Then, without using her hips or allowing him to move, she had worked him and worked him with just that muscle inside her until he had exploded so big and so hard he’d almost knocked her down. But she’d held him by his member with that muscle, still working him, still milking him, until he had collapsed and fallen to the barn floor.
But not only could Lily Gail never seem to get enough, she didn’t seem to figure you should either. More than once Longarm had looked into that pink mouth, either one, and worried about when he would get out because she could and would hold you until she was ready to let you go.
If he exploded in her vagina, she would just clamp that muscle a little tighter and keep going. If it was her mouth, she would somehow harden and tighten the rim of her lips and hold him and massage him back to life with her tongue and slowly bring him back up again. She had once made him ejaculate four times in the span of an hour, and would have gone for more if Longarm hadn’t pinned her down and lain on top of her until he could get the strength back to get out of bed and put his clothes on. It made sweat start on his forehead to even think about it.
He was lifting his sleeve to wipe his forehead when he heard, “Custis!
Custis! Longarm!”
He came back to himself to see Jack Shaw looking back at him and pointing. Shaw said, “Ain’t that a cabin off yonder?”
Looking where Shaw pointed, Longarm was able to see the top half of a windmill and some of what looked to be a small cabin. It was about a half a mile south and east of them. It seemed to be in a little depression in the prairie, low enough that they could have missed it if they had been much further north. Longarm, still trying to come back to himself, said, “I hope to hell they have kept that windmill in good repair. These horses may not need water right now, but they damn sure will tomorrow. Especially if we are going to make any distance.”
They rode slowly on toward the cabin. As they neared, Longarm felt pretty sure that it was not in use. There was no livestock in the small corral in the back, and no other sign of occupancy. The front door stood open, though the windows on both sides appeared to De boarded up against the blowing sand. This cabin, unlike the one they had used the day before, had a small roof that extended out from the front of the house, making a little porch even though the bottom was just dirt. Longarm could see an old, cane-bottomed straight-backed chair lying on its side. As they neared he could see that the blades of the windmill were turning slowly, though it was too far to tell if it was pumping water.
Shaw said, “Looks like we won’t have to turn nobody out.”
“Or pay rent.”
They rode past the house and circled around to the back of the pen.
The gate to the corral was closed. Longarm bade Shaw get down and open it while he waited. The outlaw dismounted with his hands manacled, walked over to the gate, slid a wooden bar back, and then pulled the gate outward. When it was open wide enough, the gate drooped in the sand and stuck. Shaw walked out, took his horse by the headband, and led him inside the corral, the three ponies on lead ropes following. Longarm waited until they were all inside, then rode over, took the gate in his left hand, and rode his horse into the corral, pulling the gate closed behind him. He dismounted, shoved the wooden bar home into its locked position, and turned around. Shaw was busy unbridling his horse and throwing the bridle over the fence.
Longarm was gratified to see that there was water. instead of a deep barrel, there was a long, wooden trough made out of planks. It was leaking and it was shallow, but there was water in it and all of the horses were crowding around, eager to drink. Longarm let Shaw get his saddle and saddle blanket off his horse and drape them over the fence before he said, “Jack, I reckon you better duck through the fence and walk on out there on the prairie about fifty or a hundred yards while I get the rest of these horses set up and make some kind of camp.”
Shaw pulled a frown. “Aw, hell, Longarm, why can’t I wait inside the cabin? It is hot as hell. I need to get in the shade. Hell, I’m about wore out. I ain’t had a hell of a lot more rest than you have. Let me go in the cabin.”
Longarm shook his head. “I don’t know what is in the cabin. And I wouldn’t be able to see you. You go on out yonder on the prairie and I’ll hurry as fast as I can. Won’t be long. Get you a fresh drink if you want to before you go. Or here … “—He turned around, dug in his saddlebag, and came out with half a quart of his Maryland whiskey. “You can bite off a chunk of this while you wait.” He pitched the bottle over. Shaw caught it and started through the fence.
Shaw said, “Well, hurry up. I’m starvin’. And hot. And about to go to prison. And ain’t had a woman in-“
“Shut up!” Longarm commanded. “Now, get on!”
He watched as Shaw walked south a distance. Finally the man stopped, turned around, and squatted down. Longarm could see him uncork the whiskey and tilt the bottle. It made Longarm’s mouth pucker a little. He’d be glad to get settled down and drink some whiskey in peace. The last week seemed to have been so rushed he hadn’t been able to do anything at rest or at his own pace. Shaw had called the pace. Up until now. Now Longarm would call it for a while.
He glanced toward the sun. It was hanging low in the sky, but it was still hot enough to keep the turkey buzzards circling so high that they were mere dots. He turned to his work of getting the horses tended to and making some kind of camp.
The inside of this cabin was much like the other. The only furniture was the chair lying under the porch roof. There was a door and a window in the back, and with the ones in the front they let in enough light that he could see the place. There was a fireplace, and he delighted to see a bundle of kindling and a few pieces of split cordwood. A fire would not only take some of the night’s chill off the cabin, but it also meant they could have coffee. Longarm hadn’t had any coffee since he’d left the train and headed into the mountains.
But tonight he was going to drink coffee, have some kind of hot meal, smoke a cigar and drink whiskey, and get in more than a fitful two or three hours’ sleep. He didn’t expect Shaw to be trouble, not this early. As they got nearer and nearer to the law in New Mexico and further away from the threat of the Arizona Rangers, then yes, he might go to cutting up. But Longarm didn’t figure Shaw had had much more rest and nourishment than he’ had had. Shaw might have gotten a little more whiskey drunk and a few more cigars smoked, but he had been moving just as fast to stay ahead as Longarm had trying to catch up. And Longarm hadn’t had to slow himself up by murdering six of his gang either.
He went out into the corral, noting that Shaw was still squatting on the prairie, and got Shaw’s bedroll and his saddlebags as well as his own. It made quite a little bundle. He also brought in his saddle blanket to use as a groundcloth. It was starting to turn into dusk. The twilight held for a long time on the high plains, but he figured he’d better get Shaw in before he got lost in the dark. He whistled and waved with his arm, signaling Shaw to come in. He watched while the outlaw stood up and came walking forward, his arms looking awkward not swinging by his side, being positioned by his hands being manacled a foot apart. The bottle of whiskey swung from one of his hands.
Longarm opened the gate for him so he wouldn’t have to climb through the fence. As he came into the corral Longarm said there was firewood and they could make coffee.