The Copper City - Chris Scott Wilson [14]
“Tastes as sweet as a honey pot,” Seth answered, a hand speculatively stroking the week-old stubble on his chin. “And I aim to have me a little taste of it.”
“Watch your mouth, Seth,” the second man said, sending a gob of spit in an arc over the boardwalk railing. “You got a dirty mind.”
Seth’s face contorted into a leer. “You bet, boy, you bet.” He pushed his tongue up against the back of his teeth and sucked loudly. Abruptly, he brought his weight off the wall. “And I ain’t waiting any longer. No sir.”
The short man laid a restraining hand on his arm. Seth shook it off angrily, a hard glitter in his eye. He flexed his fingers.
“I seen her every day, Billy, shakin’ her ass, and these hands of mine aim to feel it up a little.” He chuckled with anticipation, then his lips formed a hard thin line. “Don’t try to stop me, Billy boy. We’ve been riding together a long ways, I wouldn’t want to finish it here.”
Billy’s left eye blinked rapidly. Damn, he thought, let him have his fun. He looked away down the almost empty street to where the Mexican girl was steadily approaching. Damn if Seth wasn’t right. She sure was shaking her rump. Wouldn’t hurt her none to get branded by a couple of studs. Aw hell, why not?
“Down by the alley there,” Seth muttered, his eyes never leaving her for a moment. At the end of the boardwalk an alley ran between the two buildings. The tall grain store on the right cast a long shadow so that, ten or twelve feet back from the mouth, the alley was almost pitch black.
“You got it,” Billy murmured.
White-Wing passed them and they both fell into step behind her. If she heard the sound of their boots on the planking, she gave no sign. She walked no faster, no slower than she had been.
Seth whistled softly. “You see them peaches, Billy boy? Ooo-wee, am I gonna shake her tree.” Billy didn’t answer, his eyes riveted to the generous buttocks, outlined in detail as her full skirt momentarily tightened around her legs. His memory suddenly reckoned up all those womanless days on the trail. He was going to make up for them now. With interest.
As White-Wing reached the end of the boardwalk and stepped down on to the sun-baked mud of the street, the two men closed in. Seth swung to the outside. His hand clamped down on her forearm. Startled, she turned toward him, wide-eyed.
He grinned. “Mex, this is your lucky day.”
On her other side, Billy gripped her right arm. Her scared eyes flickered to him. “Two men in one day,” he said.
Seth’s free hand closed over her opening mouth. “Don’t tell everybody about it now. They’ll all want to stand in line for a turn.” He leered, his grizzled jaw only inches from her face. “And I aim to take a good long time with you myself.”
White-Wing was rigid with fear. Prevented from calling out, it seemed her body was paralyzed. Seth stepped around, pulling her into the alley. As they left the glare of the street he glanced back. Nobody seemed to have noticed.
The wall of darkness snapped the choking hand of fear that gripped her. Her heels dug in, seeking a foothold in order to make a stand. Seth grunted at her resistance, jerking her forward. Billy giggled, tugging at her other arm. She began to fight, snarling like a wildcat. She wrenched her head back, then snapped her teeth shut on Seth’s fingers. He howled.
“You dirty Mexican bitch!” He slapped her open-handed across the face. Billy moved behind her to grab both her arms. Her fingers, hooked into talons, flashed out. Fingernails raked his face. He jerked away, now avoiding her lashing feet. He fended off another strike from her hands, his arm outstretched blindly out in front of him. Unknowingly, his hand caught in the drawstring of her blouse. Fear of becoming entangled with this wildcat shrank his reach.
The neck of her dress tore away. Her breasts tumbled free. Seth grinned and moved closer, reaching to touch them. Spittle flecked his lips. Terrified, her foot lashed out. He yelled as pain exploded in his crotch. Doubled over, he held up a hand to cover his face from her flailing