Slocum and the Thunderbird (6 page)

Slocum dunked his head in the stream and came up, shaking like a wet dog. The pain eased and let him think more clearly. Riding toward the bird caws deeper in the canyon might not be the smartest move he ever considered, but Rawlins had gone that way with the bank money. All he wanted was to get his share, then leave the Dakotas as fast as his horse could take him.

He studied the ground and saw that Alicia had ridden into the canyon where Dupree had been killed. He considered her motives, then decided she was telling him the truth—or the truth as she saw it. The screeches in the one canyon had forced her to choose a different route. Retracing her tracks to the ghost town would take her into the arms of the law. She might be a good enough liar to deny knowing anything about the dead deputy, but Slocum had seen the fire in her eyes when she spoke of the man who had tried to rape her in the old hotel. Alicia would give herself away and likely in ways she never thought of.

If the marshal saw her with the pistol, he'd probably recognize it as the dead deputy's. Alicia's wrists would be clamped into irons and she'd languish in the Halliday jail.

Knowing it was foolish, but lying enough to himself that he needed what she knew of Wilson's Creek to find Rawlins, he mounted and rode after her. From the sun in the sky, he had been knocked out for close to a half hour, giving her a big head start. Rather than pushing his horse to overtake her, he rode steadily, keeping a sharp lookout for the bear that had killed Dupree—and Mackenzie's henchmen. That part of Alicia's story rang true.

Slocum had seen enough towns run by a fast gun. Fear controlled most of the population, and a small army of gunmen always shot first and thought later. That kept the ordinary citizens cowed. In this part of the Badlands, Wilson's Creek must have developed as a mining town. It might have been where the populace from the one to the east had moved when new gold strikes had been made. Men always sought the quick riches, the easy wealth.

He passed the sandy pit where Dupree's body had been, drew rein, and halted to study the matter a bit more. His earlier suspicion had proven true. Dupree's corpse had been well gnawed, and ants worked on it now that the larger carrion eaters had eaten their fill. Slocum hunted for any bear scat, and slowly a question came to him that he hadn't considered before.

If a bear had killed Dupree, why hadn't it bothered to eat him? The lack of tracks other than a few deep claw marks in the sand was curious, but the bear had not had much of a fight, not attacking Dupree from the back. Slocum remembered that Dupree's six-shooter had been in his holster, so he hadn't angered the bear with a stray shot.

Slocum had seen bullets bounce off a bear's skull. That could make any creature furious if it didn't kill it outright. But the bear had struck from behind.

Had it even been a bear? There was no way a black bear or grizzly killed a man without leaving more trace in the sand. In spite of himself, Slocum mentally pictured a huge bird swooping down as Dupree looked away. Talons flashing, the thunderbird would have killed before the man even knew he was dead.

Slocum snorted. There wasn't any such thing. What was real existed all around him, where he could see it, feel it, and shoot it.

He snapped about, eyes going to the canyon wall on his right. Being lost in his speculation about a thunderbird had turned him careless. A bit of luck allowed him to see Alicia's tracks cutting to a narrow trail that led up to the rim. She was trying to escape the maze of canyons.

Turning his horse to the narrow trail, he studied the signs for a full minute to make out a muddled set of hoofprints. Alicia's horse went up, but another set of boot prints was almost as recent. He rode a few yards up the path to the point where the boot prints stopped suddenly. It was as if the man had walked this far and evaporated. While it seemed incredible, whoever had left that set of tracks had jumped from the trail to the top of a huge boulder.

Slocum let out a low whistle of disbelief. To reach the rock, the man had to jump a full twenty feet. Slocum had seen men in his day capable of incredible feats, but nothing like this. And from the likeliest rock to the sandy pit where Dupree had died was another thirty feet. All Slocum had seen on the ground, rocky though it was, had been Alicia's tracks.

He dismounted and looked more closely at the boot prints. The toes had dug in deeper than the heels, showing the man had jumped. Slocum looked up slowly and doubted anyone could make it to the nearest rock. He studied the ground almost thirty feet below. The man ought to have landed and broken every bone in his body. The vegetation showed no trace of being disturbed by a body crashing down from a great height.

A horse neighing farther along the steeply curving trail made Slocum lean out precariously to see the switchback fifty feet above his head. He heard soft sounds, possibly Alicia cursing, then a stone tumbled down past him. Someone was ahead of him on the upper part of the trail, and it was probably the woman.

He walked his horse around the sharp turn and saw the back half of a horse on the trail a hundred feet ahead. Trudging up the slope, he halted to get a better idea of what he faced. The horse stood half in a cave. Alicia didn't appear to be on the trail, so she had to be in the cave. Slocum secured his horse's reins to a rock and edged forward, not wanting to spook the other horse. It remembered him and only pawed a bit at the hard rock cave floor.

Alicia sat inside, holding her head in her hands and sobbing quietly.

He slipped past the horse and watched her. It took the woman a few seconds to realize she had company. When her head came up, her eyes flashed open and a tiny gasp escaped her lips.

“You shouldn't have left me like that,” Slocum said. “There's more going on in these canyons than meets the eye.” His thoughts flashed to Dupree dying in such a bloody fashion and the untouched ground around his corpse. He pushed back his Stetson to show the lump where she had clobbered him. “Hurts like hell.”

“I can't go back to Wilson's Creek. I was a slave there and so were—” She bit off the rest of her words.

“You being used there? By this Mackenzie?”

She shook her head and slowly said, “I was lucky. He hadn't got around to me, but he would have.”

“Your family wasn't so lucky, were they?”

She jumped as if he had stuck her.

“It's not hard figuring out why you're so upset. You got away, they didn't. You want to get somebody to save them.”

“That's why I need to fetch the cavalry and wipe out every last one of those outlaws.”

“And Mackenzie? You want the Army to take him prisoner?” He watched her reaction. He doubted she was a good enough actress to pretend the stark hatred he saw in her eyes. He knew the emotions filling her. “You want to kill him yourself.”

“I'll shoot him or cut his throat or strangle him. It doesn't matter. I want him dead, and I want to do it for what he's done.”

“Explaining that might have gone a ways toward me letting you go,” Slocum said.

Her bow-shaped lip curled into a sneer. She shook her head hard enough to dislodge the grimy brunette strands. Without consciously thinking, she pushed the hair back out of her eyes. The hatred burned even brighter now as she thought on Mackenzie.

“Don't lie to me,” she said. “You want to find your partner, the one that rode off to Wilson's Creek after maybe throwing in with Mackenzie's men, and you want me to help you. I won't.”

Slocum wondered if Rawlins would ride along willingly—or if Mackenzie's men would allow it. That Alicia had broached the idea meant that more about Wilson's Creek had to be unearthed before he rode in and got himself killed.

“Might be we can join forces. I can find my partner and help you get your family out.” He saw the change in her attitude. A touch of doubt replaced the hatred there before. Slocum bent over, put his finger under her chin, and lifted her face upward.

He kissed her. For a moment, she resisted, then the kiss became mutual. Alicia threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down to sit beside her. They shifted about, and during the preliminary mating dance, Slocum shucked off his cross-draw holster, tossed aside his hat, and added Alicia's blouse to the pile.

“Don't stop,” she said as he ran his finger along her jaw, across her throat with its throbbing vein, and then lower to the deep valley between her breasts.

She shrugged her shoulders and pulled her torn chemise down, leaving her naked to the waist. For a moment he only stared at the white mounds of succulent flesh. There was a great deal to appreciate. The twin mounds of tit were firm and white, delicately veined with blue. Capping each grew a pink nipple, hardening with her arousal. He pulled her closer, but Alicia reached up and laced her fingers behind his head, moving his face down into the deep, warm canyon.

He got the idea. His tongue flicked out to tease and torment, then he moved from the valley between to the summit on her left breast. Sucking hard, he drew the nip between his lips and then pressed his tongue down hard, mashing it into the softness of the breast beneath. Alicia gasped and thrust her chest forward in an effort to stuff more into his mouth.

Slocum used his teeth to rake along the tender sides. Then his tongue soothed. He finally blew gently. The evaporation sent shivers throughout her body. Her body had been tense. Now it melted.

Slocum followed her backward, his mouth never letting up on the oral assault he gave to every part of her chest. One tit to the other, playing with her nipples, sucking, biting, licking, he did everything until she sobbed with the stark pleasure of it all.

“More,” she said. “Your mouth is wonderful, John, but I want more.”

He ran his hands under her skirts and pushed upward, stroking along the insides of her thighs. Every touch sent a new tremor through her body. As he pushed the unwanted cloth out of the way to expose her most intimate regions, she rocked back and lifted her knees on either side of his body.

But he had other ideas. Rather than slide forward and enter her, he got his shoulder under her knees and lifted her legs high, causing her to wantonly expose herself.

“You liked my mouth before? How about now?” He thrust his face at the juncture of her thighs and licked the pinkly scalloped sex lips from bottom to top.

A shriek of pure delight rewarded his efforts. His tongue flashed about, then worked its way between her nether lips into her heated core. He pressed a thumb down on the tiny pink spire rising at the top of her sex lips and diddled it as he strove to shove his tongue as far into her heated core as possible. For a moment, he became blind and deaf. Her strong thighs clamped on either side of his head, holding him in place.

His efforts never flagged. He moved his left arm around to the small of her back and lifted her hips so he could gain easier access. Tongue flicking about like a snake's, he soon caused her to arch her back even more and cry out in release. The death-lock of her legs around his head eased.

As she relaxed, he moved to get up on his knees. He kept his shoulders firmly under her legs as he popped the fly buttons on his jeans and let his manhood rush out.

Her eyes flickered open as she said, “That was so good. I—aieee!”

She cried out as he leaned forward, bending her double as he shoved forward. His shaft entered the exact spot where his tongue had been only seconds earlier. It was his turn to gasp as he sank balls deep and felt her tight and hot and damp all around him. For a few seconds, he relished the feel about him, then he pulled back slowly. Inch by inch he withdrew until only the bulbous head of his manhood remained within her.

Easing up on the pressure he applied to her legs, he looked down at her lovely face. A tiny smile crept to the corners of her mouth. Her eyes opened and stared directly at him, challenging him, demanding more.

He gave it to her. He bent her back again and drove even deeper into her gripping center. He began stroking slowly, evenly, entering and retreating at the same pace. She tensed when he was entirely hidden within, squeezing down sensuously on him. This easy motion kept up until friction mounted along his length, goading him to thrust faster. Slocum was dripping in sweat by the time he pistoned fiercely and then lost control.

She cried out again and clutched at his forearms, her fingernails cutting into his flesh. Neither noticed the tiny wounds as release totally possessed them both.

Slocum rocked back and surrendered her legs. They lowered to either side of his body, and she reached down to stroke along his shaft as it melted within her and finally slipped free. No amount of coaxing could get him ready again, not this fast. He wished it could be different.

Never had he seen a woman so lovely. Her cheeks were flushed with a glow that extended all the way down to the tops of her breasts. Her parted lips beckoned, but he couldn't deliver. Not yet. Soon, but not right now.

He rolled across her and lay on the rocky ground next to her. She took his hand and placed it on a bare breast.

“I've never come like that before,” she said in a small voice. “You surprised me.”

“Riding night herd gave me a lot of time to think about what to do with a pretty woman,” he said.

“You must have been on the range a
very
long time,” she teased. “Or you have a
very
active imagination.”

“There wasn't any imagining what we just done.” He squeezed down on her breast, her hand atop his.

“We can be very good together,” she said.

Slocum had been in the saddle too long without sleep. This lovemaking had taken the rest of the starch out of him. He wanted to stare at her and drink in her loveliness, but his eyelids sagged and eventually betrayed him.

When he awoke, she was gone again. This time she hadn't slugged him with a rock. All things considered, he preferred this way for her to sneak away from him.