'Honey,' a melodious voice said, 'you look like you been dragged through a knothole ass backward.'
Longarm pulled his Winchester and saddlebags from the coach and turned to see who had spoken to him. He blinked and then smiled. 'Betsy?'
She was big and exceedingly buxom, with long blond hair and cute double chins that wagged when she nodded her head. With a squeal of delight, Betsy grabbed Longarm and locked him in a crushing embrace, mashing his lips into his teeth.'Honey,' she yelled, loud enough for half of Wickenburg to hear, 'I just arrived from Santa Fe and was planning to go on over to San Diego tomorrow or the next day!'
Longarm struggled free. 'Why, Betsy, you have grown!'
She giggled and pranced with the lightness of a draft horse. 'I have put on a few extra pounds,' she admitted, 'but you always said you liked your women big and strong.'
Longarm didn't recall saying that. Betsy York, when last he'd seen her some five years before in a place he couldn't exactly remember, had been about a hundred pounds lighter. But she still wore the same overpowering perfume and had that same raucous laugh that started at the belly and floated through her nostrils to make them quiver like bowstrings.
'Well,' Longarm said. 'It's been quite a while, all right. How have you been?'
'Missin' a man like you, honey-pie! Where are we staying tonight?'
Longarm gulped. 'Well, listen, Betsy,' he said, not wishing to hurt her feelings but definitely not up to spending the night in bed with this behemoth. 'I... I'm just all dogged out and I was planning to get a good night's sleep and...'
'Aw, we can sleep in the grave!' she howled, slipping her thick, bracelet-ringed arm around his waist and dragging him up to his toes. 'I got a nice room in the Baltimore Hotel and a great big bed that we can fill up together.'
'Shhh!' Longarm said, noticing how everyone was staring. 'Really, Betsy, I need some rest.'
'Then you shall have it! Come on up to my room, stretch out, and let me call the hotel desk for a bath and some champagne. Honey, have you got any money?'
'Some, but...'
'Good!'
'But what about your trip to San Diego?'
'Oh, hell,' Betsy said, waving off the thought, 'this stagecoach leaves bright and early every morning. I can go there any old time, but I sure can't wait to get re-acquainted with an old lover-boy like YOU.'
Had he not been so tired and his defenses at an all-time low, Longarm would have broken free and insisted that he get his own room. Then he would have somehow managed to avoid Betsy York until she tired of waiting for him while he found and arrested Hal Brodie.
'Listen, Betsy, I...'
'Here,' she said, 'I'll carry that rifle and those saddlebags. You just look plumb tuckered out.'
'I am about to fall asleep on my feet, Betsy.'
'Well, then, let's get you to bed. Want a meal and a bath first?'
'I could use both.'
'Give me some money and I'll order us a couple of chickens brought up from this wonderful restaurant that I ever saw. It smelled so good I was droolin' as I passed. They got a sign in the window saying you can buy a whole fried chicken for one dollar. I expect we could each eat one or two.'
'Yeah,' Longarm said weakly as she led him away from the stagecoach office.
Twenty minutes later, Longarm was soaking in a bathtub devouring a couple of chicken wings and drumsticks while Betsy did the major damage on the three chickens that had been sent up to their room.
'Well, honey, you've gotten a little skinnier and I've gotten a little fatter since we last were together,' Betsy said, wiping the grease from her lips with the back of her arm. 'But I'll bet that we're still a pair of frisky lovers.'
'Betsy, I told you that I was just wrung out. I doubt that I could be any fun at all tonight.'
'Well, we'll just see about that!' she said, giggling.
Longarm finished his bath, and washed the chicken down with champagne that Betsy had ordered to mark this occasion.
'Here,' she said, bringing him a towel when he was all done. 'Just climb out of that tub and let Mama pat you dry.'
'I can dry myself,' he said, stifling a yawn.
'Of course you can! But you'll like it better when I do it for you.'
Longarm stood up in the tub and let Betsy dry his hair and then work down across his chest. She was grinning and thoroughly enjoying herself, moving around him like she was polishing a bronze statue. He had to admit that, as she rubbed his body briskly with the towel, he did feel revived. In fact he revived too much, because Betsy howled and pointed at his thickening manhood.
'Would you look at that young man stand at attention and give Mama a salute!'
Longarm glanced down and saw that he was betrayed by an erection. 'It's just that you've been rubbing it,' he said lamely. 'it doesn't mean anything.'
'Of course it does!'
