according to Asa, muddied the water somewhat. That put a personal grudge into the pot--a pot that didn't need any more ingredients in it. As far as Longarm could tell, he was in about the messiest situation he had ever been in. The people he was investigating and was going to arrest were of varying degrees of guilt. If he could lay his hands on the Treasury officials, he would be content with them. Them and Morton Colton and then the law in the town of Little Rock that had been taking the bribes. In his heart, he didn't feel that Asa Colton and his clan were all that guilty. Hell, he didn't see how anybody could be defrauded out of much with that grade of whiskey.
Still, it was his job, and there were no two ways about it. The law was black and white; there were no gray areas.
He was looking out the window of the cabin when he saw five or six men walk from one of the outbuildings and disappear into the house. He looked at his watch. It was two-thirty. It was, he decided, about time to go to the cornfield. He dreaded it. He knew it was wrong. He tried to argue with himself, but it was all to no avail. That black thatch that hid the pink, warm, moist flesh was too firmly imprinted in his mind. He could no more turn away from that than he could turn away from a meal if he was starving to death.
He left the cabin, walking away from the big house and then circling south away from all the outbuildings. This time, he entered the cornfield at the opposite end from where he had gone in before. He walked as quietly as he could on the soft hay. The corn was tall enough now to shade him from the warm sun. It was a beautiful day, almost cloudless, but at an altitude where there was a very pleasant cool breeze. He crept along the rows, glancing left and right, not sure which row he had been in with Sally. He caught a little flash of color through the green stalks. He walked on another ten or twenty yards and then cut across. As soon as he stepped into the row, he glanced to the left.
He saw her lying on her back, her dress up and her legs apart, just as she had said. He had left his gun belt back in the cabin. All he had to do now was unbuckle his jeans and unbutton them and he'd be ready. He walked toward her. She raised her head slightly and looked at him. It was just as he remembered. The creamy white of her inner thighs, the black bush, just enough of her soft belly--she had taken her bodice down so that her breasts were standing erect and thrusting. He knew that they were as firm as pears. She made little waving motions at him to hurry as he came toward her.
He got to her and then stood looking down at her for a moment, saliva coming fresh and fast to his mouth. He dropped down to his knees and then put his face down to taste her. She was already warm and moist. She made a moan and then thrust her hips up as his tongue explored the inside of her, brushing away the silken hairs with the slightest motion. Already, he could hear her quickened breath.
She said, urgently, 'Now. Now. Now.'
He entered her, his penis sliding deep, deep, and deeper into her. She clung and gripped him. He leaned down on her, kissing her breasts, and then clasped his mouth onto hers. She was thrusting her hips so hard upward that he almost didn't have to move. He knew this time that he wasn't going to be able to hold it.
He was pulling his mouth back from hers to say, 'Honey, I've got to hold up a minute,' but by the time he could say it, it was too late. He could feel the juices pumping into her with big, throbbing ejaculations.
Then he went weak and collapsed. He tried to whisper in her ear. He said, 'I'm sorry. I couldn't help it.'
She just crooned to him and smoothed his hair and said, 'That be all right. I understand. I choose you. There'll be plenty of other times.'
When he could, he raised himself up and pulled on his jeans and buckled his belt and fastened the buttons. He looked down at her. She was wearing that same solemn but tender expression. He said, 'Sally, I couldn't help myself. I've been thinking about you all day. I was just too ready.'
She pulled herself up and then stood up and then leaned down and put one of her breasts in his mouth and then the other. She kissed him on the mouth, her tongue probing. She said, 'There'll be another time, right quick. I can stand it until then.'
'Honey, this is dangerous. Sally, we can't keep doing this. There's too many people around here. They'll catch us.'
'Don't you worry. I done chose you. You just be ready when I come there. You just be ready.' Then she was gone, as quickly as before, slipping between the stalks of corn and then disappearing.
For a moment, he stayed where he was. If anything, he was more confused than he had been earlier. He could not imagine how he was going to arrest the father of such a girl as Sally. After a while, he shook his head and walked slowly out of the cornfield. As he emerged into the clear, he glanced toward the house. He saw a figure out near one of the barns. He couldn't recognize the man, but he looked a great deal like either Mark or John. He chose not to invite a confrontation or questions, so he veered to the south and walked around the outbuildings toward his cabin. If it had been Mark, he would have questions. Longarm was just going to answer him that he was interested in the kind of corn they used in their whiskey. It wouldn't be a very good answer, because Longarm knew as much about corn as he did about living in New York City.
But his biggest fear was about the kind of man he reckoned Mark to be. If there came a confrontation between them, Longarm doubted that it would be settled with words, and if he had to kill Mark Colton, he was fairly certain that would put an end to his investigation into the illegal whiskey business. The best he could hope to do was somehow stay out of the way of the man and his wrath. Mark had made it clear that he didn't care much for Longarm, that he was suspicious, that he was on the prod. Longarm had to admit to himself that the man had good instincts. He was suspicious for good reason.
That night, Sally sat across the table from him at supper and never glanced his way. He could see and sense Mark watching the two of them. He wished for a change that she would look at him. This sudden reversal of habit had to tell Mark something.
He tried to carry it off as best as he could by talking to Asa about the whiskey business and about how much he could cut the strong, raw whiskey and still make a decent corn bourbon. It was Asa's belief that he could take the distilled liquor and turn it into twice as much. The old man, however, was curious as to just how Longarm was going to get around the federal whiskey stamps. Longarm just tried to look wise and pretend that he had a way. He said, 'A lot of empty whiskey bottles in Arizona, Mr. Colton. You'd be surprised how many saloon owners I know.'
Colton chuckled. He said, 'Well, Mr. Long, it might surprise you that I wouldn't be surprised that you would know a good many saloon owners. You look like a man who could be found in one, every now and then.'
After supper, Longarm played checkers with the man for a couple of hours, finding him a surprisingly good player. They were playing for a dollar a game, and the old man had managed to win fourteen dollars off Longarm. Mr. Colton said, 'Aw, shucks. You're just lettin' me win so I'll sell you some whiskey. I've already told you I'll sell you the whiskey. You don't just got to give up.' Then he giggled like it was all a good joke.
