"Ignoring you would be a ch.o.r.e, considering."

"Good. Let's kiss and make up, then, shall we?"

Without waiting for an answer, Dances-Humming was all over him, bare bottom in his lap as she rubbed everything else against him while planting a wet, openmouthed kiss full on his lips. She had his back to the wall now and was fumbling at his b.u.t.tons, complaining with her mouth on his, "You white men wear so many clothes! Don't they get in the way at times like these?"

"They sure as h.e.l.l do!" Longarm said, pushing her clear enough to start undressing himself, as he added, "Snuff that candle. You ain't got curtains on the windows!"

She laughed and leaped from the bunk, a tawny vision of desire as she bent to put the light out. By the time she crawled up on the bunk beside him, Longarm had gotten rid of most of his duds. The first thing he'd removed was his gunbelt, and he'd shoved it between the bunk and the wall, the grips of the.44 handy.

She wrestled playfully with him as he finished undressing and they were both laughing when, at last, their nude bodies melted together.

Dances-Humming was hotter than a two-dollar pistol and moved it like a saloon door on payday, but there was something wrong. Longarm had been with enough women to know when they were taking pleasure as well as giving it. The little squaw made love like a professional, and since that way's calculated to pleasure a man, Longarm enjoyed it.

After a time, as they rested with him still inside her, he ran his hand down between their moist warm torsos to tickle her wetness. She stopped him, asking, "What is the matter, didn't you enjoy it?"

"You know I did, honey. I'm trying to make you come."

"Why? This person didn't ask it."

"Well, h.e.l.l, it's common courtesy! Don't you want to come, honey?"

"I already did, before. You can just do as you wish. This person does not mind. She is tired."

Longarm frowned, wondering why she was lying. She'd acted like she was going crazy, a minute ago, but he'd been with too many others to be fooled. She, while she wasn't getting paid like a wh.o.r.e, was doing it like a wh.o.r.e. He'd wondered where she'd gotten that new blanket.

He said, "Well, if you're tired, you're tired. I'll just be on my way, soon as I can find where I threw my boots."

She stiffened and said, "You can't leave now! It's too early!"

"Maybe nine o'clock, maybe ten. I thank you for the hospitality, but I can see I ain't wanted."

"Don't go! I'll let you play with me! I'll do anything, anything you want!"

"Uh-uh. Your Indian powwow stuff is slipping, too. I'd better get it on down the road, honey."

He swung his bare legs over the edge and sat up, bending over to reach for his socks. Dances-Humming reached for the holstered.44 against the wall, drew it, and placed the muzzle against the back of Longarm's head as she pulled the trigger.

The gun clicked twice before he'd reached around and taken it from her, saying, "First thing they ever told me was not to leave a loaded gun where a wh.o.r.e could get at it, Dances-Humming. I took the liberty of unloading it before leaving it there to bait you."

She tried to back away as far as possible, but she only got as far as the corner. She sat there, knees drawn up, and trembling as she gasped, "I don't want to die!"

"Well, not many folks do. Did the man who put you up to this say how you were to get away with killing me, or are you just dumb?"

"I didn't think! I had to-I have to keep you here, no matter what!"

"well, blowing my brains out my nose was a p.i.s.s-poor idea, honey. You weren't gonna sing that same old song about the wicked white man trying to rape an Indian lady defending her honor, were you?"

"I don't know! There wasn't time to think!"

"You'd better learn to think, girl! If I'd been as dumb as you, we'd both be in a pickle. I'd be dead and you'd be explaining things to Hungry Calf and the other chiefs. I'll allow an Indian Agent will believe most anything, but you'd last less than five minutes when the elders got to asking what happened."

She buried her face in her hands and began to bawl like a baby. Longarm reached out and put an arm around her, soothing, "Oh, hush, no harm's been done."

"Are you going to tell on me?"

"Don't reckon I need to, now. You do see how another wicked white man led you astray, don't you? I swear, Dances-Humming, you do get led astray more'n any Ho gal I've met. You sure you didn't have an Apache grandmother? No, that don't figure. Apache blood would have left you smarter. You see, honey, if folks can't be smart, they have to be good. Dumb and wicked is a fearsome combination."

"If you won't beat me, I'll tell you who paid me to keep you here all night."

I don't aim to beat you, and I know who paid you. As long as he never paid you to kill me, what the h.e.l.l."

"What are you going to do when you leave here? Are you sure you'll be able to kill him? He said he would be very cross with me if I let you out tonight."

"Well, I'll tell you what we'd best do. since I'm supposed to spend the night here, I'd just as soon. You did say you didn't want me to tell Hungry Calf and the others, didn't you?"

"Don't tell them! I'll do anything."

"I know. I'm going to have to tie you up. Not that I don't trust you, you understand, but I'd never in this world be able to fall asleep with you running about maybe looking for knives and such."

"I wouldn't try again to hurt you. This person is afraid."

"That makes two of us. I'll tie you gentle, but I'll tie you fast. You want to do anything, first?"

She started to protest, but she knew he meant it, so as Longarm rummaged through her things for a rope she pulled a chamber pot from under the bed and relieved herself. From the long, hissing sound, he knew she was badly frightened.

He found a length of cotton clothesline, tested it with a few snaps, and decided it would do. He brought the coil to the bunk and sat down, fishing in his pants for his jackknife. Dances-Humming rose to her feet and stood before him, resigned to his will.

Longarm cut the rope into four sections and got up, pulling the top blanket from the bunk. He threw it out in the middle of the floor and patted the quilted surface as he said, "Climb aboard and pick out a comfortable position; you'll be in it for some time."

"I sleep best on my stomach."

"There you go, then. Face down, hands above your head. I'll give you a little slack, but I'll hear you if you get to Jerking it, and I'll whup your bare a.s.s for it."

The treacherous little squaw lay across the mattress on her belly and Longarm lashed a wrist to each head post of the bunk while she sniffled and protested. He tied her ankles to the posts at the foot of the bunk, leaving her some slack to shift a bit. Then he sat down with his back to her and started pulling on his socks. She asked, "Why are you getting dressed?"

"To keep from freezing before morning, of course. I'll throw the blanket over you, directly. Then I'll hunker down in a corner in my duds, facing the door."

"It's so early. Even Many Ponies used to make love to me more than once a night."

"Honey, you are full of s.h.i.t as well as frigid. You won't get out of them ropes by stirring up the love potion pot. I'll allow it figures to be a tedious cold night, but what the h.e.l.l."

"Won't you do it one more time? Now that this person has less fear, she remembers how nice you felt inside of her. She was too worried to let herself go, before. This time will be different."

"Oh, h.e.l.l, I got my socks on and you're hogtied just right, and face down to boot!"

"I can raise myself high enough. See?"

He saw indeed, as the moonlight now lancing through one window shone on the firm, plump hemispheres of her tawny b.u.t.tocks. He ran his free hand over her flesh, soothingly, and sighed, "Don't know as it's right to do it to a gal tied up with ropes. Read someplace about this French feller who liked to do it that way, and the book said he was touched in the head."

"Untie me, then."

"In a pig's eye! You don't want to get humped. You only want to have them ropes off you!"

"That's not this person's reason. Feel the way she's gushing with her need!"

He explored the crevice between her writhing b.u.t.tocks and warm brown thighs with his fingers, noting, "You're drooling like a woman in love and that's a fact."

"Do it! For some reason this person is excited by the ropes!"

Longarm got up and climbed aboard the bunk, resting his weight on all fours as he positioned his knees up and to either side of her hips. It was awkward in this position, but as Dances-Humming felt his erection in the wet crevice between them, she moved herself into line and took advantage of the slack bondage to engulf him with a hungry sigh.

"Oh, it feels so... interesting this way!" she giggled as Longarm, getting the hang of it, began to rock back and forward on his knees. It was well for him that he was a practiced horseman with well-developed riding muscles; even so, his thighs began to cramp by the time it was too late to stop. The Indian girl began to gyrate wildly as she literally screwed herself on and almost off, biting her lip as she groaned delighted words in her own language, for Dances-Humming was not a white man's love-toy now. She reverted to her birthright as a natural, hot-blooded girl who a missionary, in his ignorance, might describe as "primitive."

This time she didn't fake an o.r.g.a.s.m. She had one, then another and another as the man who'd mastered her pounded and pounded her from the rear. Longarm gasped, "Oh, Jesus H. Christ!" and let her rip. It felt funny as h.e.l.l to come with both legs fixing to bust.

He was tempted to untie her and make a night of it, now that they'd become better acquainted, but he knew he'd need his strength, come sunup, and he still didn't trust her far enough to spit.

He climbed off and got dressed, throwing the Hudson Bay blanket over the crooning, s.e.x-drugged little squaw. He bent and kissed her on the ear. Then he went to a corner and slid down to squat Mexican-style with his holster pulled around between his thighs. He reloaded the.44. Then he crossed his arms over his raised knees and lowered his head to them, trying to think if he'd left any loose ends.

He couldn't think of any. His saddle and possibles were stored in the Agency, along with Kim Stover. If any of the others got in trouble with squaws or corn squeezings it wasn't his duty to worry about it. Agent Caldwell and the tribal council were getting paid to keep things down to a roar, hereabouts.

It was already getting chilly, as the thin air of the high country surrendered its stored sunlight to the stars. He knew he'd have a frozen a.s.s by daybreak, but he'd been cold before, and he aimed to rise early and to be wide awake as soon as he did so.

He might have dreamed. He must have dreamed, for he was thinking about how cold it was out here on the picket line tonight with the enemy just across the river and no picket fires allowed this close to the front by order of the general when, somewhere, a rooster crowed, and he sat up, rubbing the cobwebs from his brain and shivering in the icy dawn.

He sat still for a moment, gazing across the little cabin at the girl on the bunk. She was watching him from under the edge of the blanket, her sloe eyes unreadable. Longarm nodded and said, "'Morning."

"This person has been trying to understand you. Even for a white man, you act crazy."

"It was your idea to do it that way. I'm d.a.m.ned if I can see what that French feller got out of it. Can't change position worth a d.a.m.n."

"This person wasn't talking about that. It was very exciting to be taken as a captive. Now the tales of the old women make more sense. What makes no sense at all is the way you acted after you made this person tell you the truth."

"Would you rather I'd have spanked you?"

"No. Many Ponies tried to beat me, once. I sent him home to his mother's lodge. I thought you'd go after the man who paid me to betray you."

"And miss all the fun we had? Along with being dumb, you lack the imagination of your people, Dances-Humming. The Ho are famous hunting and fighting folks. The Dakota call 'em their favorite enemies; it's hard as anything to outwit the Ute band of the Ho."

He got up, stretching and moving his holster over to his left hip as he came over and removed the blanket to untie her. Dances-Humming rolled over and writhed invitingly on her back, asking, "Would you like to do it the old-fashioned way this time?"

"I'd like to. Can't. Got too many ch.o.r.es to tend to. I'll be leaving now, with some parting words of advice. If you repeat 'em to the BIA I'll have to call you a liar, but you ain't making it as an Indian, gal. If I was you, I'd move down to Salt Lake and take up the trade near the U.P. station. You're a pretty little thing, and you could make your fortune off railroad roustabouts and whisky drummers looking for what you're so good at. You stay here on the reservation, selling half-a.s.s treachery along with what you're good at, and some night one of the decent folks hereabouts will surely cut your throat."

He left as she was still protesting her inborn goodness. Outside, the air had a bite to it, but tasted crisp and clean. The girl's cabin, like most Indian dwellings, was unventilated and smoke-scented, for folks living close to nature with few warm clothes valued warmth more than their tears, and Indians could put up with more smoke than you'd think was good for their eyes.

As he walked toward the agency, he wondered if Caldwell would notice the squaw-smell clinging to his unwashed hide. He probably wouldn't. The whole little town smelled Indian. It wasn't a bad smell, just different. White towns smelled of coal smoke, unwashed wool, and horse s.h.i.t. Indian villages smelled of burning dung, greased rawhide, and the dry, corn-husk odor of Indian sweat. By now, Caldwell and his woman smelled that way themselves.

As he approached the agency, a young Ho fell in beside him and said, "I am called Spotted Bear. Hungry Calf had me watching the dead man in the smokehouse."

"I know, brother. How long ago did the man in the red coat steal the body?"

"Many hours ago. He took his own and one of our ponies, too. He rode out just after midnight, but his sign is easy to read. When shall we go after him?"

"We're not going to trail him, brother. I'll see that the owner of the stolen pony gets paid double. You and your friends did well."

The Indian smiled at the compliment. "We did as you asked, but we don't understand it. Wasn't it your plan to let the red coat do a bad thing so you could kill him?"

"No. He was not a bad man. Just a fool pest I want to get rid of. I knew he wouldn't leave without the dead man as a present for his she-chief, so I let him steal the body."

"Does the crazy red coat's she-chief eat human flesh?"

"No. She wants the dead man's, uh, scalp. She thinks he did a bad thing to one of her people."

"Oh. What did the dead man do to the red coat's tribe?"

"Nothing. But he don't know that. He's likely huggin' himself right now for being so all-fired foxy. We can forget about him. He's a good woodsman, and since he thinks we're tracking him, he'll make sure n.o.body sees him again till he gets where he's going. Did anybody else try to get away during the night?"

"No. All the white men are sleeping in their blankets by the fire. Some of them had firewater and got drunk. The reservation police are watching them, but your orders were not to interfere, just watch, is this not so?"

"You are a good and clever warrior, Spotted Bear. I'll leave you now. I don't want the other white men to know we're close."

As the Indian dropped back, Longarm went on up to the agency. He smelled ham and eggs, so he knew the Caldwells were early risers, like their charges. Someone had been watching from a window, because the door opened as he came up the steps and Caldwell said, "We've been looking for you. Sent a Ute out to fetch you when the wire came, but he said he didn't know where you were."

"I sleep private. What wire are we talking about?"

Caldwell handed him a piece of yellow paper, explaining, "This came in right after the Mountie telegraphed his own report. Your own outfit was likely listening in."

Longarm held the telegram up to the light and read: TO: DEPUTY LONG OURAY RESERVATION STOP.

#ONE WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN UTAH TERRITORY STOP #TWO WHAT HAPPENED TO KINCAID STOP #THREE DO YOU NEED a.s.sISTANCE STOP.

Longarm chuckled and folded the telegram away, following the agent inside. He nodded to the two women seated at the breakfast table and when Portia Caldwell invited him to some ham and eggs, he said, "In a minute, ma'am. I have to send a message to my chief. If he doesn't find one waiting for him at his office, he'll be hard on the help."

Caldwell took him into an office where a sending set sat under a rack of wet-cell batteries. Longarm sat down at the table and began to tap out his reply, routing it through the Bureau of Indian Affairs to the Justice Department and thence to the Denver office. With the salutations out of the way, he sent: ANSWER TO #ONE MY JOB STOP ANSWER TO #TWO LIKELY DEAD STOP ANSWER TO #THREE No STOP SIGNED LONG.

Agent Caldwell, who'd sent some Morse in his time, had listened in. He said, "If that don't confuse your boss, it pure confuses me! Would you mind letting me in on just what the h.e.l.l you're up to, old son?"

"Cutting and branding, like I said. Just got rid of that feller from Canada, and by the way, you can use your smokehouse again. Sergeant Foster rode off with the body."

"You let the Northwest Mounted steal a U.S. federal fugitive?"

"No. I let him think he did. That owlhoot was just a poor shiftless thief who never did anything Uncle Sam's interested in. Got at least a couple of birds with one shot, too. By slickering the Mountie into vanishing off into the blue with the evidence, I can forget who might have to answer to Utah for killing him. I'd be obliged if we kept all this between us, though. Might be a few birds left to that shot I just mentioned."

"What was that about Kincaid?"

"He's another deputy, turned up missing. I'm looking for the one that bushwhacked him on his way to Crooked Lance. Been snooping around for Mexican heels and a.30-30 deer rifle amongst the folks I brought over here yesterday evening. Ain't found anybody that fits, yet. But we'll have more company, soon. Let's see about them ham and eggs. I've worked up a real appet.i.te, likely from the mountain air."