers, he acted as scout and rode ahead to get a look at the trail as well as the terrain they were about to cross. In the first day he rode with them, Ed and May were some of the only ones to truly make him feel welcome. The children gave him anxious little grins, and the rest made do with uncomfortable small talk. For the most part, that was all just fine with Slocum.

The next day was a little easier. Part of that was because it couldn't have started on a better foot thanks to the biscuits and gravy cooked up by Franco. As the sun crested the horizon, Franco emerged from his wagon and bustled about the fire like a man possessed. It was an amusing sight considering the fact that he was a slender man apart from a bulbous belly that protruded from his midsection like a pregnant woman's bulge. He cooked the biscuits and slathered them in gravy that was thick with large chunks of ham and sausage.

“There's no way this could taste as good as it smells,” Slocum said as he approached the front of the line for his portion.

Franco stopped with gravy dripping from his ladle onto the biscuits he'd piled onto the plate in his hand. “Is that a joke?”

“Not at all.”

“You're insulting my food?”

“No, I'm just saying it smells too good to be true.” Weathering the cook's angry glare, Slocum dipped his spoon into the gravy once he was handed his plate. The spoon went into his mouth and was barely out again before he proclaimed, “Turns out this is a rare case indeed. This is actually better than it smells and I would have paid a pretty penny just to smell something like this in damn near any restaurant.”

“Please, Mr. Slocum,” Vera McCauley said. “Watch your language.”

It seemed Vera was the only one to take offense. The children in the vicinity still gazed upon Slocum as if he were a carnival exhibit, and Franco was doing a poor job of containing the pride that swelled his chest to tax the already strained seams of his shirt. That day was a long one, since it involved crossing a stream that had swollen enough to obscure enough half-buried logs and deep trenches to potentially send several of the wagons to the bottom. After hours spent testing dozens of different potential crossings, Slocum, Ed, Tom, and Josiah found a path that delivered all the wagons safely to the other side.

When Franco prepared a simple lunch of bacon sandwiches and beans, Slocum and the other men were still soaked to the bone. That chill had worked all the way down to the core of Slocum's body when supper was served, but he was still able to shake it off while enjoying a thick beefy stew. He fell asleep near the fire while James Wilcox told him everything he'd learned in his short life about Indian tribes and the bloody battles fought by the Sioux.

Sharing meals with James Wilcox and his mother quickly became a habit for Slocum. Considering how lively the boy's stories were and how focused he was on anything Slocum said in return, it wasn't much of a chore. Once Theresa warmed up to him enough for her to sit beside Slocum and laugh at some of his bad jokes, it became a downright pleasure. Everyone in the wagon train had accepted Slocum by then, but Theresa showed him more than just accommodating politeness. Every night, she sat a little closer to him, smiled a bit longer when he looked in her direction, and finally lingered a bit longer whenever he found a way to brush against her warm body or touch the thick curls of her hair.

They'd enjoyed each other's company from the first moment they had a chance to talk without the rest of the wagon train watching them. They'd gotten closer on the third night after he'd signed on with them. Slocum had been riding alongside the wagons, watching the horizon, while Ed took his turn scouting ahead. It hadn't taken long for Slocum to get beside Theresa's wagon and match its pace.

They'd started off joking about a few things and then he asked about how she'd wound up riding across the country with everything she owned crammed into the back of a wagon. Theresa's husband hadn't been good for much of anything apart from giving her James. He was a drunkard with a mean streak and a coward who could only unleash that streak upon a woman and small child. She'd left him and wouldn't accept charity, but prospects were slim. Slim, that is, until she got an opportunity to throw in with a small group of prospectors who were in need of backers as well as able bodies to help work a claim. Theresa had strong hands and a quick enough tongue to convince Ed that she'd be an invaluable addition to the group. She wanted a fresh start for herself and her son and had the means to head out on Ed's schedule. Making the trip with them marked the end of her savings and was an all-or-nothing proposition for her. That, in itself, made her just like everyone else driving those wagons into Colorado.

Slocum's story didn't have as many pieces as hers. He told her how he'd wound up in Saint Joseph, which was simply a stop on his way from Saint Louis. He'd gone to Missouri in the first place to visit an old friend. When that friend begged to borrow money to get back on his feet after yet another failed business venture, Slocum handed over what money he had as a way to cut ties with the so-called friend with a clear conscience. He'd barely had enough to buy a run-down horse and had been working his way across the state to check in with another acquaintance who owed him money. That acquaintance was nowhere to be found, leaving Slocum in the lurch. He took a few jobs, wound up in Saint Joseph, and met up with Ed.

He and Theresa spent a good portion of that day joking about the uselessness of old acquaintances until it was time to make camp for the night. They'd joked some more and took a walk in the moonlight after everyone else was asleep in their bedrolls. He'd kissed her the first time then and they'd shared several more during the following nights.

While taller than most women, she didn't stoop or try to hide it in any way. She carried herself with pride and a strength that came from fending for herself and her young one for a good, long time. Her eyes were smoky and inviting, and she spoke to him in a rich voice that was easy to turn toward laughter. During the evening after Slocum's first week on the trail with them, he found himself with his back to the fire long after the children had been put to bed. He stared out toward the western horizon, studying the stars, which seemed to sparkle even brighter since the darkness had grown colder.

“Aren't you coming to bed?” Theresa asked while sidling up to stand beside him.

Slocum stood with a large boulder between him and the wagons. The rock wasn't tall enough to hide him completely from the others, but was enough to give a small amount of privacy. His intention had been just to have something solid to lean against for a while, but he was now grateful for the makeshift barrier. “Did someone dig out a bed for me to use?” he asked.

She laughed and wrapped her arms around herself to hold her woolen shawl in place. “I guess that just sounded better than me asking if you plan on coming back so you can sleep on the ground wrapped up in a bunch of dirty blankets. After all, a question like that might make you want to throw your saddle on your horse and ride in the opposite direction while our backs were turned.”

“Don't worry. You folks are stuck with me for a while.”

“Not stuck,” she said softly. “Not hardly.”

“What brings you out here so far from the fire?”

“You do.”

Slocum turned to get a look at her. In the last several days, he'd been noticing her more and more. Her dark hair and pretty face had struck him from the moment they'd been introduced, but it wasn't long before he found his thoughts lingering on the shapely curves of her body and the long legs he imagined were beneath the skirts she always wore. Her hands were strong and her skin was smooth, taking his thoughts in other directions on cold nights such as this. Doing his best to keep his face from betraying those thoughts, even in the shadows, he said, “I'm on watch tonight.”

“Does there really seem to be a danger of being robbed again? I would think it'd be like lightning,” she said with an uneasy laugh. “Get struck once and the odds are pretty slim of getting struck again.”

“There's a lot of men who might see these wagons as an easy target. More of them than lightning strikes, I'd wager. Then there's animals that could come after our food or the horses. There's also—”

She stopped him with a hand placed on his arm. “I understand. Any more of your explanation and you might make me too nervous to sleep.”

“Sorry about that. Guess it's my nature to think about all the angles, no matter how grim some of them might be.”

“That's how a man survives on his own in this world.” She moved in closer and took a seat beside him. When she leaned against him, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. “How long have you been on your own?”

After a short bit of contemplation, Slocum told her, “Long enough that it doesn't seem to matter anymore.”

She pressed herself against him, leaned over, and whispered, “It matters.”

Slocum turned toward her and placed the edge of one finger beneath her chin. That way, he could lift her face just enough to kiss her on the lips. It was a long, lingering kiss that had the added spice of being stolen while no one was looking. Slocum felt a rush through his entire body when he wrapped her in his arms and laid her down on the blanket he'd been using to cushion himself from the cold, hard ground.

Theresa seemed reluctant at first, but the quick glances toward the wagons let Slocum know she was more worried about being discovered than what was actually happening. “Don't worry,” he whispered. “As long as we're quiet, we can hear anything bigger than a field mouse that comes toward us.”

“That's the problem,” she said. “I don't know if I can be quiet with you.”

Now, there was no mistaking that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. If there was any shred of doubt in his mind, it was erased when she positioned herself beneath him and started tugging at his belt to loosen it. First, the gun belt came off and was placed within easy reach. Next, she worked on his jeans while Slocum eased his hands up under her skirts. After navigating through layers of cloth and slips, he found the cotton undergarments separating him from where he wanted to be. Slocum tried pulling them off her carefully at first, but the urgency that had been building inside both of them boiled over until he ripped her undergarments off. The only other sound apart from the tearing fabric was the excited groan issuing from the back of Theresa's throat.

She froze in place, leaning her head back to once again look toward the wagons. She couldn't see them because of the rock at their backs, but she listened intently for any hint of movement approaching their spot. Slocum listened as well, and when he heard nothing but the wind, he slid his hand between her legs until his fingers found their way to the soft thatch of hair between her thighs.

Theresa arched her back and tightened her grip on his arms as Slocum started rubbing her pussy. Her eyes clenched shut and she opened her legs so he could reach in farther and vigorously stroke her. Before long, her entire body began to tremble and she fought the impulse to cry out. When her eyes snapped open again, she looked as if she was on a mission to tear his clothes off as quickly as humanly possible.

Having already started on his jeans, she pulled them open the rest of the way and tugged them down. She barely finished that job before turning her attention to his shirt. Slocum had shifted his focus as well, using both hands to loosen the ties at the front of her dress so he could get his hands upon her warm, bare breasts. And then, like a harsh reminder of where they were, a cold wind tore in from the north to stop them both in their tracks.

“Maybe . . . this isn't such a good idea,” Theresa reluctantly said.

Slocum's only response was to take the blanket they'd been using as a mat, unfold it, and drape it over them as protection from the cold. Once the wind was no longer slicing into them and they each had the other's body for warmth, their hands began probing once more and Theresa lay on her back to look up at Slocum as well as the stars above.

Her dress was a rumpled mess around her, more like another blanket than anything she could actually wear. Without all the ties or fasteners in place, she wriggled most of the way out of it with ease. Slocum kicked his boots off and slid out of his jeans. His penis was rigid and Theresa wasted no time in reaching down to feel it for herself. Once her hand was wrapped around him, she started stroking. Her eyes locked on to his to watch his face register every bit of pleasure she was giving him. He reached down to her pussy once more, finding it even wetter than before. Settling on top of her, Slocum felt her legs open wide to accept him. Theresa maintained her grip on his shaft, guiding him toward her moist opening.

Slocum closed his eyes, savoring the moment when the tip of his cock brushed against the lips of her pussy. When he entered her, the cold around them was no longer an issue. He drove all the way inside and stayed there. Theresa's arms wrapped around him, holding him in place.

“God, I've wanted this,” she whispered. “Feels . . . so good.”

There was a smile on her face. It was a faraway expression as she craned her head back and moved her hands up and down along Slocum's back. When he pumped into her, she let out a grunt, which was quickly stifled before it turned into anything louder. As Slocum drove into her again and again, he realized that he, too, needed to watch how much noise he made. While he was never one to care much for what others thought of him, he didn't want to make things uncomfortable for Theresa among the people in the wagon train, who'd become like a close-knit family. Those thoughts were nothing but a fleeting thing rushing through his mind, however, since Slocum had plenty more to think about.