They had
fourteen head when Bob changed direction and began herding the cattle
on a new vector. Brenda was tired, by now. She was
amazed at how tiring it was just to ride a horse all day ... at least
when you had to stay in the saddle as the horse jumped this way and
that, breaking into a trot without warning and stopping suddenly.
Still, she'd had
a good time, and it was the kind of tired she didn't mind. She
felt like she'd actually done something worthwhile that
day. The fun part was watching the young steers, who played
at facing down the horse, pawing the ground and snorting, daring the
horse to come any closer. She decided they were all teddy
bears, because the horse always called their bluff, and they always
skittered around and ran away when that happened. They looked so
fierce in their spraddle-legged stance, head lowered, as if they had
horns. The next second they were dashing away in panic, kicking
up their rear heels, sometimes bawling, as if for their
mother. The horses paid them no mind whatsoever, as long as they
went where they were supposed to go.
All the movement
in the saddle had helped loosen her up, instead of making her
sore. In work like this, your butt didn't hit the saddle, over
and over again, in the same place. The pain she'd felt earlier
was still mostly absent, though there was a generalized ache about her
lower body.
When another
line shack came into view - this one with a small corral beside it -
she heaved a sigh of relief. She didn't have to be a professional
cowgirl to know that this was the end of the trail for that particular
day.
She looked
around hopefully for a pond, but didn't see one. She saw the
windmill that stood next to the corral, but didn't think much about
that. Bob rode ahead and opened the gate to the corral
without even getting off his horse, and, once again, Brenda marveled at
his skill. Then he rode wide, around their small herd, as
Dammit and she kept the herd moving toward the corral.
She was worried
about what to do now. The gate was small, and the cattle were
spread out, ambling along. They'd gotten more and more tame as
the day went on, or at least less likely to dash off in an attempted
escape. If they did that now, she wouldn't know what to do.
To her chagrin,
they marched straight for the corral, as if someone had told them "OK,
kids, this is where you're staying tonight ... hup, hup ... move on in
there ... thaaaats good." Bob was suddenly there, leaning over
again and walking Ranger, the end of the gate in his hand as he swung
it closed. The cattle began milling around, and lowing, as
if they had just realized they were now captives, and were nervous
about it. Before she got to the shack and began to
dismount, though, they all had lowered heads, cropping at the grass in
the corral.
"You do pretty good work," said Bob, as he eased off his horse.
"Thanks," she said tiredly. "This is a lot harder than I would have thought."
"What are you
talking about?" He grinned. "They didn't give us much trouble at
all. All you did was sit on a horse all day." His
grin faded. "How's your ... um ..."
"My butt?" she finished for him. "My butt is just fine, mister."
"Well, I'm relieved to hear it," he said. "You ready for a nice cool dip?"
She perked up. "You bet I am!" she said. She looked around. "Where?"
"Stock tank," he said. "I'll get the windmill going and pump us a bathtub full."
It was then she
saw the big gray metal tank, maybe eight feet across and two or three
feet high. It was half in, and half out of the corral, and cows
were already standing by it, their noses poked inside, looking for the
water that wasn't in it yet. They complained when they found it
dry. Bob went to the base of the windmill and pulled a big
lever. With a screech of dry metal, the head of the
windmill turned slightly and began to slowly revolve. As it
did, the lever on the pump next to Bob began to slowly rise and fall,
and clear water first dribbled, and then poured out of the outlet as
the big fan up high began to move faster.
"By the time we're done with supper, it should be deep enough to cool off in," he said, dusting off his hands.
"I'm, cooking tonight," she announced firmly.
"Yes Ma'am!" He grinned.
She took most of
the rest of their freeze dried rations, and mixed it with cans of
things she found in the shack to make up a stew, of sorts. She
found bottles of spices and added pinches of that to the mix. She
was sweating from the heat of the stove. This line shack had bunk
beds in it, a set on each side of the stove.
"It's going to be too hot to sleep in here tonight," she observed.
"We're still up fairly high," he said. "It can still get nippy at night, this time of year."
"We could still sleep outside," she said. "We have sleeping bags."
"On the cold,
hard ground?" He bent over backwards, like his back ached.
"With bears? And wolves? All drawn to our poor
cattle?"
She didn't know
if he was kidding or not. His face was straight and his voice was
the only thing that suggested he was teasing her.
"Of course," he went on, "If we slept in the same sleeping bag ... then I guess I could protect you from the varmints."
She giggled then. "There aren't really any varmints ... are there? Tell the truth!"
"Well ..." he hedged, "just because I've never seen any around here doesn't mean they don't exist."
"The only protection I need," she said firmly, "is from you!"
"Now don't be
that way, little darlin'," he whined. "I was doing just fine
until you subverted me and drew me into your web, and unleashed all
sorts of dangerous passions." He stuck his lower lip out and
pouted. He looked ridiculous, and she had to laugh.
"Last night I was 'your little filly', and tonight I'm your 'little darlin'," she said. "What will I be tomorrow night?"
He looked truly sad then. "Tomorrow night you'll be your parents' daughter, and I won't get a goodnight kiss."
Brenda, for the
first time in a long time, felt a chill run down her spine as she
remembered what she'd be going back to. This trip really
had taken her mind off of the fact that, as soon as a month from now,
if the doctors were right, she'd be in a bed somewhere, maybe
delirious, in the ugly process of dying from cancer.
"I'll give you two tonight," she said softly, almost to herself.
"Hey," he said,
his voice firming. "I didn't mean to bring you down.
That smells delicious," he said, changing the subject. "When's it
going to be done? I'm famished."
They ate in
silence, the mood still somber. Brenda felt listless ...
uninterested, suddenly, in having to go through the next few
weeks. She had been upbeat for a long time, treating each new
challenge, and each new experience as a test that she needed to pass,
to make the most of what she had left. Now, it already seemed
over. This had been a dream, and she was going to have to wake
up.
She didn't want to wake up.
Bob was sober
too, because he could see the pain on her face. She was too
young to have lines of worry, but her eyes told the story. They
were eyes that had seen too much pain, and too much horror for a girl
so young. He still felt the pain of his own loss - would
always feel that on some level - and knew hers was just as agonizing.
"Finish up," he
said, noting that she had just sat there for five minutes without
eating. "We still have a half day's ride ahead of us tomorrow,
and I want you in tip-top shape when we get back."
"Yeah ... right," she said.
He put his bowl
down and took hers from her. He pulled her up and put his
hands around her waist, pulling her to him.
"Look, I know I
can't change anything ... can't make it all go away. I would, if
I could, but we both know better than that. It's going to
happen." She lifted her face and there were tears in her
eyes. He stared into them and went on. "But you don't
have to let it happen before it's really here. You've got
some time left. Don't let the disease take that from you without
fighting it."
"I know," she said miserably.
"You'd feel better if you got clean," he said, kissing her nose.
"You just want to see me naked again," she said, wiping her nose with one hand.
"Guilty, as charged," he said, smiling.
"Oh, all right!" she said, pushing him away. "If you're going to badger me all night, let's get this over with!"
Her fingers went to her shirt buttons and she undid them rapidly. She pulled her shirt apart, exposing her breasts.
"Is THIS what you're so anxious to see?" She thrust them out at him, arching her back.
"You're half way there," he said encouragingly.
"I suppose you're going to ravish me," she said, undoing her jeans and pushing them down.
"That depends," he said.
She stopped and stood up, her pants around her knees.
"What do you mean?" she asked indignantly. "What on?"
"As I recall,
you were a mite sore, earlier in the day," he said. "I'm not the
sort of man who wants to cause my little darlin' any pain."
"I'll let you
know if you're causing me any pain," she said firmly. "If
you think you're going to get me all naked and horny, and then do
nothing about it ... well ... you'd better not be trifling with my
emotions!"
"Trifling?" asked Bob, trying not to smile.
"That's what my Aunt Sophie would call it," she said.
She bent over and stepped out of her jeans, to stand up naked.
"You've got an awful lot of clothes on, mister cowboy," she observed.
"Who's badgering who, here?" he asked, trying to look miffed.
"Get naked!" she ordered.
"Oooooo," he simpered. "You're so forceful!"
"If you don't get naked pretty damn quick, you're going to WISH a bear mauled you," she threatened, stepping closer.
In answer, he
reached out and tweaked a nipple. Both of them jumped back and he
dodged behind the stove as she came for him. He tried to
keep the stove between them as he unbuttoned his own shirt and tossed
it on a bunk. She darted, this way and that, and, because he was
watching her breasts bounce and sway, he missed seeing the wood box and
went sprawling. She was on him instantly, tearing at his
belt. He went limp and let her have her way, lifting his hips
while she dragged his jeans down. She left them at his knees and
tore at his jockeys, to expose his erection. When it came
into view, she sat back on her haunches.
"I'll always be amazed that I can do that to a man," she sighed.
Bob
grinned. "And I'll always be amazed that a woman will leave
herself open for this." He reached out and tweaked her nipple
again.
He tried to roll
away from her, but his jeans got in the way and he ended up on his
hands and knees. She landed on his back, like he was a horse and
yelled "GIDDYAP!" Her hand came down to slap his right butt
cheek hard enough to leave a hand print.
Then she ended up sprawling as he stood on his knees, his hand going to his injury.
"HEY!" he
complained. "I'm the adult here! If anybody's going
to get a spanking, it's going to be the teenager in the room!"
She shrieked and
dashed for the door, making it because he was still unable to move his
jeans-restricted legs. By the time he got them off, and
went out the door after her, she was standing by the stock tank,
peering into it. There was about two feet of water in it, and she
was trying to figure out how to climb in. The lip of the tank was
a little higher than her legs were long. Bob started
running and vaulted the side of the tank, turning to land on his
back. He splashed water everywhere.
Cold water.
The water was a
uniform 55 degrees when it came out of the pump, from the water table a
hundred or more feet down. That doesn't sound cold, until
you immerse your body in it. Cold water from the average
tap is about the same temperature. Just think of the last
time the hot water cut out on you while you were in the shower.
Brenda was
covered with the wave that splashed up, and over the lip of the tank,
and she froze, her mouth wide open. It wasn't as cold as the
water at the waterfall, but her body couldn't really tell the
difference.
Then Bob was
there, leaning against the edge of the tank, his hands around her
waist, and she felt herself lifted as if she weighed hardly
anything. She screeched as she realized he was going to throw her
in the water, and then took in a hasty breath when she realized it was
inevitable.
It took care of her hot, sweaty feeling instantly.
There was an
impromptu wrestling match immediately. Each one tried to spank
the other, but the water kept much from happening. Quite suddenly
they were in each other's arms, flesh pressed to flesh, trading body
heat.
"It's really COLD!" she said into his chest.
"You'll get used to it," he said.
"I don't k-k-know about that," she said, her teeth chattering.
"Let me take your mind off of it," he said.
He pushed her
against the side of the tank, and told her to hold on with her
hands. She did so as he lifted her body, laying her out in
the water and got between her legs. She spread them for him
without thinking. His hands went to her buttocks and he
lifted, until she had to hold on to the edge of the tank to keep from
sinking. Sinking into the water, he shoved his face into
her pussy and began to ... take her mind off the water.
Brenda was lost
in the delicious feelings coming from her loins. She had
stopped shivering when her first orgasm washed over her, making her
body feel warm despite the water she was half floating in. When
he kept going, she relaxed. The only muscles in her body that
were tense were her hands, keeping their grip. There was no
pain ... only glorious shafts of ecstasy that went from her pussy to
all other points in her body. When he finally stopped, and
let her hips sink into the water, she realized it didn't feel nearly as
cold as it had. She could feel the obvious difference
between the air and water temperatures, but she wasn't shivering any
more. He stood up and splashed water on his face. His
prick, stiff as a board, lay at the water's surface, like it was
floating there.
She let go of
the edge of the tank, and flowed toward him. Now it was her hands
on his buttocks, as she sank into the water to capture his prick in her
mouth.
"Mmmmmmm." She made the noise through her nose, and Bob arched his back as the vibrations were transferred to his cock.
"Still sore?" he asked.
She pulled off, slurping.
"Maybe a little," she said.
"Want to be ravished anyway?" he asked hopefully.
"Maybe a little." She smiled.
"Be right back," he said.
He vaulted over
the side of the tank and hopped gingerly to the line shack,
disappearing inside. When he came back he had soap, towels, and a
razor. Dammit raced up beside him, coming from around behind the
shack, and barking.
"No bath for you
today, girl," he said to her, hopping back into the tank. She
stood on her hind legs, hopping a bit to look over the rim of the tank.
Brenda looked at
him curiously. She'd thought they were going to make love, but it
looked like he had something else on his mind. She felt a
little let down. He waded to where the corral fence was
against the tank and put the towels carefully on top of the post.
The razor went on top of the towels. He kept the soap in his
hands.
"Now, where were we?" he asked, turning back to Brenda.
"You were about to ravish me, I believe," she said, smiling.
"That's what this is for," he said, holding up the soap.
"What?" she asked, confused.
"You're all new
to this," he said gently. "The water washes away your natural
lubrication, and it would be painful without something else." He
held the soap up. "Soap ... is slippery." He grinned, as if
he'd said something monumental. "C'mere," he said.
She stood as he
washed her, his soapy hands sliding all over her body. It
felt wonderful, even when he did her head. That made her
think of how, when they got back to the ranch, tomorrow, she'd have to
ride in bald.
"Wait," she
said. She went to the edge of the tank, and, with much less
grace, floundered over it. Then, like him, she hopped to the
shack on tender feet. She came back with the wig. She was
accompanied both ways by Dammit, who barked as they went to the shack,
and tried to jump up and bite the wig as she ran back.
"What's that for?" he asked.
"I'm going to try to get it into some kind of shape to wear tomorrow," she said, holding it out and looking at it in disgust.
"I thought I was ravishing you," he complained.
"You will," she
laughed. "But when you washed my head, I thought about that, and
I just didn't want to forget it. You have a tendency to make me
forget about things when you ravish me."
She climbed back into the tank, holding the wig, to find him staring at her, his head cocked to one side.
"Let me see that thing," he said.
"Ravish first ... wig later," she said.
"No, let me see it now," he insisted.
"You're not very romantic," she said disgustedly.
"Woman, you can
get me going any time, all day long. If I can't do the same to
you, then I'm no ravisher. Now give me the wig!"
She threw it at
him, but he caught it before it hit him. It was still
encrusted with twigs and bits of leaf, as well as dirt. He
submerged it, fiddled with it under water, and then brought it back up,
inspecting it closely.
"This is hopeless," he said.
"I'm not going
back to the ranch bald," she said firmly. "Being bald with you is
different, but I don't want other people to see me that way. They
get all pitified."
"Pitified?" he asked. "Is that a real word?"
"Yes," she said with dignity.
He tossed the
wig away and went to her, pulling her to him. His prick had
softened some, but poked her abdomen. She reached for it without
thought, and played with it.
"Look at me," he said.
She looked up, her blue eyes wide at the sudden serious tone of his voice.
"You gave me something precious," he said. "Something a woman can give only one man."
He stopped, as if he were thinking hard.
"I wanted to," she said.
"I know that, and that's what makes it so precious. I want to give you something too."
"That's sweet," she said, kissing his chin. "But you can't give me that."
"That's not what I'm talking about," he said. "You can't wear that wig. It will look ridiculous on you."
"Not as ridiculous as a shiny bald head," she countered.
"What if you weren't the only one with a shiny bald head?" he asked.
"What?" She looked at him in confusion.
"What if we both rode in with shiny bald heads?" he asked.
Her jaw dropped. He was offering to shave his head bald for her!
"That's silly!" she gasped.
"No it's not," he said. "What if we were both bald as an egg. Would that make you feel better?"
Brenda didn't
know what to think. She'd never thought about anything like
this. She'd met other kids who lost their hair because of
treatment, and she always felt a little better in their midst, but ...
"You'd do that? For me?" She had to wipe her eyes suddenly.
"That's the only
thing I can think of to give you." He looked downfallen. "I
mean I know it's nowhere hear as precious as what you gave me, but you
can't wear that wig." He looked surprised as he thought of something else. "Have you
got another one? With your parents, maybe? I could ride
ahead and get that."
Brenda felt a
rush of warmth that was far and above just lust for this
man. He cared so much. That he'd even THINK of
shaving his head bald so she wouldn't be alone was something that made
her love him a little.
"No," she
smiled. "I don't carry around a selection of hair. I
have a couple back home, but I didn't think I'd need them."
"You don't," he said urgently. "I know you feel awkward and all, but I like you just fine with no hair."
"You'd really shave your head?" She couldn't get used to the idea "For me?"
"Yes," he said
simply. "You just have to decide whether we do it before ... or
after I ravish you. How would you feel about making love
with a bald, old man?"
She laughed. She couldn't imagine what he'd look like without all that hair.
"Maybe you'd
better ravish me twice," she said, her eyes twinkling. "Once
with, and then once without. I can always close my eyes the
second time, if you turn out all ugly or something."
"I'm not joking," he said seriously.
"I know," she
sighed. "I can't believe you'd do that just to make me feel a
little better." She cocked her head, trying to visualize him
bald. She just couldn't do it. "You want to think about it
while you ravish me the first time?"
"I can't think about anything while I'm ravishing you," he said softly. "Except how good it feels to be ravished back."
She flowed into his arms.
He soaped her up
again, this time running his hand between her legs, while she laid back
in the water, again holding herself up on the rim of the tank.
She watched, her eyes half lidded, as he soaped up his prick and fed it
to her slowly.
She'd been
worried it would hurt, but other than a stretching sensation, there was
nothing uncomfortable. That soon passed, as her body adjusted to
being filled again. This was a whole new feeling. She
wasn't bearing down on him, and he wasn't hulking over her. He
could lean forward to nurse at her tender buds while he kept sliding
his long prick in and out of her. He held her hips with one
hand, and thumbed her clitty with the other as she moaned through an
orgasm that was completely pain free.
She was coming down from the pinnacle of another one when she opened her eyes and said: "There are cows watching us."
He craned his
neck to see two cows, heads hanging over the edge of the trough.
It did look like they were watching.
"Well, it's not quite the same, but maybe this will help with breeding them."
He leaned forward to kiss her and groaned into her mouth as he spewed, deep inside her.
Rather than
feeling tired, now, Brenda felt energized. She washed him,
playing with his limp prick. It had a whole new feel to it too,
soft like this, both in her hands and in her mouth. She stopped
every minute or so for another kiss, and felt like she would melt
during each one.
He sank down,
getting his hair wet and coming up with his face up so it would flow
backwards. She soaped it up and he pulled back on it, to expose
the roots at the front.
"You're sure?" she asked, razor in hand.
"I want to do this for you," he said.
It took a few
minutes for her to get the hang of it. It was different than
shaving her legs, which she hadn't had to do for most of a year now. The
razor had a tendency to slip up onto the thick dark hair, instead of
biting at the roots. It went in bits so small that she didn't
notice any change until he suddenly had a receding
hairline. She looked at him critically. He
leaned forward to suckle at a breast and she batted him away.
"I'll cut you if you do that now," she chided.
"Hurry up, then," he said. "I want to ravish you again."
It took her a
whole hour, and it was getting dark by the time she was
finished. He looked like a completely different man, and
she felt her nakedness until she looked into his eyes and saw ... Bob.
"Well?" he asked.
She looked ...
and looked. She walked around him. Then she looked
some more. She pushed a breast into his face.
"Now you can ravish me again," she said softly.
As he suckled at her, her hands came to his head and floated gently all over it.
"I love you," she said, her voice almost a moan.
He didn't
answer, and, being young, she didn't care. She was just
voicing what she felt, and had no idea that would conjure up, in him,
the last time he had heard those words from a woman ... a different
woman, who said the words hastily ... perfunctionally ... just before
she took their son, strapped him in is car seat, and headed off to go
shopping.
That Brenda
meant it, even if she didn't really understand the concept of love, in
the context she was saying it, came through to him clearly. As
fleeting as this feeling might be in her, she DID mean it when she said
it, and it pulled from him emotions he wasn't prepared to deal
with. He loved this girl too, in some unfathomable
way. He had offered to shave his head bald out of love for her,
though he wouldn't have called it that. But he could FEEL
his response to her, and he wasn't at all sure he was allowed to feel
this way.
In almost a
state of panic, he pulled Brenda from the tank. They
hastily dried themselves as they went back to the shack, where he
stood, his knees trembling as she made another bed for them.
This time, they
coupled. It wasn't tender, though it wasn't rough
either. Both of them were filled with passions that
couldn't be denied ... she because of what he had done for her ... and
he, to escape the feeling that he was cheating on his dead
wife. He pounded her, Dannie's face appearing in his head
as he closed his eyes. He opened them and focused on
Brenda's bald head, and when he closed his eyes, Dannie's head was
suddenly bald. It didn't affect his body - that was on
autopilot, doing what it was designed to do. But this time,
when he groaned, and semen spurted from his prick into the receptive,
warm, clasping pussy he was in, his groan of "Ohhhhh Baby," was full of
almost pain. It was addressed to the vision in his mind,
and not the girl under him.
Brenda was
insatiable that night. She clasped him, not wanting to let
go. Each time she coaxed him back into her, as she had her
orgasms, her hands fluttered across his bald pate. She
professed her love for him many times, until he had heard it enough
that it didn't strike so deeply into his pain centers any
more. At some point, overcome with the mental tension
of dealing with things, he admitted to himself that what he felt for
this girl in his arms, whether it was allowed or not, was something
he'd never forget. Some of the pain he felt was for her
loss ... in the future. He hadn't cried over Dannie.
He'd raged, and tears had come, but they were tears of rage, not
grief. As he held Brenda's soft body in the night, and she
slept, he cried silently, tears sliding down his cheeks in an unending
flow.
