Race Johnson ran his bay gelding down the gravel bank and sped up the draw at full gallop. Looking over his shoulder, he glanced first one way, then the other. For the first time in hours, there was no sign of Apaches. But they might know a quicker route to wherever he was going. They undoubtedly knew the trail ahead better than he did.
He pulled his horse up, not wanting to kill it in the hot, waterless environment. He was in a gravel-strewn sandy gully with straight ten foot high walls on either bank. There were only two ways into the gully, in front or behind him. Of course there were a million ways to shoot him from concealment. Taking a chance he slowed the horse to a walk, patting his neck to quiet him. He studied the brush along the bank of the gully for any sign of movement or dust. There was nothing. He almost wished he could see them, then he’d know what he was fighting.
After half an hour of riding, Race rode down a long straight stretch of gully, looking for a way out. The sharp whine of a ricocheting bullet, preceded the distinctive bark of a winchester rifle. He slid off his horse and hid behind it, with his pistol in his hand. How the pistol got there, he was not quite sure. Suddenly he saw a figure stand and wave him forward with a rifle in his hand.
Race looked around anxiously, then waggled his own gun. He might be safe. As hard as it was to see, directly into the setting sun, he could tell it was a white man. He slid his colt back into the holster and remounted. There had been something strange about that figure. Sure, it was silhouetted in the sun, and he could make out no details, but still…
Race walked his horse forward, keeping an eye on the man above, while cursing him for alerting the Apache’s to his presence. He had been trying to lose them for the past day, and now they knew exactly where to find him.
“Up here,” the figure waved again. He sat up, suddenly alert. Now he knew what was peculiar, the voice was that of a woman, as was the silhouette in the sun. What the hell was a woman doing out here?
“Up here,” she called again.
“Shut up, damit! I have a herd of Apaches on my trail,” Race yelled up at her.
“Don’t worry, they would never enter the Citadel. It’s bad medicine for them. Lot’s of Indians died on this hill.”
The Citadel? Once known as an Indian stronghold, virtually unapproachable by anyone, it was now forbidden to them. Over 30 Apache’s had died of smallpox. Those who came afterwards to give the bodies a proper send-off died a few days later. It was rumored to be the sight of a rich gold mine. Could it be?
Race found a way up the hill. He kicked the gelding up the steep trail and came up by the rock where the girl stood. Girl she was, not much more than 18. She was cute, in a mannish sort of way. She had brown hair which had obviously been stuffed up under her hat. She had a sprinkle of freckles and a slender, boyish figure. Her worn levis showed the signs of much work. Her white and blue striped shirt was torn under her left elbow and the collar was worn and slightly dirty. It was much cleaner than Race’s shirt. The rifle in her hands gleamed with the brightness of a newly-cleaned weapon.
“Howdy,” he said, touching the brim of his hat.
“Back at ya,” she said, snapping the brim of her own hat and turning away. He kicked his gelding forward. It was content to follow along behind her. Race couldn’t help but notice how nice her ass looked in those men’s pants. She filled them out nicely. He grew aware of the sound of an axe striking wood, followed by the smell of a fire.
“I haven’t been able to stop and eat in two days,” he said, sniffing appreciatively. He saw their camp on the bank of a small stream, in front of a row of huge cottonwoods. The leaves were beginning to turn yellow on the ancient trees. Fall was fast approaching.
“Beautiful!” Race said with feeling.
“It is,” the girl agreed, stepping on large stones placed in the stream to get them across it. She stopped near the fire and leaned her gun against a log. The man stopped chopping, wiped sweat from his face and nodded with a smile.
“Howdy,” Race said amiably.
“Hi. Long ride?”
“Hell, this is a long ride from anywhere. I got here just a jump ahead of a bunch of Apaches. I was glad to hear it was the Citadel. I’ve had enough of Indians for a while.
“Don’t blame you. We’ve had our problems too. Oh, they won’t bother us in the valley, but we need to hunt and haul in supplies from time to time. They always seem to know where and when.”
“Their wily,” Race agreed, sliding off his gelding. He nearly came up against the shapely girl. She looked him over with an impish grin. He felt like a side of beef. He suddenly noticed how her nipples were poking through the thin material of that shirt. His cock hardened immediately. He turned to his horse, fussing with the saddle to cover his hardness. He tossed the saddle over a log and trailed the horse out and staked him in a good patch of grass.
Race washed up in the stream, redressed and made his way back to camp. He noticed the absence of their horses. They undoubtedly had a corral somewhere. He would ask about it later. As Race turned back to the fire, he was amazed to see it was growing dark already.
Yellow flames lit the man and his daughter. She sat a coffee pot on the fire and stood with a hand on her hip. Race took the time to look her over carefully, and he liked what he saw. If he could just get her off by herself… Knowing that old man… well all of 40 or more, he would probably shoot Race first and ask his intentions later.
Race licked his lips and ran his hand over his chin. He needed a woman in the worst kind of way, but in those dirty clothes and without a shave, there was virtually no chance of getting her. Maybe he should ask the old man’s permission. Race moved on toward the fire. A gentle breeze blew down off the mountains. It was the first trace of coolness he had felt all day. It would grow cold soon.
“Sit and eat,” the man said. They talked long into the night, both parties starving for news, and companionship. The man’s name was John Lloyd Chism. His daughter was Agnes, but her father called her Dirty. It was always nice to meet another man… and woman. They finally rolled up in their blankets to sleep.
As Race started to close his eyes, he glanced at Agnes. She gave him a big smile and a wink, then adjusted her blanket, allowing it to come open so most of her fabulous breasts showed in the firelight. Race glanced over her shoulder at John, but he seemed to be paying them no mind.
Race knew he would have a visitor in the night, so he set his mind to not shooting the first hand which touched him. As it turned out, it wasn’t a hand.
Race dreamed of fire breathing dragons. He dreamed of firing a gun so powerful, that he shot the dragons from the sky and became the hero of all the women of the world. His dream was disturbed by a movement against him. He reached out and touched warm, soft skin. His eyes flew open in surprise. Belatedly he remembered where he was.
“Who else?” she asked sarcastically.
Race was startled by the fact that she was naked. Wasn’t she afraid that her father would find out?
“Aren’t you afraid your father will hear?”
“Why should I be afraid. I’m full grown,” she whispered with her mouth near his. He sought her lips in the darkness. Their kiss was hot and urgent. Race’s hands ran over her gloriously naked body. It felt unreal after going over a year without a woman. She was so damned soft, he thought as he held her firm breasts in his hands. He slid the blanket over her and quickly began stripping. Shivering in the cold, he slid naked beneath the blanket. She felt so good against his bare skin. His cock was pressing into the valley between her ass cheeks.
Agnes turned her head and found his lips again. He liked the way her back molded against him. It was like a bullet and a mold. As they kissed he moved enough to rub his cock in the crack of her ass. He was so worked up he was shaking. His hands nervously explored her body in the darkness. She moaned and thrust her ass back against him.
Agnes broke the kiss, rolled him over on his back and straddled his body. With a gasp of restrained passion, she touched her moist pussy to his raging cock. Without hesitation she sank down on his cock. He slid easily up inside her, feeling all the warmth and steamy moisture of her vagina wrapped around him. He could feel slight movement of her vagina as it squeezed him. She rocked gently, forward and back, while placing her hands on his lightly-haired chest. He liked it that way. Although he couldn’t see her in the darkness, he could see her outline against the stars.
The entire encounter was very erotic. Making love to her while her father slept just a few feet away presented it’s challenges. He liked to make a little noise when he fucked a woman, as she obviously did too. But they had to remain completely silent with John sleeping less than 12 feet away. Another hazard was the fire. Even though it had sank to nothing more than gleaming embers, it could flare up at any moment.
With the blanket over her body like a squaw, Agnes rode quietly on his rock hard penis. She kneaded his firm muscles in her hands. Her wet vagina slid up and down on his cock, making only the slightest slick wet sound as it did. He was fabulous, large and hard, throbbing up deep inside her. Race was just what she was looking for, just what her poor pussy needed. She was getting so horny that even her father started looking good to her, and her father didn’t even like women.
“Oh,” he whispered, suddenly stiffening. Sensing his impending orgasm, Agnes threw caution to the wind and rocked rapidly on his prone body. He gritted his teeth and endured her attack. They came together in one glorious heavenly flash of passion. Before they knew it they both lay tired and fulfilled.
Pages: 1 2