Smoking cigars and having another brandy with Thorp and Booth was enjoyable enough, but Longarm didn’t want to linger too long. “I’d best be heading back to town so I can get some sleep,” he said after a few minutes. “I’ll be out here around sunup in the morning, Mr. Thorp.”
“That’ll be fine, Marshal,” Thorp said with a nod. “Is there anything you’ll need?”
“Well, if you’ve got a good Winchester I could borrow, I’m without a saddle gun. That rented nag of mine ran off with mine when he spooked yesterday. I was hoping he might wander into Cottonwood Springs so I could get my rig back, but that doesn’t look like it’s going to happen.”
“I’ve got plenty of spare rifles, and you’re welcome to use one of them.”
“Better yet,” Lord Beechmuir said, “I’d be delighted to have you use one of my guns, Marshal Long. Have you ever fired a Markham & Halliday elephant gun?”
“No, sir, can’t say as I have,” Longarm replied dryly.
“Quite a magnificent weapon, don’t you know! If you need to drop a charging rogue elephant in its tracks, you couldn’t want a better gun.”
Longarm coughed discreetly. “I appreciate the offer, your lordship, but I reckon that’d be a mite too much power for me to handle. I’ll stick with a Winchester ‘73.”
“Certainly. A man should be comfortable with his weapons, I always say.”
Longarm looked around for his hat, not quite sure where he had put it, but Ghote was suddenly there, holding out the Stetson to him. Longarm took it from the servant, who seemed to move about as quietly as a Comanche in the dark of the moon. He settled the hat on his head, nodded to Thorp and Booth, and said, “I’ll see you gents in the morning. Say good night to Lady Beechmuir for me.”
“Indeed I shall,” Booth assured him.
Earlier in the day, Thorp had had Longarm’s Appaloosa taken down to the barns, unsaddled, rubbed down, and grained and watered. Longarm headed down the hill now, figuring he could find one of the ranch hands around the barns who could tell him where to locate the horse. He was only halfway down the hill, however, making his way past a grove of oaks, when a soft voice stopped him.
“Good evening, Marshal Long,” Helene Booth said from the shadows underneath the trees.
Longarm stopped and turned toward the oaks. Instinctively he reached up and gave the brim of his hat a polite tug. “Evenin’, ma’am,” he said. “Pardon my asking, but what might you be doing out here in the dark?”
“Getting a breath of air.” He saw movement in the shadows as she came closer to him. “It’s a lovely night, don’t you think?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Longarm said. And it was. The air was crisp with autumn coolness and clear enough so that every star overhead seemed to sparkle individually.
“Would you be kind enough to stroll with me for a moment?” asked Helene.
“Well, ma’am, I’m sure your husband would be glad to take a walk with you. I just left him up at the house.”
Longarm was taking a step back toward the house as he spoke, but Lady Beechmuir stopped him by saying, “I’ve just spent several interminable days cramped up in a wagon with my husband, Marshal Long. I’ve had an abundance of his company, thank you very much.”
“I was just on my way to get my horse and head back to town,” he said.
“Surely you can spare me a few minutes, Custis. Do your friends call you that? I shall call you Custis.”
She didn’t sound like she would tolerate any argument on the subject, so he just nodded and said, “That’d be fine, ma’am.”
“And you simply must stop calling me ma’am!”
“All right … your ladyship.”
She made a noise of exasperation. “We’re not in England now, Custis. My name is Helene. Call me whatever you would call any other frontier woman in these circumstances.”
“Well, I’d likely call her missus,” said Longarm.
Helene laughed and stepped even closer to him. She was on the edge of the shadows now, and he could see her much better. He could smell her too, a heady mixture of the brandy on her breath, the perfume she wore, and an undeniable undercurrent of woman-scent. Just taking a deep breath around her, Longarm thought, was enough to get a man all hot and bothered.
“Call me Helene,” she said, and again her tone brooked no argument. “Please, take my hand and walk with me.” She held out her hand toward him.
He might get away from here quicker and easier if he just played along with her for a spell, Longarm figured. Besides, he hardly ever ran the other way when a beautiful woman wanted to flirt with him, even one who was married, although he did try to steer clear of causing serious trouble between a husband and wife. He reached out and took her hand. What could she do? he asked himself. Try to seduce him right here within sight of the house where she and her husband were staying? Didn’t seem likely.
Which only went to show how wrong a gent could be sometimes, he realized a moment after he had stepped into the gloom underneath the trees with Lady Beechmuir. She had her mouth pressed hotly to his and was rubbing those noble curves all over him.
Longarm was taken by surprise, so when she practically lunged against him, it was natural enough that his arms went around her. And when her hot, wet tongue speared between his lips to invade his mouth and fence with his own tongue, it was only to be expected that his shaft would spring to attention and prod its hard length against her soft flesh. She ground her belly against him, moaning low in her throat as she felt the size of him through his trousers and her gown.
Longarm managed to get his mouth away from hers long enough to say breathlessly, “Hold on there!”
