A man who rides into town one morning without warning.
Brody James is running from his own past. His ultimate goal is
South America. He claims he stopped to say goodbye to Johnny.
He claims he'll catch the four o'clock train to Galveston. But
where Brody James goes, trouble follows. Before four o'clock,
Johnny and Elizabeth will find their secure world falling into
an uncertain future.
Excerpt
Brody took the heavy lantern from Johnny's loose grip and set
it on the floor. His face was plunged into shadows. "I've
missed you, boy."
"I had to go. Start over again."
"I know. You were right to go. But he had it coming. There's
nothing you could have done about that."
"The judge wouldn't have cared for that argument."
"But we both know it's true."
"We do," Johnny acknowledged. He felt each of Brody's
words. His breath was warm and a little sour from the whiskey.
They were standing chest to chest, toe to toe, and Johnny had
nowhere to go. He'd have to push Brody away if he wanted to
move. "Is that why you're going to South America?"
"Something like that. You know how it is. Things will
catch up with you if you're not paying attention."
"Is somebody chasing you?"
"Nobody fast enough to catch me."
"Do you need help?"
"No, I really did just come here to say goodbye. Talk
about old times."
"Talk?"
"I thought we might get a bit of talking in."
He was even closer now. Johnny didn't like to be crowded, and
he especially didn't like it when Brody crowded him. Especially
since he was so utterly aware that Brody was almost-almost-touching
him. It was a move of domination. Brody wanted him to submit.
Not out of a sense of cruelty. Brody had never been cruel to
him. Johnny wouldn't submit, but he would still make sure they
both got what they wanted. He gripped the back of Brody's neck,
holding him in place for the hard kiss.
Brody responded with a grunt of satisfaction, his thick tongue
pushing between Johnny's lips. Fifteen years fell away, and
he wrapped his arms around Brody out of habit. His mouth was
big and rough, and his whiskers aggravated Johnny's chin. He
smelled like he had been traveling, and he held Johnny with
strong hands. Hands that could break a person. It had been five
years since he had seen Brody, but those years didn't matter.
Because he still knew exactly how to kiss Brody, still knew
how to adjust to a taller partner, a partner who demanded more
than he gave, a partner with broad shoulders and a whipcord
body.
Brody's prick was hard where it pressed against Johnny's hip.
For all Johnny knew, Brody had been hard since the moment he
rode into town. Johnny's body responded in kind, his cock straining
against his pants. His hands moved on his own, sliding down
Brody's back to cup his ass. His fingers flexed, pulling Brody
closer, grinding against his thigh, but that didn't help relieve
the pressure.
"We have to go back up," Johnny said, once he finally
tore his mouth away.
"Like this?"
"It'll be worse if we don't go now."
"What happened to you?"
"I got married."
"You're still holding on."
"Maybe that's the problem." Johnny shoved Brody away
from him.
"No, I don't think so. Not your problem, anyway."
"Come on. You'll feel better after you eat."
"I feel fine now."
Johnny didn't. He picked up the lantern, and resolutely moved
towards the stairs. He heard Brody behind him, his boots shuffling
against the dirt floor-at least Brody was following him instead
of daring Johnny to drag him out.
"Hey, Johnny?"
"What?"
Brody grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. Their mouths
clashed once again, like it was already a foregone conclusion.
Brody's other hand went to Johnny's wrist, gripping it so hard
that he dropped the lantern. It clattered to the ground and
rolled away. Johnny was dimly aware of the shadows moving in
around them. Brody pushed him back until he felt the steps pressing
to his calves.