He laughed in spite of himself and said, “Hannah, honey, it ain’t like that for a man. He needs a little time to rest in between.”
She reached down and found his member. She said, “My goodness. What happened to this? It ain’t half the size it was.”
She really was an innocent. When she hadn’t bled he’d wondered if she really was a virgin, but girls who rode horses generally broke their maidenheads long before they were old enough to learn about sex. He said, “That’s what I’m talking about. A man has to rest. You wore it down to a nub. It’s got to grow back.”
“Is that right?” She sounded alarmed.
He laughed and sat up. He wanted a smoke and a drink of whiskey. Over her strong protests he tried to put on his socks so he could pull on his boots. She said, “Don’t get up yet, Marshal. Let’s do it again.”
He shook his head. “Hannah, honey, a man ain’t like that. It takes a while.”
“Well, when?”
He glanced at the window and saw twilight descending. He said, “You owe me supper. After I eat.”
“How come we can’t before then?”
He pulled on a boot. “Hannah, when a man drops his load it takes him a while to build it back up. It’s like the opposite of eating a big meal.
You ain’t hungry right away. It takes a little time.” He looked around at her, admiring the shape and symmetry of her body. “A woman is lucky that way. And you are luckier than most.”
“How am I luckier?”
He said, “You’ve got a big and a prominent clitoris. It’s easy for my big old dong to work back and forth on it. That’s what makes you climax.”
“What’s that?”
It made him smile because it had been so long since he had instructed a woman about her body. He reached in and felt around until he could touch the now-soft clitoris up at the top of her vagina. He said, “You know how you go up and up and up and then you kind of explode inside?”
She put her hand on his and moved her hips against his finger. “You mean when it feels good all over?”
“When you yell. When you scream.”
“Did I scream?”
“Several times. Well, that’s the climax. But you can do it more than one time. In fact, I think you did it about four times.”
“But how am I luckier?” She now had his hand gripped with both of hers. With an effort he pulled it back from between her legs. He said, “Because most women’s clitoris is kind of buried down deep and the man’s member doesn’t touch it. Sometimes it’s way up and out of position. Then those women, unless the man knows what to do with his tongue and his finger, don’t ever have a climax.”
“How come you know so much?”
He pulled up his jeans and then put on his boots. He stood up. “You better get up, girl, and see about fixing me some supper. I ain’t going to answer any more questions until I get fed.”
She made him a supper of steak and mashed potatoes and gravy with canned tomatoes. She didn’t eat, but sat across from him with her elbows propped on the table and her face in her hands, staring at him.
He had had a difficult time getting her to put on some clothes. She had set out to fix the supper in her bare skin, but he had explained that was too hard on him. He’d said, “Hannah, you go around like that, you are going to get me all heated up for no purpose. And then I’ll be like a piece of meat you keep heating and not eating and then warming up again. Pretty soon I’ll get so tough and tasteless you won’t want no part of me.” In the end she had consented to put on a thin, cotton wrapper that went around once and then tied with a sash. But the sash kept coming undone, and besides, the wrapper wasn’t up to the job it was intended for. Her breasts kept falling out, or the bottom part of the wrapper would open clear to her downy bush. It was, Longarm thought, about like trying to hide a horse under a handkerchief.
She watched him, never taking her eyes off his face. She said, “How come you know so much about, about …” She made a gesture toward the bed. “About all that stuff?”
He said, “Same way I know about horses and guns. I’ve had the use of them.”
“You mean you’ve done it a lot.”
He smiled. “Well, not as much as I’ve wanted to. But I reckon every man can say that.”
She made a pouty face. “I wish I was experienced like you.”
He put his fork down. “Oh, no, you don’t.” He glanced off into the distance, remembering. “I wish, just once, I could go back to when it was all brand-new.” He shook his head. “Enjoy this part, girl. It won’t ever be like this again.”
“You mean you get tired of it?”
“No, not if you’re normal. I guess maybe a woman might. But I ain’t ever going to get worn out with it.” He smiled. “Though I’d like to die trying. No, it’s just that the first few times are special. Kind of like opening up a present that’s all wrapped in bright paper and ribbon. You don’t want to rush it.”
When he was finished eating, he poured himself a glass of whiskey and lit a cigar. When he had gone out to get the bottle of whiskey, he had unsaddled and taken the bridle off his horse and turned him into the little catch pen behind Hannah’s cabin where he knew there was feed and water. He had no plans to spend the night, but he figured he might be quite late, and he had not wanted his horse to stand tied for several hours.
He looked at Hannah through the cloud of blue smoke, wondering just how much she knew. She did a good job of playing a simple half-woman, half-girl, but he wondered if it was all true. He knew that women married men back in the woods without ever really knowing the men, but it appeared that Dalton Diver had brought the practice to a fine art.
He said, “Hannah, when I rode up with Gus Home’s body, you never so much as turned a hair. He was your husband. Didn’t you feel anything?”
She gave a half shrug. “I never knowed the man. Never so much as touched him. Why should I feel sad ‘bout somebody I didn’t know? Hell, I never felt like he was my husband. I never even got the piece of paper that said so. Daddy’s got it, I reckon.”
“Well how did you meet this man, this Gus Home?”
She shrugged again. She said vaguely, “I don’t know. He just showed up out at Daddy’s place. There was still about five or six of us girls still living there, and he just kind of walked around and looked things over. Then he and Daddy went in his office and I guess they talked and whatnot. What are you askin’ me all these questions for?”
Longarm gave her a disarming smile. “Because I’m a federal marshal, honey, and they don’t pay me if I don’t ask questions.”
She reached across the table and slapped his hand. “Oh, you silly. Let’s not be talkin’ ‘bout these old things. Why don’t we get in bed. Startin’ to get all nippy in here.”
He laughed. “I reckon it could be summertime and you’d still say it was nippy. Listen now, you don’t want to rush a good thing. Let’s let the pot stew a little while. I kind of find it hard to believe that four of you married members of that gang.”
“Well, hell, like Daddy said, they was the only ones had the money, or the way to get it. Listen, you ought not to be talkin’ bad ‘bout that bunch. Daddy says the county is mighty grateful to them. They go outside and bring money back, money that is sore needed around here.
Nosir, I ain’t ashamed of marryin’ Gus Home. What I’m ashamed of was he left me a widder woman without no marriage-bed ceremonies. A girl ought not to have to go lookin’ on her own, especially when she’d done already got herself a husband.”
Longarm said patiently, “You told me once that Lester Gaskamp was supposed to be a Mason County boy. Did you know him before?”
“Before he married Rebeccah? Before he went to robbing and banditry?” She pulled a face. “Tell you the truth, Marshal, I never set eyes on the man. I’m just goin’ on what I was told. He might have been from the moon for all I know.”