"Indians?"
"The Mescaleros travel through here a good bit," Logan said. "And the Lipans, there's still some of them that wander over from Mexico. You might run into a cavalry patrol along the way somewheres; that'd make it a lot easier for you. But then you might not."
"Suddenly your proposal sounds a lot better," she remarked with a wry grimace. "I don't suppose I could persuade you to take me close to the fort?"
"Ma'am, I'm just as close to that fort as I ever want to be,' Logan vowed. "They'll have patrols out looking for me and it's a risk I'm not gonna take. Tell you what -we can head down to the Rio Grande and ease along the south bank to Ojinaga. Maybe I could put you across the river there; Fort Leaton's only a couple miles upstream. That's about the best I can do for you."
"Well, it's certainly better than risking it on my own," she said. "All right, Mr. Logan, let's do it your way!"
They left the Indian where he had fallen, taking only the knife from his belt. Logan added the dead man's horse to the collection and drove them all before him. They went straight across the plain, travelling almost due south, and made an early camp on the side of a mountain.
"I figured I'd take the pack off that horse there and drive 'em all down to the sump off yonder," he said. "Might be that you'll be wanting some time to yourself or something."
Gloria was touched at his thoughtfulness but found that there was nothing to do. She stretched a blanket over a bush, making a hasty shelter from the sun, and sat down to ponder the fate which had brought her thus far. There could be no doubt that she was much better off with Logan than with the Indian. For one thing, Logan seemed to possess somewhat more of a cultivated air than most of the rough, brawling men she had seen on the frontier. And certainly he did not seem to expect to avail himself of her body, at least not openly.
"It's just as well he doesn't," she said to herself as she watched his herding the horses toward a small clump of greenery down on the valley floor. "The way he's built, he'd probably have a… a cock so big it would tear me in two! That Indian was bad enough, heavens knows!"
Even though she felt a definite sense of relief at knowing that she would not be raped again, she also became aware of a gnawing undercurrent of dissatisfaction. Was it possible, she wondered, that she had become accustomed to the rough, brutal treatment she had experienced at the Indian's hands.'' She grimaced expressively, remembering the way his prick had felt when he had thrust it into her mouth, the heady aroma and taste, and the savage thrill she had felt when he had begun to shoot his come deep into her throat. Gloria relived that moment but then, catching herself, upbraided herself for succumbing to lewd, lustful thoughts.
You've going to have to start acting like a widow, she sternly reminded herself. But oh! How are you going to do thatr' You didn't even have time to learn how to begin acting like a wife!
When Logan returned he hobbled the horses and turned them out to graze. He opened the pack the Indian had thrown together and began sorting out the various items.
"How about looking through this stuff''" he asked, giving her a tender smile. "We'll be down by Boquillas village tomorrow; probably we can trade off most of it for food and stuff. You ought to look through and keep whatever you want, or what belongs to you."
She came over to the pile and looked down at the collection.
"That nickel-plated pistol, that was my husband's," she said. "Maybe I ought to keep that."
He brought out the pistol and handed it to her, together with its belt and holster. Rummaging further, he found a.44 Henry repeater which he took up and set aside.
"Always wanted me one of these," he said. "My old Spencer, she'll reach out right smartly but she don't carry but one round. That little Henry there, you can load 'er up on Sunday and shoot all week!"
"This country where we're going, is it dangerous.''"
"Oh, it's about like anywhere else, I reckon: dangerous if you don't keep an eye peeled. There's some Indians and some bandidos, too, but generally you can ride around 'em if you know they're there. We won't have no trouble, I'm pretty sure of that."
"You sound as though you know what you're about."
"I've ridden over most of that country," Logan said. "One way or another, I've covered about all of it."
"What line of work are you in.' I mean, can a person be a scout all his life;*"
"Sure, except that scouts' lives generally ain't that long," he said with an easy chuckle. "I've done a turn or two at it but mostly I've been working with wagons and mules. Teamster, wagonboss, scouting, even done a little cowboying in my time. I've taken three wagon trains from El Paso to Chihuahua in my time."
He pulled out a foodsack from his saddlebag, apologizing for the lack of variety; his menu was the same as the Indian's-jerked meat and pinole. His foodsack was as greasy and filthy as the Indian's too, Gloria noticed, but her hunger was strong enough to overcome any repugnance.
"Once we get down to Boquillas village, I'll scout around and see if I can't find somebody to sell us a home cooked meal," he promised. "Be a nice change from this stuff."
"This is what the Indian had," she said through a mouthful of meat.
"Better get used to it," he advised. "Long as we're out of a town this is going to be it till we get to Tombstone. You won't starve but then again you likely won't put on much weight either!"
They curled up in their blankets as soon as the sun had set. Gloria found it only slightly difficult to get used to sleeping alone and was grateful that he had pitched his own bedroom a discreet distance from her own. He was already up and had his blankets rolled and cinched up when she awoke the next morning.
"I'll run the horses on down to the sump," he said. "I left the foodsack out there for you; you can eat and start getting ready."
They were on their way in less than an hour and spent all day riding over a level prairie. It was late afternoon when he pulled up beside her and indicated a line of mountains to the left and front of them.
"Sierra del Carmens," he said. "And right in the middle of them is the biggest canyon, almost, you ever saw. That's where the old Rio Grande cuts through. There on the other side, that's all Mexico. You just be sure and stick close to me now; we'll ride down to the river and cross. I know of a pretty little camp spot on the other side."
"We're not going to stay in… in that village you mentioned.''"
"Aw, it's just a few little adobes and huts," he said. "All of 'em so full of kids and goats and chickens you can't hardly get into 'em. We'd do better to keep to ourselves down the river a piece."
"Whatever you say," she agreed.
They came to the river, a broad but shallow stream, and crossed. Logan led the way up the bank on the south shore and came out into another grassy meadow.
"There's been many an Indian camped here," he told her. "Right nice spot. I'll gather in the stock and then I'm going in to the village. You'd better stay around here til! I see what's happening in there-might be some ban-didos about, though God only knows what they'd be doing around here!"
"Er, do you think you might ask around and see if there's any soap.''" Gloria asked. "I didn't have a chance to get any when… when we left the wagon train. Frankly, I'd love to have a bath in the river!"
"Sure, I expect I can rustle up a bar or two," he said. "And I'll see if I can't find some woman to cook us up a bait of something besides pinole and jerky!"
Gloria let herself down from her horse and unsaddled while he hobbled the animals. She spread her bedroll on a level spot and sat down to await his return. He did not take long and he had a broad grin on his face when he arrived.
"We must have been living right," he exclaimed. "A family up there's barbecuing a couple of goats. And here's you a bar of soap too."
He brought out a yellow slab of homemade laundry soap. Gloria inwardly winced at the thought of subjecting her skin to its harshness but laundry soap, she told herself, was far better than no soap. She accepted it and set off for the river, where she stripped and waded out into a kneedeep pool. She took her time and lathered herself thoroughly, even including her hair; when she emerged from the pool she felt immensely cleaner.
"I should have asked him if he couldn't find me a dress," she thought when she looked down at her skirt and blouse, now dusty and grimy from travel and hard usage. "Oh well, perhaps tomorrow."
"I'm going down and try some of that myself," he announced when she returned. "Ain't likely there'll be anybody to bother you so you can rest easy. I won't be gone too long."
Gloria lay back on her bedroll and tried to relax. She almost dropped off to sleep when a sound aroused her, bringing her quickly to her feet. Taking up the pistol she had put beside her bedroll, she looked about, but saw nothing. Far from being reassured, she became even more alarmed, and ran from the camp, heading toward the river. She made her way down the faint path she had earlier taken and approached the pool where she had bathed. Coming to a halt just before bursting out into the open, she peered through the willows.
Logan stood in the same pool, lathering himself briskly. His clothes lay in a pile near her. Startled to see him naked, she could not help taking in the beauty of his body. He was thickly muscled but the feature which most attracted her attention was the mammoth prick dangling from the base of his belly. It seemed that the tool stretched halfway to his knees, though she knew that this was absurd. Regardless, it was far and away the largest such instrument she had ever seen; it far surpassed Henry's cock, which had seemed enormous to her, and it also dwarfed the dead Indian's prick. As she watched, Logan took the prick in his hand and skinned it back, revealing the lavender-hued tip.
Gloria sucked in a quick breath of air; she could not help but remember doing the same thing to her late Henry and recalling the vast pleasure it had given them both. Logan lathered the prick thoroughly, rubbed the thick suds into the space behind the prick's head and worked more lather into the hair surrounding the huge tool. She saw that his balls were of a size to match the cock; she shuddered inwardly when she imagined the store of sperm they must contain.
"Oh, God, he's a stallion!" she murmured softly. "Mrnm, what a man!"
She dared not burst in upon his bath and, after pausing in place, decided that she could risk going back to the camp. The sight of Logan's cock had struck a deeply responsive chord in her own body, however, and she could feel her thighs rubbing against her sensitive pussy as she trudged up the path. Finally, when she could stand the pressure no longer, she stepped off the path and wandered into a small, open space.
"I can't be doing this!" she thought as her hands pressed in upon her pussy, rubbing the inflamed slit through the thick cloth. "Just seeing him, it's made me want it so badly! Oohh, that's good, so blessed good!"