Straw Men (9 page)

Clint opened his eyes and immediately regretted it.

The first thing he felt was enough pain from the back of his head to convince him his skull had been cracked. The only way to make it hurt any worse was to move, which he tried to do out of pure reflex. Thankfully he couldn't move more than an inch or so in any direction before he was stopped.

He couldn't see anything, but it took a few more seconds for Clint to realize there was something tied over his eyes. Then he felt the first pain again as his blindfold dug into the sore spot on his head. After a bit of squirming, Clint figured out he was lying on his side. Since the pain was only getting worse, he decided to sit still for a second and let his ears do some of the work.

It was fairly quiet wherever he was. Apart from a few birds and some running water, the only things Clint could hear were some subdued voices. The couple of words he could pick out weren't English. While Clint might not have been an expert in languages, he recognized Navajo when he heard it. That bit of knowledge caused a whole flood of thoughts to cut loose within his head. Even those hurt.

Trying to keep his movements subtle, Clint flexed the muscles in his arms and legs. Sure enough, those were all tied up pretty well. From the feel of the surfaces against his hands, Clint knew he was lying on the ground. There were fires crackling in the distance and a couple of subdued conversations being held. That was fairly encouraging.

Clint didn't need to feel around his waist to guess his weapons were missing. In the end, he had to take comfort from the simple fact that he was still breathing. When he thought back to what had happened before he was knocked out, Clint had to wonder how that little miracle had occurred.

When Clint tried to stretch his back, he heard a flutter of whispers coming from only a few feet away. He froze and strained his ears to try and pick up anything at all. The only word he thought he heard was Navajo for “awake.”

Because his hands were tied and he didn't have any weapons, Clint didn't have many options. Since his feet were also tied and he couldn't sit upright or even get a look at where he was, his options dwindled down to something close to none. Rather than count on another miracle taking place, he kept motionless and tried to act like he was still asleep.

Clint could feel someone coming closer. The sound of movement was a subtle brushing nearby, followed by a vague heat that could only come from another body. Soon Clint felt something soft brushing against his arm. That was followed by the same voice that had been talking a few moments ago. The voice was most definitely female.

“Are you awake?” she asked.

There was silence before Clint felt a hand brush against his cheek. After that, light flooded into his eyes in such a rush that he was blinded for a few seconds. Peeling open his eyelids felt more like tearing them apart after they'd been sewn shut.

After a few blinks, Clint could make out some details. There was a woman with smooth, dark skin looking at him. One thing was for certain: it was too late to pretend to be asleep. Clint lifted his head to look back at her. When he tried to ask a question, he realized something was still wrapped around the lower portion of his face. The woman glanced about nervously before slowly reaching out to pull the gag away from his mouth.

Stopping short of removing the gag, she warned, “You will have to stay quiet.”

As much as it hurt to do so, Clint nodded.

The woman had a slender face that was accentuated by soft, high cheekbones. Her skin was the color of desert clay and her hair had the thick, lustrous shine of a full-blooded native. She was careful while removing the gag and watched Clint's face every second of the way. When she peeled back the gag, she winced as if she feared some sort of punishment might come from any direction. Leaning down, she placed her lips so close to him that Clint could feel the heat from her breath when she spoke.

“Ahiga is still very angry,” she said. “It is best if you stay asleep for a while longer.”

“But where—”

Before Clint could get another word out, he felt the woman press down on top of him as if she were trying to gently smother him. It was a strange combination as she tried to keep him from making another sound without actually hurting him. Since she didn't want to take her hands away from the gag, Clint tried again to speak while he still could. Suddenly, something pressed against his mouth.

Since her own face was closer to him than her hands, she quickly placed her lips against his mouth. Even after Clint stopped trying to talk, it took her a few seconds to let up on the pressure. Her lips were warm and dry and her eyelids fluttered as if even she couldn't believe she was kissing him. After a few more seconds, she moved her head back just enough for her to speak.

“I've been watching you since those soldiers rode into camp,” she said. “I know you were not working with the killer who started all the shooting. You must trust me and keep quiet.”

“How long?” Clint asked.

“I'll come for you again.” With that, she eased the gag up over Clint's mouth. She had some trouble getting it in place, since he squirmed and twisted his head to fight her. When she finally pulled the gag down in frustration, she stared at him with urgency. “You must stay quiet.”

“Just tell me your name,” Clint insisted.

Sighing in frustration and looking around, she met his eyes once more and said, “My name is Fawn.”

Rather than say anything else, Clint nodded and allowed the gag to be placed over his mouth. Fawn also put the blindfold on again, but made sure it was loose enough for Clint to see some light at the edges of the cloth. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. He needed the rest anyway.

Clint actually managed to fall asleep a few times. With the pain in his head still throbbing, he figured at least one of those times had actually been him passing out. Even so, he felt his strength slowly leaking back the more rest he tried to get. Just getting that one glimpse at his surroundings and being able to see a bit of daylight did him a world of good.

He could hear voices nearby, and every now and then, heavy footsteps would approach Clint and then stomp away. One of those times, Clint heard someone mention Ahiga by name. By the sound of it, Fawn had been right. Whoever Ahiga was, he was definitely angry. The few words Clint could catch and understand were not encouraging.

As near as Clint could tell, Ahiga wanted to kill him. One or two of the times he'd approached had probably been for that very purpose. Since he couldn't move, didn't have any weapons, and didn't even know where he was, Clint did the only thing he could do. He kept still and pretended to be asleep. Despite the fact that it took no effort for him to lie there, Clint felt like it was the hardest path he could have chosen.

Every time he felt those stomping footsteps, Clint wanted to jump up and see who was making them.

Whenever he heard threats being hurled at his back, Clint wanted to sit up and answer them.

But he didn't do any of those things. He gritted his teeth and played dead until he thought he'd rather take his chances with facing real death before rolling over one more time. Fortunately, the next set of footsteps he heard weren't angry. They were more like soft cat's feet padding upon the floor. Once those steps got close to him, Clint heard a familiar voice.

“Are you awake?” Fawn whispered.

Clint nodded.

Her hands brushed against his face to remove the blindfold and gag with soft precision. Clint opened his eyes and only needed a second or two to adjust to the dim glow coming in from outside. His throat was dry, so he spoke softly to keep from hacking loud enough to draw attention.

“Where…am I?” he croaked.

“Here,” Fawn said as she slipped an arm beneath Clint's shoulder and helped him to sit up. Once he was situated, she held a waterskin to his mouth.

The water was cool, but still burned when it trickled over his parched throat. A few more sips were enough to remedy the situation and soon Clint was gulping the water down.

“You're in our camp,” Fawn said before Clint could ask his question again. “It's about half a day's ride from the spot where those soldiers were killed.”

“They're all dead?”

She blinked and lowered her head. Her raven black hair drifted down to frame the long, smooth lines of her face and swayed like strands of silk in a gentle breeze. “The leader was killed and…you killed the other one.”

Hearing that put a knot in Clint's stomach. “The other one…did he kill many others?”

“Four,” Fawn replied. “Including one of your own. Our medicine man is singing for two more, but they are hurt very badly.”

“Nolan killed the lieutenant?” Clint said under his breath. Seeing the puzzled expression on Fawn's face, he asked, “Did the one who started shooting kill the leader of the soldiers?”

She slowly shook her head. “I don't know. Ahiga says that one killed another soldier that was found a little ways outside the other camp.”

Clint figured she was talking about the scout that had brought McGurn to the meeting. He didn't know why Nolan would kill that scout, but Clint also didn't know why the gunman would just open fire the way he did. One thing he did know was that he intended to find out.

“Can you untie my hands?” Clint asked.

Although she seemed reluctant, Fawn didn't refuse him right away. “Now is not a good time for you to leave.”

“Ahiga wants to kill me. If I don't leave soon, I'll be dead.” Clint could tell his words were having an impact, but it wasn't a big enough impact just yet. “Why did you help me?” he asked.

Fawn blinked and nervously shifted her eyes away from him. “I was there when the shooting started. I saw what you tried to do.”

“I didn't want that to happen,” Clint insisted.

“I know. If you hadn't stopped that killer, there would have been a lot more blood spilled. If Ahiga makes his voice heard by enough of our people, blood will be spilled anyway.”

“Then let me go. Nobody will know what you did. They'll just think I escaped on my own. You came this far, Fawn. Just do what you know is right.”

“You'll go to the rest of the soldiers and bring them here,” she said. “I cannot allow that.”

“Then why come to me at all?”

Since she seemed to have trouble finding the right words, Fawn kept her face close to him and her eyes locked upon Clint's. He seized the opportunity to lean forward a bit more until he felt his lips touch hers. The moment Clint started the kiss, Fawn had no trouble finishing it. She slipped both hands up to slide against Clint's face and slip around through his hair. All Clint had to do was push forward just a little bit more and she parted her lips to let his tongue slip into her mouth. She returned the favor and tasted him as if she'd been starving for weeks and was now finally getting the feast she'd been after.

Before long, Clint felt her body pressing against him and her hands wandering over his shoulders until they caressed the muscles in his arms. When she slid her hand down along his stomach and then reached a little lower, Fawn touched the erection growing between Clint's legs.

“If you're not going to let me go,” Clint said, “then you must have come here for a reason.”

Fawn locked her eyes upon Clint, straddled him, and then slowly peeled her tunic up and over her head.

Fawn moved with as much grace as her namesake. She wriggled out of her tunic and set it aside without making a sound. She then started to pull apart the buttons of Clint's shirt, but only loosened enough for her to slide her hands under his clothing to touch the bare skin of his chest. When she leaned her head down to close the distance between herself and Clint, she closed her eyes and waited for his touch.

She didn't have to wait long. Clint leaned up to kiss her, savoring the feel of her lips as her hands continued to move over his skin. Rather than think about the death and blood and pain that filled his more recent memories, Clint gave in to what was happening. If he was to be executed by these Indians, he wasn't about to turn his nose up at one last chance for something as pleasant as Fawn's soft body on top of him.

Fawn never took her lips off him as she unfastened Clint's belt and then pulled open the front of his jeans. Sliding her entire body down a little ways, she eased his pants down and then guided him between her legs. Even Fawn's hands were soft and smooth as she stroked Clint's rigid cock a few times before easing it inside of her. When she lowered herself down onto him, Fawn let out a contented breath and closed her eyes as if she were in the middle of a dream.

Come to think of it, Clint wondered if he was the one dreaming. As Fawn rocked slowly on top of him, the rest of the world seemed to quiet down. When he turned his head to get a look on either side of her, all he could see were thick shadows. The only indication he had of the outside world was the warm breeze that drifted in.

Fawn straightened her back and placed her hands upon Clint's chest. Gazing down at him, she let her head droop forward so her hair spilled over her shoulders to brush against his neck and chest. Her fingertips pressed into his skin as she slowly ground her hips back and forth. Just as she'd rocked all the way forward, she pushed her hips a bit more to take every last inch of him inside of her. She clenched her eyes shut and tensed as a little quiver worked its way through her body.

More than anything, Clint wanted to get his hands on her. He strained against the ropes that were binding him just so he could cup her backside in both hands and guide her so he could pump into her. At the moment, he wanted that even more than to get away from wherever it was he was being held. Perhaps that was written on his face, because Fawn let her body drop forward so she could reach behind him and grab on to his bindings.

Instead of untying him, she gripped the ropes around his wrists and rested her head close to Clint's face. “I will let you go,” she whispered. “I just wanted to keep you here for a little longer.”

“I'm…glad you did,” Clint replied as he was nearly overwhelmed by the combined sensations of Fawn's hard little nipples brushing against his chest and her pussy tightening around him.

“I saw the fire in your eyes when you first rode into camp,” she continued. “I could not stop thinking about it.”

Clint leaned back and pumped up into her. The move took Fawn by surprise, but the look in her eyes showed it was a pleasant one. She started to speak again, but her breath was taken away as Clint pumped into her again.

His hips thrust up like a piston, filling Fawn's body until the little climax that had already started to fade became something that filled her entire body like an explosion. She pulled in a breath, which became a gasp, and then bit down on her lower lip to keep from crying out.

Clint's hands were balled into fists behind him. He lowered his hips to discover that Fawn had gotten her legs beneath herself and was squatting on top of him. She lowered her hips to follow his every move. The moment she seemed to catch her breath, Clint pumped into her and took it away again.

Fawn's climax made every muscle in her body tense. Her fingers dug into his skin and she snapped her head back until the plea sure finally subsided enough for her to open her eyes again. Sweat glistened from her brow as she pumped her hips faster and faster in short strokes that sent Clint directly over his own threshold.

When he exploded inside of her, it was so intense that he thought he might have snapped his hands free of the ropes. But the knots of those ropes had already been untied. Fawn remained on top of him and gently placed a finger upon his lips.

By the time he caught his own breath, Clint felt the bit of weight that had been on top of him move away. He brought his arms around to work a few of the kinks from his shoulders and asked, “Why help me?”

“You tried to help before. You should not be killed for that.”

“And…the rest?”

She crawled next to him, a smooth, naked presence in the shadows. “That was because I wanted to. Now go.”

Clint was never one to refuse a lady.