Jon Reskind - Caesar comes book I

Mark swung into the saddle before turning to see her brushing the back of her hand across her lips and chin, standing spread-legged with her eyes blazing in unfulfilled rage. "I'm sorry, Lydia, but it's just as I said. I love my wife! It's all over between us… and I wish I didn't have to prove it to you this way. I can only suggest you find another stud to play with…!"

She was wildly running toward him as he heeled the sorrel's flanks and the big animal raced off with a sudden spurt, galloping downhill with sure-footed agility.

"You… you sonofabitch!" he heard her scream. "Goddamn you Mark Blakely… I'll have your nuts for this! I swear I will! I'll have your nuts…!" she screamed after him until the sorrel's pounding hooves drowned her voice. But he didn't know that he could blame her. It was a miserable thing he'd done… yet, how else did you handle a possessive vixen like Lydia Newell, except in the only vein she understood… sex! And how the hell was he going to tell Jeannie… because he knew he had to… otherwise, whatever it was they had between them would be worthless! Yes, he had to tell her… but how, he sickeningly thought, the faint, screeching voice of the young woman still threateningly audible even with the wind rushing past his ears…!

It was a reluctant Link Morgan who agreed to the town council's adoption of Mark's suggested plan to post sentries throughout the streets that night. To the powerfully built police chief, it was more than a matter of stubborn pride, plus the fact that he'd been overshadowed right in his own bailiwick. Then, adding insult to injury, they had enraged him by insisting he accept the deputy sheriffs assistance and that their offices share authority within the town limits until this pillaging crisis was passed.

Actually, the barrel-chested law official had feared such a forced affiliation from the beginning, the fact that his department consisted of two elderly and worthless special policemen who were capable of nothing more than traffic duty on holidays. He wanted no outside element nosing around his private domain, especially a trained lawman the likes of Mark Blakely who might just accidentally stumble onto one of his profit-making operations. This was the reason he had so rabidly tried to gain the citizen's help in forming a posse, and he'd felt certain he'd had the perfect justification with his niece, Annie's rape, but it hadn't worked that way… at least, as yet, it hadn't.

He sat now in his small drab office in the town hall, looking across the scarred desk at a local, pimply-faced teenager named Leo Vincent. The stub of a dead cigar protruded from one corner of the police chief's mouth, and it bobbed when he said: "Where're your buddies, kid?"

"Around," the teenager indifferently replied, sitting slumped in the chair with his long, thin legs stretched out. "I expect you mean Corky and Billy White?"

Link didn't like the boy, any of the three for that matter; they were arrogant, worthless products of their generation, but they'd served their purpose for him… up until Blakely had picked them up for pushing the grass he, Link Morgan, supplied them with.

Christ, he'd wanted to break their friggin' heads, but that wouldn't have solved a damn thing. Fortunately, the deputy held no jurisdiction in town and was forced to turn the boys over to him. So far, Link had been able to let the issue hang tight and simmer down, though the three had no idea how far their asses were in the sling, yet it hardly seemed to bother this one, the big man thought, studying the boy's unconcerned attitude.

"You know you're Goddamned situation isn't any bed-o'-roses right now, don't you kid?" Link gruffly jabbed.

"Meaning…?" the pimply-faced Leo Vincent mumbled.

"Meaning, that Deputy Sheriff could send your fucking asses for a long ride if he decided to press the issue!" the police chief edgily spat.

"Hmmm… I suppose so," the boy replied, his thin face spreading in a nasty grin. "But now… that might not look very good for you, eh Dad… if you know what I mean?"

Link felt the blood ragingly flush into his face. He brought his clenched hand heavily down onto the desk top. "Listen, you stupid little punk, don't you ever 'Dad' me again, or I'll rip your scrawny cock off and shove it right down your ugly throat! You understand that? Eh…?"

The teenager sensed his own cheeks quickly growing pale as he brought himself upright in a chair, a wave of tight fear whipping through him. He hadn't exactly used his head on that one… "I-I didn't mean any…"

"You got too friggin' much lip, Vincent… and I didn't exactly like that implication of me!" Link snarled at him. "Maybe you're more fink than I thought…!"

"Aw… please, Chief… I'm sorry," the boy tried at making amends, his fears growing at the infuriated sight of the powerful man. "You know I wouldn't rat…"

"You'd do any Goddamned thing you could to save your ass, punk, just like your buddies," the police chief accused, "which is the reason I called you in here… so pick up your ears and listen good. I've got an idea I think you're going to like…"

The teenager respondingly did as he was told, breathing an inward sigh of relief when the huge, white-haired man's blood pressure seemed to subside, his gruff voice dropping to a barely audible level. He watched him lean forward onto his desk and say: "The town council voted this morning to give Mark Blakely authority inside Crescent Valley limits as long as that Goddamned dog-pack is raiding sheep and raping young girls. That means, that he could arrest you three again and bring you up before Judge Collins… not exactly a sweet picture, eh?"

"N-No… no Sir, it ain't!"

"Which is the reason I tried to get up a posse and go up into those hills… to keep this from happening," Link, stretching a point, informed, wondering, how much of it the boy was understanding. But that didn't matter anyway. He went on: "Now I figure that had it been Blakely's sweet little blonde wife who had been fucked shitless instead of my niece, he would've been singin' a different tune right now, eh? You beginning to get my meaning, boy…?"

"M-Maybe… some of it, anyway," Leo Vincent replied, trying, but not sure as he husked in a half-whisper, tightly swallowing.

"Well here it is in a nutshell, kid," Link said, his colorless eyes narrowing. "You round up your two half-ass buddies and plan to pay sweet lil' Mrs. Blakely a visit tonight in her bedroom about witching-hour time, eh? You'll wear masks, and I just happen to have an old bear-claw you'll take along to scratch her up a bit… make it look authentic. In the bargain, you boys ought to get a little sexy fun out of it… a piece of ass or so. How's it sound to you, or haven't you ever seen the deputy's luscious wife?"

"Jeez!" Leo Vincent gasped. "Sure… sure, I've seen her! Christ, she's a knockout, Chief…!"

"Some fuck eh?"

"Damn… I imagine, with that beautiful ass… but… but, I still don't get it?" the teenager choked, his small eyes beading. "I hear they're going to have sentries posted…?"

"I'll take care of all that… I'll even place them myself, and I'll keep Blakely occupied," Link assured him. "You just do exactly as I say, and at the right time. Make sure there're no lights on, and that none of you speak. Don't scar her up too much… just enough so it'll look like that Goddamned Caesar bastard, right?"

"Yeah… yeah, I got all that," the boy hissed. "But hell, Chief, she's going to know we ain't no friggin' dog…"

"So, that's going to add spice to the whole story when she blurts it out, boy!" Link replied with a grin. "Like, maybe there'll be those who won't believe her after my niece's rape, especially if you've marked her up right! With a little help and gossip, folks might just think the sweet little thing is too ashamed to admit she's been dog-fucked, and made up the story about it being three men! Whatever, it's going to make Blakely ready to get a posse of guns together to ride down that pack… and that's going to take the pressure off us and this office…!"