Message on the Wind (3 page)

“Antoine,” Clint said, “is he your . . .”

“Husband,” she said, before Clint could say, “Father.” “He's very good with horses.”

Clint thought Antoine had to be thirty years older than she was, but he had seen oddly coupled people before.

“Well, there's not much to do in this town,” he said. “I just thought I'd come and stay with this old boy for a while. Besides, all I've got to look forward to back at the saloon is more beans, and without bacon this time.”

“There is nowhere else to eat around here,” she agreed, “unless, of course, you happen to know somebody who can cook.”

“I'm afraid I don't know anyone,” he told her.

“Well,” she said, turning to face him, “you know me, and I can cook.”

“Antoine—”

“He wouldn't mind,” she said. “You're a customer, and a stranger. He won't mind that I've invited you for supper.”

“You have?”

“Yes, I have. Will you accept?”

“Well,” he said, “since you're taking such good care of Eclipse, how can I refuse?”

On the way to the house Jada asked, “What's your name, mister?”

“Clint,” he said, deliberately leaving his last name out of the conversation, for the moment.

“Well, Clint, I'm makin' fried chicken and some greens. Does that sound okay?”

“It sounds fine, but . . . where do you get it?”

“Ain't really chicken, it's these prairie chickens. I go out and catch them.”

“You hunt them?”

“Yeah, but not with a gun,” she said. “Ain't no fun digging lead out of a cooked chicken. Uh-uh, I catch ‘em and wring their necks. I'm fast.”

Clint believed that Jada was fast. She was whipcord thin, not very tall, with a slim waist and hard breasts, like ripe peaches. Her hair was short and black, and she apparently kept it clean. In fact, he could smell the soap she used when she washed.

The house wasn't very far from the livery. When they reached it, Clint saw that it was little more than a shack. Someone had done work on it, though, to make it sturdy. Probably Antoine.

As Jada opened the door to let them in, Antoine shouted, “Where you been, gal? I'm hungry.”

“We got company, Antoine,” she said.

“Company?” He had been facing the fireplace. Now he turned, and when he saw Clint he froze.

“This is the feller who owns that big black,” she said. “His name's Clint. I invited him to supper so he don't have ta eat Benny's beans.”

“I know who he is,” Antoine said. “I been takin' good care of your horse, Boss.”

“I know you have, Antoine,” Clint said. “If this is a problem, Antoine, I can leave—”

“Naw, ya ain't got ta leave, Boss,” Antoine said. “Da gal invited ya, ya gots to stay. You set, I'm gon' get some more wood for the fire, me.”

“I'll get supper goin',” Jada said.

They went to do their chores, leaving Clint standing in front of the fireplace alone. He didn't know what to do, but the thought of fried chicken kept him there.

Antoine returned with the wood, set it down by the fireplace, and added a few pieces to the fire.

“Set yerself down,” he said. “We gots two chairs.”

“But, Jada—”

“She don't need ta set,” Antoine said. “She's young. Besides, she gon' be cookin'.”

The chairs were wooden, made by hand, with cushions that also looked homemade. Chairs by Antoine, cushions by Jada, he was sure.

“You've made this place nice and sturdy, Antoine,” Clint said.

“I'm good wit' my hands, Boss,” Antoine said. “This ol' shack was fallin' down, but I fixed it up, me.”

Clint turned his head, looked at the table they were going to eat on.

“Made this chair and that table, too,” Antoine said. “I's good wit' wood, and wit' horses, me.”

“Well,” Clint said, “if you're as good with horses as you are around here, I can see I've got no reason to worry about Eclipse.”

“You wan' a drink, boss? I got some whiskey I picks up when I go to town.”

“Town?”

Antoine got up and reached into a wooden chest to pull out a bottle of whiskey. He looked very happy as he went to the kitchen to fetch a couple of mismatched glasses.

“You take it easy on that whiskey, Pops,” Jada scolded him.

“Dat's what we say when we goes to Yuma,” Antoine explained, as he poured whiskey into the two glasses and handed Clint one. “Town. Dat's where we pick up most of our supplies.”

“You and Jada?”

“All of us, Boss,” Antoine said. “All of us dat lives here in Miller's Crossing.”

“So . . . you all go?”

“No,” Antoine said, “A few of us goes there every month. We draw straws to see who goes, so the same people don't always do it. It's about a six-day ride, dere and back.”

“I love when it's our turn to go to Yuma,” Jada said, turning from the stove to face them. She had put on a small apron. “I get to dress up, and we eat in a restaurant, stay in a hotel.”

“Hush up, girl,” Antoine said. “You jes' keep cookin'.”

“Don't you worry, Pops,” she said, laughing. “Your supper's gonna be good. I caught three nice fat birds this morning and I'm gonna cook ‘em all.”

To Clint, that sounded just fine.

The fried prairie chicken was excellent, the best meal Clint had had in weeks. He and Antoine finished off the whiskey bottle during the meal, and only the fact that they had been eating while drinking kept them from being completely drunk.

Toward the end of the meal Antoine was drunk enough, though, to let Jada have a couple of nips from the bottle, as well. By the end of the meal they were all full and happy, laughing together until Clint asked a question he'd been saving.

“Since you travel fairly often,” Clint asked, “I figure one of you must know where this town called Organ Pipe is.”

Antoine and Jada stared at him, the laughter dying in Antoine's eyes. Jada wasn't sure what had just happened, but she knew her husband wasn't happy anymore.

“Why you keep on ast dat, Boss?” he asked Clint.

“Like I said, it's just a name I've heard,” Clint said. “I don't have anyplace in particular to go, so I thought I'd take a look. You have to admit, it's an unusual name for a town.”

“It is kinda unusual, yeah,” Antoine said.

“So?” Clint asked. “You know where it is then?”

“No,” Antoine said, “I ain't got no idea.” He stood up. “I got to go back to the stable and bed down the horses. You stay here, Boss. Jada give you some beau-coup coffee.”

“That sounds good to me, if Jada doesn't mind.”

“I don't mind,” she said. “I'll clear up and make it right away.”

“I be back later,” Antoine said.

“If I'm not here when you get back,” Clint said, “thank you for the meal.”

“You thank Jada,” Antoine said. “She da one dat cook you dat meal, Boss.”

Antoine left, and Clint remained seated while Jada cleaned up and made coffee.

“I didn't have time to make no pie,” she apologized.

“That's okay,” Clint said. “That was a great meal, and this is really good coffee.”

“I'm real glad you liked it all.”

She sat across from him, drinking her coffee while holding the cup in both hands. In watching her move around the kitchen, Clint had realized she was not as thin as he had first thought. She was wearing jeans and filled them out nicely, with a very solid butt to go with her hard breasts. She also had a pouty mouth that she seemed to constantly be wetting with her tongue. If it wasn't for the fact that she was married to Antoine, Clint would have been trying to have her as his dessert.

“What you lookin' at?” she asked him.

“Hmm? Oh, nothin'—”

“You was lookin' at me.”

“Well, you're very pretty, Jada.”

“You think so?”

“Come on,” he said, “you know so.”

“How would I know that?” she asked. “Ain't nobody in this town tells me that.”

“Well, you're married to Antoine,” Clint said.

“Oh, he don't never tell me.”

“Other men would probably tell you, but it looks to me like after Benny, it's Antoine who's the biggest man in town.”

“He big and strong, all right,” Jada said, “but he's no damn good when it comes to treatin' a woman right.”

“Then why did you marry him?” Clint asked.

She bit her lip, which somehow made his mouth water.

“If I tell you somethin', you promise not to tell anybody else?”

“Sure, Jada,” he said, “you can tell me anything.”

“We ain't really married.”

“What?”

“Antoine bought me from my daddy in New Orleans, and then brought me here to keep house for him and be his wife. Only we ain't never got married.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one thing there ain't no preacher here,” she explained.

“And what about when you go to Yuma?”

“Then we're too busy to do it,” she said.

“So you just won't ever do it?”

“I don't know,” she said with a shrug. “He don't seem to care, and I sure don't. In fact, I'd rather not be married to him.”

“Why not?”

“ 'Cause then I can leave anytime I want to,” she said. “Or do anythin' I want to.”

“Like what?”

“Like slippin' off your britches and sexin' you down,” she said.

He rocked back in his chair. He'd never quite heard it put like that before.

Jada got up and moved around to Clint's side of the table.

“You ain't got to worry about Antoine,” she told him. “He's gonna be at the stable for a while.”

“He doesn't have that many horses,” Clint warned.

“He's gonna make sure your horse is well taken care of, and then he's gonna put out a bottle of whiskey he don't know I know he hides there. He won't be back for hours.”

She got on her knees in front of Clint who, in spite of himself, had turned to face her. Her fingers plucked at his gun belt, and his pants belt, so she could open his pants and stick her hand inside.

“Oooh,” she said, as she closed her hand around his hardness.

“Jada—”

She squeezed him lovingly and then pulled his hard cock out into the light.

“I knew when I saw you, and you said you was the owner of that beautiful horse, I just knew . . .”

“Knew what?”

“That you would be a special man,” she said, “and you are.”

She opened those pouty lips and slid his penis into her mouth, began to suck him wetly, moaning all the while.

“Oh yes,” she said, letting his wet penis slide free. “Antoine hardly ever gets hard anymore. It's been a long time for me . . .”

She took him in her mouth again, at the same time yanking on his pants to get them down. He had to lift his butt off the chair so she could slide his trousers and underwear down to his ankles. His gun belt was on the floor next to him where he could reach it, but he was still worried that Antoine would come back while his pants were down around his ankles, putting him at a disadvantage.

But Jada didn't give him time to think about that. She quickly got to her feet and kicked off her boots, peeled off all her clothes until she was naked. Her skin was dark, but her nipples were darker still. The hair between her legs was as black as it could be.

She leaped into his lap, pressing her breasts against his face. He opened his mouth to take her nipples in and suck them. They were hard, and as big as juicy berries. She rubbed her wet pussy against his hard cock as she kissed him, driving her tongue into his mouth and groaning deep in her throat. Finally, she lifted her hips and came down on him, taking him into her wet, steamy depths.

Her breath caught in her throat and she made a sound that, at first, made him think she was choking. He soon found that she would make this sound periodically during their coupling. It was a high-pitched gasp, a sound she made in between words, as she talked while she was bouncing up and down on his rigid cock.

“Oooh, yeah,” she said, “God . . . damn . . . yeah . . . oooh . . . oh . . . oooh . . .”

“Oooh,” was a major part of her vocabulary during sex, apparently. She'd catch her breath, and then say “Oooh” several times in a row, then catch her breath again with that high-pitched noise, then breathe noisily between her teeth as she rode him.

Clint had her ass in his hands, feeling her wetness there, making her slick to hold. So he stood and deposited her on the table, grabbed her ankles and spread her so he could fuck her hard and fast. On some level he realized his back was now to the door and if Antoine came in he was vulnerable—but he soon forgot about that and would only kick himself about it later.

He was fascinated by Jada's face, which in the throes of passion became incredibly beautiful. Her lips seemed to swell and become even fuller, and when she bit them he almost expected them to yield juice, like ripe fruit. Her nostrils flared as she breathed raggedly. Her breasts were larger than he'd thought while she was dressed, her nipples swollen.

He held her by the hips and drove into her, testing the resolve of the table beneath her. It wiggled and leaped and moved across the floor as he fucked her.