Milly wasted no time talking, but quickly undressed and climbed into bed with Longarm. She slipped her hand down his flat belly and tickled his privates.
"Come on, Milly!" Longarm said with another yawn. "Don't distract me."
"I want to distract you," she said, rolling over to nibble on his earlobe.
"Business before pleasure. Who smokes the Royal Crown cigarettes?"
"Like most men," Milly said peevishly, "your mind is only on one thing. But in your case it's outlaws. Every other man I go to bed with is obsessed with my body."
"Milly," Longarm said, gently pushing her back. "You know how much I enjoy being with you. You're a beautiful and passionate woman."
"Don't stop. Tell me more."
"Dear goddess of love, I need to know about this Englishman who is throwing money around and smoking Royal Crown cigarettes. And I need to know right now because a lot of fine, innocent people were killed and injured on that train."
"All right," Milly said wearily. "I can feel this big scab on your skull and I suspect that you were one of the injured."
"I was," Longarm said, "and I'm lucky to be alive. Now tell me about the man who smokes Royal Crowns."
"I didn't sleep with him tonight. He wanted me to, but I decided to find you first. So you cost me money."
"I'll make it up somehow."
"You dam sure better," Milly said, kissing his cheek. "The man who smokes those tinny yellow cigarettes is an associate of the one that you saw me greet when I left your table this evening."
"An associate of that fat old man?"
"Yes. The old man was English and rich. He was also very randy for someone his age. When we were doing it, I thought he was going to burst a... well, never mind. Later, we went down for some drinks and I met the young one."
"The man who smokes Royal Crown cigarettes?"
"Yes. He is the old man's nephew and seems to do little more than buy and sell cattle and horses. He talked a lot about traveling on the railroad between Omaha and Sacramento doing business. I gather he also has a stable of thoroughbreds in Reno, Nevada."
"Interesting," Longarm said, "but I doubt that he's a part of that train-robbing gang."
"Why?"
"The man I seek is probably not wealthy. Perhaps comfortable and able to afford a few luxuries like premium cigarettes, but not wealthy."
"But you don't know that."
"That's true." Longarm pulled Milly close. "What is this man's name?"
"Blake Huntington." Milly giggled. "Isn't that a high-sounding hoot? The old rich man I entertained is named Clarence Huntington."
"And where is Blake staying?"
"About four doors down the hall in Room 207," Milly said.
"Are you going to meet him anyplace tomorrow?"
"He invited me to lunch at noon."
"I hope that you accepted."
"I did," Milly replied, starting to sound impatient. "And I can guess where you will be at that hour--turning his room upside down looking for clues."
"That's exactly right. But I won't leave anything that would give away the fact I made a thorough search. I'll be in and out in less than fifteen minutes."
Milly winked. "Don't spend a lot of time. From the way he was looking at me tonight, I expect that we will have a very quick meal and then he'll rush me upstairs in order to get much better acquainted."
"Describe the man."
"Blake is about six feet three, slender, darkly handsome, and he speaks with a slight British accent. He sounds very distinguished. He's well mannered and well dressed. He's a real gentleman, Longarm."
"I'm sure." Longarm curbed his annoyance. "If Blake is such a prize, why don't you try to snag him into marriage?"
"I might just do that except..." Milly's voice trailed off and she looked away.
"Except what?"
"I don't know. A professional lady develops a sixth sense about men. She can generally cut through the pretense and look into a man's heart to see if he is honest and kind or unkind."
"And this man is...?"
"Blake Huntington is very unkind," Milly said without hesitation. "There is something very hard and scary about him. And the more Blake tries to cover that something up, the stronger I sense him as being dangerous. That's why I thought you need to investigate this man, because something about him just does not ring true."
"then don't let him get you alone," Longarm warned.
"Oh, I don't actually think he'd be foolish enough to hurt me. I mean, he must know that it would discredit him with his rich old uncle. And I'll tell you something, Blake is after his uncle's money. He fawns all over that dottering old Englishman. It's really rather sickening."
"This whole thing does not make sense," Longarm said.
"What doesn't make sense?"
"That Blake Huntington could be a train robber. He sounds more like a fortune hunter to me."
Milly pushed herself up so that her exposed breasts were practically hanging in Longarm's face. "Let me tell you something else about Blake before we put each other into a state of bliss."
"I'm listening."
"Blake knows all about that train wreck."
"So?"
"So he was part of it!"
"Nonsense. Milly, he probably just read the papers. I saw the Cheyenne paper down in the lobby. It was all over the front page, and I'm sure that some of the local citizenry have been up there gawking at the wreckage."
"Oh, yeah? Well how many people knew that you were on that train with Eli Wheat?"
"It was no secret."
"And that Wheat escaped?"
"Still no secret."
"Well," Milly said, her lips starting to nibble at Longarm's earlobe again even as her fingers played with his big rod, "Blake Huntington was staying at this hotel during the train wreck. It would have been very easy for him to have joined the robbers and then derailed the train and returned that same evening."
"Yes, that would have been possible. How did you learn that Blake was staying here then?"
"Clarence told me that they had spent four days together out hunting elk in a tent camp just before arriving in Laramie late last week."
"And there can be no mistake about that?"
"No," Milly said, spreading her legs and climbing onto Longarm as she worked his swelling manhood into a stiff pole. "Old Clarence might be out of shape and a little piggish when it comes to satisfying women, but there is nothing wrong with his memory. The top end of that old Englishman is still in fine working order."
Longarm grinned as he felt Milly ease down on his swollen rod. He laced his hands behind his head and watched as she began to work over him in slow, tight circles. The way she moved caused her big breasts to swing enticingly, and when Longarm could stand it no longer he pulled them down to his mouth.
"Oh, yes," Milly said, "with you I can make it, Longarm. With the others, it's just pretending."
"No pretending now," he said, his own hips beginning to move in slick unison to her motion.
Milly was a well-lubricated lovemaking machine. All you had to do was fire her engine. After that, she was capable of running forever. Longarm concentrated on the ceiling, and forced his mind to detach from the building heat in his crotch. Milly liked it to go a long, long time. Maybe even, he thought, glancing out at the window and thinking he saw a hint of light, maybe even until dawn.
"Oh, baby," she purred, "you got what Mama needs!"
Longarm growled, and soon he and Milly were lost in a swirling cloud of passion.
Longarm slept until nine o'clock, then left Milly sleeping and went downstairs for breakfast feeling a little sore in the pants. Milly could do that to a man, and Longarm hoped that he wasn't walking bowlegged. He ate a big breakfast and bought a local newspaper. The Laramie Gazette wasn't much of a paper, but what news there was focused on the train wreck. Longarm read every column of print and there wasn't a thing about him and his escaped prisoner, Eli Wheat.
Longarm was on his second cup of coffee when Clarence Huntington, along with a younger man who fit the description of Blake Huntington, strolled into the dining hall and were ushered to a table. Unfortunately, Longarm was not near enough to overhear their conversation, but he could see that both men appeared listless and were probably suffering the aftereffects of a night of drinking and debauchery.