“Keep that fire low,” Clint told Terry. “We don’t want the light to be seen.”
“I told you,” she said, “my father would never come here.”
“Just to be on the safe side.”
“Why don’t we cover the windows?” she asked.
“With what?”
“Good point.”
They had eaten and finished the coffee. The only reason to keep the fire at all was a little warmth.
“Why don’t we just put it out and depend on the blankets?” she suggested.
“Would you be warm enough?”
She smiled and said, “If we were sharing the same blanket, yes.”
“Well,” he said, “that is an idea.”
He stomped out the fire, and then they wrapped themselves together in one blanket.
When she started moving her hands around beneath the blanket he said, “Behave yourself.”
“Why?”
“Because this isn’t the time or the place,” he said. “Besides, you’re too young.”
“That didn’t seem to bother you on the trail.”
“I didn’t know how young you were, then.”
“I’m twenty-one, Clint,” she said. “I’m a woman.” She kissed his neck, slid her hand inside his shirt.
“Terry …”
“Come on, Clint,” she said, her breath hot in his ear. “What else do we have to do?”
She undid the buttons on her shirt and pulled his hand inside. He found her nipple, squeezed it with his thumb and forefinger. She caught her breath.
She was right. What else did they have to do?
He kissed her, her mouth eager, her tongue active, her hands undoing his shirt and his belt. He slipped off his gunbelt, set it on the floor close by.
They unwrapped themselves from the blanket, instead spread it on the floor, then undressed each other.
“Wait,” she said, when he reached for her. She got on her hands and knees, presented her smooth butt to him and said, “Like this.”
“Oh,” he said, “you’re a bad girl.”
“I’ve heard about it,” she said, “but I’ve never done it. I want to do it with you.”
“For this you need to be wet,” he said, reaching between her thighs. She was wet, but as he slid his fingers into her vagina, she became even more so. He wet his fingers thoroughly, causing her to gasp, then spread the cheek of her ass and wet her anus as much as he could. When he slid his middle finger into her she tensed.
“You have to relax,” he said. “You have to be very relaxed.”
“I – I can’t,” she said.
“You said you wanted it.”
“I do,” she said. “I don’t mean – what I mean is I’m too excited to relax.”
He used his hand on her again, getting it wet and slick from her pussy, then applying it to her tender butthole.
“Try,” he said.
He positioned himself behind her, pressed the head of his cock to her slick anus, and pushed slowly.
“Oh,” she said, “oh … oh … yesssss …”
Later she snuggled up against him for more warmth.
“Do you have a plan, yet?”
“Your father will have his ranch too well guarded,” Clint said. “We’ve got to get him away from there.”
“How?”
He closed his eyes and said, “I’ll think about that tomorrow.”
Dexter Heath and Pete Stiller collected four more of their compadres and rode out the next morning. Armed with information from Vance Restin—possibly information he, himself, didn’t know he had – Heath had an idea where they might find Clint Adams and the girl.
“You want Adams dead,” Heath said, that morning before riding out. “And the girl?”
“There’s a bonus if you get both of them.”
Restin was a cold one, paying to have his own daughter killed, but that didn’t concern Heath very much.
“What makes you think they’re gonna be out here?” Ron Finn asked.
“Something the old man said,” Heath replied. “About a house the girl was born in.” If Adams wanted to hide out, and stay away from town, he’d need help, since he didn’t know the area. The girl, on the other hand, did.
“And if they ain’t there?”
“I’ll deal with that if it happens,” Heath said. “We know the Gunsmith can’t stay hidden in town. I bet the girl takes him to this house.”
“Sounds good to me,” Stiller said.
Finn shrugged, and the other three men looked unco0ncerned. They were getting paid, that’s all they cared about.
Clint woke to the sound of horses.
“Terry!” he said. “Wake up!”
“What is it?” She took her head off his shoulder, looked up at him.
“Get up!” he said. “Riders.”
They both got to their feet. Clint grabbed his rifle and held it out to the girl.
“Take this!”
“Clint – how’d they find us?”
“Somebody got smart,” he said, “that’s all. Take that window.”
They each went to a window on either side of the front door. Clint looked out in time to see six well-armed riders appear.
“Oh God,” she said, “there’s six of them.”
“Yeah,” he said, “more gunmen hired by your father.”
“Clint, I’m so sorry,” she said. “Hiding here wasn’t such a good idea, after all.”
“It’s not your fault,” he said. “I’m sure you were right about your father. He wouldn’t come here, but one of these men figured it out.”
“Do you know them?”
“I know everyone one them,” he said, “without knowing any of their names.”
“Maybe they won’t know we’re here,” she said, her tone hopeful.
“The horses are out back,” he said. “They know.” He should have brought the horses inside, but it was too late for recriminations.
“What do we do?” she asked. “Do we shoot?”
“No,” Clint said, “we have to let them make the first move. That means we just wait.”