Read Online Slocum #395 : Slocum and the Trail to Yellowstone (9781101553640) by Jake Logan - Free Book Online

catching up to do in bed.”
    He laughed and took her in his arms. “I think so too.”
    â€œClose the door,” she said and twisted away to go inside.
    He did and she began undressing. Waving him over, she quickly shed her clothes and then helped him with his. “I really liked last time, but it only made me want you more.”
    They played naked, him on top of her, and soon impatient with him, she inserted his half-full dick inside of her. She spread her legs wide, clutched him, and gasped at his entry. The sparks began to fly from them. The excitement consumed both of them as they raced into a pleasured high. Then he came and they fell into an abyss, lying side by side. So the day went by like a dancing dust devil going right, then left, until they dropped into slumber and woke before sundown.
    â€œWhew,” she said, getting dressed. “I thought sex was wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am. I’m still drunk.”
    He swept his hair back with his fingers, sitting on the bed’s edge. “A lot more than that.”
    â€œI’m learning. I’m learning.”
    â€œYou know I can’t stay here forever?”
    She stopped and looked serious at him. “Yes, I know, but the memories will sustain me.”
    â€œI hope so.”
    She made some oatmeal cookies, and they ate part of the batch after her venison supper. It was dark by then and they fell into bed and slept deeply.
    The next morning, he saddled their horses, and after breakfast they began their search of the nearby area for any sign of Jennifer’s killers. Several miles from her place on the western slope, he caught a hint of smoke.
    â€œFire around here somewhere,” he said, twisting in the saddle.
    She agreed, standing in the stirrups. “A campfire, huh? Where is it?”
    â€œSouth, I guess,” he said, indicating the country to their left.
    He soon spotted a sun-browned wall tent with some smoke swirling on the ground around a cooking fire. A short man with hair graying at the temples stood in the flap with a rifle in his hands. He wore a four-crown hat with a nearly flat brim and had the look of someone tough.
    â€œHold up. We ain’t looking for trouble,” Slocum said, riding in his direction. “I’m Slocum and this is Wilma.”
    He swept off his hat. “Carlton Houston, ma’am.”
    â€œWe’re looking for two grubby men who murdered a woman,” Slocum told him.
    â€œSeveral of them up here.”
    â€œDeushay and Roberson.”
    â€œThey’re camp robbers. They recently raided my things. I went after them and shot at them, but my horse hurt his leg in the chase and they got away down in the canyon.”
    â€œWhen was that?” Slocum asked, stepping off Red.
    â€œA day before that storm.” He set his rifle aside.
    â€œWhat did they steal?” Slocum looked around the sagebrush-clad mountaintop site.
    â€œOh, a good pair of field glasses. Some money I had in a trunk and probably some more of my personal things. Would you like some coffee?” he asked Wilma.
    â€œSure. How long have you been up here?” Dismounted, she looked around at his setup.
    â€œI came down from Montana about a month ago. Why?”
    â€œOh, I usually know most of the folks that populate these mountains.”
    â€œI haven’t met many people. Those two came around and I was suspicious, but I’ve been searching for a trophy mountain sheep. I was told there were several in the Bighorn Canyon.”
    â€œI’ve seen some around here,” she said and took a place on his log seat near the campfire.
    â€œI have sugar and cream.”
    She shook her head.
    â€œDo you know about hunting mountain sheep?” he asked Slocum.
    â€œI’ve shot some down in Sonora. They’re good eating.”
    â€œI imagine they’re tasty, but I’m looking for a trophy head to mount.”
    Slocum nodded and sipped on his coffee. He