Jon Reskind: Caesar comes book I

Christ, it wasn't even honorable to tie both of them into the same thought! Maybe if he'd waited until things were in better straits here in the valley, he could've made this twenty-two year old golden young Venus some sort of a physically satisfying husband! Not only was Lydia an ever-present menace to their marriage with her sensually vicious body and mind, but there was the rotten drug problem the town had suddenly been exposed to among its young people… and even worse, the unbelievable wild-dog pack that was raiding the herds for food, plus, the stupid damned stories that were spreading about its huge, mysterious leader. He'd brought her there right in the midst of it all… his precious Jeannie, exposing her to the worst possible side of the valley. He hadn't been thinking… couldn't, damnit! He'd been that far gone… completely and totally in love… if that term could accurately describe what had happened to him.

Hell, for himself, he wasn't sorry. Like any man, he was too damned lustful. But for the exotically precious young woman he held snugly embraced against him, he couldn't help feel genuine concern. Christ, he loved her so damned much! If only he'd used his head, or heart, instead of his brainless hard cock to do his thinking…!

"You're awake, aren't you, Darling," he heard her softly whisper in a statement rather than a question. "I could tell by the way your hand began to squeeze and stroke my breast."

"Y-yes," he breathed, feeling her trying to cuddle her intoxicating, nakedness back against him even closer, her smooth little hand holding his that was intently clutching the firm resilience of the unbelievably full mounds on her chest.

A revived sensation of desire charged through him at the meaningful squirm of her satin-smooth buttocks back against his cock between them, causing it to lurch into the first stages of re-hardness and she passionately whimpered. He kissed the crown of her head, even as thoughts of Link Morgan, Lydia Newell, and the ferocious dog-pack with its wild leader raced through it. Why he should think of them, and especially a brute animal at such a time, was unanswerable! She was so beautiful, so softly luscious, so absolutely feminine…!

"W-what's bothering you, Darling?" she whispered.

"You. Just you, baby… nothing else."

"Oh Darling…" she said, kissing his hand. "I-I know you want to mean that… but there's something else on your mind… Already, I can tell, and I've only known you two-months. You can't lie to me, Mark… not ever… Please? What is it? Let me worry with you? Isn't that part of our life together?"

He didn't answer right away. Then: "Of course, baby. I'll always tell you," he lied, feeling protective in the act. "Minor things, really… day to day details that I have to be concerned with…"

"What about the dogs?" she asked in a hushed tone.

"The dogs?"

"The wild-pack everyone is talking about that raid the sheep?"

"What about them? It happens all the time."

"Not according to the women in the neighborhood," she quietly replied. "Old Granny Obert said something about it being a hundred years ago when the valley was first settled that dogs actually ran wild like this. And… and she insists that… that they had the same leader…"

"Good Lord, Jean! You can't believe that medieval nonsense! Dammit, those pipe-smoking, nursing-home cases ought to be carted away!" Mark snapped, rolling onto his back and letting free of her breast.

Immediately, Jean turned over, crowding close to hug him. He could see her lovely heart-shaped face by the light of the half-moon filtering in through their open window.

"Well, don't get angry with me, sweetheart," she entreated. "I'm only trying to tell the deputy sheriff what's circulating around town…"

"The deputy sheriff can't do a damned thing in this little burg!" he snapped, not meaning to sound angry. "His jurisdiction begins at its town-limits. Inside those barriers, Chief of Police Link Morgan enforces the law… such as it is…"

"Darling, Darling, please…? You're beginning to sound mean."

"I don't intend to… I'm sorry," he said, his brain suddenly filled with the memory of the three boys he'd picked up for pushing dope at the Valley High School. He'd turned them over to Link and nothing had happened yet, not even a hearing before Judge Collins… but then, even the judge was on Link's pay, wasn't he. Goddamnit, how could you maintain law and the citizens' rightful peace in an area like this with such as Link Morgan and the Newells? They controlled! Damnit, sometimes he was tempted to ask Sheriff Hester for a transfer! He would if it wasn't for his dad… dead now, killed by Link's accidental hunting bullet…! Yeah, he would because of Jeannie, but he knew he'd never be able to forgive himself! The sons of bitches! Goddamnit, he never should have brought her there until it was all cleared…!

The telephone interrupted his thoughts. Jean let free of him as he fumbled for the light-switch then the instrument setting on the table beside him. She tensed as it rang again. There had been only a few such night calls since their marriage, but each of them had been serious enough to take him from her… auto accidents… a robbery… and…

"What the hell are you saying, Doc?" she heard Mark incredulously blurt out. "The Purcell girl… Link Morgan's niece…? My God… did he maul her…? What…? Th-that's impossible…! I can't believe… listen, I'll be right there, Doc…! Have you called Link? Okay… okay, I'll be right over…!"

Jean could hardly believe the appalled expression wrenching the handsome features of her husband's rugged face. He was staring at her, but frighteningly not seeing her, she realized. Whatever it was all about, the knowledge of it had actually drained the blood from his chiseled features!

"Wh-what is it, Mark?" she hesitantly asked, sitting upright in the bed and pulling the sheet up over her nakedness as he hurriedly bolted to the floor and began to dress.

"What…? Oh… an accident, honey… there's been an accident… nothing for you to worry about," he managed after a moment, as if her were pacifying a child.

He was lying and she blew it, that thought alone sending an icy chill along her naked spine. He would never he, only to protect her, or keep her from worrying… "A-Annie Purcell, you said… and… and did he maul her… please, Darling, tell me the truth…?"

"Damnit, Jean, it's nothing for you to concern yourself with!" he snapped as he strapped on his holstered pistol, then went to the closet and brought out his shotgun. His sharpness of tone, rather than offending her, only added to her anxiety. "Just go to sleep… and I'll be back as quick as I can…"

He started out the door, then, as if on second thought, crossed the room to close their bedroom window, that surprising act almost completely unnerving her.

"Why did you do that?" she brusquely questioned. "Would you like to have me suffocate here in my ignorance, too?"

She saw him swallow tightly and move toward the bed, bending down to kiss her. "Please, baby… I can't explain now… there isn't time. I've got to get over to Doc Emory's," he said, stroking her back as he warmly kissed her lips. "Just trust me and do as I ask… all right?"

"Al-all right, Darling… I'm sorry…"

"I know… now try to get some sleep… and don't worry."

"I-I'II try," she promised as he smiled back one last time before disappearing through the doorway.

Some dozen men in hasty dress had gathered in front of the doctor's house when Mark drove up. Most of them were carrying rifles or shotguns, and the others, he assumed, were armed one way or another. He snapped his own shotgun into its accessible bracket and stepped from the patrol car.

"Hello, Mark," a naselish voice he recognized as Fred Clark's greeted, the tall, thin man approaching him. "I found her… stumbling along Cypress Street, naked as a plucked little jay-bird and filthy dirty, poor kid…"