by Penny Hayes
She remained very still, suddenly afraid that if she moved, this beautiful woman would remove her hands — and she did not want that to happen. She did not want to lose this wonderful, strange closeness.
Yielding, she allowed Julia to pull her close.
As their bodies came together, Margarita savored the feel of Julia's cool skin against her own, the rigid nipples pushed high against her breasts. The sensation was electrical.
"Little Yellowthroat," Julia whispered tenderly.
Over the sound of the stream emptying into the pool from above, she heard Julia's breathing, fast and labored — like her own. In another second she would want to kiss this woman. Could she do such a thing? Kiss a woman? Impossible! And then she felt Julia's lips on her own. It was not impossible at all — and the feeling was explosive.
Julia pulled Margarita more firmly against her, kissing her as aggressively as any man had ever done. Yet this was entirely different from kisses Margarita had known before. Soft lips lingered on her own, warming her with pleasure, sending piercing needles of desire throughout her body.
Something new was happening to her. She had never placed value on such intimacy as this. There had been no reason to. She had had no expectations.
Until now.
Then Julia released her.
"I... I'm sorry," Julia stammered. "I just don't know what got into me."
Confused and bewildered, Margarita replied, "It's all right. It's nothing."
It was everything.
She swam toward the deeper area, diving to the coldest part of the pool to cool her burning body.
Almost instantly, the air between them became silent and strained. It was as if together they had chosen to close a door between themselves by the very act of Julia's kiss. Margarita returned to the pool's edge and climbed out.
Quietly they both dressed and soon were back at the cabin asleep, each in her own cot.
The tension between them continued into the following day and the next. No longer did they hold one another, and each was very careful not to touch the other. Swimming together had ceased.
Throughout the days that followed it became difficult for them to find things to discuss, even little things. They began to snap at each other, more and more frequently until one evening they found themselves shouting over who would go after a bucket of water.
"I fetched the water the last three times!"
"I don't give a damn. Fetch it again. I'm cooking."
"Go to hell!"
"You go to hell! Today! Right now!"
Julia returned with the bucket setting it down with a heavy thud. Half of its water slopped onto the ground. "Would you look at us, Margarita? Just listen to us. Two old hens going at it like we were mortal enemies. We aren't enemies, are we?"
"No, we aren't enemies," Margarita answered coolly, patting a tortilla shell between her palms. She paused to say thoughtfully, "But I don't know what we are."
"Friends — in spite of... things."
"Yes, we're still friends."
Margarita warmed slightly to Julia's more cordial tone, the first she had heard her use in days.
"Aren't we good enough friends to hold one another every now and then?" Julia asked. "And should a little kiss have frightened the very devil out of us?"
It had frightened the devil out of Margarita. And she didn't remember it being a little kiss at all. Maybe only Julia had thought so.
"It shouldn't," Margarita answered tentatively. She set the tortilla in a pan and turned to Julia as she brushed her hands against the sides of her pants.
They studied each other across the log that separated them. The head of the day had left the air motionless, the clouds unmoving, the horses standing stock still with drooping heads. The only thing stirring was the rapid beating of Margarita's heart and the racing of her blood.
It wasn't clear to Margarita who moved first but the log was no longer a barrier. Once again she was in Julia's arms.
"Why did we fight, Julia?" Margarita asked, fiercely holding Julia against her. She felt the past days' tension drain from her body.
"I don't know. We're afraid, I guess."
"Of what?"
"New things. New ideas. Let's not talk about it. Just let it be enough that we aren't fighting anymore."
They laughed a lot after that, and if they came in physical contact with each other, it was lightly. But Margarita deliberately created situations. And she thought that Julia did too.
Once again they enjoyed the pool together. Day or night. And it was all right to touch one another, to embrace if it pleased them. There was nothing to be afraid of. They were friends. Margarita loved having a good friend. Not since her childhood years had she had a good friend.
Time became a pleasant blur as days and nights turned into soft memories of walking the meadow with Julia, hand in hand, or with their arms around each other's waists, binding themselves to each other, and of nights sleeping together with tender gentleness and unexplained longings.
They sat together before the cabin one evening drinking terrible coffee. "We need supplies," Margarita said. "I can't boil these grains again. I might just as well be boiling sand. Sam will be back soon. He'll bring some fresh coffee."
"Maybe I can go home," Julia offered hopefully.
"I'll try to make him understand." Margarita reached out and squeezed her arm. "Let's go to the pool. It's hot."
They swam until the moon created rippling silver rings on the warm water's surface and the air became cold and crisp. Julia floated on her back near the edge. Margarita swam over to her side and began to dunk her.
"Don't!" was all Julia managed to shout before she was submerged.
Laughing loudly, Margarita pulled her to her feet. Julia gasped and sputtered, "Damn you, Margarita. You know I hate it when you do that." She clawed strands of dripping blonde hair away from her face. Suddenly she grabbed Margarita in a bear-like hug. "You're going to be sorry this time."
There was a playful struggle between them as Julia tried hopelessly to force Margarita beneath the surface. "You're getting under," she insisted. They wrestled and tumbled in the water, neither gaining, and finally the struggle was over. Neither had won. All they had managed to do was thrash about. Margarita rested against Julia, not yet letting go, still not trusting that she wouldn't be dunked.
Julia laughed and hugged Margarita to her. "That was fun. I won."
"You did not!"
"I did too."
"You never —"
"You talk too much."
"I don't...."
"Yes... you do."
Margarita did stop talking then, growing more and more still as Julia gazed down upon her. Frowning slightly, Margarita studied her friend. Julia wanted to kiss her again. Even in the dim light, she could read it in her eyes, feel it in her chest as it rose and fell against her own.
"Do you want to return to the cabin?" Julia asked in a low tone.
If she stepped back, Margarita knew that Julia would willingly release her. If she stepped back, she would not experience Julia's kiss, would never understand the feeling she had encountered so briefly that first time.
She breathed, "Not just yet, I don't think."
Julia's lips came down on her own. It was like before. Warm lips, terribly soft, making Margarita's head spin and her body feel as if it were not her own.
Inexplicably, Margarita had to fight putting her hands all over Julia's smooth body, but Julia was not so shy and began to kiss Margarita on her cheeks and eyes before kissing and nibbling on her neck. "My strong, strong lady."
"Julia," Margarita whispered. Her thoughts became less coherent as Julia's hands became more and more familiar. Suddenly as lost as a child, she allowed Julia to take over completely.
Julia caressed Margarita, delicately stroking her nipples, hardened not from cold water, but from Julia's fiery touch. New sensations unlike anything Margarita had ever known invade
d her. It was nearly impossible to remain standing as the water gently lapped around them, while the noise of the stream kept up its musical song.
Julia, a supporting arm around her waist, must have interpreted her mind. Margarita wanted to ... to do something. Unconsciously she thrust herself upward toward Julia.
Julia put a hand between Margarita's legs. An arm caught Margarita as her knees buckled, and held her steady, while strong fingers brazenly explored.
She was unable to speak, was barely able to do anything except breathe as Julia moved her fingers up and down in a slow and maddening pace, encompassing Margarita, searing her with the heat of passion.
Enflamed, Margarita moaned as a new rush of sensation grew, surpassing the last one, and the last, with each passing second until, for the first time in her life, she experienced an exploding climax that left her gasping and pulsating rhythmically inside, squeezing against Julia's fingers, with only Julia's strength holding her upright.
She could not lift her head from Julia's shoulder, could not even speak. There was a new captive at the meadow tonight.
She rested for an eternity against this unique lover, listening to impossible words spoken, wondering how Julia was so easily able to say them.
"I love you, Margarita."
"Love me? Is that possible?"
"Why not?"
"I'm a woman. How can you love me like that?"
Julia softly laughed and hugged Margarita, brushing her long hair from her shoulders. "I don't know. But it doesn't feel wrong, so I must assume it is right. It is very right for me."
"Have there been others?" Margarita asked in instant jealousy.
"No," came the slow reply. "But I've thought about women from time to time — and wondered about... things…"
Able to stand on her own again, Margarita said reflectively, "I still don't understand."
"Don't try to, darling. Don't even waste your time. Just love me and see," Julia murmured, and guided Margarita's hand to a waiting breast.
Filled with renewed desire, Margarita freely explored Julia with wonderment, intoxicated with the softness of Julia as a woman. Tentatively she bent her head to take a nipple between her lips. Julia gasped and buried her hands in Margarita's long wet hair.
Hesitating only for a moment, Margarita slid a hand across the slight roundness of Julia's belly, then ran both hands high across her buttocks, to her hips, and finally to the inside of her thighs, where flesh and hair met.
Holding her breath, Margarita sunk beneath the water, while Julia kept her hands firmly on her shoulders. The pool was pitch black beneath its surface, as if Margarita had entered a brand new world. She buried her face against Julia, wanting to run her tongue up and down her. The urge was strong in her to do it.
She rose and led Julia to the more shallow area of the ledge. Margarita knelt again before her. She separated Julia's lips, touching a tiny mound of flesh hidden therein and experimentally thrust her tongue forward. A surge of heat raced through her, forcing her to rise, gasping as if she had been submerged beneath the water for hours.
Julia was moaning softly, her fingers still entangled in Margarita's hair.
They kissed hard and fervently. Margarita whispered, "You are more beautiful than the mountains. More beautiful than the rising sun."
She moved a hand down toward that area on Julia that burned like a hot branding iron within Margarita herself, and she began to explore this new kind of lover the way she had been explored. So many hidden valleys and mountains in a woman. So many secretive places. So much to give.
Margarita sucked hungrily on Julia's breasts, cool and inviting in the night. She held wide the soft lips and stroked willing flesh, strong fingers sliding over every inch of her. Julia's coarse hair felt good against Margarita's wrist and palm.
From Julia's frenzied breathing and hip thrusts, Margarita realized that she was about to do what she herself had done; go where she had gone — where Julia had taken her. She held Julia tightly around the waist, listening to her ragged breathing. Margarita's fingers within her, Julia thrust her hips in steady, pulsating motion. Margarita was heady with exotic feeling. Her head spun wildly with the incredible beauty of the moment.
Julia crushed Margarita against her and gasped, "I love you, I love you, I love you."
Margarita marveled at Julia's words. Never had she heard them spoken with such ferocity; such deep conviction.
Time passed slowly before they could breathe normally. Then together they moved to sit on a rock near the pool's edge. Still shy, they tittered as they put their arms around one another.
Margarita snuggled against Julia, savoring the closeness. Within Julia's caring encircling arms, she sighed contentedly. Life was full of wonder, of unusual twists and turns. Life was not reliable, nor even close to predictable. Who could possibly foresee, even with great wisdom, how things might turn out from day to day, even moment to moment?
"How very angry I was with you the day you came for me," Julia said. She drew Margarita even closer. "I'm not angry anymore."
Margarita knew Julia smiled. She felt her shiver. They had been out in the night air too long. "We'd better go."
They dressed, pausing frequently to kiss and to touch. As they began their descent, Margarita's head was filled with thoughts of the night ahead, those thoughts already stirring her blood.
A quick glance toward Sam's cabin with its dully lit windows told Margarita that he had returned. Entering her own dwelling, she gave him no more thought as she and Julia turned to each other in the darkness and began to help one another undress.
Chapter Ten
By mid-afternoon the following day, a single white curtain trimmed with a three-inch strip of lace hung from the window of the cabin. The material was cut not from Margarita's dress, but from her pettiskirt. With skillful fingers, Julia had sewn the little curtain while Margarita had found a willow slim enough to act as a rod. Making the curtain was only a way to fill in the time until Sam arose. The domestic activity was something more positive to do than sit and wonder and worry about what the immediate future held for Julia now that he was back.
Toward evening Sam strolled in. He inspected the cabin. "Fetchin'. Very fetchin'," he said and then walked back outside.
Margarita followed him. "How was your trip?"
"We got problems," he replied. He looked toward the cabin, making sure Julia was out of earshot. "We can't operate with just the two of us. There's extra guards on all the stages now. Wells Fargo's pissed as all hell. They ain't lettin' up for a while. Months probably." He rolled a smoke, lit it, and inhaled deeply. "I don't know what we should do."
"Who told you this?"
"Jim Nelson. I saw him in Loma Parda. Saw the stage and its guards, too. It's loaded for coyote."
"More likely, outlaws."
“Yeah." Sam crushed the half-smoked cigarette beneath his boot and tucked his hands in his back pockets. "We could get another gang together. We'd need a lot more men."
"Not much point in it is there? We never made big money with four of us. It would be even less with more men."
"What do you want to do?"
"I don't know, Sam. I wanted to buy a piece of land. We've been robbing stages for two years and I'm only about half way toward having enough money. But I'll tell you something honestly. I didn't like watching Bill go like that. It scared the hell out of me."
"Probably scared him, too," Sam answered. "Right up until he died ... if he knew he was dyin'." He paused and then said, "Might go see my wife. Been a long time."
She wondered if Sam was dropping a broad hint that they disband. She wanted to bad enough. Still, the very idea gave her a crushing sense of defeat. She knew of no other way to earn the large amount of money that she needed. And how was she to continue taking care of her family?
"We still gotta deal with Julia, too," he added. "I'm glad to see you're both here."
Even though the words were expected
, they came as a titanic blow. Yes, a rational decision did need to be made concerning their captive; some solution arrived at.
He left her standing there with her fearfully imaginative thoughts and walked toward his dwelling. Margarita barely noticed.
Filled with foreboding, she returned to her cabin and took Julia in her arms, burying her face in the graceful curve of her neck. She inhaled a lingering, musky odor still clinging to both of them. They hadn't slept for more than an hour last night, had driven one another wild until dawn. Margarita drew Julia's face to her own, kissing her long and hard.
When their lips parted, Julia said, "I want to go home, Margarita. I'm going to see Sam and tell him."
"Let's just sit for a minute first, Julia. Sam's too tired to think, and I'm too scared." She took a seat on the nearest cot.
Joining her, Julia said strongly, "I want to go home — now. He can let me go. I've done everything I'm supposed to do to ... to behave properly, if I need to put it in such simple terms. You can guarantee I won't say anything, and so can I."
"I can't do it, Julia."
"Can't? Wasn't last night the start of something for us? Keep that before you. I want to live with you. I've already told you that I love you."
The words sounded almost silly to Margarita. "How can you possibly, Julia? I'm a woman. And a bandit, at that." Yes, what of that part of her life? Unexpectedly Margarita began to weep. She had done so many wrong things. But damn it, she had needed to.
Julia whispered, swaying the smaller woman back and forth while she held her tightly in her arms, "Perhaps it's your untamed strength that drew me to you."
"There are other strong women."
"None like Yellowthroat."
"A damn bird."
"A damn fool."
She was a damn fool. For a lot of reasons. One was caring too much for Julia Blake.
Margarita managed to talk Julia out of going to Sam before the following day. Then they waited until they saw him moving around later that afternoon.
"We need to talk, Sam," Julia announced as she stepped inside the door.