suddenly looked at Debra. âMaâam.â
âSheriff.â
He turned and crossed the street with a quickening pace.
âThatâs the first time he ever looked at me like I was a person,â she said. âYou think that was because Iâm with you?â
âMaybe,â Clint said.
âWhatâs this about a murder?â
âWhy donât you come up to my room, and Iâll tell you all about it?â
âSure,â she said. âWhy not?â
SIXTEEN
Spud walked Henry Flood over to the livery, where he allowed his new boss to sit on a bale of hay while he saddled both horses, Floodâs and the one that used to belong to Jack Trevor.
âWere these Trevorâs?â he asked, showing Flood two saddlebags.
âYeah, I guess,â Flood said. âLetâs take âem back to the camp, and Iâll have a look tomorrow.â
âWhat about buryinâ him?â Trevor asked.
Flood wiped his face with both hands and, for a moment, Spud didnât think the man had heard him.
âIâll come back tomorrow morninâ and arrange it,â he said, wearily.
Trevor doubted that. Flood was drunk and exhausted. Spud just hoped this trail drive was going to get going on time.
Maybe, he thought, if he gave his boss a good breakfast it would improve his mood.
âOkay, Boss,â he said, grabbing Floodâs arm, âletâs get you in the saddle.â
Â
Debra Moore was something she had never been before, and never thought she would be, especially in a manâs room.
She was a nervous whore.
âHave a seat,â Clint said.
There were no chairs in the room so she sat at the foot of the bed. For the moment, Clint remained standing.
âI donât have anything to offer you,â he said, apologetically. âTo drink, I mean.â
âThatâs okay,â she said. âI was just going to have a bath and then go to bed.â
She blushed suddenly and thought, What the hell is wrong with me?
âDebra, do you want to talk?â
âNo.â
âWhat would you like to do?
âTruthfully?â she asked. âIâd just like to get our clothes off and have sex. Usually, I fuck for money. Itâs been a long time since I just had sex with a man.â
âWell,â he said, âI guess we could do that . . .â
âYou didnât seem so hesitant in the bath house.â
âIâm not hesitant,â Clint said. âI just donât want you to do anything youâre gonna regret tomorrow.â
âWhatâs it matter to you?â she asked. âYouâre going to be gone tomorrow.â
âGood point.â
She stood up. She was wearing a menâs shirt that was too large for her, a pair of trousers, and a pair of boots. When she walked the street she didnât like to show herself off. Men stared, and women glared, and she didnât need any of that. She got enough of it when she was at work.
She unbuttoned her shirt, peeled it off, and then sat down to remove her boots before sliding her trousers off. Clint did his best not to watch as he removed his own clothes. But he couldnât help catching a glimpse of her from time to time, and by the time he was naked, he was also fully erect. When she finished and looked at him her eyes locked on his hard cock.
âWow,â she said, âthereâs somethinâ I didnât get to see in the bath.â
âYou had a hold of it, though,â he said.
âYeah, but . . . look at it. Thatâs about the prettiest cock Iâve ever seen . . . and believe me, Iâve seen my share.â
SEVENTEEN
There was still some awkwardness between them, even while they were naked. But once Clint took Debra into his arms, and their hot bodies pressed together, all their reservations seemed to fade away.
She came alive against him, rubbing herself all over him, reaching for his cock,
Roger Stone, Robert Morrow