Slocum 420 by Jake Logan Page B

generous. Fortunately, those curves were all in the right spots to give her rounded hips and large breasts that swayed beneath the loose-fitting material of her low-cut blouse.
    Never one to pass an opportunity to get his hands on a body like that, Slocum took her into his arms and gave her a playful pat on the backside. “Why the hell would I forsake you for any other, Nellie?”
    Tossing her mane of strawberry blond hair over one shoulder, Nellie replied, “I can’t think of a reason. Lord knows I take good care of you when you’re here.” She looked over at Womack and added, “I could still take care of you as well, you know.”
    â€œI know, Nellie,” Womack said with a shaky nod. “But we’re just here for drinks.”
    Winking at them, Nellie said, “That’s what all the men say.” She pressed herself against Slocum so her soft, plump breasts rubbed against his chest, and then she reached down to cup his groin. “I bet I can convince you to change your mind before too long.”
    â€œI bet you could,” Slocum said.
    Womack placed a hand upon Slocum’s shoulder. “Just so you know, missy, this man was robbed recently and doesn’t have much in the way of money. I’m treating him to a drink if you’d care to join us.”
    Nellie wriggled enticingly away from Slocum, allowing him to get a lingering feel of her breasts and hips as she stepped back. “I already drink for free in here,” she said. “Sorry to hear about what happened.”
    â€œMaybe I’ll tell you about it later,” Slocum said.
    â€œMaybe.” With that, Nellie waved at both men and sauntered off to greener pastures.
    Turning his attention to Womack, Slocum said, “Money isn’t the only reason she crawls into my bed, you know. I’ve only decided to pay her a couple of times and she still comes back for more.”
    â€œI have no doubt about that,” Womack said. “But at least I bought us some breathing room for a few minutes. Let’s get them drinks.”
    Both of them were recognized by most everyone in the Axe Handle, but for vastly different reasons. The men who tossed waves at Womack or shared a few words with him on the way to the bar did so because they either worked for him or knew someone who did. Most of the ones who paid their respects to Slocum were either former drinking partners or had sat across from him at a poker table since he’d arrived in town. By the time they’d found a spot to stand at the bar, they’d socialized with over half the folks in the place.
    â€œA whiskey for me and my friend,” Womack said to the barkeep. “I’m buying.”
    â€œI’ll take my two drinks right now,” Slocum said. “Just in case you try to squirm out of your offer.”
    The barkeep looked over to Womack, who rolled his eyes and nodded. After the barkeep had stepped away to fetch the liquor, Womack said, “I’m a man of my word, John. You should know as much by now.”
    â€œI’m not doubting your word,” Slocum replied. “I’m doubting your tolerance for whiskey. I’ve seen you slur your words after one beer. Can’t have things slipping your mind after the first drink of red-eye.”
    â€œFair enough,” Womack sighed. “And since we’re talking about reputations, I’d appreciate you not wandering off to keep company with one of these ladies before I get a chance to introduce you to the men who you’ll be leading out into the woods to hunt that killer.”
    Just then, the barkeep returned with their drinks. He set two glasses down in front of them and poured some whiskey from a bottle with no label. Slocum lifted his glass and said, “Here’s to a good hunt,” before tossing the drink down. As soon as he set the glass back on the bar, it was filled with another shot of whiskey. Since Womack had had his