A Hard Ride Home (6 page)

"You can't take it all, so you—here, gimme your hand. I'll show you."

Jesse took Emmett's fingers and curled them around the shaft, then covered them in his own, showing him how to stroke mostly with his hand. Emmett's mouth chased after his fingers and got the skin all wet and slick as he started to move. It wasn't all that complicated.

When Emmett moved his tongue around, feeling the ridge under the broad head of Jesse's prick, Jesse's hips stuttered forward and he filled his mouth up too fast, making him gag.

"Fuck—I'm sorry. Sorry."

Emmett hummed trying to tell him it was fine, and that made Jesse cry out like he'd gotten kicked, and then he started laughing hoarsely, his thighs trembling.

"Sheriff's a natural born cocksucker. Wait 'til I tell the girls."

Emmett pulled back with a wet pop. "You wouldn't!" he said, holding Jesse's prick hard and glaring at him, his cheeks hot.

"I wouldn't! I wouldn't. I'm teasin'. I'm. I wouldn't tell them."

There was something sober and desperate about the way Jesse said it and the way he tried to ease back at Emmett's mouth like it pained him not to be in there. Emmett cupped one hand at Jesse's ass—surprised to find it soft and pleasing to hold and easy to grip. He kept going, sucking and pulling, milking Jesse's hot, long prick.

"You feel good. Feels good. Ah—ah—stop, Emmett stop!"

It ached to pull away again. "What?"

Jesse grabbed onto Emmett's shoulder and sank to his knees and hugged onto him with one hand, the other pumping furiously at his prick as he cried out and spurted into the hay just beside Emmett. He was silent as he finished, his breath ragged and heavy, hardly slowing at all even when he sank back on his heels and just stared at his hand like he'd forgotten what hands looked like.

Emmett watched, thinking he'd like all day—all week—to do a lot of things to Jesse, see what noises he made and what other sorts of touching made him shiver and breathe like he was doing now. His heart pounded hard as he wondered what it would feel like to touch him down between his legs, where his body was tighter and harder than a girl's. He wanted to know what it was like to get in him.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his mouth feeling wet and warm from the friction of sucking Jesse's cock.

Jesse's head snapped up. He blinked at Emmett several times and then snorted a breath. "Yes."

"That straw scratching at you?"

Jesse laughed and straightened, swatting bits of straw off his ass. "Yeah." He gathered up his clothes, hopping and shrugging into them with the same lack of grace with which he'd gotten out of them.

It made Emmett smile.

"Help me with my boots," Jesse said, hanging onto Emmett's shoulder as he pulled on patched-up socks.

When he'd finished, Jesse crouched in front of Emmett and looked at him real close, lips parted like he had something to say. He closed his eyes and pushed against Emmett's lips with a chaste, dry kiss before giving Emmett's shoulder a soft shake. "Scram now and let me read my mail."

Emmett didn't much like to be ordered around, but he did as he was told anyway, no matter how badly he wanted to stay in the warm, dark barn with Jesse, all day long.

*~*~*

"Delia! Delia," Jesse said, shaking her awake. She sat up, her hair a mess around her sleep-creased face.

"What is it? You hurt?"

"No. It's bad, it's bad." Jesse was barefoot after changing out of his dusty clothes, so he just climbed into her little bed with her with half a mind to burrow under the lacy coverlet for an eternity.

"What is? You better tell me 'fore I call Miss Devaux. You're scaring me!"

"I had relations with the sheriff."

"Relations? You're not at church, Jesse," Delia said, giving his hair a gentle tug. "Why don't you just say you tumbled him? Was it good?"

Jesse shook his head, and then nodded, whispering, "I like him. Fuck, Delia. I like him."

"Oh… well. It'll pass. I swear."

"You can't tell Evelyn." It was the biggest rule. Bigger than remembering to change the sheets and keeping spurs off the beds. They were not supposed to get themselves smitten.

"She'll know, most likely, if you keep carrying on like this."

"I'm not carrying on," he groaned, hiding his face. His gut hurt. His chest hurt. He felt like Emmett had broken all his ribs to pieces.

"You are. You're trembling."

"I am not," he said, voice chattering out because he was.

"You sure he didn't hurt you?" Delia asked, touching the back of his neck.

Jesse tried to clear the tightness out of his lungs with a big, deep breath. "Real sure."

"Don't seem like it. Braid my hair for me?" Delia asked, scooting up against his chest until he sat up and started combing his fingers through her hair to make tight, flat plaits down each side. It was better than climbing down the neck of a whiskey bottle like he wanted to.

After a while his fingers stopped shaking.

But he didn't stop thinking about the sheriff.

Kissing Jesse shouldn't have changed anything, but the soft pressure seemed to linger on Emmett's lips for days. He caught himself touching his mouth in the morning. When he washed up, he imagined Jesse's hands on his body. When he comforted his prick at night before sleeping, he imagined his hands on Jesse's body. It didn't distract him from the things he needed to do, but it hung like a warm shadow over him, making him smile absently, which made him cross in turn. Discipline was essential for a lawman, and daydreaming about a whore's fine mouth and strong fingers wasn't the paramount of professionalism.

On a quiet Thursday afternoon, Emmett went to check on his mare and the kid he paid to keep her. He could never remember the boy's name, but he liked his hustle and knew the weekly stipend went straight to his large family. They lived in cramped quarters just outside of town. When he'd gone out and hired their oldest son, the mother, a happy woman with three children hiding behind her skirts, had given Emmett a jar full of preserves. This time, Emmett brought a small bag of sugar and another full of coffee beans to the stable where he rented a stall.

"The coffee's for your pa, you hear?" he told the kid. "Don't want to stunt your growth. The sugar's to share with your ma and your brothers and sisters."

Jack or Jasper or Jacob gave him an eager nod where he stood on a wooden stool to reach the mare's back with a currying brush. "Sheriff, sir, are you gonna stop the thieves who took our lady goat? Ma says the widow in town won't sell any of her lady goats and I sure miss the milk."

Emmett paused, his hand on the mare's strong, smooth forehead. "I didn't hear word of goat thieves."

The kid swallowed. "Well. Pa said we can't say nothing. He said we don't want trouble from—"

"Emmett! Sheriff Grady!" The sharp sound startled Emmett's mare and she sidestepped into the boy, sending him sprawling into the sawdust, unharmed beyond a good soak from the pail he overturned on the way down.

It was Jesse.

Emmett hurried to help the boy up. He felt cross—partly on account of Jesse startling his horse, and mostly on account of the way his heart had set to beating faster at the sound of Jesse's voice. He turned sharply, primed to give a stern lecture on how one did and did not approach a horse's stall, when he caught sight of the wild look in Jesse's eyes and the unmistakable redness of one cheek.

"What is it?"

"Sheriff," Jesse said, gaze darting to the boy.

"Run along, son, I'll finish up here." Emmett waited until the boy darted off, clutching the coffee and sugar tightly to his chest.

"It's Wa—it's Mayor Grady's man, Curtis Callahan. He came in this afternoon, not a cent on him. Says he don't have to pay what with being a government employee."

"He's hardly—"

"He got fresh with Rose. Roscoe's away this week, out in Lazarus visiting his sister and her kids, and he's got her upstairs now, and the door's blocked up."

They were already on the move, running across the street toward the Willow, Jesse keeping up fine with his long-legged pace. "You tried to stop him?" Emmett asked, gesturing to Jesse's cheek.

Jesse's long fingers ghosted over the reddened skin and he exhaled sharply, expression gone dark in a way Emmett didn't have time to parse out. "I can't do much to Curtis, Sheriff."

"Nonsense. Working on my father's ranch doesn't grant him immunity in this town."

"Right," Jesse said, as if he meant just the opposite.

As their boots thudded on the front steps of the Willow, Evelyn stormed out, Roscoe's rifle in hand. "I don't care who that man answers to. We've got rules here, standards. No one lays a hand on my girls." She glanced at Jesse, and her expression faltered.

"Where is he?" Emmett asked.

"Upstairs in Jo and Bea's room. Think you can climb to the window up the back?"

"There's a way up. I'll show him," Jesse said, setting off at a jog around the building.

Crisis or not, Emmett couldn't help watching the way Jesse's shoulders moved where his shirt clung to his back. When he'd set off to buy some of Jesse's time, it hadn't occurred to him that they'd continue interacting—that he'd speak to the man knowing exactly what his mouth tasted like, and how smooth the skin over his ribs was.

"Here," Jesse said, showing up the lattice work on the corner of the building, where some scraggly vines looked like they hadn't produced flowers or fruit in a decade. "You don't weigh too much more than me. It'll hold."

"Been climbing before, then?"

"A time or two."

Emmett set off right away, making it easily to a wooden ledge he could shimmy along.

"Second window. Careful now, he ain't armed, but he's roostered." Jesse backed up a few steps to watch.

Emmett reached the window after a few shuffling motions along the ledge. At the sound of a struggle, Emmett pushed the netting out of the window and followed it through. It wasn't a particularly graceful entrance, and it bought him a glancing blow to the back of the head.

"Sheriff!" Rose screamed. "Look out!"

Emmett rolled away and narrowly missed another blow. Wood splintered, stinging at his cheek, but the man attacking him moved unsteadily, heavy with liquor. Emmett scrambled to stand and took quick survey of the situation. Curtis stood about six and a half feet tall, and he held a large club that looked to be one of the posts from the girls' bed. In the corner, perched barefoot on the nightstand with her bodice tore open, Rose held a small, gleaming pistol trained on Curtis. A heavy dresser blocked the bedroom door.

"All right now," Emmett said, showing the man his gun. He was more than quick enough to draw it before Curtis could do much with the club. "Be kind enough to move that dresser out of the way so the lady can make her exit."

"She's no lady," Curtis said. He spit on the floor. "She cain't open her legs for every cowboy who rides into town and say no to me. I'm a gentlemen."

"I can see that." Emmett drew and fired, hitting the wood Curtis held in his hand. The recoil set his arm buzzing, and Rose gave a little shriek at the sound, but it did the trick. Curtis dropped the makeshift club, swearing under his breath, and grabbed a hold of the dresser to slide it out of the way.

"Miss Devaux's waiting in the hall for you," Emmett said, giving Rose an encouraging nod. "Go on and let the ladies fuss over you."

"Sweet on her, huh?" Curtis asked, watching her dart through the door the moment she could get it open.

"This establishment has rules, Mr. Callahan, and you'll abide by them. Sober up, wash up, and cash up front. I don't care who you work for."

Curtis laughed. "You ought to take care, Grady. We don't take to lippy lawmen 'round here, no matter your name."

Emmett gestured with his pistol. "March on downstairs. We can chat all about Silver Creek's customs while you sober up at the jailhouse."

When they walked through the saloon, the girls were scarce. Evelyn stood with the rifle and old Elsie stood beside her, wielding a great big cast iron skillet. Emmett glanced about as best he could without looking too obvious about it, but Jesse was nowhere to be seen.

*~*~*

"Sure you're all right?" Jesse asked.

"You asked me ten times already," Rose said, splashing him. "He pushed me around and pawed at me but he didn't even get a hand up my skirt 'fore I pulled a gun on him. He got mad as hell and ripped the bed apart, but I guess he knew I meant business."

She sat in the great big tub in the barn, soaking off her nerves and sipping on cordial from Elsie's stocks. It wasn't the first time one of them had to go soak after a bad customer came in thinking he could have his way with a whore without abiding by the rules of the house. Sometimes the girls got a shot off when it counted, and sometimes they didn't get to the stashed away pistols quick enough.

"Thanks for fetching your sheriff," Rose said quietly.

Jesse felt his face heat. He took a comb to the ends of Rose's blonde hair where it hung in a silky fall over the edge of the tub. "Hush. You know he ain't mine."

She hummed. "You all right from the wallop that cuss gave you?"

"It's nothing." The slap had damn near knocked him out, but it had only been a slap—an insult. Curtis hit him like he was one of the women. He'd known Jesse had no recourse. It had been a gamble going for the sheriff, but it didn't seem like Curtis had put two and two together.

"Miss Devaux says we can make new dresses in the fall. Sara sent for patterns from Paris, France."

"She said she'll make me a pair of leggings with your cast-offs. Just for sleeping in."

"Craving silkiness up on your man parts?" Rose asked, craning her head to grin at him. It made the comb catch in her hair and Jesse laughed softly when she winced and swore.

"I can find plenty of silkiness when I crave it," he said, kissing the back of her head.

"Oh I know it. Jo said you damn near tore up her petticoat flouncing around in it for that fancy gambler."

"Now I can't help it when a good paying customer has a perfectly reasonable request. She shouldn't have left it out on the line where he could see it. Temptation can drive a man to madness."