Free Cold Steel and Hot Lead [How the West Was Done 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) by Karen Mercury Page A

cannonball,” Murphy added. “Well, he’s trying his hand at this. They’ve got some grandiose idea of putting on a production of The Black Crook .”
    Rudy’s face was wreathed in smiles. “How are they going to pull off that amazing transformation scene? Where the rocky grotto turns into fairyland?” He told his companions, “This grand production ran in New York City for many months. Took five hours to stage the whole thing.”
    “Beats me how they’re doing it. I know they’re only doing a few acts. They’re in there whacking up backdrops and painting scenery to beat the band.”
    Alameda asked, “What does The Black Crook involve? Other than a fairyland grotto.” They squeezed their way into the theater. The intent was for her to audition for a part, any bit part, so she could observe Antonio Franconi, perhaps follow him back to his hiding place. With the help of Derrick and Rudy, of course. And that was assuming Antonio was the kidnapper. There might be other Italian-looking men with very resilient limbs—perhaps the ominous Joe the Rubber-Skinned Man, Derrick thought with a chuckle.
    He should not have been chuckling about this, but recent events had rendered him extremely silly. First, the meeting with Rudy Dunraven. Not only did he feel he’d bumped into someone he’d known his entire life, it was clear their destinies were interwoven. As long as the fellow refrained from sliding his tongue down Derrick’s throat, he would be eager to see where this would all lead. Derrick hoped Rudy didn’t try anything like that again. Derrick’s prick was still tingling from the stimulation of kissing another man, and this was an unsettling feeling for him.
    Then the majestic Alameda Hudson. What a glorious figure she possessed! Derrick had never seen anything like it. Her bosom defied gravity, the way it floated, bounced, and rippled. Of course it wasn’t just her figure Derrick was entranced by. Alameda was a regular spitfire. The way she had snapped at him when she thought he was a married man impressed him. She had taken him down a peg or two! Derrick had a suspicion she could hold her own in matters of politics, sex, or even religion—and they had discussed all three subjects just now in her bedroom.
    And he couldn’t even allow himself to imagine what she had been doing thirty seconds before he had barged into her bedroom—in the throes of such a violent orgasm she had fainted and hit her head. If he allowed himself to ponder this, he would be shooting in his pants. Even now, he had to keep his greatcoat buttoned or be mortified that he had an erection that could break a plate.
    Rudy was saying, “There is an evil wealthy count who desires to marry an innocent girl, betrothed to a poor artist. So the count arranges for the poor artist to fall into the hands of an evil wizard who has made a pact with the devil. The first part just has minimally clad women doing songs and dances and some debauched comedy by male comedians. Then there’s a hodgepodge of burlesque, then the grand finale with the fairyland I mentioned.”
    Alameda said, “Minimally clad? Is there any role where a woman could cover up her arms and legs?”
    Rudy said, “It’s a burlesque, Alameda. This is one of the main attractions. Men as well as women enjoy looking at female forms.”
    “Why don’t you take a part, to shadow Franconi around?”
    “Some of them already know me. And everyone in town by now knows that we’ve vowed to find Kittie’s kidnapper. Franconi would just bolt if he saw us participating in his play.”
    Derrick said, “You don’t have to do it if you don’t feel comfortable. We can all just lurk outside and wait for Franconi to go back to his abode. Wherever he’s staying.”
    “Probably a tent,” said Rudy. “Cannonball!” He raised an arm to a fellow who did, indeed, look round.
    “No, I don’t mind,” said Alameda, although she clutched Derrick’s arm. He felt proud to be escorting such a