“Oh, well, I-I remember eating that roasted fox, what tasted so good.And I might have made more of a mess with it than I needed to, because I wanted—”
Oscar licked his lips, eyeing me up and down.
“—because I wanted you to start thinkin’ of other places I’d put my mouth and slobbered.”
I gaped at him.“Why, you little devil.I thought you were just real hungry and messy.”
His grin widened.“Well, I was hungry—but not only for the meat onthatbone.”
My breaths sounded loud now, and I shook my head in disbelief.
“You had me all figured out, I guess.”
“I thought I did.I didn’t think about thesaddle.”
I grunted.“Hmm.Good thing I got a practical side and a healthy imagination.”I tapped my finger against my forehead.
Oscar’s face went sober, and his eyes lit up with the fire I knew so well.
“You got the best imagination, Jimmy.I loved that so much.”
“I know,” I said, smiling.“Me, too.”
We sat there, caught up in remembering, both of us aroused and wanting.
“Jimmy, I wanna do that again.”
I almost choked on the whiskey I’d sipped.“You do?”
“Yeah.Only, which saddle would be more comfortable?Dixie’s or Onyx’s?”
I stared at him, holding my tin cup in trembling fingers, but amused all o’er again.“Which saddle would be morecomfortable?”
Oscar frowned and rubbed his chin.“I figure maybe we should use Dixie’s saddle, since that was the one from before.”
I stood, and Oscar followed me with his eyes.
“Or is it because you don’t want to mess Onyx’s fine saddle with three loads of sorry spunk?”
Oscar’s eyes went wide, and a shudder went through his whole body.
“Three?”he whispered with a reverential air.
“Isn’t that what I said, son?”I used my sternest voice to give him what he wanted.
“Yes, sir.”
I nodded.“Now you go get Dixie’s saddle and lay it out here by the fire.Not too close, ’cause I reckon we’ll be providin’ our own heat.”
Oscar scrambled up and strode to where I had laid Dixie’s saddle.He picked it up, along with the saddle blanket, and brought it o’er to a spot I indicated, where we’d be close enough to the fire to be warm but far enough not to worry about getting scorched.At least, not by the campfire.
“Now what?”he asked, breathing hard from exertion and a different kind of hunger.
I gestured in an offhand way.“Take your trousers down.I won’t make you go buck naked, ’cause it’s a mite chilly still, and I reckon it’s more scandalous if you’re half dressed, anyhow.”
Oscar’s mouth quirked into a grin.
“Oh, it is, Jimmy.It is,” he said, pushing his suspenders off his shoulders and shoving his trousers down to his calves, then unbuttoning his drawers and pushing them down, too.I’d persuaded him to wear underthings on our journey, to protect against chafing and keep him warm enough at night.
