Slocum's Breakout (18 page)

“Oh, yes, John, I want you so!”

He slid his hands up under her skirts and began lifting. Her flesh slipped like satin under his fingers as he worked upward. Her calves, her thighs, inside those luscious things. Higher. She cried out when he slid a finger into her wet slit. Working it around in the tightness, he caused her to almost lose her balance. He was on his knees as he fingered her. She had to balance by putting her hands on his shoulders.

With a surge up, he stood and pressed his hips forward. The plum-tipped throbbing organ between his legs found the perfect fit between her. Where his finger had been in an instant before, he now drove upward. Surrounded by her tightness, her heat, her sexual vibrancy, he lifted her onto her toes. It took him but a second to wrap his arms around her waist and hoist her up entirely.

Her legs parted, then circled about his waist so they hung together as one. For a long minute, neither breathed, neither moved. Then Maria's hips began a slow gyration. She pressed down, moved in a slow, erotic circle, and pulled back just enough. Slocum felt as if he was being crushed by her strong inner muscles.

Kissing her as she moved drove both their desires higher. His hands cupped her rump, then began bouncing her up and down to match the circular movement she provided. The combination of in-out and up-down caused a prairie fire to rage in his loins.

He spun about and caught sight of the farms spread below. The wind whipping off those fields cooled the sweat beading on his forehead and plastering his shirt to his body. The combination of hot and cold caused his passions to bubble even more. With a quick move, he dropped to his knees and leaned forward so Maria was flat on her back, her legs still up in the air.

In this position he had better leverage. His thrusts grew in power. Each drove deeper into her willing, wanton body. She gasped and thrashed about as she clawed at his upper arms. Her dark eyes popped open, but they were glazed with lust.

“Yes, yes,” she sobbed out.

Slocum moved faster but could not maintain the steady rhythm. His own desire passed the point of no return. His movement became jerky, hard, deep. And then he exploded within her core.

Her back arched and she rammed her crotch down hard into his to take every inch of him she could. And then they sank down together, lying side by side. Their desires were sated, and both had no words.

They held each other, Maria with her head resting on his chest. He felt her hot breath again, but this time it was slow, even.

He stroked her lustrous black hair and felt her snuggle even closer. Looking past her, he saw the sky was filling with puffy white clouds. There might be rain later, but he doubted it. The season was dry.

Dry. Was it so lacking that it would never rain again? Was he so lacking in honor that he would not keep a promise he had made?

“I'll think of something,” he said softly.

“I know,” Maria answered.

Neither moved until the sun began to set, then they returned to the village. When they spent the night together in Maria's tiny bed, he still had no idea how to rescue Atencio from the gallows.

“The sheriff comes,” Maria whispered. “Hide, John, or he will see you!”

Slocum pressed back against the gunsmith's shop in Miramar, just down the street from the sheriff's office. He knew the risk he took coming to town but had no other choice. Time pressed down on him something fierce, with Atencio scheduled for execution tomorrow morning.

“I need those supplies,” he told her, keeping his head down to hide his face under his broad hat brim.

“You will be in jail. Here he comes!”

“Decoy him. If I try to go now, he'll spot me for sure.” Slocum settled down in a chair, rocked back, and pulled his hat even lower over his face. He heard the sheriff's boots clicking on the boardwalk as he approached. From the corner of his eye, he saw the lawman's feet come and stop just inches away. Slocum fancied he could feel Bernard's breath gusting against the crown of his hat. It took all his control not to go for his six-shooter.

“I know you,” Sheriff Bernard said.

“I am from the farming village outside town,” Maria said.

“You hang around with Procipio Murrieta, don't you?”

“I have not seen him.”

“Didn't ask that. 'Course you haven't seen him since he's an escaped prisoner from San Quentin.”

“He is our
alcalde
.”

“He does keep the peace out yonder,” Bernard said. “I appreciate that since I got my hands full around town. Around the rest of the county, too.” The sheriff spit into the street and continued, “He won't have any problem with me. I don't cotton much to those folks up at San Quentin. If Murrieta keeps his nose clean around here, I just won't see him. If you get what I mean.”

Slocum wanted to twitch, to scratch his nose, to move, but he held back. Any move on his part would bring the sheriff's attention to him. The last thing he wanted was to gun down the lawman.

“You do not pursue him?”

“Got bigger fish to fry. Let that blowhard from San Quentin retrieve his own damn prisoners.” Bernard coughed and said, “Sorry, ma'am, didn't mean to say that, but Sergeant Wilkinson gets my danger up faster 'n 'bout anyone else in these parts. Don't know for certain sure but I think he broke out my prisoner and then shot up the jail.”

“He is one of the prison guards?”

“You know he is. You been up there yourself to visit the man getting himself hanged tomorrow. Are you going to witness the execution?”

“No,” Maria said in a tiny voice Slocum could hardly make out.

“Well, ma'am, then it'll be up to me to be a witness. Seems there was some mistake made before, and they made a botch of it, but you know that, don't you?”

“You mean to torment me with this talk, Sheriff.”

“Ma'am, that's the farthest thing from my mind. Wish I could say I was just passing time with a lovely lady, but you know better.” The boots shuffled away and the clicking went to Slocum's right side, then stopped. He imagined Bernard drawing his six-gun and pointing it right at his head as he said, “Now, ma'am, you haven't seen that Jarvis fellow around, have you? Wilkinson wants him, but I want him, too, especially since he's the one Wilkinson busted out of
my
jail. That riled me something fierce.”

“Jarvis?”

“Jasper Jarvis is his cognomen. He robbed the stage and murdered all the folks on it. Now, I'd think a cold-blooded killer and road agent like that'd be two states over, but I keep getting reports of him in the area. A kidnapping, how he's planning more bedevilment. You haven't seen him, have you?”

“There is a fight starting in the saloon, Sheriff,” Maria said.

“Is there now?” Bernard cleared his throat, spit again, and then said, “You don't stick that purty nose of yours poked into anyplace where it doesn't belong, now. Hear?”

Slocum chanced a quick glimpse from under his hat. Sheriff Bernard stalked off toward the saloon, where a fight had spilled out into the street. It was hardly 8 a.m. and already the brawling had begun in town.

“Did he suspect?” Slocum asked.

“I do not think he did, John,” she said, moving to interpose her body between the retreating lawman and Slocum. “He would have tried to capture you if he had.”

Slocum considered this and decided Maria was right. Bernard wasn't the sort to pussyfoot around. Cautiously letting down the chair legs, he got to his feet and turned his back to the sheriff, still walking slowly toward the saloon and sizing up the trouble. Maria trailed him.

“I need those supplies, but you see what I do?”

“Her,” Maria said, making a sound like an angry cat. She started around Slocum but he caught her arm and held her back.

“Conchita is in town for some reason.” His mind raced. “I've got to trail her so I can find José.”

“She is—”

“This will keep Procipio safe.”

“What? I don't understand.”

“He volunteered to act as bait to get the San Quentin gates open and some of the guards outside. As an escaped prisoner, Wilkinson wants to grab him again. This is how we were going to get inside.”

“Procipio would sacrifice himself in such a way?”

“For Atencio, he would. That's got to be a mighty special gent for so many of you to risk your lives to save his.”

“Very special,” Maria said softly. A catch made her next words unintelligible.

“You get all this,” Slocum said, pulling a list with the items he needed scratched on it.

“I have so little money. How?”

“That's up to you, but if you don't get everything back to the village for Murrieta to get packed, we won't be able to get Atencio free.”

“I will do this for you.” Maria clutched the scrap of paper so hard she crumpled it. As she started away, Slocum caught her arm and swung her around.

For a moment they stared into each other's eyes. Then he kissed her.

“Get going,” he said. “I'll see you in the village when I can.”

Maria looked impish and grabbed him, giving him another kiss, one laced with promise. Then she laughed and rushed away toward the general store across the street. Slocum licked his lips and savored again the taste of the woman. Then he slipped into an alley and went toward the back of the buildings facing the street. He had guessed right. Conchita Valenzuela had tethered her horse behind the photographic studio.

She hurried from the rear door, looked around, then stepped up into the saddle. Without a seeming care in the world, Conchita rode away, heading to the road leading north out of town. Slocum took a deep breath, then fetched his own horse. He patted the stolen animal on the neck, then vaulted up and snapped the reins, trotting after Conchita. Coming to Miramar had been dangerous but was the only place Slocum had a chance of finding either Conchita or her brother.

And he needed her brother in a bad way. Real quick.

Conchita made no effort to hide her trail or avoid others on the road. She waved brightly to other travelers along the road, but Slocum hung back when she stopped greeting them and became more fixed on hunting for landmarks along the road. He was ready when she cut off the road and rode down into a ravine.

Standing in the stirrups, he got a sense where the ravine headed and galloped along to find a spot where the banks might have caved in so he could take this low road. Instead he found where Conchita left. She urged her horse up the far bank, then took a steep, gravelly incline and disappeared into low hills covered with soft grasses and low bushes.

Slocum pulled down the brim of his hat to keep the sun from distracting him as he carefully studied the entire hillside, especially the ridge running away. Anyone watching Conchita's back trail would outline himself against the blue sky. Seeing no one, he worked his way down into the ravine and up the other side, following the woman's tracks easily.

For an hour he tracked her, avoiding being seen. He often stopped to study the valley where she rode, watchful for her brother. The old man wasn't likely to be posted as lookout with his bad eyes, but Slocum worried about José.

He needn't have. At the far end of the peaceful valley with lush tufts of grass everywhere that tempted his horse, he saw a thin curl of smoke making its way into the afternoon sky. He had found the Valenzuelas' new campsite.

Cutting into the woods, he approached until his nostrils flared with the pungent scent of wood smoke. He wasn't too far off. Kicking his leg over the saddle, he dropped to the ground, considered taking his rifle, then decided his Colt was adequate for what needed to be done. As stealthily as any Apache, he came within a few feet of the dilapidated cabin that must have once belonged to a shepherd who'd tended his flock.

The rapid-fire Spanish coming from inside the cabin slowed his advance. Crouched low, he went to the back wall and pressed his eye against the rough wood until he found a chink that allowed him to peer inside. At first he wasn't sure what he saw, then realized Conchita was sitting with her back to the hole. When she moved, he caught sight of José at a table. His sister joined him at the table.

“We need more,” she said irritably. “You gave away too much to Slocum.”

“He would have killed papa if I hadn't,” protested José.

“But so much!”

Slocum scowled. The greedy bitch begrudged even two hundred dollars for her father?

“The sheriff was supposed to catch him with the money. We would have been able to steal it back. Bernard would have locked it in his desk.” José made a dismissive gesture. “Stealing from a locked desk is easier than from a bank vault.”

“But a thousand dollars!”

“That is what he demanded. Isn't papa worth that much?” José leaned forward and took his sister's hands in his. She pulled away and half turned. Slocum froze because she stared directly at him—at the crack in the wall.

When she looked back at her brother, Slocum relaxed and had to marvel at what a bunch of road agents this family was. José had cheated his own sister out of eight hundred dollars. And he looked good in his pa's eyes for paying so much in the exchange.

“I love him, but is he worth it? All he does is sleep and eat.” Conchita pointed in the direction of a corner where Slocum couldn't see. The
viejo
must have been asleep.

“At least they fed him,” José said.

“An expensive meal, if you ask me.”

“Very well. We can do
one
more robbery,” José said in resignation. “The stagecoach is too heavily guarded now. There is nothing left in the bank. What else can we rob?”