Slocum and the Thunderbird (13 page)

Slocum grunted. Her hands worked around his waist, then roved lower. She began kneading his crotch like a lump of dough. And like bread dough, something was rising. Pulling his hips back into her body let her squeeze down even more.

“This is kinda dangerous,” Slocum said, even as he responded to her pressing, dancing fingers. “He might hear.”

“He might, but I want you to know how serious I am about . . . enlisting your aid.” Erika dropped to her knees and turned him around. “I want to seal the deal.”

She popped open the buttons on his fly and let his trapped manhood leap out free and proud.

“Oh my, I certainly chose a real champion. You're hung like a stallion.”

The rest of her words became mumbled as her lips engulfed his organ. She moved forward an inch and took him more fully into her mouth. Cheeks going hollow with suction, she ran her tongue all over the bulbous tip until Slocum felt as if he would explode. He laced his fingers in her long, coppery hair and pushed her back. She reluctantly followed his guidance. The instant he let up the pressure, she dived back, taking even more of him into her mouth.

The tip of his shaft bounced off her cheek, then she cradled it in her tongue. She made gobbling sounds and moved even closer to take him farther down her throat. The touch of her teeth along with the rippling movement of her tongue almost caused Slocum to get off. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the danger Erika posed. A madman worked on his deadly schemes only a couple yards down the hall. If he heard anything, he would come boiling out.

Mackenzie might use his fake thunderbird talons or call his henchmen. It had sounded like a small army had joined him in the lobby.

“Umm, you're a tasty one,” Erika said. Her tongue made a quick swipe around the very tip of his manhood, then teased the sensitive cleft just beneath the head.

“I have others to get out of town,” Slocum said. “I promised them.”

“You don't have to promise me—unless you want more of what I offer. The first time I set eyes on you, I knew you were different. You're a gentleman. You're the kind who keeps his word.”

Slocum leaned back against the plank, then jerked away, remembering the panel was loose. This rammed him deeper into the woman's mouth. She took him full length, held him erotically, then backed off, panting. She looked up, her emerald eyes glowing in the faint light.

He tried to concentrate on other things. The hidden room was hardly wide enough for him to stand without brushing his shoulders on either wall, but it ran a good fifteen feet back from the false wall. It had to be some kind of building mistake that had been walled over because nobody cared.

“You
will
get me out of here and protect me from him? It's all right if you kill him.”

“I'll do that for nothing,” Slocum said, remembering the murders he knew Mackenzie had committed.

“I'll help you get the others out. I can pay my way,” she said before working down the length of his fleshy spike and teasing the hairy balls dangling below.

Slocum was reaching the breaking point. Erika's mouth knew all the right places to touch, her lips stimulated him wildly, and the occasional snakelike flick of her tongue pushed him to the edge of his endurance.

He stepped forward, forcing her to sit on her haunches, then she continued stretching out in the narrow room until she lay on her back. She lifted her ass off the floor and bunched her skirt around her waist. Even in the dim light Slocum saw paradise. Dropping his gun belt to get it out of the way, he joined her on the floor. Her knees came up. She grabbed them with her hands and spread herself wantonly.

Slocum inched forward until the tip of his column brushed her soft, moist sex lips. He positioned himself and thrust forward with a smooth, even movement that caused her to cry out. It took all his willpower to stifle his own outcry. He found himself engulfed by her again, this time a yielding sheath of female flesh. Warmth and wetness surrounded him as he paused, buried balls deep.

“I need you,” she said. “Do it, do it,” she urged. To emphasize her desire, she tensed her inner muscles and clamped down all around him. It felt as if a hand in a velvet glove milked him. “Now!”

Blood pounded in his ears, and he hardly heard her cries. He drew back, then shoved forward with enough power to lift her off the dusty floor. At first his movement was ragged, then he found the ages-old rhythm of a man loving a woman. But this, too, changed as white-hot tides rose within his loins. His stroking turned ragged again, desperate, and then he lost control entirely.

He spilled his seed as she moaned out her own pleasure. All too soon he began to melt within her hot core.

Slocum sat back and looked at her. Her eyes danced and the smile on her face was positively wicked.

“I could get to like that,” she said. “A lot.”

“Too bad we had to meet like this,” Slocum said.

Erika sat up and moved her skirts around. Legs crossed, she moved close so her face was only inches from his.

“We ought to keep the noise down,” she said. “It must be close to daylight and his guards will be going out to their posts.”

“He had double the usual crew out at the mine and mercury-gold amalgam plant.”

“Why? Something must be wrong.”

“He knew I was coming back for the Watsons.”

“That their names?”

“And Rawhide Rawlins. You know him?”

“Doesn't ring a bell. Describe him.”

Slocum did and finished with, “He's probably paid for a couple months here. He had a passel of money.”

Erika looked hard at him, then gave him a knowing smile.

“He owes you, right? But I see all the visitors and nobody like him's come through in the past week or two. Mackenzie might have sent him straight away to the mine. Or the new project, the one north of town. Nobody knows what he's up to but I think he is diverting another stream to add to the water he already takes from Wilson's Creek.”

“Might be the water's poisoned when he gets done with it at the mine.”

“Heard that's possible,” she said.

“So how am I going to get you all free? If I kill Mackenzie, that'd solve the problem. He doesn't look to be the kind who trusts a second-in-command. Cut off the head and the body dies.”

“Men have tried. All of them ended up slashed apart by the thunderbird. It only adds to Mackenzie's reputation.”

“So how do I get you—and them—out?”

“You promise you won't leave me?” She reached out and stroked over his crotch.

“I won't let you stay here a second longer than necessary,” Slocum promised.

“This'll seal the deal,” she said, rising and planting a wet kiss on his lips. “Now that we're partners, here's a plan I worked out a while back but couldn't pull off alone.”

Slocum listened closely. Erika ought to have been a general. She had worked out the details in a clever, if desperate, escape plan. All they needed was a little luck—and Slocum's Colt.

“You get the horses, John. I'll prepare for everything else.” Erika held the tin of lucifers Slocum had given her in the palm of her hand, as if weighing them.

“This is only good once,” he told her.

The grin she gave told him how much she would enjoy torching Wilson's Creek. She sidled closer and gave him a quick kiss.

“Go on. We don't have much time,” she said.

Slocum strode off, heading for the stables Erika had pointed out to him. He took three horses, retrieved his own, and then rode straight for the mine. It was going to be light soon, and the shift would change at the mine. The number of guards couldn't be maintained, and Slocum doubted they would be. Mackenzie had waited for him to free the prisoners. During the day any such attempt would be more obvious. Or so he thought.

Whether he could bluff his way into the mine to free Linc Watson or had to shoot his way in—and out—worried Slocum a mite. He decided to tackle the problem of freeing Mrs. Watson again. With the horses ready, he felt he had a better chance. He rode to the side of the mercury amalgam plant and kicked free of his horse. Barely had his boots touched the ground when he was challenged.

“Who're you?”

Slocum turned and faced a pair of guards positioned just inside the plant door.

“Mackenzie sent me to fetch the accountant woman. He says there's been someone stealing gold dust, and he wants to find out who it is.”

Slocum hadn't expected such swift reaction—and realized a split second too late he ought to have come up with a different reason for Mackenzie demanding to see Mrs. Watson. Both guards lifted their rifles to plug him. He was quick, but they had the upper hand. One rifle slug ripped away part of his hat and embedded itself in the wall. The second spanged off his belt buckle, doubling him over.

With a loud
whoosh!
as air rushed from his lungs, he stepped back and sat hard, dazed.

“Finish him off,” he heard someone say in the far distance. The ringing in his ears muffled the reply.

But instinct took over. He flopped onto his side, braced the butt of his Colt against the ground, and fired. His shot went low but struck one guard in the knee, sending him hopping about and yelping in pain. Something about the other man's outcry cleared Slocum's head. His next shot ended the man's life, drilling clean through his heart.

The return fire took the second gunman by surprise and slowed him enough for Slocum to use both hands to steady his pistol and aim higher. His slug ripped through the guard's forehead and came out the crown of his hat just as his finger jerked hard on the rifle trigger. That slug went wide but spooked the horses. Slocum rolled and rolled in the filth that had fallen from the air due to vapors from the chemical process inside the building. He sneezed and hurt and forced himself to his feet.

He touched the belt buckle and the silver smear where the lead had expended itself. The bullet had almost drilled through, but he had been damned lucky. An inch higher and he would have gotten gut shot. An inch lower and he'd have wished for the rest of his life that he had died.

Stumbling forward, he got to the doorway and hunted for other guards. One came from the room where Mrs. Watson tended her columns of numbers.

“What's going on?” the guard called.

Slocum's answer was a shot to the man's chest. Moving faster now, Slocum stepped over the body and into the room. The woman hunched over the ledger and entered her numbers from scraps of paper on the table into the bound book. He wondered how accurate she could be after breathing so much of the mercury vapor that she wasn't in her right mind. Mackenzie probably didn't care, and besides, Mrs. Watson was still a lot more lucid than the Wilson's Creek tyrant.

“We're going,” he said.

“I know you. You were here before. But you left.”

Slocum saw that the blacksmith who had replaced the rivet he had sprung before had done a poor job. One of the guards might have simply put the cold rivet back through the holes and hammered it flat without heating. The iron rod he had used to pry her free before lay in the corner of the room. Slocum grunted once and the iron shackles fell free.

“We need to get your husband now,” he told her. “After that, we're riding to see Alicia.”

“I have a daughter named Alicia. Another one named Loretta.”

“That's right. You can see them all.”

This satisfied Mrs. Watson, and she trailed docilely as Slocum took a quick look around outside the building.

“My, I haven't ridden a horse in I don't know how long. Are the spare horses for Linc and Alicia?”

“For your husband and a friend who's helping us escape. We'll have to ride fast to see Alicia.”

“She's such a pigheaded girl. Not like Loretta. Loretta was good in school, but not Alicia.”

Slocum left the woman astride the horse talking to herself. He mounted, grabbed the reins for the two riderless horses, and started toward the mouth of the mine. No one had come to find why there had been gunfire. For all he knew, the guards randomly shot their prisoners for sport. But he stood in the stirrups and looked back toward town, waiting for Erika to set fire to the hotel. That would cause enough commotion to get Linc Watson out of the mine and ride along the outskirts of town to pick up Erika.

Slocum recoiled when an explosion rolled over the countryside. A huge pillar of fire rose, followed quickly by oily black smoke. Whatever Erika had done, it had created havoc. Like all towns built slapdash, fire was a constant threat. If the townspeople didn't turn out to extinguish the blaze quickly, every building would burn to the ground. Those made of brick might be left with walls standing, but roofs and doors would be charred and the interiors would be smoldering ruins.

A second explosion told him the hotel was completely destroyed. If the woman had found dynamite, she had used it as part of her arson.

“Get the miners to town. Bucket brigade. Hurry!” Slocum called as guards spilled from the mouth of the mine to see what the ruckus was.

“The hell with that,” snarled the guard in the front. “Mackenzie told us never to let 'em out of the mine. Do it, Cole.”

“You sure?”

“Do it!”

Slocum went for his six-shooter to stop the guard but saw he had no chance to prevent Cole from lighting a stick of dynamite and tossing it into the mine. The explosion spooked his horse. By the time Slocum brought the gelding under control, dust billowed from the mineshaft. The blast had brought down the roof and plugged the mine. Getting Linc Watson out now would take more time and work than he could afford.

Slocum ignored the cries from the guards as he spurred his horse to a gallop. His plan—Erika's—had gone south fast. It took only minutes to catch up with Mrs. Watson. She rode along fearfully. The noise and confusion from the burning town frightened her.

“Come on. We've got to get my friend before we leave,” he told her.

“Where's Linc? Wasn't he supposed to come with me?”

Slocum herded her forward, despite her confusion and demand to know where her husband was. Telling her the truth that Linc Watson had died in a mine explosion wouldn't settle the matter. If anything, it might set her off, and Slocum had Erika to rescue now.

They drew rein directly south of the still blazing hotel. Slocum grew antsy when he didn't see the woman and wondered if he ought to trust Mrs. Watson to stay there while he hunted for Erika. Just as he decided it had to be done, he saw the fiery-haired barkeep running straight for him.

He stood in the stirrups and waved. Erika saw him. And then Slocum saw death flashing down from the sky.

“Duck!”

His warning came too late. A dark figure surged upward above Erika, then swooped down in a powerful dive. In the firelight wicked metal talons flashed. Slocum drew and fired, but the range proved too great for a handgun. He emptied his Colt and wished he had a rifle. He should have taken one back at the mine. He should have—

In a heartbeat it didn't matter.

The birdlike creature swooped low. Erika saw her danger and tried to dodge. With claws raking her and knocking her to the ground, the beast surged upward and away. Slocum heard mocking laughter—a voice he recognized. Somehow, Mackenzie had strapped on his mechanical wings and soared above Wilson's Creek to dive and bring death to Erika.

Mackenzie banked, rose, and then disappeared into the heavy smoke from the burning hotel. Slocum started to go recover Erika's body, then halted when armed men rushed to pull her to her feet. She sagged, then fought weakly.

She was still alive, but Slocum had no hope of rescuing her before Mackenzie's guards dragged her away, back into town.

“That was the thunderbird,” Mrs. Watson said, frightened. “It'll kill everyone Mackenzie commands it to kill.”

“That was Mackenzie,” he said bitterly. “He's wearing cloth and iron wings.”

“Where's Linc? You said you were taking me to Alicia and Loretta.”

With a last forlorn look into town, Slocum rode toward the canyon mouth and freedom—for Mrs. Watson.

Slocum got the woman past the guard towers before the armed men arrived—if they would at all. Fighting the fire that Erika had set took precedence over everything else or Wilson's Creek would be reduced to smoking rubble. The stench of burning wood and flesh made Slocum's nose wrinkle as he kept the sight at his back and finally made his way around the bend in the canyon. He and Mrs. Watson were hidden from direct sight, but he still felt uneasiness. More than once he cast looks upward to the canyon rims, expecting Mackenzie to come flying down with his slashing claws.

Knowing the secret of the deadly thunderbird did nothing to ease Slocum's mind. The others believed the spirit bird existed. In a way, it hardly mattered that Mackenzie was responsible for the savage deaths. Dupree was just as dead being killed by a mortal human as he would have been if the thunderbird had been real.

“Up there,” Slocum said to the woman. “It's not much of a trail, but it's big enough if you walk the horse.”

“Walk? Oh, yes, I am tired of riding. Where is my husband?”

“Alicia is waiting for you,” he said to distract her.

“Oh, good.” Mrs. Watson giggled like a schoolgirl. She climbed down and began hiking up the steep trail.

Slocum snared the fallen reins, then stepped down from his gelding and followed, tugging to keep the horses from balking. By the time he reached the cave where he and Alicia had spent such a pleasant time, he felt they were safe. Somehow, thoughts of Erika intruded as he looked to the cave. She had dared to help him get Mrs. Watson out of her captivity and probably had lost her life.

“Mama!”

Slocum craned his neck and saw Alicia rush from the cave and throw her arms around her mother, hugging her close. For a moment, Mrs. Watson's mind cleared and she sounded coherent as she spoke with her daughter. Hanging back to allow them time together, Slocum stared back down the trail to the canyon floor. Without consciously realizing it, he looked upward. The daylight bathing the rocks showed sharp edges and deep shadows, but nowhere did he see Mackenzie and his crazy flying gear.

When enough time had passed, Slocum went to the cave entrance and herded the horses inside to stand with Alicia's. The cave had become close, hardly large enough for three people with the horses also stabled inside, but neither of the women complained.

“Thank you, John, for rescuing her. She seems . . . different.”

“Mercury can do that. She worked in the amalgam separation plant and breathed in fumes twelve hours a day.”

“Will she ever be right in the head again?” Alicia's worry was sincere.

“Sometimes the brain clears up. Might take time and lots of fresh air.”

He waited. Alicia looked over her shoulder at her mother, who sat humming to herself and piling rocks on top of each other, then repeating it when the small tower toppled.

Alicia looked back at him.

“Where's my father?”

“Where's Rawhide Rawlins?”

“I'll tell you when you get my pa back.” The set to her chin showed her determination.

Slocum wasn't sure he dared make yet another trip into the town. After Erika's arson, the residents would be prickly and inclined to shoot any stranger on sight. Enough of Mackenzie's henchmen knew him by sight, but so did Mackenzie. He had to believe Mackenzie wasn't completely loco, or if he was, a modicum of cunning remained and knew who had caused so much trouble. Returning to Wilson's Creek would be putting his neck in a noose.

Or letting the thunderbird rip out his guts.

“He's dead,” Slocum said. “The mine collapsed as I was getting away with your ma.”

“You saw the body?”

“He was in the mine when the guards dynamited the mouth.”

“But you didn't see his dead body?”

Slocum shook his head. They had reached an impasse. To go into Wilson's Creek again was suicidal, yet Linc Watson might be alive. So might Rawhide Rawlins.

And Erika.

Damning himself as a fool and maybe as touched in the head as Mackenzie, Slocum backed his horse from the cave onto the trail and headed back for town.