himself on his hands and watched her through slitted eyes as he poured his climax into her. The tell-tale flush of her own culmination spread across her chest above the bobbing breasts.
Exhaustion washed over him in an inexorable tide. Barely able to keep himself from collapsing on top of her, he rolled to the side and sprawled on the bed next to her. For a few moments, he had forgotten how hot the nights could be here along the Rio Grande, but now he realized that he was covered with sweat and so was Anna Marie. As he tried to catch his breath, he said, “Wonder if we could ... get a tub of water up here ... so we could take a bath.”
“I think perhaps it could be arranged,” she said as she snuggled against his side and slid the palm of her hand over his chest and the flat stomach beneath it to the thicket of dark hair around his now-soft manhood. She leaned her head closer to him and her teeth nipped playfully at his ear. “I think we could even find a tub large enough for both of us to bathe at the same time.”
“Sounds like a good idea to me,” said Longarm. He grinned. “Saves water that way.”
Only, what with one thing and another, they splashed out a considerable amount of the water that was carried up in buckets by Mexican servants and dumped in the big tin tub the night clerk brought up. And Longarm wound up not getting to sleep until well after midnight.
But when he finally dozed off, he was scrubbed clean and so sated that he figured he might not ever want to make love again.
Thankfully, by morning he was over that feeling. In fact, he woke up wishing that Anna Marie was still beside him. But she had slipped out sometime far into the night to return to her own room at Kilroy’s. Just as well, Longarm told himself grumpily as he dragged out of bed and splashed clean water on his face from the basin on the dresser. He had work to do this morning.
The orders he had been given in Denver by Henry, Billy Vail’s clerk, stated that the American delegation headed by Franklin Barton would arrive this morning on a special stagecoach. Likewise, the coach carrying Don Alfredo Guiterrez and the other members of the Mexican delegation was supposed to be pulling into Ciudad Acuna, Del Rio’s sister city across the Rio Grande, by midday. Longarm felt fairly confident that Barton and the other diplomats from Washington would show up on schedule. He was less sure that the Mexicans would be on time. Mexico City was closer to the border than Washington, but the country in between was a lot rougher and had more potential for delays. Both groups knew they were supposed to meet at this hotel, so Longarm figured to stick fairly close unless circumstances warranted otherwise.
He shaved, put on a clean shirt, and went downstairs to have breakfast in the hotel dining room. The smell of coffee made him perk up, as did the sight of a buxom blond waitress in a starched apron. She hurried up to the table he had chosen and gave him a friendly smile as he sat down.
“Coffee?” she asked.
“Black and hot and plenty of it,” said Longarm. He glanced at a menu chalked on a blackboard on the wall behind the counter and went on. “Bring me a stack of flapjacks, a pile of fried potatoes, and as much bacon as you can fit onto the plate around ‘em. Better have a steak and some gravy on the side too.”
“Goodness, you must be hungry this morning.” The woman’s smile widened. “What did you do last night to work up such an appetite, sir?”
Longarm patted his belly and returned her grin. “I’m just a growing boy,” he said, though he hadn’t been a boy of any kind since he’d left the mountains of West-by-God Virginia all those years ago, during the Late Unpleasantness.
The waitress laughed and hurried off to begin filling his order. Longarm glanced around the dining room. It was early, with sunrise still a quarter hour away, but quite a few customers were seated at the tables scattered around the room. More men were sitting at the counter. Most of the diners were townsmen who probably stopped here for breakfast every day before going on to their businesses. Longarm saw a few cowboys, all of whom seemed to have hangovers. The lawman chuckled as he noted the greenish tinge on their faces. He remembered all too well what it was like to be young and sick as a dog from too much Who-hit-John the night before.
He had been sitting there only a few minutes when a big figure loomed in the arched entrance that led to the hotel lobby. Lazarus Coffin had a scowl on his face, and the townsmen who glanced at him looked away quickly, unwilling to meet his squinty-eyed glare. Coffin spotted Longarm and started across the room toward the table, moving stiffly as if his muscles were sore. Longarm knew that feeling quite well too. He had some aches and pains this morning from the ruckus with Coffin the night before.
“You seen Anna Marie?” Coffin demanded as he came up to the table. “I never did find her last night so’s I could tell her how sorry I am.”
“Haven’t seen hide nor hair of her this morning,” Longarm replied truthfully. He hoped Coffin wouldn’t press the issue. The last thing he wanted was another brawl with the massive Texas Ranger. With a wave at the chair on the other side of the table, Longarm said, “Have a seat and join me for breakfast.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” said Coffin. “I’m so damn hungry my belly thinks my throat’s been cut.” As he sat down, he turned his head in the general direction of the counter and bellowed, “Coffee, damn it!”
Longarm saw the cowboys wince as Coffin’s roar assaulted their fragile senses. Coffin looked a little green around the gills himself, but if he was feeling the effects of too much whiskey the night before, he seemed determined not to let it bother him. Longarm asked, “You got any thoughts on how we ought to go about the job that brought us both here?”
“You mean-“ Coffin began loudly, then stopped, remembering that Longarm didn’t want a lot of talk about the specifics of their mission. Lowering his voice, he continued. “I figured we’d just corral them old boys here in the hotel.”
Longarm nodded. “That was my thought too. They ain’t coming here to sightsee, so they might as well stay inside and get their work done.”
The blond waitress approached the table tentatively carrying a tray that contained a pot of coffee and two cups. She set it on the table and then scurried back a couple of steps, as if afraid that Coffin would lash out at her. The Ranger didn’t seem to notice how badly he’d spooked her.
“Damn well about time,” muttered Coffin as he filled one of the cups and then passed the coffeepot to Longarm. Longarm took it carefully, using the piece of leather that was wrapped around the handle to keep from burning his fingers. While Longarm was filling his own cup, Coffin slurped down about half of the blistering hot brew, then smacked his lips. “Not quite strong enough, but I reckon it’ll do.”
Any stronger and it would have eaten a hole in the cup, Longarm thought as he sipped the stuff.
