Under a Turquoise Sky (14 page)

“Wait, wait,” Joe said as Clint positioned himself between her legs.

“Whenever you're ready, Joe,” he said.

She reached down between her legs and took hold of Clint's penis. She pulled it toward her, touched the spongy head of it to her wet pussy. She rubbed it up and down her wet lips, thoroughly wetting the tip.

“Okay,” she said, when they were both wet, “now…”

He let her do it. She pulled him to her, then into her. Once the head of his cock entered her, he pushed the rest of the way, but slowly. She gasped, closed her eyes, bit her lip, and eventually he was completely inside her.

“Okay?” he asked.

She smiled with her eyes still closed and said, “Perfect.”

He lowered himself over her, then began to move in and out slowly. At the same time he leaned down and licked her breasts, kissed her neck and then her lips. He slipped his tongue into her mouth and she accepted it, sucking it in, letting it out. It was as if he was fucking her with his cock and his tongue at the same time.

“Oooh, oh,” she said, lifting her knees, spreading her legs as he began to move faster.

Slowly, her legs came down and wrapped around his waist and she began moving in unison with him, matching his tempo. They both began to grunt and they were really testing just how sturdy the wooden bed frame was.

“Ooh, God, faster, Clint, harder…” she implored him.

She was a tall, full-bodied woman and he didn't have to be afraid that he might break her. It was her abstinence from sex that had been causing her to seem almost fragile, but he could feel the power in her legs and thighs, and since she was asking him for more he decided to give it to her. In fact, he decided to lose himself in what he was doing and stop worrying about the effect it might have on her.

He decided to plow her good.

 

Chance had another beer, decided Clint wasn't coming back to the tent any time soon, and probably wasn't going to come back to camp, either.

“Another one?” the bartender asked him.

“Naw,” Chance said. “I'm gonna turn in.”

“See ya tomorrow, or you headin' back?”

“I should be around.”

Chance waved and left the tent without talking to anyone else. The miners knew him, but he wasn't one of them.

He rebuilt the fire when he got back to the clearing, rolled himself up in his blanket and went to sleep. If Clint came back, it'd probably wake him. If not, he'd sleep 'til about first light, when he usually woke up. The information he had for Clint could wait until then.

 

Markstein finished his whiskey with Ed Martin and then took his leave to go back to his quarters. The bed was not wide, but he could see it had been well built by someone who knew what he was doing when it came to wood. The thin mattress had been covered with a clean sheet and blanket.

He sat on the bed and took out his gun, which he had not had to use yet. He looked at it, then set it down by the bed. He hoped he'd never have to use it on a man because he had lied to Clint. He didn't know if he'd be able to shoot a man, even to save his own life. It was just not something he had ever considered before.

He was bone tired, but he thought that he had accomplished a lot. He'd made a good impression, he thought, on both Joe English and Ed Martin, and maybe on some of the miners. It was enough for one day, and he had many days ahead of him.

He undressed, keeping on his long johns because it was colder in the mountains than it had been in Kingman, and then covered himself with the sheet and blanket.

After spending the previous night on the hard ground, the bed was so comfortable he fell asleep immediately.

 

After George Markstein left the office, Ed Martin had another glass of whiskey. He didn't like Markstein, or Clint Adams, because both men had made an impression on Joe. Martin still seethed inside about not having had enough money to buy out Hector Ramirez. The old Mex had insisted on all the money up front and refused to broker some kind of deal with Martin. Now here was George Markstein, willing to sell one percent of the mine, actually willing to practically give away controlling interest in the name of being “fair.”

He poured himself another whiskey, thinking that was no way to run a business.

 

Clint slid his hands beneath Joe's buttocks. It was a position he particularly liked, and he thought she'd like it, too. But once he got her butt lifted off the bed and starting slamming into her, he didn't care what she liked anymore. He started going at her like a thirsty man to a water hole. She began to pant and grunt, the bed began to make little jumps off the floor, and he started making his own sounds as he felt his release building up in him.

Joe felt her nails rake his back as she was also coming close to going over the edge, but at that moment finding her orgasm was her own problem. He was in the throes of his own and when he exploded, he let loose a bellow that, later, he was convinced had to have been heard throughout the camp.

Especially since it was followed closely by her scream…

Joe English's bed was not wide enough or long enough to share with Clint for the night, so as she lay sleeping—hopefully as exhausted as he was—he dressed and left her small cabin.

He walked through the camp in the middle of the night, alert for any movements. But there weren't any. The miners had all bedded down, and Isaac Brown's tent was dark. By the light of the moon he found his way to the clearing he was sharing with Buck Chance. As he was unrolling his bedroll, Chance roused, tipped his hat up from over his eyes and said, “I didn't expect you tonight.”

“I'm bushed,” Clint said. “All I want to do is sleep.”

“I can imagine.”

“What's that mean?” Clint asked, getting comfortable.

“The bartender told me you left with Joe English,” Chance said. “I can guess the rest.”

“Well…she invited me. Said she needed a man who had no connections up here, and would soon be gone.”

“Well,” Chance said, “far as I can see that describes you to a T.”

“Yup.” Clint folded his arms across his chest. “I'll see you in the morning.”

“I got some information for you.”

“Can it wait until morning?”

“Sure,” Chance said, pushing his hat back down over his eyes. “I'll get the coffee started.”

“Good,” Clint said. “Night.”

“Good night, Clint…you lucky sonofabitch.”

 

Clint woke to the smell of coffee—good, strong trail coffee. He rolled out of his blanket and got to his feet, then staggered to the fire on unsteady legs.

“I think I just may have to take you on the trail with me, Chance,” Clint said, accepting a cup of coffee. “This stuff is even better than mine.”

“I'll give your offer all the serious thought it deserves, Clint,” Chance said. “Are you interested in what I was gonna tell you last night?”

Clint took a big swallow of coffee first, then said, “Yeah, sure. Whataya got?”

“It's about Ed Martin,” Chance said, and then relayed the story about Martin he'd gotten from Al, the bartender.

“So Martin really shouldn't be welcoming George here with open arms,” Clint said when Chance was done.

“Or even worse.”

“You know Martin,” Clint said. “Is he capable of hiring someone to kill George?”

“I don't know him all that well, but I think anybody's capable of havin' somebody murdered,” Chance said. “What's it take, some money?”

“And somebody who wants the job, but there are plenty of those types around.”

“Like this fella Breckens?”

“He should be here any time now,” Clint said. “Maybe we'll find out something from him.”

“How are we gonna do that?”

“Easy,” Clint said. “We'll just ask him.”

 

“Why are we stopping here?” Kemp asked. “Ain't the Blue Lady just up ahead?”

“We're gonna dismount here and you two are gonna wait,” Breckens said. “I gotta go in and talk to the man who's payin' me.”

“Payin' you?” Drake asked. “Ain't he payin' us?”

“No,” Breckens said. “He's payin' me and I'm payin' you. See the difference?”

He dismounted, followed by the other two men.

“Watch my horse.”

“Okay,” Kemp said.

“Don't go anywhere,” he said. “I don't want you two to be seen.”

“Okay,” Drake said. “We get it, Carl.”

Breckens studied them for a few moments, wondering if the moment he was gone they'd hightail it over to Isaac Brown's tent. Finally, he left.

 

Ed Martin looked up from the desk when there was a knock at the back door. When he opened it and saw Carl Breckens, he flipped.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Martin demanded.

“Relax,” Breckens said. “Nobody saw me. I just wanted to check and see if I still have a job.”

“You do,” Martin said, “but only because I'd never find anyone else at such short notice.”

“Okay, so you still want them dead.”

“If you think you can get it done, Breckens. So far your record is not that good.”

“Don't you worry about my record,” Breckens said. “Just have the rest of my money ready!”

“You do the job and you'll get your money,” Martin said. “Now get away from here before somebody sees you.”

“Next time you see me you'll be payin' me,” Breckens said.

“I hope so,” Martin said, and he really did.

“Now you want us to go into camp?” Kemp asked.

“Adams doesn't know you,” Breckens said. “He's never seen you, so you'll be able to move around freely.”

“I thought he ain't never seen you either?” Drake asked.

“Well, I ain't sure about that,” Breckens said. “And maybe Edwards told him who I was and described me.”

“Well, he coulda described us, too,” Jeff Kemp said. “Didja ever think of that?”

“Just go into the camp of the Blue Lady,” Breckens said. “They got a tent that serves whiskey.”

“I could use a whiskey,” Kemp said.

“Me, too,” Drake said.

“There ya go,” Breckens said. “So this is perfect for the two of you.”

“And what do we do about Adams?” Kemp asked.

“Just locate him,” Breckens said. “And see if you can locate Markstein, too.”

“Who's he?” Drake asked.

“I told you, the man from the East who bought into the mine,” Breckens said. “He's the one we need to get rid of.”

“Not the Gunsmith?” Kemp asked.

“Only if he gets in the way,” Breckens said. “Look, just drift in, have a few drinks—”

“The saloon'll be open this early?” Drake asked, surprised.

“It's not a saloon, just a tent, and yes, it'll be open,” Breckens said. “Some of the miners work later, so they have to drink earlier. Isaac Brown knows that, so he serves liquor early.”

“Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be a miner,” Drake said to Kemp.

“Well, think about gettin' a job after you finish this one,” Breckens said. “Just get goin'.”

“What about you?” Kemp asked.

“Don't worry, I'll be around.”

The two men mounted up and headed into the mining camp. Breckens looked after them, shaking his head. If he could just use them to attract the Gunsmith's attention, he'd be able to take care of George Markstein and get the rest of his money from Ed Martin.

 

Clint and Chance finished their coffee with some bacon and beans Chance still had left, and then doused their fire. There were other smells in the air, cooking from other fires in the area, and from the miner's mess.

“What about the tent?” Clint asked. “Do they ever serve food?”

“They put out some hard-boiled eggs for the miners,” Chance said, “but that's about it.”

“Well,” Clint said, “I'm going to go over and see George.”

“If he's satisfied with his situation, will you be headin' out?” Chance asked. “Back to Kingman?”

“We've still got to deal with this fella Breckens and whoever he's got with him,” Clint said.

“Do you even know what he looks like?”

“If he's the man who was following us in town, I caught a glimpse of him once or twice,” Clint explained, “but mostly I just have Edwards's description to work from.”

“And the other two?”

“I've got nothing on them.”

“And it could be more than two, right?”

“I don't think Edwards was lying about that,” Clint said. “I think we're looking for three men.”

“So we go lookin' for three riders.”

“If Breckens has any kind of smarts,” Clint said, “he'll send the other two in first, as a distraction.”

“So we need to look for two men?”

“No,” Clint said, “I need to look for two men, you need to stick by George—unless you want to face the two.”

“I'll take one and leave two to you,” Chance said. “You've got more experience.”

“Okay then,” Clint said. “Let's go and see George, and on the way you can tell me what a typical day up here is like.”

“Well,” Chance said, “for one thing, you can drink any time up here…”

 

Clint and Chance knocked on the door of the cabin that was serving as Markstein's quarters. The man opened the door, looking haggard and anything but rested.

“I didn't sleep very well,” he confessed as he let them in. “I'm going to have to do something about getting a good mattress.”

“What's on your schedule for today, George?” Clint asked.

“Well, breakfast first, and then I have to meet with Ed Martin and Joe English to discuss some business.”

“Okay,” Clint said, “Buck is going to go with you today, until we're sure that you're safe.”

“And you?”

“I'm going to be the one who goes out and makes sure you're safe.”