The Breeder

a novel

 

© 2020 by S.W. Blayde

All Rights Reserved

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

BOOKS by S.W. Blayde

Sexual Awakening – click title or search for "B00L1VHIZC" on Amazon

Steele Justice – click title or search for "B078VQXHNJ" on Amazon

High School Massacre – click title or search for "B07XGBLDM9" on Amazon

Death of a Hero – click title or search for "B07NZFB386" on Amazon

 

Foreword

I didn't set out to write a Western novel, not that this is the typical Cowboys and Indians or Cattlemen vs Sheepherders Western. I simply needed the story to take place prior to the advent of artificial insemination so I chose the late 1800s. And being more familiar with the Old West than other parts of the world at that time (thank you, Hollywood), the setting turned out to be the Old West. The Irish land wars in the late 1870s to early 1880s then established the year of the story to be 1882.

I'm a novelist, not a historian. I gathered information by searching the internet, such as women's undergarments. One thing I learned was that women at that time wore pantaloons under their clothing. They were of varying lengths and the crotch was open for hygiene reasons. Basically, so they could squat and pee without removing clothing. I attempted to be true to the time period, but this is not non-fiction. I take liberties with the sexuality of the men and women at the time. Whether it's true or not is not important. Call it poetic license to make the story interesting (something else I learned from Hollywood). Then again, maybe that's the way our horny ancestors behaved.

 

Chapter 1

Pete Wheelson bounced on the worn leather saddle, holding his spirited black stallion to a slow trot. The last leg of the dirt trail from his horse ranch was carved through a patch of Palo Verde and Mesquite trees sitting on high ground. A rushing river, the town's lifeline, could be heard gushing downhill from melting mountain snow. The four-year-old horse was prone to gallop, so Pete had to keep reminding Midnight to keep the gait slow. It worked until they emerged from the trees onto the ridge overlooking Lonesome Flats, a clump of buildings in the middle of nowhere. The horse bolted.

Pete yanked the reins. "Whoa, boy."

Leaning forward, Pete patted the side of the horse's long neck. "I'm hankering to get there as much as you, but let's keep the dust down. This cowboy needs to look his best today."

Midnight whinnied while nodding. Being his only companion for so much of the time, Pete spoke to Midnight often, convinced the animal understood him.

With the big red sun low on the horizon behind him, Pete guided his horse down the slope to Amanda Quill's little house on the fringe of town, next to the one-room schoolhouse where she taught. Lately, Pete had been going to Amanda's house so often that Midnight would have found the way with Pete sound asleep on its back.

Pete slapped a hand over the revolver in his holster as he swung his right leg over the saddle's horn. He slid down the horse's left side and looped the reins around the metal ring fastened to the wooden post in front of Amanda's house. Pete left enough slack for the horse to dip its muzzle into the watering trough. After the dusty ride from the ranch, Midnight dived right in. Pete bent over next to the big black horse and, with a cupped hand, splashed water on his own face. His sleeve was his towel.

Pete strolled up to the front door and knocked. He took a step back to inspect the brown door. It needs a bit of painting, he thought. A smile spread over his face. But hopefully that'll be someone else's problem. Me and Amanda—"

The door swung open.

The scowl on Amanda's face wiped Pete's smile away. His hand was stuffed inside his left front pocket, his fingers nervously twirling the clump of fabric. He yanked his empty hand out.

Amanda crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes like she did when scolding a student. "Where have you been?"

Her long-sleeved brown dress flowed to her ankles. All the buttons were fastened, from the hem to the white collar. Her wavy blonde hair, tied in a bun when teaching, hung midway down her back.

"At the ranch," Pete said. "Where do you think I was?"

"I mean why haven't you visited?"

"Been busy."

Amanda's eyes narrowed. "Too busy for me?"

"One of the mares needed me," Pete said. "She birthed a foal yesterday. I couldn't leave her."

Amanda unraveled her arms and flung herself onto Pete, wrapping her arms around him, pressing the side of her face on his chest. "I'm sorry. I was being foolish."

Pete stroked her back. Even through the thick fabric and layers of clothing he knew she wasn't wearing a corset. Not that she needed one to reshape her figure or push up her breasts. He pulled her to him knowing it would crush her small tits and sensitive nipples against him.

Midnight stomped its foot with a snort. Pete and Amanda broke their embrace and turned toward the horse. The black stallion nodded three times and neighed.

"I think he's asking you to invite me in," Pete said.

Amanda giggled. Latching onto Pete's wrist, she dragged him into her house and kicked the door closed. Her blue eyes twinkled. "Was it Midnight who impregnated the mare?"

"Yep."

"Then he knows what I want."

Amanda grabbed the back of Pete's head and pulled his mouth down to hers. She flattened his lips against his teeth and curled her fingers in his hair, knocking his Stetson forward. It fell to the side, bounced off his shoulder, and toppled to the wood floor.

Pete jerked away. "Hold on. I have something to ask you."

"It can wait. It's been too long. I need you."

Once again, Amanda smashed her lips to his. One hand went behind his head and the other between his legs, palm up, cupping his groin and squeezing his dick.

It had been a long time.

Pete reached around Amanda and clawed at the lower portion of her dress, alternating hands like one would pull up a rope to lift a bucket of water from a well. When the bottom of the long dress was gathered at her waist, he held it there with his left hand while grabbing her petticoat with his right. The thinner material was easier to gather up in his single fist than the thick dress. When the petticoat was also at her waist, he passed it to the hand holding the dress up. All the while, Amanda tore at the buttons on the fly of his trousers and shoved a hand inside the opening. She squeezed his dick over the Union suit he wore underneath his clothes.

Pete's free hand cupped her soft buttock over the pantaloons. Bending his knees, he stretched his arm more until he found the split at the crotch. Not having sisters, Pete had been surprised the first time he got his hands under a woman's petticoat and discovered the two halves weren't sown together. He had simply been told, "That's how they're made," and one prostitute admitted, "It does come in handy when we pee." His fingers tangled in curly hairs on the way to the slit. Amanda wasn't kidding. She was wet down there. His finger sank into her.

Amanda pulled her mouth off Pete's and flung her head back. Her eyes were closed. Her mouth open.

"Oh god!" she said and snapped her thighs together, trapping Pete's hand. "I need more than your finger inside me."

Pete yanked his hand from between her legs and scooped Amanda up in his arms. The front room in the two-room house had a large stone fireplace, a wood-burning stove, a table and wooden chairs for eating, and two leather chairs near the fireplace. He rushed to the back room which had a small fireplace, bed, dresser with mirror, and chair. He dropped her onto the bed.

"Get undressed," Pete said as he undid his gun holster and draped it on the back of the chair.

"That takes too long! Hurry up and do it to me."

Amanda frantically gathered up her dress and petticoat until they were bunched atop her belly and chest. Pete could barely see Amanda's face hidden by the folds of clothing. He was about to tell her that it would be better naked when she flung her legs open. Her blonde pussy and pink gash were framed by the split crotch of the knee-length pantaloons.

Pete finished unbuttoning his trousers and let them fall to his boots. He then undid the buttons in the groin area of his Union suit and pulled his semi-hard dick out of the opening, spit on his hand, and fisted his dick. It was soon ready.

Amanda pancaked the bunched-up clothing by slapping both hands on it. She pressed her chin into her chest as she lifted her head to see over the clothing. "What are you waiting for? Hurry! I need you."

With his trousers tangled around his boots and his hard dick sticking out of the Union suit, Pete shuffled forward. A slight bend of his knees brought his dick to the right height. He guided it to her pussy. As soon as the tip wedged into the hole, Amanda's head fell back and her legs flew into the air and spread into a wide vee. Pete rammed his cock into her. Amanda clamped her legs around his waist and humped.

"Oh god, I love you," Amanda said.

Pete stopped his back stroke midway and stared at Amanda's flushed face. "Do you really mean that?"

"God yes! Don't stop!"

Amanda's vagina muscles urged Pete on by squeezing his dick. He leaned forward to give her a kiss, flattening her bunched-up clothing under his body. Her eyes were closed. Her open mouth was panting like a dog. And all he had done was enter her. It usually took a good pussy licking to get her that aroused.

With his eyes locked on Amanda's face, Pete slid most of his cock out of her clinging pussy. Amanda sucked in a lungful of air. He rammed back into her. The air burst from her open mouth. He pulled out and thrust back in. Amanda's face reddened, from her forehead all the way to the white collar of the fully buttoned dress. Her mouth remained open. It reminded him of a fish out of water gulping air.

Pete's big metal belt buckle clanged on the wood floor each time he thrust into her. The noise mingled with the bed squeaks and Amanda's gasps, soon joined by Pete's grunts. He sped up and rammed into her harder.

Amanda's legs tightened around his body. Her humping stopped. Her mouth hung open. And then he felt the familiar clenching of her pussy around his dick. Her hips jerked. Two short humps, a pause, and then fast ones. Amanda's closed eyes clamped tighter. A moan escaped from deep within her throat. And then, with her legs locked around Pete holding her off the mattress, she thrust up. A squeal came out of her mouth as the tendons on her neck and temples bulged. Her face turned a darker shade of red.

Amanda's legs held on tight as she shook and jerked. When the orgasm ended, her body went limp and her legs dropped. First her buttocks landed on the mattress, then her thighs, and finally her heels slammed the floor on both sides of Pete. He stared at her face. Her mouth finally closed and she didn't look like she was in pain any longer. Her face was now sweet and innocent. She had said she loved him. He would spend his entire life pleasuring her. But now it was his turn.

With his hands flat on the mattress on both sides of Amanda and his arms straight, Pete fucked her hard. In and out. Long strokes. At first. Then quick, short ones. The tingling in his loins urged him to fuck harder. Ram in all the way. But he pulled out.

Supporting his weight on one straight arm, Pete yanked his shirt up with his free hand and dropped on top of Amanda, his chest smothering her face. The underside of his throbbing cock was squished on the tuft of blonde pubic hair, the tip resting on the pantaloons where they were joined at her tummy. His balls lay on top of her slit. Pete humped her pubic bone three times before shooting his semen between their bodies, soiling both her pantaloons and his Union suit.

Pete rolled off Amanda and collapsed onto his back next to her, with his feet still on the floor. His breathing was heavy. She stirred first and shifted onto her side, pulling her knees up so that she was completely on the bed now.

Amanda smiled at Pete and brushed some loose hairs off his forehead. "That was wonderful."

Pete lifted his head, but it fell back down. He stared up at the wood beams on the ceiling, at the water stain where he had once fixed her leaky roof. "What got into you?"

"I don't know," Amanda said, "I missed you."

Pete forced himself up onto his forearms, dug his chin into his chest, and stared at the smeared semen on his Union suit. "I guess I'll be needing to be washing these." His head dropped back onto the mattress.

"I can wash them for you."

"They won't dry."

"Spend the night."

"Need to get back to the mare and foal. They need taking care of."

"But I hardly ever see you. The ranch is so far away."

Pete sprang up. The suddenness of the movement caused Amanda to screech and roll away from him. He reached for his trousers tangled around his boots and fished inside the left pocket. His hand came out with the folded fabric. Cradling it in his two hands, he turned toward Amanda.

"That's what I wanted to ask you," Pete said.

Amanda gawked, wide-eyed. "What's gotten into you?"

Pete unraveled the material. Amanda stared at his fingers. "What's that?"

Amanda gasped when she saw the red ruby ring lying atop the fabric.

"It was my mother's," Pete said. "Amanda, will you marry me?"

"Marry you?"

"Yes. We'll live on the ranch and always be together."

"Marry you?"

"Stop repeating that. You said you loved me. I'm asking you to be my wife and live with me on the ranch."

"I can't marry you."

"Why not?"

Amanda's eyes dropped. In a soft voice, she said, "There's someone else."

 

Chapter 2

Pete Wheelson stood at the bar in the Silver Moon Saloon, staring at the glass of whiskey in his hand through blurry, watery eyes. Amanda had said there was someone else. She was cheating on him. How could that be? Just a short while ago she had said she loved him. They were to be married and live on the ranch. That's what he wanted. That's what he had thought she wanted. He downed his drink and tapped the empty glass on the bar counter.

"Another," Pete said.

"You sure?" the bartender asked, holding the bottle in the air.

Max was a burly man with a scruffy red beard the color of a carrot. His narrow, piercing blue eyes scrutinized Pete.

Pete tapped the glass again. "Another."

"You're gulping them down like the town drunk. Five shots in five minutes. What the hell's gotten into you? I never knew you to drink so much."

Pete looked around the saloon and shouted, "Can't a guy get a drink around here?"

Everyone in the saloon stopped what they were doing to look his way. The young boy sweeping the floor, four men playing poker at a round table, and the saloon girl leaning against the railing that led to the second level where the bedrooms were.

"Stop your shouting," the bartender said.

Max filled Pete's glass. Pete brought it to his lips, tilted his head back, and guzzled the burning whiskey down. Losing his balance, he slapped the counter to steady himself. The glass slipped from his grasp and rolled away. Max caught it.

The saloon girl sashayed over to Pete. Isabelle's red ruffled dress with glimmering sequins on the top shamefully stopped just below her knees. The flared-out bottom swooshed with her strides and a forced rocking of her hips. The light pink petticoat beneath the red dress stuck out past the hemline and came to mid-calf. Nothing like showing a bit of undergarments and ankles to turn on a lonely cowboy. And skin. Her shoulders and arms were bare and the tops of her breasts spilled over the low-cut bodice.

Isabelle placed a hand on Pete's shoulder. "Want some company, cowboy?" she asked with a heavy French accent.

Through foggy eyes, Pete stared at the red rouge on her powdered white face. He dug the ruby ring out of his pocket.

"Belle, you're a woman," Pete slurred.

"It's about time you noticed."

Pete held the ring up to her. "Do you like this ring?"

The woman's eyes bulged. "I love it. You giving it to me?"

"It was my mother's."

Isabelle moved closer to Pete and dropped her right hand to his thigh next to the leather holster as she squashed her left breast against his arm. "It's beautiful. Mon chéri, let's go to a room. We can make a trade." Her hand slid up the inside of his thigh onto his groin and squeezed his dick.

"You'd marry me, wouldn't you?"

Isabelle stepped back with her jaw hanging. "You wanna get hitched? Sure. I'll make you a good wife. I'll do things to you that you never heard of. Things I learned in France. C'mon, let's go to a room and I'll show you. You won't be sorry."

The bartender leaned over the counter. "He don't know what he's saying. He's drunk."

"Max, stay out of it. It's between me and him."

Isabelle pulled Pete's hand to the exposed breast-flesh above the bodice. The ring slipped from his fingers. He dropped to his hands and knees and bumped the ring around several times before snagging it between two fingers. Isabelle bent forward and lifted the bottom of her petticoat. She flung it over Pete.

The sudden darkness confused Pete so he drunkenly tried to stand. Isabelle wasn't wearing anything underneath the petticoat so his face bumped into a hairy snatch with a dank odor. He dropped back down onto his butt.

Sitting in the darkness under Isabelle's clothes, Pete heard a woman say, "Pete Wheelson's horse is tied up outside. Is he here?"

"Miss Amanda, you shouldn't be in here," the bartender said.

Amanda? His Amanda?

In a drunken haze, Pete pushed and clawed at the petticoat draped around him like an animal entangled in a net. He saw a sliver of light and rolled out from under the saloon girl's clothes. Confused, dizzy, sprawled out on his back, Pete looked around until he saw the two batwing doors at the entrance to the saloon. Amanda, still wearing the long-sleeved brown dress with white collar, was holding the right door she had pushed inward. One foot was inside the saloon. Her free hand flew to her open mouth and she shrieked when she saw Pete roll out from under the whore's clothes. Amanda spun around and fled.

Pete stared at the swinging door until it stopped and then attempted to stand. The room spun. He dropped back to the floor clutching the ruby ring in a death grip.

The saloon girl stooped next to him. "Forget her. She don't know nothing about pleasing a man. Let's get a room. I'll show you."

"I need to go," Pete said. "She's mad. I need to talk to her." He slapped the top of his head. "Where's my hat?"

The saloon girl stood and lifted the front of her petticoat and dress to her knees. Pete's Stetson lay upside down between her parted feet. He grabbed the hat and slapped it onto his head. Backward.

Pete tried to stand. The room spun. He reached out and latched onto Isabelle's dress with both hands and fell backward, dragging her down on top of him.

"Now this is more like it, mon chéri," Isabelle said and ground her groin into his.

Lying on top of Pete with her legs spread on both sides of him, the saloon girl crushed her lips to Pete's. He lay unmoving as she shoved her tongue against his lips and teeth. Pete wrapped his arms around Isabelle and rolled her onto her back. He ended up on top of her.

"Hey, get a room," one of the card players shouted.

The saloon girl giggled. "That's what I'm trying to get him to do."

Lying on her back, Isabelle's legs flew into the air on both sides of Pete. Her dress slid down her legs. She locked her legs around Pete's waist and pulled down as she thrust her pelvis up. Isabelle smiled at the boy standing with the broom. He was staring at the back of her exposed thighs.

Isabelle nibbled Pete's ear and whispered, "C'mon, mon chéri, my cunt needs your pecker in it. Take me upstairs."

Pete cupped a hand on his head. "Where's my hat?"

"Shit! What's with your fucking hat! The damn thing is right next to you. Forget your hat and take me upstairs." Isabelle lowered her voice and said, "I'll be good to you," before whispering, "Want to stick your dick in my ass? I'm real tight back there."

Pete pried Isabelle's legs off his body. Not an easy task in his condition. And her legs were unusually strong. But he finally wrested them apart and stood up, leaving Isabelle lying on her back. Her clothes were at her waist and the boy with the broom was staring at the thicket of dark curly hair.

Isabelle shoved her dress down. It only made it to mid-thigh but covered her privates. "Johnny," she said to the boy, "you finally got to see my cunt."

A man at the card table said, "Who hasn't?"

Isabelle glared at the man. "Shut up or you'll never see it again."

Isabelle snatched Pete's hat off the floor as she stood up. She waved it at him. "Come get it."

Pete gawked at the Stetson. He placed his hand on top of his bare head. That was his Stetson. He reached for it. Isabelle took a step backward. Pete stumbled forward. She kept waving the hat as she backed up toward the stairs. With his arm straight out in front of him and his fingers grasping nothing but air, Pete followed like one of the Pied Piper's rats.

Isabelle took one step at a time as she ascended the stairs backward. Pete blindly followed, all the while snatching air as he grabbed for the hat. Always coming up with an empty fist. At the top of the stairs, the saloon girl backed into one of the rooms. The room was small with a bed large enough for two people to sleep in. Not that many people slept in them. Soon Isabelle was standing at the side of the bed with Pete still staring at his hat.

"You want your stupid hat?" she asked. "Here!"

Isabelle slammed it on Pete's head and then lifted the back of her clothes and jumped backward. She bounced on the mattress on her naked butt. The saloon girl then flung the front of her dress and petticoat up to her chin and grabbed her legs behind the knees, pulling them back and outward. Pete stared between her spread legs. At the mass of hair with the red gash. And the almost purple inner lips hanging out. They were thin and wavy. Below them, her puckered asshole.

"You can stick it in any hole you want," Isabelle said. "My cunt and ass are all yours."

Isabelle released her legs and sprang up so that she was sitting. Her legs were spread with her knees pointing outward. She pressed her bunched-up clothes against her chest with one forearm, keeping her hairy groin on display, and held her other hand out like a beggar. Palm up.

"But first you got to give me the ring," she said. "Then you can fuck my ass or cunt."

In a drunken haze, Pete stared at the patch of hair and chubby thighs. He tightened his fist around the ruby ring and stuffed it into his pocket.

"It's for Amanda," Pete said.

He spun around and headed for the door, zigzagging and stumbling in the spinning room. Isabelle leaped off the bed and ran after him, screaming for him to stop. She grabbed his shoulder. He shrugged her hand off and almost fell. She latched onto his forearm. He kept walking, dragging her with him out of the room. At the top of the stairs, he yanked his arm from her grasp. Pete lost his balance and toppled down the stairs.

At the bottom, Pete lay sprawled out with a sharp pain in his hip. The boy let go of the broom. It rattled on the wood floor as he rushed over to Pete and shook him. Pete opened his eyes. The boy helped Pete to his feet and then picked up the Stetson and handed it to him. Pete put it on. Then the boy saw the six-shooter on the fourth step from the bottom. It had fallen from Pete's holster. Never handling a pistol before, the boy picked it up by the handle, using only his fingertips, and dropped the Colt into Pete's leather holster.

The saloon girl stood at the top of the stairs with her hands on her hips and glowered down at Pete. Her lips formed a tight line.

Pete staggered out of the saloon and looked up and down the street. Midnight neighed and stomped its hoof. Pete turned toward the animal and stared through blurry eyes. That's my horse.

Pete yanked on the reins. They came undone from the wood railing. He tried to put his foot in the stirrup. It slipped out. He tried again and a third time. The fourth time worked so he held onto the saddle horn as he hoisted himself up. He leaned over the horn and swung his right leg over Midnight's rump. His right foot slipped into the stirrup.

"Okay, boy, you know where to go."

Pete slumped forward and closed his eyes. The rocking of the horse was peaceful. He passed out.

 

Chapter 3

Pete's head ached. His brain pounded inside his skull. Ready to explode. And a bug was walking on his face. Without opening his eyes, he swatted it away. It was huge. No bug was that big.

Pete opened his eyes. Snapped them shut when the sun burned a hole through them. But he had seen something. He squinted his eyes open. It was a wet washcloth attached to a hand attached to an arm attached to Amanda.

His head pounded again so he closed his eyes. With them shut, he used his hands to feel around him. Patting dirt. He was lying on the ground. And then he heard a familiar neigh.

Pete opened his eyes into tiny slits. The light wasn't as bad now so he opened them a little more. He saw the underbelly of a horse. A stirrup. He tilted his head back. Midnight was staring down at him with its big brown eyes. The reins hanging from the bridle. Midnight nodded and neighed again.

"What happened to you?" Amanda asked.

Pete turned the other way and looked up at her face hovering over his. A concerned face. An angel looking down on him.

"What am I doing here?" Pete asked.

"I have no idea. When I came out this morning I found you lying here. I thought you were dead. Are you hurt?"

Pete kicked his legs and then wiggled his arms. "No."

He tried to get up. The throbbing in his head caused him to fall back down. His hand flew to his forehead and covered his eyes.

"My head hurts," Pete said through a parched mouth.

Pete removed his hand from his eyes. Amanda was kneeling next to him wearing a light green dress. Her hair was pulled back in a bun.

"Too much to drink?" she asked, sarcastically.

Pete didn't like the tone of her voice. He knew she wasn't expecting an answer. "Drink?" he said. Pete tried to get the fuzziness out of his brain. His eyes opened wide. "Oh yeah. I guess so."

Amanda scowled down at him. "Too much anything else?"

"Anything else?"

"Last night. Before Midnight brought you here."

"Last night?"

"Stop answering my questions with questions. I saw you in the saloon. How could you cheat on me?"

"Cheat on you?"

"For God's sake, stop doing that!"

"I didn't cheat on you."

"Don't lie to me, Pete Wheelson. I can put up with a lot, but I won't stand for lying."

"I'm not lying."

"I saw you with that whore."

Pete struggled to think back. His head throbbed. "Do you mean Belle?"

"I don't know the saloon girl's name."

"She was talking to me. I don't remember all of it. I asked her why you wouldn't marry me."

"What! Why would you ask her that?"

"She's a woman. I thought she'd know."

"Looked like you were doing more than just talking."

Pete covered his face with both hands. With his eyes clamped shut, he tried to think back to the night before. His hands slid off his face and he stared up at Amanda.

"It's all fuzzy," he said. "I remember showing her my mother's ring. It fell and I had a hard time finding it. I think it was under Belle's clothes." Pete shook his head and then his eyes opened wide. "Yeah, that's when I heard your voice. But then you ran away."

"And then what did you do?"

"Do? Nothing. I got on Midnight and went back to the ranch. At least that's what I thought I did. I don't know how I got here. I guess I passed out and Midnight took me here."

"And you didn't go upstairs with that whore?"

Pete thought hard. It was like looking through a fog at his memory. "I went upstairs to get my hat."

Amanda crossed her arms. "What was your hat doing upstairs?"

"Belle had it."

"So you did go upstairs with her!"

"To get my hat."

Pete sat up. His forehead almost hit Amanda's chin, but she jerked her head away just in time. Everything was spinning. He lowered his head and covered his face in his hands. The throbbing continued. When the dizziness subsided, he looked at Amanda.

"I don’t remember," Pete said. "She had my hat. I went upstairs to get it. She wanted me to stay but I didn't. And then I fell down the stairs."

"Why should I believe that you didn't do anything with her?"

"Because I love you." Pete hung his head. "But you don't love me."

Amanda gasped. Her hand flew to her open mouth. "Why did you say that?"

"Because you told me there's another man."

Amanda remained silent for a minute. A minute that seemed like a dozen minutes to Pete. A lifetime. Then she said, "Pete, there isn't another man. You're the only man for me."

"You said there was. That's why you won't marry me."

There was more silence. Amanda chewed her bottom lip. "It's not a man. I said I won't marry you because I didn't think you'd understand and I didn't want to hurt you."

"I don't understand. My head is hurting and I'm confused. What are you talking about?"

Amanda clasped her hands and squeezed them. Her fingers turned white. "Pete, I do love you, but—"

Pete waited. Amanda was staring at her hands. Her fingers turned even whiter as she clenched them.

"If you hate me," Amanda said, "I'll understand. I do love you with all my heart so I owe it to you to tell you. If you never want to see me again I'll understand. You see, the other person is not a man. It's a woman."

Pete rubbed his eyes. "Why would you having a girlfriend bother me? I have friends, too. What's that have to do with us getting married?"

"Pete, she's more than that kind of friend. We, um, we are very close. We get intimate."

Pete bounced backward on his butt, putting distance between the two. Each bounce sent a jolt of pain to his head. He gawked at Amanda. "You're a lesbian?"

"After yesterday, how can you ask me that?"

"Oh, I misunderstood when you said you were intimate with a woman."

"You didn't misunderstand. I love you and want to be with you that way, but I also want to be with her that way. So I don't think it's fair to marry you. But I don't want to lose you either."

"Do you love her?"

Amanda jumped to her feet, rushed over to Pete, and dropped onto her knees. She cupped his face in her hands and stared into his eyes. "No, I only love you."

She pressed her lips to his. Pete didn't respond so she pulled back. Tears formed in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She still held Pete's face in her hands.

"Only you," Amanda said, "I swear."

"But you made love to her."

"I had sex with her. That's not love. Do you think men who have sex with the saloon girls love them?"

"She's not a saloon girl." Pete's eyes widened. "Wait! Is she?"

"Of course not!"

"So if you're not in love with her, what do you call it?"

Amanda sat back on her heels with her hands on her thighs. She looked down. Pete waited. She looked back up.

"I guess I'm in lust with her."

"Who is she?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why not? Are we going to have secrets?"

"I don't think it's fair to her. If word gets out she's a lesbian it will be hard on her. She'll be ruined."

"Does she love you?"

Amanda lowered her eyes and said softly, "I don't know. Maybe."

"Does she know you have a boyfriend?"

Her eyes shot up. "Of course. Everyone knows we are together."

"Does she know we have sex?"

Amanda nodded.

"And?"

"I think she's jealous, but she accepts it."

"So you're asking me to share you with her."

With her eyes lowered, Amanda nodded again. She looked up. "That's why I can't marry you."

"Because she'll be mad?"

"No. Because it's not fair to you to, um, share me."

"What if I ask you to choose?"

Amanda's hand flew to her open mouth. She sucked in air three times without releasing it. Her chest expanded each time. And then the air came out in a long stream. She sniffled. The tears flowed again. Long lines down her cheeks, dripping off her jaw.

"Please don't," Amanda said.

Pete clambered to his feet. The pounding in his head had turned into a bad headache. Amanda looked up at him. The tears continued to flow.

"You need to get to the school," Pete said, "and I need to get back to the ranch."

Amanda jumped to her feet. "Oh god! You're leaving me!"

"I'll be back. Then we'll talk about it. I need to think about it and right now my head hurts. Go to the school. The children must be waiting."

Amanda closed the gap and crushed her lips to Pete's, holding the back of his head, pulling his mouth against hers. He hesitated before thrusting his tongue into her mouth. She kissed him passionately. Her other hand gripped the back of his shirt in a tight fist.

Pete pulled away. "Go to the school."

He looked around, spotted his Stetson lying upside down on the ground where he had fallen off Midnight, scooped it up, and put it on his head. He checked to make sure his Colt was in the holster and then placed a foot in the stirrup and mounted his horse. Sitting in the saddle, Pete looked down at Amanda.

"Go, the children are waiting," he said.

"But what about us?"

"We'll talk about it later."

Pete yanked the reins to the side. Midnight's head twisted away from where Amanda was standing. Pete dug his heels into the horse's sides and Midnight bolted in a cloud of dust. Pete didn't look back.

 

Chapter 4

Midnight trotted up to Amanda's house with Pete jumping off the horse before it stopped, pulling on the reins as he ran alongside the stallion. Pete looped the reins around the metal ring on the post and marched to the front door. With his fist raised to knock, the door swung inward. Amanda stood just inside the house. She wore the same light green dress from the morning, but her hair now flowed down her back.

"You came," Amanda said. It almost sounded like a question.

"I told you I would."

Amanda stepped to the side. Pete entered her house. A plate was on the kitchen table with a partially eaten steak and beans on it, and a mug next to the plate.

"I didn't mean to disturb your dinner," Pete said. "I thought you'd be done by now."

"I am."

"Doesn't look like it."

"I wasn't hungry."

The two stood without talking, both staring at their feet with an occasional glance at the other. Amanda wrung her hands hanging in front of her. Pete's were stuffed inside his pockets as he shuffled his feet.

"You must hate me," Amanda said.

Pete's head shot up. Amanda's eyes were puffy and red. "I don't hate you."

"But you stormed off before we finished talking."

"I told you I would come back. The ranch needed tending to."

"Is that why you left so fast?"

Pete looked down and kicked the floor with the toe of his boot. "That's part of it."

"So you do hate me."

Pete looked up to see Amanda watching him through watery eyes. He lifted his hand and reached for her face. She flinched and jerked her head back, but he placed his hand on her cheek. She mewled and tilted her head into it.

"I don't hate you," Pete said. "I told you I loved you and I meant it."

"But you don't want to marry me now."

"You said you didn't want to marry me."

"I mean… if I wanted to, you wouldn't want to."

"Do you want to?" Pete asked.

"More than anything, but…"

Amanda's eyes darted away from Pete's. He waited. Then he placed his free hand on her other cheek, sandwiching her face between his hands. Her eyes rose to look into his. The two stared into each other's eyes without saying anything, and then a tear rolled down Amanda's left cheek. Pete wiped it away with his thumb. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

Amanda moaned. Her hands flew around him and gripped the back of his shirt. Her lips parted. Pete accepted the invitation and thrust his tongue into her mouth. It glided along the side of her tongue and then over the top. She moaned into his mouth.

Pete pulled away. "Amanda, I do love you, but I need you to help me understand what's going on with… with the woman. I need to know why."

Amanda's bottom lip quivered. "I don't know why. It just happened and I need it."

"So I'm not satisfying you."

"Oh no! You are great! I couldn't ask for anything more."

"But you say you need more. So that means I'm not enough."

"It's not that. It just happened."

"How did it happen? Tell me how it happened."

Amanda's hand flew to her open mouth. "Oh lord, I don't know if I can tell you that."

Pete scowled. "More secrets?"

"No, it's not that. It's just embarrassing to talk about it with you."

"You're ashamed of it?"

"Oh no! It's just so… intimate. What if you don't understand?"

"Try me."

Amanda's eyes dropped and then popped back up. "I can't tell you who she is."

"Okay. But everything else. If I'm going to marry you, I need to understand."

Amanda's eyes opened wide and her jaw dropped. "You still want to marry me? You'll accept the other thing."

"Well, tell me about it. Help me understand. How did it happen?"

Amanda scraped her foot on the floor before looking back up. "How much detail?"

Pete looked away and then his eyes settled on Amanda's face. "Tell me all of it. I need to know. To understand."

Amanda's cheeks flushed as she studied Pete. "I'll try. No more secrets. Pete, please sit down."

Amanda motioned at one of the big leather chairs in front of the fireplace that her father had left her. The brown leather was worn and cracked, but they were her prize possession. The only thing left to remember her parents by. Pete placed his Stetson on the small wood table between the two chairs and sat on the front edge of the closest one with his forearms on his knees and his hands clasped in front of him, leaning forward. He waited. Amanda paced back and forth in front of him, sometimes looking at Pete but mostly at the floor.

Amanda stopped pacing and faced Pete. "I'm going to tell you this because I love you and I don't want secrets between us."

Pete shifted back in the cushy chair, getting more comfortable while giving her the time she needed.

Amanda chewed her bottom lip and squeezed the sides of her dress. Her eyes never left Pete's. They looked so pained he almost told her not to tell him. Almost. He needed to know. Even though it upset him to see the woman he loved so distressed, the hankering to understand was more potent. Her voice began soft, but got stronger as she told him what had happened. Pete listened to every word.

***

It had begun when Amanda sent one of her students home for starting a fight and told the boy he couldn't return to school until his mother came to speak to her. The woman arrived at the school after it let out that afternoon. As Amanda relayed the story to Pete, that's how she referred to the two to protect her lover's identity. The woman and the boy.

Amanda had been writing on the blackboard with her back to the door preparing the next day's lesson. She had finished some simple math problems for the younger students, addition and subtraction, and had been writing multiplication and division problems for the older children with the now small piece of chalk. When she wrote a seven, her fingernail scraped the slate making that irritating screeching sound that caused the hairs on the back of one's neck to stand. She heard a shriek behind her.

Amanda whirled around to see a woman pressing her hands against her ears with her elbows pointing outward. Amanda put the little piece of chalk down and slapped her palms against each other to clap the white chalk dust off.

"I've learned to live with that sound," Amanda said. "Don't be embarrassed, the children hate it too." Her mouth formed a crooked smile. "Sometimes I do it on purpose to get their attention."

It was the mother of the boy sent home for starting the fight. Amanda had hoped she would come. The boy was a good student, although lately he wasn't paying attention at times and got into fights. Today's fistfight gave another boy a bloody nose so Amanda had been compelled to do something about it.

"How long have you been standing there?" Amanda asked.

The woman lowered her eyes and blushed. Not a reaction Amanda had expected. She looked back up. "Oh, not that long. I was just watching you work. You write as beautiful as you look."

It was Amanda's turn to blush. Her eyelashes fluttered. She couldn't stop them.

"I'm here because you expelled my son," the woman said.

"I didn’t expel him. I want him back in class. I just need him to change and that's what I want to discuss with you. Please take a seat in the rear where the older children sit. You'll be more comfortable."

After the woman sat on one of the larger chairs, Amanda hoisted herself onto the front of her desk. Her dress rode up showing her ankles and part of her shins. She noticed the woman's eyes were focused there and thought she was showing her displeasure for the scandalous exhibit and was about to jump off the desk when the woman looked up and spoke.

"Those are lovely shoes," the woman said. "Where did you get them?"

Amanda straightened her right leg to raise her foot. "Oh, a friend from back east sent them to me."

"They're lovely. They look great on you."

Amanda stared at her shoe, pointing the toe forward and twisting it right and left. "Thank you." She let her foot drop back down. "Do you know why I wanted to see you?"

"You expelled my son. He didn't say why."

"He was in a fight. And he started it."

The woman's hand flew to her open mouth. "Oh my dear lord! He didn't tell me that! I thought it was school related, like he was having trouble with his ABCs."

"Oh no. He's one of my better students. Well, he used to be. Lately his work has slacked off. But I sent him home because he gave another boy a bloody nose."

"Dear lord! Is the other boy all right?"

"He's fine. But I'm afraid if something isn't done it will happen again."

With her elbows planted on the desk, the woman lowered her face into her cupped hands and did something Amanda hadn't expected. She cried. Amanda jumped off the desk and rushed to her side. She stooped and placed an arm around the woman's shoulders. The woman tilted her head into Amanda, pressing her cheek against her breast. Amanda told Pete that at the time she had thought nothing of it. But when the woman stopped sobbing and pushed the side of her face into Amanda's breast, that made Amanda uncomfortable so she stood up.

The woman looked up. Her eyes stopped at Amanda's breasts before continuing to her face. She looked so lost, like a little kitten. The woman let out a deep sigh.

"I will talk to him," the woman said. "You see, he, um, we… I'll talk to him. I promise. Can he please come back to school tomorrow?"

***

Amanda was pacing while telling Pete what had happened. She paused and stared at Pete.

"Pete, there were so many signs that I missed. They're easy to see now, but back then I was worried about the boy and didn't see them."

Pete leaned forward. "I didn't expect the woman to be married and have a son. I thought she was a lesbian."

"It's more complicated than that. Maybe that's why I missed the signs."

"Did you let the boy back in school?" Pete asked.

"Yes, of course."

Pete leaned back in the chair and rubbed his chin. "But that wasn't the end of it, was it?"

Amanda's eyes dropped. "No. Only the beginning."

"So tell me the rest."

Amanda nodded and continued telling Pete what had happened.

***

The boy had returned to school the next day and everything seemed to be back to normal. But one evening about a week later, Amanda had finished cleaning up after dinner when she heard a knock on the front door. When she opened it, the woman was standing there.

"Oh my god, what happened?" Amanda had asked.

The woman's left cheek was red and puffy and blood coated the skin beneath her nose. Her hair was in disarray and her dress torn at the collar.

"May I come in?" the woman said.

"Yes. Oh my, of course. Please come in."

Amanda held out a hand and the woman took it. She entered the house but didn't release Amanda's hand. Amanda kicked the door closed and led the woman to the sitting area in front of the big fireplace. They stood facing each other without saying anything. Still holding hands. Every time Amanda attempted to pull her hand free the woman gripped it tighter.

"Please sit down," Amanda said.

The woman looked at the chairs in the room, but she didn't move. She began sniffling. Amanda wrapped her free arm around the woman who released Amanda's hand and flung both arms around her. She held Amanda tight, crushing their bodies together, their breasts together.

Amanda stood frozen in place. She felt the heat of the woman's body and how much softer it was than Pete's. Her hands, on the woman's back, automatically pulled the woman into her own body. Attempting to provide comfort. But partly because it felt nice.

"Tell me what happened?" Amanda said.

After a few sniffles and without letting go, the woman said, "My husband and I fought over what happened to our son. He hit me."

The woman buried her face in the crook of Amanda's neck and cried. Her lips pressed into the soft flesh and moved with her sobs. Like little kisses. Amanda felt a tingling in her loins but shoved that aside. She patted the woman's back.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Amanda asked.

"Can you just hold me for a little longer?"

The two stood in the room in each other's arms. The woman sobbing. Amanda patting her back and telling her everything would be all right. That she was safe now. The woman cried louder and held onto Amanda harder. Pulling her into her body. Their breasts crushed against each other's. The woman's thigh was between Amanda's legs pressing into her groin. Amanda jerked her hips back, but the woman lowered her hand to the area just above Amanda's buttocks and pulled her back.

Amanda didn't know what to do so she just stood there trying to console the woman. Trying to calm her down. To get her to stop crying. Nothing seemed to do that. The woman's tears soaked her neck. And the woman's lower body seemed to rock, pushing her thigh between Amanda's legs.

The tingling in Amanda's loins returned. She placed her hands on the woman's upper arms and jerked her hips back. The woman's hands slid down to cup her butt and pull her back against her thigh.

"Please hold me," the woman said. "Don't go away."

The woman's hands remained on Amanda's butt. Her fingers sank into the flesh and squeezed it as she pulled Amanda's groin against her thigh. The woman didn't stay still. At least her leg didn't. Her thigh pushed and rubbed against Amanda's pubic area. More than her pubic area. Against her clitoris. Amanda was getting wet down there.

With all her might, Amanda broke free of the woman's hold and jumped back. The woman stared at her through shiny eyes. Tears streamed down both cheeks. She cupped her face in her hands and sobbed.

"What's to become of me?" the woman asked.

"We'll go see the sheriff in the morning."

The woman slid her hands off her face. "What can he do?"

"I don't know. But your husband can't hit you. He'll do something." Amanda gasped. "Where's your son?"

"He's home sleeping."

"Is he safe?"

The woman stopped crying and stared at Amanda. "My husband never hits him. Only me."

"Did your son ever see it?"

The woman lowered her head and nodded. She looked back up. "I think that's why he's getting into fights."

"You better stay here tonight," Amanda said.

"I don't want to put you out."

"You're not putting me out. My bed is big enough for two."

***

"Wait a minute!" Pete shouted. He sat up straight and, with his hands on the chair's arms, was partway up, but he plopped back down. "She was holding your backside and rubbing her thigh against… you know where. And you invited her to your bed?"

"At the time I didn't see the signs. She was distressed so I thought what she was doing was an accident. Or at least innocent. That she didn't even know that she was doing it. I thought she just wanted to be held. To be comforted. So every time I pulled back she pulled me to her. I know it sounds naïve, but I guess I was naïve. Maybe because she was married and had a child. I don't know. But when my body reacted, I finally broke free."

"So you liked it?"

"Part of me did. Yes. It brought back memories."

"What kind of memories?"

Amanda blushed and sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and bit it. "Let me finish. Maybe you'll understand."

"I'm sorry," Pete said, "go on."

"I asked her if she had eaten and she said she had. I offered to sit down and talk, but she said she just wanted to go to bed."

Amanda continued telling what had happened.

***

The two had gone into the bedroom where Amanda retrieved a cotton nightgown from her dresser drawer. She had hesitated. Should she go into the front room to change? When she turned around, the woman was peeling off her dress. Amanda turned her back to the woman and removed her dress, camisole, and petticoat, standing in nothing more than her pantaloons and cotton stockings held up by an elastic band above the knee. The ruffles at the bottom of the pantaloon legs covered her knees. She had that feeling of being stared at so she quickly slipped the nightgown over her head and let it slide down her body.

Amanda turned back around. The woman's dress and petticoat were folded on the bed with her corset and cotton stockings on top of them. All she wore was a knee-length chemise that was thicker than Amanda's nightgown. With Amanda looking right at her, the woman lifted the bottom of the chemise to her waist and shoved her pantaloons down. For a brief moment, Amanda saw the patch of dark hair. But the chemise quickly dropped to cover it as the woman stepped out of her pantaloons.

Amanda once again turned her back to the woman. She lifted the nightgown to mid-thigh and reached beneath it to grab her pantaloons and pull them down. Then she put a foot on the chair in front of the dresser and rolled down the stocking and pulled it off. She removed the other stocking.

When Amanda turned back around, the woman was staring at her. Amanda's cheeks reddened and her eyes lowered. They landed on the woman's round breasts that, no longer constrained by the corset, wiggled freely under the chemise. Realizing she was staring at the hard nipples poking out the material, her eyes dropped. Right onto the area of the chemise puffed out by the tuft of curly hair she had gotten a quick glimpse of. Her eyes shot to her own body. Her nightgown was thinner than the woman's chemise. Not only did her pubic hair push out the nightgown at her groin, but the shadow meant it was somewhat see-through. And her own nipples were hard.

Amanda quickly got into bed and pulled the blanket up to her chin.

"Thanks for letting me stay," the woman said. "I hope I won't be a bother."

"Oh no, no bother at all."

The woman climbed into bed next to Amanda. The bed was big enough for two, but not huge. Their shoulders touched. As did Amanda's right arm against the woman's left. And the woman's knee was pressed against Amanda's thigh. Amanda lifted her right arm and laid it across her chest. The woman's shoulder and knee were still touching her so she rolled onto her side facing away from the woman. There was no more contact.

"Good night," Amanda said. "We'll see the sheriff tomorrow."

The woman leaned over Amanda and kissed her cheek. "You are wonderful. Thank you."

***

Pete interrupted Amanda. "It's not odd for women to sleep together."

Amanda was deep in the memory of that night. It took a while for her eyes to focus on him. "What?"

"I've shared a bed with a man. That's not unusual. And I see women kissing each other on the cheek all the time."

"What are you saying?"

"That maybe you're making something out of nothing. Maybe it's not what you think. Did you go to the sheriff the next morning?"

"The next morning?" Amanda's eyes rose to the left, searching her memory. "I'm sorry, maybe I'm dragging this out too long, but I want you do understand how it all happened. It wasn't planned. Please, Pete, let me finish."

When Pete nodded, Amanda continued telling her story.

***

It had been early morning when Amanda awoke. The sun had just arisen on the horizon, providing a pale light filtered through her yellow window curtain. She felt a hand on her naked butt. Having awoken from a deep sleep, she had thought it was Pete's and was about to spin around and hug him. But the skin was too soft. Pete's hands were calloused from ranch work. And then she remembered the night before and that it wasn't Pete in bed with her. Amanda had stiffened.

The hand wasn't moving. Maybe it was simply the closeness. Amanda felt around her belly and thighs. Her nightgown was up around her hips. She wasn't a restless sleeper so how did it get so high? She grabbed the hem and started tugging it down when the fingers sank into her ass flesh. Amanda froze.

Amanda held her breath. The hand moved. She sucked more air into her already full lungs and let it out in a long whoosh. The hand paused, but then moved, sliding over Amanda's buttock. Stroking it. Caressing it.

Trying to avoid an embarrassing scene, Amanda was about to get out of the bed, but she changed her mind. It felt good. The woman must have been doing it in her sleep so what harm was there in enjoying it a little longer? It had been a long time since she was touched with such a soft hand. Lying on her side with her legs slightly folded and knees up, facing away from the woman, Amanda sighed. The hand stopped caressing for an instant before dropping lower, to the inside of her bottom thigh where it joined her buttock.

And then a finger extended. Poking. Wiggling. Worming between her thighs onto her labia. That was something totally different so Amanda was determined to get out of bed. She shifted her top leg toward the side of the bed, planning to get out, but stopped when the finger entered her pussy. Just a bit. Maybe up to the first knuckle. Amanda couldn't stop her pussy from clamping around it. The finger wiggled inside her and probed deeper. All thoughts of leaving the bed vanished. Amanda sighed again, this time longer and louder.

Amanda slid a hand under the pillow and pulled it up, smothering her face with it. Her hips moved. She couldn't stop them. The finger was in so deep now that the woman's palm pressed into her buttocks. For the first time Amanda realized she had lifted her upper leg to allow the access. Now the finger wasn't wiggling. It was sliding in and out. Amanda's hips humped. Not fast. The pace was set by the slow-moving finger inside her. Amanda realized how effortlessly the finger slid in and out. She was soaking wet down there. She shoved the corner of the pillow into her mouth and bit down.

The finger sped up. Amanda's hips followed suit. She moaned into the pillow stuffed inside her mouth. With the woman's middle finger inside Amanda's pussy, her other fingers were on both sides of it, sunk into her fleshy labia. The tip of the index finger shifted onto her clitoris. It was like being hit by a bolt of lightning. Amanda's hips jerked and she grunted into the now drenched pillow.

Amanda had to put a stop to it, but her body lacked the willpower to get out of bed so she rolled onto her belly. The finger slid almost all the way out, but was rammed back inside. The mattress shifted. The woman's body now leaned on Amanda's hip with her soft breasts and hard nipples pressed into her back. Amanda was about to say something when the finger sped up. A fire ignited inside her loins.

Like a crazed person, Amanda raised her hips and slammed them back down, up and down, up and down, fucking like a man on top in the missionary position. Fucking the now vertical and unmoving finger. Smashing her clitoris against the mattress.

Amanda moaned. Grunted. With her climax approaching, she stopped fucking and ground her labia onto the woman's palm and her clitoris into the mattress. Her head rose and tilted back as her back arched. "Oh god!" Amanda screamed. Her body shuddered as she clamped her thighs around the woman's hand. And then her body went limp. Collapsed. Amanda lay panting into the pillow.

The woman pulled her finger out and brushed Amanda's hair to the side, leaving a wet trail on the back of her neck. The woman kissed the sensitive skin several times and then laid her cheek on Amanda's back.

***

The sound of Pete's voice brought Amanda back to the present. She let out a deep, shoulder-lifting, chest-expanding sigh at the memory of that night and then focused on Pete.

"Did you say something?" Amanda asked.

"Was it better than with me?"

Amanda thought a moment. "Not better. Different."

"How?" Pete asked.

"I don't know. Just different. You're strong and I love that about you. But a woman is so soft."

"And my fingers hurt you."

Amanda ran up to Pete. She lifted his hands and clasped them within hers. "No! Of course not. I love when you touch me."

"But you like her touch better."

Amanda shook her head. "It's different."

"But if the woman is a lesbian, how come she's married and has a child?"

"I don't think she knew she was a lesbian."

"How could she not know?"

"From our childhood days, we girls are taught to marry a man and have a family. That's what is expected of girls so that's what we believe. So we live our lives like that. For most women that works. But for others, like this woman, it's wrong."

"Why is it wrong?"

"Because some women are different. She sure is. I thought she had seduced me, but that wasn't what happened at all. Remember, she fondled me and gave me a huge orgasm. What else was I to think? But she didn't seduce me. After she had done that, she was more confused than I was."

Amanda's eyes looked up and to the left. "Where was I? Oh yes, I had just climaxed and she was lying with her head on my back. The silence was unbearable. I didn't know what to do and, at the time, I thought she was trying to seduce me. I had no idea how confused she was. Finally, without turning over, I asked her why she had done that to me. The woman started crying. My heart went out to her so I rolled onto my back. Her face stayed in contact with me and was now on my breasts over the nightgown, but she didn't move away. She continued sobbing so I patted her head and asked her again why she had done that.

"It took her a while to be able to talk. She told me she hated when her husband touched her. She thought she was frigid. But when she was alone and masturbated she had big orgasms. But that was the only time she climaxed. Never with her husband. As the years went by she tried to avoid sex. That got her husband angry so he forced himself on her."

"That's why he hit her?" Pete asked.

"That was part of it. Maybe that was all of it. She said he got meaner over the years, even when she gave in to him. But she hated sex. He never turned her on. And then she said that when she came to the school and watched me writing on the blackboard, it aroused her. She couldn't take her eyes off my, as she said, jiggling butt. She didn't know why and got embarrassed when she thought I caught her looking. She told me that when we were hugging it felt really good and that she got wet. Something that only happened when she masturbated. And then when we were lying in bed with our bodies touching, her arousal returned. She didn't understand what was going on and had a hard time falling asleep. Using her words, she had an itch down there. So she lifted the bottom of her chemise and masturbated to get relief. But I shifted in bed and that scared her so she stopped and eventually fell asleep.

"She told me that when she woke up she was in a terrible state. She felt the warmth of my body and it turned her on. She used her hand between her legs, but that wasn't enough. She remembered watching my backside while I was writing on the blackboard and placed a hand on my butt. I sighed so she jerked her hand away and held her breath. But I didn't awake. She touched me again and then got bolder. She wanted to touch my skin so she very carefully tugged my nightgown up. I guess I was in a deep sleep and didn't awaken. The woman got it high enough to touch the back of my thighs. She told me that she had never felt anything like it so she caressed the back of my naked thigh and masturbated with her other hand.

"I guess I moved in my sleep. She said she panicked and yanked the hand off my leg. While she had been caressing my thigh, she had kept moving her hand higher and it was under my nightgown when she yanked it away. Her hand snagged my nightgown and dragged it higher. She said I moved a lot so she thought I was waking up, but I rolled onto my side and settled down. When she built up the courage, she had been planning on putting her hand back on my thigh. But when she realized my backside was exposed she said she had to touch it. I told you what happened after that."

"And she was so good you didn't stop her," Pete said.

Amanda looked down. "I guess so." She lifted her eyes and studied Pete. "I need to be totally honest with you. It was her first time, but not mine."

Pete sat up straight. "There are other women?"

"No. It was a long time ago. When I was young. Unlike this woman, some girls experimented with other girls. I had a friend who knew at a young age that she liked girls and not boys. We did things together."

"She's a lesbian?"

"Yes, that woman is a lesbian."

"Do you still see her?"

"No, she moved away a long time ago. Before you came to Lonesome Flats."

"So you are a lesbian."

Amanda dropped to her knees at Pete's feet. "No, I love you and I love when you touch me and I love when we make love. I'm not a lesbian."

"But you like other women?"

"I didn't know that until the night with the woman. Before that I thought what happened when I was a girl was just experimentation. But when she touched me, it brought back the feelings I had when I was a girl. And after she told me how she felt, I knew she was a lesbian. She had poured her heart out to me and I felt how confused she was. So I made love to her. That day I taught her everything I knew and brought her to orgasm after orgasm. I canceled school and we spent the entire day in bed."

"What about the sheriff?"

"She didn't want to see the sheriff. She said as long as she had me she could put up with her husband. So we've been seeing each other ever since."

"And you're choosing her over me," Pete said.

"No! Oh no! I'm not choosing."

"But you won't give her up."

Amanda looked down and back up. "If I have to choose, I'll choose you. But part of me will regret giving her up and I'm afraid it will sour our relationship. That's why I said I can't marry you. I love you too much."

"Do you love her?"

"Not the way you mean. Of course two women can't marry, but I wouldn't want to marry her even if I could. I care for her, but I don't love her."

"But you want to have sex with her."

Amanda eyed Pete. "Did you love the saloon girls you had sex with?"

"I'm faithful to you."

"I mean before me."

"Of course not," Pete said.

"But you had sex with them anyway."

"It was only sex."

"Well, this is only sex. I don't love her."

With her eyes lowered, Amanda asked, "Will you stay the night?"

"I better get back to the ranch. I have a lot to think about."

 

Chapter 5

Pete left Amanda's house with a spinning head and a curdling in his stomach that threatened to come up. And a shattered heart. He couldn't believe what she had told him about being with another woman. Lesbians do that. Not normal women. Perched on top of Midnight, Pete jerked the reins hard to the right and slammed his heels into the horse's sides. Midnight bolted in a cloud of dust. The horse soared up the slope leading to the trail back to the ranch and galloped for nearly one hundred yards before Pete yanked the reins. The horse dug its hooves into the dirt and skidded to a stop.

Pete leaned forward and patted the side of the horse's long neck. "Sorry, boy, didn't mean to take it out on you. You would never betray me. But a change in plans. I need a drink."

Pete turned Midnight's head, guiding it with a gentle nudge on the reins. When the horse turned, Pete said, "Giddup." No heels in the ribs this time. Midnight started slowly and then trotted to town. They passed Amanda's house, the schoolhouse, and kept going until they were in front of the Silver Moon Saloon. Pete swung his right leg over the horse's rump, jumped to the ground, and tied up the big black stallion.

Pete shoved the batwing doors into the saloon and moseyed up to the bar, waving and nodding to the five townsmen playing poker at a round table. The saloon was more crowded than the last time, but nothing like a Saturday night when the rowdy cowboys came into town. Another man sat folded over with his head on a table. The empty glass next to his hand lay on its side. He was snoring.

Isabelle was once again the only saloon girl working. It would be different on a Saturday night when there were several of them, but someone had to work on the slow nights. This night it was Isabelle and she was sitting on Sven Olsson's knee with an arm draped over his shoulders, leaning into the fifty-year-old man who ran the telegraph office, whispering in his ear and nibbling on it. Sven drank from his glass of whiskey. Isabelle's full glass was on the table next to a half-empty bottle. Sven's thick gray mustache covered his upper lip and then some, and his bushy sideburns went all the way to his jawbone. There wasn't much hair on the top of his head, only the sides. Sven had a wife and, having married late in life, three children at home.

Pete started to raise his hand to wave to Sven, but dropped it to his side. Isabelle's hand was massaging the old man's cock. Sven was too preoccupied to notice Pete, but Isabelle's eyes followed him as he strolled up to the bar.

Pete tapped on the bar with his palm. "Max, give me a beer."

The bartender eyeballed him. "Boy, you ain't gonna get drunk again, are you?"

Pete snickered. "Not this time, pardner. Learned my lesson. My head still hurts. Just a beer."

Max poured the beer and placed the glass in front of Pete. "I'm sure you did. Good thing you got a smart horse. Didn't think you'd make it back to the ranch."

Pete took a long swig and swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. "Didn't. That horse has a mind of its own. Midnight dropped me off at Amanda's."

Max laughed. A hearty, boisterous laugh. "That horse is a damn smarter than you. It's a keeper."

Pete twisted his back and stretched. He rotated his shoulders. "You didn't hear me. He dropped me off at her house. Dropped me. I slept on the ground outside her house."

"Not that horse. It wouldn't. In your condition you probably just fell off. But that horse was smart enough to take you to Miss Amanda's. Damn fine lady. When you two gonna get hitched?"

Pete gulped half the glass of beer down. "Don't know."

"Want some advice? Snatch the little lady up before someone else does. She's a keeper, too."

Pete gulped down the rest of the beer. "Give me another."

The bartender raised an eyebrow but filled Pete's glass and placed it in front of him. Pete was about to pick it up when a chair scraped the wood floor behind him. He turned toward the noise. Sven had shoved his chair back and Isabelle was helping him as he struggled to get to his feet. He toppled over. Isabelle bent over, grabbed his arm, and pulled him up.

"Don't you dare pass out on me," Isabelle said.

She wrapped both arms around his right one and half dragged and half carried him to the staircase. As they climbed to the second floor where the bedrooms were, her eyes were locked on Pete.

Halfway up, Isabelle winked at Pete. "I'll be done with this old coot soon, mon chéri. My offer still stands. Anything you want. You ain't going to get that from no prissy schoolmarm. You won't be sorry."

Isabelle helped the stumbling man to the top landing and dragged him into a bedroom.

The bartender snickered. "That one can screw your pecker right off."

Pete turned to Max. "So you sample the goods?"

"Be a damn fool not to. They wouldn't be here if they didn't warm my bed. They get a place to work, a bunch of horny cowboys with money, and a bed. And I get free pussy. Sounds fair to me."

"So you've done all of them."

"Of course. Sometimes two at a time."

Pete had just taken a sip. The beer sprayed from his mouth. "At the same time?"

Max snatched a rag from behind the bar and wiped the counter. With the rag clutched in his fist, he leaned over the bar and whispered, "You have no idea."

Pete's eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped. He stepped back from the bar, took his hat off, and swept his Stetson in front of him as he bowed.

"My hat's off to you," Pete said. "You must have a lot of stamina to please two women."

Max snorted. "Hell, when I get tuckered out they do each other."

"What!"

"Sure. It's real hot. That often gets my pecker up again. Watching them."

Pete put his hat on. "Don't you think that's—? I don't know. Unnatural?"

"A man sucking my pecker is unnatural. Two girls is hot as hell. And they don't mind. On a slow night they do each other for fun. Most men think it's sick. Not me."

"But that's because they're whores."

"They're women. It's hot."

A noise from the second floor caused both Max and Pete to turn and look up. Isabelle was on the landing. She had Sven Olsson's ankle clamped in both hands and was dragging him to the top of the stairs. The top buttons of her dress were open and, being bent over, one milky white breast hung out. Sven's trousers were undone and pushed partway down, his suspenders hung from the waistband, and his limp dick dangled from the top of his pushed down long johns.

Max shouted, "Belle, what the hell are you doing to him?"

Isabelle swept a hand through her hair. "Going to throw him down the stairs."

"No way in hell! What's got into you?"

Isabelle flung Sven's foot to the floor. "The old coot passed out on me."

"So?"

"So he didn't do me."

"Didn't he pay in advance?"

"Yeah, but I got myself all worked up so that we could do it and the old coot passed out."

"You got paid, so what are you complaining about?"

Isabelle looked down at the snoring man and shrugged. She stepped over him and skipped down the stairs. Loose strands of hair kept falling on her face which she brushed aside. She walked up to Pete with the top of her dress still open. It showed more of her breasts than usual.

"Buy me a drink?" Isabelle asked.

Pete stared at the smudged lipstick and a white glob on the corner of her mouth. He pointed to it. "You have something there."

Isabelle's tongue whipped out and licked it up. She moved her mouth like a cow chewing and then swallowed. "The old coot told me to get him hard so that he could fuck me. That old bastard lasted no longer than a first-time teenager. He came in my mouth and passed out." She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Well, fuck him. It's his loss. So how about that drink?"

Pete walked over to the table Isabelle and Sven had been sitting at and brought the full glass of whiskey and half-full bottle back to the bar and placed them in front of her. "I believe this is yours."

Isabelle brought the glass to her lips and tilted her head back, finishing the drink in one gulp. "Aahh."

"Needed to get the taste out of your mouth?" Pete asked.

Isabelle scowled at him before she burst out laughing. "If you think I ain't used to a man's stuff you're crazy. I grew up in France. I got myself worked up to fuck the old coot and he passed out on me leaving me hung dry." She chuckled. "Actually, wet."

Isabelle poured herself another glass of whiskey from the bottle Sven had bought and downed it. She smacked her lips. "Since I'm ready, how about you and me going upstairs and doing it? You won't be sorry." She leaned next to Pete's ear and whispered, "You can finish in my mouth. I like it. I'm not a goody-good schoolmarm."

"Have another drink," Pete said.

"What I want is a good fucking. I'm wet and ready. Don't let it go to waste."

"Look, Belle, I told you—"

A commotion at the front of the saloon caused Pete to spin around. Jacob Webber, a short stocky man who owned the general store, pushed through the batwing doors and dragged his wife along the floor by her long brown hair. Charity Webber's hands were clutching her hair between her husband's hand and her scalp to stop the stinging. Her body twisted and rolled from her front to her back as she fought to get free. Dirt from the floor left smudges all over her light-yellow dress. Her ankle-high boots kicked the floor.

"What the hell are you doing?" Max shouted.

Jacob stopped in the middle of the room. Charity clawed at her husband's fist that had a handful of her hair in it. He was lifting her upper body off the floor by her hair like someone would a decapitated head, except hers was still connected to her body. Both of Charity's cheeks glinted with tears.

"Belle, I need to see you," Jacob said.

"Jacob," Max shouted, "what's your wife doing here?"

Jacob turned to the bartender. "We both need to see her."

"No way! Not in my place. This is not your general store. This is not a place for women."

Isabelle stomped her foot. "Hey! What do you think I am?"

Max turned to her. "Shut up! You know what I mean."

"Let me go!" Charity shouted as she grabbed her husband's forearm and started to clamber to her feet.

Jacob threw her back down and stomped on her chest. The side of his boot was parallel to the underside of her breasts like one would keep a newspaper from blowing away in the wind. "If you know what's good for you, shut up and don't move."

Jacob turned to Isabelle. "Belle, I need you to teach my wife how to have sex."

Isabelle snorted. "Shit! You have two children. She must know what to do."

"But not like you."

Isabelle glanced at the top of the stairs where Sven Olsson was passed out and snickered. "You men are all alike. You marry women like her but come to me when the sex isn't good. I grew up in France. Sex is more adventurous there." She turned to Pete. "Remember that, mon chéri."

Jacob removed his foot from his wife's chest and once again lifted her off the floor by her hair. "Then teach her."

Charity screamed and clawed at her husband's hand. "I'm a good wife. Don't shame me."

Pete took a step toward the Webbers. "Jacob, you better go home. This ain't right."

Jacob glared at Pete. "Stay out of it."

"I'm already in it. I can't stand here and watch you treat your wife like that. Let her go."

"It's none of your business. Stay out of it."

"Sorry, pardner, but I can't. Now pick your wife up and take her home."

"Not until Belle teaches her how to fuck."

Charity scrambled onto her knees. That took the weight off her hair. The pain in her scalp must have been awful. Pete was relieved when Jacob released her hair. Charity's hands flew to her head. Tears streamed down both cheeks. Jacob placed the sole of his boot on her chest and shoved her onto her back, holding her down with his foot on her chest.

"Take your foot off her," Pete said. "I'm not going to tell you again."

Jacob lifted his foot, but then kicked his wife in the side. Charity clutched her ribs and rolled onto her other side facing away from him. She drew her knees up and sobbed.

Pete pounced. He grabbed Jacob's arm and flung him away from his wife. Jacob stumbled until crashing into Warren Mote who was sitting at the round table pressing his five cards to his chest—two pair, kings and queens. A hand he expected to win the pot with.

Pete bent over and reached for Charity's wrist to help her to her feet. Jacob charged into his back, knocking Pete to the hard wood floor. The air was knocked out of him momentarily as Jacob landed on top of him. They rolled a few times, each struggling to gain the top position. Finally, Pete squirmed out from under Jacob and jumped to his feet. His Stetson lay upside down on the floor and he slapped his holster to make sure the Colt was still in it. It wasn't. He located the six-shooter, rushed to it, snatched it off the floor, and holstered it.

Jacob snorted like a bull ready to charge. His nostrils flared. His face was red, jaw clenched, and eyes slits.

"Enough!" Pete said. "Just go home."

Jacob tightened all ten fingers into fists and lunged. Pete stepped to the side and shoved Jacob to the floor. The shopkeeper rolled twice before scrambling to his feet. He glowered at Pete and charged again. The fingers on Pete's right hand curled into a fist. He ducked under Jacob's outstretched arms and drove his fist into the stocky man's gut. Jacob doubled over. Pete raised his fist and delivered a downward blow, connecting with the side of Jacob's temple. The man crumbled to the floor. Pete shook his stinging hand and waited, but the other man lay still. Pete poked Jacob's shoulder with the toe of his boot. There was no movement.

Pete went over to Charity and helped her to her feet. "Are you all right?"

The woman nodded. Tears stained her cheeks.

"Should I call the sheriff?" Pete asked.

Charity's eyes opened wide. "No! That will only make it worse."

"What about him?" Pete flicked his head toward her unconscious husband sprawled out on the floor.

"He'll come home when he comes to." Her eyes fell on Isabelle. "Or maybe after he's been with her."

A fresh tear rolled down Charity's left cheek. Gazing up at Pete's face, she said, "Amanda is a lucky girl." Charity got up on her tiptoes and gave Pete a peck on the cheek. "Thank you." She turned and, clutching her side, limped out of the saloon.

Pete swiped his Stetson off the floor, slapped it on his trousers a couple of times, and put it on. He returned to the bar and looked at Max.

"Has that ever happened before?" Pete asked.

Max shook his head. "I think women like Belle ruin it for wives. Take Sven. I'm sure he doesn't get at home what Belle gives him. It's one thing to give a man a child. It's something else to do what Belle does." The bartender glanced at the unconscious Jacob. "Do you want to be here when he wakes up?"

"You're right. Best be going."

Pete pressed his lips together and shook his head as he glanced at Jacob Webber. He marched past him on the way out of the saloon. He had a long ride back to the ranch anyway.

 

Chapter 6

Pete awoke groggy from a poor night's sleep. He had promised Amanda that he would think about what she had confessed to him and their relationship. All he could do that night was think about it. Tossing and turning for hours. So, after a few hours of restless sleep, he moped in bed not wanting to get up. However, a ranch didn't run by itself and the cavalry was expecting him to have horses to sell. Someone had stolen some of his and he needed to replace them before the cavalry's purchasing agent showed up. That meant rounding up wild horses and breaking them.

Pete forced himself out of bed, had a hearty breakfast, and left for the barn. He stepped into the cool morning air and regarded the lumber stacked on the ground and the partially built addition to his house. A second bedroom and a library. A bedroom for children. A library for Amanda. He shook his head and continued on.

In the barn, he tossed the clucking chickens some feed as he walked past them to where he kept the stabled horses. Collection of the eggs would wait for later. Most of the horses roamed freely in the corrals, but the foal and mare were kept in a stall in the barn. As was Midnight. Pete smiled at the foal. The small horse stood on shaky legs with its head tilted under its mother's tummy having its own breakfast. Satisfied all was well, Pete walked over to Midnight's stall. He cradled the horse's head in his hands and stared into the stallion's big brown eyes.

"You don't even care about them, do you?" Pete said. "You just got her pregnant and moved on. You're nothing but a stud. No emotional attachment to either of them, not even your offspring. Maybe you're better off than people. You won't get your heart broken."

Pete opened the stall gate and saddled Midnight. "We have work to do, old buddy. Need to gather up some more horses for the cavalry."

Pete walked Midnight out of the barn and closed the double doors. He mounted the horse, flicked the reins to the side, and tapped his heels into Midnight's sides. The horse kicked up dust as it headed in the direction Pete told it to go.

The clear morning had a slight chill in the air. Pete bounced on top of Midnight as they headed to a grassy area where the wild horses grazed. He pulled on the reins when he saw half a dozen wild horses huddled together. Midnight came to a stop and waited.

Pete took the stiff rope off his saddle horn and let some of it out, letting the lasso part hang near his foot in the stirrup. He tapped his heels into Midnight's sides and clucked twice. The horse had done it many times and didn't kick up any dust. Midnight started slowly toward the horses, like a stalking animal. When they were about fifty feet away, one of the wild horses lifted its head and stared at Pete and Midnight. It snorted.

Pete snapped his heels into Midnight's sides and lifted the lasso, twirling it in the air over his right shoulder. The wild horses stampeded as a group. Midnight was ready and bolted after them at a full gallop. When Pete got close, they all darted to the right. Pete didn't even have to pull on the reins. Midnight turned with them. When they turned left, so did Midnight.

Pete's wrist twirled the lasso in a wider circle now and, when he was in position, tossed it at the horse closest to him. The lasso floated over the horse's head and around its neck. Pete yanked back on the rope like a fisherman snagging a fish. The loop tightened around the horse's neck and the rope was almost wrenched from Pete's hand, but Midnight picked up speed to keep pace with the wild horse. Pete quickly wrapped the rope around his saddle horn and pulled on the reins. Midnight's rear hooves dug into the dirt. The wild horse's head was pulled back and the horse came to a stop. The other wild horses kept running.

Pete leaned forward and patted the side of Midnight's neck. "That's one, old boy."

With his feet in the stirrups, Pete stood up and twisted around to spot where the other wild horses had run off to. In the distance, over Pete's left shoulder, a cloud of smoke billowed up from the ground. He sat down in the saddle, turned Midnight's head that way, and tapped his heels on the horse's sides.

"Let’s go see what that smoke is."

Midnight slowly turned. The wild horse at the end of the lasso trotted alongside as they went to investigate. It was the wrong season for brush fires which typically happened in the dry, hot summer months. Pete assessed the wild horse as they rode. He would make a fine cavalry horse. Not fast, but sturdy.

The smoke got fainter the closer they got. Whatever was on fire was burning itself out. Pete was about to turn around when he got a foul whiff of something. Some animal must have gotten caught in the fire. That was unlikely. The fire wasn't that big. Curious, Pete continued on, a little faster now.

As he got closer, the smell got stronger. Pete became more alert. And Midnight did as well. Pete could tell by the horse's calculated strides and twitching ears. Even the wild horse seemed to hold back. When Pete saw a few cinders floating up in the air past the ridge ahead, he sped up. But when he got there, the sight before him caused him to pull back on the reins and come to a stop.

A burnt-out covered wagon was smoldering. The canvas top gone. Only the metal bands remained like the ribs on a skeleton. The wooden structure was charred but not completely burned to the ground. There were no horses attached to it, but a scorched person was leaning against one big wagon wheel. And a woman lay on the ground away from the wagon. Her clothes were torn and dirty and up around her waist.

Pete rushed to where the woman lay. He jumped off Midnight and looked around with his hand on the handle of his Colt. There was no one around. He stooped next to the woman and touched her cheek. It was warm. He picked up her hand. She moaned. She was alive. Pete looked at her exposed, soiled crotch. She had been violated. He pulled her clothing down.

Lifting the woman's hand, he patted it. "Ma'am, can you hear me? Can you talk?"

The woman groaned, but didn't move. Didn't open her eyes. Still holding her hand, Pete straightened up and looked in all directions. His eyes settled on the burned corpse. Probably her husband. What were they doing out there by themselves? And who had done this to them? There hadn't been Indian trouble in a long time.

That was a preview of The Breeder. To read the rest purchase the book.

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