Chapter 3

Peering down at his boot, Dapper George scuffed a toe in the dirt. “All right, so ... I’ll just go smooth it over with Tomo and Yuma, and then—”

She interrupted him hastily. “Mr. George, I’m sure you can grasp that I would not want Mr. Darnell, nor the driver Mr. McLean, to be privy to our arrangement.”

This made him scratch his chin. The gal did have something of a point. It was one thing to pillage her female treasures, but quite another to spread word of it around. The last thing he needed was Mr. Wilcox chasing him up and down the Rockies, aiming to hack off his balls. “Sure, that makes sense.”

They made a quick pantomime of searching the rest of the luggage, and then came out from behind the wagon. “Well boys, the lady ain’t got valuables worth spit, I’m afraid. But she is going to accompany us back to camp for a spell.”

His words were met by startled looks from everyone present, and Hetty rushed to fill the quizzical silence. “You see, Mr. George made mention of that compatriot of yours, the one who’s ailing. I suggested a feminine hand might avail to ease his suffering. It seems the charitable thing to do.”

Darnell and McLean grimaced to think of her wasting any compassion on this pack of human scum. But, knowing the congenital impracticality of women, they expected little else. Tomo and Yuma Brown, on the other hand, appeared more confused than ever. George gave them a wink. “Yeah you know, Old Gristle what got plugged in the lung. Mrs. Wilcox here agreed to minister to the poor bastard.” They answered with a shrug. They had no idea what the ringleader was on about, but at least the gal was easy on the eyes.

Guiding the coach off the track and into a concealed hollow, they gave the two captives a swig of water each, and then trussed and gagged them good. “You fellas sit tight and don’t be stupid. We’ll bring Mrs. Wilcox back in an hour or two, and you can all be on your way.” Then, stowing their ill-gotten gains in his saddlebags, George swung Hetty up in front of him, and they cantered off with the rest of the gang.

Once they were well out of earshot, he set in on some proper introductions. “Now you ought to know, ma’am, that my surname ain’t George. It’s Sirico. George Sirico, but people call me Dapper George. This here on my left is Joe ‘Yuma’ Brown, and to the right is Tomo.”

“Tomosevesehe” the native put in laconically.

George nodded. “Yeah, that. He’s Cheyenne. Lost kin at Sand Creek, I’m afraid, so he don’t harbor much affection for the white man. Though he’ll make exceptions on rare occasion. And boys, this here’s Mrs. Wilcox. That is to say, Mrs., um,...?” Realizing he didn’t know much more about her than her looks and her last name, he turned to her and raised an inquiring eyebrow.

She glanced around at the outlaws, offering each of them a grim, tight-lipped smile in turn. “Mrs. Hester Wilcox, wife of John Wilcox—lately of Cuyler, New York, now residing in Wyoming Territory. Charmed to make your acquaintance.”

By this point, Yuma’d had enough tomfoolery. He pulled his horse up short and got off, striking a stolid stance and puffing out his barrel chest. “George, I ain’t going a lick further till you drop the bullshit. ‘Old Gristle’ my ass! What kind of knot you got us barking at here?”

The others dismounted too—George helping Hetty to the ground, enjoying the feel of his hands on her waist. “I have no wish to deceive you, friends. Now that we left those other fellas behind, I can be square. The lady here is traveling up to meet her husband north of the Sweetwater, and that mush-head landed her with their entire grubstake. $400 in gold eagles. It’s in her trunk back there.”

Sensing there was a ‘but’ coming, Yuma’s face hardened, and his voice gritted through bared teeth. “Well ... how about we just go get that gold, and then the pretty Mrs. Wilcox can be on her way?”

“Let’s not be hasty,” George coaxed. “The gal has a proposition, and I pledged we’re interested. What you got to understand is that she’s in dire need of those funds. Without ‘em, she and her man are likely to starve. Won’t have enough even to get ‘em back to Noo-York. And sure, a man alone might survive out here by scrounging odd jobs. But what chance is there for her?”

“So?”

“So, in lieu of that gold, she’s offering us something else, something more valuable. To be exact, she’s offering us the chance to sample her feminine treasures. Sample ‘em right up to the hilt, if you catch my meaning. Willing like. And speaking purely for myself, I consider it to be a mighty fair offer.”

Yuma was bound to balk at first. “Jeezus H. Christ, George! I can buy a lay in town for five bucks. You’re cracked.”

George kept his voice level, reasonable. “Gentlemen, stop and think. This commodity here don’t bear any comparison to what you get in town. Consider how many johns those brothel mauks gratify every single night. Why, they’re tainted goods. Weak beer. Whereas this is the pristine top-shelf liquor, hundred-proof—untouched by any save her husband. And here’s the upshot. Money comes and money goes. We’ve all had a pocketful of change, and we’ve all pissed it away. But once you’ve laid claim to a thoroughbred like this, that sort of thing stays with you. Hell, it’ll put a swagger in your step until the day you die, just knowing you had her.”

That gave Yuma Joe things to ponder. He circled Hetty for a bit, looking her up and down, plainly savoring her fresh-faced comeliness and poise. Then he addressed her directly. “You are a looker, miss, I’ll grant you that. But is what he says true? You ain’t some low trug who’s been with dozens of guys?”

Hetty’s teeth were set, and she stared off at a spot on the horizon. How was this possible? How could it be that this gaggle of hyenas from the lowest dregs of society felt justified in questioning her respectability? And in such vulgar terms too!?

Yet, after a minute, she spat out the words they needed to hear, all the while avoiding Yuma’s heavy-lidded gaze. “It’s true. I’ve been with no man in my life except Mr. Wilcox. On our wedding night, and three ... four times besides.”

Yuma snorted. “Really? And how’d that go?”

“Mr. Wilcox saved himself for marriage, I believe. As did I. When it came time to consummate our union, he was ... ardent. The act was brief.”

This raised a lively hoot from all three of the scoundrels. After they’d quieted down, Yuma wiped his eyes. “Well, I can’t promise to be as economical with your time as Mr. Wilcox. Though perhaps you’ll pardon me for that in the end. But be straight with me now. A shy flower like you is really gonna open up her pussy to all three of us, free and eager? Reeks of snake oil, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Hetty’s already pink face shaded toward a humiliated plum, but she met the man’s eyes squarely at last. “Allow me to be frank, Mr. Brown. You are a wicked person. Having any dealings with you at all is far from my preference. But I’m sensible, and will do what I must to survive. In making this offer, I extend my trust that though you are thieves, you are also men who honor your word. And I assure you that I am a woman who honors mine. So yes, if you allow me to retain the money for our ranch, then I will give myself to you with as much liberality as I can muster.”

That was enough for Yuma, and he nodded agreeably. But Tomosevesehe was another matter. The Indian’s face was veiled, his body language closed. After a leaden pause, he spoke. “No, there is no wisdom in this. Foregoing such a sum for a fleeting moment of pleasure? I see only a fool’s indulgence.”