In the Hands of an Outlaw by Renee Laruse

Author:Renee Laruse [Laruse, Renee]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Romance, Multicultural, Westerns, United States, Western, Two Hours or More (65-100 Pages), African American, Multicultural & Interracial, Literature & Fiction
Amazon: B006TZFSM0
Publisher: ReneeRomance Books
Published: 2012-01-04T05:00:00+00:00

FOUR

“I’d like to send a beer to that tall gentleman with the disgusting mustache at the corner table.”

The brunette barmaid laughed. “Yes, sir.”

Dickson’s chewing tobacco-stained whiskers really were despicable. They reminded Leo of a soiled straw broom. The thought of Dickson touching Tilly made Leo so wrathful he nearly crushed the beer mug in his hand. He took a deep breath. He had to be patient. He watched the barmaid bring Dickson the drink and point Leo out to him. Leo put on a smile and raised his beer. Surprised, Dickson lifted his glass and smiled back. Dickson took a few gulps and then his curiosity brought him to Leo’s table, just as Leo had planned.

“Davis, what’s the occasion?” He adjusted his white cowboy hat and pulled up a chair.

“Well, Dickson, I was feeling remorseful for beating you and your buddies in that poker game a few days ago. Where are the others tonight?”

“Floyd, Kenneth and Cantor? Their foreman doesn’t end the work day until 10. Me, I’m my own boss. I make my own hours. I pan whenever the hell I want to. The income’s not dependable, but I live by my own rules.”

“I hear ya. Cheers to that.”

“Cheers.”

“You been down to the Bodie River lately?”

“No. You?”

Leo began waxing poetic about the beauty and bounty of the Bodie River. He made-up some fishing stories and exaggerated a few more. Soon the two men were reminiscing about being young’uns swimming and fishing in their hometowns, recalling big catches and skipping rocks. All the while, Leo was buying Dickson beers and eyeing the clock. He didn’t want Dickson’s accomplices to show up. He had Dickson right where he wanted him. Once Dickson was sufficiently mellow and nostalgic, Leo easily convinced him to take a walk down to the Bodie River.

They skipped rocks for a while across the dark water. Then they stood quiet, smoking cigarettes and watching the big river, a rush of water that stopped for no one.

“How do you like The Pay Trail whores?” Dickson said. “Had any of them yet?”

“Yeah,” Leo lied. “No complaints.”

“Which ones?”

“I don’t remember their names.” He stared at the blue-gray river rock in his hand. “Pussy’s all the same to me, anyway.” He tossed the rock into the river.

“Oh I reckon differently. For one, virgin pussy is a whole different thing than a whore’s.” He lowered his voice. “And a nigger bitch’s pussy runs hotter than a white woman’s, real hot, ‘cause they’re more akin to an animal. Still got that wild blood in ‘em.”

“And a woman that puts up a fight is more fun to take, ain’t it?”

“Yeah,” Dickson grinned. His beady eyes gleamed in the moonlight. “The wilder, the better.”

Leo sucked on the last of his cigarette, threw it down and ground it into the dirt with the pointed toe of his boots. His body was vibrating with rage. “Yeah, you yank her to the ground and pin her down while she’s squirming. Then you rip at her dress while you try to kiss her.

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