by John Legg
“There ain’t nothin’ for either of ye to be sorry for, ’cept your choice of location.”
“We’ll not do it agin, Nathaniel,” Train said, his voice sounding strangled.
“That be the biggest load of buffalo shit I’ve heard since LeGrande told that tale about the glass mountain to the goddamned Rees. Kept those bastards occupied till they was failin’ down drunk and we could make us a getaway. ”
He sat in thought, stroking his bushy beard. Train and Hannah squatted uncomfortably nearby, waiting. For what, they were not sure. Squire knew he should have seen their discomfort right off. He was no longer as wild and carefree as these young people, who were unable to control their passions. And why should they? It was natural. Just like it had been natural ...
He had been barely fifteen, already bigger than most men, strong and confident. Beth had been a fortnight from her fifteenth birthday. She was tiny compared to the huge, ungainly Nathaniel Squire, and too pretty for words. Her flaming mane of red hair was enough to excite any man. But Squire was the one she had wanted—and he had wanted her.
It was in May, and now, twenty years and fifteen hundred plus miles removed, he could still smell the new hay, the blooming flowers, the wood smoke from the house. And the odors of the barn as they entered—the sour scent of manure, mingled with wet hay. But mostly he remembered her aroma, a spring freshness on her skin mixed with the heavy fragrance of her budding womanhood. It nearly overwhelmed him.
They had climbed to the loft of her daddy’s barn. Her tinkling laughter and soothing voice were as real to him now as they were that day. And with an ache in his groin and a pang in his heart, he could see her remove her simple frock dress and undershift. There she stood, her glossy hair flowing past her shoulders and down over blooming breasts; the crimson of her mane was matched by that of her pubic region.
He was sure he had not mentioned an intelligible word in some time, and he remembered he groaned with the bursting feeling in his loins as he eased her down onto the hay. Then his breeches were off and he had entered her.
She shrieked and bit his shoulder as the pain cut into her. He cursed himself, knowing he was just a big, clumsy oaf and had been much too forceful. He tried to apologize, but words were not forming, just garbled grunts. “Hush,” she whispered in his ear.
She wiggled her bottom in a circle and then pulled away from him a little before thrusting hard and hungry against him. Within moments he had caught the rhythm.
Suddenly he saw the sun explode before his eyes, and a strange feeling roared through him, bursting from his crotch to expand upward and outward. He groaned, and she moaned before she lay whimpering, shaking with an almost uncontrollable lust. Her hungry lips sought his and she drew him closer.
Before long, he felt himself swelling again, and once more the basic, ages-old dance began, with its simple, strong cadence. There was another explosion in his crotch that zoomed straight to his head, making him feel almost dizzy. But he was dimly aware that she was writhing and moaning and that her womanhood clutched at his manhood, milking him.
And when it was over and their breathing back to something like normal, he said, “And will ye marry me?”
“Aye,” she breathed. “But not for a time yet.”
“And why not?”
“Ye need to make your way yet as a man, to gain property. And build us a home on our land.”
“Then that be what I’ll do. I’ll work—”
Beth screamed as she saw her father loom over them, his old flintlock horse pistol in hand . . .
Squire growled, frightening Train and Hannah a little, and shook his head. That was so long ago. It was why he had left his home. Beth’s father had not shot him, as he was afraid the old man would. But he had stood stone-faced as the young lovers scrambled into their clothes. “You’ll go into the house and wait there until I return, girl,” he said harshly. “I’ll be dealin’ with ye then.”
He aimed the pistol at Squire’s midsection. He marched the young man angrily over to his home, where, in rigid tones and tightly controlled voice, he explained to Squire’s father what he had caught the younger Nathaniel doing to—not with, of course— his saintly daughter.
The shame of it was great, and rather than bring his family further disgrace, Squire packed a few belongings in an old bag. As he was ready to slip out the door, he was confronted by his father’s large frame.
“I hate to see ye goin’, son,” the big man, who towered over the youth, said.
“I don’t want to be goin’, Papa.”
“But it’s best.” He grinned. “Ye ought to get a medal for beddin’ that little wench, boy. But your Ma don’t see it that way. ”
“I know,” Squire mumbled, torn between wanting to laugh aloud at his manliness, or weep for his disgraceful behavior.
“You’ll be needin’ some things to help ye along.” He handed his son a few coins. “Ain’t much, but if ye watch your ways, it’ll last ye some. And here.” He handed Squire a good flintlock rifle, .58-caliber with a full stock of curly maple.
“I can’t take this, Papa.”
“Sure ye can. It’ll do ye more good than it will me. ” He handed over the shooting bag and powder horns that went with it. “I’ll get new.”
They stood for some moments. “I was gonna marry her, ye know.”
His father nodded.
They stood silent some more. Without another word, Squire’s father opened his brawny arms. He and his son hugged. Then the youth, with tears in his eyes, was out the door and walking down the path in the deep darkness . . .
Well, goddammit, Squire thought in the Sioux village, these two young folk ain’t gonna be goin’ through the same thing.
He smiled at Train and Hannah. “All right, ye two, listen. I reckon ye ain’t gonna be able to keep your hands off’n each other forever, and if’n ye be set and determined to be together, I’ll help ye.”
He thought it had turned suddenly into day so bright were their smiles and the joy on their faces. He growled again, so he would not have to smile. “Now, ye both listen. Abner, ye go’n hunt up ol’ Homer. He’s still with Sky Hawk. And, Hannah, I be wantin’ ye to, find Li’l Jim or Benji. Ye’re both to be stayin’ put till I come callin’ for ye.”
The two nodded, fairly beaming, and Squire hoped they would not give themselves away just by their looks. “Now get.” Squire stroked his beard a few more times, trying not to grin. But he couldn’t help himself.
An hour later the mountain man strolled up to where Bellows and Sky Hawk still sat chatting. The old Indian appeared to be well on his way to drunkenness, a jug of whiskey clutched tightly in his hands. Train sat nearby, looking anxious, eyes glued on Squire’s face.
Squire nodded, and Train leaped up. “Best be settlin’ down, lad,” Squire said quietly.
Train nodded and took a deep breath, trying to calm the raging inside him. He and Squire slipped through the village around the tall, conical tipis, past the small circles of light thrown by campfires. To Train, it seemed that they walked randomly, until they stopped near a tipi. Squire casually looked around, assuring himself that they had not been seen.
“When I tell ye to duck into this here lodge, boy, ye do it fast. And once ye be in there, don’t ye e’en dare so much as to poke your nose out the flap till I be comin’ for ye.”
“Yes, sir.” Train was frightened, happy, exhilarated and nervous all at the same time.
Squire searched one more time with his eyes, ears and nose. “Get,” he snapped, and walked away.
Chapter Twenty-Five
TRAIN ducked into the tipi and stood in the dark, holding his breath. The darkness was broken only by the dim glow of a few hot embers in a pit in the center of the lodge. All he could hear was his heart pounding. Then there came a soft voice: “Abner?”
“That you, Hannah?” he asked with an eager tightness enveloping him.
“Yes.”
They needed no light to find each other. Soon th
ey were lying together on soft buffalo hides, trembling in their eagerness, not even taking time to remove all their clothing, fumbling in their youthful awkwardness.
“Take me, Abner. Now!” Hannah demanded, seemingly unable to get enough of him, wanting all his hardness inside her.
He was unable to speak, but there was no need to. He plunged deeply into Hannah, eliciting a gasp with the sudden short pain of it, and then a moan as she settled in under his bulk and rocked in time with his thrusts. Her breathing was ragged, spasmodic, and she bit her lip to keep from screaming with the pleasure of his deep, powerful plunges. .
Her mouth sought his and greedily sucked at his tongue and lips. He grunted as the lust grew and built until it seemed as if his whole being were wrapped in the link between their groins.
She did scream then, the sound bursting forth from her mouth directly into Train’s. He shuddered and groaned, unable to hold back any longer as the two climaxed with a force neither had ever known. It left them shuddering, and their breathing came hard for many minutes. They snuggled close, holding each other, afraid to unlock their loins, basking in each other’s warmth and smell.
Then, Hannah rose and Train could hear her on the other side of the large tipi. He smiled in the darkness, happier than he had ever been.
“Are you hungry?” Hannah whispered from the shadows, afraid that her voice would not work properly.
“Reckon I am, but I doubt there’s much we can do about it. Nathaniel told us to stay put.”
“He made sure there was food. And wood and water. All that we need.”
Train rose, groping toward the dim glow of the coals. He grabbed kindling and twigs, threw them on the coals and blew softly on the pile, nursing it into a flame. Patiently he built up the fire until cozy flames spread light and warmth, the smoke drifting up toward the banked opening.
They sat together, holding each other, waiting for the food to be done. There was no need for them to talk, only a need to touch. And then they ate, happily feeding each other bits of buffalo hump and elk and sips of water. When they finished, Train kissed Hannah again, desire running strong through him. She responded eagerly, lips open, tongue searching, heart fluttering.
They broke the kiss, and Train stared at the shadowy features of her face, which was highlighted by the flickering fire.
“I’d like to see ye again, Hannah,” he croaked, voice cracking with desire. “Like I done that first day.”
“No, Abner,” she said, suppressing a shudder. “Don’t ask that.”
“Why?”
“It ain’t right somehow.”
“After what we just did?” He tried to grin, but his passions would not let him.
She hung her head. “It’s too shameful. So’s what we just did.”
“You sorry for what we done?”
“I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem right. It’s not so bad in the dark, when I’m not exposin’ myself, but I think maybe it’s wrong, what we’re doing here.”
“The hell it is,” Train said huskily. “Maybe it’s just that ya don’t love me.”
“Oh, but I do. I really do.” She kissed him lightly. He pulled away quickly, though his penis fluttered.
“We ain’t back home, ya know,” he said, “with all them pryin’ eyes and pious old fools who preach one thing and do another. We ain’t doin’ nothin’ wrong in our eyes, and we ain’t doin’ nothin’ wrong in God’s eyes neither. I know we ain’t.”
She stared up at him, almost defiant. “You’re just sayin’ those things so’s you can have your way is all,” she pouted.
“Is that how little ya think of me?” he asked, hurt in his eyes and voice. He threw his arms around her and hugged her. “Well, it ain’t true. I swear it. If’n we was back home, I’d have married you already.”
“You tellin’ true to me, Abner?” she asked, desperately wanting to believe.
“Yes,” he said sincerely. “I’ve never felt this way about any girl before. And if’n ya don’t believe me, we’ll go on out right this minute and see if Nathaniel can marry us somehow.”
“You’d do that?”
“I sure would,” he said with dignity. “Even if’n it was just Injun style for now.”
She smiled, the doubts gone. “I’d like to be your wife, Abner,” she said, almost dreamily.
“Then let’s do it,” Train said firmly.
Her face clouded. “No, we’d better not. It’d cause too much trouble for everybody. If everyone was to know about me, they’d send me back, and maybe you, too. And if they let me stay, I’d be the only woman. Do you want that?”
It was a shock to him, the thought of her being the only woman, out in the open, with all these hard men. “No,” he said carefully, “but Nathaniel would watch over us.”
“You trust him that much?”
“Yes.”
“Me, too. But he can’t be everywhere, Abner. We’d have to stand up on our own.”
“Then I’ll take care of us,” Train said, eyes flashing with pride and determination. He was young, strong, fearless.
She smiled and stroked his bushy cheek. “I know you’d take care of me real good, Abner”—she giggled, then grew serious again—“and I know you could take on any two men we got with us, ’cept maybe Nathaniel. But it wouldn’t do us no good to have you fightin’ over me all the time. You’d get hurt sooner or later, and I couldn’t bear that.”
“But . . .”
“No,” she said softly, “we’d best just leave things the way they are.”
“Do you believe that I love ya?”
“Yes.” It was said emphatically.
“And do you love me?” He thought his heart stopped for a minute while he waited for her answer.
She lightly brushed her lips across his. Without a word, she stood and tossed more wood on the fire, making it blaze enough to brighten the center of the tipi. Gradually the lodge was filled with golden light that faded into shadow at the rim.
She stepped off a few paces and kicked off her worn shoes. She fluffed her short, tawny hair with her fingers, suddenly unsure of herself. She unbuttoned her shirt and tossed it down on her shoes. Self-consciously she began unwrapping the wide buckskin bands that flattened her breasts.
Train sat in rapt attention, mouth dry, palms wet. Never in all his life had he dreamed something like this would happen to him. His chest felt constricted, as if his heart had grown too large for it.
Hannah dropped the two bands to the ground, exposing her breasts. Her face glowed rosily, partly from embarrassment, partly from the flickering of the fire.
Train tried to speak, but the tightness around his heart and his dry mouth would not let him.
Hannah quickly skinned off her trousers and stood naked, her creamy flesh gleaming in the amber firelight. She hung her head, ashamed by her own brazenness, but feeling a tingle of enjoyment, too.
Train gasped, then stood and walked to her. Cupping her chin in his large hand, he pulled her face up to gaze into it. “You don’t have to be ashamed, Hannah,” he said hoarsely. “Someday you’ll be my wife, and this’ll all be all right.”
“Mama never let Daddy see her so wanton. Not through all that time and all the young’uns.”
“Then your daddy was a damned fool. Any man don’t take pleasure in lookin’ at his woman, ’specially if she’s as beautiful as you, ain’t right somehow.”
“You don’t think I’m being too brazen?” she asked, eyes colored by guilt, and an impish pleasure. “You don’t think I’m like those women you hear about who give out their favors to any man who’s got money?”
“Lord, no,” he said thickly. He hugged her tightly, letting his strength flow into her, the action enlarging him. He stroked her hair and smiled. Finally he held her at arm’s length so he could stare into her vivid green eyes. “We ain’t doin’ nothin’ wrong, here, Hannah. Do you think I’m the kind of man who’d use ya just for himself and then toss ya aside? Do ya think I’d let ya be shamed by a
nyone?”
“No.”
“Then put your fears to rest. I’ll never treat ya poorly. I promise ya that.”
“And you’ll love me?”
“For all the days I’m on this Earth,” he said so intensely that she could not possibly doubt him.
A smile covered her face. “You like me this way?” she asked, pulling away from him and spinning, arms outstretched.
“Oh, Lord, yes,” he said through a suddenly constricted throat.
“Do you like my body?”
He nodded, licking his lips. She was small, and slim, but her breasts rose high and proud, capped by small, rosy-dark nipples. Her belly was barely rounded, with a deep-set navel, rolling down to the tawny pubic hair above long, slender, perfectly formed legs. Her skin was pale and glimmered in the light.
“And you’d like me to be more wanton?”
“Yes.” It was strangled.
A wicked gleam grew in her eyes, “I’d like you this way, too,” she said, shame lingering at the edges of her voice.
“What?”
“I’d like to see you this way, too.” She stepped up to him and reached to pull his head down to hers. She kissed him hard, leaving no doubt as to her feelings and the lust that was growing inside her like a thunderstorm.
“But, Hannah,” he complained. It was his turn to be embarrassed.
“No buts, Abner. ” It was funny, she thought, how the roles had been reversed. Now there was no stopping her, once she had made up her mind. Passion overrode her reason, but she did not care. If she was going to love him—and make love to him—she was going to do it completely, with no doubts, no shame and no fear.
“I . . . I . . .” But there was nothing he could say.
“Don’t I excite you?”
He could only gurgle incoherently, as his manhood threatened to burst out of his pants.
Sucking in her breath, fighting back the fear she had sworn not to have, she reached out and stroked him beneath his wool pants. He groaned, and she stepped back, feigning shock. “Why, Mr. Train, whatever is that I feel?”