Tumbleweeds Ch. 02

I have tried to make my grammar and vocabulary suit the era and the setting as much as possible. I don't think I was too successful with it. I didn't want it to be too hokey. But, you're the judges. Let me know what you think. Comments and votes are always appreciated.

All participants in the sexual activity are over the age of 18.

There is minimal sex in this chapter.

*****

My cum stopped flowing, probably sooner than I thought since I lost all sense of time with these goings on going on. Ma licked what cum on her face she could reach with her tongue. She used her fingers to gather up what she couldn't reach.

"Ma, does that taste good? Rick's stuff?"

"Yes, honey, it tastes very good. Do you want a taste?" asked Ma, holding a cum covered finger up to my sister.

Very tentatively, Sissy leaned down to lick my cum from my mother's finger.

"Do you like it?" I asked.

"It's kinda okay," Sissy responded.

Ma cleaned us all up with the towel. It was full on dark by this time so we picked our way back to the house careful not to trip. I slept in the bed that night. So did Ma.

We were off for town early the following morning. I had hooked up the buckboard to our single horse which trudged down the trail that would eventually intersect with a major trail that ran between our nearest town and the major town a few days travel away. We had a good horse, a gelding, seventeen hands high, but it wasn't a fan of wagon hauling.

Traveling in the country was not generally dangerous those days but a man needed to be wary. Trouble could pop up at any time. Keeping my head on a swivel, I was on guard for that dangerous occurrence.

I saw a dust cloud behind us almost as soon as we hit the main trail. I kept a close eye on the quickly advancing cloud that indicated someone riding behind us at a faster pace than our horse was pulling our wagon.

Soon enough, the source of the cloud became evident. It was a buckboard wagon being hauled by two horses. It belonged to people we knew as our neighbours. They were fortunate enough to own two horses which explained their overhauling us.

When they were close upon us, I stopped the wagon to await them. Exchanging greetings on the open trail was the neighbourly thing to do. While waiting for the last few yards of travel, I poured water from our canteen into my hat, giving our horse a drink.

On the other wagon seat were a man and woman. I expected there to be three since the family consisted of a father, mother, and son. I raised my hand in a friendly greeting.

Once stopped right behind us, the three women gathered together to chatter away, leaving the son and I to catch up as well. The son, Jimmy by name, also took the opportunity to water their horses. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the three women embracing each other, tears rolling down their faces.

"I guess they told your mother about losing my father," I said to Jimmy.

Jimmy's eyes widened.

"You lost your pa? So did we!" exclaimed the other son.

"Really? What happened?" I asked.

"He was mauled by a catamount, we suspect. He came back to the house barely hanging on to his saddle, ripped to ribbons."

Cougars did not often attack men on horses but if they felt threatened, or trapped, they would strike out with their long, vicious claws. Few men could repel such an attack. The cougars were generally large and strong. Even a gunshot would often be insufficient to stem the charge of a maddened cougar.

We both sadly exchanged the detail of our fathers passing while watching the women slowly cease their caterwauling. Once everyone was placid, we continued to the now near by town.

With our horses and wagons hitched close together, the first things we each accomplished, Jimmy and I, was to tend to the horses. Giving them more water and a bait of grain, we were acknowledging the need to take proper care of our horses. They were a valuable commodity and not a resource to be wasted.

Even in town, constant vigilance was needed. Unconsciously, both Jimmy and I, standing side by each, looked around the one street town. You just never knew what you might find or who you might see. The few towns in our part of the country attracted a mixed lot of travelers.

You would think our town had nothing to bring people through it. But, that wasn't the case. The town had the mercantile store, a tent hotel, a saloon, a public barn and corral, as well as a blacksmith forge. Of course, there were a few houses. The main draw was, naturally, the saloon followed closely by the store.

Saloons were not simply places for drinking and carousing. They were the general meeting place of the surrounding area. News of the goings on in the near countryside as well as the far country to the east, was exchanged here. Trail conditions, native uprisings, and major events would all be told and retold to visitors.

Travelers were a mixed lot. They could be local families like ours or families on the move further westward yet needing more supplies or a smithy. Cowboys working their herds eastward to the steam car shipping points and even some gunslingers might drift through.

Not all travelers were nice people. Some could be generally described as truly evil in nature, looking for some method of taking advantage of anyone they encountered.

Law was virtually non-existent in our part of the country which was not uncommon. For the most part, the law was enforced by vigilantes and ropes, or by men with guns. The code was fairly straightforward but often applied quickly and without due consideration. Sometimes, it was even delivered frantically.

Looking around, Jimmy and I simultaneously focused on a trail worn drifter lurching his way through the doorway from the saloon. He glared at us for a moment before planting his ass on a bench outside the saloon. His attention left us and went to rolling a cigarette.

Not wanting to miss the opportunity to check out the store and any new merchandise the store might have received, Jimmy and I joined our womenfolk. The storekeeper and his wife were very occupied with fulfilling our women's requests leaving Jimmy and I to browse.

There was not an ugly woman in the store. The shopkeeper's wife was extremely attractive. Dressed in a typical gingham dress, hiding much of her figure, she had a very pretty face. She was also carrying a loop of rope over her shoulders. The loop fell between her breasts moulding the dress to her boobs. They were big and inviting. I looked away quickly as I did not want to be caught peering at her.

With all the supplies purchased, both families began to haul them out to the wagon. The drifter was still sitting on the bench outside the saloon. He was paying a great deal of attention to the women carrying out the loads. He was making me uncomfortable. Seeing a scowl on Jimmy's face, and his glances across the street, I recognized he was feeling much as I was.

Finally, with both buckboards fully loaded, the two families headed off in tandem. It was getting late in the afternoon and I was concerned about getting home before dark. I pushed the pace of our poor horse as much as I could. No matter my hurry, I couldn't risk exhausting the horse.

After a couple of stops to rest and water the horses, we eventually came to the fork in the trail that led to our home. It was getting to be dark with the sun settling over the mountains to the west of us. We were less than an hour away from our homestead.

Jimmy and his family still had a good five or more hours ahead of them before they could reach their ranch. I suggested they stay the night with us. Jimmy and I could bed down in the barn while the women slept in the house. My suggestion was gratefully received by the other family.

Eventually, our day came to an end. Jimmy and I had eaten the supper prepared by the three women and made our beds in the barn on the hay stack. It didn't take long before we gave into sleep.

The horses woke me up. Western horses were always quick to notice changes around them. They were whinnying in response to another horse that had come close upon our cabin. Without hesitation, I had my boots on, and was looking around for Pa's shotgun. I mean, my shotgun. I guess. No matter.

I woke Jimmy cautioning him to be quiet as I looked out the barndoor scanning the ground closely. I saw the horses had their ears cocked forward and their eyes focused on the area beside the house.

Standing stock still for some time, Jimmy and I eventually saw the shadow of a man flitting from shadow to shadow, moving ever closer to the house.

"It's the guy from town," said Jimmy.

I don't know how he knew but I certainly wasn't going to argue with him. Before we could even move, the intruder plastered his body against the log side of the house.

Jimmy had been slower to react initially than me. Whispering to me to wait, he went back into the barn after his boots and six shooter gun. By the time he returned, the man had entered the house, silently closing the door behind him.

I really don't know why I had waited for Jimmy. I should have stopped the guy outside the house. A shotgun aimed in someone's direction was not an item to be casually dismissed. Now he was in the house with Ma and the other two women.

Mentally kicking myself, I told Jimmy we needed to move quickly.

"I'm going through the front door," I said. "With my shotgun leading the way."

"Okay," Jimmy replied. "What should I do?"

"There's a window on that side of the house. The shutters are open. You go there and back me up me up with your pistol."

"Sounds good," said Jimmy as he launched himself in a run towards the cabin.

Not wanting him to be there before me, I raced towards the front door. I stood with my ear against it listening for any sounds from inside. There was some talking going on, the gruff rumble of the intruder's voice and the scared, pleading voices of the women.

Knowing Jimmy must be at the window by then, I lifted my size fifteen foot and kicked at the door breaking the latch. The door flew open and hit the intruder in the back. Falling forward, there was a single gun shot. I jumped inside to find the drifter lying prone on the floor, having been hit in the head by the door.

He seemed to be in a daze. Barely able to see him from the dim light emitted by the fireplace coals, I instructed Ma, who also seemed dazed, to light the lantern.

"Is everyone okay?" I asked the room.

Hearing voices saying they were good was quite a relief.

"Should I stay here or can I come in?" asked Jimmy from the open window.

"Sure," I said.

It wasn't too long before Ma's trembling hands had the lantern lit and we were all able to see one another. Maureen, Jimmy's mother, was locked in a tight embrace with him, trying to calm herself down. Ma was staring at the guy on the floor who was seemingly gathering his wits about him.

Sissy was lying on the floor, eyes open, with blood frothing out of her mouth and a growing red stain on the front of her nightgown. Ma and I threw ourselves down beside her in time to hear a final gasp from my baby sister.

Without hesitation, I regained my feet and returned to the guy lying on the floor at Jimmy's feet. I kicked him in the head. Once, twice, and three times. Still holding on to his mother, Jimmy matched my own actions.

Maureen pulled away from her son in order to walk across the room to where Ma was cradling her dead daughter, wailing like a banshee. Offering meaningless words of consolation, Maureen embraced Ma, and joined in the flowing tears.

Justice in the west, at this time, was seldom delivered by the law. Mostly due to the fact that there was little law in the countryside. Some towns would often appoint a town marshall or sheriff but their responsibilities and duties would end at the town lines. This left the bulk of the law and the delivery of justice in the hands of the people involved.

"He killed Sissy," I said to Jimmy.

Jimmy merely nodded in reply after glancing at the three women on the floor, only two of them alive.

"He needs a tree," I said.

Jimmy only nodded again.

"Let's get him out of here and we can choose a tree," I said.

Together we dragged the bloodied murderer out of the house. The sun would soon be up as evidenced by the pale lighting of the yard around the house. I pointed to a tree standing alone beside the barn. Working together Jimmy and I dragged him to the base of the giant oak tree.

Dumping the now crying man at the foot of the tree, I told Jimmy to watch him while I gathered the needful.

I put the bridle on the horse and gathered up the new coil of rope still in the wagon. I also grabbed an old crate that we had kept from our original move to this area. Nothing was ever thrown away in our family. You never knew when it would be useful.

With my arms full, and leading the horse, I returned to the tree. Jimmy immediately grabbed the rope from me, flinging an end over a branch on the tree. He pulled it down to him and began fashioning the noose.

I kicked the outlaw while demanding he get to his feet. He was crying like a little child knowing what was coming. The soon to be dead man was blubbering and begging for forgiveness. More like release than forgiveness, I guessed.

A few more kicks and he was standing before us. Jimmy placed the noose over his head and tightened it.

Pointing to the crate beside the horse, "Get up on the horse," I said.

"Please...please...I'm sorry, I didn't mean to kill no one."

"Get on the horse or we'll just have it drag you." I commanded.

Dragging a man by a rope tied to his hands from horseback was generally conceived as the worst way to die. Death was slow to come that way and might take a mile or two of dragging to occur. Dragging across rough ground, rocks and such was ever so painful. As bad as Apache torture.

Jimmy was staring at me hard. I thought the condemned guy's pleading might be getting to him. But, no matter how much the guy begged, or Jimmy faltered, I was going to kill my sister's attacker without remorse.

The outlaw must have seen that there was no turning back and that his destiny was unavoidable. Still trembling he climbed on to the horse's bare back. Again without hesitation, I slapped the horse on the rump causing him to jump forward leaving our killer to swing from the rope. We watched him swaying back and forth, strangling, me with a smile of satisfaction on my face and Jimmy looking grim.

Eventually, we tore ourselves away from the gruesome scene. This being our first lynching, we weren't sure if he was dead yet so we left him hanging from the tree.

In the cabin, the two women were still crying over Sissy's body. The noise level had dropped significantly though. Ma and Maureen looked up at me questioningly.

Nodding, I said, "He's dead."

The two women hugged each other tightly at the news.

"I'm going to dig a grave for Sissy beside Pa," I told them before going back outside.

Jimmy started to follow me but I told him to stay with the women. He recognized immediately that this was my responsibility and that I wanted to take care of it on my own.

I dug the hole right beside Pa's grave. I hadn't carved a marker yet and reminded myself I needed to carve two now.

"I'm sorry, Pa," I said to the air. With my head turning from Pa's grave to the sky and back again, I apologized for letting him down; for not taking care of the family as I should have. I promised I would see that nothing bad ever happened to Ma in the future.

Hearing approaching footsteps, I turned to see Jimmy walking towards me.

"Our ma's are ready to bury your sister," he said when close.

"Maybe we should cut him down," he announced jerking his thumb back over his shoulder.

"I was thinking so but maybe the women need to see him. See him to know he paid for what he done to Sissy."

"If you think so, shall we go bring them all out?"

"Yeah," I responded, "the hole is ready."

It wasn't long before Jimmy and I returned to the grave site carrying Sissy's blanket wrapped body between us. Our mothers were right behind us, still weeping, but looking in the direction of the corpse still swinging from the tree branch. Neither looked horrified. Mostly, they appeared satisfied.

Sissy's burial was like a flashback to the recent burial of Pa. Ignoring the addition of the two observers, it was the same place, the same time of day, and the same words. I'm sure we all hoped not to repeat it for a third time anytime soon.

Once completed, we all turned to necessary chores. Ma and Maureen went into the cabin to clean up while Jimmy and I turned to the disposal of the outlaw's corpse.

Riding our horses, Jimmy's saddle having been in their wagon, we dragged to body a couple miles away. We found a dry wash and threw his body close to the bank. Burying him under a pile of dirt and rocks from the bank of the wash, we slowly rode home. Neither of us felt the need to say anything over this final resting place.

It was getting late in the day by the time Jimmy and I returned home. In the cabin, the two mothers had finished cleaning up the blood spilt by Sissy and were working on preparing a meal.

"It's too late for y'all to leave now," I said to Jimmy and Maureen. "You should spend the night."

No one argued the point. It was getting towards dark when we finished our meals and the evening chores. Everyone was exhausted after all the stress and efforts of the day.

We left Jimmy and Maureen to share the bedding previously used by me and Sissy. Ma and I went behind the curtain to the bed. Ma looked at the rolled up blankets on the floor and looked at me. As I began to strip off my clothes, I looked back at her and nodded soundlessly at the bed.

Both of us naked, we climbed into bed together. Lying facing one another, arms around each other, Ma began to weep very quietly. I shushed her gently, rubbing her back in a comforting manner.

"It's okay, Ma," I repeated over and over.

"What are we going to do, son? Just the two of us?"

"We will just carry on as we planned, Ma. We have a great start here with the cabin and the farm."

"You will go away, Rick. You will find a woman to marry and leave me here alone."

"I've already found the woman I want to marry, Ma. You," I declared.

"Me, Ricky? But, I'm your mother."

"You are certainly my mother and I love you. And, after everything that has happened and what we did by the stream the other night, I have everything I need in a woman right here."

"Are you sure, Ricky?" she asked me.

"Unless you don't want me, I want you to be my wife, Ma," I said.

"Oh, Ricky! Of course, I want you! I want you to be my husband, my love!"

We sealed the deal, so to speak, with a kiss. It started with a gentle sealing of our lips together but as we were both caressing each other, the tenderness turned to passion. Our kissing continued but our mouths opened allowing each tongue to explore the other's mouth.

It may seem heartless to future generations that we turned to sex in such a time but we pioneers of the west were extremely pragmatic people. Life had to move on, there was no use wallowing in grief. And, there was little choice in terms of sexual partners. We really only knew Jimmy and Maureen. They lived almost a full day's journey away from our homestead.

So, that meant only Ma and I were in close proximity. Not that I would kick Maureen out of my bed. She was as attractive to me as my own mother.

I pulled away from my imagination's workings in order to focus on my mother. Our tongues were still busy, dancing with each other. I adjusted my position so I could have a hand on Ma's ass while the other fondled her gloriously firm tits.

I would like to have thought of myself as a grand lover but that was not the case. I could feel the trembling in my arms and hands as I fondled my mother's body. Ma fortunately seemed to be enjoying the extra stimulation though as she was making cooing sounds into my mouth.