"Yeah," Longarm said weakly as she led him away from the stagecoach office.
Twenty minutes later, Longarm was soaking in a bathtub devouring a couple of chicken wings and drumsticks while Betsy did the major damage on the three chickens that had been sent up to their room.
"Well, honey, you've gotten a little skinnier and I've gotten a little fatter since we last were together," Betsy said, wiping the grease from her lips with the back of her arm. "But I'll bet that we're still a pair of frisky lovers."
"Betsy, I told you that I was just wrung out. I doubt that I could be any fun at all tonight."
"Well, we'll just see about that!" she said, giggling.
Longarm finished his bath, and washed the chicken down with champagne that Betsy had ordered to mark this occasion.
"Here," she said, bringing him a towel when he was all done. "Just climb out of that tub and let Mama pat you dry."
"I can dry myself," he said, stifling a yawn.
"Of course you can! But you'll like it better when I do it for you."
Longarm stood up in the tub and let Betsy dry his hair and then work down across his chest. She was grinning and thoroughly enjoying herself, moving around him like she was polishing a bronze statue. He had to admit that, as she rubbed his body briskly with the towel, he did feel revived. In fact he revived too much, because Betsy howled and pointed at his thickening manhood.
"Would you look at that young man stand at attention and give Mama a salute!"
Longarm glanced down and saw that he was betrayed by an erection. "It's just that you've been rubbing it," he said lamely. "it doesn't mean anything."
"Of course it does!"
Betsy dropped down to her knees hard enough to cause the floor to shake and the surface of the water to ripple. She took the "young man" in her mouth and gripped Longarm's buttocks with her greasy fingers.
"Ummm-ummm!" she murmured. "You're my dessert, honey!"
Longarm just stood there up to his knees in warm bathwater, thinking he ought to protest but finding he hadn't the willpower. So he wiped his own greasy hands on his chest, patted Betsy's head, and closed his eyes with a sigh of contentment.
"Honey," she said ten minutes later, "your skinny little legs are startin' to bow like a pair of wishbones. Let's get you over to the bed and get down to business."
Longarm had decided that it was impossible to resist Betsy any longer, so he slopped out of the tub, padded wetly over to the bed, and collapsed. Betsy peeled off her clothes, and she was even bigger than Longarm had imagined. Three hundred pounds if she weighed an ounce. Longarm was wondering how he was going to handle this when she hopped onto him, causing the bed to groan and nearly buckle.
"Uggg!" Longarm grunted as her thick, powerful thighs clamped onto his waist and she slapped her immense bottom down hard on his stiff rod.
"Feels like old times, don't it!" she gushed. "Maybe you've shrunk a little, but not so's I can't enjoy you."
"I think," Longarm gasped, "you've just grown a little bigger."
That caused Betsy to howl with mirth. But soon she was squashing Longarm down into the mattress and grunting like a pen of pigs as she worked over him. To his surprise, Longarm found that he was still able to breathe and that Betsy, while she might have ballooned to gargantuan proportions, still knew how to drive a man to the heights of ecstasy.
"Oh, honey," she moaned, "we're gonna have a wonderful time! All night long!"
Longarm tried to suck in enough breath to mount a protest, but couldn't. With all his strength, he managed to roll Betsy over onto her back and she loved it.
"I never forgot you," Betsy said, her chins jiggling as he began to plunge in and out of her. "Never forgot how good you did it to me that night in Abilene."
"Was that where it was?"
"Oh, yes, honey! I was just seventeen and you were the first man who really taught me how good it could be."
"I'm glad," Longarm panted, "that I could do that for you, Betsy."
"Whooo-wee!" she squealed as her body exploded like an erupting volcano.
Longarm rode Betsy to the finish line, and then he rolled off and collapsed into a state of near-unconsciousness.
Longarm awakened to find her snoring but wearing a broad smile early the next morning. He couldn't exactly remember how many times Betsy had awakened him in the night to satisfy her great, hungry body, but it had to have been three or four times at least.
The amazing thing was that Longarm felt good. Kinda loose in the guts, but good. His hands were steady and his mind was clear, probably because she'd drunk almost all of the champagne. In a fit of guilt for leaving Betsy, Longarm left ten dollars on her bedside--enough, he hoped, to buy her that stagecoach ride to San Diego.
"Good-bye, Betsy," Longarm said as he stood by the door. "It was worth a memory."
As if she heard him, Betsy snorted, lips fluttering as she rolled over and crushed a pillow to her mammoth breasts.
CHAPTER 14
Longarm headed for the livery in order to reclaim his horse. The proprietor was mucking out stalls when Longarm appeared.
"Hello there!" Longarm called.
The liveryman turned and leaned on his pitchfork. "Well, I'll be damned! It's the marshal. Say, where are those two pretty women you had with you the last time through?"
"They're in Yuma."
"Hell of a place to leave 'em."
"I guess," Longarm said. "I'm here to claim my horse."
"He's waitin' along with the other two horses. You owe me a little board bill, though."
"I figured I did," Longarm said, digging into his pants for some cash. When they settled up, Longarm dusted off his saddle and led his gelding out of its stall. "He looks a whole lot more rested."
"He is," the man said. "You gonna come back and get the other horses?"
"I expect I will in a day or two," Longarm said, thinking that it would take that long to arrest Hal Brodie and bring him back down from Prescott.
"What then?"
"I'm not altogether sure," Longarm said, not wishing to discuss his plans with anyone.
"You gonna bring them pretty women back?"
"Maybe."
"I hope you do," the liveryman said with a lascivious grin. "I told everyone about you and them all sleepin' together in my stall. I bet you had a real high old time with them pretty fillies."
Longarm's voice turned rough. "You talk too damn much, know that?"
The liveryman's eyes widened and he tried to bluster. "Well, I didn't know what you was doin' was a secret!"
Longarm saddled his gelding and tied his bedroll down tight behind the cantle. Without a word, he mounted his horse and rode out of Wickenburg. It was midday and the next forty miles were all uphill to Prescott.
He arrived back at Prescott around midnight and found a corral for his horse at the livery, then went to a cheap hotel and fell asleep the minute his head hit the mattress.
Early the next morning Longarm made it a point to avoid being seen by Marshal Haggerty. All he wanted to do was to ride out to the Brodie Ranch, arrest Hal for murder, and get them both back down to Wickenburg. At that point, they could board the stagecoach that would carry them safely to Yuma. After that, he could think about returning to Colorado, which to Longarm's way of thinking couldn't possibly happen fast enough.
Half starved, Longarm found a little cafe that served a mighty fine breakfast of biscuits and gravy, eggs, a tough but sizable steak, and all the coffee your gut could stand for only six bits. Longarm hadn't realized how famished he'd been, and Betsy had been right, he was a little hollow in the gut and starved-looking.
"Aren't you that Marshal Long?" a cute little waitress asked with a smile that warmed him as much as the coffee.
"I am," Longarm said, "but I'd just as soon not spread the news."
"Oh," she said, leaning forward to straighten the tablecloth and show him some cleavage. "Well, I can understand that a big man like you probably has a few enemies along with admirers. And you may count me among the latter. I saw what you did to Marshal Haggerty."