“We can get an entire company into the field and go after them. I think I have a couple likely hideouts marked, when the colonel gets back.”

  “He’ll send out an entire company?”

  “We’ll have to send out enough men to handle them,” Tartaglia said. “These aren’t the usual scum we’ve seen before. They’re real desperadoes.”

  Slocum pulled away and thought hard. None of this made any sense. He had seen Davies acting no different from the outlaws he had killed. And he had taken upward of five hundred stolen dollars rather than turning it back to the station agent in Newsome. As much as it bothered Slocum, he had to admit that only Davies and the three privates in his squad might be crooked.

  He frowned as a new thought hit him. Why was Tartaglia sneaking out to talk over plans for future sorties in a feed shed? And he was discussing it with the others, not ordering them. He was the boss the one private had spoken of, back where they had killed the outlaws. Slocum couldn’t help but shake his head in wonder that Tartaglia could be considered the brains of this gang.

  Slocum crept away, making sure he wouldn’t be seen by the sentries, and went to the dark office of the post commander. The door opened with a loud creaking sound that echoed across the parade ground. Slocum froze, waiting to see if anyone had heard. When nobody came running, guns brandished and blood in their eyes, he slipped into the colonel’s office. He fumbled in his pocket, found a lucifer and struck it against the side of the desk. The brief flare allowed him to find the coal oil lamp on a shelf behind the desk.

  In spite of how risky it was, Slocum lit the lamp and placed it on the edge of the commander’s desk. He settled in the chair and looked across the papers strewn here, not sure what he was hunting for. Page by page he went through the inventory lists, orders of the day and the myriad other bits of paper that kept a post, even one as small as Fort Crumpland, running.

  When he found a stack of papers with orders for the various patrols and rosters showing the field commanders, Slocum began leafing through to find the orders Sergeant Atkins had been given. As he worked down to the bottom of the pile, he realized these were the sortie orders issued by Colonel Holman since he had assumed command of the fort.

  He found the sheet detailing the orders given Joshua Atkins, but before Slocum could read it, he heard footsteps coming toward the office. Slocum hastily snuffed out the lamp and dived behind the desk as the door opened.

  “Who’s there?” came the cold voice.

  Slocum reached for his Colt Navy, slung in its cross-draw holster at his left hip, knowing he would have to shoot his way out.

  5

  Slocum’s thumb rested on the trigger of his six-shooter as he waited for the soldier to enter the room.

  “Who’s there? Come on out now, ya hear?” Boots scraped on the dirty wood floor as the soldier entered.

  Slocum tensed when he heard the hammer on the guard’s rifle metallically click back. The soldier was ready to fire. So was Slocum, though he knew he would never be able to shoot it out without bringing the rest of the post down on his head. The soldier came closer, and Slocum turned to face that direction.

  “You in here? Show yerse’f.”

  The toes of the soldier’s boots showed around the edge of the desk. Slocum pointed his six-gun at the man’s feet, intending to shoot him there. Slocum knew firsthand how painful it was having a bullet rip through your foot. For an instant that was all you could think about. Slocum would have to silence the soldier once and for all while he was disabled because of the unexpected pain.

  “What you doin’ in there, Private?”

  “Suh, I heard somethin’ movin’ in heah.”

  “That’s the colonel’s office. Get your ass out of there and back on patrol.”

  “But, suh, I—”

  “Do it now!”

  Slocum recognized Lieutenant Tartaglia’s voice. He remained tense until he heard the office door close. Sagging, he took a second to get his breath back. He hadn’t even realized he had been holding it in, waiting for the fight that he had avoided.

  Poking his head around the side of the desk, he saw that he was again alone in Colonel Holman’s office. He returned his six-shooter to its holster and got to his feet, moving quickly to the door and opening it enough to peer out. Tartaglia was mustering his men, Sergeant Davies going up and down their ranks quietly talking to slackers and causing them to brace themselves even more.

  Slocum slipped out of the commander’s office and went around the building to where he had tethered his horse. Leaving now would be difficult—or perhaps this was the proper time, with most of the soldiers hanging on Tartaglia’s every word during a nighttime muster. From the snippets Slocum heard, the officer was telling his troopers about the Lansing Gang and how dangerous they were.

  Swinging into the saddle, Slocum turned his horse and walked it slowly to the waist-high fence at the eastern side of the fort. He looked over the fence, estimated his chances, then wheeled his horse around and retraced his path a dozen yards. He patted the horse’s neck, then got it running straight for the fence. With a surge, the horse launched itself gracefully and cleared the fence easily. Slocum grunted as the horse landed on the far side of the fence and kept running.

  From behind he heard sentries calling to one another, asking what was happening. Then he left even these feeble queries behind and rode into the cold, clear night. Under the bright stars, Slocum rode for more than an hour before pitching camp for the night. He lay on his back, staring up into the sky, wondering what he ought to do. He fell asleep sometime later, thoughts of Laurel Atkins sweetening his dreams.

  Slocum stretched and then settled down in the saddle as he reached the town limit of Newsome, Utah. The quiet got on his nerves, but he realized it was probably like this most times. No bawdy houses or boisterous saloons spilling angry patrons out into the streets to fight. Not even public drunkenness to lend some flavor to the neatly swept board-walks, or dead animals drawing flies in the street to remind him how much he disliked populated areas.

  He rode slowly to the Emperor Hotel and dismounted. He hadn’t remembered to find where Laurel was staying, but there were only two choices. This hotel had been the one mentioned by the barkeep and looked to be the better of the two in town. More than this, it fit well with the way he thought of the lovely blond woman. She had been dirty, but it had been trail dust, not the grime garnered from long, hard work. How a woman whose husband was a sergeant could get by with so little sign of hard work marring her features was a mystery, but Slocum was too tired to care.

  After using the boot scraper outside the hotel door to clean off his soles, Slocum went into the hotel lobby. It was midday, and he expected to see a few people in the hotel dining room finishing their noon meal, but the place was empty.

  “Help you, sir?” The clerk behind the counter sounded polite, but Slocum saw how he kept one hand under the counter. If he had to hazard a guess, Slocum would have said the clerk’s fingers were curled around the butt of a pistol.

  “I’m looking for Mrs. Atkins.”

  “Mrs. Atkins? I’m not sure we have a guest here with that name.”

  “I work for her,” Slocum said. “Tell her I’ll be at the stables tending my horse if she wants to hear what I have to say about her husband.”

  “If I see anyone answering to Mrs. Atkins, I’ll let her know.”

  “My name’s Slocum and she does know me,” Slocum said. He returned to the street and wondered at a clerk so actively protecting a guest’s privacy. In most places, the clerk would have told Slocum what room she was in. Slocum had to admit that Laurel might not be staying here. She could have found a boardinghouse or be staying with friends or relatives, but he had been sure she had only just arrived in Newsome.

  Slocum led his horse to the livery stables and found the hand working out back, pitching hay. He dickered a little, swapping some work of his own for use of a stall and hay for his horse. Slocum was currying the horse when he became aware of someone watching him. He took a deep sniff and knew right away who it was. Without turning, he spoke.

  “I’m glad my message got to you, Mrs. Atkins.”

  She came into the stables and stood a few feet from him, looking fearful.

  “I wasn’t staying at that hotel. But the clerk knew of me and told me you’d stopped by.”

  “I should have found out where you’d be before I rode out,” Slocum said.

  “Wh-what’ve you found out about my . . . my husband?”

  “Not a lot,” Slocum admitted. “There’s a new post commander name of Holman. He sent your husband out on a patrol right after he took over at Fort Crumpland. Your husband’s well thought of by most of the men at the post, but they’re not too inclined to talk about him or his patrol. Sounds as if he was sent out to pacify Indians who’ve gone off the reservation.”

  “How’s that?” Laurel came closer, then perched on a hay bale next to Slocum’s stall. She wore a clean dress now, and all trace of the grime that had marred her good looks before had been scrubbed away, leaving a woman even younger than she had appeared before. Her blond hair was done up in a tight bun, and she wore a black ribbon around her neck, contrasting with both her white skin and the crisply starched, prim white blouse she wore. Long legs dangled over the edge of the bale, mostly hidden by the corduroy skirt, but now and then Slocum got an enticing view of her ankles as she swung her feet back and forth. He looked away when he caught sight of naked leg above her shoe. It wasn’t right for him to have the thoughts he was having about a married woman.

  “I found a set of orders in Holman’s office—don’t ask how I saw the orders—that showed it was easier and safer for a few men to palaver with the Indians than for the post to send out a couple companies to round them up and take the renegades back to their reservation in shackles. I’d say this shows how much confidence the colonel has in your husband.”

  “You saw the orders?” Her voice was low, choked and sounded close to breaking.

  “I ought to have brought them along to show you, but that wouldn’t have been right.”

  “You’ve done so much, Mr. Slocum. But I have to know. Is my fa—my husband alive? Where is he?”

  Slocum stopped currying his horse and looked at her squarely.

  “What’s going on? He’s not your husband, is he? Who’s Joshua Atkins?”

  “Please, tell me,” she pleaded. “Is he still alive?”

  Slocum shrugged. “Can’t say, but there’s no report telling different. Sergeant Atkins’s orders were vague. Reckon he was ordered to stay in the field as long as he kept the renegades from bothering settlers.” Slocum fixed his cold green eyes firmly on the woman. Laurel blushed and looked down, a small child caught in the act of doing something forbidden. “Who is he?”

  “Joshua Atkins,” she said. “I told you. And I’m Laurel Atkins. That’s not a lie.”

  “He’s not your husband, is he?”

  She shook her head, then looked up as anger flared. Her blue eyes flashed and her chin set firmly.

  “I’m his daughter and have every right to know what’s happened to him. He’s my father!”

  “Why lie about it?”

  “I . . . The men in these parts are of two kinds. The married men here are looking to add another wife to their harem. I find that so terrible it makes me spit.”

  “The other kind?”

  “They’re worse. They want the same thing—but without marriage!”

  “So saying you were married was supposed to make me think differently about you?”

  “I didn’t want whomever I hired to make a pass at me. I wanted him to find my father!”

  “I’d say you failed on both counts,” Slocum said, tossing the currycomb to the stall floor. “I didn’t find your pa.”

  “But,” she started, then looked at him with a different light in her eyes. “But you said I’d failed on both counts.”

  “I’d never make a pass at another man’s wife,” Slocum said, going to her. He put his hands around her trim waist and lifted her off the hay bale. She stood a good eight inches shorter than his six-foot height, but that seemed just about right to Slocum.

  And to Laurel Atkins.

  He bent over and kissed her. She threw her arms around his neck and kept his head down so she could return the kiss with even more passion than his. His hand rested in the small of her back and drew her closer until he felt the firmness of her breasts crushing into his chest. She smelled sweet and pure, and he knew he smelled like a mule. That didn’t bother him, so Slocum occupied himself with more important worries.

  How could he kiss her enough? His mouth devoured hers, then moved along the line of her jaw so his tongue could tease her earlobe. He felt the strength going from her legs as her knees buckled with desire.

  “I saw you, and I wanted you. It was wrong, John, so wrong, but it’s true. But you had to find my father. I wanted you and I wanted you to find him and—”

  Slocum silenced her with another kiss. This time their lips parted and their tongues lightly touched. Breaths coming faster, both Laurel and Slocum’s tongues danced about, playing hide and seek, dashing in and out until the two of them sank down to sit on the hay bale.

  Slocum moved his attentions lower, to Laurel’s swan-like throat. The smooth white flesh flowed like silk beneath his tongue as he worked even lower. First one button and then another popped free until her snowy bosoms pushed upward. Slocum wasn’t content with letting his tongue do such fine work. His fingers nimbly unbuttoned her blouse to her waist.

  She pulled back her shoulders as he exposed her naked flesh so her breasts would thrust out even more.

  “Go on, suckle them,” she said in a husky, low voice. “I love the feel of your tongue. I want more, John, more!”

  He obliged. He sank down so his face was hidden in the deep canyon between her breasts, then he turned to one side and began kissing, lightly nipping and licking all the way to the summit of her left teat. She gasped and tossed her head back, her long blond hair flying free of its restraints as he pressed his lips into the rubbery pink nub he found.

  “Yes, so nice, yes, John.”

  She threw her arms around his head and held him in place as his lips kissed the nipple and then tongued it into a stiffness that matched his own. His manhood was straining to escape its cloth prison and was becoming painful. But he continued his oral ministrations, first on her right and then her left. He felt her go boneless as desire rippled through her from head to toe.

  “More, don’t stop, oh, oh!” Laurel cried out as Slocum ran his hand under her skirt and up the inside of her leg. Smooth flesh flowed beneath his fingertips and then he found paradise. His hand touched the dampness of the nest between her legs. He wasted no time inserting a finger into her tightness.

  Laurel sagged and leaned back, her legs rising. She tugged at her skirts to expose the long, sleek legs that Slocum had noticed right away when he had been telling her about her father’s mission. Those legs parted and revealed the delightful, delicious center of her being.

  Slocum twisted his finger about in its warm, clenched tunnel. Then he applied his mouth to the tangled blond bush hiding the woman’s nether lips. She arched her back and ground herself into his face. Slocum’s tongue snaked out and slithered around, driving her even wilder with need.

  “I . . . I need you, John. Please, no more of that. I need you!”

  He lifted up from his berth and saw her face framed by her heaving breasts. She reached down and caught the pink nubs between her own thumbs and forefingers and began tweaking. Every time she squeezed down, her body jerked with yearning for what he could give her.

  Slocum got his knees brought up and then stood as Laurel lay sprawled back across the hay bale. Her eyes were glazed with lust, but she was not so far gone in her own desires that she didn’t know what he wanted. Her trembling fingers reached out and began working at the buttons on his fly.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed when his fleshy pole snapped out, already at attention. Her fingers closed around the thick shaft and drew him closer, down on top of her. Laurel’s thighs parted willingly, wantonly, as she guided him forward.

  “You surely are about the most beautiful woman I ever saw,” Slocum said, hardly exaggerating at all. Laurel was beautiful and all the more so because of the flush in her cheeks, her throat, the crimson that extended all the way down to the tops of her breasts. She was hot and bothered, and he had just the antidote for her fever.

  He allowed her to tug and pull him ever closer to the delightful spot where his mouth had been only minutes before. The thick head of his manhood brushed those pinkly scalloped lips, then entered until he was an inch within. He paused, relishing the feel of the heat boiling from within. Laurel’s hand dropped away, and she flopped back on the bale, eyes closed, chest heaving, and caught up in the throes of passion.

  With agonizing slowness, Slocum entered her. He felt the tightness crushing down all around his thickness as he slid ever deeper until he was entirely hidden within her. She began trembling like a leaf, but Slocum did not move. He experienced her fully, the firm warm female sheath all about him, the sight of her breasts glowing naked in the pale light filtering into the stables, the look of utter abandon on her face. He loved every instant, every sight, every sensation working its way into his groin.

  Then he could stand it no longer. He pulled back, then rammed forward with enough force to lift her buttocks off the bale. Slocum began rotating his hips, grinding his crotch into hers. Laurel cried out repeatedly, incoherent words, small sounds, shouts of desire being released.

  Slocum clutched her bare buttocks and lifted her even higher off the hay so he could drill back in. Faster and faster he moved, building friction and desire in them both until she gasped and went limp. Seconds later, Slocum felt himself harden beyond the limits of endurance and spew forth his seed. He continued pumping until he felt himself turning limp within Laurel’s constricted channel. He sat back on his haunches and looked at her.