The Ballad of Wrangler Jane

The following is a work of erotic fiction and includes scenes of sexual activity. It includes characters that are copyrighted by ABC - TV. This story is intended for the non-commercial enjoyment of fans and should be considered a parody . No copyright infringement is intended and no profit will be made from the distribution of this story.

*****

"Honestly, Wilton Parmenter, sometimes I don't know why I put up with you." The pretty blonde woman thundered as she stormed out of the Captain's quarters. With a quick leap, she threw her leg over the chestnut mare tied outside and hopped up and onto it. A strong pull against the reins unhitched her.

"But Jane..." Stammered the young man in cavalry blue who followed her out the door a few seconds later, only to be cut off as he tripped over a loose floorboard on the porch. Falling forward, he somersaulted over the hitching post and into the dirt street, knocking himself unconscious.

"Captain!" Cried out Morgan O'Rourke, the troop's senior NCO as he ran across the compound, followed close behind by Corporal Agarn.

At the sound of the Sergeant's voice, the buckskin clad woman turned the horse she had just mounted and looked down on the sprawled officer.

"Is he all right?" She asked the Sergeant as he bent down and examined his commanding officer.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head, Wrangler." The Irishman said. "He just had the wind knocked out of him. A little cold water will bring him right around."

"Do me a favor O'Rourke." She said as she jerked the reins and aimed her horse at the main gate. "Give me a few seconds to get out of here before you do."

With that, she spurred her horse and galloped the length of the fort. She didn't even look back before she disappeared out the main gate.

"She was sure fired up about something." O'Rourke noted.

"Guess we'd better wake the Captain up." Agarn said.

O'Rourke pointed to the nearby horse troth and the Corporal responding by filling his light colored hat up with water from it.

"You know, if we put the troth back over there," He said, pointing to the empty space in front of the hitching post with the water filled hat. "He'd at least have something to break his fall. At least it always used to."

"Good idea, Agarn." The taller man replied. "Have Vanderbilt and Hoffenmeuller move it right after lunch."

"Sure thing, Sarge." He answered as he poured the water onto the face of the unconscious Captain.

"Blluu...bluuu...Jane...I..." Wilton Parmenter gasped as the icy coldness snapped him awake.

"Easy sir," O'Rourke said as he and Agarn helped the now soaked Captain to his feet.

"Where's Jane?" He asked when he noticed that her horse was gone.

"She shot out of here madder than a bear in a hornet's nest." Agarn said as he slapped his now wet headpiece against his trousers. "That must've been some dilly of an argument the two of you had."

"Agarn!" The Sergeant snapped in reproach.

The Corporal quickly shut up. It wasn't often that Morgan O'Rourke lost his temper. But when he did, the last thing Randolph Agarn ever wanted was to be on the receiving end of it.

"To be honest, she was somewhat angry, Captain." O'Rourke said in a milder tone. "But she did make sure that you were ok before she took off."

"It really didn't start out as an argument." Captain Parmenter said. "We were just chatting and then out of the blue Jane suggested how much nicer it would be if she just moved in here with me."

Both NCOs just listened quietly. If the Captain felt like sharing his problems, then they'd be more than willing to listen. The same would be true if he just wanted to be left alone.

"I quickly explained that it was impossible. I mean, we've only known each other a little over a year now. It'll be at least another year before we even get engaged. What would people think if they knew we were living together? What would my mother say? They all think we were...well...you know."

O'Rourke was genuinely surprised at the Captain's admission. He wondered if he was misinterpreting it. Since the Captain had brought it up, it seemed only fair to inquire.

"I take it then that you and Wrangler have never...what I mean is that the two of you..." The broad shouldered Irishman asked.

"Certainly not." Parmenter said quickly. "We'd have to be married to do that."

O'Rourke took a deep breath and could see the same thought reflected in Agarn's eyes. Wilton Parmenter was naive about a lot of things. He had become the commanding officer of F Troop and Fort Courage based on his turning a retreat into a successful cavalry charge in the closing days of the civil war.

O'Rourke himself had risen to the temporary rank of Captain during the war, only to drop back to Sergeant following the peace. He had preferred it that way. Parmenter, on the other hand, was the youngest son of one of the premier Army families. His medal had been big news and with it came the promotion and F Troop. Yet, from what he had heard from someone who had actually been there, that order to charge had actually been a sneeze.

Still, even knowing his background, O'Rourke found this new piece of information unbelievable. Over two thousand miles from his Philadelphia home, the Captain was still trying to live by the rules of polite society. Out here in the badlands, there were few white woman available. Far fewer that looked as desirable as Wrangler Jane . There wasn't another man in five hundred miles, O'Rourke included, who wouldn't run to her bed if she had offered. Yet she had offered far more than that to the Captain, and he had turned her down. Incredible.

"If you like Captain, we could have Dobbs and Duffy ride out after her." The Sergeant said, changing the subject. "She was headed away from town, out towards the Hakowie camp. It'll be dark in a few hours."

"No, better let her get it all out of her system." The Captain said as he turned and headed back into his office. "She'll be all right. After all, she rides and shoots better than any man in the troop."

With that, he closed the door to his quarters behind him.

Morgan O'Rourke stood there for a minute, staring at the hard wood door. He didn't say a word until Agarn reminded him that they had to get the latest shipment of O'Rourke Enterprises souvenirs off to Dodge City.

"Incredible." O'Rourke softly repeated to himself before talking off after Agarn towards the NCO club.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

An hour or so later, Wrangler Jane was watering her horse alongside the banks of the small river that defined the edge of the Hakowie Reservation. She had ridden the mare much too hard in her dash from the fort. It would be at least another hour before she headed back. She was still angry. Both at Wilton and at herself. At Wilton, for his stubborn refusal to abandon his families old-fashioned idea. At herself, for letting him get away with it for so long.

"I don't even care if he never married me, Sparkle." She said to her mare as she gently stroked it. "I know his family would never approve of me. I only wish that he'd give me what I need."

Jane knew that Wilton was a virgin, he had told her that. He never asked her if she was, it wasn't the sort of question a gentleman asked. If he had, she wondered if she would give him the answer he expected, or the truth. She'd been with a man before and found it a totally forgettable experience. Still, it had gotten her out of her home back east. For the use of her body, the man had gotten her as far as St. Louis. From there, it was easy to find men willing to take her further.

A few of had stirred something inside of her, but she had always felt something had been missing. No man would deny she was attractive, but most were put off by her assertiveness. They wanted nothing to do with a woman who could out ride, out shoot and was in many other ways more man than they were.

That was one of the reasons she had to get away from her family back east. They kept trying to get her to fit the mold of what a proper young lady should be. A role she felt she was born to rebel against. A lifetime ago, she had been Jane Angelica Thrift. The Thrifts of course were welcome in the finest homes of New York, Boston and Philadelphia. That girl had died in the bed of a man who's name she couldn't even remember. In her place had been born Wrangler Jane.

If she had been born a man instead of a woman then her life would've been much different. Then her qualities would have been appreciated. She sometimes wished that she had been born such. She would've been much better off. Of course then Wilton would've had to have been born a woman instead as well. But that might've suited him too. He would make a better woman than man.

A sudden sound from behind the long row of bushes caused her to crouch down and pull out her six-shooter. The quick fluid motion of which was the envy of every man she knew. Tying Sparkle's reins to the shrub, she carefully moved to higher ground.

Stepping slowly, she silently climbed an outcrop of boulders, giving her a view of the riverbank below. Looking down, she saw the source of the noise. Standing naked in the shallow edge of the water was a young Indian maiden. Her long black hair stretched down to the cheeks of her ass. She was very pretty by both white and Indian standards. Small but full breasts stood firm in the late afternoon sun. Her entire body was a sun kissed brown, showing that she spent a great deal of time like she was now. Between her legs was a small batch of black hair. Jane wondered if the smallness of the area was natural or if the maiden trimmed it as Jane did her own. She couldn't have been, Jane guessed, more than 18 or 19.

Wanting to get a better look, Jane carefully shimmied down the rocks. The girl's back was now to her so she took a chance and bolted to the edge of the bushes. Stepping on a dry twig, Jane was certain that she had given herself away. But the girl never turned.

Now secure in her new vantage point, the 25 year old sat quietly and watched. And as she watched, old familiar, but long buried feelings, once more surfaced.

The soft skinned girl ran her wet hands up and down the length of her body. She pressed the roundness of her breasts, rubbing the small nipples until they were hard.

Under her buckskin blouse, Wrangler felt her own nipples stiffen. That was the unspoken reason she had felt home. Aside from being more man than many men she had met, she also sometimes felt a man's attraction for a woman. It was years before she learned to accept those feeling. Even longer before she had acted on them. One night in Dodge City she had paid a young prostitute to sleep with her. It had been one of the most exciting times of her life. But she had been determined not to become a frequenter of whores. She remembered all too well the look of disgust the harlot had given her when she left her room the next morning. Still, the unnaturalness of the act hadn't prevented her from taking the money.

Instead she had buried the urges. It had been easy enough. After all, most of the women she met out here in the west were either whores or settler's wives. Neither of which held much attraction for her. Of course there was always the occasional daughter that would catch her fancy, but those opportunities usually never presented themselves. They wanted husbands, the sooner the better. Most nights she would satisfy herself with their images in her mind.

Then she had found Wilton Parmenter. A man feminine enough to not be bothered by her masculinity. It only he wasn't so tied up in the propriety of things.

The small hands of the Indian girl were now situated between her legs. Wrangler knew that if she could get closer she would be able to see that the girl had her fingers up inside herself. The look on her face was proof of that. The wetness there must be the equal of Wrangler's own.

Finally, not able to keep still any longer, Wrangler slid her own hand down into her trousers. A soft moan escaped her lips as she gently stroked her moistness. It felt so good. Memories of that girl in Dodge filled her mind's eye. Those and the thought of how much more wonderful it might be to actually touch the warm softness of the girl before her.

Standing up, she took a few steps out into the open. The Indian maid was again turned away from her and didn't see her at first. Then out of the corner of her eyes she saw the buckskin clad figure.

Yelling out something in a language Wrangler didn't understand, the Indian dove down towards a loose squaws dress left on a nearby rock. Rather than trying to cover herself, she emerged from the pile with a long knife in her hand and assumed a combative stance.

Wrangler reacted automatically to the appearance of the knife and had her gun in hand without even thinking about it. There they stood, less than a dozen feet apart, with weapons drawn.

"This is silly." Wrangler thought as she looked down at the gun and then at the knife in the maiden's hand. "And it could turn into something dangerous very fast."

With than she reholstered her weapon and held both her hands up and palms outward. She shook her head and left her hat fall free, revealing her long tied blonde tresses.

"You are a woman." The maiden said as she lowered the knife.

"My name is Wrangler Jane."

"The trading woman from the fort. I know of you." Came the reply. "But I always thought you must be old and ugly to have such a name."

"Hardly." Jane said dryly.

"I am Singing Deer, daughter of Roaring Chicken of the Hakowie."

Jane thought for a moment and remembered meeting the old medicine man at some function or other at the fort.

"I've met your father." She said.

An awkward silence held for a few seconds until Singing Deer said.

"I have never seen hair such as yours, the color of the sun. It is very beautiful."

"Thank you." Wrangler said.

With that she reached up and pulled out the leather thong that held it in place and let her hair fall around her shoulders.

"That is much better." Commented the maiden.

"I'm didn't mean to disturb your privacy," Jane said, trying to think of something to fill the void. "I didn't think that I was that close to the Hakowie Camp."

"The camp is still two hours walk from here." Singing Deer said as she dropped the blade and stepped closer to Wrangler Jane. "I sometimes come to this place to be by myself and think."

"And to please yourself." Jane said without thinking as her gaze shifted from the small brown breasts to the dark wet patch below. Singing Deer paused for a moment and then continued.

"As the daughter of the medicine man, I am promised to whoever becomes the next Chief of the Hakowies. But as Crazy Cat will most certainly tell you, it will be many, many moons before Wild Eagle goes to the happy hunting ground. Until that time, it is written that no man may touch me."

"Can't be much fun." Jane said.

"It is not." The young girl said softly.

"Well I can understand that." Jane said sympathetically. "But maybe I can help." The tall young woman looked confused as Jane's smile grew brighter.

"I may not be touched by a man, not even a white man." She repeated, thinking that Jane was planning to take her into town.

"But I am not a man." Jane grinned, thankful for the first time in her life that she was able to say that. Softly rubbing her hand against the moist mound between Singing Deer's long tanned legs, Jane quickly replaced the look of confusion with one of delight. Taking the quiet moans as encouragement, Jane removed her hand and reached up and undid the laces of her blouse. Singing Deer watched in fascination as it fell away, exposing the large pale pink breasts beneath. Even more fascinating to her was the blonde bush that was revealed when Wrangler's pants joined her shirt on the ground.

Jane sighed as Singing Deer reached out and placed her hands against her melon sized mounds. The nipples were rock hard and the touch of her slender fingers sent shivers through Jane's body. The younger woman experimentally ran her fingers back and forth across them, delighting in the soft sounds emanating from the white woman's throat.

Wrangler looked into the girl's eyes, quickly loosing herself in their deepness. She hesitantly lowered her mouth to the Indian's. It was a light , tentative kiss at first. She knew the Hakowie, like most Indian tribes, had never had a kissing tradition. She was unsure how Singing Deer would react.

Feeling the soft pressure of her kiss returned, Jane pressed her tongue against the opening of Singing Deer's mouth. The younger girl opened her mouth instinctively and quickly tongue met tongue.

While their tongues slide back and forth, Jane cupped Singing Deer's breasts. Then she bent down and replaced her hands with her mouth. The caress of her warm mouth sent a string of words running from the Hakowie that Jane didn't understand. The tone however, was unmistakable. That and the slight pressure against Jane's head as she was again guided to the hard dark brown nipples.

Wrangler nuzzled at each breast for a while longer, then began a journey downward. A light film of saliva marked the trail of her tongue as it moved down Singing Deer's stomach and across her belly button. Lower she went, nibbling her way to the girl's womanhood.

Reaching the now thoroughly saturated patch, Jane took a moment to relish the aroma. An aroma she hadn't savored for a long time. She kissed each thigh, again and again, before moving on to her prize.

It began as a flicker. Then a touch. Finally a long loving caress. She could feel Singing Deer's body react to each stroke as she ran her tongue across her clit over and over.

Singing Deer began to buckle and spasm as Jane increased the intensity of her tongue's attack. She slid her free hand down between her own legs and slid first one, then two and finally three fingers within herself. She quickly matched the tempo of her fingers to that of her tongue.

Sweat ran down the Indian's body as she shook with each new ecstatic jolt. She could feel the rising crest within her and knew that her first orgasm at the hands of another was near.

Wrangler darted her tongue in and out of Singing Deer's tunnel of love, causing the waves of pleasure cascading up and down the younger girl's body to double. The harder Jane moved her tongue, the faster the waves repeated

Faster and faster the waves washed over Singing Deer, each bringing her closer to an explosion . Tears ran down her cheeks as she tried to delay the fire within her so that she could enjoy each second.

With a yell, the Hakowie maiden climaxed as she had never done by her own hand. Her small body shook for endless seconds as she took in every aspect of her rapture.

Jane followed with her own orgasm seconds later as her fingers covered with her wetness. A much softer cry on her lips.

Both women collapsed to the ground, entangled in each other's arms. Silently they laid there, caressing and kissing each other's body.

Time passed slowly as the rays of the sun faded on the horizon. The silver moon replaced the golden sun in the sky and a chill appeared in the air.

Singing Deer built a fire and Jane produced a couple of blankets from her saddle roll. Together, they huddled naked beneath the blankets, keeping each other warm.

The spend the night talking and making love once more. This time Singing Deer brought the same pleasure to Jane that Jane had brought her.

By early morning when Jane dropped her newfound lover off within a five minute walk to her home, they had already made plans to meet again in a week. In that time, Singing Deer planned to teach the other women of her village what she learned.

Wrangler Jane on the other hand had made a promise to herself that one way or another, Wilton was going to give her what she was due. Even if she had to tie him down first to do it.