Beyond Squaw Creek Read Online Free Page B

to toss a knife at his back. At the top of the stairs, he loosed a relieved breath and led Valeria along the dim hall, the girl starting at the thunder cracking outside and making dust sift from the rafters.
    All the doors bore wooden plaques into which the names of American cities had been burned, most misspelled. He stopped before the one labeled CHIKAGO , and threw it open.
    â€œHome sweet home,” Fargo said, turning away.
    She grabbed his arm. “You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?”
    Fargo dropped his eyes to her shirt. “You want me to stay and help you out of your wet duds?”
    â€œDon’t be ridiculous!” she snapped, balling the front of the dripping shirt in her fist, the shirt making a slight sucking sound as she pulled it away from her skin. She glanced down the dim hall, lightning flashing in the room’s single window, thunder shaking the floor and rattling a picture hanging on the wall near the door. “You saw the way those men were staring at me.”
    â€œCan’t say as I blame ’em.” The Trailsman peeled the girl’s hand off his arm and started down the hall. “I’ll be back as soon as I’ve tended my horse and grabbed a bottle.”
    â€œMr. Fargo?” she said, her voice trembling.
    With a sigh, he turned back to her once more.
    She moved toward him, placed her hands on his arms as she stared up with beseeching eyes, digging her fingers into his biceps. “I’m frightened. I know it’s not proper but…will you stay with me tonight? In…my room, I mean.”
    Fargo grinned down at her.
    She frowned indignantly, dropped her hands, and put a little steel into her quivering voice. “You can stop smiling. I am certainly not inviting you into my bed, sir!”
    Fargo wrapped his arms around her waist and drew him to her brusquely. She gasped as he lowered his head and closed his mouth over hers. At first, she was as stiff as a fence post in his arms, but in seconds she began to soften. He probed her upper lip with his tongue, slipped it inside her mouth. Immediately, as though catching herself, she gave an angry grunt, placed her hands against his chest, and pushed away from him.
    Her chest heaving, she scowled up at him, and slapped him hard across the face.
    He smiled, drew her to him once more. Again she gasped as he pressed his lips to hers. This time, she didn’t fight him.
    When he pulled away, she stared up at him, her eyes soft, lips parted, the clinging shirt outlining each full breast clearly as she threw her shoulders back, the beautiful orbs rising and falling like barrels on a storm-tossed sea.
    â€œWe’ll discuss the sleeping arrangements later,” Fargo said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll see to my horse.”
    As he stepped back away from her, she stumbled toward him, regained her balance, and stared up at him, wide green eyes like two glowing agates in the shadows. His pants feeling frustratingly tight, Fargo tipped his soggy hat to her, turned away, and tramped off down the hall. He could feel the girl’s eyes branding his back until he turned and descended the stairs, boots clomping on the scarred cottonwood planks, spurs chinging, the storm booming around him, rain pelting the roof.
    The room hushed as Fargo crossed the main hall toward the bar, heads turning to stare at him from the smoky shadows. The air was so thick with the smell of leather, cigarette and wood smoke, and the spicy aromas of the bear kidney stew that there seemed hardly any oxygen.
    Smiley stood at the bar, laying out a game of solitaire, a half-filled beer mug near his left arm. He looked up as the Trailsman approached.
    â€œI’m heating water for the girl’s bath. You look like you could use a drink.”
    â€œWhiskey,” Fargo said. “Give me the stuff without the snake venom.”
    â€œShit,” Smiley chuckled, reaching under the bar and setting a