Slocum and the High-Rails Heiress Page 18

  She was an odd duck, no question. And as he listened to her speak, he realized that half the time he found her exasperating, the other half the time he found her exciting and a beauty unmatched and beyond his wildest imaginings. And he couldn’t help wondering what time spent with her between the sheets would be like?

  As the road wound downward, the air still carried a chill, though he was sure that the temperatures were slowly warming. If this keeps up, I’ll have to shuck this coat, he thought with a smile. Up until this point, the warm weather had been his most pleasant surprise, once they’d departed from the train and headed in this southwesterly direction. This was a part of the country he’d never been in, and with each turn of the buggy’s wheels, each step of the horses’ hooves, he liked it more and more.

  “That it?” he asked, gesturing with his chin at a modest ranch house on a green flat in the valley below. He had to admit that, after all the buildup, he had been expecting something a little grander. Especially considering all the hubbub the trip had stirred up.

  But maybe it was the land that held all the value around here. Judging from it, it looked like it just got better and better the deeper down the long valley they traveled. In fact, he was beginning to see a distinct tinge of green carpet all over the valley bottom below. It even crept upward into the slopes of the surrounding hills.

  “Oh.” She smiled. “That is the halfway house, a way station, if you will. We’ll stop there for the night and roll on early tomorrow. With any luck, we’ll arrive at the ranch house proper by midday.”

  The night at the halfway house was filled with anything but danger. Uneventful was the key word, and Slocum wouldn’t have it any other way. He was dog-tired from the hellacious train trip, and ready to tuck into the fine spread put on by the old couple who ran the station.

  He gathered from their conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Burdick that they had sort of worked for Augusta’s family for a long, long time. And since they loved it there in the valley, and had never been asked to leave, they could always be counted on for a hot meal and a guest bed.

  Speaking of, wondered Slocum as the evening wound down, I need to hit the hay. He stood and stretched his legs. “I would like to get some shut-eye, Mr. Burdick. Would you happen to have a lantern I might borrow that would get me to the stable?” He glanced at Augusta, but she’d turned her head and stared at the coals in the fireplace.

  “Of course,” said the rancher. “I do wish we had another spare room to offer you, Mr. Slocum. Alas, we have but the one, and that, as you can see, is spoken for.”

  “Not a worry in the least. Truth be told, I miss sleeping rough. I’m not used to such frippery in my life as I experienced on the train.” He smiled. “’Bout time I toughen myself again for the trail.”

  If the statement affected Miss Barr at all, it didn’t show on her face.

  Later, in the night, Slocum awoke, fully alert, from a sound sleep. His hand instinctively reached for his Colt. He touched the ebony handgrips and held his breath, listening. Someone was padding across the yard, trying not to be heard, from the little ranch house toward the barn, a distance of a few dozen yards.

  Slipping the Colt Navy from its holster on the gun belt wrapped neatly beside his head, Slocum crept across the loft and peeked out at the moonlit yard. And saw Augusta Barr wearing the gauziest garment he’d ever seen. It looked more like her naked body was surrounded with a slight layer of fog than cloth. And it looked just fine. He could just make out the white bandage on her upper arm. Other than that and the flimsy nightie, it appeared she was completely nude. He watched her tiptoe through the open barn doors, then peek into the stalls below.

  “Mr. Slocum?” she whispered. She worked her way up the ladder, slowly, looking around her in the near dark. When she got to the top, she turned, stepped into the soft chaff, and peered into the dark, toward where he’d been close to snoring but a few moments before.

  He stood still, watching her full, firm buttocks shift with each light step she took. Now here’s a new twist in an old rope, he thought as he watched the woman’s pert backside.

  He had been clad in his longhandles, but they’d proved far too warm, so he’d skinned them off. He’d sprawled out in the soft hay of the loft, buck naked and loving the soft caress of the warm night breezes through the open hay doors at either end of the loft. At that point, he hadn’t thought that the night could get any better.

  “Right here, princess.”

  She gasped and spun around, facing him, a hand at her throat hugging a flimsy nightgown hiding nothing as the soft moonlight lit her from behind. He saw her exquisite shape and knew it was a body unmatched by any he’d ever had the privilege to know.

  And in the latest in a series of surprises he’d experienced from this girl, she parted the flimsy gown and wrapped her arms around him, her lips touching his chin, her tongue creeping up to his mouth, her body squirming against him. Her breasts melted soft against his ribs and he felt her heart hammering.

  She stood up on her toes and parted her legs so that his member, now more than fully awakened, nestled at the nexus of her body. She ground softly against him, one hand caressing the back of his neck, long fingers writhing in his hair, and the other rubbing open-palmed across his backside, then slipping between their bodies to stroke him.

  Slocum lifted her off her feet and her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, her seeking tongue never leaving his mouth. He carried her deep into the softest pile of hay and laid her down. Looking down at her as she looked up at him, her golden hair a soft halo in the pale moonlight, Slocum could not resist her, and with an animal-like grunt, he leaned down, kissed her chin, her neck, and continued on down her body, his tongue laving her breasts, the taut nipples erect. She moaned softly, her fingers lost in his hair. Hers was a sound as full of desire as he felt.

  Down he continued, kissing the smooth, soft belly, then he ran his tongue along an inner thigh. He felt her heat, and the musky smell of her lured him in. He tasted her pungent nectar and wanted more, the heady scent filling his nose and lungs. Soon, the urgency of lust frenzied him, and he worked his way up the taut, heaving plane of her belly, trailing the tip of his tongue along smooth flesh grown hot to the touch.

  Augusta’s hands, gripping either side of Slocum’s head, guided him upward as much as her low, impatient moans. He paused at those perfect, full breasts; the nipples, firm as raspberries not yet ripe, seemed to glow scarlet in the soft light of the loft.

  By the time his lips reached her jutting, trembling chin, her mouth sought his, near frantic. Their teeth tapped together. Slocum tasted something bitter on his bottom lip, but didn’t care. This woman could draw his blood all day long and he felt sure he could take it. He was beginning to wonder if keeping up with her would prove to be another problem altogether, though.

  With one strong hand she kneaded his backside, drawing him in tight between her wide-spread legs, while with the other she groped between their straining bodies slicked with a sheen of sweat, for his firm member.

  She proved more than ready for him, and before he realized it, Slocum had slipped into her. She gripped his bottom lip gently with her own, and a soft, humming sound, as if from a swarm of approaching bees, rose from her throat, her nostrils working to keep up with her hot breath pushing in and out, her breathing keeping time with his increasing thrusts.

  In a deft move Slocum didn’t sense coming, she grasped his shoulders, shifted her weight hard and fast to her left, and rising up onto one knee, rolled Slocum onto his back. She glanced down once at him, grunted, and smiled as she pushed his shoulders flat to the soft hay, her gauzy gown slipping down her slender arms. She raised her hands and shook it off as though it had offended her.

  She arched her back, pushing her full breasts outward. They bounced with each energetic slide downward she made, their bodies where they met slapping together. Slocum grasped and rolled the firm nipples, pinching them, eliciting heavier breathing and moans while he firmly mass
aged her breasts against her taut frame.

  Then she rose up, nearly lifting him with her, before slamming downward again. Her eyes remained closed, but the lashes fluttered as if she were in a deep sleep, dreaming of something. Pleasurable or frightening? wondered Slocum.

  Her hair hung down, half hiding her face, sweat-soaked strands lay plastered to her cheeks, across her chin, and her mouth pulled wide in an almost-smile, her full red lips seeming to tremble in anticipation. Her hands gripped and rubbed and kneaded his ribs. He was nearly there, despite his efforts to hold off as long as possible. With a woman like this, he told himself, holding off on something like that was nearly impossible.

  He felt her tighten about him, heard her breathing catch, then her body grew rigid atop him a second before he reached the same sensation. He gripped her backside and jammed tightly into her, both of them trembling, neither daring to move from that precarious pose.

  After a few moments, she lay forward against his chest, her hair tickling his nose. He touched her hair, lightly pushed it away from her face, noted the bandage was still in place. He could see she was smiling, her eyes open, shining.

  “What about your chest?” he said.

  She looked at him for a moment, her eyes half-lidded, then she thrust her creamy breasts in his face, the brass key dangling in the alluring cleft between them. “What about it?”

  If she’s not worried about the other chest, he thought, then neither am I. For now. She let out a quick squeal as he flipped her over onto her back and drove his face between her breasts, growling and drawing a giggle from her.

  29

  As they clattered out of the little yard the next morning, the chest bolted to the floor of the barouche just behind the seat, she seemed her usual perky self. Slocum had come to realize this was her usual morning manner. They exchanged few words during the next few hours, neither feeling the need to interrupt the plain pleasure of letting the sun shine down on them, soak into them, warm their upturned faces.

  The team rarely wavered in their route, so driving them consisted of little more than urging them on when they began to flag. The Appaloosa seemed to enjoy the journey as much as he had the day before. They traveled for several hours surrounded by scenery that grew even prettier—and warmer and greener—with each bit of ground gained by the team. They rounded a bend and the road ahead was blocked from view by a monstrous outcropping of red-gray rock, prominent and as tall as the masts of two schooners he’d once seen on the Barbary Coast.

  Augusta shifted in the seat beside him. “We’re nearly there,” she said. She smoothed the front of her dress and adjusted her hat, repositioned the light veil over her face. Under it, he could just make out the same expectant look he’d grown accustomed to seeing on her face when something was about to happen.

  He felt sure he’d never get used to seeing it, for it made her face spark alive, made her natural beauty even more stunning. And as they rounded the rocky outcropping, her blue-leather-gloved hand rested on his forearm and he heard a slight sound of wonder escape from her mouth. It could just as well have come from his own.

  On the plain before them, in the midst of the prettiest of the hidden valleys they’d ridden through, sat an enormous mansion, easily one of the prettiest he’d ever seen. And one of the largest. And oddly enough, though it would look perfectly at home on a plantation down South or perched high on an oceanside cliff overlooking the Pacific and the bustling port city of San Francisco, it also looked perfectly sited there before them in the midst of the green valley, with what looked like miles of white three-rail fence, barns painted red, several herds of gleaming horses moving about as if they expected their arrival.

  Even the horses pulling the barouche appeared excited at the prospect of arriving home. The Appaloosa pranced behind with slack in the lead rope, his ears perked forward, nostrils working the scents in the air.

  “There it is,” she said, the smile on her face evident even through the veil.

  He wanted to say, “You don’t say.” But all he could manage was “Amazing.”

  “I know,” she said. “I’m so lucky.”

  “Yes, you are,” he said. “How many people never even get to see such finery, and it whirls about you every minute of every day. And you were born into it. But at least you know it, at least you recognize your good fortune.”

  “You know,” she said, glancing at him briefly, “I really do. At least I try to appreciate it, and to not take it for granted.”

  He glanced at her as they sped toward what looked like a white-uniformed welcoming committee, the sheer number of whom could well have been the entire population of a small country. Her green eyes sparkled and her smile was wide.

  It took a couple of hours for her to give Slocum the full tour. Every one of the workers they met stopped what they were doing and greeted Miss Barr with what looked to Slocum to be genuine happiness. Their condolences on hearing of Mr. Ling’s demise ranged from frowns and headshakes to heartbreaking tears, and he knew that, as silent and taciturn as the little Chinaman was, here on the ranch, he was also a well-respected and well-liked man.

  The barns, stables, animals, and equipment were all in perfect condition, and the tack rooms mystified Slocum. Never had he seen so much leather and silver and brass, and all polished to a high gloss. It almost hurt the eyes to look.

  “Do any of these people actually ride?” he’d asked her under his breath.

  She laughed. “All the time. Everyone here is free to use whatever they need, for however long.”

  “And they’re all happy to be here, it seems.”

  “Wouldn’t you be?”

  He nodded. “I reckon so.” A handful of children swarmed by, giggling and chasing a half-grown dog. “Don’t tell me you have a school, too?”

  “Right over there,” she said, indicating with a nod a perfect red schoolhouse he’d not yet noticed, tucked off the lane, beside a stand of willows.

  “I can see why your father built here. This spot is stunning.” He stood beside her, watching the stream curve slowly through cropped green grass. It was hard to believe, standing here in the sunshine, listening to children playing and watching horses caper in a pasture, that over the mountains it was still winter. “It’ll be a shame to leave.”

  He’d not meant his comment to sound as if he were angling for an invite to stay on, but he guessed that was how she took it.

  “Why would you leave, John?”

  He looked at her. “Well, princess, it seems to me you’re in better hands here than you could be anywhere else on earth. These people obviously think highly of you, and you them. And you can handle your father’s estate from here just fine.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Come on now, princess. Your father’s dead and somebody intelligent had to step in and run the man’s affairs.”

  “He has a team of legal consultants and business advisors.”

  Slocum shook his head. “No, ma’am. You do. So, out with it.”

  She sighed, then said, “You’re right. I haven’t told you the whole story. But let’s go back to the house. There’s something you should see.”

  “I like the sound of that,” he said.

  She just shook her head, but as he walked beside her, he saw a mischievous smile on her face.

  30

  In the house, she unclasped the chain from around her neck and handed him the key.

  “You’re sure?” he said.

  In response, she nodded toward the locked chest, now sitting atop a polished table in the center of the room. To date, she’d not let him touch it, much less lug it anywhere, always insisting on doing so herself.

  He slid the key into the middle lock, turned it clockwise, and what he could see of the intricate mechanism, fine teeth embedded within layers of gears, ratcheted in both directions. From inside, he heard a series of clicks and pops, then a final wood-sounding clunk, and the arched top of the chest popped up an inch or so, revealing a dark interior.
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  Slocum glanced at Augusta as she stood by with a half-smile of bemusement. He lifted the top, and saw that a layer of thick black cloth concealed the chest’s contents. He lifted the corner of the cloth to reveal…nothing.

  “Empty?” he said, looking up at her. “You do know it’s empty, don’t you?”

  She nodded, that infuriating smile still on her face.

  He peeled back the cloth fully, looked beneath it at the vacant innards of the heavy wooden chest. “Empty,” he sighed, shaking his head. “So, princess, it seems you were the precious cargo all along.”

  “John, since our trip was a successful one, I feel that I owed you an explanation. The last one, I assure you.”

  “Way things have been going, I tend to wonder about that, ma’am.”

  “It pained me to have to do so, but Mr. Ling…” Her words caught in her throat for moment. She coughed and continued. “He was getting on in years, and since taking over my father’s business, I have had increasing numbers of threats to my life, as you know.”

  He nodded. “Go on.”

  “Well, I am a woman.”

  “Yes, ma’am, you are surely that.”

  “With that comes certain preconceptions in this modern age. Some of them unfortunate and unearned.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as the fact that a woman couldn’t possibly run a multimillion-dollar empire. You see, I have been running my father’s business affairs. Running them, all of them, mind you, since before he died. And profits are up, I am pleased to say. Well, before the end, he was old and infirm in his mind and body. But we couldn’t let various investors, business partners, lenders, or the public get wind of it. If they did, and knew a woman was running things, they would have pulled support in various ways.”

  She eyed him for a moment before continuing. “This in turn would have had terrible consequences on a national economic scale. And with it, the lives of too many people who are dependent on Barr Corporation for their livelihoods would have been ruined, too.”