in, and he hadn't taken her to a paid-for supper and vaudeville show. So he figured he'd better not try to kiss her good night, no matter how tempting she was smelling in the balmy night air. So he was more than surprised when it was Norma who hauled him on inside and husked, 'Don't strike a match. We don't need any lamplight, and I'd as soon not have anyone gossiping about us, Custis.'
Before he could ask what there might be to gossip about she was on tiptoe against him, kissing him in a far from motherly way. So there was plenty to gossip about as soon as he'd swept her up in his arms and carried her over to the bed.
But as he lowered her Junoesque form to the bedspread Longarm felt it only fair to murmur, 'You did hear me say I'm fixing to pay three passages south on the next coastal steamer, didn't you?'
She murmured back, 'I did, and I'll be headed the other way as soon as they repair the telegraph and I can wire for a real medical team to fight that plague. Did you think I'd be this bold with any man if I thought we had time for the usual flowers, books, and candy?'
So seeing she seemed to share some of his own ideas on grabbing life's few brass rings while the merry-go- round was still going, he just helped her out of her white linens, shucked his own duds, and took her up on her fine offer.
She hissed in mingled anxiety and pleasure as he spread her big thighs and entered her tighter-than-usual but unusually hairy ring-dang-do. The nice thing about gals with big firm butts was that you didn't need to shove a pillow under them to ride just right in their love saddle. She seemed to think they fit together just right too. She commenced to move under him with a skill that belied her girlish remarks about never having met a man so big before. He felt no call to swear she was his first and only. So he just got an elbow under each of her plump knees and proceeded to pound her good as she moaned, 'Oh, Jesus! Yes! But I'm not going to fall in love again! I'm not! I'm not! I'm just going to fuck like a rabbit till I can't fuck you anymore, you lovely fucking machine!'
But that wasn't what they were doing a half hour later, according to the orderly who reported in to Lieutenant Flynn, hit a brace, and barely managed not to grin as he said, 'Begging the lieutenant's pardon, that civilian lawman you sent me to escort to his guest quarters doesn't seem to need any... of his own.'
Flynn stared up from his desk thoughtfully and coldly replied, 'Don't beat around the bush with me, Yeoman. Whose quarters did you find him in, if not the ones I just assigned him? There's only one woman on this post and... are you sure?'
The orderly said, 'Ay, ay, sir. They couldn't see me as listened through her jalousie slats to make sure. I didn't know she had company, of course, before I heard them in passing as I was searching for that deputy as the lieutenant ordered.'
Flynn smiled slightly, a rare sight in the yeoman's experience, and asked, 'You're certain she hadn't just invited him in for, say, a nightcap, Yeoman?'
His informant said simply, 'Begging the lieutenant's pardon, it sounded like she was sucking him off. Would the lieutenant like me to call out the guard now?'
Flynn shook his sandy head without hesitation and purred, 'Belay that. They're both civilians, albeit both federal employees. So why don't we give them all the rope they want, and report them to their own superiors as soon as those damned wires are back up.'
CHAPTER 12
So a good time was had by all, and Norma said it was a good thing she was riding sidesaddle as they rode out at the crack of dawn after hardly any sleep. She'd changed into a more practical riding habit of tan whipcord from her Saratoga trunk, although she said she hoped to have a fresh white uniform from the laundry in town on tap as soon as they got her back to her fever ward.
Longarm was right about the country rising drier on the far side of that inland trail he'd followed down from Corpus Christi. He was right about them being forced to have coffee and cake, at least, at the half-dozen spreads they managed to visit along the way. But all the stock they passed seemed fit enough in the bright morning light.
Then, just as Longarm was about convinced the lying Baldwin must have trailed sick stock up out of Old Mexico, they met two rancheros in a row who said they'd had their own branded stock returned to them by Constable Purvis after that surprisingly honest Mister Doyle had thrown down on that cow thief.
Longarm let it go the first time, but asked the second stockman with the same story why he'd been so surprised to hear Pryce & Doyle were honest meat packers.
He was told, 'Oh, nobody never said they was outright crooks. But few of us like to do business with such hard bargainers. We ain't no ignorant greasers raising cows for hides and tallow. We read the market quotations in the newspapers the same as everyone else, and it's no secret the price of beef is up, way up, this year.'
Longarm nodded and said, 'Pryce & Doyle don't want to pay the going rates?'
To which the Texican replied with a scowl, 'They ain't willing to pay last year's rates. They seem to feel they got a monopoly here as the only meat packers within miles. But I've been driving my own beef up to Corpus Christi on the hoof. It may be a bother, and I may have had to hire some extra hands, but fair is fair and I'd as soon break even selling beef in Corpus Christi than get slickered by damn Yankees rich enough to make their own damned ice!'
They thanked the irate stockman for the information and rode on. They crossed that same tidal creek, and Longarm showed her where Consuela's dad had been attacked by that gator. Norma said she doubted reptiles caught Malta fever, and that even if they did, it hadn't ought to make them go mad like dogs with hydrophobia.
As they got into town they parted friendly, or at least as friendly as Victorian folks felt proper in public. She made him promise to drop by her fever ward before he left town again, whether he found out anything more about the plague or not.
Longarm was more worried about lying cow thieves who might or might not have back-shooting pals still out there. So while he still hoped to tie the gang into any infected stock from Old Mexico, he headed back to that chandlery on the waterfront to mostly ask old Gordo if anyone ever called him Chino.
This time the reception was friendlier. The fat chandler hauled Longarm into the back, and sat him at a kitchen table to pour him some pulque and yell at his womenfolk for some grub for their guest.
When Longarm said he'd been eating all morning, Gordo insisted he have something anyway, explaining, 'A messenger from Corpus Christi got through to us a few minutes after you had left, El Brazo Largo. I hope you won't tell La Bruja we were rude to you on purpose!'
