Slocum 306: Slocum and the Rebel Yell

“I want to help, no matter what you’ve got in mind,” Andrew Tremaine said. “I can’t sit around the fort on my ass and do nothing. Not when Catherine’s being held, not when Major Bucks wants me court-martialed, not when—”

“What are you going to do?” Tremaine asked. They drew rein just outside the main gate leading into the Fort Gibson stockade. He obviously did not want to complete the ride and face whatever demons cavorted inside the post.

“Do my damnedest to get Catherine back,” Slocum said. “Let me keep the horses. I need to ride, and ride fast.” He had two spares to swap off as one horse tired. With all three horses, Slocum thought, he could ride a hundred miles in a day. While that was more than necessary, he wanted to be certain. There was also a chance Catherine might be riding with him, should he succeed.

“Even if Bucks decides to throw me in the lockup?” Slocum knew it might be worse than that. There were stocks for enlisted men. Major Bucks might be angry enough to put an officer in them out in the hot sun, too.

Tremaine grunted, tossed the reins of his spare horse to Slocum, then rode disconsolately into the fort. Slocum wasted no time. Word spread rapidly in any Army post; within a few minutes Bucks would know his wayward officer had returned. Slocum didn’t want the major sending out a patrol to retrieve the horses.

Wheeling about, Slocum set off at a decent pace until his horse began to tire. He took a few minutes to change mounts, grab some food and take a long draught from his canteen before continuing. Slocum had thought hard all the way back to Fort Gibson about the way to approach Zoe Hawthorne, and never quite came up with a plan that worked. Her brother would have been the perfect messenger for the ransom demand and exchange of Eustace Norquist for Catherine, but Grew had died in the shoot-out. He wished he could have shared his thoughts with Tremaine, but the captain would have flown off the handle and ruined everything. Slocum recognized the delicacy of dealing with the likes of Zoe Hawthorne, and Tremaine considered only the return of his beloved Catherine.

Slocum still worried about Grew’s untimely death. The outlaw’s death had cost him and Tremaine more than it had the General’s forces. Grew was a hothead and would never have held up in the heat of battle with bullets sailing all around, but to be the courier carrying terms of prisoner exchange he would have been perfect. He would have feared for his life and never considered double-crossing Slocum and Tremaine. But a valuable, if unwilling, pawn had been removed from the game by a single shot to the back of his head.

The sun began dipping low on the prairie behind him as Slocum once more found the General’s campsite. He had spent too much of the day shuttling back and forth to this area, but he had wanted to be certain Tremaine was safely back inside Fort Gibson, where he wasn’t likely to ask questions or muddle what Slocum had to do.

Zoe’s tent was where it had been before, when Slocum had spent the night with her. Now the sentries walking their circuit some distance off afforded a chance for entry to her quarters, no longer stood stationary guard outside. Slocum smiled wanly. They had been posted outside Zoe’s tent to keep him in line. He felt a bit pleased that so many had been posted, but their orders had been different last night.

Slocum got out the standard-issue military hobbles for the horses and secured them, then sat and watched as the sun hid behind the horizon. Twilight washed through the camp, replaced soon enough by inky night. Slocum saw Zoe return to her tent around ten o’clock, but kept watch a spell longer.

He was glad he did. Guards walking in pairs checked her tent every few minutes until eleven, when the lantern inside was turned down, leaving only a ghostly flickering as the red-haired woman moved about, preparing for bed. Slocum appreciated the sight and remembered the reality, then waited until the midnight patrol had marched past before leaving his vantage and going to the woman’s tent.

Without any hesitation, he slipped past the tent flap, only to be blinded by the lantern as it was turned up full. Slocum squinted as he held up his left hand to block the glare, but he saw the glint of light off the S&W in Zoe’s firm grip.

“That’s refreshing.” Zoe turned down the light. “It wouldn’t be right to disturb those poor men out walking their posts.” She motioned with her six-shooter for him to sit at the foot of her cot.

“You were too busy appreciating my other . . . qualities.” Zoe let the blanket she held up with her left hand fall. She was naked to the waist. Slocum reckoned the rest of her was probably also bare of clothing; it was a hot night.

“Shot in the back,” Zoe said without any rancor. “Grew was never much of a gunslinger. He refused to practice, and his draw was ever so slow.” She scooted around and got her long, bare legs swung out and dangling over the edge of the cot.

Slocum found it hard not to let his eyes slip along the sleek white legs toward the rusty-colored bush nestled between them. Zoe made no effort to hide her nakedness, nor had Slocum expected her to. He had told Tremaine this wouldn’t be easy, but Slocum had not realized just how difficult it would be.

“You don’t have anything to bargain with,” Zoe said. “My father was rescued. It was something of a surprise that Rafe was clever enough to pluck the General from your grasp, but he did.”

“Let’s cut through the undergrowth. You want Tremaine to do something in exchange for Catherine. What is it? He’s going to be court-martialed and unable to do anything for you if you wait too long.”

“Perhaps we don’t want him in the field at all. The General might want your precious captain of artillery in the jailhouse where he can’t interfere.”

“My, he does love her, doesn’t he? And what drives you, John? Not lust,” she said, swinging her legs about, crossing them, then opening them again. “Not entirely. Why, I do believe it’s loyalty. You’re doing this because Tremaine is your friend and you let him down.”

“You let Grew and the rest of his ruffians kidnap Catherine from under your nose. Perhaps what happened to the bridesmaids troubles you too? You weren’t intimately involved with any of them, were you, John? No, I don’t think so. But their deaths offend your honor.”

“We need more soldiers,” Zoe said, leaning forward. She still held the six-gun, but it was no longer aimed at Slocum’s chest. “Get Tremaine to recruit us thirty more soldiers, men who will put on CSA uniforms and fight for a few days.”

“You told me he would desert, that he would do anything to save his lovely Catherine. His commanders need never know, if he is clever about whom he asks to join the General’s army.”

“Who needs trust? This is a business deal, John. Grew exceeded his orders when he did what he did at the Calderon house. He’s gone now. There’s only me. And you.”

“You know what Tremaine has to do. There’s something you have to do, also,” Zoe said, her eyes half-closed. “Do I need to tell you what it is?”

Slocum took the six-shooter from her unresisting fingers and laid it on the small table next to the lantern. As he bent over to shut off the light, Zoe reached out and began working on his buttons, on his gun belt, working feverishly to get him as naked as she was.

Slocum didn’t resist. He had known all along this would be the price for getting Catherine back. His father had always told him never to lie down with dogs unless he wanted fleas, but Zoe had a way about her. An evil way, but not one Slocum wanted to resist. Much.

She crushed herself against him and returned the kiss with a fervor equal to his. Slocum’s tongue darted out and lightly brushed her lips and then met hers, and their tongues rolled over and over in an erotic wrestling match. By the time they sank to the cot, both of them were panting.

Slocum’s hands roved over the woman’s sleek, sweat-slippery body. He stroked across her back and then cupped a taut, round buttock. He squeezed down hard and moved her around where they could lie side by side.

He moved from her hindquarters to the luscious mounds of her breasts. The snowy white cones were tipped in cherry red nipples, now hard with lust. Slocum scooted down a little, gripped the left boob and applied his lips to the fleshy pebble. As he sucked harder and harder, Zoe arched her back and tried to cram even more of her breast into his mouth.

He shoved his tongue down forcefully, pressing the hard red button into the softer flesh beneath. Then he released it, and it sprang back resiliently. Slocum began sliding down the slope while keeping his fingers tight around the very tip. Blood pulsed into the nipple with every beat of her heart, but Slocum wasn’t paying much attention. He skied down the snowy slope to the deep valley, kissed and licked around her trembling flesh, then began spiraling wetly up the other side. When he reached the delightful summit, he lavished the same oral attention on it that he had on the other.

Zoe thrashed about as her passion grew. Her long legs parted, then curled around Slocum’s thigh. She began rocking back and forth, rubbing her crotch against his leg to stimulate herself even more.

Every time she moved, her leg brushed against Slocum’s hardness. The touch of her perfect flesh against him caused his manhood to jerk and harden to the point where it was almost painful.

Then Slocum grunted. Zoe had felt what effect she had on him, and reached down to grip his fleshy stalk. Her fingers curled about his length and began moving in imitation of what they both wanted to do elsewhere.

Slocum continued to bestow kisses and light, teasing touches with the tip of his tongue to her sensitive breasts, while the woman’s hand moved along his body. Slocum tried to move lower, to get his mouth closer to the furred triangle hidden between Zoe’s legs, but she refused to release him. He could get down only to the area just below her breasts.

“No, no, your mouth is delightful, but I want more. I want this!” she said in a sex-husky voice. There was no mistaking what the red-haired woman wanted from him.

Slocum reached down, stroked along the satiny inner thigh and then pushed her legs apart. There was a dampness remaining on his leg where she had rubbed herself like a feline. His hand pressed down on her, and then his finger snaked into her.

“Oh!” As the single syllable escaped Zoe’s ruby lips, she pressed her shoulders down on the creaking cot, lifted her rump and began grinding herself against his hand. He had robbed her of all words; the continued movement of his finger stirring about in her most private region had reduced her to nothing but small trapped animal noises. But they were more of a purr than a complaint. Of her own accord, those fine alabaster legs opened for him.

Zoe had continued stroking up and down his steely length, threatening to turn it to liquid at any instant. Slocum felt the heat burning deep in his loins. He was ready. And he thought Zoe was too. Rolling over, he positioned himself between her thighs. Her heels rose higher and then circled his waist. She locked her ankles behind him to be certain he didn’t stop, didn’t leave.

Slocum looked down into the woman’s face and saw a mask of stark pleasure there. He moved forward inexorably, the tip of his shaft brushing away her turgid lips and then entering her slowly. The pleasure on Zoe’s face increased. She began tossing her head from side to side, giving her face an angelic halo of red hair.

But Slocum knew she was no angel. She was a devil. And she was capable of delivering what no angel could. He felt her tightness squeeze down around his hidden length and knew there was no turning back.

Slocum rocked back slightly and ran his hands down her heaving sides. His fingers traced over her ribs, momentarily rose to flick both nipples and then slid under her body to cup her buttocks. Gripping down again, as if he were kneading lumps of sexy white dough, he began lifting her body to meet his.

“I can’t take this, I can’t, oh, no, yes, move, John. Don’t torment me!” She bit her lower lip and reached out, her fingers clawing at his upper arms. Her desires were so great, Slocum wasn’t sure she knew what she was doing.

Tiny scratches turned to bloody grooves on his arms, spurring him to slide forward and bury himself fully. He used his grip on her derriere to move her the way he wanted. He rotated his hips in one direction and turned her the opposite way. The added friction as he moved within her built the spark of desire into a raging forest fire that could not be denied.

Slocum began slipping in and out of her moist female channel until he felt as if he were caught in a tornado, being swirled higher and higher into the sky and twisted every which way but loose. In the far distance he heard Zoe cry out shrilly in carnal release. He felt her body tense and clutch at him, her nails rake his back, her crotch rise up to demand more. Past the point of no return, he kept up the steady rhythm of his loving until he lost all control. Blood roaring in his ears, every nerve in his loins firing a signal of pure pleasure, he slammed harder and harder into the woman’s willing body.

She cried out again, and this time Slocum joined her in carnal release. Locked together at the groin, they struggled and strove and then felt the lethargy of the aftermath. Slocum sank beside Zoe. She hiked a leg over his hip and snuggled closer.

She buried her face in his shoulder and was soon asleep. Slocum remained awake, his mind working. There was no way he could kidnap Zoe and spirit her away from the camp to trade for Catherine. Something told him he would never be able to weasel the kidnapped woman’s location from Zoe either. For all her softness and womanly curves, there was a core of tempered steel within her.

He moved a little on the cot and reached to where he had laid her six-shooter. Making sure she was still asleep, he opened the S&W American’s breaktop and looked at the loads. One round had been fired. Just one.

As quietly as he could, Slocum snapped the pistol back and put it onto the low table. Then he placed his hand on the bare back of the peacefully sleeping woman.