And beyond everything else, she’s half your age.”

“Maybe. But she don’t seem to care.”

“Well, go ahead and fornicate with her, then. See if I care.”

We were quiet a few more minutes before I said, “Would you?”

“Would I what?”

“Care if I fornicate with Gentry?”

She started to speak, then paused. Finally she said, “Of course not. I’m practically a married woman. Why should I care what you do or to whom you do it?”

 


 

 

 

17.

 

In warmer months, the mosquitoes along the White River are the most determined you’ll find this side of the Mississippi. So thick and fierce are they, I’ve heard stories of men and dogs bein’ driven crazy while polin’ the river from here to Yellville, Arkansas. Campin’ along the banks of the White would’ve been impossible a month ago, but we were four days from October, and the biggest issue we faced was the frigid water. Phoebe had been standin’ on the river bank, watchin’ the whores yelp and frolic in the water. But somethin’ made her turn and walk back to where I was buildin’ a fire.

“You’re not jumpin’ in?” I asked.

“In due course. Right now the others are having a—a contest.”

“What sort of contest?”

“I’ll not say the word. But it’s the sort of contest you’d be pleased to judge.”

I stood and turned my attention to the creek, wonderin’ what she could possibly be talkin’ about. Then it hit me: the whores were havin’ a nipple contest.

“Sure you don’t want to join in?” I said. “It ain’t the overall size of the bosom, it’s the length of the tips that count.”

“Thank you, no,” she said, her voice full of frost. “But it’s obvious you’re aware of the judging criteria.”

“The what?”

“You’ve obviously done this before.”

“Well, I’ve not been a contestant, if that’s what you mean.”

She closed her eyes, put her hands on each side of her head, and muttered somethin’. Then she went and pulled a bar of soap from her kit and started walkin’ down river.

“Don’t go too far,” I said. “And be sure to finish your bath before it gets dark.”

I pulled a fish hook out of my kit, tied some string to it, then went to the riverbank and turned wood over ’til I found some grub worms. I paused a minute to watch the women. Phoebe was right, I’d had some experience with cold water nipple contests among the whores I’ve brought out west. Funny thing, the winners are never the big-jugged gals like Scarlett. It’s always one of the skinny ones you’d never expect. In this group the clear winner was Leah. But had I been judgin’ on overall appearance, and if Monique was to be excluded, I’d a’ picked Gentry.

I tipped my hat to her, and got a kiss blown back in return.

Headin’ up river fifty yards, I found a quiet pool that had a huge dead tree lyin’ in it. I stepped onto the tree trunk and walked about fifteen feet and sat down. It took about five minutes to land the first perch, and I quickly landed three more. But the next quarter hour went by without a nibble. By then, dusk was settin’ in, so I hopped in the river to clean the caked mud off me, then packed up the perch and headed back to camp.

The women were sittin’ on rocks around the fire, naked under their blankets.