Flathead Fury by Jon Sharpe Read Free Book Online

He settled for opening a saddlebag and taking out a bundle wrapped in rabbit hide. Opening it, he handed a piece of pemmican to Birds Landing. “I have plenty so eat as much as you want.” He untied his bedroll, spread out his blankets with his saddle for a pillow, and sank down.
    â€œWe are safe here,” Birds Landing said.
    Fargo helped himself to pemmican. The ground buffalo meat had been mixed with fat and blackberries, and was downright delicious.
    Birds Landing accepted another piece and eased down next to him. “Did you make this yourself?”
    â€œI bought it from a Cheyenne woman at a trading post,” Fargo revealed. It was rare to find pemmican made with blackberries. Usually chokecherries or other berries were used.
    Birds Landing smacked her lips. “You did say I could have as much as I wanted.”
    â€œHere.” Fargo gave her a handful. As she took them, her fingers lightly brushed his palm in what might be construed as a caress. Again, Fargo wondered.
    Her expression, though, gave no hint of her intentions.
    Birds Landing chewed lustily. “For a white man you have been awful nice to me.”
    â€œWith the body you have, who wouldn’t be?” Fargo tested the waters.
    Birds Landing blinked, then laughed. “You do not—what is the white saying? Oh, yes. You do not beat around the bush.”
    â€œLife is too short for bush-beating,” Fargo said, and reaching behind her, pulled her face to his and kissed her full on the lips.
    â€œOh,” Birds Landing said.
    Fargo entwined his fingers in her hair and waited for her to make the next move.
    â€œA white woman would slap you now.”
    â€œSome would,” Fargo agreed. “Some are as miserly with their kisses as they are with their money. Some give their bodies as rewards when their men please them. Some won’t ever part their legs because they think it goes against Scripture.” Fargo paused. “Then there are those who like to lie with a man as much as they like breathing.”
    Birds Landing grinned. “That is the most you have said to me since we met. You must like it a lot.”
    â€œI am not skittish when it comes to the female body,” Fargo teased, and kissed her again, harder, and longer. When he drew back she had a dreamy look about her.
    â€œYou kiss as good as you ride.” Birds Landing put a hand on his chest and bent to lightly run her tongue along his neck. “And you taste as good as you kiss,” she said with a grin.
    â€œHow do you taste?” Fargo asked, and molded his mouth to her throat. He nibbled and licked a path to her ear. She squirmed, breathing heavier, and digging her nails into his forearm.
    They separated, and Birds Landing rimmed her mouth with the tip of her tongue. “It is not food I am hungry for now.”
    â€œI was hoping you would say that.” Fargo moved the bundle of pemmican out of their way and eased her down onto her side, facing him. As he reached for her, she clasped his hand.
    â€œI should stop you. Father DeSmet would say this is wrong.”
    â€œI won’t tell if you don’t,” Fargo said, hoping she was not about to change her mind.
    â€œHow do they do it?” Birds Landing asked.
    â€œDo what?”
    â€œThe priests and the nuns. How do they go their whole lives without? Are they not like the rest of us?”
    â€œYou’re asking the wrong person,” Fargo informed her. “I can’t go a week without getting the itch.”
    Birds Landing laughed merrily. “We are alike, you and I. But for the sake of the priests, while I was at the mission school I did not lift my dress for men, even those from my own tribe.”
    Fargo playfully hiked at the hem of her doeskin. “How about now? Any lifting allowed?”
    â€œWere it any other white man, I would make Father DeSmet proud and refuse,” Birds Landing said. “But I am no longer at the mission,