Arkansas Assault

“Us. But that’s because old Noah decided to keep us around for a while.”

“He’s a damned good hunter,” Aaron said, watching his own cigarette being rolled. “I have to give him that.”

“And nobody’s ever figured out how to slip past the dogs?” Fargo said.

“They aren’t dogs,” Nancy said. “They’re devils from hell. I know that sounds dramatic but I half suspect it’s true. They’re a lot craftier than most of the people I know.”

“I’d rather be killed by old Noah than by those dogs,” Stephanie said.

Nancy said, “We saw a man get ripped apart by them one day. By the time they finished with him, he looked like a side of beef. There wasn’t enough of him left together to even tell he was human.” She shuddered at the memory.

“They ever threaten to turn on Burgade?” Fargo said.

The ladies thought it over.

“Once, the one named Hellion turned and snapped at him,” Nancy said. “Burgade cracked him with the whip across the back. Put a real deep wound in him. That’s the closest I’ve ever seen the dogs getting after Burgade.”

“Noah trained those dogs himself,” Aaron said. “I couldn’t stand to see or hear the way he raised them. He beat them ’til they bled. They were dangerous even when they were puppies, the way he treated them. By now they’ve got to be crazed. Burgade can’t be any better for them than Noah was.”

When Aaron got his cigarette, he lay on the fourth cot.

Fargo laid down, too. “We had a long night, ladies. What we need is a little sleep.”

Stephanie laughed. “I can think of a couple of things I need, Mr. Fargo.” She stared unabashedly at his crotch. Even as exhausted as he was, close proximity to these two made it impossible for his manhood to rest. It bulked up the tight area of his pants.

Nancy was no different. “I was noticing the same thing you were, Sis.”

“God, ladies, I really do need a rest.”

Aaron rumbled. “I need sleep. How about some silence?”

He rolled over, his back to the three of them.

Both gals stuck their tongues out at him and then grinned at Fargo.

Nancy winked at Fargo. He wasn’t sure why but in the next few minutes he learned that Nancy knew her sister very well. Both Stephanie and Aaron fell asleep.

Nancy put a shhh-ing finger to her lips and then tiptoed over to him, making as little noise as she could given the situation.

“We’ll have to be very quiet,” she whispered in his ear.

She began by leading on tiptoes to the east corner of the cabin where he managed to work her jeans down to the middle of her thighs. She faced away from him and was able to spread her legs just enough that Fargo could ease his large and eager rod into the moist and magnificent opening to her womanhood.

He had never before trysted with so many restrictions on him. He couldn’t move too quickly or their shackles would make noise. He couldn’t speak or moan. And she had all the same restrictions.

But he found it very satisfying. He reached up under her blouse and cupped his hand over one of her breasts, both of them surging when contact was made. And the excitement of this moment helped them find the right pace that both of them could share and enjoy.

He quietly worked himself far up inside her, her round buttocks working against his body, only enhancing his desire. She was able to turn her face so that his tongue could slide into her mouth. The increasing urgency pushed even him further up inside her and her muscles there contracted, driving him to the brink of sanity.

They pressed together so tight that when release came he fell against her and continued grinding into her. She didn’t want to stop and he didn’t, either.

Finally they slid to the floor and lay on their backs, a sweaty pile of purely pleased humanity.

Fargo was awakened by the violent barking of the dogs. They’d been barking on and off, but from some distance, so he’d been able to pack in three hours of sleep. But this barking was right outside the door of the cabin. He jerked up from deep sleep, momentarily disoriented.

The sisters and Aaron Tillman were just waking up, too.

“I wish I had a gun,” Aaron said grumpily, rubbing sleep from his face. “Right now I’d kill those dogs even before I killed Burgade.”

“I don’t think you could kill those dogs,” Nancy yawned. “Even if you had two guns. I’m not sure anything could kill them.”

Stephanie laughed. “Except maybe Burgade’s breath.”

“Now there’s a weapon I hadn’t thought of,” Nancy said.

Fargo admired the dialogue. Most prisoners would have long ago—and understandably—sunk into depression and silence. You could only live like this so long before captivity broke you physically and spiritually. But the sisters’ bright chatter spoke of their bravery and determination to survive this experience.

Burgade came in. “Aaron and Stephanie. You’re going out first. Walk over here now.”

“Maybe it’d be easier if you’d just shoot us right here and get it over with,” Aaron said.

“That’d be fine with me. But your brother wouldn’t get his fun if I did that. And one way or another, we all need to keep your brother happy. Now shut your stupid mouth and get your ass over here.”

Fargo watched as the shackled couple made their way to Burgade who stood frowning and impatient, his rifle cradled in his arms as if it were his infant.

When they reached him, Burgade handed Stephanie a key and said, “Take the shackles and cuffs off both of you and then give me the key back.”

“You’re not afraid we might jump you?” Aaron smiled.

“First of all, you haven’t got the guts. Second of all, this rifle would cut you in half at this range. And third of all, even if you got past me, the dogs are right outside.” And right on cue, the dogs started barking again, sounding both vicious and hungry.

Stephanie unlocked the shackles and the cuffs and handed the key to Burgade, who then went to the door and whispered three words in Indian dialect that silenced the dogs instantly. Fargo was impressed. The sonofabitch not only spoke so low it was just about impossible to hear him; he also spoke in what sounded like an Indian tongue Fargo had never heard before.

Burgade waved his rifle at Aaron and Stephanie. “Outside.”

“Those dogs’re settled down now?” Aaron asked, obviously afraid.

Burgade grinned. “I guess you’ll find out soon enough, won’t you?”

They went outside. The dogs didn’t bark. Nor did they attack. You could hear Burgade laying out the plan for exploring the island.

But Fargo wasn’t paying much attention. He was too busy thinking of ways you could escape dogs whose sole purpose was to kill on command.

18

While his deputies circulated among the crowds on this Fourth of July afternoon, Tom Tillman spent his time asking questions. He made them as subtle as he could, as if he really wasn’t asking questions at all but just sort of passing the time. But at least one person must have gotten suspicious about his queries because at around four o’clock a seldom-seen sight appeared like an apparition in the front doorway of the sheriff’s office. Noah Tillman himself.

Tom was manning the front desk so he could help folks who stopped in looking for help. Kids got lost, old people got sick from the heat, honest folks inevitably got cheated by various small-time confidence men who always worked crowds like this. And on and on. Tom wanted people to have a good impression of the town so he was as hospitable and patient as he could be.