“Oh, yes indeed, my love.” Thomas opened the covers of their narrow bunk and patted the empty space next to him. “Now come back to bed.”
Olga turned back to the trunk and began to close the lid. “Oh, my.” She stopped and stared down into the trunk. “Oh, dear, I seem to have forgotten something.”
“What?”
She began to scoop all of the clothes out of the trunk and dumped them on the unused upper bunk.
“What?” Thomas repeated.
“This.” She pointed to the bottom of the trunk.
Thomas, unable to imagine what they had forgotten, stepped out of the bunk. In his birthday suit, he stood beside Olga and peered at the bottom of the empty trunk.
“What is it?”
She fingered a loose corner and pulled up a section of the bottom. Revealed below the piece of loose fabric, Thomas spied a collection of gold and silver coins under the false bottom.
“Oh my word, how much is there?
“Over a hundred dollars.”
“And, you knew it was there all along?”
“Well,” she became sheepish, “yes.”
“And why didn’t you tell me?” He strained to make his voice sound cross, though he was actually overjoyed.
“Well, we weren’t married and it didn’t seem to be something that I should share. And then, I sort of, uh, forgot about it in all the excitement.” She swallowed and quickly added, “You’re not mad, are you?”
He reached in and fingered the coins.
“It would have been nice to know how valuable this trunk really was. And, I have been worried about running out of the meager funds I had. Knowing we had this money would have been quite a comfort.”
He continued to lecture her while holding her eyes with his own steely glare. Then, he picked up the paddle.
“This oversight deserves a spanking.” He lightly smacked the flat of the paddle against his palm and sat on the bunk. He patted his thigh.
As the color drained from her face, Olga huffed, but obediently draped her body across his lap. He admired her taut alabaster skin. He gently caressed her smooth derrière. Thomas decided to temper his response. He hadn’t told Olga how much money he carried either.
“No real harm was done. So, I will make this more of a maintenance spanking. However, I see now that such spanking reminders are going to become commonplace.” He placed the paddle on the bunk and lightly patted her bottom.
“Yes, Sir.”
Thomas smiled with his wife’s submissive answer. He began spanking her with his palm. His swats were firm, but only intended to raise a pink hue on her flesh. She moaned, but did not struggle as he pelted every square inch of her backside. He admired the way her bottom quivered with each smack. While he had spanked her three times before, those had always been times where he could not fully appreciate the beauty of her nakedness. He swatted her again with a tiny bit of extra force. She squealed while he watched the white handprint appear on her pink bottom.
When he shifted to her tender sit-spots, her body recoiled and squirmed over his lap. His cock twitched with the motion. Inhaling, he sensed her arousal as well.
He continued to spank her upper thighs with his fingers striking very close to her lady parts. His cock firmed and pressed into her belly. In response, she wiggled all the more.
Finally, he could stand it no more. He halted her discipline, but left his fingertips touching the puffy outer folds of her pussy. His cock throbbed as he gently opened her rosy petals. His fingers dipped into her moisture.
“I see that you want to be a good girl, now.”
“Yes, Sir. I want to be a very good girl.”
His cock twitched with the sound of her words. He slipped two fingers into her opening.
“We are married now. And this,” he slowly pumped his fingers out and then in deeper, “this is all mine now. Darling, you will present this sweet pussy for my use, whenever I desire it.”
“Yes, Sir.” She clenched her muscles around his fingers.
Removing his hand, he lifted her shoulder. As she stood, he stood alongside of her. He held her naked body firmly against him. His cock strained as he pinned his member between them.
Holding her face cupped in his hands, he kissed her. He was tender at first, but soon parted her lips and sucked her tongue into his mouth in an effort to consume her. As their tongues danced, his cock twitched between them. He parted their lips.
“I’m afraid that I must have you. Now,” he said.
She mewed and slipped from his arms. She lay on the bunk, pushing the covering to the floor. Lifting her knees, she spread open her thighs, giving herself to him.
With drops of pre-cum dripping from his tip, he slipped himself deep inside her with one long, slow stroke. She gasped and her eyes flew wide open as he reached her deepest secrets. She wrapped her legs around him. Pinning her heels into his butt, she rocked back and forth with the force of his thrusts.
“Sorry, I can’t help it,” Thomas whispered. “I need you so badly, my love.”
He had wanted to extend their lovemaking into a long session filled with her orgasms. However, his climax was approaching with uncontrollable speed. Strain as he might, he was not going to be able to hold it back.
Halting his attempts to thwart his reflexive needs, he plunged into Olga’s hot, wet channel deep and hard. His hips pounded against her, claiming her body with his own. His cock sought to drive ever deeper to release his seed.
“Oh my God,” Olga sighed, and he felt her body quiver underneath him. She gripped his cock with her pussy.
Instantly, his climax exploded. His cock furiously pumped his come deep into her core.
Thomas imagined how beautiful Olga would be pregnant with his child. He dreamed of holding his loving wife and child snug in his arms.
THE END
Historical Notes
The massive westward migration of pioneers during the mid-19th century significantly shaped the character of the United States. Not to mention the endless plots it provided for TV shows, movies, and books. It is estimated that a half million people took the 2,000 mile trip through the untamed territories between 1843 and 1869 and each one had a life changing experience. Note that the total US population in 1850 was only 23 million people. There is no accounting of the explosive volume of people that moved westward with the completion of the Transcontinental Railroad in 1869.
I find it fascinating that modern surveyors laying down the routes of highways and interstates could find no better path through the mountains than that discovered by the fur trapping Mountain Men of the early 1800s. Anyone can travel much of the Oregon Trail today. You can see many of the landscapes viewed by our ancestors. However, there are many scenes that have drastically changed.
There were many starting points for the journey west, but you can begin your journey from Council Bluffs in far western Iowa. Cross the Missouri River and head west on I-80. Exit onto US-26 at Ogallala, Nebraska, and follow the North Platte River to I-25 at Glendo, Wyoming. At Casper, Wyoming, the Oregon Trail travelers crossed the North Platte River to continue westward. There is little more than sagebrush and cactus along the 300 mile stretch of Wyoming between Casper and Fort Bridger. There was nothing that caused anyone to build a highway. However, from Casper you can continue along Poison Spider Road (aka Rt. 201) to Rt. 319 which will lead you to Independence Rock (you’ll need a GPS, a good map, and a jeep for parts of this route).
An easier road to travel from Casper to Independence Rock is Hwy 220 which will still give you much of the look and feel of the desolate land these people endured. From Independence Rock, continue on Hwy. 220 along Sweetwater River. The highway diverges from the river, but if you turn west onto US-287, you will rejoin the Oregon Trail. At Sweetwater Station, near the junction with Rt. 135, you will have to do as the men and women of the 1800s did—you will have to continue across the South Pass on foot. Don’t forget that GPS and trusty map.
Alternately, you can continu
e northwest on US-287 and turn onto Rt. 28 to cross the Continental Divide at Atlantic City, Wyoming. This will take you back to the Oregon Trail as you enter Farson, Wyoming. When Rt. 28 ends, turn south onto Rt. 372 and follow this to I-80, and then ride I-80 to Fort Bridger. Note that the emigrants took a straight path to Fort Bridger from Farson. At Evanston, Wyoming, turn north on Rt. 89, which becomes Rt. 76 when you cross into Utah. Before long you will re-enter Wyoming and turn north on US-30. Follow this to I-15, and then turn west on I-86. This intersection in Idaho is very near the location of Fort Hall. Continue on I-86/84 to the Oregon state line and all the way into Portland, Oregon.
You made it.
So many people did not. In 1852 it was estimated that ten percent of the emigrants perished along the Trail. However, only a few graves remain. It is believed that the Indians dug up the dead to take their clothing. In 1848, the year of my story, the trading posts at Forts John, Bridger, and Hall were the only refuges that the travelers would have found. For entertainment’s sake, I have elaborated upon the services that might have been found at Fort John (aka Fort Laramie). In later years, the US Army took control of these and other locations creating military forts for the protection of the emigrants. While numerous Indian attacks upon the emigrants have been recorded, considering the volume of traveler these attacks were really quite rare. Additionally, numerous settlements sprang up along the Trail and steamships replaced the rafts on the Columbia River. Thus, those who ventured west in the 1860s had a vastly easier trip. Unfortunately, the Army was cruel to the Indians and this precipitated the Indian wars of the 1870s.
With so many people making the trek, it is not surprising that there were many firsthand accounts of the trip published. A very significant contributor to this body of work was Ezra Meeker. He wrote of his 1852 adventure heading west, and then again returning east in 1907. In an effort to preserved the heritage of the Oregon Trail, 79-year-old Mr. Meeker returned east along the route he remembered. Once again, he traveled in an ox driven covered wagon. He placed stone markers at many waypoints and several of these still exist. Much of what we know about the location of the Trail came from Meeker. As modern civilization swamped the exact locations of his simple markers, many communities erected new markers commemorating the existence of the Trail, and Meeker’s effort. A few of the markers, like the one at Pacific Springs, is still exactly the way Meeker left it over a hundred years ago.
In many places where it almost never rains—the high deserts of Wyoming, Idaho, and eastern Oregon—the original wagon ruts can still be seen. I have traveled much of the Trail—in a car as described above. I have had the privilege of climbing over Independence Rock, seeing the graves of fallen travelers, crossing the South Pass, and walking in the ruts of our ancestors’ prairie schooners.
In addition to my own experiences, I borrowed many ideas from the firsthand accounts to create my story. However, I had to shift the time and place of these to weave them in to my tale of Thomas and Olga Meyer. For example, Meeker described the murder of one man, and the impromptu trial and hanging of his attacker. While Meeker did not provide the identities of these men, I used this story as the basis for Peter’s murder and the hanging of Mr. Bloomfield.
The Indian attack on the Clark party was real. However, it was Mrs. Clark that was killed in the attack. Thus, Mr. Clark and his sister Grace were the actual survivors.
Catherine Sager’s story is also real, however I adjusted parts of it. In reality, she and her siblings were orphaned while traveling through Idaho in 1844. Narcissa and Marcus Whitman adopted them. Narcissa was the first woman to complete the journey along the Oregon Trail in 1836. While it actually occurred in 1847, my description of how they were massacred is accurate. I used the real life experiences of Lorinda Bewley and Catherine to describe the abuses of Mrs. Howe and Olga. I did take romantic liberties in describing the quick end of the hostage situation.
Thomas’s romantic ideals written in his letter to his mother and his wedding with Olga were taken from letters Lucas Van Orden wrote to his family. He was a Wisconsin settler who yearned for a wife and talked about the foolishness of setting out for the California gold fields. He married Jane Struthers in 1855 in Wisconsin.
I hope you enjoyed my story, and I hope that you gained an appreciation for the extraordinary American spirit found in these pioneers.
About the Author
Sterling Scott
Sterling Scott writes of his imagined adventures within the backdrop of actual historical events. While some of his stories are more fictional that others, he likes to entwine real events into a new version of how it should have happened. Additionally, he includes experience from his own life and those friends have shared with him.
When not writing, Sterling travels the highways and visits his children. He spends a lot of time playing with his first grandchild.
Visit his website here:
Amazon.com/author/sterlingscott
Also by Sterling Scott and Blushing Books!
Lady Detective Series
Miss Rowan Learns Her Lesson, Book 1
Margaret and the Train Robber, Book 2
A Snooper’s Reward, Book 3
The Pimlico Affair, Book 4
Single Titles
South Pass Brides
My Pirate Wife
Rescuing Diana
Love On A Forbidden Planet
Prairie Passions - Co-authored with Savannah Rollins
The Counterfeit Confederate
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