Longarm and the Stagecoach Robbers Page 6

  Charlie gagged a little but she did not back off. She cupped his balls in her hand and, with one fingertip, lightly tickled his asshole.

  Longarm was loving the feel of all this, but he could not hold back. Almost immediately he felt the gather of cum deep in his balls and then the quick, spurting release deep into her mouth.

  Again he cried out aloud. Then collapsed onto Charlise Carver’s feather bed.

  There would be time enough for proper play—so to speak—later. But for now . . . it was good.

  Chapter 27

  Longarm lay still, enjoying the peaceful predawn. He had gotten some sleep through the night. A little anyway. Now Charlie lay on her back. Longarm was on his side, his legs scissored in with hers, his dick filling her.

  Charlie moved a little, then moaned. She proved to be easily and deeply aroused, quick to reach her own climax and quick to bring him to his.

  Despite the full night of screwing, his dick was ramrod stiff, with the kind of hard-on that made men claim a cat couldn’t scratch it. Longarm knew the expression but had never actually attempted to see if it was true.

  He moved his ass just enough to draw his cock to the entrance of her pussy then rocked forward again, stroking her a few inches at a time. Charlie’s breath began to quicken and her pussy lips fluttered and clenched as she reached what must have been a powerful climax, at least judging from the way she stiffened and gasped.

  “Nice,” he said.

  “I agree,” Charlie said, sitting up and swinging her legs off the side of the bed, “but it’s coming on toward dawn. I need to open the office, and you need to make that hitch and bring the coach around front.”

  She stood and reached for her clothes. Longarm, too, left the bed. He helped himself to a splash of cleansing water from the pitcher and basin on a bedside stand, then he quickly got dressed, ready for the day. He needed to stop by the hotel and change to fresh clothing when he got time, he noted to himself, and he needed to pick up his clean clothes from the Chinese laundry.

  Then he grinned silently to himself, thinking that neither of those routine chores was half as interesting as fucking Charlise Carver.

  “We have time for breakfast,” Charlie said. “I’ll put some coffee on to boil if you run next door to the bakery for some crullers.” She smiled. “Coffee and crullers. Always a perfect breakfast.”

  Longarm finished buckling his .45 in place and reached for his hat. “Back in five minutes,” he said.

  “Take your time. The coffee won’t be ready quite that soon.”

  “In that case,” he said, “I’ll get the pastries an’ then go around to start putting harness onto the boys. They don’t know me yet, an’ I sure don’t know either them or the harness quite yet. You can tend to the coffee an’ call me when you’re ready to set down to eat.”

  Charlie nodded, rose onto her tiptoes to deliver a light kiss on the corner of his mouth, and went scurrying off to the stove to prepare their coffee.

  Longarm stepped out back to the corrals and tried to remember which team of four he was supposed to drive this morning, reminding himself that today he ran the reverse route and started in Bailey then on around to the other way stations.

  He genuinely hoped the Carvers would be able to make a go of the company. He liked both of them and wished them well.

  Chapter 28

  “You’ve been smoking again,” Charlie said. “I can smell it on you.”

  “Yes, I have,” Longarm agreed, “an’ I intend to keep it up. Lady, I been smoking since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. I ain’t gonna change that now. Are these crullers all right? The fellow said they’re fresh this morning.”

  “Hiram’s baked goods are always fresh. Every evening he takes whatever is left over and gives them to the burros that work in the mines,” Charlie said.

  “Burros?”

  “They work underground. They’re of a good size to work in the tunnels, and their dispositions are better than bigger animals,” she said.

  “I had forgotten that,” he admitted, reaching for a cruller.

  “Wait. We need to pray first,” she said, stopping his hand before it reached his mouth.

  “Reckon I forgot that, too.”

  “Pray for an easy trip around and pray for Will to get back on his feet soon,” Charlie said. “But I guess you aren’t in the habit, so just do your praying silently and I’ll do the same. It comes across either way, I’ve been told.”

  Longarm nodded and took Charlie’s hand. He bowed his head and waited quietly until she gave his hand a squeeze to let him know she was done and they could begin eating.

  After breakfast he went out back and finished building the hitch and pulled the coach around to the front of the Carver Express Company office.

  Two passengers were waiting and another was making his way up the street.

  It was time for the day to get started.

  Chapter 29

  “Well, now look what the cat dragged in,” Longarm said with a smile as he pulled around to the corrals and found Will Carver waiting there to help with breaking the hitch and tending to the horses.

  Not that Will was much real help. He was on crutches and could not do much. But he tried and he did what he could.

  “Mom says you should come in to have supper with us when we’re done here,” Will said.

  “Glad to. So how’re you doing now?”

  “Fair,” Carver said. “Doc says I should be on crutches for a couple weeks, but it won’t be that long. I figure I can take over driving again next week.” He scuffed at the dirt with the toe of one boot, then looked up and reluctantly added, “But I have to admit that I’m hoping you will still be with us a little longer. Handling the horses on the ground and, well, and everything. It’s a big help.”

  “I’ll stay as long as I can, just so’s you know that I have a job an’ it comes first,” Longarm said.

  “Fair enough,” Will told him. “And we do really appreciate all your help, both Mom and me.”

  “Good,” Longarm said, hanging up the heavy harness that had come off the wheelers. “Then let’s wash up before we go in to one o’ your mom’s fine meals.”

  Later, his belly full, Longarm gave Charlise a look and a nod to tell her he would be around after Will went back to his own place for the night. Then he turned to Will and said, “Let’s go up front. Out there on the porch is the only place your mother lets me smoke. That woman is gonna drive me crazy with her evil ways.” Past Will’s shoulder he winked at Charlise.

  Longarm led Will to a line of wicker bottom chairs beneath the front overhang, where in the mornings passengers could wait for the stagecoach to be brought around. The two of them settled into adjoining chairs, and Longarm reached for a cheroot. Will pulled out a plug of tobacco and bit off a chew.

  When Longarm had his smoke lit, he leaned back and said, “Now you know not t’ get into arguments with men who carry guns.”

  “An argument? Is that what you heard?” Will said. “It was no argument, Marshal. The truth is, I never saw whoever it was that shot me.”

  “How’d that happen?” Longarm asked.

  Will leaned forward and spat into the street, then said, “I was over at Maybelle’s whorehouse. Two of the girls got into a fight.” He laughed. “Oh, they were really going at it. Ripped each other’s kimonos clean off so there they were, the both of them bare-assed, brawling like a couple kids in an after-school fight. Hissing and spitting and pulling hair. It was quite a show.

  “Then I heard a pop, not half as loud as I might have expected, and my leg felt like somebody had whacked it with a maul. However it happened . . . maybe somebody’s pistol went off by accident or something . . . but however it happened, my leg just buckled right out from under me, and I went down on my ass.

  “I didn’t even know that I’d been shot until my friend Anson saw
that I was bleeding. I couldn’t see the wound very well. It’s up high on the back of my leg. Anson and some other fellows carried me over to Doc’s place, and that damn doctor cut up my best pair of jeans to get to the wound. And now”—he indicated the crutches leaning on the chair beside his—“now I have this to deal with. I’ll heal quick enough, but it’s a nuisance for sure. My mom and me are grateful to you for your help, Marshal.”

  “Any idea how far away the gun was when you were shot?” Longarm asked.

  Will shook his head. “No idea at all. Like I said, it must have been an accident. I mean, it wasn’t like I was arguing with someone or that somebody might have a reason to shoot me. I was just standing there watching those girls fight. The next thing I knew, I was down on my back bleeding all over Maybelle’s rug. Doc said I could have bled to death if Anson hadn’t jumped in to help.”

  “Lucky,” Longarm said.

  “Very,” Will fervently agreed.

  Longarm took a long drag on his cheroot then closed his eyes and pondered the delightful things he intended to do with this young man’s mother once Will went home for the night.

  Chapter 30

  Longarm went back to the Pickens House to sleep that night. Now that Will was up and around, it would not have been a good idea for him to sleep in Charlie’s bed, pleasant though that was. He did dearly love waking up with a place to put his hard-on—and the place that Charlise Carver provided was very pleasant—but it simply was not possible any longer.

  He did, however, make a two-hour visit to that bed after telling Will good night and seeing the young man off to his own digs.

  Dawn found him with his belly warmed from the inside out by a heavy breakfast at the café, and he finally picked up his clean clothes from the Chinese laundry and stashed them in his room before going to the Carver office. He made up the hitch and drove the coach around to the front of the building to find Charlie waiting for him with coffee and four passengers, three going to Hartsel and one to Bailey.

  Will was there, too. Longarm thought it a little odd that Will had not come around back to help with the horses. But then he was on crutches and might not find it so easy to get around. Besides, he needed all the sleep he could get. Longarm did not begrudge him a minute of it.

  Will helped the passengers with their bags while Charlie chatted with them and Longarm drank her steaming hot black coffee.

  When everything was in readiness, Longarm handed his almost empty cup back to Charlie and made the climb up to the driving box. He took up the lines and waited for Will to step aside, then cracked the whip—he had been practicing when he was alone out on the road—and put the team into their showy charge out of town and onto the road to Hartsel.

  * * *

  “You’re getting better at handling the team,” Charlie said that night as they lay in bed, both sweaty and spent from several hours of intense lovemaking.

  She giggled and kissed his shoulder. “Keep it up and I might consider hiring you.”

  “As a driver?” he asked.

  “No,” she said playfully. “As a stud. Will can do the driving. You can stay in bed.”

  “Sounds like pleasant enough workin’ conditions,” he said. “What sort o’ benefits d’ you offer?”

  “All the pussy you can eat,” Charlie told him.

  He laughed. “Now that’s a job offer that tempts me.”

  Longarm sat up, stretched, and reached for the clothes he had discarded earlier in the evening.

  His eye was drawn to a crack in the door. He was certain he had closed that door and set the latch before they came to bed.

  Careful not to show his hand—though he was showing pretty much everything else from head to toe—he slipped out of the bed and casually lifted his .45 out of the holster he had hung on the bedpost.

  Longarm reached the doorway in three strides. He brought the Colt up to the slight opening in one swift motion and yanked the door open.

  Will Carver was standing there, red-faced with fury at the sight of the marshal in bed with his mother.

  Longarm lowered the muzzle of his .45 and pulled the door the rest of the way open. “You might as well come in, kid, an’ say what’s on your mind.”

  Will broke into tears. He whirled around, clumsy on his crutches, and hobbled away as quickly as he could manage.

  Chapter 31

  They sat around the table in Charlie’s tiny kitchen. Longarm was barefoot and shirtless. He had just thrown on some trousers before he ran and caught Will, forcibly bringing the young man back inside.

  Charlise had a fluffy wrap but nothing beneath it. She was embarrassed but firm.

  Will was visibly upset, his cheeks streaked where tears had flowed. He did not want to be there but acceded to his mother’s insistence.

  “You never loved Papa at all,” he declared at one point. “If you did, you wouldn’t be rutting like some common tramp with this . . . this man.”

  Longarm reached across the table and cuffed him. “Mind how you talk about your mama,” he said.

  Will gave him a sullen look but said nothing more.

  Charlie tried to bring a measure of peace to the table. “We had some leftover coffee,” she said. “It’s heating. It will be ready in a few minutes.”

  “Listen to me, boy,” Longarm said, peering directly into Will’s face. “Your mama is a good woman. A nice person. She’s talked to me about your pap. She loved him very much. But he’s gone now. Dead an’ buried. And your mama is alive, with all the hopes an’ dreams an’ desires of anybody. Those desires include love, boy.

  “I know you understand about sex. You go over to Maybelle’s whorehouse from time to time. You romp with the ladies there an’ think that makes you a man. Well, it don’t. Being a man means letting other folks be who an’ what they are.

  “That, boy, would include your mama. She’s a wonderful lady. An’ I do mean lady. Don’t you be bad-mouthing her or looking down on her for being a normal human person. It ain’t your place to judge your mama. She gives you space to live pretty much the way you please, so give her the same courtesy.”

  Charlie left the table and returned with three heavy crockery mugs. She set them down and poured each full of coffee that was far from being hot. More like tepid.

  Neither Longarm nor Will complained about the temperature. They drank the coffee more like it was medicine than for pleasure.

  And perhaps it was Charlise’s sort of medicine at that, Longarm thought. It gave them all pause to stop their condemnation and complaining long enough to let them calm down a little.

  Charlie gave her son a cautionary look and said, “What were you doing peeping into my bedroom anyway?”

  “I . . . I . . .” Will could not come up with any answer but silence.

  “You were peeping at me. Your own mother. You are a peeper. If you weren’t so big, I would take you over my knee and thrash you within an inch of your life.”

  Longarm looked away and tried to ignore the tirade that followed until finally a chastened Will left the table and skulked away.

  “He’ll be all right,” Longarm said softly. “It ain’t always easy for a boy t’ come to grips with the notion that his parents are as randy as anyone else.”

  Charlie watched her son leave. Then she broke down in tears. Bad as this night had been for Will, it was just as unpleasant for his mother.

  Longarm sat slowly sipping his now cold coffee, waiting for an opportunity to escape.

  Chapter 32

  The next morning, Sunday, he did not have to drive, so Longarm treated himself by staying in bed—alone—until past seven then got up and shaved, dressed, and went down the street to the café for breakfast.

  Normally he would have wanted to spend time with the Carvers, but he suspected this would not be a good day for that. Mother and son needed time to work out their emotions and rea
ch a measure of peace between them. It probably would be best for him to stay away, he thought, while they were doing that.

  He could use a haircut, but the two barbers in Fairplay were closed for the day. Even the mines were shut down for the day of rest.

  The churches were open, of course, but Longarm was not in the habit of attending services. That was not to say that he should not. He suspected that he probably should. But he did not.

  The cafés and several fancy restaurants were open. But a man could only eat so much.

  About the only other choice was a saloon.

  So Longarm found himself helping to hold up the bar at Ikey Tyler’s Bearpaw Saloon—the full and correct name for it according to the sign out front—along with a packed house of customers enjoying their one day of rest for the week.

  “Say, you’re that fellow that knocked out Lennox last week, aren’t you? Well, let me shake your hand, mister, and buy you a drink.”

  It was a sentiment Longarm heard over and over during the next several hours. By noon he was awash in cheap beer and cheaper whiskey, to the point that he was feeling the effects.

  “Excuse me, gents. I have t’ go out back an’ make a contribution,” he said, disengaging from the boisterous crowd.

  It was lunchtime but he was not at all hungry. Aside from having the late breakfast, he had been munching on the free lunch items available at Ikey Tyler’s Bearpaw Saloon. Those were even cheaper than the beer, but they filled a man’s belly and the heavy application of salt on everything contributed to his thirst.

  But then there was no such thing as a free lunch.

  Longarm returned to the Pickens House and used the outhouse behind the hotel then went inside.

  “What can I do for you, Marshal?”

  “I could use the tub an’ some hot water to fill it,” he said.

  “Coming right up,” Nathan told him. The desk clerk turned his head and bellowed, “Johnny!”