Slocum and the Yellowstone Scoundrel Page 6

  With an easy grace, he mounted and trotted off, leaving Slocum to wonder how he was going to find the ruby.

  “You really shouldn’t bother him when he is working, Mr. Slocum. When he gets into one of his snits, he is quite impossible for hours and hours.” She dropped to the ground and went to the easel. “He is truly a remarkable artist.” She looked from the sketch to the subject and back. “A genius with the brush as well as the camera.”

  “What did Hayden want to talk to him about?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Well, I do. Nothing. I lied. Dr. Hayden said nothing to me about talking with William. By the time they find one another, something will have come up, though. It always does.”

  “You sent him on a wild-goose chase?”

  “Yes,” she said, turning her limpid brown eyes on him.

  “Why?”

  “How else could we be alone for a while?” She took a step toward him, then stopped.

  “Why would you want to be alone with me?”

  She shrugged, then smiled wickedly.

  “It is a beautiful day, and you are a beautiful man. Unless I am completely wrong, you similarly find me—”

  “Beautiful,” Slocum said, kissing her. Hard.

  6

  “I want you, John. Here. Now.”

  Slocum answered with actions rather than words. He kissed across her forehead and over closed eyes, those brown eyes that were so passionate and demanding. From here he silenced her for a moment with a kiss to her lips before moving lower, to a slender neck with a throbbing vein at the side that betrayed her arousal.

  His lips pushed aside the neckline of her dress, exposing just enough of the surge of her breasts to excite him even more. The soft flesh flowed like silk under his lips, his tongue, his lustful gaze. Marlene reached up and tugged at her blouse, pulling the cloth down to expose even more of her luscious breasts. When a pink nipple popped free, Slocum pounced on it. His lips circled it. He sucked. Marlene gasped as she arched her back, trying to thrust more of her teat into his mouth.

  He opened his mouth enough to take more of her. The soft flesh became his plaything. His tongue teased her nip, then pressed the hardening point back into the breast.

  “That feels so nice, John, so good. But I want more.”

  Her fingers clawed at his back, curved into talons that raked his flesh. This spurred him on. He ran his hands under her blouse, felt her heaving sides, and traced across every rib. He felt her frenzied heart accelerate even more as her passions rose. With a quick lift, he skinned her out of her blouse, leaving her naked to the waist. The warm sunlight bathed her twin glories rivaling the majestic stony peaks to the east, but these were warm and pliant and so much more inviting.

  He kissed down one slope and licked upward in a slow, tormenting spiral to capture the hard nub cresting the other. She pressed closer to him. When he felt her legs buckle, he held her upright so she didn’t collapse. Slowly lowering her to the ground, he found himself atop her. Marlene struggled under him, her legs spreading and her knees lifting on either side of his body.

  Slocum struggled to get her skirts out of the way but found himself tangled.

  “Wait, no, this way,” she said. Her knees locked hard on his flanks then she heaved hard and rolled them over so Slocum was on the bottom and she reared above him, looking down.

  Slocum liked this just fine. Her breasts bobbed as she rocked back, giving him a delightful view. The sun cast deep shadows between those warm peaks, giving her an exotic, exciting look. With a twitch of her hips, she lifted enough to reposition her skirts, then reached under them. At first Slocum thought she was tugging away her bloomers, then felt her quick fingers popping open the buttons on his fly.

  He moaned in pleasure as she freed him and wrapped those agile fingers around his stiffening length. A few quick strokes made him steely hard and ready for what came next.

  “I want this, John, I want you,” she said in a sex-husky voice.

  He reached up and cupped her breasts. The pressure of his palms against her nipples caused her to clamp her hands over his to push down even harder. She closed her eyes and tossed her head back to give voice to a loud cry of pure animal lust. When she began twisting side to side, her increasingly wet, warm privates rubbing against his manhood, Slocum reached the limits of his endurance.

  “In,” he said, pulling one hand away. He worked under her skirts and ran his fingers across her nether lips. The lady juices leaking from her insides lubricated his hand. He ran a finger into her, then began swirling it about. She went wild with need, rising, dropping, rocking, and twisting about. After the soft ruddy flush started on her white throat and spread downward to her tits, he knew she was ready for him.

  Fumbling about, he positioned himself under those tender sex lips, then arched his back enough to sink an inch into her. It was as if all her strength fled. She collapsed, crashing downward and taking him balls deep.

  “Oh,” she said, “so big, so very big inside me.”

  Then her hips went berserk. She lifted and fell back repeatedly, speed increasing. Slocum felt her warmth all around, clutching at him, squeezing down as if she had gripped him wearing a velvet glove. He reached around her and cupped her buttocks, reveling in the feel of her muscles as she strained to move. As he squeezed down on the doughy mounds, she slammed down fully around him and cried out. Her body shook like a leaf in a high wind, and the blush spread even more fully across her breasts.

  The shudders subsided and her eyes opened. Those brown eyes lacked the sharpness they had before. Now slightly unfocused by the power of her release, she blinked a few times. A tiny smile curled her lips as she said, “That was wonderful, John.”

  “Going to get even better,” he said, straining to sit up. His arms circled her body and held her as he repositioned her.

  His legs were stretched out while hers thrust straight on either side of his body. He split her wide open. Still buried in her, he began rocking back and forth. This moved him a little, but in ways that built enough friction against different portions of her heated tunnel.

  “Th-That’s like nothing I’ve ever f-felt,” she gasped out. She buried her face in his shoulder as he continued to rock.

  The movements were small. The effect was huge. He hardened to the point where he thought he would go out of his mind with need. When she clamped down all around him, a warm and willing mine shaft collapsing on him, he jetted out his spunk. Slocum never stopped the slow, deliberate movement, and this added to his release. Marlene gasped as another climax seized her.

  They sat face to face, her legs around him, for several minutes enjoying the muzzy afterglow. Marlene finally flopped back, resting on Slocum’s legs. He tried not to look at her breasts and failed.

  “Again?” she asked, using one hand to balance on the ground and the other to toy with her nipples.

  “I’m not made out of stone,” Slocum said.

  “Could have fooled me. What I felt was long and hard as rock.”

  Slocum laughed. This had been unexpected and what he had been missing for so long. He put his hands on her waist and lifted so she could get her knees under her. From here she gracefully stood and stepped back to look down at his crotch.

  “I can get it hard again. I’m quite the . . . stonemason.”

  “You certainly are,” Slocum said, “but won’t Hayden—or Jackson—be expecting you back at camp?”

  “I do declare, Mr. Slocum, a girl might think you had no interest in her with talk like that.” She bent over and lightly flicked the tip of his flaccid organ.

  A small tingle passed down into his body. He pushed her hand away. As much as he wanted to see what more Marlene had in store for him, he wasn’t up for it. Not for a while.

  “Spoilsport,” she said with a mock pout as he stood and started to button up. “If you’re going to be like that, at
least let me help.” She dropped to her knees and took him in both hands, but she didn’t push him back into his jeans that way. She used her tongue.

  Slocum felt more than a little desire stirring, but by the time she had finished tucking him away and buttoning his fly, he knew the moment had passed. She looked up at him and smiled.

  “That’s so you have something to look forward to.”

  “Next time?”

  “My, aren’t you the presumptuous one, thinking there will be a ‘next time’?”

  “But you just said—”

  Marlene laughed, and Slocum knew she was teasing him.

  “I do need to pack all this away. Why don’t you help me lash it onto my horse, then go off while I return to camp?”

  Slocum understood. If they both returned after such a delay, Jackson might be suspicious of their activities. Dr. Hayden would certainly look askance at such goings-on. It could only cause ill feelings among the rest of the expedition.

  Slocum had what they didn’t. Or was Marlene the sort to work her way through the entire expedition roster? She was a free spirit, but he didn’t get the feeling she slept with just anyone. He watched as she rode back to camp, appreciating the sight of her bosoms bouncing in tempo with the horse’s gait. When she disappeared from sight, he stepped up into the saddle and set out to explore the countryside a mite. The more he became comfortable with the land, the better he could scout for Hayden later.

  In the span of a half hour, he had become very interested in this job.

  * * *

  By the time he got back to camp, the noon meal was finished and the expedition drivers were getting their teams ready for the next leg of the trip.

  “You see any trouble ahead, Mr. Slocum?” Hayden asked.

  “Nothing but easy riding,” Slocum said. He couldn’t help looking toward the photographer’s rolling darkroom, where Marlene settled down to continue the trip. A different kind of “easy ride” came to mind. He hoped Hayden didn’t notice his glance.

  “Excellent, sir, but in a few days that will change. We will reach the southernmost part of Yellowstone, where the mapping is to begin. From that point on, we need to find a way through the challenging landscape.”

  “Heard tell of geysers and boiling mud holes,” Slocum said. “You want to see them or avoid them?”

  “An astute question, sir. I would avoid them. However, our artists would prefer to linger and capture their majesty.”

  “Majesty? A pool of hot mud? Never heard anyone call ’em majestic before.”

  Hayden laughed.

  “Our artists have eclectic tastes.” He started to snap the reins on his stallion but Slocum stopped him with one last question.

  “You have more artists than Jackson with the expedition?”

  “Of course. Gustav Leroq is our primary artist. Mr. Jackson is to concentrate on photography when we reach Yellowstone.”

  Before Slocum could ask after Leroq, the expedition leader trotted off, yelling at a driver with a balking team that held up the rest of the column.

  Slocum caught up with Marlene and was rewarded with one of her sunshine-bright smiles.

  “Tonight, John?”

  “I’m going to be falling asleep in the saddle if you keep me up too long.”

  “You certainly were not asleep when you mounted up before. And I somehow doubt it would be possible for me to keep you up too long. At least in my opinion.”

  “Hayden said there was another artist with the expedition.”

  “There is,” she said, frowning. Her sly sex talk hadn’t caused the response she had expected.

  “Does Jackson own a fancy velvet purple jacket?”

  “Mr. Jackson? He prefers earth tones in his clothing. That way the burns and chemical stains from the darkroom don’t show. He is usually dressed as you found him while working.”

  “Where’s Leroq?”

  “Why, I don’t know. I find him an irritating man, so self-absorbed. His claims of artistry certainly do not match his expertise, but you’d think he was the finest painter since El Greco.”

  “Jackson said he used special cases to carry his paintings.”

  “Why, of course. He is quite insistent on using the ones made for him in Washington, D.C.”

  “So Leroq has his own?”

  Marlene laughed harshly and said, “He considers everything his own, but I do believe he had some made similar to those William uses.”

  “I need to scout ahead,” Slocum said. He heard her call after him about them getting together later. Under other circumstances, he would have been more excited, but now he thought only of Gustav Leroq—and the Innicks’ stolen ruby. He must have been right when he thought only Leroq was involved. If Jackson brought his cases from Washington, he had no need of having more made by the Otter Creek carpenter.

  * * *

  Slocum returned to the camp after sundown. Many of the expedition had finished their chores, eaten dinner, and were unrolling their blankets for some well-deserved sleep. Slocum rode toward the darkroom wagon and saw the rear door open. Marlene and Jackson worked inside, illuminated by the pale light from a kerosene lantern. From what he could tell, they were mixing chemicals likely used to develop the pictures. Whether they intended to work into the night developing photographs Jackson had taken during the day or if this was simply preparation for later wasn’t anything he could tell. Riding over and asking was the best way of finding out.

  He felt stirrings in the crotch when he saw how Marlene pushed back brunette hair from her eyes, then bent over to lift a case of empty glass bottles. Their first real meeting in the meadow wasn’t anything he could easily forget nor was her promise for more such frolicking this evening.

  But she would be occupied for some time. That gave him the opportunity to poke around camp. He dismounted and led his horse to a rope corral. After seeing his horse fed, he hobbled the mare and went to find Leroq.

  Wandering between the wagons finally brought him to the wagon he had seen earlier with the specially made cases in the rear. He intended to search the crates and then go through the packed goods on either side when he heard a booming voice launch into a bawdy song.

  He left the wagon and went to a nearby fire where a dozen men had gathered. On the far side of the firepit, a man in a gaudy purple coat hoisted a bottle and took a long pull before passing it along. He was already so drunk he could hardly sit on the log. He threw up his arms to keep his balance and lost the battle. Tumbling flat onto his back, he lay there laughing heartily. The men on either side grabbed him and pulled him back to a sitting position.

  “I do declare, Leroq, that coat of yours shore do feel good,” one of the men said. “It’s like drapes I saw once in a whorehouse.”

  “I would never rob a house of ill repute of its curtains,” Leroq said, slurring his words. “Rather, they undoubtedly stole one of my jackets after I had exhausted myself pleasuring all their amply endowed ladies!”

  This produced a new round of laughter. Leroq launched into a series of increasingly improbable tall tales about his sexual conquests. Slocum didn’t believe a one of them. He pushed his way into the circle and watched the artist closely, wondering whether if Leroq got drunk enough, he would flash the huge ruby to brag on his thieving skills. When it didn’t happen, Slocum spoke up.

  “We can’t believe you,” Slocum said loudly. “A lover with your skill must have been given something more by his ladies. Something other than a coat made from whorehouse curtains.” Slocum intended to provoke Leroq into flashing the ruby, giving some far-fetched story of how he had come by it.

  To his disappointment, Leroq went in the other direction.

  “Ladies gift me only with their most private of parts. It is I, Gustav Leroq, who is lavish with not only my physical endowments but also my presents.”

  “More than t
wo bits, you mean?” Slocum cut in, intent on goading a confession from the artist. “Or do you give them some piss-poor trinket?”

  Leroq took another long drink from the bottle. He wobbled so much both men on either side were hard put to keep him upright. Leroq looked at the finger’s worth of amber liquor remaining, belched, then downed it all in a single gulp.

  “I am generous beyond my means. I am only a poor artist who—” Leroq’s words cut off suddenly as he sagged forward. His two supports let him topple forward. One arm flopped out and landed in the fire.

  When no one went to help put out the fiery purple velvet sleeve, Slocum hopped over the fire and dragged Leroq back. He beat out the fire, snuffed a few stubborn embers, then heaved the artist to his feet. With an arm around Leroq’s shoulders, Slocum half dragged him away.

  “Time for him to sleep it off,” Slocum said.

  “Damned son of a bitch drunk all the whiskey. We’re only a couple days out, and he polished off the whole bottle,” complained a man at Slocum’s right.

  This sparked new discussion, giving Slocum the chance to get Leroq away from the gathering. He shook the man into a half-alert state.

  “Where’s the ruby you stole?”

  “I? I would never steal a ruby. Knew a woman named Ruby. Knew one named Pearl, too. Ruby was prettier.”

  “You had a sneak thief steal from the owner of a sawmill. What’d you do with the ruby?”

  Leroq had passed out. Slocum got him to the wagon and spun fast, releasing the man to flop onto the ground beneath the wagon bed. He dropped to his knees beside Leroq and quickly searched him for the ruby. A gemstone that size would have made a big lump in the man’s pocket. Slocum didn’t find it, nor had he expected to. After his ribbing around the campfire and excessive drinking, Leroq would have flashed the ruby to bolster his reputation. A man who bragged like he did would have reacted instinctively.

  But he hadn’t. Slocum had watched carefully, and Leroq never even gestured toward a pocket where the ruby might be hidden.