Free Karen Mercury by The Wild Bunch [How the West Was Done 5]

in style, so he’d picked up what looked like a good thoroughbred bay from the Elkhorn Livery, but honestly, it had been years since he’d ridden a horse. It simply wasn’t done in Europe, where one got about on trains and cabs. And his ass was already sore from the short ride to Vancouver House, where he’d arrived apparently looking like a backwater sucker wearing “hairy chaps.”
    In the front study, all manner of photographic equipment was strewn about a table. Next to this table was a well-stocked sideboard. Chess had navigated there somewhat bowlegged and had poured a hefty whiskey by the time Zeke had managed to stop laughing. Zeke still giggled as he searched through a stack of newspapers on a bookshelf.
    Chess gulped the fiery liquor and said, “Now, Zeke. Did everyone in town hear about the Tower of Power incident and associate my name with it?”
    “Oh, no, sir.” Zeke found the article in question and rattled it at arm’s length.
    “Don’t call me ‘sir.’ My father said my name was kept out of it.”
    “Oh, it was! I was only laughing because the illustration—”
    Chess snatched the newspaper from Zeke’s hand. Oh, hell . “This jackass took complete artistic license! I never even had a moustache, and—what’s this? Smoking a hookah? And he’s made me fat!”
    Zeke now attempted to stifle his levity. A few chuckles escaped the sides of his mouth. “I knew you were never fat, sir—Chesney. I took exception to that myself. As for the hookah, who knows? It only adds to the exotic allure of the drawing, don’t you think?”
    “Exotic allure? He’s got me sinking down into this chair all roostered with my pants unbuttoned, and it looks like I either ravished or brained two of those hookers. How alluring could that possibly be? He may as well have drawn crosses for my eyes and had birds chirping over my head.” Chess slammed the newspaper onto the photographic table and poured more whiskey. “Look here, Zeke. You tell me that these chaps are worthless? They certainly feel worthless. I feel about as corpulent as the debauched fellow in that illustration, what with my legs rubbing together. I need to be outfitted for riding around the range over at Serendipity. Only, I’ve got to rename my new ranch. Neil’s keeping the Serendipity name for the small part he’s retaining.”
    “Well, yes,” Zeke said frankly. “You’ve got the denim pants right, and the boots are good. But those woolie chaps are only good for when there’s a blizzard. Otherwise you do look like a bear, and it’s July. Let’s get you some ordinary chaps and some more practical Texas spurs over at Freund and Brothers.”
    Chess realized that Zeke could be invaluable helping him sort things out in this new town, so he affably said, “Sure. After that, why don’t we stop in at the Morning Star Gallery? The doll playing Eve is a looker.”
    “All right!” cried Zeke, giggling goofily. “And you know, since I’ll be working with you, and you’re a ranch owner now, we’ll be a ‘bunch’! That’s what they call a group of fellows out gathering all the cows into one big herd. Maybe they’ll start calling us something exotic like ‘The Savage Bunch’ or ‘The Tower of Power Bunch.’”
    Chess snorted. “A group would have to be more than two.”
    Zeke shrugged. “‘The Savage Duo.’”
    “Chess!” Simon yelled from down the hall. “Come here and get these papers! You need to go to that lawyer Foster Richmond’s and sign the papers Neil and I already signed!”
    Zeke nodded. “I know where that is,” he told Chess.
    “And get me some honey!”
    “I know where that is, too.”
    Chess jangled out the front door. Things were starting to look up. He would find Fidelia and assert his courtship of her. He’d find some new spurs, and Spenser. He needed Spenser, as an experienced ranch hand. It would be pleasant to lounge around at night being pleasured by such a talented cocksucker, and Spenser’s ass