Slocum 373

They awoke naked and entwined in each other’s arms. Slocum’s sore lips were glued on her mouth as he kissed her hard. He’d found he was addicted to this woman’s body. Kissing, squeezing, and screwing her had gone on and on all night until his brain was swirling and he felt drunk. Then he happened to see his blue roan gelding in the first light looking off at something in the east.

He dug his field glasses out of his saddlebags and searched the eastern horizon. Standing stark naked with the soft early morning wind sweeping his bare skin, he saw for an instant a lopsided stovepipe hat, and then feathers on the head of the next rider. Four bucks were either trailing them or had stumbled onto them. Kelso was not the one wearing that hat—this one had no beard.

She stood beside him as if waiting for him to speak. The first lances of golden sunshine were on her pear-shaped breasts. Damn Comanche anyway. They were disturbing his Eden. He’d better get dressed and serious.

“Comanche are out there. Maybe three or four young bucks.” He held up his fingers. For the first time, he thought she’d nodded. But her eyes were still awfully blank.

“We better get our clothes on and packed. They may have to work up courage to charge us. We need to be the hell out of here by then.”

After they dressed, she tracked along beside him, and on seeing him saddling the packhorse, she did the same to his roan. When the horses were ready at last, she bellied up on hers, ready to go with a string in the horse’s mouth for a rein. Slocum pointed northwest. Their next water would be the Pecos River, and it was a day and a half away.

He took a wary look over his shoulder, and saw no sign of the bucks. But his gut told him they were out there, and would be until they had her back and he was dead, or until those braves were dead themselves. A matter of who survived. She did remarkably well guiding the bay horse, and all Slocum had to do was point and she led the way. Her silence continued to bother him.

She could scream. But maybe she’d at last acknowledged with a nod something he’d asked her to do. He wasn’t sure as they pushed their ponies northward exactly what he’d said. But she had answered him with a nod. He looked into the glaring sun coming up over the horizon, and thought about their hours spent making love in his bedroll.

Most white women would have put on something when they joined him looking through the field glasses. But being naked never bothered her. A lot of women he knew would have even dressed in the bed with him after they finished having sex. Not her. She became drunk on the excitement, and even afterward she enjoyed his attention in a relaxed, leisurely fashion. If she’d ever had a man before her kidnapping, he must really miss her every night when he climbed into his empty bed.

At noon, he was taking an old buffalo track beside a dry wash and keeping an eye on the horizon to the east. By trotting their horses, they’d made good time, but he knew for certain that they were not outdistancing the young bucks. If they would only expose themselves, he’d figure out a way to stop them. You needed to see your enemies to get a bead on them.

Obviously, these bucks knew that, too, and were staying out of sight. Besides, three ponies were no problem to follow, especially in this dry land. Nothing he could do about that. All he wanted was a fair chance to beat them in combat. With even odds, he could whip four young untried braves. They’d make enough mistakes from a lack of experience, and their brief hesitation would give him the edge in a fight.

Twice, he saw some fluttering in the brush at a distance. It was them. Though he only saw a dull flash of sun on a gun barrel or the turn of a horse’s rump. There was someone there. And the infrequent presence of anyone in this land made the possibility strong that it was his war party.

Later that afternoon, a storm bank began to build off in the northwest. Dark, towering, ominous-looking clouds rose taller with the warming temperature. A strong spring thunderstorm was in the offing, and they were headed into it. It might be the best haven available in this brushy land. He sent a message to the powers above to bring it on—if they would.

He wanted to tell her he was doing all he could to avoid braves. Not because he was afraid of them, but because he didn’t want her to fall into their hands again if he failed to defend her well enough. No use talking. She didn’t talk back. That still bothered him. He reined the roan up and listened. He could hear the storm rumbling like a growling stomach. A few small wrens flitted nearby. Should he leave the buffalo road?

Storms like the one gathering up could push giant walls of water down through the land. In minutes, a trickle could become a flood. Higher ground was on a ridge east or west of where they rode. If the braves were skirting him on the east, then a flood might separate them. But he’d only seen occasional signs they might be there.

It was mid-afternoon and he shared some more jerky with her. They stopped only long enough to empty their bladders beside their animals, and then moved on. His Spencer repeating rifle was loaded to the gate with a tube of .50-caliber rounds. He had more ammo for the rifle. In the waist holster, his .44 Navy Colt cap-and-ball was loaded with five shots, with none under the hammer. He also carried a loaded .30-caliber small Colt in his right boot. That revolver was larger than a derringer, but much more effective than one.

That gave him lots of firepower. He could smell the rain coming. There really wasn’t a good place to be. Not enough cover or anyplace to den up. He better make a decision, good or bad.

“Ride that way,” he shouted as thunder crashed overhead. They’d be west of this dry draw and maybe separated from the war party. Penny-size hail began to pelt them. He undid a slicker and the large piece of canvas he’d used for a shade. Riding in close, he told her to put on the slicker, then deciding they’d gone as far as they needed to go, he slipped off the roan and began hobbling the horses as quickly as he could. Then, using the tarp for cover, he looked for her.

She quickly crowded in close as the tempo of the hail increased, drumming on his felt hat and shoulders under the tarp. The roar and force of the storm grew stronger, and he crouched down with her to get out of the north wind. Rain followed in heavy sheets and cut out light and vision. It was dark as night and the precipitation increased until it was hard to even breathe. He hugged her under the canvas that they held down on top of them, and she nodded her approval.

His boots were soaked and his hat must have weighed a ton. Water ran everywhere. With this much rain, the dry washes would soon be raging muddy rivers. Lightning illuminated their small world in flashes. Then the thunder cracked like a giant whip on top of them and made the ground under their soles shake.

When at last the storm waned, a low gray sky remained overhead. The temperature began to drop. He unhobbled the horses and they rode on. If the temperature kept falling, it would be snowing before dark. A late spring norther was rolling in, and there wasn’t enough fuel in this land to build a good-sized bonfire. Sure would be pure hell to escape the damn Indians and then freeze to death in a spring snow-storm.

He didn’t miss the mark by much. Soon, large flakes began to fall. He motioned for her to go on. In a few hours, the sun squeezed out and he made a rough camp in over a foot of snow.

Simply in case, he left the horses saddled. He knew they had lots of hard riding still to get off this caprock and find water and fuel. Those worthless bucks trailing them around, trying to prove they were men, should have stayed home in their tepees. Then he’d still be back there making tender love, not freezing his ass off out in the middle of nowhere.

He had some grain for the horses that he put in nose bags for them. He and the woman ate dry cheese and crackers. The tough jerky had made his teeth sore from gnawing on it all day. This had turned into more of a fix than he had ever imagined. They covered up the panniers and saddle, then kicked the snow away to put the bedroll down They unrolled the ground cloth and then put the larger canvas over the top. Finally, he put the rifle under the cover with them.

“This will have to do,” he said to her as darkness settled in for the night and the snow continued to fall. So they didn’t freeze to death, she was curled up in a ball against him.

Then, as if she couldn’t stand it any longer, she rolled over and undid his pants. He raised up to let her shove them off his hips. Then her fingers began to knead his manhood and she raised up to kiss him.