by Sienna Mynx
“So beautiful. So fucking beautiful,” he said. “Oh yeah! It’s good!”
She didn’t know if he meant her or the feeling they shared. The sublime heat and friction of his dick was unlike anything she’d ever known. Then he flexed his hips and thighs, pushing forward and driving himself deeper once more. Her legs loosened and dropped from his waist, but he pressed closer, released her butt cheeks and hooked his arms beneath her thighs. It was then that his sensual movements of loving her quickened and sharpened to the point of ecstasy.
She clung to him, not knowing what else to do. He buried his face in her neck and delivered rapid strikes, repeated thrusts of his hips and dick. Moving his hips from side-to-side he stretched her pussy walls. And her body shivered against his in response, with her hips bucking under him.
Jeremiah came up on his arms and peered down at her. He dropped his head back and the veins in his neck thickened, his jaw locked tight. Annabelle grabbed both sides of his elevated chest and bit down on her lip as the pain, though brief, sliced into her once more. She endured. And thankfully with each thrust she found the invasion tolerable, more meaningful. Because pleasure and pain seemed to both be a part of this, she couldn’t decide on what stimulated her more. She held on as he gave her the hardest thrusts since their coupling, and she watched as he grunted through what had to be equal to the release he gave her when he kissed her below as his seed filled her womb.
And then he collapsed.
Again Jeremiah began to suck on her lips and devour her with unrelenting kisses that had her moaning and eagerly seeking more. He lifted his hips and pulled his dick out of her sore vagina.
It was done. She was definitely done. Spent.
Annabelle rubbed the knotted tendons of his back as he shuddered through the last of his orgasm. She imagined that what they shared would change and evolve the way the girls giggled about her down at the saloon. Right now it wasn’t all that great, yet extremely special because of her feelings for the outlaw. They’d have to try again.
**
“Where will you go?” she asked, her chin resting on his chest as she ran the pad of her index finger over his bottom lip. Their sleep was brief, with him waking her to cuddle and snuggle. “After, I mean. When we’ve settled this with the man Shepherd.”
“I dunno,” he said earnestly.
“I won’t ever see you again, will I?” she asked, pressing her face to his chest. Praying that her suspicions were wrong.
“I’m wanted by the law, and the law won’t stop hunting me. For me to stay and put down roots in your town, even if your Indian and that sheriff allowed it, puts you and everyone here in danger,” he said.
“I know,” she said sadly.
“If there was another way—” he began.
“Jeremiah, I understand. This was neva meant to be foreva. I understand that.” She looked up. “I have you for now. That’s enough.”
She felt bereft and discouraged over the pending end to their romance. Soon he was asleep again. But Annabelle couldn’t join him. She rose and left the warmth of his arms. Going through her dark cabin she dressed and put on a heavy robe. Slipping on shoes, she decided to visit the outhouse and get some fresh water. Maybe she’d make him breakfast before the sun rose and they’d share a meal.
The night was cooler than she expected. She held the lantern in her hand and looked toward the sleeping town. Even if he asked her to go with him, which she doubted he would, how could she leave? Nicademus was not only utopia for people like her, it was her sanctuary. No other place offered her such freedom.
Annabelle walked down the front steps and circled her home. She swung the lantern in her hand, reliving the feelings that he drove through her body. She smiled, considering doing it again since it felt sweeter each time.
Just as she cleared the side of her house a man reached out and grabbed her by the mouth. Shocked, she dropped her lantern and squealed, kicking her legs. Shepherd walked up smiling.
“Well look what we done caught.”
**
Jeremiah turned over. He missed her immediately. “Annie?”
Rising on his elbow he looked through the darkness. “Annabelle?”
He didn’t hear her. Concerned, he dressed. Where could she be? He went for the door and discovered that the bolt has been removed. She had to have gone out alone. “Annabelle!” he said, rushing out, forgetting the gun.
6.
Jeremiah heard her scream as soon as he cleared the door. Icy dread crystalized in his gut. He dropped off the porch and ran. From nowhere he was collared and thrown to the ground. Winded and confused, he tried to fight off his attacker, but the man proved stronger.
The gunshot wound to his side split, and the delicate stitching Annabelle had done with such care opened. Agony sliced through him, blinding him with pain. He was pinned down with someone’s knee to his chest. The person leaned in and covered his mouth.
Jeremiah double blinked and his vision sharpened on the face of his attacker. It was Red Sun.
The Indian glared down at Jeremiah, then put a finger to his own lip to indicate he must remain silent. Jeremiah nodded. Red Sun rose, and the air returned to Jeremiah’s lungs. Jeremiah rubbed his aching torso and tried to stand. Fear for Annabelle made him anxious, and his misery insufferable. The sounds of her screams and the men’s laughter returned strength to his legs and brought him to his feet.
He had to get to her, quick.
His eyes cut over to the Indian who was staring in the direction of the attack.
“What are we waiting for?” he whispered hoarsely. He started to run for her but Red Sun threw out his arm and stopped him. Instead, Red Sun put a pistol in his hand. He then plucked his hatchet from his back pocket and pointed to the chicken hut.
Jeremiah’s eyes followed his point. The night shadows were impenetrable thanks to the reaching branches of the surrounding trees. It could be a perfect hiding place to pick her attackers off one by one. He nodded that he’d run for the hut and make sure his aim was accurate. Red Sun rotated his index finger upward indicating he’d circle the other side.
They both dashed off, itching for the fight.
**
“Boss, let me have a go at her first.” A young roughie began to loosen his gun belt. The man forced his hand over her mouth and groped her obscenely through the opening to her robe. Annabelle bit the inside of his dirty palm. Shocked, the brute released her. Instead of running she turned on him and attacked him like a wildcat. She clawed at his face and hit him with her fist.
“I’ll kill ya! I’ll kill ya dead!” she screamed. The man was either surprised or a coward. Annabelle assumed the latter. He fell back and she got on top of him and pounded his face with her fists.
“Well don’t just stand there,” Shepherd chuckled. “Get her!”
It took two of them to pull her off the man. But not even two men could calm her rage. She bucked and fought them both.
“She crazy and mean as a rattler! I oughta kill the bitch!” the man said as he got to his feet and drew his gun.
“Cool it, Roy,” Shepherd ordered. “Hold her still, boys,” he commanded.
Annabelle looked up at the leader of the men holding her through her hair that had fallen in her face. Shepherd stepped into her space. He smirked down at her. “We can do this easy or we can do it rough, what’s it gonna be?”
She smiled.
“What’s funny, gal?”
Annabelle coughed up phlegm and spat it in his face. Stunned, Shepherd backed up; she was meaner than a rattler, he thought. Angered, he struck her across the face so hard she nearly lost consciousness.
“Go check inside, find out if he’s in there,” Shepherd said. “That’s his fucking horse! I know it!” He removed his handkerchief and wiped the spit from his face. The one called Roy stared at Annabelle as if she was an alien.
“I’ve never seen a woman like you so wild,” he said to Annabelle. “Don’t you understand what we plans for you, missy
?” he asked.
“You deaf, boy? Go check!” Shepherd hissed.
“Yes sir, boss,” Roy said. He nursed the bleeding hand she had bitten and walked back toward the cabin. One of the men let her go and went with him. The other held her by the arms. He kept them pinned behind her back. She had no defense. Her robe was open, her nakedness revealed. Shepherd eyed her. Annabelle was dazed from the strike. She hung her head to stop the effect the blow had on her vision.
“Curious about you, girl. How is it you so young and unspoiled? Who protecting you?” he asked.
She didn’t bother to answer. She just worked on harnessing her strength.
“You know, my pa once tell me that an angry bull is nothing but a pussy compared to an angry woman. You been raised to think you special.” Shepherd grabbed her chin and forced her face up. “I used to keep women like you down in N’awleens. Had a lot of fun breaking them. We gonna have some of that fun tonight.”
**
“I’m bleeding.” Gene cursed.
“Oh quit your bellyaching,” Roy said. “I’m the one with a bleeding hand!” He then stopped. Gene kept walking but soon stopped too and looked back. It must have been the look on Roy’s face that clued him in. An Indian was less than fifty feet before them. The red man stood tall as a tree with his coal black hair resting on his shoulders from a center parting. His eyes were dark. Roy saw his own death in those coal black eyes.
Before either could speak or react, the Indian threw something that Gene could not identify until it whizzed past his face and split Roy dead between the eyes. He looked back in horror to see the hatchet buried in his friend’s skull and the dead look that clouded his face. Roy was dead.
Gene fumbled for his guns. His delayed reaction was the death of him. The Indian was on him in seconds. Wrapping his big arm around his neck, he gave it a hard twist until the bones snapped like a twig. Gene pissed himself before he dropped.
Red Sun removed his hatchet and skinned them both of their scalps. Not a custom of his people, but one he made sure to adapt when taking the life of this kind of enemy. Since they believed him a savage, he’d deliver as one.
**
Jeremiah watched Shepherd grab at Annabelle’s chin. His finger twitched on the trigger and his body shook with urgent need. He had to be wise on this one. Pressing his lips together, he squinted in the dark, unsure of his aim. Then it came to him. Instead of risking hitting her, he shot one of the horses. The animal squealed and dropped, and the man holding Annabelle released her, drawing his six-shooters from his hips and firing blindly into the dark. Shepherd did as well. Jeremiah shot her assailant, as bark splintered near his head due to the return of gunfire. With no visual on their shooter, Shepherd slipped into the shadows.
“Shit! Annabelle, run!” he yelled.
Annabelle crawled away for cover. Jeremiah came from the dark side of the chicken hut pulling the trigger on the empty gun. Where was Shep? Where? His adrenaline and thirst for revenge was so strong he hadn’t realized the weapon he carried was useless.
“Where the hell are you?” he shouted.
He heard the sounds of a galloping horse. Jeremiah turned left and right and then caught a glimpse of Tyler Shepherd thanks to the moon as he rode off toward the mountains.
“Damn it!” he yelled running after him. But he staggered and stopped when the pain in his side became too much. Winded, he turned and walked back to Annabelle.
He found her. She was against the cabin weeping, her eyes stretched wide with shock. When she saw him she ran straight into his arms.
“I got you!” he swore.
Red Sun shot from around the side of the house on Jeremiah’s horse. He yelled something as he passed them and rode the horse hard in the direction Shepherd had run.
“What did he say?”
“He’s going after him,” she wept.
“It’s my fight, I should go with him.” He pulled her arms down. His eyes searched for another horse.
“No! He won’t wait for you!” she pulled on his arm. “Don’t leave me,” she pleaded.
Seeing the swelling to the side of her face stopped him. She nearly collapsed, so he swept her up in his arms. He carried her around the cabin, and kept her face pressed into his chest as he walked past the dead men, missing their scalps. Others from town were arriving. He could see the lanterns they carried and hear the commotion. The sheriff led the crowd and the one named Ms. Kitty was at his side. They met them both at the front porch, having heard the gunfire. The people had angry scowls on their faces, all focused on him.
“What happened?” Ms. Kitty demanded. “Where’s Red Sun?”
“Take her inside,” the sheriff commanded. He turned to the crowd of worried onlookers. “Go back! We’ll see to her. Nothing for any of you to do tonight. Go back.” His request was met with some loud opposition. It was all he heard before he carried Annabelle inside and placed her on the cot.
“What the hell happened here?” Ms. Kitty shoved him away. She checked Annabelle who continued to cry and shiver. Jeremiah paced. “Answer me, outlaw!”
“Shepherd came. He caught her outside. And then your Indian showed up. We got three dead men out there.”
The sheriff slammed the door. He glared at Jeremiah having heard the last of his statement. “Dead men?”
“They attacked us,” Jeremiah tried to explain.
“Shut up!” the sheriff shouted. “You bring this on our town. You!” he pointed at Jeremiah. “Where is Red Sun?” he asked.
“He went after him,” Jeremiah said.
Ms. Kitty stood. “Take it outside while I tend to her. Go!”
“Do I need to send for Doc Samuel?” the sheriff asked.
“No. You need to go. Both of you!” she demanded. “It’s a woman thing. I need to see if they took advantage of her.”
Jeremiah looked back at Annabelle. She had curled up into a frightened ball. Had the men raped her? He prayed to God they hadn’t. He prayed hard. The fight in her was gone. He wanted to care for her but the look of anger in Ms. Kitty’s eyes said he better not try. Reluctant and filled with regret he hung his head and went outside with the sheriff.
The sheriff paced the length of the porch before he turned and demanded a complete explanation. “Start from the beginning.”
“Annabelle was attacked. I told you,” he put his face in hands.
“I gather that, what else?” the sheriff asked.
Jeremiah’s eyes went to the door where Annabelle was, and his throat became dry. If Shepherd had changed her in any way he’d kill him with his bare hands. “She left the cabin and I went after her. When I got out there I met Red Sun. He and I took after the men who had her.”
“You sure they dead?” the sheriff asked.
Jeremiah shrugged. “I think so.”
“Come with me,” the sheriff said.
He followed him off the porch. They walked around and found three dead men. The sheriff took off his hat and slapped it against his leg in frustration. “I will get the boys back down here to take these bodies down to the mines,” he said through clenched teeth. “Bury them where not even the coyotes can find them.”
“I’m sorry for this. All of it.”
The sheriff approached him. “You will be. Because right now you gon’ tell me what you really running from. Or we gonna bury four white men tonight.”
**
“Ow, Ms. Kitty …” Annabelle said. She knocked her surrogate mother’s hand away.
“Put it there.” Ms. Kitty pointed to Annabelle’s split lip. Annabelle returned the cool rag to her face.
“Where’s Jeremiah? Is he okay?” she asked.
“He fine, you the one that was attacked.”
Annabelle covered herself and blushed. “I’m fine too. He saved my life.”
“Your life wouldn’t be in danger if it weren’t for him! What you thinking? That outlaw your hero, your man? He gon’ get you killed or lynched, or worse!”
“He cain’
t help who he is, and he has a name. They call him Jeremiah, like in the bible you read.”
Ms. Kitty narrowed her eyes. “And?”
“And he ain’t no outlaw, not really. He just runnin’ like the rest of us, from a whole lot of hurt. From a man you know!”
The words hit Ms. Kitty hard. She stood and walked away.
“He said he had girls in New Orleans. Girls like me. Said he was mean to them, broke them.”
Ms. Kitty glanced back. “He told you this?”
Annabelle nodded. “Said he would hurt me the same.” Annabelle winced and sat up. The blow to her head had her dizzy, but she’d live.
“I know the man. I was sold to him as a child. At first he used me as his slave to do his bidding. But that changed. I cain’t remember how long before it changed. It’s like my memories of innocence and happiness back then were erased the day Shepherd … put his hands on me.” Ms. Kitty sucked down a deep breath. “All I can say is the man is evil. The real evil, not just mean and hateful, but void of a soul. That kind of evil don’t die easily. And people like us don’t get justice from it. Nicademus is doomed now that you and that outlaw done spilled blood. Shepherd will come back and he’ll have the law on his side when he burn this town to the ground.”
“We can fight him!” Annabelle reasoned.
“And how you suppose we do that? What happened to your tribe when the chief decided to fight? Huh?”
Annabelle stood. The dizziness made her sway. Ms. Kitty was at her side in an instant to keep her standing. “Sit for a spell,” Ms. Kitty warned. “Give your body a chance to heal.”
“What have I done?” Annabelle moaned.
“Shhh,” Ms. Kitty brought her to her chest. “You right about one thing, Annabelle. We gon’ fight to the very end. Sometimes fighting back is the freedom you need.”
“And Jeremiah? What will the sheriff do now?” she looked up at her.
Ms. Kitty smoothed Annabelle’s hair back from her face. “You laid with him? Didn’t you?” she asked.