stiffened, fingernails raking his back and buttocks as she pulled him down deep into her core, thrashing and thrusting.
They went limp, gasping and clutching, quivering and savoring the last moments of their lusty union.
Later, as they were getting ready to go out and have dinner, Dolly grabbed Longarm’s sleeve at the door and said, “You will come back and take me to New Orleans, won’t you? I mean, you weren’t just saying that so you could do it to me again, were you? I would have anyway, you know.”
“I know.”
Dolly looked so sweet and vulnerable that Longarm gathered her in his arms and said, “I give you my word that I’ll take you with me to New Orleans.”
She let out a little squeal of delight and about broke his neck again. “You really do mean it this time, don’t you?!”
“I do,” Longarm said, really meaning it. “We’ll just have a hell of a lot of fun. And, besides, you deserve to see something other than Denver and the nearby mining towns. It’d be good to open your eyes to other enjoyable places and experiences.”
“I can hardly wait!”
Longarm disengaged himself. “Then we’ll do it.”
Before he could open the door, Dolly grabbed his hand. “This outlaw that you’re going after, is he really dangerous?”
“Billy Vail thinks so.”
“Please be careful!”
“I always am,” Longarm assured her. “So don’t worry. Just take care of your own self while I’m gone and dream of the French Quarter.”
“I would have thought that was some coin or something,” Dolly admitted with a laugh. “Not a place. I mean, a quarter is money, right?”
“Right.”
Dolly slipped her arm through his arm, and when they marched down the hall and out onto the street, she turned heads just like always. Longarm felt happy and proud. He wasn’t ever going to marry and there was that old friend in Prescott that he was eager to see again, but when he was in Denver, Dolly was his girl and that suited him right down to the ground.
Longarm caught the Denver and Rio Grande the next day, a bit worse for wear due to a strenuous night of lovemaking. No matter, he could sleep on the train and be rested enough when he finally connected with the Santa Fe Railroad that would take him through Albuquerque and then all the way to Ash Fork, Arizona. From Ash Fork, he would probably buy a ticket and ride a stagecoach down to Prescott. Once in Prescott, he’d see what could be immediately done about Hank Bass, then he’d rent a good saddle horse and head for Wickenburg. After that, his plans were completely dependent upon what he found and what the circumstances required.
“Bye-bye!” Dolly called from the railroad platform as Longarm collapsed in his seat beside the window. “Love you!”
Longarm was so pooped that the best he could do was manage a weary smile as the train jerked into a fitful start then rolled south toward Colorado Springs, then Pueblo.
Longarm slept right through Colorado Springs and Pueblo. He didn’t wake up until after darkness had fallen on southern Colorado and by then he felt rested and ravenous.
“Porter!” he called to an impeccably uniformed railroad employee.
“Yes, sir?”
“I was wondering if it was too late to get something to eat in the dining car.”
“No, sir. Most people have already eaten, but there’s a few in there, and you’ll have no trouble getting served.”
Longarm was relieved at this good news. Knuckling sleep from his eyes and smoothing his clothes, he made his way to the dining car. As promised, it was still half full of passengers, a number of them loudly enjoying a second or even third bottle of wine.
“Evening, sir!” a waiter said in greeting. “Can I take your order?”
“What’s the chef’s special tonight?”
“Fried chicken, ‘tatoes and gravy, corn on the cob, and French bread, with apple pie for dessert.”
“I’ll take it.”
Longarm was famished and ate nearly an entire loaf of the delicious French bread even before the dinner arrived. Having slept through breakfast and made love with Dolly almost until noon without food, he had some catching up to do.
“You certainly seem to be enjoying your supper,” a cultured feminine voice said as he started in on his dessert.
With his fork loaded with pie, Longarm twisted around to see a stylish woman in her mid-thirties eyeing him with more than a passing interest. She was dressed to the nines, with what appeared to be real diamond earrings and a pearl necklace. Her hair was an auburn swirl and her complexion was as clear as African ivory. She was not as young or as beautiful as Dolly St. Claire, but this woman had her own unique appeal.
Longarm lowered his fork. “I guess my table manners aren’t the best this evening. Please excuse me for eating like a track layer.”
“Oh,” she said with a faint smile, “I’ve always enjoyed watching a hungry man enjoy his food. My father and brothers were farmers, and they ate like starving wolves. Mother was always cooking, and it seemed as if I was
