Slocum and the Spirit Bear (9781101618790) (5 page)

He thought about how good it felt to bury his cock into Theresa's warm, wet pussy.

He thought about the way her body tensed beneath him or the way she bucked her hips in time to his thrusts after wrapping her legs around him.

He thought about the way she clawed at his back through his shirt and how wild she must be if she could truly let go and give in to every little desire that crossed her mind.

When he slowed down for a while and then pounded into her even harder, he could feel her tighten around him while her entire body quivered. She bit down on her lower lip and pressed her face against Slocum's shoulder so her moans were muffled as she climaxed.

Then, she was squirming as if she was trying to get out from beneath the weight of his body.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“You made me feel so good,” she replied. “I want you to feel good, too.”

“Just stay where you are,” he told her. “I'm about to feel plenty good.”

She wore a little smirk as she crawled out from under him and pushed him onto his back. From there, she crawled on top of him and kissed his mouth, neck, and chest. Slocum could feel the wet lips between her legs brushing against his rigid pole as she kissed him. And then, when she moved beneath the blanket to put her head between his legs, he was truly driven to the brink.

Theresa's mouth was soft as it wrapped around the tip of his penis. Her tongue was warm against his cock and she took every inch of it inside as she eased her head all the way down. Slocum enjoyed her attentions, but still craved to be inside her so he could finish the job he'd started. That craving was forgotten as soon as Theresa's tongue began slipping up and down along his member while her head bobbed up and down.

Slocum had had other women use their mouth on him, but Theresa's was magic. She sped up or slowed down as if she knew exactly how he wanted her to move. Just when he thought she'd taken him to the height of pleasure, she started sucking on him while her tongue teased the underside of his pole.

“Jesus,” Slocum grunted. Now he was the one who had to contain himself before drawing too much attention. But he wasn't worried about that any longer. Foremost on his mind was placing his hands on either side of her head and enjoying the rest of what she was giving him.

Theresa's hands moved over his hips and up along his chest. Lowering her head, she took Slocum's penis into her mouth all the way down to its base. Then, as she slowly lifted her head, she sucked him and fluttered her tongue against his sensitive flesh.

He couldn't take it any longer. Slocum's body tensed and the bottoms of his feet pressed against the ground as his pleasure raced toward its conclusion. When he climaxed, he grit his teeth and drew a deep breath while exploding into her mouth. She drank him down until she'd had every drop. When she eased away from him, Slocum wouldn't have been able to get to his feet if a pack of wolves had been charging toward him.

“My goodness,” she said while licking the corner of her mouth. “You're trembling.”

“Must be the cold,” he said weakly.

She climbed to her feet, straightened her dress so it fell more or less where it should, and then fastened enough of the clasps and ties to keep it in place. “Yes,” she chuckled. “I'm sure it's just the cold.”

Slocum watched her circle around the rock and lean over to take a look at the wagons. The coast must have been clear because she gave him an offhanded wave before walking back to the main campsite. After she was gone, he pulled his clothes back on and bundled the blanket so it could be used as a backrest again.

It was a cold night and the air felt as if it would only get colder with each day that passed. For the moment, however, Slocum didn't feel the slightest chill.

5

The next morning, Theresa tried to act as if nothing had happened. She and James awoke around the same time as the others, came to the cook fire, and helped make preparations for the day while Franco put breakfast together. The morning meal consisted of griddle cakes and bacon with syrup that the cook insisted was imported all the way from Canada. Slocum wasn't an expert on maple syrup, but he knew good griddle cakes when he tasted them and he tasted plenty of them before saddling his horse and heading out.

Scouting was a relaxing affair, simply because there wasn't much to see apart from bare trees and flat terrain that was beginning to show signs of hills and steeper slopes. It wouldn't be long before they crossed into Colorado and not long after that before they caught their first glimpse of the Rockies.

In the days since he'd acquired his new horse, Slocum could tell the animal was growing accustomed to him. Subtle motions of the reins and the occasional touch of his feet against the horse's sides were all that he needed to guide it. Finding his way back to the wagon train was done at an exhilarating pace that got steam coming from the horse's nostrils before it was asked to slow down.

Late in the afternoon, Ed sat at his place in the driver's seat of the lead wagon. Waving to Slocum, he asked, “See anything we need to worry about out there?”

“Not unless you're worried about falling asleep. Just a whole lot of wide-open country.”

“That's what I like to hear! Keep up the great work, John.”

Slocum's horse was standing in place, allowing the wagons to roll past it, which allowed him to hear Josiah when he grumbled, “Ain't like he made the damn country so flat.”

Once the last wagon was rolling by, Slocum flicked his reins to get his horse moving again. He easily kept pace with Josiah while looking over to find the older man hunched forward as if he was studying every motion of his team's backside. “You got some quarrel with me?” Slocum asked.

“You know damn well how I feel. I never wanted you along for this ride and it looks more and more like there ain't no reason for you to be here.”

“I've been doing everything that's asked of me.”

“Sure,” he chuckled. “I just bet you have.”

Slocum couldn't be sure if Josiah's gaze had drifted toward Theresa's wagon in particular or if that was just his own suspicions tainting his thoughts. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“I don't gotta explain myself to nobody. Sure as hell don't gotta explain nothing to the likes of you.”

Whatever Josiah knew about Theresa no longer mattered to Slocum. “You have a problem, then spit it out,” he said. “Unless you'd rather just keep your head down and mumble like an old woman?”

Josiah's eyebrows rose and his upper body followed. In fact, it seemed as if he might stand up right there in the driver's seat to challenge Slocum when he replied, “Old woman? You sure you want to test your luck with me, boy?”

“Keep flapping your gums the way you've been doing and I'll show you what this boy can—”

A sound rolled in from the south that was part wailing cry and part howl. Slocum turned toward the direction from which it had come, only to find the same bunch of hills rising gradually to a low rise less than half a mile from the trail. He'd circled around behind those hills less than an hour ago and couldn't see anything on them now apart from stalks of grass and patches of weeds that were too stubborn to die in the mounting chill.

“What the hell was that?” Slocum asked.

Josiah propped one foot upon the boards in front of him. “How should I know? I'm just driving this here wagon. The man that should know is the one paid to do the scouting.”

Before Josiah had even gotten the last of his words out, Slocum's horse was kicking up dust as he urged it to race toward those hills. Behind him, Ed shouted, “You need some help, John?”

Slocum knew better than to waste any time with a reply so he just kept riding.

Ed watched him for a few more seconds before motioning for the wagons to come to a halt. After setting his brake, he climbed down from the wagon and untied one of the horses secured to a hitch on the side of the wagon. “Anyone else tries to follow me,” he said to his wife, “tell them to stay put.”

“Why?” May said, suddenly worried as she watched her husband climb into the other horse's saddle. “What if both of you need help?”

“And what if something comes at these wagons while both of us are out there? This is why we hired John to come with us. Josiah is here. He and Tom can keep watch. Sending any more than two of us away just to chase a peculiar noise could be too costly.”

“That noise was more than peculiar,” May said as a chill rolled through her that had nothing to do with the wind.

“I know, darlin'. Just stay put and hand me that rifle.”

She reached for the Spencer rifle tucked beneath the driver's seat and handed it down to him. When he took the weapon from her, Ed was sure to brush his fingers along his wife's hand for one last bit of her warmth before riding away. Her eyes shifted toward Josiah, who'd settled into his seat with his foot propped up as if it were just another lazy afternoon.

“Miss May!” Little Michael McCauley shouted from the wagon directly behind her. “Did that noise come from a monster?”

“No such things as monsters,” she replied.

“Should I ride out with Ed?” Tom McCauley asked.

May stood up and turned around so she could be heard by the rest of the wagons. Her voice was stern and full of authority when she said, “Everyone sit tight and wait here. Ed and John are going to check on whatever that was. Tom, you're to stay here with us.”

Tom gripped his rifle and stayed put to guard the women and children. Since she didn't know what the two men were checking on in the first place, May was relieved that nobody asked any more questions.

Slocum pulled back on the reins just enough to slow his horse from a full gallop to a quick trot. Although the animal's hooves still crunched upon the gritty earth, there was a lot less noise than when the wind had been rushing past his face and the ground had been trampled beneath him. When Ed drew closer, Slocum signaled for the other man to slow his horse as well.

“What cried out like that?” Ed asked as he came up alongside Slocum.

“Don't know yet, but I think I saw some movement over by those trees.”

Ed squinted in that direction. “Something was definitely moving over yonder. Some branches were set to swaying and . . .” Pausing when he got another quick wave from Slocum, he finished his thought in a terse whisper. “And something's creeping on the ground.”

“Yeah,” Slocum replied. “I see that, too.”

Set just over the top rise of the hills, the trees stood huddled in a small, tight group like a family relying on each other for warmth. Slocum wasn't about to count them all, but he knew from riding past them earlier that there were more of them leading down the backside of the hills than he could see from here. Even so, he guessed there weren't many more than a dozen or so standing trunks in all. The swaying branches had been easy enough to spot. He knew a passing breeze hadn't gotten them moving because none of the higher branches in the trees were swaying.

The movement Ed had spotted was even tougher to explain. While some trees could very well have caught a little gust of wind that hadn't touched any of the others, the motion of the ground at the base of some of those trees was definitely peculiar. Slocum reached down into his saddlebag to retrieve his field glasses. When he put the glasses to his eyes, the lenses were pointed at a spot fairly close to where the movement had been.

“See anything?” Ed asked.

“Not yet.”

“I can't see it at all anymore.”

Slocum wasn't about to write it off just yet, but was beginning to think he'd lost sight of it as well. After sweeping the glasses back and forth a few times, he became convinced that he was searching the right spot. The movement was no longer there, however. “Could have been a trick of the light,” he said.

“I guess so, but . . . I don't know. It ain't that bright out here.”

Slocum didn't need to look away to verify that. A bank of think, gray clouds had rolled in to blot out most of the sun. While there didn't seem to be a danger of rain, the sky had been turned into the color of damp stone. It was the kind of light that filtered down through the clouds to bathe everything below in washed-out hues.

“Could it have been an animal?” Ed asked.

“I don't think so,” he sighed. “I'm starting to think it's just some little breeze swirling around out there, kicking up dead leaves and pushing the branches around.”

Ed was hesitant to reply, but he finally gave in. “I suppose. Wait!” he snapped while stretching a hand out far enough for Slocum to see a few fingers at the edges of his lenses. “Right over there. Near the right edge of the trees. I saw it again.”

Because he was looking at a much narrower portion of the horizon, Slocum had missed it. He panned his field glasses over and caught sight of something moving on top of the ground. The longer he looked, the more he swore it could have been the ground itself writhing beneath a carpet of leaves at the feet of those trees. Wind rustled near the spot where he and Ed had come to a stop. Judging by the soft rustle of leaves close by, it could very well have been the same breeze that had gotten both men so suspicious. Just when Slocum was about to write the whole thing off as a couple of twitchy minds feeding off each other, he saw the motion among the trees again.

This time, it was different. Instead of something shifting beneath the fallen leaves, the leaves themselves were moving. Upon closer inspection, he saw it was something covered by leaves that was moving. That distinction, combined with the howl he'd heard, made whatever was crawling around out there seem much more common.

Slowly shaking his head, Slocum said, “I think it really is just some animal.”

“What about that howling? I never heard the likes of that before.”

“Could be a wounded animal. You ever hear a rabbit being eaten by a coyote? You'd swear it was singing.”

“What I heard wasn't singing,” Ed insisted. “Surely you agree with that.”

“I'm not about to agree with anything. All I know is—” Suddenly, Slocum's field of vision was eclipsed by a wave of rough edges and dark browns. He was still looking through the field glasses, and when he lowered them, he saw something resembling a piece of earth that had come up to swat him in the face.

A dull, thumping impact hit Slocum in the ribs, sending him reeling back in his saddle. His ears were filled with the pounding of blood rushing through his head as well as the churning of his own breaths. The howl that had brought both men up the ridge came back. Somehow, it seemed both distant and terrifyingly close at the same time. Along with that, several voices screamed and hollered in a frenzied but very human war cry.

Ed's horse reared up and let out a loud whinny. He struggled with the reins using one hand while pulling his Smith & Wesson pistol with the other. More shapes sprang from the ground amid fluttering leaves and bits of dirt as if they'd been spat up from the earth to attack them. Slocum wasn't able to distinguish much from where he sat because he was leaning back and to the side after getting the wind knocked out of him. He collected himself in less than three seconds, but hoped that wasn't too late.

Straining to pull himself upright again, Slocum reached for the Colt at his side. Before he could get to the weapon, his arm brushed against something coarse and tough. It was the same flailing attacker that had knocked him back, and it was still swinging at him with limbs wrapped in filthy rags and layers of old, decaying leaves. The stench was that of rotten soil beneath an old, fungus-encrusted log. Bitter and sickeningly sweet, the odor clung to the back of his throat as he tried to draw his next breath. Ed struggled with more of them, but Slocum had to put that aside when he caught the glint of a blade coming at him.

He leaned back even farther than when he'd been knocked back a few seconds ago. A knife sliced through the air inches in front of him and came back again less than a heartbeat later. Slocum brought his free hand up to grab the mess of filth and leaves just below the knife. Sure enough, his fist closed around something that felt like an arm beneath that mess. He kept his grip to prevent the knife from being buried into his chest while swinging his gun around to fire a quick shot. The Colt barked once, hitting nothing. It had been his intention to buy himself some time and breathing room by startling his attacker. Unfortunately, this attacker wasn't about to be startled.

Another gunshot went off, followed by Ed's voice. “Get the hell off'a me!” he shouted.

Once again, Slocum tried to regain his balance. Just as he got his bearings, something slapped against his face to blot out the light and smother him in more of the sickening scents he'd caught earlier. Trying to breathe only made matters worse. His stomach churned and his head spun as he was not only cut off from his air, but forced from his saddle and partly off his horse.

Slocum's feet were caught in his stirrups and his horse turned around in a nervous circle. His first instinct was to fire another shot, but Slocum held off until his gun bumped against something solid. When he heard the shooting iron scrape against dead leaves, he pulled his trigger. He must have hit the attacker while that knife was being swung because Slocum felt something scrape against his chest rather than plunge straight into it. He fired again and again, hoping to discourage his attacker from cutting his throat as he dangled from the side of his horse.

Pain lanced through Slocum's leg as the foot caught within the stirrup became twisted at an odd angle. Somewhere along the line, he'd freed the foot from the right side, which didn't help him much since his entire body was slipping down along the horse's left. He couldn't even guess how his limbs were tangled, but he knew the leg that was still wedged inside a stirrup was trapped between his body and his horse's side. In a matter of seconds, bone would give way and he would be in even hotter water than he was now.