Setting the basin on the table, Stephanie bent at the waist so she could fuss with it for a few extra seconds. Under normal circumstances, Lester would think she was taking too much time. However, considering the disrepair of that table, he was amazed she got it to support the basin at all.
When she turned around to face him, Stephanie dried her hands on the sides of her skirt. After the first few rubs, it seemed more as if she was caressing her hips rather than simply getting rid of excess water.
“Would you like some coffee?” she asked.
Lester’s response was as quick as it was enthusiastic. “Yes. That would be perfect.”
Stephanie lowered her head a bit as she walked past him. Her hand eased out just enough to brush along his stomach as she went.
Although he enjoyed watching her leave, Lester was even gladder once she was gone. He had to keep reminding himself that Stephanie was Pat’s wife. No matter what she was doing to him or how much she seemed to enjoy doing it, Lester simply couldn’t allow himself to give in.
Lester shook his head and dipped his hands in the water. While splashing his face, he did his level best to force those thoughts from his mind. Before he’d even put a dent in them, his door swung open once more.
He felt a gentle touch upon his shoulder at the same time the smell of coffee reached his nose.
“I would have brought you a whole pot, but there’s nowhere to put it,” Stephanie whispered to him.
Lester turned around so quickly that he almost knocked the cup of hot coffee from her hands. Now that he was closer to her, Lester found her face to be even softer and kinder than before. Her eyes were as clear as the water in the basin and the warmth he felt inside of him had nothing to do with the steaming cup being offered to him.
“Thanks,” he said. “That looks real fine.”
“Why don’t you try some?”
Lester reached for the cup of coffee but bypassed it altogether so he could slip his hand along the side of her body. Stephanie responded by holding the cup away from them so she could press herself against him without fear of spilling the coffee onto the floor. Her lips pressed against his and opened almost immediately.
Although Lester had been the one to move first, he quickly felt as if he’d taken one step onto a downward slope and was quickly stumbling toward a hell of a fall. Stephanie’s leg slid up and down along his side.
“I need something, if it’s not too much trouble,” Lester squeaked.
“I need it too, Sugar.”
It took a hell of an effort to keep his mind on track, but Lester forced himself through it because he knew that effort wasn’t going to get any easier if he waited. “Could I get some paper…and…maybe a pencil? I need to write a letter.”
Stephanie let out a slow breath that heated up the side of Lester’s neck. “We’ll have plenty to write about real soon,” she promised.
Most of Lester’s brain was still trying to cut through the haze that was thickening in his skull. As much as he wanted to make certain she’d heard him the first time, he simply couldn’t get his tongue to go through the process of repeating itself. There were just too many things vying for his attention. Lester could feel the curves of Stephanie’s body rubbing against him and just as he was about to stumble further, she quickly pulled away.
Lester was left with an ache in his trousers and the cup of coffee in his hand. He felt as if he’d just been pulled out of a deep sleep when he heard his cousin’s voice thunder through the room.
“You comin’ or not?” Wesley barked.
Looking around, Lester found Stephanie closer to the basin than she was to him. She fidgeted with the crooked table while shooting a quick, knowing glance over her shoulder. “I’ll get you that paper and pencil,” she said calmly.
“I…uh…was just having some coffee,” Lester said, praying to the Lord above that Wesley bought it. “And I also wanted to write a letter to Uncle—”
“Just get your ass ready to go,” Wesley snapped. “I’m leaving in two minutes with or without you.”
Hackett hadn’t been much of a town since the nearby vein of gold had been picked clean. Lester could see remnants of the town’s former glory reflected in the dirty, broken signs that hung above most of the storefronts. Places like the Golden Saloon and Strike It Rich Gambling Hall lined the streets. Turning a corner allowed him to see mining supply stores and assayers’ offices that were now either empty or boarded up altogether.
Like most towns that were past their prime, however, the saloon trade was still booming. Wesley rode past a place called the Nugget and craned his neck to get a look through the front window.
“They put on a hell of a show in there,” Wesley said. “Watch the girls kick up their skirts and then watch them kick up their legs for ya in a back room. Hell of a place! Don’t look like there’s anyone on stage right now, though.”
“It’s not even noon,” Lester pointed out.
“It’s always a good time for that kind of show.”
Hearing that, Lester couldn’t help but think about Stephanie. As if to distract himself from those thoughts, he patted his shirt pocket to find the letter he’d hastily written before saddling up. “Is that the sheriff’s office?” he asked, nodding toward a small building with a shattered front window.
“Yeah,” Wesley replied with a snorting laugh. “He’s a marshal and he knows folks around here don’t like him much.”
“What about a post office?”
Wesley shifted in his saddle to show Lester an open-mouthed sneer. “You looking to settle here, or are you just flapping your lips some more?”
In response to that, Lester took the letter from his pocket and held it up.
It took Wesley a moment, but he finally nodded and turned back around. “Post office is that way,” he said, jabbing a stubby finger toward a row of broken storefronts that looked like gaps in a filthy mouth. “In the back of the dry goods store.”
“I’m going there to mail my letter.”
“What made you want to start writing letters?”
Lester shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “With all that’s happened, I haven’t been talking to the family very much. I don’t know when I’ll be able to write again.”
“You ask me, our family talks too much,” Wesley said. “All them rumors and stories going back and forth.”
Before he could catch himself, Lester spat out, “Like what happened to Matt?”
Wesley looked over at him with an expression that might have come from eating a piece of rotten meat. “Sure.”
Lester nodded and pointed his horse toward the dry goods store down the street. “Well, it’s only a letter. I’ll catch up with you.”
“I’ll be down on Second Street at Smith’s Firearms. Don’t take too long. I’ll be needing the rest of that money Pat gave to ya.”
Lester watched Wesley ride away, and kept watching until his cousin rounded the corner. When he rushed into the dry goods store, he was already out of breath. “This the post office?” he asked the old man behind the counter.
“Yep.”
“Where’s the sack for the mail to be sorted?”
“Just give her here,” the old-timer said as he stretched out a thin, liver-spotted arm. When he didn’t feel anything placed in his hand, the old man stared at Lester and asked, “Do you have something to mail or not?”
“I do, but…”
Staring at the envelope in Lester’s hand, the old man said, “There ain’t no address on that.”
Lester slapped the envelope onto the counter where the old man was sitting. Taking a pencil from his pocket, he quickly scribbled a word onto the envelope and then looked up. “What’s the marshal’s name?”