12

A sharp-eyed citizen spotted the posse a ways off and word spread rapidly. By the time they rode in, a crowd had gathered. The sight of Amanda Brenner provoked cheers and clapping.

Amanda was on the deputy’s mount. The marshal had Deputy Wilkins ride double with Norman, neither of whom seemed to like the idea much.

“Why can’t she ride double with me?” Wilkins had protested.

“It wouldn’t be proper,” Coltraine said.

“But I’d never take liberties,” Wilkins assured him. “When it comes to females, I’m plumb harmless.”

“You’re harmless all around,” Coltraine said, “and the answer is still no.”

Fargo managed to fall behind the rest of the posse and swung wide of the crowd. He needed a drink or three and then he would be on his way.

Harvey the bartender wasn’t happy to see him. “No trouble this time, you hear me?” he warned, and touched his bandaged ear. “The doc had to give me three stitches, damn you.”

“That many?” Fargo said.

“I mean it. I should refuse to serve you, you walloping me with that bottle like you did.”

“Speaking of which,” Fargo said, and snapped his fingers at the long shelf lined with liquor. “Monongahela.”

Harvey hesitated, as if inclined to refuse. “No hard feelings about earlier?”

“About you lying to the marshal and me ending up in jail?” Fargo shook his head. He’d changed his mind about walloping him again. “I’d say your ear makes us even.”

“More than,” Harvey grumped, and selected a bottle. “To show I don’t hold a grudge, the bottle is on the house.”

“If I hit you on the other ear do I get two?”

“Hardy-har-har,” Harvey said.

Fargo took the bottle to a corner table and tiredly sank into a chair. Sunset was an hour off. Plenty of time for him to wash down the dust and put a few miles between him and the town. He’d rather bed down under the stars, anyway. Sleeping with a roof over his head never did seem entirely natural.

Settling back, he chugged and sighed with contentment. “Life doesn’t get any better than this,” he said to himself.

“That’s what you think, handsome. You haven’t met me yet.”

Fargo looked up.

She was on the plump side with a well-rounded bosom and thick lips that curled in a perpetual pucker. Her eyes were evergreen, her hair a russet shade that hung past her shoulders, curling at the tips. Her dress appeared to have been painted on, and when she bent, her breasts threatened to bust free. “I’m Lucretia. I work here nights.”

“Marshal Coltraine allows it?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Lucretia said. “He’s male, isn’t he?” She grinned and winked. “So long as I don’t rile the married ladies into wanting to ride me out on a rail, he lets me be.”

Fargo pushed a chair out with his boot. “Have a seat.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Lucretia deposited herself like a queen settling onto a throne. “I hear you went out with the posse today. The robbery and rescuing that girl are all everyone is talking about.”

“There wasn’t much to the rescue.”

“Don’t be modest. There’s talk that you were taken prisoner and got away. That makes you a hero to some.”

“I got caught because I was careless,” Fargo said.

“Even so. Do you have any idea how many people the Cotton Gang has sent into the hereafter? Your guardian angel must have been watching over you.”

“My what?”

“You know. Like in the Bible. Angels that watch over us and protect us. Everybody has one.”

This was a new one on Fargo. He thought of all the scrapes he’d been in, thought of all the times hostiles or hard cases had tried to turn him into worm food. “If I do, mine needs more practice. It doesn’t guard me against much.”

“Maybe it does and you don’t know it.”

“The only guardian I need is this,” Fargo said, and patted his Colt.

“Well, enough about angels,” Lucretia said. Leaning on her elbows, she batted her long eyelashes. “See anything you like?”

“I do have a sudden hankering for watermelons,” Fargo said.

Lucretia laughed merrily. “I wonder why that should be.” She jiggled hers and said, “Me, I have a craving for buckskin. Are you interested?”

“What was it you said about the marshal?” Fargo quipped. “Now I remember. Something about him being male.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Now or later?” Fargo asked. He thought maybe she’d have to wait until she got off work.

“Now is fine. I got here early and have a whole hour.” She ran a fingernail across her left breast. “Is that enough time or would you rather spend half the night at it?”

“My place or yours?”

“You have a place?” Lucretia said.

“The prairie.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Not out in the open, thank you very much. Besides, the prairie has bugs and ticks and snakes. Give me a comfortable bed and privacy.”

“Is that bed far?”

“It is not,” Lucretia said. “In five minutes you can be sucking on watermelons to your heart’s content.” She rose and playfully crooked a finger. “Follow me if you are up to it.”

“I’ll show you up,” Fargo said.

Her room was on the second floor of a boardinghouse. The furnishings were simple and the bed sagged in the middle from a lot of use.

Lucretia no sooner closed the door behind them than she fastened herself to Fargo and pressed those luscious lips of hers to his. Hers were incredibly soft. Kissing them was akin to sinking into a cloud of perfume and pleasure.

Fargo cupped a breast and Lucretia groaned. He pinched a nipple and she ground herself against his pole.

“More of that, please,” she husked. “I like to build up to it.”

So did Fargo. Some men preferred to get it over with and go. Not him. Half the fun was getting there.

Lucretia removed his hat and tossed it onto a small table and ran her fingers through his hair. She kissed his ear and licked his neck and reached behind him to pull him against her.

Fargo returned the favor. He sucked on her tongue. He ran his hands over her breasts. He cupped her bottom and dug his fingernails in hard enough to elicit a gasp. She began to strip and he helped with a row of tiny buttons at the back. She had nothing on under her dress. Set free, her pendulous breasts hung halfway to her waist. Her hips flared wide above smooth thighs, the junction marked by a triangle thatch.

“Like what you see?”

Fargo grunted.

Lucretia tugged at his shirt and together they got it off.

“Look at all these muscles,” Lucretia said.

“There’s one between my legs, too.”

Chuckling, Lucretia placed her hand on his pole. “Oh my. If it gets any higher, we could put a flag on it.”

Now it was Fargo who chuckled. Moving her toward the bed, he eased her onto her back and sat to remove his spurs.

One leg crooked and seductively swaying, Lucretia placed the tip of a painted nail on his shoulder blade and from there ran it down his spine. “I can’t wait to have you inside of me.”

“Works out nice,” Fargo said, “since I can’t wait to be in you.”

“You make me so hungry I could scream.”

“You’re thinking of food at a time like this?” Fargo said, knowing perfectly well what she meant.

“Silly goose,” Lucretia teased. “I’m hungry for you. For that redwood of yours.”

Fargo dropped his spurs to the floor and unhitched his gun belt and turned. “Then let’s get to it.”