"I dunno."
"Sure it will be," she said with a toss of her hair. "Now please remove these handcuffs, because I sure can't bathe in my blouse."
Longarm could see no way out of doing what she suggested. He'd never escorted a male prisoner who'd been so insistent about having a bath. Normally, they just dunked their head in a horse trough or piled into a river and let their personal cleanliness go at that. But he could see that it was clearly going to be a different thing with Lucy Ortega.
"All right," he said, taking the key out of his pockets and then removing Lucy's handcuffs.
He was just about to warn her about not trying anything funny when there was a knock at the door and the call, "Bathwater!"
Not only did the bathwater come, but so did a big copper tub on wheels. All of this was delivered by three young leering men who could not keep their eyes off of Lucy.
"All right, all right!" Longarm snarled. "Just fill the damn tub and get out of here!"
"Have a good time," the last of the water bearers chortled on his way out.
Longarm slammed the door after them, and turned to see Lucy slipping out of her blouse. She wore a chemise, and before she could unfasten her skirt and remove it too, Longarm went over and stretched out on the bed. He removed his hat and placed it over his face.
"Lucy," he said after a few minutes, "I want you to have yourself a high old time. This might be the last private bath you'll enjoy for a good long while."
"Please don't say that, Longarm! I'm hoping that you will uncover my husband's real murderers when we get to Prescott and save me from ever having to enter that horrible territorial prison."
He lifted his hat and peeked over at her. The sight caused him to suck in his breath because Lucy had one leg in the steaming copper bathtub and one leg out. And what Longarm saw was damned near feminine perfection. It was enough to make him sigh wistfully.
"Is something wrong, Longarm?"
"There's a whole lot wrong," he said, dropping his hat back over his face and feeling his manhood stir.
"Well," she said in a throaty voice, "I'm sorry if the sight of my body offends you."
"The sight of your body, Mrs. Ortega, does a whole lot of things, but offending me isn't one of them, I can assure you."
Lucy giggled. "Men are so... so easily stimulated."
"You got that right."
"Just relax, Longarm. That's what I plan to do. I'm just going to lie here and soak for about an hour."
"I'm kind of hungry, and I wouldn't mind using a little of that bathwater too. Probably be cold by the time you soak, though."
"Oh, probably," she said without seeming to care.
Longarm closed his eyes and tried not to visualize the sight of Lucy Ortega's perfect white body poised over that shiny copper bathtub. It wasn't easy. He could hear the water splashing softly as she scrubbed the trail dust away and began to hum a song that he didn't recognize but liked.
"This is most pleasant, Longarm."
He yawned. "Glad you're happy."
"Oh, I am!"
"Good."
Longarm smiled. He wasn't going to let her get the best of him. Not hardly. He yawned even wider and felt the tension go out his body as he listened to her hum what he supposed might be an Irish lullaby.
Pretty song. Beautiful lady.
He wasn't sure how long he dozed, but it couldn't have been for more than a few minutes. All Longarm knew was that, when he woke up, Lucy was out of the bathtub and creeping across the floor, dripping water everywhere as she tiptoed forward intent on reaching his unattended six-gun.
When Lucy realized he was awake, she made a desperate grab for his Colt, but Longarm was able to clamp his hand over her hand and keep his gun in its holster.
"Oh, no, you don't!" he shouted, trying to sit up.
She was furious and on him like a wildcat, clawing at his face and trying to blind him so that she could either get away or get his gun. And when that failed Lucy made a dash for his Winchester.
It was all that Longarm could do to jump up from the bed and tackle her as she tried to lever a shell into the rifle. They crashed upon the hardwood floor, Lucy as wet and wild as an alligator but a lot angrier and slipperier.
Longarm yanked the gun out of her hands and pinned her to the floor. The next thing he knew, Lucy was pulling him close and kissing his face.
"Stop it," he said weakly. "You're my prisoner, for crying out loud!"
"Shut up," she said, pushing his face down to her breasts. "What do I have to do, tell you right out that I've desired you from the moment we met?"
"Don't say that," he told her even as his lips found her hard nipples and she arched her back, bare wet legs lifting to cradle him. "This isn't supposed to happen. I could lose my job for doing this."
"But I want you to keep doing it," she said, throwing her head back and raking her heels up and down on the hardwood floor. "And a whole lot more, my darling."
If Longarm had one major weakness, it was for the flesh of a beautiful, willing woman. Lucy fired his blood, and when she blew in his ear and then put her tongue in it, he completely lost control. One minute Lucy was the only one that was bare-assed, and the next minute they were both tearing his clothes off and he was mounting her.
"Oh, yes!" she cried, locking her legs around his waist as her body gave itself completely to his powerful thrusts. "Don't stop, Longarm. Take all of me!"
He did. He took Mrs. Lucy Ortega right there and then. She was so wet and excited and he was so energetic that they bumped and scooted most of the way across that wet, slick hardwood floor and they didn't stop until her head was up against the wall. By then, Lucy was squealing and bucking like a filly and Longarm was completely out of his mind. When he finally began to lose control, Lucy locked him into her body, and she almost fainted as her own haunches began to jerk convulsively.
"Holy hog fat," he panted when he finally caught his breath. "That was really something!"
"Yes, it was." Lucy stroked his back. "I hope I didn't rake you too badly. I just... well, Don Luis was never so strong and I completely lost touch with myself."
"Me too," he said, unknotting himself from her embrace and standing on shaky knees. "But I shouldn't have done that, Lucy."
"Nonsense," she said. "The amazing thing is that You resisted me for as long as you did."
"I suppose that's true," he said, feeling a little better. "You were sure tempting me, weren't you."
"All the time." Lucy stood up and her eyes went to the Winchester. "I promise that I didn't mean to shoot you. I wouldn't have done it."
He wanted to believe her. "Really?"
"Yes," she said, bouncing her head up and down and smiling at him sweetly. "All that I wanted to do was escape."
"And if you had, where would you have gone?"
"I don't know. I just... well, the thought of being locked up in the Yuma Territorial Prison completely unnerves me. All I want is to clear my name and try to start life over."
"If you clear your name, you'll probably inherit your husband's ranch."
"Probably, although his relatives are sure to contest."
"You were his wife. You'd have the best claim."
"I know," Lucy said, "but I don't think about that. Longarm, will you please help me?"
"I'll try," he said. "We'll stop in Prescott as I've been ordered, and I'll poke around and ask those witnesses some tough questions. Maybe I'll find a couple of inconsistencies in their stories. I don't know, but I'll try."
Lucy seemed to float across the room, and then she threw her arms around his neck, squeezed it tight, and said, "I am so lucky that you were the one chosen to escort me to Yuma. It could have been anyone."
"I guess," he said, feeling her hands slipping down his flanks to stroke his bare buttocks.
"Let's bathe together," she said, pulling away.
"You won't try to drown me, will you?" he teased.
"Of course not!"