“Yeah, but I didn’t tell him what to say and he didn’t come running when he got an answer.” She wrinkled her brow. “You’re somebody. I just don’t know who. I could tell that even Peabody felt it, the way he got to his feet.”
“That was for you. Standing for a lady.”
“No. He didn’t get up until you started talking.”
He sighed. “Lady, you got you some kind of a big imagination.”
“Maybe,” she said. “And maybe not. I may not be the smartest thing on two feet, but I ain’t just come to town for the county fair either.”
“Drink your drink.”
“Are you going to let me thank you?”
He turned and looked into her eyes. They were light gray, hard to see clearly in the lamplight. It made him think of Doctor Peabody’s eyes. He still hadn’t figured out what was wrong with them. But he put Peabody out of his mind. This girl was here and very close. He could smell and feel the femaleness of her. He said, “Take a look around. You see any place private? And so far as outside, I don’t know about you but I ain’t going to take my clothes off out there. It’s cold as a well-digger’s ass. Besides, I’ve told you you don’t owe me anything.”
She leaned her head closer, bringing her face only a few inches from his. “What if I was to tell you that it ain’t got nothing to do with thanks. What if I was to tell you it was me. I told you I got that feeling the first time I saw you.”
He jerked his head away. “I appreciate the thought, but I invite you to look around again. Ain’t much privacy here.”
She smiled. “Oh, I reckon something can be worked out. Where you going to spread your bedroll?”
He nodded toward the far back corner where the fireplace was. There was about a six-foot space between the end of the big table and the roaring fire. He said, “Why, over there. Why?”
“You want me to help you spread your roll?”
He shook his head. “I been able to do that for myself for quite a long time. Never needed no help before.”
“I think you need help. And I’m the girl can give it.” She brought her lips to his. Gently her tongue forced its way into his mouth, and her arms tightened around his neck. For a long moment they kissed. He could feel a pounding in his temple and feel desire rising through his body. When she pulled back he was panting slightly. He said, “What in hell did you do that for? Get me all aroused and then nothing can be done. Hell!”
“We’ll see,” she said. She leaned down and kissed him again, a brief but passionate kiss that brought his arousal up another notch. Then she stepped back. “Put your bedroll down. Sleep tight.”
He felt the light touch of her hands on the back of his neck disappear, and then, before he could reach out for her, she had turned and was gone. In a few steps she reached the door to the Higginses’ living quarters, opened the door, and slipped inside. He saw the door firmly close behind her. “Son of a bitch!” he said in a half whisper. She had left him feeling like an unexploded firecracker. Taken all in all, he’d just as soon she’d kept her match to herself and not lit his fuse if she wasn’t going to take it all the way. But then, he thought, maybe she intended that the kiss be her thanks. If that was the case, she set a mighty high store by her kisses.
He said “Hell!” out loud, and then turned his glass up and finished his drink. Hers sat untouched. It was watered, but he didn’t care. He took it down in two gulps, and then got off the high stool he’d been sitting on. It was late. And getting later. The best thing he could do was spread his bedroll and get what sleep he could. He crossed to his saddle, untied his rolled blankets, and took them and his saddle over in front of the fire. The stones of the fireplace were just starting to heat up and spread warmth. It felt good. The inside of the station had grown cold as the night had worn on.
He got his blankets arranged to where he was in the shadow of the end of the table and a couple of yards from the fire. He didn’t want to get too warm at first and then freeze when the fire burned down. He set his saddle at the end of his bedroll for a pillow. After that he looked around. There were still two lanterns burning, and he went to each and turned down the wick until they went out. Then, by the light of the fireplace, he went back to his bed, sat down on the hard floor, and took his boots off. He was pleased that his feet were not as tender as he had expected. He thought, however, that he would leave his socks on for extra protection.
He took off his gunbelt and laid it carefully beside his saddle. His gunbelt featured a big silver concave belt buckle. It was big and it was concave for a reason. Inside the buckle, held by a steel clip, was a two-shot .38- caliber derringer. He made sure the little gun was still secured safely before he tucked the gunbelt half under his saddle with the big Colt .44-caliber revolver with the six-inch barrel sticking out where it was quick to hand. After that he took off his hat and his shirt and laid them ready to hand. He unbuckled the belt that held up his jeans and unbuttoned the first few buttons, but he didn’t take them off. Normally he would have slept naked, but he might not be up and dressed before the Higginses came out. Even though he wouldn’t be as comfortable, he figured it was better to at least keep his pants on. He got under two blankets with just one and his slicker between the hard, wooden floor. It didn’t much matter to him. He could sleep on the top of a flagpole if he was tired enough, and he was plenty tired after his trip across the desert.
He got himself settled, lying on his side, facing the fire. Normally he went right off to sleep, but the girl was bothering him. She could have gone a month or more without getting him as fired up as she had. Well, he thought, maybe she didn’t know any better and was just trying to be nice. And then there was always Phoenix. They would both be heading in that direction, and a good opportunity might present itself to take the situation beyond a kiss that had been like liquid fire.
He squirmed around and tried to turn his mind in a different direction. He thought of Carl Lowe, wondering where he was and just what job he had been broken out of prison to perform. Maybe he hadn’t been assisted in the break, and even if he had, maybe it hadn’t been for a purpose. But Longarm was damn hard pressed to believe anything to the contrary. Somewhere, someplace up the road was a safe or a strongbox just waiting for Carl Lowe’s touch. Longarm felt extremely frustrated that all he could do was lie on the floor in a relay station and wait.
And then there was Doctor Peabody. Longarm could not imagine anyone, even a doctor from Baltimore, Maryland, trying to perform an examination on a passel of whores in a moving stage in the middle of the Arizona badlands. And doing it just before they were to get to a relay station where he could be conveniently put off the stage. He was supposed to have been drunk, but Longarm didn’t believe that anyone ever got that drunk.
He lifted his head off his saddle and shook it. Hell, either he’d had too much of Higgins’s bad whiskey, or he was getting an imagination like a five-year-old kid. He was jumpy, sure enough, and Miss Rita Ann hadn’t helped matters in the slightest with her kiss and her promise. Hell!
