<strong>Day 2 ~ Irene O'Rourke's Room ~ Supper time</strong><br/><br/>Sam lay for a while in the bed smelling her on his hand.  He grinned at how much he liked the scent and taste of her.  He shook his head . . . he was in it bad . . . he knew from his only other experience.  He was fine with it . . . he just hoped that if it came to anything . . . he chuckled at the pun . . . that would be much longer than the previous one.  He rolled over onto his belly and smiled.  He could smell her even in her pillows, though it was obviously another scent.<br/><br/>Feeling a bit sappy and not as tough as his reputation portrayed him, he got himself up and sat on the bed looking at the door she’d left from.  Idly his hand found her wet spot again and savored the scent of her sweet pussy.  Then after gathering himself together he wandered over to the table and tore off a hunk of bread and slathered it with some butter and ate it.<br/><br/>He grinned at himself in the mirror and shook his head as he saw what a mess he was.  He gathered the cloth she’d used and washed his face, chest and pits.  He tossed the cloth in the corner thinking it would be too gross to use it again.  He slipped on his trousers and fastened his belt.  He wandered from the tub room over to the door to the balcony.  He opened the door and stepped out onto the cool tiled floor.  He wondered if Irene spent any time out there as it seemed to be a pleasant spot.  He leaned on the stone railing and surveyed the street below from one end to the other.<br/><br/>His gut was telling him they were near, just as his informant had intimated.  Since he was no longer a Ranger, he only had jurisdiction over matters before the court as detailed in the bulletins in his bags.  The Judge had asked him to review the file since he was coming here anyway.  That was enough to come here to the saloon.  He’d been a Ranger back then but he’d not been involved in the case.  There had been a suspicion among some of his colleagues that the case had not been given the attention it deserved, that there was something going on behind it, and that the  widow was asking for more attention to it and wasn’t getting it for some reason.   Now he was freelancing without a portfolio as the judge had cautioned him as he’d sought his opinion of the case.  He knew that if things went south for him the Judge would have his back.  Finding that Irene was as solid a citizen as he’d found her to be in the files he’d read made him happy.  Finding her to be such a wonderful woman that he was more than fond of . . . well that was an added bonus and an unexpected blessing.  The whole day they’d had so far was never part of anything.  It had been entirely impulsive on his part.  He felt drawn to her some how and God but he liked her . . . he chuckled to himself . . . heck he more than liked her.  He didn’t want anything to screw that up . . . that he couldn’t bare . . . to have hurt her or to lose her in anyway were not outcomes that were acceptable to him . . . and he was always deadly serious about his outcomes.  He gnawed on the bread some.  It was excellent bread and it did tide him over but his growling stomach told him what he already knew . . . he was hungry for more.  He snickered aloud “and that includes more of missus O’Rourke.”<br/><br/>He had a sudden wild curiosity about where she was and walked back into her room and quickly strode across it to the inner door.  After making sure that her door didn’t self-lock he stepped out into the open hallway which overlooked the bar.  He smiled as he saw her working the bar.  He grinned as he wondered if that time might be deducted from his tab as it clearly benefitted the house and not so much him and the time he would be paying for would overlap it.  This would be a good test of Irene’s boss.  They’d never discussed the money and he was happy for that . . . he liked how they were . . . he didn’t want the money to tarnish it any more than it already did.  He didn’t care about the money as he had plenty.  Besides everything he thought or felt about her aside . . . she was worth every cent she was due.  He didn’t care about her job either . . . that wasn’t who she was, it was what she did to earn a livelihood.  He did care that she’d lost her ranch and her husband and had ended up here only for lack of any other way to take care of herself.  He also cared if because of her job that’s only how she saw him . . . as a customer.  When the cook came out of the kitchen waving some implement at Irene, he stifled a chuckle as he wondered what was going on between those two and decided that it was best to duck back into her room.<br/><br/>Once inside he used her brush and tidied up his hair and put his shirt on and tucked it into his trousers.  She’d be dressed when she returned and it would be all right to be civilized and clothed while they ate.  He had designs on her skirt though . . . her blouse too for that matter . . . unless she objected strenuously.  It did look like a nice piece of needle work and it looked great on her.  He didn’t want to soil it if it caused her discomfort so he’d go with her initial reaction to what he wanted.  Sam did admit to himself that of course knowing she was naked under it might have added bias to his opinion some.