Chapter Twenty
Suds
My sugar’s inside by the time the old Chevy pickup comes to a stop. When I see who’s arrived, I snap the pistol’s safety on, brush the sand off my chest, and zip up my jeans.
The wrinkles in the tribal chief’s weathered face deepen when he smiles and extends his hand. “Hello, my friend.”
“Sam and I were just… ah…” Shaking his firm grasp, I feel like a teen caught underneath the bleachers.
Slicing the air horizontally with his, he chuckles. “Please, I may be old but I do remember the lure of the desert.”
“Come inside?” Gun safely tucked into my waistband, I tug my t-shirt over my head, and cross the rickety front porch.
My wife opens the door with a welcoming smile and I introduce her. “Sam, meet James Coyote. He’s the reservation’s leader. Chief? This here is Samantha.”
“Hi.” Cheeks red, lips swollen, and hair in a mussed up ponytail, my gal looks thoroughly sated.
“So you’re the woman who tamed this wild stallion?” The old man cups both her hands in his, winks, and her blush deepens.
“If you ask Suds, he’ll say it was the other way around.” She shoots me a sly grin that goes straight to my cock and in order to hide the erection, I stand behind the table.
“Sam, honey, would you make us some coffee?”
“Sure. I got this.” She narrows her gaze at the old pot then raises her brows as if to ask if I’ve done lost my mind.
While she struggles with the simplest of cooking tasks, I chuckle. At first, the chief seems confused, but he soon understands my amusement as my domestically-challenged partner stares at the coffee can’s instructions with confusion.
Leaning back in the old wooden chair, he crosses his arms, and traps me in an accusatory gaze. “Silver Moon came to see me.”
“And?” I’m not ready to rip the bandage off the open wound but neither do I want to insult the old man.
“She thinks you didn’t believe her.”
“I called my dad. He denied it but…” I shrug.
When he frowns, the lines in his forehead deepen. “She came back home to us soon after it happened. Her mother, your grandmother, later explained the whole sordid tale.”
When I don’t respond, he sighs. “You two ever think of moving out here for good?”
“With a porta-potty? I think not?” My wife sets thick mugs down on the table while the coffee maker hisses.
“Most of our houses have full indoor plumbing. Sebastian just refuses to add it. I think he likes the charm.” He’s not too far from the truth but I would never admit it.
As the pot percolates, the chief’s hand reaches into his back pocket. He pulls out his wallet and passes me a Utah driver’s license with Sam’s picture.
“Here ya go.”
The forgery is damn near perfect.
“This is good.” I share it with my wife.
“As you asked, bring her to the trading post.” Wolf holds out his mug so Sam can pour.
“I was thinking, it’d be better if someone else shoots her.” I add some milk to my coffee and as I sip the bitter brew, a hot breeze blows through the front door.
“I’ll see to it.” The chief studies the ghostly kitchen curtains as he spoons sugar into his cup. “Are you certain about this? Seems to me it would be safer to stay put.”
“Eventually, they’ll find us.” Sam sits down with us, tastes the sludge, then adds more cream.
