The Ballad of  Wrangler Jane
                 A F Troop Tale 
                    by  Ann Douglas


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 had her first man when
she was 16.  It was a totally forgettable experience, but 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 the men had been memorable, 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 16 or 17.


        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.


 END


 (c) Ann Douglas 1995



















   
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