HAVE SENT A YOUNG MARSHAL NAMED ROSS HENDERSON TO SANTA ROSA STOP HIS JOB IS TO INVESTIGATE WANTED POSTERS BEING PUT OUT ON MY HEAD STOP REWARD OFFERED STOP VERY CONFUSING STOP HENDERSON VERY INEXPERIENCED DEPUTY MARSHAL STOP WOULD GREATLY APPRECIATE YOU GOING TO SANTA ROSA AND KEEPING AN EYE ON HIM STOP WOULD APPRECIATE YOU GATHERING ALL INFORMATION YOU CAN ABOUT REWARD PLACED ON ME STOP APPRECIATE YOU LETTING ME KNOW IMMEDIATELY WHEN YOU RECEIVE THIS WIRE STOP WILL WAIT TO HEAR FROM YOU STOP
He signed it, and then turned it in to the telegrapher and charged it to the United States Government. After that, Longarm walked thoughtfully back to his boardinghouse, not quite certain if things were going the way they should be. Now that he was rested, he was sorry and anxious about not going to Santa Rosa himself. But he felt sure that if the telegram reached Lee Gray, his friend would take matters in hand and not only protect young Henderson, but gather enough information that would tell Longarm how best to act.
He spent that afternoon in one of his favorite saloons playing small-stakes poker, having a few drinks, and talking with men who were as friendly as anyone was to a U.S. deputy marshal. When you put on the badge, you did more than take on a duty; you also cut yourself off from the normal day-to-day business of living. People looked at you differently and they treated you differently and they were always slightly uncertain about what they did and said around you. But he had known before he’d become a marshal that it was a price he was willing to pay. No one had ever come right out and asked him why he had chosen to become a marshal. If they had, he wouldn’t have been able to answer them. If he had asked himself the same question, he wouldn’t have had a ready answer. It had nothing to do with wearing a badge or carrying a gun or the authority of his office. It had far more to do with the ability to set matters straight, to make things right. He would never admit it, but Longarm was a man who believed in the fairness and justice of life and every man’s right to that fairness and justice. He didn’t know where that feeling came from, and he didn’t have to know. All he knew was that he was happy being a marshal. The pay was lousy, the hours were horrible, and the work was dangerous. Other than that, it was as easy as sliding down a greased board.
He was back at his boardinghouse a little before seven, and was gratified to see a telegram waiting for him on the hall table. He ripped it open eagerly. It was from Lee Gray.
It said:
RECEIVED YOUR WIRE STOP AM STARTING FOR SANTA ROSA IN THE MORNING STOP WILL WIRE YOU WHAT I FIND OUT STOP HAVE SEEN POSTERS OF YOU STOP FIRST TIME I EVER KNEW ANYBODY WANTED YOU STOP THE PICTURE DON’T DO YOU JUSTICE STOP
Longarm went to his room feeling somewhat easier. He hadn’t known if Lee Gray had been in town and reachable by telegram or not. Now, at least he knew that some help for young Henderson was on the way. All Longarm could do now was wait. He went on into his room, took off his shirt and boots, and lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He had a very difficult decision to make.
His landlady’s daughter, a young lady of some twenty one or twenty two years of age and of considerable beauty, had been giving him every indication that she would like to spend some time in his room, and not making up the bed or dusting. Her name was Lucy. He had done nothing to either encourage her or discourage her, but he had an idea that this very night could well be the night she’d like to spend some time with him. He knew that her mother, his landlady, was going to be out late on her charitable duties of visiting the sick and taking parcels of food around to those who weren’t able to help themselves. He figured Miss Lucy would be ready to join him as soon as her mother left the house, which she normally did at about eight o’clock. He could then slip down, he figured. That would give them two or three hours to have a good time.
Of course, there was Pauline, but he didn’t believe he could take another night of her—not so soon, anyway. But then there was also a very lucious thirty-year-old widow named Gloria who worked at the bank. He had sampled her wares several times before. That afternoon, he had stopped in at the bank and briefly asked her if she would be home during the evening. She’d offered to fix him dinner, but he had known he would be playing poker and he didn’t want to eat until late, so he’d asked her if he could just simply drop by. She had fluttered her eyes and said, “Oh, my. Yes.”
So, that was his dilemma. Should it be Lucy or should it be Gloria? He had a feeling that he would be better off with an experienced hand like Gloria rather than a young woman like Lucy, who he guessed was fairly inexperienced. He liked them with a few miles under the saddle. You didn’t have to spend so much time guiding and directing them. They knew what to do. They knew how to hit a lope or a gallop without hitting the spurs. They knew which trail to take if there came a fork in the road. They knew the country.
He was sitting on the side of the bed in just his pants with a glass of whiskey in his hand when there suddenly came a light tap at his door. He said, “Come in.”
All of a sudden, the door flew open and then was closed just as quickly. It was Lucy Bodenheimer, his landlady’s daughter. She leaned back against the door, her breasts heaving, her voice high and excited. She said, “Oh, Marshal Long, you don’t know how long I’ve dreamed of this. I am absolutely hypnotized by your eyes. I seen you watching me when I serve you at the dinner table. You can’t know what this means to me.”
Longarm just sat there stunned, his mouth half open.
She said, “I knew this moment would come. I knew it was destiny.” She rapidly unbuttoned the buttons of her blouse, and before he could even speak, she had stripped it off and thrown it to the floor. Next came the buttons of her skirt, and it too fell to the floor.
Longarm said, “Lucy, now wait just a-“
But before he could finish, she had taken the long chemise she was wearing and pulled it over her head.
In a breathless, excited voice she said, “Oh, my gosh, I can’t stand it anymore.” She suddenly rushed toward the bed and flung herself headlong down its length. Longarm barely had time to stand up to avoid her.
He said, “Lucy, what in hell are you doing?”
She had turned on her back and lay there, her legs spread wide, her eyes staring at the ceiling. She said, “Take me. Take me. Take me now, Marshal. Please.”
Longarm did not relish the thought of being caught with Mrs. Bodenheimer’s daughter, but yet here was this vuluptuous, luscious-looking young woman, lying naked in his bed, with him just wearing a pair of Levi’s that were rapidly getting too small to hold him. In one swift motion, he kicked them off and crawled up on the bed. He hovered over her on his hands and knees. She had her eyes shut tight.
He said, “Lucy, are you sure you know what you are doing?”
She said, “Oh, please hurry. I can’t wait.”
He lowered himself down to her and guided his penis into her young vagina. She was dry and she was tight, and for a second he had fears that she might be a virgin. But then he thought to himself that everyone was a virgin at one time or another and he had already come this far.
To his surprise, as soon as he penetrated her half an inch, her vagina came alive and moist and welcoming. As he thrust into her, her legs came up around and clutched him and pulled him into her. Her arms drew his head down to her, and she began to lavish kisses all over his face. She had wonderfully shaped large breasts and the kind of fine-boned smallish figure that Longarm liked so well.
It was over all too soon. She brought him quickly to a high state of excitement, and she did not react to any of his attempts to slow her down. Before he knew it, he had fallen off the mountain and had exploded into her. The instant it happened, she grew still and quiet. She had been making little moaning, keening sounds, but now she grew silent. He thought it was from disappointment. He had only given her a three-or-four-minute ride, but he’d never really had a chance for more.