Dorothy Garlock (11 page)

Her sixteen-year-old brother, Kain, had detested him. He and Adam never got along and Kain left the ranch two years after they arrived. He kept in touch with his mother until she died. Since then, nothing had been heard from him.

Della knew she was beautiful. She gazed into the long mirror beside her dressing table and tucked a strand of her blond hair in place. She was of average height and very slim. Many men had enjoyed encircling her waist with their two hands. Her breasts were fully rounded, her nipples large. Her eyes dropped to them and she was pleased to see how they jutted against the thin, white muslin of her gown. She almost always wore white with a touch of pastel. Impulsively, she lifted the skirt of her dress and yanked off a petticoat. She ran her hands down over her belly and lower to see if her pubic hair was visible through the white gown. It was, but not nearly as much as she would have liked. At least there was nothing between
her
and the dress. She tucked a fresh sachet between her breasts and left the room.

Adam will still be angry, she thought as she went down the carpeted stairs. She had told him about the half-breed buying the range as soon as she had returned from town. He had exploded with a fury that she had seldom witnessed before. The foul language that spewed from his mouth was downright exciting. Just thinking about it and the way he had picked up a heavy goblet and flung it at the wall sent delicious quivers down her spine. He had walked the floor and cursed for an hour before going into his office. He had not come out for dinner and she had dined alone.

The house was quiet, she observed with a smile. The servants were keeping out of the master’s way. He had been known to knock one of them off their feet when he was in a terribly foul mood and they had not anticipated his wishes correctly. Della had no fear of him. Papa Adam had always been gentle as a lamb with her.

Adam had left the door to his office open, but the red velvet door draperies were pulled. In this way he could hear what was going on in the house and yet have his privacy. Della pulled aside the drapes and stood framed in the doorway. Adam sat at his desk, a sheaf of papers in his hand. Della watched him through lowered lids. His white hair was thick and sprang back from a broad forehead. She knew he was proud of his hair and proud of the white mustache he kept trimmed to perfection. He was a big man with wide shoulders and long arms. His waist had thickened over the years, but it was not unattractive. The buttons on his shirt were undone and a mat of reddish-brown hair sprinkled with gray was visible.

“Papa Adam . . .” Della made her voice velvety soft and looked at him with a quiet, childlike sweetness.

“Della, honey, come in. Did I scare you when I went on my rampage?” He rolled back his chair and stood up.

“Noooo . . .” Della moved across the floor swiftly like a child seeking comfort. Adam automatically opened his arms and she went into them. “Are you still angry?”

“You’re gawddamn right I am! I can’t wait to get my hands on that stupid fucker who sold my land! He knew I was going to buy it as soon as I sold the herd. He’ll wish, by Gawd, he’d had tin around his asshole when I get through with him. He won’t be able to shit for a month. The scrawny prick let the land go to a cunt-screwin’ half-breed!”

Della could feel him tremble with rage. She snuggled her face against him, opened her mouth and blew her warm breath on his chest. She loved it when he forgot himself and said the dirty words he used when he was talking to the men. She snuggled against him for a long moment and decided he was so worked up over the sale of the land that he didn’t even realize she was there. It irked her. She didn’t like being ignored. She raised her head and kissed him on the chin.

“Oh, now, it can’t be all that bad. Come and sit down and let’s talk about it.” She tugged on his hand, led him to the big leather arm chair and pushed him down into it. She sat down on his lap and put her arms around his neck. “This is the way I used to sit on your lap when I was a little girl,” she whispered. “Remember?”

“I sure do.” He chuckled. “You were as soft and cuddly as a snub-nosed puppy.”

“A puppy! Puppies are ugly.”

Adam laughed. “You? Ugly?” He laughed again. “Honey, you were the prettiest little thing I ever saw. You still are.”

“Do you think so, Adam?”

“I sure do. Don’t I spoil you rotten? Don’t you have everything you want?”

“Not everything.”

“Just name it, honey. I’ll get it if I can.”

She kissed his chin and wiggled her bottom firmly against the soft mound beneath it. “What are you going to do about that Indian? Where do you suppose he got the money?”

“Stole it. He’s probably got a price on his head down south and thought he’d come up here and buy some respectability.”

“He’s awfully good looking.” Della knew her words would rile him, and she wasn’t disappointed.

“What the gawddamned difference does that make? He’s a fuckin’ blanket ass! He’ll haul his ass off that land and out of the territory or I’ll nail his red pecker to a tree! I’ve used that range for twenty years. I’m not giving it up to anyone, especially not to a stinkin’, dog-eatin’ savage that don’t know his ass from a hole in the ground.”

In his agitation Adam’s hand had found the side of her rounded bottom and pressed it against his growing hardness. A pleasing, familiar feeling began to crowd the thoughts of the Indian from his mind. When she was a little girl he’d used her soft, little bottom to get himself aroused so he could make it with her cold, prim and proper mother. She didn’t have on as many clothes now as she did then. He looked down his long nose and into the neck of her dress. The soft mounds of her breast were pressed together and her nipples were hard little knots that his fingers itched to touch.

Adam knew Della was not the sweet, little innocent that she pretended, at times, to be. He had seen her flirt with the men, had seen her on occasion rub against them. It had amused him to see her get them steamed up and then walk away and leave them. She tilted her head and their eyes met. Slowly, the pink tip of her tongue came out and made a slow pass over her upper lip and then came to rest at the corner of her mouth. It stayed there while they looked deeply into each other’s eyes. What she was sitting on was rock hard now, and they both knew it.

“I’m your . . . papa,” he said hoarsely.

“No, you’re not. My papa died or my mother wouldn’t have married you.”

“You’ve been like my daughter.”

“This doesn’t feel like you’re holding your daughter?” Her fingers slid down between them and she moved her hip to make room for her hand to grip him.

“Good gawdamighty!” The breath exploded from his lungs.

“You’re awful big, Papa Adam,” she whispered, but continued to hold his eyes with hers. This was the most thrilling game she had ever played and she was determined to get the most out of it. His angry outbursts had set her blood dancing and created an ache between her legs. “I’ve always loved you.” Her words were uttered breathlessly, and his eyes moved to her lips that remained parted, showing a pink tongue moving back and forth over the edge of her small white teeth.

“You know what you’re doin’, don’t you? You’ve done it before.” A spurt of jealousy made him want to shake her.

She laughed softly. “You’re not the kind of man who wants a quivering virgin.”

“Don’t start something you’ll not finish, girl,” he said harshly.

“What would you do to me, Papa Adam, if I moved my hand and . . . got off your lap, and . . . went up to bed and locked my door?” She spoke slowly, her eyes sparkling and mischievous.

He looked at her for a long moment and suddenly realized that it was inevitable that this happen. It had been building for years. He had wanted her in this way since she was twelve, but the feeling hadn’t surfaced until now.

“I’d break your gawddamned neck!” he said viciously.

Peals of soft laughter came from Della’s lips. “I’d love it, Papa. Really I would.”

“Don’t call me that!” He put his mouth to hers, crushing her lips against his teeth, crushing her against him until the breath left her body.

Through the pounding of blood in his ears he heard the clang of the bell on the veranda. He lifted his head to listen as Samuel, the black servant, opened the door. There was a low murmur of voices and then muffled footsteps coming down the carpeted hallway.

“Mastah Clayhill, suh.” Samuel’s voice came through the heavy draperies that covered the door. “Mastah Malone is heah.”

“Gawddamn!” Adam whispered the curse under his breath, then called out, “Tell him to wait in the parlor.”

“Yas’suh.”

Della laughed softly after Samuel’s footsteps had receded down the hall. “I don’t think Case has been in the parlor before.”

Adam pulled her arms down from around his neck and with his hands beneath her knees moved her feet to the floor. “It’s important or Case wouldn’t come to the house.”

Della stood up and Adam got to his feet. Their eyes met, hers smiling, his smoldering. His nostrils were extended as he took air deep into his lungs. She stood close to him and ran her fingers lightly over the bulge in his pants.

“You’d better wait awhile before you call Case in. He might get the idea you’re smuggling . . . fence posts.”

A slow smile spread over Adam’s face. “You horny little slut! You’ve been this way all the time!”

“I love it when you talk like that!” she said and gripped him hard.

He removed her hand from him and stepped back. “Get out of here so I can get myself in shape to talk to Case.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help you get rid of
that
?” Her eyes flicked to his crotch and up again, laughing into his eyes.

“Later.”

“Whatever you say . . . Papa.”

“You . . . gawddamned little bitch!” He reached for her and she moved quickly to the door, laughing silently back at him.

Della slipped between the drapes and ran lightly up the stairs to her room. She closed the door and leaned against it. It had been so easy! Adam would be an exciting lover and she knew just how to stir him to anger. She’d have him eating out of her hand and she wouldn’t even have to marry him. This way she would be free to see who she pleased, and do as she pleased while she was in Denver. As Mrs. Adam Clayhill her activities would he carefully scrutinized, but this way . . .

Adam could scarcely believe what had happened. Della had always treated him affectionately, but he’d had no idea she was so attracted to him. He had watched her little bottom round out and her breasts grow. She was a stunningly beautiful woman. He had bought her pretty clothes, paid for her to attend a good school, and later furnished her a house in Denver. She had been away from the ranch much of the time during the last few years, and he had missed her. She’d started it, by God, he mused. Once he took her he’d sure as hell not share her with anyone else!

Adam rubbed his hands together and reached into his desk drawer for a cigar. Cecilia, the Mexican girl he had brought to the ranch on the pretext of helping in the kitchen, had furnished him with a variety of pleasures. She was a hot-blooded little bitch, but she was afraid of him. Violence and anger had always stirred him to passion. It was then that he wanted it most. It was the same with Della. She wanted him to curse at her, say filthy words. He chuckled as he thought of how her eyes had brightened when he called her a slut. She might even enjoy being knocked about a bit. He looked down at himself and laughed out loud. He’d have to get his mind off the thought of spanking her bare little butt if he was ever going to talk to Case.

He sat down, leaned back in the chair and blew smoke rings into the air. After awhile he rolled his chair up to the desk and bellowed for Samuel to tell Case to come in.

The minute Case Malone walked through the door Adam knew he was angry. Case had been recommended to him two years ago when his foreman of fifteen years was killed by the Cheyenne. He’d often wondered why Case had come to Colorado. He was a Texan and had been a Texas Ranger for several years. He was good with the men, good with the stock, but so straitlaced he was a pain in the ass at times.

“What’s happened, Case? I can tell you’ve got your back up about something.” He motioned to a chair, but Case stood in front of the desk with his hat in his hand.

“I wanna fire four of the men.”

“What for?”

“They stopped at Spurlock’s place on the way back from town. They got to foolin’ ’round ’n one of ’em grabbed Miss Spurlock. She screamed ’n her pa went at ’em with a sharp stick he’d been whittlin’ on. Durin’ the fracas he poked it in Shorty Bane’s horse ’n the animal kicked him to death.”

“Well, what the hell did he think he could do? He was blind as a bat,” Adam said irritably.

“He was
atryin’
to protect his daughter.”

“It’s too bad he got himself killed, but I don’t see it as any reason to fire four good men. We’re short-handed as it is.”

“I’ve told the men repeatedly to stay away from the small ranches ’n farms. They’d no business at the Spurlock’s place,” Case insisted.

“They didn’t hurt the woman, did they?”

“No, they didn’t hurt her, they only caused her pa to be killed.” Case didn’t even try to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “They disobeyed orders.”

“We’re going to need all our hands. Tell them I’m going to knock off half a month’s pay.”

“’N that’s all?”

“That’s all.” Case spun on his heel and started for the door. “Case, we’ve something else to discuss.”

Case turned slowly and looked at the big man puffing the cigar. “Yep,” he said slowly, “I think we do.”

“I suppose you’ve heard that a stinkin’ breed shoved enough gold in the hands of that spineless agent at the Land Office and paid for the south range.”

“I heard.”

“I’ve intended to buy that range for the last couple of years. My cash money has been tied up, but I’ll have enough in a month or two. We need that range. I want that redskin off that land. Understand? I’ve already sent word to the Land Office that the sale is not to be recorded. The Indian can pick up his money on his way out of the territory.”