The Bandit Princess Read online

  Sam had still been alive then, but after Pearl left—stealing away in the night—she had heard of Sam’s murder. And her mother’s disappearance. Where was she now, Pearl wondered, and who was she with? What man had she latched on to?

  And why didn’t her mother know that Belle Starr needed no man?

  Well, maybe Belle Starr didn’t know it, but Pearl Starr did.

  And Pearl didn’t need anyone.

  Not even her mother.

  Clint had found Pearl’s camp the next morning, realized he wasn’t far behind. He had then used Eclipse’s speed to close the distance between them.

  When he caught up to her, he decided to simply trail behind her and see if she was actually going where he thought she was. Maybe she’d been lying. Maybe she actually knew where her mother was.

  And what would he do if he caught up to both Belle and Pearl Starr? Well, as far as he knew, Belle Starr was not wanted at the moment. But would Belle allow him to take Pearl without a fight?

  That remained to be seen.

  At midday they came within sight of the house. He watched as Pearl reined her horse in, sat, and watched the house. Watched and watched. She sat there a long time. At length, a tendril of smoke began to come from the chimney. That meant someone was inside, but did it have to be Belle Starr? Not necessarily. Anyone could have come upon the empty house and taken up residence.

  Clint sat and watched . . .

  Pearl saw the smoke, knew it only meant that someone was inside.

  Her fervent hope was that her mother was there alone. Her fear was that Belle would be in the company of a man—another man not worthy of her.

  Her horse grew restless beneath her, but still she did not approach the house.

  Clint decided to move in. As he guided his horse in behind Pearl, she said, “I was wonderin’ when you’d come closer.”

  “How long have you known I was there?”

  “I knew when you caught up to me today.”

  “And you still led me here?”

  “Why not?”

  He rode up next to her.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I thought I wanted to see my mother again, but now I ain’t so sure.”

  “So go and knock on the door.”

  She shifted in her saddle.

  “If it ain’t her in there, I might be disappointed. Then again, if it is her, I might be just as disappointed.”

  Clint remained silent.

  “Clint, do you think every woman needs a man?”

  “Depends on what you mean by ‘needs,’ ” he said. “Needs a man for company? Maybe. Needs a man to make her a woman? To make her whole? Probably not.”

  “My mother . . .” she said, then trailed off.

  He waited.

  “My mother . . .” she tried again, but the words wouldn’t come.

  She looked at him.

  “Fort Smith?” she asked.

  “Yup.”

  “Think the judge will hang me?”

  “I don’t think so,” he said.

  “Well,” she said, “let’s go find out, why don’t we?”

  She turned her horse and started back the way she’d come. Clint threw a last look at the house, then turned Eclipse and followed.

  As the two riders disappeared over a rise, the front door of the house opened and a woman appeared. She stared out, frowning.

  From behind her a man said, “What is it?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I just thought I heard something.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She stared, a sad look on her face.

  “Come on, Belle,” the man said, appearing behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders, “come back inside.”

  She did, closing the door behind her.

  FORTY-SEVEN

  Clint sat in front of Judge Parker’s desk as the man lit a cigar. He took his time, making sure he had it going the way he wanted, then blew out the match.

  “So they’re all dead?” he asked.

  “All except the one Marshal Eads brought back.”

  “Yes,” Parker said, “she did bring one back on her own, didn’t she?”

  “She did,” Clint said, “and she saved my bacon.”

  “So she’s good?”

  “She’s very good, Judge,” Clint said.

  Parker shook his head.

  “Women marshals,” he said.

  “If you can find more women like this one,” Clint said, “I’d give them badges.”

  Parker rubbed his forehead, then puffed furiously on his cigar, enveloping his own head in a cloud of white smoke.

  “I’ll give it some thought,” he said.

  “You do that,” Clint said, standing up.

  “What about you?” Parker asked. “Give any thought to wearing a badge?”

  “No,” Clint said, “I haven’t. What are you going to do with Pearl?”

  “I don’t know,” Parker said. “I guess I’ll collect all the facts and then make a decision.”

  “You want some advice?”

  “No.”

  “Suit yourself,” Clint said, heading for the door.

  “You going to stay for the trial?”

  “No,” Clint said. “I’ll stay the night and be on my way.”

  “Well, I thank you for your assistance,” Judge Parker said.

  “Just do me a favor, Judge.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Hire yourself enough deputies and don’t call on me again.”

  “Won’t be a problem,” Parker said. “They are on the verge of significantly reducing my jurisdiction. I’m not happy with that, so I may be moving on myself.”

  “Well,” Clint said at the door, “good luck to you, sir.”

  “And to you, sir.”

  Clint had himself a bath, a good meal, a couple of cold beers, and then went to his room for some well-deserved rest. He might have decided to stay a few days in Fort Smith, but he didn’t trust Judge Parker to leave him alone all that time. He also wasn’t interested in the outcome of Pearl Starr’s trial. Whatever she got was her own fault.

  He was in his room reading late that night when there was a knock at his door. He answered it, gun in hand, and saw Alice Eads standing in the hall. Her hair was shiny and clean, and while she was still wearing a man’s shirt, trousers, and a gun belt, her clothes all looked fresh and new.

  “Hello,” he said.

  “Mind if I come in?” she asked. “I had the feeling you’ve been avoiding me all day.”

  “Not at all,” he said. “Come on in, Deputy.”

  She entered the room, and he closed the door. As she passed him, he smelled some kind of perfume.

  “Let me holster this,” he said, sticking the gun back in the holster that was hanging on the bedpost. When he turned, she was removing her own gun belt. She put it on a nearby chair.

  “What’s going on, Alice?”

  “I talked to the judge,” she replied. “He told me what you said, and he told me you were leaving tomorrow.”

  “That’s right.”

  “So I knew I had to swallow my fear and come up here.”

  “Fear? About what?”

  “Rejection,” she said. “I’ve never done this before, come to a man’s room to offer myself, but—”

  “Offer yourself?” he said. “Whoa, wait. You don’t have to do that. I don’t expect—”

  “Let me finish, please,” she said. “I’m not a girly girl, Clint, or maybe you think I am. What I mean is, I’m not comfortable with men. In fact, I haven’t been with a man in a long time, but . . . I want to be with you. Not because you owe me anything, or I owe you anything, but just because . . . I want to.”

  She looked so frightened it was painful, but he knew she was afraid he’d send her away.

  “If you don’t want me,” she said, “just say so and I’ll go.”

  “Alice . . .” he
said.

  He walked to her, took her by the shoulders, and pulled her to him. He kissed her, a gentle kiss at first, which he meant to break immediately, but instead it went on . . . and on . . . and on, and it deepened . . . and went on . . . until they were both breathless.

  “My God . . .” she said.

  “Yeah,” he said, and kissed her again.

  After that it was kind of a blur. He unbuttoned her shirt and peeled it off her, and then she did the same for him. Her skin was smooth and pale—much paler than her face and hands, which were brown from the sun. Her breasts were small, but they were hard, like peaches that had not ripened yet. He took them in his hands and kissed them, sucking the brown nipples until they were distended.

  Next he removed her boots, jeans, and underwear so that she was naked. She was tall and lean, built like a Thoroughbred. He gathered her warm body into his arms and kissed her again, felt her hard nipples against his chest, her hot loins against him.

  She undid his belt and pulled his pants and underwear down to his ankles. On her knees she held them so he could step out of them, and then she discarded them. Then she remained on her knees, kissed his stomach, ran her hands around to cup his buttocks.

  “Alice—”

  “I said I hadn’t been with a man in a long time, Clint,” she said, “but I didn’t say I was inexperienced.”

  She took his cock in her hands and stroked it until it was rock hard, then proceeded to rub it against her cheeks, her mouth. She stuck out her tongue to moisten it, lick it, while she held his erection in one hand and his testicles in the other. And then, finally, she opened her mouth and took him in, surprising and delighting him. She certainly was not inexperienced as she took the entire length of his shaft into her mouth. She began to suck him, wetting him thoroughly, slurping a bit as she slid him in and out of her mouth. He moved his hips in cadence with her until he was fucking her mouth that way. She made an “mmmm” sound, which he felt as a vibration and which also tipped him over the edge.

  He reached down to grab her beneath her arms and pulled her to her feet.

  “My turn, Deputy,” he said, turning and dumping her onto the bed on her back. She laughed as he spread her long legs and got into the bed between them, then she gasped as first his hand touched her, and then his mouth and tongue.

  “Oh my . . .” she said as he licked her avidly. He didn’t have to wet her, because she was already soaking.

  Just for a moment Clint wondered if this was the first time he’d ever been in bed with a deputy marshal—but then he went back to enjoying the experience.

  Watch for

  THE LAST TRAIL DRIVE

  342nd novel in the exciting GUNSMITH series from Jove

  Coming in June!