Chapter 8
The volatile little Indian, whom everyone called Comanche, stared up at the twin rectangles of light and said, "That lucky devil!"
"That's what he thinks now, the blonde man grated. "But he won't be so lucky when that babe comes back. She'll scream her head off and there'll be half a dozen guys in there before Hogan knows what's what. He'll spend the rest of the night in jail, sure as shootin'. "
"That might be worthwhile, Leroy," the fat man said.
"A night, sure. But Hogan'll get a lot more than that. Do you know how much a man can draw for attempted rape? And if he really rapes her ... well, that'll be the most expensive tumble he ever had!"
"I guess you're right," the fat man grumbled.
"Well, I think both you guys are yellow. You don't have the nerve to do anything." Comanche shifted back and forth, from one foot to the other.
"Go ahead, Injun," the fat man said. "If you wanta get your neck in the same sling with Hogan, go on up there."
"I will if you guys will," Comanche said, looking earnestly from one of them to the other.
"No dice," the thin blonde man said, jabbing at his teeth again with the toothpick.
"Sure!" Comanche exclaimed. "You got your Rosie. I've gotta roll into an empty bed."
"Tough toenails, Comanche!" The blonde man grinned. "That's what comes from not lookin' ahead."
Comanche swore. "Okay! Both of you are too yellow, but I'm not. I'm going up there with Hogan."
The fat man turned to Leroy. "Maybe if we all went, we'd stand a chance. I mean ... what're they gonna do to four guys?"
"Throw the four of us in jail, you hophead! They got jails that are big enough to hold a lot more than that."
The fat one looked at Comanche. "You really goin', Injun?"
He nodded with one jerk of his head. His eyes were bright, and the other men knew he meant it.
"We'll turn the lights out, see?" The fat man had hold of Leroy's arm. "She won't see a one of us. We'll keep our hands over her mouth. Two of us can hold her down and another keep her from yellin' while the fourth one's gettin' what he wants. Then we'll change. We'll each have a turn, Leroy."
"Man, you are nuts! I mean, you've really flipped!"
"He's talking sense, Leroy," the Indian argued. "We could do that. Four guys can get away with a lot that one or two guys can't."
"Leroy looked from one of them to the other and thought about what they'd said.
"You know you'd like some," the fat man grinned wisely. "Rosie's all right, but there's nothin' like the kind of wild tussle a babe like this will give yuh. I remember one time down in Oklahoma ... "
"Awright!" Leroy made a chopping motion with his hand. "Maybe we could get away with this. And, sure, I'd get as much of a kick as you guys. But suppose somethin' went wrong? Suppose somebody saw the three of us traipsin' in there, or suppose the babe's stronger than you think?"
"Strong enough to fight off four of us?" the fat man countered.
"Strong enough to make some noise give the wall some good pounding or yell or..."
"We'll be holding her," Comanche said, his eyes glinting. "And we'll have a hand clamped over her mouth."
"She can bite, can't she? Females bite and scratch like crazy."
"Well, I ain't gonna stand around here and argue," the Indian told him. "You comin', Chop?" he asked the fat man.
"The older guy licked his lips. "Yep. How about you, Leroy?"
The tall blonde man squinted. Then he tore the toothpick from his mouth and threw it to the pavement. "Okay! I'll probably be the sorriest man alive, but ... "
The Indian slapped him on the back. "Sorry? Man, you'll be flyin' ! "
"Come on," Chop said.
Leroy looked up and down the street, saw no one on the sidewalk, then took out after the other two. They were cutting across the street.
"There's a back way into that hotel," Chop said. "We'll use that. Nobody'll see us comin' or goin'. "
"Well, let's move along!" Leroy gave each of them a little shove and moved between them as they darted to an alleyway which flanked the hotel building.
In the ladies bathroom on the second floor, Jill was lazing in a tub of tepid water, soaping her breasts gently and wondering if the men were still waiting for her to return to her room.
As long as the light remained on, they would probably wait down there, she thought. The realization gave her a great deal of satisfaction. Look at the power she had over them! She could make them burn with desire, and she could make them stand and wait to burn some more.
She rinsed herself, holding each breast in turn and letting the warm water slide over the firm round globes. Her up-thrust nipples glistened. They were very pink now, she observed proudly. They looked just like they did after a man had spent a long time kissing them.
She stood up, her entire body wet and sleek and glowing. After stepping over the rim of the tub, she bent and released the stopper. The water began to gurgle down the drain.
Now she dried herself, moving the towel briskly to deepen the pinkness of her flesh. After she had finished and hung the towel up, she turned this way and that to admire her beauty in the tall but discolored mirror on the back of the bathroom door.
Well, time to go back, she decided. She had let those fellows wait long enough for their final peak.
She giggled softly and slipped into her robe.
The hallway was deserted when she stepped out of the bathroom. She padded to her own door and noted the strip of light showing beneath the scarred wood.
She turned the knob and walked in.
A prickle of apprehension touched the back of her neck as she stood inside the room and closed the door behind her. There was no reason jor her to feel this way, the thought. Well, she hadn't adjusted herself fully to the idea of being on her own; that was all. She liked the thrill of independence, but there was something about the old sense of security that she missed. Only time would take care of that.
Standing in the center of the room, she slipped her robe off. A cool breeze touched her from the half-open window, giving rise to a small rash of goose bumps. She hugged herself, cradling her ripe breasts on her arms and lifting them slightly. She drew her arms closer together until her two breasts kissed.
She looked down at them, crowded together with their nipples pointing high. A view like that should really please a man, she thought.
She moved now to the window and cast a quick glance down at the street.
The four men had gone.
An old duffer was trudging along the sidewalk under the lamp but he was looking straight in front of him. She could see no one else.
Oh, well. She sighed. Men would take only so much teasing, as she had found before. At least this way she didn't have any problem getting rid of them. They had known they couldn't have her and so they had just gone on their way. She bet they were still thinking about her, though.
She wondered if they would lie in bed thinking about her during the night.
Just as she started to turn from the window, she heard a sound behind her in the room. She whirled, fear grasping suddenly at her heart.
The room went black.
But she had seen them. Three, she thought. Three men. In her room. Now.
She screamed as a form vaulted against her, grasping and twisting her to the side and casting her toward the bed. A thick hand was around her mouth. She tried to cry out and she tried to bite, but the man's grip was so strong she could do neither.
Terrible fear was upon her, twisting at her vitals like a knife. She tried to kick, but there were hands holding her legs. And she heard a husky voice next to her ear:
"Don't fight, baby. Don't fight and you'll like this. If you fight, we're gonna treat you rough. You wouldn't want to get hurt now, would you?"
She couldn't see any of the men but she could see shapes around her, hovering, pressing, grasping, and holding her against the bed. She was nearly frozen with fright.
There were hands tugging her legs, other hands holding her awns and shoulders against the mattress. And hands at her breasts ... stroking, squeezing, pulling.
No! No! Oh, merciful heaven ... NO!
"You think anyone heard her when she yelled before?" one of the men asked another. His voice was tight and hard.
"If they didn't, they're not going to," another hard voice said. "Keep your hand on her mouth, Chop."
The man named Chop was bruising her lips with his hand. She tried to move her jaws, but she couldn't. She wriggled from side to side, trying to free one of her arms, but this was to no avail, either.
She couldn't fight them and she didn't have her switchblade within reach. With sickening dread, she realized there was nothing she could do. One of these men or perhaps all of them, were going to ...
Dear heaven!
A desperate effort, at which she expended all the strength she could command, tore one leg from the hands which had held her. Her knee struck the side of one man's head and she heard him cry out. She raised her knee further, jamming this hard to the body of another of her assailants. He grunted and fell away slackening his hold on one of her arms.
"Comanche ... dad-blast you..." the tallest, hard-voiced man complained as the Indian fell against him.
Jill pulled her arm free and swung claw-like at the face of the tall man, who was now bending over her. He screamed as she drew blood. She could feel the moisture at her fingertips and the sensation of her nails ripping his flesh.
"Get her ... get her..." the other hard-voiced man ordered. He was near her feet. That meant, she assumed, that he was to be the first.
"Get out of the way, you lousy Injun!" the tall man snapped.
One arm still free, though hands were grappling to restrain her. Jill swung this at the man whose hand was clamped across her mouth. She struck him full in the face and he grunted. She struck him again and twisted to the side, his hand slipped off her mouth.
She screamed with all her might.
One man's weight was fully above her now, holding her down and trying to cover her mouth. She got part of another scream out before the hand clamped into place. Then her brain swam dizzily as the man struck her across the side of the head.
She was dimly aware of the grumbling and muttering of the men and of the pressure of hands and bodies against her. Gradually her brain cleared and then...
Oh, glory! A man was kissing her!
The hand which was now against her mouth was even tighter than the other man's hand had been, and the arms which held hers against the bed gave her no opportunity to twist free. The kissing was making her wild. Not only could she feel the man's lips and tongue; she could also feel his teeth.
The man who was holding her down swore angrily. He was the one who'd been standing by her feet before. "I was to go first, you lousy slob!"
"Shut up, Chop," the tall man grunted. "You'll get your chance. We all will."
"Yeah, but I wanted a chance before one of you guys spoiled her."
The kissing stopped. "Okay!" the man who'd been doing the kissing said. (This was Chop, who'd had his hand against her mouth before.) "Go ahead, Hogan."
"Grab her arms. And hold her this time, you lug!"
"How about her mouth? Easy..."
A fist grabbed a hank of her hair. "Listen here, you witch," the tall man grated. "We're gonna change hands on your mouth and, if you try to yell, so help me I'll knock you silly with my fist. Y' understand that?"
Jill moved her head slightly, up and down. One hand slipped away and the other took its place. Jill hadn't tried to cry out. She didn't want to be hit again.
The man who had been above her was moving away. She could feel his fingers trailing along her legs, and then ... more kissing. Didn't these men want to do anything besides kiss her?
This thought was answered when the man they'd called Hogan raised his head and exclaimed, "Now for some action!"
She was nearly paralyzed with fright. The pressure of hands against the sides of her knees, as the other hands continued to hold her arms and her mouth, told her she had only a few more seconds. A few more seconds of virginity. A few more seconds before she would be raped.
She couldn't stand that! She would die!
She twisted at the hands and arched her back.
"Bucks like a bronco, don't she?" the one called Chop said with a lewd chuckle.
"We know she can fight. Let's see if she can..." The word which completed Hogan's sentence offended her, but that was the very least of her concern right then.
The man was hovering, moving closer ... No . . .no. . . .no . . .he mustn't! She felt his weight, his hands, but then suddenly he pushed back from her.
"What was that?" he demanded. "What?" one of the others said. "That sound. Quiet."
There was a rattling at the door. "Miss Marshall?" (Jill recognized the voice of the hotel manager.)
"Come on!" one of the men growled.
The bed rocked as they leaped away from her, and now her arms, legs and mouth were free. She screamed. Again. Again.
Sitting up, she saw that the men were clustered about the door. "Don't let him get the lights," one of them whispered urgently.
The door swung open and there was a tremendous scuffle. The men fought in a formless mass, silhouetted against the dim light from the hall. There were bits of words and curses, grunts and yells, and these were mixed with the shuffling of feet and the sounds of blows being struck.
The hotel manager cried out. There was another voice outside the room.
The would-be rapists were running.
They were gone, with shouts following behind them in the hotel corridor.
Jill was barely aware that the hotel manager was struggling to his feet in the patch of light inside the open door. The scene wavered before her eyes, tilted, and she fell onto her back on the bed.
The ceiling light bathed the room in brilliance, but she was already unconscious. She didn't see the old hotel manager as he stood over her, bleeding from the nose and lip and holding one side of his head.
"Miss ... Miss?"
"What's the matter? What happened?" People were running into the room.
"Call the sheriff," the hotel man said. "And call Doc Perkins."
"Is she ... dead?"
"No," he said sitting up. "But my head's danged near busted open."
"Who were they those men?"
"I don't know ... " the manager sighed as he sank into a chair. "But there was sure a raft of 'em. Must'a been half a dozen."
"There were four," someone said. "I got a good look at a couple. They work at Rombaugh's."
"Will you call that dad-blamed doctor?" the manager demanded.
"Yeah, Wilbur. Sure. Just take it easy now. Sit right there."
Several persons were standing at the side of Jill's bed, looking down at her. One man said to another, "That's Lou Rombaugh's niece, ain't she?"
"Danged if I know."
"Sure she is. I met her the other day at the cafe when Lou brought her in."
"Was she raped?"
"Most likely," He pursed his lips in a small whistle. "What a build she's got, huh."
"You're not just kidding."
The hotel manager struggled to his feet, still clutching the side of his head. "Get out of here, you men! 'Taint decent to be lookin' at her when she's this way."
"Sure, Wilbur. Sure." They began shuffling toward the door.
"Will somebody get Doc Perkins?" Wilbur wailed as he dropped into the chair again.