The Two-Gun Kid Page 6

  Before he could react, she took him in her mouth again, but this time she began to suck him avidly. He watched her and was shocked at how much of him she was able to take.

  She continued to suck on him, and had a firm hold around the base of his cock. He closed his hands into fists and felt his toes curling. At one point his hands went to her head and held her there, and then he pulled them away when he realized what he was doing.

  “You can touch, darling,” she said, letting his penis slip wetly from her mouth. “You can touch me wherever you want.”

  She slid up onto him, sat on him so that his penis was trapped between them, and dangled her full breasts in his face.

  “There,” she said. “Enjoy.”

  He reached for them, held them in his hands, squeezed them, touched her nipples, but did not take them into his mouth until she leaned down even further and pushed them into his face.

  “Come on,” she said. “Taste ’em. Suck ’em, bite ’em. Let’s have a good time!”

  TWENTY

  “What’s the matter?” one of the girls in the parlor asked Clint. “Can’t make a choice?”

  “Well,” Clint said, “after all, you’re all so beautiful.”

  She laughed, a sound that Clint found oddly pleasing and soothing. He turned his head to take a better look at her. He had already sent four girls away, not because they weren’t attractive, but because he had never paid for sex before, and he didn’t intend to start today.

  This one was in her late twenties and—unlike the others, who were attractive enough—she would have been lovely but for a scar that ran from her right eyebrow to the right corner of her mouth.

  She smiled at him, though, and when she smiled the scar almost disappeared.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Emily.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “A few months,” she said. “I was passin’ through, got stranded, and they hired me. When I put some money away, I’ll keep going.”

  “To where?”

  “Just west,” she said. “Maybe I’ll end up in San Francisco.”

  “And do the same thing there that you’re doing here?”

  “Why not?” she asked. “It’s honest work, isn’t it?”

  “Hey,” he said, putting his hands up, “I’m not judging you, I’m just making conversation.”

  She calmed down and placed her hand on his knee.

  “Would you like to continue it upstairs?”

  “I don’t think so, Emily,” he said, “but thanks for the offer.”

  She sighed, retrieved her hand, and then looked around the parlor. The other men waiting there were either fat, old, dirty, or all three.

  “Would it be so bad to pay for it, just this once?” she asked.

  “I’m afraid I can’t, Emily. Sorry.”

  “Well, all right.”

  She got up and walked across the room to where the least offensive of all the men was sitting. He looked like a big-bellied storekeeper who had taken the afternoon off.

  Clint hoped Roscoe was learning a good lesson upstairs . . .

  “Are you sure?” Lee asked Hector.

  “Of course I’m sure,” the Mexican said. “The tracks lead right into that town.”

  “Ely?” Lee said. “That’s a town?”

  “I know about it,” Hector said. “It’s got whiskey, beer, and whores.”

  “Then it’s a town. Let’s go.”

  “We can’t go down there,” Hector said.

  “Why not?”

  “Adams will see us.”

  “So what? He doesn’t know who you are,” Lee argued, “and neither does that kid. And maybe they won’t remember me.”

  “What do you want to do down there anyway?” Hector asked.

  “What do you think?” Lee asked with a grin. “I ain’t been with a woman in a while.”

  “Well, I am not going,” Hector said. “I will wait here for you.”

  “You’re gonna make me go in alone?”

  “I am.”

  Lee frowned.

  Hector pressed on. “I will leave it to you to explain to Zack why you went down there.”

  The two men sat their horses and stared down at the few buildings.

  “So what do you suggest?” Lee asked.

  “We sit here and wait,” Hector said.

  “For what?”

  “Well, for them to leave,” Hector said, “or for Zack to show up.”

  “Zack,” Lee said, “is back in Ellsworth with a cold beer and a hot whore.”

  Hector dismounted.

  “I’m going to make a cold camp,” he said. “You can do what you want.”

  “Jesus,” Lee complained, “on top of everything else a cold camp?”

  He hesitated, debating about what to do—cold camp or whiskey and a willing, paid-for woman—and in the end he dismounted.

  TWENTY-ONE

  “Again?” Lola asked.

  “Yeah, again!” Roscoe said, hopping up onto his knees. “Lie back.”

  He pushed her down and she laughed, spreading her legs. He pressed the head of his penis against her wet portal and pushed. When he was inside, he began fucking her as hard as he could.

  “I . . . really . . . do . . . love . . . young . . . men,” she said into his ear.

  Roscoe had heard other men talk about sex, but he’d never expected it to feel this good. He was simply amazed.

  He slid his hands beneath Lola’s ass and pulled her to him with each stroke. She alternately grunted and laughed, wrapping her legs around his waist.

  “This . . . is . . . gonna . . . cost . . . extra, you know,” she said.

  “I don’t care,” he yelled.

  “Come on, then,” she exhorted him, “ride me, ride me harder . . . faster . . .”

  He thought he was riding as hard and fast as he could, but in the next moment he discovered that he hadn’t been.

  “Whooee, that’s it!” Lola cried.

  “What’s wrong?” Clint asked the madam.

  “One of my girls says there’s a lot of noise coming from Lola’s room,” the woman said. She was heavy, with lots of cleavage that looked like dough.

  “So?”

  “I’m just sayin’ ” she told him, “if your boy is doin’ any harm—”

  “Believe me,” Clint said, “he’s not doing any harm. He’s probably just having a good time. It’s his first.”

  “Oh,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Why didn’t you say so? Lola’s probably got him shoutin’ at the moon.”

  There was no moon, but he knew what she meant.

  “No,” Lola said, waving Roscoe away, “not again, lover. You’ve worn me out. Besides, I have to get back downstairs. I have other work to do, you know.”

  “Work?”

  “That’s what this is,” she said, donning her dress. “That’s why you pay me.”

  “But,” Roscoe said, “I love you, Lola.”

  “Sweet boy,” she said, touching his face. “You don’t love me, you love what’s between my legs.”

  “I love you for more than that.”

  She took his face in her hands and kissed him.

  “Don’t be a foolish boy,” she said. “You’ll have other women, other girls. Now get dressed. We have to go back downstairs.”

  Roscoe picked up his underwear and trousers and put them on, followed by his boots and then his guns.

  “Come on, lovely boy,” she said. “Follow me downstairs.”

  She held her hand out to him and he took it. She led him from the room.

  “You what?” Clint asked as they left the building.

  “I love Lola.”

  “No, you don’t,” Clint said. “You love what she has between her legs.”

  “That’s what she said.”

  “Well, she’s right,” Clint said, “and so am I. Come on, we have some riding to do.”

  “Riding?” Roscoe asked. “Ain’t we gonna stay in
a hotel?”

  “Look around you, Bookbinder,” Clint said. “There is no hotel here.”

  “So we gotta sleep on the ground again?”

  “That’s right. And you’re going to have the first watch.”

  “B-but . . . I’m exhausted.”

  “Yeah,” Clint said, smiling, “I’m sure you are.”

  “Hey, hey,” Lee said. “Look.”

  “What?” Hector asked.

  “They’re comin’.”

  Hector walked over to stand next to Lee and looked down toward Ely. He saw the two riders coming toward them.

  “Crap!” Lee said. “They’re comin’ back the way they came.”

  “We have to break camp and move,” Hector said. “And quickly!”

  “Make camp,” Lee complained, “break camp. I knew we shoulda went into town.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  “What is it?” Roscoe asked.

  Clint dismounted and held on to Eclipse’s reins while he crouched down and touched the ground.

  “Somebody made a cold camp here,” he said, “and very recently.”

  “A cold camp?”

  “A camp without a fire.”

  “Why would somebody do that?”

  Clint waited until he was remounted before answering the question.

  “Because they didn’t want anyone to see their fire, smell their smoke.”

  “They were hidin’?”

  “Apparently.”

  “From who?”

  Clint shrugged. “Maybe us.” He looked around.

  “Whataya mean?”

  “Somebody might be following us.”

  “What for?”

  “What they usually follow me for,” Clint said. “To take a shot at me.”

  “You mean, because of who you are?”

  “That’s right,” Clint said. “That’s what you have to look forward to if you get a rep with a gun, kid.”

  “Yeah, well,” Roscoe said, “it must be worth it if you did it.”

  “I didn’t have anybody telling me ahead of time what I had to look forward to,” Clint said. “Nobody to warn me off.”

  “Well, I don’t warn so easy.”

  “I get that,” Clint said. “Come on, we’ll have to stay aware of our surroundings.”

  “Keep an eye out, you mean?”

  “Eyes, ears, nose,” Clint said. “You’ve got to use all your senses out here, Bookbinder.”

  Roscoe started looking around, as if something would appear at any minute.

  “And pay attention to the horses,” Clint said. “They’ll probably know something before you do.”

  “You always act like the horses are smarter than us,” Roscoe said.

  “Out here,” Clint said, “they are.”

  “We are in trouble,” Hector said.

  “Why?” Lee asked.

  “They know we were camped there.”

  “That don’t matter,” Lee said. “We’re watchin’ from a safe distance. They don’t know who we are or where we are.”

  “But they know we are out here,” Hector said. “Zack is not going to like that—and neither is his cousin.”

  “His cousin?”

  Hector looked at Lee.

  “You are his partner and you do not know his cousin?” Hector asked.

  “We don’t talk about families, Hector,” Lee said. “Who the hell is his cousin?”

  “Heston,” Hector said, “Darby Heston.”

  “Heston? He never told me that! Jesus, it’s bad enough he’s got me mixed up with the Gunsmith, but Heston? Another gunny?”

  “Heston is more than a pistolero,” Hector said. “He is a killer.”

  “That’s what it will take to kill the Gunsmith,” Lee said. “I guess we’re just along to take care of the kid.”

  Hector watched as Clint Adams and Roscoe Bookbinder began to ride off.

  “That suits me,” he said.

  Zack and Heston watched as Randle and the others mounted up.

  “Do we really need all of them?” Heston asked his cousin.

  “Well,” Zack said, “I wasn’t all that sure you’d show up, Darb.”

  Both of them were mounted, waiting for the others. Heston looked at Zack.

  “I wasn’t sure I’d come either.”

  “So, if you didn’t, I figured I needed some numbers n my side.”

  “If they get in the way—”

  “If they get in the way, we’ll get rid of them,” Zack said.

  “Just remember,” Heston said, “Clint Adams is mine.”

  “Ours, Cousin,” Zack said. “Clint Adams is ours. You’re not the one he made a fool of.”

  “Okay,” Heston said, “ours.”

  He ignored the others, turned his horse, and rode out of Ellsworth.

  TWENTY-THREE

  They camped that night, and over coffee and beans Clint told Roscoe, “We’re being trailed.”

  “You know for a fact?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “I can feel them.”

  “You ain’t seen ’em?”

  “Not yet.”

  “But you can feel them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that some kinda magic?”

  Clint laughed.

  “Maybe it is,” he said. “It’s a . . . it’s just a sense you acquire after years on the trail.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “I think we should ask them what they want.”

  “I thought you said when somebody was followin’ you it was because they wanna take a shot at you?”

  “Well, they haven’t,” Clint said, “and they’ve had their chances. So it’s something else.”

  “And the only way to find out . . .”

  “. . . is to ask them.”

  “Now?”

  “No,” Clint said. “I don’t want to wander around out there looking for their camp—especially if they’re running another cold one. No, we’ll make contact with them tomorrow.”

  Roscoe took out one of his guns and said, “And then we’ll take care of ’em, right?”

  “We’re going to talk to them and see what they want,” Clint said.

  “And then we’ll kill ’em?”

  “Bookbinder, don’t be in such a hurry to kill your first man,” Clint said.

  Roscoe holstered his gun, picked up his beans, and asked, “Who says it would be my first?”

  “I told you before not to lie to me, Bookbinder,” Clint said. “You’re no killer. You may yet become one if I fail in what I’m trying to do, but you’re not one now.”

  Roscoe hung his head and said nothing.

  “Hey,” Clint said, “not having killed a man yet is nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “You must think I’m just a stupid kid,” Roscoe said glumly.

  “I think you were probably on your way to becoming a stupid man,” Clint said.

  “And now?”

  “And now, since you met me, that’s not going to happen, is it?”

  Sitting in their cold camp, a sullen Lee was cleaning his rifle.

  “You know, I’m pretty good with this thing,” he told Hector.

  “I am sure you are.”

  “What about you?”

  Hector looked at Lee. “What do you mean?”

  “Can you shoot? With a rifle?”

  “I am . . . competent.”

  Lee sat up straight and balanced his rifle on his knees.

  “We could take him tomorrow,” Lee said. “Before Zack, Heston, and the rest ever catch up to us.”

  “They will catch up tomorrow,” Hector said. “Probably tomorrow afternoon. If we kill Adams, then we will be dead by tomorrow night.”

  “I’m not afraid of Heston,” Lee said, “and I sure as hell ain’t afraid of Zack. He’s only my partner, he ain’t my boss.”

  Hector didn’t say anything.

  “If you’re afraid of Darby Heston, that’s your problem,” Lee muttered, sittin
g back.

  “I am a very careful man, my friend,” Hector said. “That is why I am sixty years old and still alive.”

  “Damn!” Lee said. “You’re sixty? I thought you was about forty. You look good for your age.”

  “It is because I have lived such a careful life,” Hector pointed out. “I do not bother sleeping snakes, amigo.”

  “You sayin’ Heston’s a sleepin’ snake?”

  “He is a killer,” Hector said. “He is much worse than a snake.”

  “Yeah, well . . .”

  “You do what you want tomorrow,” Hector said. “I will do nothing to stop you.”

  “Yeah, well . . . ,” Lee said again. “Maybe I’ll just . . . wait.”

  Hector smiled to himself, unseen in the darkness, and said, “That sounds like a wise course of action.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  The next morning as they were saddling their horses, Roscoe asked, “How are we gonna do this?”

  “We’ll have to wait for a likely spot,” Clint said.

  “How do we find it?”

  Clint mounted up and said, “I’ll know it when I see it, kid. Let’s go.”

  As Hector and Lee broke their cold camp, the Mexican asked. “Still going to wait?”

  “Yeah,” Lee said, “I thought about what you said about the sleeping snake.”

  In fact, Lee’s whole attitude toward the Mexican had changed since he’d found out the man’s age. Lee had always given credence to the advice of older men. His father was gone, he had no family, and Zack was his same age. He figured maybe Hector knew best in this case.

  “Let’s get moving, then,” Hector said.

  “One cold camp, and that’s it,” Heston said.

  “The cold camp would be Lee and Hector,” Zack said.

  Heston pointed down at the town of Ely.

  “That means Adams and the kid went to town,” he said. “Probably for supplies.”

  “Maybe they’re still there,” Randle suggested.

  Both Zack and Heston looked at him, but it was Zack who spoke.

  “Look at that town,” he said. “There’s no hotel there.”

  “There’s a whorehouse,” Stride said. “I know, I been there.”