As the Cowboy Commands [Ecstasy in the Old West 2] (Siren Publishing Allure) (14 page)

“Oh, excuse me,” Jerome said with a beaming smile when he saw Jared. “I’m Jerome Neilson, president of this bank. I see you’ve met my son, Gregg.”

Jerome extended his hand in greeting. Gregg, sitting in his chair and watching from a distance, saw the coldness in Jared’s eyes, noticed his hesitation before he shook hands. Jared’s reaction was
not
what Gregg had been hoping for in a hired gunman.

* * * *

The instant that Jared set eyes on Gregg, he recognized him as the man who had ridden to Helen’s the previous day to complain that she hadn’t shown up for work. Gregg, unimpressive in height and considerable in weight, was the man that Helen was sharing her love life—or, at the very least, her sex life—with. It took every bit of willpower that Jared possessed to not say anything about Helen to the banker. Jared felt like a man who was slowly being poisoned by knowledge he profoundly wished he did not possess.

He started out not liking Gregg, though he really knew nothing about him. But the more Gregg spoke, the more he explained how otherwise innocent people were to have “accidents” with Jared’s well-paid “help,” the more Jared learned to loathe the overdressed, overweight jackass named Gregg Neilson.

Jared had just been about to explain that he wasn’t a hired assassin. He was, however, a hired gun who, for a price, would try to equalize the odds in favor of the less advantaged, provided their cause was just. Gregg had made it quite clear that murder—or in the very least, maiming people for the rest of their life—would be expected of him as part of his job duties. Jared might not have chosen for himself the most nonviolent of professions, but he had his standards, and that meant that he simply didn’t commit murder and mayhem just because he was paid to. Contrary to popular opinion, at least one gunman had standards that he would not compromise.

“I see my son is having a drink,” Jerome said once introductions had been made. It was clear from the tone of his voice that he did not entirely approve of drinking during business hours. “I hope he offered you one as well.”

“He did,” Jared said. Deliberating a moment, Jared decided to let Gregg’s father speak. Perhaps the son, overzealous in his desire to succeed, had overstepped his father’s wishes.

Jerome was more diplomatic than Gregg, not coming straight out to explain that Jared would be paid to harass, intimidate, and even cripple or murder those unfortunate souls who happened to be standing in the way of the Neilsons’ grand plans.

In the end, when the fancy words were stripped away and the cold, brutal reality was examined with an objective eye, what the Neilsons were looking for was an assassin who killed on command and didn’t ask such messy questions like “why?” In Whitetail Creek and the surrounding area, there were many men who could fulfill those job requirements. Jared, however, wasn’t one of them.

Jared went to the office door and opened it. He looked out into the lobby, searching unsuccessfully for Helen. He turned back toward Jerome and asked, “This all the folks you got working for you?”

“Yes. Why?”

“No reason. Just curious.” He shrugged. “Seems there’s been some mistake here. When you sent me that telegram, you said you have poachers on your land. What you’re talking about now isn’t so much about poachers as it is honest folks scratching out a living by their own hard work.”

Jared looked straight into Jerome’s eyes, and sensed that the elder understood fully what had just been explained. It was also clear to Jared that Jerome was furious at his son’s overly descriptive explanation of what job duties would be necessary.

“Listen, if it’s a matter of money, I’m sure we can negotiate a fee more to your liking,” Gregg said quickly, sensing a change of opinion that would mightily disturb the patriarch of the Neilson clan.

With forced calmness, Jerome said, “Gregg, shut up.” To Jared he said, “Don’t make a hasty decision. My son has never quite learned that a man’s got two ears but just one mouth, and he should use them in that proportion.” He smiled as a father would who had been embarrassed on more than one occasion by his son and wished for a little understanding because of it. “You’re staying at the Golden Nugget?”

“The Spoke and Wheel.”

“Cancel your room at the Spoke and Wheel. You’ll be much more comfortable at the Golden Nugget. Just tell them that you are a guest of Jerome Neilson.” He turned his palms upward in a gesture of frustration. “Please, accept my hospitality. Nothing will be requested of you. You came all the way to Whitetail Creek. The least I can do is pay for your hotel room.”

“I’ll pay my own way.”

“Fine. Pay your own way. But I’m sure you’ll find the Golden Nugget much more to your liking than the Spoke and Wheel.”

Jared at last smiled and replied, “Thanks for the advice. I’ll take it.

* * * *

“How long you been in town, mister?”

Jared looked at the woman who had spoken. She was perhaps twenty-five, but she looked a few years older than that. Her hair was golden blonde, her eyes light blue, her skin pale, her figure trim. The dress she wore was too big for her, and Jared suspected it was a hand-me-down from some other woman selling her services at the Golden Nugget. All of the women working at the Golden Nugget were quite pretty, though the profession took its toll.

“Well? Don’t you talk none? My name Gertrude, but everybody calls me Gertie.” She slid her chair a little closer to Jared’s and, beneath the round, much-scarred wooden table, placed her hand on his thigh. “You looking for some company?”

Jared finally spoke. He said, “No.”

The bluntness of his comment caused Gertie to sit a little straighter in her chair. Her hand trailed up from his thigh to his hip. The pink tip of her tongue moistened lips tinted red with rouge. It was obvious to Jared that she was contemplating her next statement to him carefully. He had no wish for either her companionship or her conversation. In front of him was a reasonably decent bottle of whiskey and a beer that was quite fresh, rather cool, and came from St. Paul, Minnesota. Several beers and the bottle of whiskey was all that Jared was looking forward to for that evening.

“Listen,” Gertie said at last, speaking just loud enough to be heard above the badly-played piano and the general din of the saloon’s crowd, “I’m not going to pretend I’m a lady, but I’d really like a drink. Would you see it clear to buying a working girl a drink?”

For the first time, Jared looked the woman directly in the eyes. “Get a glass,” he said.

Her genuine smile took years off her appearance. She was out of her chair in an instant, striding with practiced ease between chairs and patrons who tried to grope her, until she was at the bar. The bartender raised a knowing eyebrow and handed her a whiskey glass. Gertie was back beside Jared in just seconds, her glass on the table and her hand high on the inside of his thigh.

“I don’t want to be selfish,” Gertie said, “so I’ll just let you do the pouring.”

Jared pulled the cork from the bottle, filled Gertie’s glass to the rim, then set the bottle down on the table—conspicuously not returning the cork to the bottle. Gertie, sensing that this wouldn’t be her last free drink of the night from the tall, handsome stranger dressed all in black, smiled for a moment then slowly lifted her glass, careful as a surgeon to not spill so much as a single drop of the precious, amber liquid.

Jared picked up his whiskey glass, took a hefty swallow, followed that up with three swallows of beer, and then leaned back in his chair and looked out the window. The sun would be setting soon. Tomorrow he would talk to Jerome privately, without Gregg being there, and find out
exactly
what he would be expected to do. If, after all the fancy words, it turned out that Gregg’s blunt declaration of needing a hired assassin proved to be correct, then Jared would refuse the assignment, get on his horse, and ride out of town. It wouldn’t make any difference how much money Jerome offered.

He felt slender, feminine fingers tracing circles on the inside of his thigh, inching closer to the slowly growing bulge of his awakening cock. Jared continued looking out the window. He wasn’t interested in Gertie. Not that he hadn’t been with women of her profession, but for tonight, his thoughts never roamed far from a voluptuous, auburn-haired vixen named Helen Miller.

The very fact that Jared wasn’t interested in Gertie was somewhat more than mildly irksome to Jared. It would be so easy to lose all his worries in a woman’s bed, to bury his hard cock into her willing body, and when he achieved his satisfaction, simply put on his clothes and ride out of town. He’d done it a hundred times in a hundred towns not substantially different from Whitetail Creek. Probably
more
than a hundred times. But he just wasn’t interested in sex with a stranger on this particular night.

“You look like a man with a lot on his mind,” Gertie said, keeping her voice low. Her fingers eased up Jared’s thigh, crawling over the lump of his burgeoning cock. Gertie smiled and purred, squeezing several times in quick succession. The flesh beneath her palm was growing swiftly. “You not only got a lot on your mind, you got a lot in your trousers, mister.” With the flat of her palm, she rubbed up and down the length of Jared’s cock, her eyes widening with pleasure and awe as she felt the long column of manly flesh stretching and growing down the leg of his black trousers. “Goddamn it, mister, you got the equipment of a stallion.” She ran her fingers up and down over his length, measuring him, judging him. “I had thought I’d be charging you to go on upstairs, but mister, if you want me, I’m yours. That’s the biggest piece I’ve ever come across—and you don’t seem fully grow’d yet.” She snorted with self-derisive scorn. “And trust me, I’ve come across a lot of meat in my life.”

Jared said nothing, continuing to look out the window. He was faintly annoyed that his penis, as always, had responded to a woman’s touch, acting of its own accord, perpetually ready for pleasure, for excitement, no matter where it came from, no matter what the circumstances were. The rational side of his brain said that there was no reason in the world he shouldn’t take Gertie upstairs. It was all but guaranteed that she would treat him well sexually, and it was always a special thrill to fuck a woman for the first time.

Only Jared wasn’t listening to the rational side of his brain, and he wasn’t interested in the “special thrill” of sex with a woman for the first time. What he wanted—to his considerable consternation—was the thrill of making love to one particular woman
again.
Traveling over territory he’d crossed before wasn’t usual for Jared, but he didn’t care. He wanted Helen. He wanted to feel her full, firm thighs surrounding his hips as he drove his hard cock into her pussy. He wanted to feel those astonishing tits billowing out against his naked chest as he heaved above her, driving into her with every ounce of strength and energy that he possessed. He thirsted for the taste of her lips.

“Mister, you want to tell me your name? If you don’t, just make somethin’ up. I don’t mind.” Gertie giggled softly, almost like a little girl, as she fondled Jared’s now considerably-sized erection through the gabardine fabric of his trousers. “I ain’t never had a man built like this shoving up inside me. Saints be praised, mister, you got yourself somethin’ real special here.”

Jared at last turned away from the window. He picked up the whiskey bottle and filled Gertie’s glass once again to the rim. His face was utterly devoid of expression when he looked at the woman surreptitiously fondling his erection.

“Come on upstairs with me, mister,” Gertie whispered. She picked up the now-full whiskey glass and brought it to her lips without spilling a drop. When the glass was again back on the table, it was half empty. “You don’t gotta pay me nothin’.” Her face lost its animation, taking on a quiet seriousness as she added, “I ain’t never been with a man like you.” She reached deep between his thighs to fondle his testicles. “You’re more man than any man I ever know’d.”

Jared was not entirely drunk, but he was not entirely sober, either. His cock was hard as stone, but for the life of him he just couldn’t find enough motivation to take Gertie upstairs to her room. She had made it clear that she wanted him, that she would do anything he wanted, and that she wasn’t looking for payment for her services. But every time Jared looked at her, all he saw was a very slender woman with unremarkable breasts that she was more than willing to show with a low-cut décolletage. What Jared was hungry for, what his mind and body were aching for, was a voluptuous woman with large and round and amazingly beautiful breasts who wore dresses that hardly showed any cleavage at all.

He wanted Helen, or no one at all.

Jared rose to his feet. He picked out a five dollar coin from his pocket and dropped it onto the table near the half-empty whiskey bottle. “You take that money and that bottle up to your room,” he said. “If I get the feeling, I’ll be up to see you. If I don’t get the feeling, you just stay alone in your room all night. You can help yourself to that bottle, if you like.”

Such behavior was so uncommon in Gertie’s life that she couldn’t think of anything to say. Jared was walking through the swinging batwing doors of the Golden Nugget saloon when she said with absolute honesty, “You’re a real gentleman, mister. A real, true gentleman.”

Jared had made it through the saloon’s doors, but had not stepped off the boardwalk yet, when he watched two people walk out of the First Bank & Trust of Whitetail Creek. One was Helen Miller, wearing a gray skirt, white blouse with a touch of lace in front that buttoned all the way up to her throat, and a gray, waist-length jacket. Her luxurious, auburn hair was held in a rather severe bun at the base of her neck. She was talking animatedly to a short, slender young man, who apparently wasn’t believing what it was Helen was saying because he was shaking his head vigorously and making motions in the air with both hands.