A New Life Out West

[AmyRoberts]

Each of the three women involved in the event reacted differently:

Emelia had been crying in fear and panic, but as soon as her husband had beaten her attacker nearly to unconsciousness, she ran to Jose and threw her arms around his torso.

Emily had never before been manhandled like what Mitchell Masterson had been doing to her. The way he'd grabbed her and shoved her back against the buckboard's wood and steel like a calf pinned in the branding chute, followed by the shot from Morgan's pistol, had left her frozen even after he'd let her go.

It was Gretchen, though, who was able to keep her wits about her as the whole affair unfolded. She'd fought to get free of the man holding her, finally doing so when he released her to go after Morgan. She ran around the front of the wagon, climbing over the reach brace and under the reins to get to her daughter. She beat at Masterson's arm as he continued to hold onto Emily's dress in a tightly clenching fist. She punched at his chest, then at his face, screaming at him to let her daughter go.

Gretchen's fury ceased, though, with Mitchell pulled his weapon from his hip. She moved in between him and Emily, fearful he might shoot one or both of them. But then to both her relief for Emily and her fear for Morgan, Mitchell turned his attention and his gun on the cowboy who'd come to rescue them.

Without even realizing what she was doing, Gretchen spun, rushed a few feet to where Morgan's horse was tied to a railing, and ripped his rifle from its scabbard.
She aimed the weapon at Mitchell, pulled back the hammer, and was seriously about to pull the trigger, striking the brute down, when her daughter cried out in terror, "Momma!"

Gretchen made eye contact with Emily, and seeing the fear in her eyes, instead lifted the barrel of the rifle and pulled the trigger. The unexpected explosion of gunpowder turned all eyes her direction, including those of Mitchell Masterson, who found the rifle once again lowered until it was pointing right at his chest, the wielder of it kicking a fresh round into its firing chamber.

"You hurt my daughter, Mitchell Masterson," Gretchen growled with the deepest of hatreds while in between them, Emily was ever so slowly moving away from the ranching heir and closer to her own mother. Gretchen lowered her right eye and raised the gun a bit until she was looking through the sight right at his face. "I'll put a round right through that pretty face of yours such that even your papa won't be able to recognize you."

Tense seconds passed, and after Masterson slowly lifted his arms out to his side, he set the pistol he'd threatened Morgan with on the still open tail board of the wagon. As if he expected anyone to believe him, Mitchell said, "I never meant no harm. We wasn't going to hurt anyone."

Suddenly, a new male voice cut in from nearby, demanding in a low, firm tone, "Put the rifle down, Missus Jacobs."

Gretchen recognized the voice as that of Marshall Wendell. She didn't lower the weapon though, not until Wendell had literally stepped up in between her and the man she was pointing it at. He said softer, "Put it down, Gretchen."

She lowered it, only then realizing that her hands were shaking. The Marshall turned to Mitchell, asking what was happening while also retrieving the man's pistol from the buckboard. He stuck it in his own belt as Mitchell rattled off some bullshit story about the Jacob Ranch hands misunderstanding a simple conversation between him and his boys and the Jacob women.

Gretchen looked to Morgan with concern: she doubted very much that he would be interested in making the Marshall's acquaintance, even though she still didn't know his backstory. As the Lawman and the ranching heir talked back and forth, Gretchen waved a hand at Morgan, urging him to quietly slip away from the scene.

Would he go?

When she looked back to the Marshall, it was pretty obvious to her that he didn't buy Mitchell's story. But Mitchell was still a Masterson. He looked back to Gretchen, asking, "Is this what happened, Missus Jacob?"

With a harsh tone, she responded, "Does it matter, Wendell? If I tell you that Mitchell Masterson's men were going to rape Emelia ... were gonna prob'ly rape me and my daughter ... would you do anything about it?"

The Marshall didn't respond, instead just maintaining a noncommittal stare at the woman he would have liked to help but simply couldn't. He looked around for the Mexican woman he'd seen Gretchen and Emily with earlier and found them still holding each other out in the middle of the street.

The Masterson hands were still on the ground, one of them out cold and the other writhing about, being tended to by someone loyal to Henry Masterson. Wendell looked to Mitchell and demanded, "Gimme all the money you have in your pockets."

The young Masterson looked at him with surprise, asking, "What? Why?"

"Give me all your money!" Wendell demanded again, even reaching out to begin forcibly searching the many pockets in the man's jacket, vest, and slacks. Mitchell gave in, not certain just what was happening, and ultimately was told, "Now get on your damn horse and get out of town before I shoot you in the face myself."

Mitchell gave Gretchen, then Emily one last look, but the Marshall gave him a shove in the chest, and as Mitchell hurried for his horse -- leaving his beat up men to fend for themselves -- Wendell said, "Git! And if I see you near either of these women again any time soon, I'll be taking more from you than a little spending money."

After the young Masterson had kicked his horse into a sudden gallop and headed for the outskirts of Harland's Grove, Wendell walked up to Gretchen, took the rifle from her hands, leaned it up against the buckboard, took one of her still shaking hands again, and forcibly filled it with the coins and paper money he'd confiscated from Mitchell.

"I'm sorry, Gretchen," he said with a sincere tone. "I'm sorry that I can't do anything more for you. You know what I'm facing with Masterson."

"You're a coward," she growled, throwing the money at his chest. She grabbed Emily's hand and almost dragged her to the buckboard, ordering her up into it as grabbed Morgan's rifle and she said, "We're going home. I've had enough of this town for a while."

Her daughter slapped the reins on the ass of the horse, and she, the Mexican couple who hurried to get aboard, and their supplies headed away. As they rode off, Wendell watched, then picked up the money scattered in the dirt around him. He waved over the owner of the Mercantile, who had been watching the action. "Put this on the Widow Jacob's bill."

Wendell handed over the money, all except for one coin. He needed a drink, and he didn't see any reason why Mitchell Masterson shouldn't pay for it.

(OOC: I'm letting you add what happened to Morgan and his horse.)

 

[RidePlayer]

Morgan had stayed behind watching the altercation.

Fortunately the Marshall was more focused on Masterson and his men than him.

Plus with his alias and how slow information travels he doubted the marshal would have any issues with him from dodge yet.

He was inclined to agree that the Marshall was a coward he could tell this Masterson had pull in town he doubted things were gonna get easier for the Jacobs.

He knew one thing though he would do his best to keep them out of trouble.

He wiped the blood from his split eyebrow he said to himself 'this is a fine mess you got yourself involved in Holt.'

Watching to make sure Emily, Jose and Emelia were on there way out of town with the backboard. He mounted his horse striding up to Gretchen.

He said "with them already on there way out can I offer you a ride Mrs. Jacobs?" Holding his hand to help her onto the back of the horse if she took it.

 

[AmyRoberts]

Gretchen handed the rifle to Morgan when he joined her at his horse. He sheathed it, mounted, and offered her a hand up. She hesitated; she hadn't ridden double on a horse with a man since Robert, early in her marriage, and that ride had ended with the two of them skinny dipping and then fucking in the waters of a small pond found at the end of their ride.

"That eye needs to be tended to," she said, looking at the blood still dropping from over it. She called to Emily, who stopped the buckboard she only just moments ago started off toward home. Gretchen called, "I'm taking Tom to Karen's place, to sew him up."

Emily acknowledged her mother and once again headed the wagon and their friends out of town. Gretchen glared back again at the Marshall, who -- with others -- was dealing with the two men still laying in the middle of the packed dirt street. She looked up to Morgan again, hesitated -- she was fearful of where this might go -- and finally took his hand, stuck a foot in the vacated stirrup, and joined him on the horse's back.

"Outta town to the west," she instructed as she leaned into his back and put her hands on his hips. "Green painted house, just past the graveyard."

A chill ran up her spine at the feel of Morgan against her bosom, and her arms flooded with goosebumps. Since her marriage at 14 and up until her husband's death a year ago, Gretchen hadn't gone more than two or three days in a row without the touch of a man against her body, and those gaps had only occurred because Robert had been off buying stock or supplies. It had never occurred to Gretchen just how sexually active she and Robert had been until suddenly he was dead and the pleasures she'd enjoyed for nearly two decades were suddenly gone.

As Morgan put the horse into a gentle canter, Gretchen tried to resist intensifying the embrace between them. She failed. Her hands slowly slipped forward from his hips until they were on his belly, the tips of them nearly touching. Her breasts pressed harder into his back, and her right cheek ultimately found his back, gently caressing up and down between his shoulder blades with each of the horse's cycle of steps down the lane.

The worst -- or best? -- part of the quarter mile ride, of course, was what it was causing between Gretchen's parted thighs. Every time the horse's feet found the ground, it's back thumped against her womanhood with a force reminiscent of Robert's groin pounding into hers while they fucked with wild abandon.

By the time they reached Karen's house and she quickly slid off the horse to the ground, Gretchen could feel the wetness on her under layers of clothing. She'd never been so thankful for how many layers of cloth a proper Western woman's wardrobe included.

"Tie him up and come inside," Gretchen told Morgan about his horse. "Put him out back, at the trough. My friend Karen will sew up that eye for you."

She turned to the house and knocked. It was a beautiful place, with bright paint, flower boxes, and a pair of mutts wagging their tails frantically for attention and lovin' from where they were tied up. A fair looking woman, equally as red headed, opened the door and showed instant excitement at seeing her friend.

Then she caught sight of the man with the bloodied face, growing swelling, and dust covered clothes. Gretchen reassured Karen quickly, "He's a friend. I'll explain inside."

The two women went into the house, and by the time Morgan had dealt with his horse and followed, Gretchen had quickly explained all about Tom, leaving out the part about how she so badly wanted his cock inside her but also including the part about how she'd ogled his bared torso while he sweated under the midday sun that first day of his employment.

"Sit here," Gretchen ordered, pulling out a chair and turning it to Morgan. Once he was sat, she went to work cleaning his face with a wet rag provided by Karen. Morgan winced a couple of times, causing Gretchen to chuckle and say playfully, "Big baby."

Behind her, Karen had been cleaning an already threaded needle in a small bowl of alcohol. She replaced her friend before the savior cowboy and looked the wound over well. She took in the rest of his handsomeness as well.

"Such a shame, seeing such a pretty face marred like this," she said with a devilish smirk. She looked to Gretchen suspiciously; there was no chance in Hell that her friend wasn't having daily fantasies of being naked with this man. To Morgan again, Karen said something neither he nor Gretchen had ever heard before, something that wouldn't be a part of the American lexicon for almost another century, "Don't worry. Doncha know? Chicks dig scars."

She went to work on Morgan's wound, tying it closed with small, tight loops of thread. She was good at this, having nursing experience from back East. She wasn't officially the town's Doctor: she didn't have a penis, after all. But she was nearly as well if not more recently educated, well practiced, and called upon by the townsfolk for medical care as was Doc London, who many people avoided because half the time he was three sheets to the wind.

When she finished, Karen looked Morgan's torso over and tugged at his shirt. "Your bleeding, couple'a places. We're need to look at those."

She turned away and -- looking into Gretchen's eyes with a wicked expression -- said, "Take your shirt off, Tom, and Gretchen'll check and clean your wounds. I'm going to the Mercantile for some analgesics and more bandages. Be back in a few minutes..."

And then close to her friend, Karen clarified in barely over a whisper, "... say about 40 minutes. Long enough?"

Gretchen's eyes opened wide in horror at her friend's suggestive words. She mouthed No, don't go! but Karen only continued, "Rinse the rag in hot water often, and make sure you get any gravel or dirt out of the scrapes. Don't want to get infected."

Gretchen turned with Karen as the woman headed for the door, hiding her panicked face from Morgan as her friend abandoned her with the handsome, though swollen and bloodied cowboy. The door opened and closed, and suddenly Gretchen was alone with the man for whom she'd had so many inappropriate fantasies over the past week.

She hesitated before turning back -- her hands were shaking again -- and when she did face him again, her pale, freckled face was bright red with a fiery blush. Gretchen just stared at the cowboy for the longest moment, a nervous smile on her lips, before finally she asked, "Do you need help getting your shirt off? Does it hurt? I can help. If you need it."

 

[RidePlayer]

Morgan rode as Gretchen instructed he was surprised when she suddenly tightened her hold feeling the soft swell of her breasts against his back.

He felt his body heat increase as he tried to drown any inappropriate thoughts of Gretchen out of his mind.

Eventually finding the house in question after he had hitched the horse he had tried to say "Really Mrs. Jacobs this is not needed it will heal."

Though it fell on death ears as the door opened and Gretchen's friend Karen greeted her.

Following the ladies he was ushered inside as the two worked on him.

Winching a bit as Gretchen dabbed the wound and teased him slightly.

He chuckled when Karen mentioned scars and said "well if that's the case maybe I should Tustle with Masterson's men some more. Especially if its to protect Mrs Jacobs who so graciously opened up her home and gave me a job."

Hearing that Karen was leaving he was left with a flushed Gretchen he thought she looked good with that color in her skin. Though he didn't know the reason she was blushing instead chocking it up to the awkwardness of being alone with him after being saved.

He tried to undo his shirt himself but winced and said "think i'm gonna need a little help Mrs. Jacobs the skirmish left my shoulder a bit tender and I can't move it just right to get my shirt off myself."

He let his arm slack as she pushed the garmet off his shoulders and body.

He addressed the blush "i'm sorry Ma'am I never ment to insult you or say you couldn't handle it yourself I just did what any good man would do." Still thinking her blush was from embarrassment from being rescued.

The skirmish had left a few bruises and cuts on his back and arms. Nothing too serious but just as Karen pointed out cleaning would be important.

 

[AmyRoberts]

As Morgan's shirt slid off his shoulders, Gretchen found herself looking intently at his muscular body. He was a well built man; she couldn't help but wonder if he had hard labor in his past, perhaps even forced labor from a prison camp. The scars already present on his body spoke of a life of violence. One looked like a bullet hole, another like a knife wound. Of course, they could have been a stab from a branch during a fall from a horse and an industrial accident from a job in a big East Coast factory, for all Gretchen knew.

She soaked the rag in the warm water Karen had poured into a metal pan, rung it out, and held it over one of the worst abrasions on Morgan's back. She warned softly, "This might hurt, Tom."

It must have, because the cowboy flinched again at the feel of the cloth upon his damaged skin. She shouldn't have, but Gretchen giggled again, whispering, "Still a big baby."

She spent a couple of minutes gingerly dabbing the scrapes. Her work took her hands over his back from neck to waist, then around to his front. Gretchen hesitated a moment before working here as she was face to face with him; she couldn't look up into his eyes, knowing they would betray her lust for him, so she kept her gaze on the portion of his body to which she was tending at that moment.

Of course, that didn't help much either, and she found herself getting warm between her thighs. She found the small amount of bandages Karen had had available and began covering the worst of the wounds. Eventually, she looked into Morgan's eyes and said with a soft, sincere tone, "I ... I didn't thank you, Tom. For what you did. I'm sorry. I should have right away. You saved my daughter's life maybe. You saved Emelia for certain."

She moved closer to Morgan as he sat on a tall, three legged stool, hesitated, then moved slowly into to kiss him softly on the cheek. She didn't pull her head back far, though, instead leaving her mouth just inches from the cowboy's. She wanted so badly to kiss him, but she knew it was not a good idea. She doubted that she could end this with only a kiss.

Gretchen hesitated a few seconds, ready to tell him thanks again and pull back ... if he didn't kiss her first.

 

[RidePlayer]

Morgan guaged her reaction at the scars every single one of them had a story he couldn't tell.

The gunshot wound was from a turf war with a rival gang.

The knife scar from when his boss robbed the wrong man and the mans goons jumped them one day at one of there camps thinking Morgan's tent was his boss'.

Each wound telling a story of a past he couldn't redeem from only try to move past and dissapear.

He suddenly couldn't help but tense as cloth touched his damaged skin once again earning a giggle and comment from Gretchen.

He chuckled back and said "ow such the nurturing attitude Mrs. Jacobs. I will admit your lovely giggle is excellent bedside manner."

A part of him felt her hands caress his skin and muscles though it was through the cloth a part of him couldn't help but wonder at the idea of her hands instead of the cloth caressing him.

When she faced him and thanked him for what he did he said "no thanks are needed Ma'am I couldn't stand by and watch woman be harmed."

He sat down on bar stool as she moved in face still flushed as she leaned in and kissed his cheek.

Her lips mear inches from his own as she pulled back and seemed to hesitate.

Looking into her eyes and this close Morgan found himself leaning in.

Claiming her lips in a heated kiss as his hands found her waist holding her.

Eventually he broke the kiss and said "wait Mrs. Jacobs I don't know if this is a good idea....there are far better men then me...."

 

[AmyRoberts]

Gretchen had both wanted and not wanted Morgan to kiss her. Her body ached with lust for him, something she hadn't felt for a man since she'd felt it for her husband more than a year ago. She felt his hands upon her waist, and she found herself leaning in closer, wanting to feel their bodies against one another.

But then Morgan pushed her back just enough and said, "Wait, Mrs. Jacobs. I don't know if this is a good idea....there are far better men then me...."

There it was again, his negative, demeaning comments about himself. Was he simply a self-critical man, a wanderer with nothing to his name but a horse and a rifle? Or was he truly a bad man, as Gretchen and Jose had discussed on multiple occasions?

Reluctantly, she pulled back, diverting her eyes and smoothing her dress down simply because she needed something to do with her hands. In a deeply submissive tone, she said, "Forgive me, Mister Holt. I ... I..."

Gretchen had no idea what she was supposed to say. She turned away suddenly, heading for the door as she said over her shoulder, "I will find Karen and see if she has a shirt you can wear until I launder your own."

And out the door of the home she went. She closed it behind her and then just stood there on the porch for the longest moment. She wanted to go back inside, rip her and Morgan's clothes off, and throw him down on the bed for a hard, energetic fuck. She needed one; there was no doubt there.

But it wasn't right. They didn't know each other well enough for something like that, not in the slightest. No, she would wait right here on the porch for Karen to return, and even then she might continue to remain here while her friend finished with the bandaging.

 

[RidePlayer]

Morgan sighed as he watched Gretchen leave through the door.

This was either gonna come to light sooner or later but if she still kept him around at least then maybe he would earn her trust.

He rose following her out sitting next to her he said "I'm not a good man Mrs. Jacobs."

The one sentence getting her full attention as she looked at him. He said "for starters my name is Morgan Holt not Tom. I've hurt people before Mrs. Jacobs." When he sensed she was about to speak he raised his hand "please let me finish Ma'am."

He went on with his story "I hurt people but only people who were trying to hurt me back. I was abandoned as a boy Mrs. Jacobs grew up with no one till Roland Davis found me."

He chuckled and said "I guess he always had a habit of picking up strays. I rolled with him for over a good decade yeah we robbed people but nothing that was never covered by the bank or business. Never peoples savings directly. Like I said I never hurt no one that wasn't trying to hurt me back and even then I never laid a hand on a woman."

He leaned back in the chair slightly getting comfortable "I reckon I would of been in that life till I was dead a buried or on the business end of a noose in prison. Davis thought we were untouchable though the badest batch of outlaws this side of the missisippi river."

His face got more tense "then someone betrayed us the feds new our hideout how many we had everything alot of people I considered my friends and family were killed or locked up."

He got a look almost like he had survivors guilt "I made my way here from Dodge meant to just get some work lay low and then disappear somewhere in the wilderness where I wouldn't bother nobody."

He looked at Gretchen "I meant what I said Mrs. Jacobs....Gretchen I never meant you or your land or daughter no harm. I'm not with Masterson and never will I jm just a soul not capable of redemption looking to disappear from this world."

His eyes showing his sincerity to the widow.

Seeing Karen on her way back up the road he said "I reckon you want me out of the ranch asap I ask you at least let me get what meager belongings I have in that bunkhouse out first then I'll be on my way."

 

[AmyRoberts]

"I'm not a good man, Mrs. Jacobs," Morgan began his story.

He admitted to the fake name, which Gretchen didn't find surprising at all. Many of the wandering cowboys she'd come to know over the years had been moving about under aliases. And she wasn't surprised to learn that he was an outlaw, wanted even. She would have preferred that he wasn't, of course, but it didn't come as a shock to her.

She actually felt sorry for Morgan for having suffered the life he had had. Over the years, Gretchen had often considered herself the luckiest of people: she'd married a good man, created a home with him, created a child with him -- even though they'd never been able to repeat the act -- and raised that child in relative comfort, considering the world in which they were living at the time.

Her hard luck life had only begun a couple of years before Robert's death, when Henry Masterson began putting the pressure on Gretchen and her husband to sell their land and hit the road.

Karen ambled up the road with a rather disappointed expression on her face; she'd expected to find her own sitting on the porch, listening to the passionate moans and cries of her best friend as she got laid for the first time in a year with only the second man for whom she'd parted her thighs.

"What are you doing back in that nasty, dirty, bloody shirt, Tom," she said as she arrived at the porch. She opened the door, and as she passed through it, she said, "Come on. I'll finish cleaning you up and bandaging you."

After Karen was inside again, Morgan said, "I reckon you want me out of the ranch asap. I ask you at least let me get what meager belongings I have in that bunkhouse out first then I'll be on my way."

As he stood and turned to go inside, Gretchen called to him to wait. She stood but didn't look at him, and after a long moment -- only half glancing his way -- she told him, "I don't want you to go ... Morgan. You're welcome to remain at the ranch if you want. I would prefer you remain at the ranch. Please."

She made eye contact with him for just an instance before telling him, "I'm gonna use your horse to go check on Em'. I'll send Jose back with it within the hour."

She hurried out and swung up into the saddle like a pro, looked to Morgan for a bit longer this time, this smiled meekly to him. Then she spun the horse and was gone at a gallop.

"Get in here," Karen called to Morgan, "before someone out there that you don't wanna see you sees you,"

Once he was inside, she sat Morgan down, got him out of his shirt again, fed him some analgesic powder mixed in whiskey, and wetted a fresh rag in warm water. He was already pretty much cleaned, but he'd bled in two places that Karen cleaned up again. She began bandaging him, giving his muscular body an obvious ogle, even when Morgan looked up into her eyes.

"My friend wants to spend some quality time with you between the mattress and the bedding, Tom," she said bluntly, not knowing about the cowboy's true name. When he met her gaze again, she smiled flirtatiously and added, "If you are planning on sleeping with her, good. She needs it, and you seem to me the kind of guy would could make it worth her while."

She set the rag aside and caressed a dry one over his wounds. They, again bluntly, Karen added, "But if you aren't planning on becoming Gretchen's lover, I just want you to know that there are other women in this town who would find it a pleasure to get naked with you."

Karen hesitated just a moment, then clarified, "I am talking about me, of course."

 

[RidePlayer]

Morgan was relieved seeing the look Gretchen gave him the almost pleading if subdued way she asked him to stay on the ranch.

Watching her ride off to check on Emily he thought 'maybe I'll be able to move on from my past afterall.'

Feeling truly open and free since coming clean a part of him the negative parts still made him worry that Gretchen left to go turn him in.

He knew there money was tight but still his bounty wasn't enough to fix all there troubles but it would certainly help.

He shook those thoughts away though Gretchen asked him to stay pleaded with him almost.

When Karen told him to get inside he entered wondering what she meant about not wanting someone to see him.

Sitting down he noticed the way she ogled him as she recleaned and stiched up the few stragling cuts.

Taking the medicine she offered him as she dressed him he caught the flirty smile she gave she was definitly a woman easy on the eyes.

Hearing her blunt statement he chuckled "i'm not so sure about that Ma'am not with the way she skitted out of here after I kissed her."

Hearing her next statement he said "I'm flattered Ma'am really I am as far if I intend to take Gretchen as a lover again I'm pretty sure I blew that chance."

Still sure about Gretchen's feelings or his own.

 

[AmyRoberts]

"I'm not so sure about that, Ma'am," Morgan told Karen, adding, "not with the way she skittled out of here after I kissed her."

Hmm, they did kiss then, Karen thought to herself as she continued helping the cowboy button the shirt she'd retrieved for him from the closet. It had belonged to her deceased husband, who'd been taller and huskier than Morgan, so it hung rather loose on him, which was actually good considering the bandaged injuries.

"I'm flattered Ma'am, really I am, as far if I intend to take Gretchen as a lover again, I'm pretty sure I blew that chance."

It seemed pretty obvious to Karen that Morgan would still like to take a shot at Gretchen, so she only smiled to the cowboy as she backed away a step. "I'm sure you did no such thing, Tom. While I was in town getting the supplies, I was told more about what happened. You plain ol' made a hero out of yourself today with my friend."

Karen mixed up some of the pain killers in a skin of water, telling Morgan to drink the rest of it before bed time if he had any plans to sleep comfortably tonight. "Have Gretchen change your bandages in the morning. Hot water and a soft touch. I'm sure she'll be more than happy to help."

She said that last with a sly tone and a wink. Hearing hooves beating the dirt nearing the house, she went to the window and saw Jose approaching. He had left the Jacob's Ranch with a second horse even before Gretchen had left Karen's house, and after Gretchen had switched horses, he'd continued to arrive here.

"In case you have mussed things up with Gretchen," Karen told Morgan softly so that Jose didn't hear, "you are always welcome in my bed. I'd like to thank you for saving my friends today, if ever you feel inclined to ... partake of my generosity."

<> <> <> <> <> <>​

At the ranch, Gretchen hurried to Emily and took her daughter into her arms for a tight, reassuring hug. Even before the elder Jacob released the younger one, the latter was asking, "How's Tom? Is he okay? Tell me, is he okay?"

Gretchen gave Emily a recap of the injuries and first aid, adding the true name of their savior. She reassured her daughter that everyone had survived this day just fine and that as far as she could tell, there wasn't going to be any kick back from the Marshall.

"The Masterson's might be a different story, though," Gretchen said, "if they don't heed the Marshall's warning to stay away from us."

They joined Emilia in unloading the wagon and getting all the supplies to where they needed to be.

 

[RidePlayer]

Morgan thanked Jose for bringing his horse back as the two rode back to the ranch.

He informed the long time friend of the Jacobs his real identity and that he had already been welcomed back by Gretchen.

After about a hour they had arrived back at camp just as the last of the supplies were unloaded.

He was prepared for awkwardness wondering if Emily had been told who he really was.

Looking at Gretchen he smiled and put his hat on his chest and said respectfully "thank you for letting me stay Ma'am."


Tomorrow was gonna be a busy day with the rebranding of the cattle.

As they all sat down for a meal it wasn't as nice as the fresh steak from yesterday but it was still hearty and filling the case of whiskey Jose bought and the bottle Morgan had paid for to keep for himself definitely helped to lift peoples spirits.

He caught Gretchen's eyes and though he was sure his words had scared her off he remembered Karen's words and gave a slight raise of his whiskey glass and a smile to the woman who had accepted him even now knowing his past.

 

[AmyRoberts]

Earlier:

After Jose had left to retrieve Morgan and all the supplies had been unloaded and parceled out as appropriate, one of the ranch hand's wives set about preparing a simple dinner for the crew; Emelia was still in a bit of shock, as was Emily, so Gretchen had had them both come to her cabin to deal with the aftermath of the evening. While Emelia laid down in her boss's bed, passing out almost immediately, Emily stripped down and sunk down into a hot bath her mother had drawn for her.

The two Jacobs women delved into a quiet, almost whispered conversation about their new hand and what he'd done for them today. Gretchen knew it was good for Emily to talk about what she'd seen and experienced; she'd never been the victim of violence before, even if it hadn't been anything more this time around than having herself pinned up against a wagon. But they couldn't deny the fact that if the situation had been different -- if Morgan hadn't been there -- one, two, or three women from the Jacobs Ranch could have been raped that day.

And while Gretchen was happy to have a discussion about the day with Emily, she began to get uncomfortable with what her daughter wasn't saying: the teen had obviously become even more enamored with Morgan Holt than her mother already knew her to be.

This, of course, presented two problems. The first was that the last man on this Earth that Gretchen wanted her daughter to become mixed up with was an outlaw, which Morgan himself had admitted himself to be. The second was that Gretchen herself wanted desperately to get naked with the cowboy and once again enjoy the delights and pleasures of passion and -- if he was any good -- the sexual euphoria of orgasm.

"Honey," Gretchen said softly to her daughter after asking Emily to look into her eyes. "Emily, you can't think that way of Mister Holt."

"What way?" the day dreaming teen honestly asked, initially not realizing that her musing during the conversation was revealing her lustful feelings for Morgan. Then it hit her, and instead of becoming embarrassed she became defensive. "Why not? I'm a woman now. I have been for some time. I'm old enough to marry now."

Gretchen couldn't suppress the smile that spread her lips at her daughter's naivete. "Oh, honey, Mister Holt isn't going to marry you. Morgan is an outlaw. He's going to leave soon, as soon as he can put enough money in his pocket to head west for California or east for New Orleans."

"But why, why would he leave us?" Emily asked, the disappointment beginning to show in her expression.

"He's a wanted man, honey," Gretchen said, moving closer and taking her bathing daughter's hands into her own. "Once the Marshall comes to realize who he is, he'll be arrested and taken away. You don't want that, do you?"

The tears began to flow from Emily's eyes, and she sobbed, trying but failing to form words expressing her fear of Morgan being taken away or of leaving on his own. Gretchen moved even closer, taking her daughter's still-wet head into her bosom and hold her tightly.

"Morgan Holt is a good man, but he's a wanted man, too," Gretchen told Emily. "He saved us today, and for that we are going to help him. But helping him means making it possible for him to leave Harland's Grove as soon as possible. I'm sorry."

Emily finished up her bath and dressed in a simple, long dress; her hair was pulled back in an equally simple pony tail. They helped with the final touches of dinner, and before they ventured outside to the camp fire and picnic table at which the others were sitting, Gretchen reminded Emily of what they'd discussed.

"Maintain yourself, child," Gretchen told Emily, kissing her forehead. She clarified that by adding, "Maintain your distance, honey. Don't make this hard on yourself by becoming even more attached to Mister Holt."

Reluctantly, Emily responded, "Yes, momma."

Outside, as they were putting the last bits of the simple dinner out for everyone to eat, Morgan came up to Gretchen with hat in hand, saying "Thank you for letting me stay Ma'am."

"Of course, I wouldn't have it any other way," Gretchen told him with a smile. "You saved us this afternoon, Mister Holt."

She specifically didn't use either of his given names, real or faux. Like her advice to her daughter, Gretchen was trying to maintain herself, maintain her distance. That didn't mean she could entirely keep her eyes off of him through the evening, though. During conversations with the crew -- discussion that filled with disgust of and also fear of Henry Masterson, his son, and their crew -- Gretchen found herself glancing at Morgan often, smiling gently, then diverting her eyes and returning to the conversation at hand.

She also looked to her daughter often, to see how she was handling what had happened in the town today. Emily looked crushed, and it hurt Gretchen to see her that way. Her gaze rarely left the plate of food before her, and with the exception of nibbling at a piece of garlic flavored bread, her food never left the plate either.

Then, Emily stood, strode over to stand before Morgan, and -- without ever looking up to meet his eyes -- she told him with a meek but sincere tone, "Thank you, Mister Holt, for saving me and my momma and Emelia today. You are a good man, and I hope you stay safe and find what you need in life to be happy."

And before Morgan could say anything, the teen turned and hurried off back to her and her mother's cabin. By the time she reached it, she was again sobbing, enough so that Gretchen was able to hear the sad sounds. The older Jacob stood, thanked the others for helping with the meal, and -- being sure to look at Morgan once to ensure that he knew she meant him -- told one and all, "This was a trying and exhausting day, and we all performed at our very best to keep our loved ones and this ranch safe and operational, and you all know I'd give you each a bag of gold if I could. But for now, finish off this wonderful food, have a drink of Jose's whiskey but not too much -- we're branding tomorrow -- and I'll see you all in the morning."

She received a hug from Emelia and the other ranch wife, gave Morgan one last smile, and headed inside. She found Emily crying in her bed, as expected, and moving there took her daughter into her hands for a long comforting hug.

"I love him," Emily sobbed, adding, "I love him so much, and I don't want him to leave."

Gretchen wasn't sure how to respond to her daughter's declaration. She remembered being 14 and falling in love at first sight with her husband of nearly two decades. That had been a case of lust from a girl whose body was being burned from within by hormones, not that she or anyone else knew what hormones were, of course. And Emily's desire for Morgan was driven by those same hormones, only this time after they'd been burning within her for years, not just weeks or months as had happened to Gretchen at that young age.

"I know, honey, I know," she told her daughter, "but ... you'll get over it. You want to believe that he is the right man for you, Em' ... but we both know he isn't. And after he leaves, and after all this shit between us and Masterson ends, things will change, and you'll meet a new man who is the right man, and you'll fall in love again and get married and have a daughter and then you can figure out what to say to her when she falls in love with a handsome outlaw."

They couldn't resist it: they both chuckled, squeezing each other tighter and teasing about how hard it was at times to have or be a girl. Eventually, Emily laid down in her bed and fell fast to sleep, and after doing a few last minute chores, Gretchen did the same.

Unable to get to sleep, the Widow Jacob got out of bed and went to the window to stare out on the bunkhouse for a long while. She found herself almost walking out to the cowboys' sleeping quarters and inviting Morgan Holt for a walk and a fuck. But she went back to bed instead, and knowing that her daughter slept like the dead, she pulled her nightgown up past her groin, laid a rag at the meeting of her thighs to soak up the mess she knew she would make, and fingered herself long and slowly until the pleasure built and she was forced to pull her pillow over her head to dampen the sounds of her badly needed climax.

 

[RidePlayer]

Morgan couldn't sleep that night he laid in the bunkhouse and sighed.

He could tell the atmosphere at dinner had changed.

Figuring the woman were keeping there distance now knowing he was.

That was probably for the best.

Sighing again he said "I need a drink."

Walking out he went to his horse and rode back into Herald's Grove.

Walking to the bar he ordered a shot of whiskey.

Hearing a familiar voice saying "long time no see stranger." Looking over his shoulder at pearl he said "good evening Ma'am."

She smiled flitingly at him and said "you look down cowboy I think I know what will cheer you up."

Morgan politely shook his head and said "not tonight Ma'am as much as I enjoy your company."

 

[AmyRoberts]

Pearl was delighted to see Morgan Holt -- who she still knew as Tom -- once again in her place of employment. She'd thoroughly enjoyed her first two encounters with him, coming away from them with a sexually satisfied body and a purse full of money.

"Good evening Ma'am," Morgan responded to her musing about how it had been a while.

She didn't like that tone; it was the not tonight tone. She spoke about what he needed, but as she was fearing, he told her, "Not tonight Ma'am as much as I enjoy your company."

Pearl studied Morgan for a moment, tapping the bar with a ringed finger that was her way of telling the man behind it that she wanted a shot of her good stuff. She gestured two fingers to the bartender, and he poured a brandy for Morgan as well.

"Are you in love with this woman?" Pearl asked as she pushed the shot glass to her currently-favorite patron. "This Widow Jacobs, she is a fair looking woman, and if I was a man, I'd likely want to bed her as well."

She downed her drink, contemplating on the irony that she didn't at all need to be a man to enjoy the pleasures of other women, as Kim Jinjing could attest if such a girl-with-girl affair was something one talked about with others.

"And she has property, a ranch, a place where a cowboy such as yourself could be happy," Pearl continued, studying Morgan's face as she continued. She moved up closer to him, reaching out to caress a gentle finger over his face near his very well executed stitches. "I wouldn't blame you for thinking you're in love with her."

She said the last with a sincere tone, not a critical one. Then, moving closer again, Pearl told Morgan, "If you want to go upstairs with me, Tom, you can close your eyes and pretend you're with her. I won't charge you."

 

[RidePlayer]

Morgan listened to Pearl as she ordered two brandy's he had to admit the liquor was good.

He said "yes Mrs. Jacobs is a good looking woman but she deserves alot better than me."

He sipped the brandy "I could never settle down here Ma'am not with Mrs. Jacobs or anyone plus I'm sure if she did have any inkling of feelings for me it ended when I rejected her after she patched me up."

Hearing her proposal to be her surrogate for him he said "I suppose I could use the distraction Pearl."

This time he was smart "Tom Holt make sure someone wakes me up so I can make it back to the ranch before sunrise can't be late anymore."

He followed the woman up to a room. Once the door was closed he pulled her tight against her body seazing her in the kiss he would of continued with Gretchen had he not stoped her earlier that day.

Hands gripping her hips as he pulled her against his body.

 

[AmyRoberts]

"I suppose I could use the distraction Pearl," Morgan said when Pearl offered him a roll in the sack upstairs.

"I do that well," she said, chuckling as she clarified, "Distract people from the trials and tribulations of their lives."

Upstairs, after he's taken her into his arms for an intimate hug and passionate kiss, Pearl began undressing Morgan slowly while -- again -- Rosie filled the wooden keg bathtub with hot water from the next room. Pearl turned her back to the cowboy and told him how to properly untie her working clothes and soon she and the outlaw were both standing naked in the bedroom, holding one another for another passionate embrace.

They slipped down into the tub, and Pearl moved into position above Morgan's groin. Grasping his hard shaft, she placed it and lowered herself slowly upon it. It took a moment more to envelope him; not only was his the longest and thickest cock she was pleasuring these days, but Pearl hadn't actually had a man inside her since the last time she and Morgan lay together in her bed.

Once she was fully sitting in his lap, grimacing a bit as she once again got used to his size, she pressed her mouth to his in a soft but erotic kiss on the lips, then pulled his head back and began making love to his neck. She kissed his ear, nibbled on it gently, licked it ... and then whispered in a seductive tone, "You can call me Gretchen, Tom. It's okay."

She squeezed the muscles of her pussy hard around his shaft, listening to and feeling his reaction, then -- still whispering -- urged him, "Call me Gretchen, Tom."

Pearl was a bit conflicted about what she was doing. It had often been part of her job as a whore to fulfill men's fantasies. She couldn't count the number of times men had wanted her to play the part of some beautiful woman for whom they had deeply felt sexual urges but with whom they would never find themselves naked.

Ironically, of course, Morgan wasn't paying her for this particular fuck, let alone the fantasy of which she was urging him to partake. This was a freebee, something she'd only done maybe a half dozen times in her career, whether for a man who was hurting emotionally or for a virgin who needed to get laid but would never in a million years be able to afford her.

The irony part was, though, for the most part about Pearl's feelings for Morgan. She had dreams of getting the hell out of Harland's Grove, just as Morgan himself had a need to get out of here, one step ahead of the law. She had some savings and probably could have left today if she'd wanted. And while she often awoke with the first thought in her mind being Todays the day I pack my bags, since she'd met Morgan Holt ten days or so ago, Pearl's thoughts on escaping the town alone had changed to contemplation of not going alone.

Now, however, she wondered whether or not that would happen. Morgan was obviously in lust with -- maybe even in love with the Widow Jacobs. And Pearl didn't blame him. She was a beautiful woman with property and stock, just what a wandering cowboy like Morgan Holt needed.

As she began lifting and lowering her body over her lover, taking about half of the cowboy's length in and out of her warm, wet canal, Pearl wondered whether or not the pleasure she caused him -- added to his unrealistic thoughts of being with Gretchen -- was enough to convince Morgan to leave Harland's Grove with her as soon as possible.

 

[RidePlayer]

Morgan let out a moan as there embrace grew hot and heavy. His cock growing hard with desire as they got in the tub.

When Pearl sank down onto his cock. The feel of her lips on his ear and neck sent ripples of pleasure through the man as he griped her ass in response.

Hearing her words before she began to ride him slowly but picking up speed he grunted out hesitantly at first "fuck....GRETCHEN!" he did picture what it would be like If the widow was on the one on his cock riding him with wild abandon.

His cock twitched inside her pussy as he soon exploded. Pearl tensing on him as he saw the tell tale signs of her own orgasm.

When she regained composure he guided her to the bed. Not careing too much about there wet state as he laid her down and slid inside her again.

Kissing her deeply as he said "pearl" using her name as he was slower this time.

Driving his cock deep inside her with slow long thrusts.

He was quickly starting to work himself up to another orgasm urged on by Pearl's gasps for him to go faster.

He soon came with a rush once again filling her with his cum.

They had sex two more times that night both coming to release close together.

The next morning when someone knocked on the room door for the wake up call Morgan had requested he stirred suprised that pearl was still there arm around him.

He gently tried not to wake her as he started to slip his clothes on though pearl started to wake seeing him get dressed for his day on the ranch.

 

[AmyRoberts]

"Fuck....GRETCHEN!"

Pearl was conflicted about how to feel about Morgan taking her up on his offer to role play fucking the Widow Jacobs. She shouldn't have, of course: she did this often with men of all natures who had fantasies and kinks of even more natures.

But Pearl had developed feelings for Morgan that she hadn't had for another man since early in her life. And yet, she purred into the cowboy's ear as their passion grew all sorts of sexy, sweet nothings that included the details of how Morgan had saved her -- Gretchen, that is -- today and about how she -- again, Gretchen -- wanted to thank him for all he'd done.

The fantasy worked apparently, as Morgan's cock was leaping inside Pearl sooner than it ever had before. Again, Pearl was conflicted. But she was a professional, and to further the fantasy, she cried out in orgasm just moments after he had moaned out his, despite the fact that Morgan hadn't yet pushed her to the point of explosion.

But the night was still young, and after he'd taken her to the bed and used her own name as he thrusted deeply into her, Pearl grasped Morgan's body tightly and mirrored his movements to reach her own real orgasm this round.

It would be another long, passionate night, like their first one, and Pearl curled up into Morgan's arms intent on spending the night with him. When she stirred the next morning, she sat up in the bed to watch him finish dressing for work. Her fair skinned, seemingly-gravity-defying breasts and their ever-pert pink nipples were on full display to him as he pulled on his boots and stood to leave.

"I'm leaving Harland's Grove, Morgan," she said as he cinched up his gun belt. She watched for his reaction to her using his real given name, something she'd learned days earlier from another cowboy who'd spotted and recognized him in the bar. "I just wanted you to know. I ... I thought ... I hoped you would want to know."

She hesitated again, then explained, "I'm leaving day after tomorrow."

Pearl was about to add I want you to come with me, but instead she only said, "The stage leaves in the late morning."

 

[RidePlayer]

Morgan froze at first when she mentioned his real name suprised she had learned it.

The rest of her words sank in soon after.

He had sliped his shirt on by now and could tell she was sudtly asking him to come with her.

He said "I appreciate the offer Ma'am but that ranch needs me those people need me. Since you know my real name I feel like im not a man who is capable of redemption. The least I can do to make up some of my sins is help them out."


He paused for a moment looking at Pearl "maybe if I had met you first things would be differn't. I'll be sure to see you off though."

He gave her one last look of longing as he sliped out the door riding back to Jacobs Ranch.

He arrived just before everyone would be getting ready for the day. He thought for a moment 'should I go with her?'

Looking up at Gretchen heading out to start the day as he hitched his horse he got a new sense of resolve to help this place.

 

[AmyRoberts]

(OOC: I found a better picture of Erin Cottrell, the woman's whose image I am using for Gretchen.)


"I appreciate the offer Ma'am," Morgan began his apologies for choosing staying in Harland's Grove with the Widow Jacobs -- with whom Pearl knew he wanted to be lovers -- over leaving the town with the woman he was already fucking. "Maybe if I had met you first, things would be differn't."

Pearl didn't react, with expression or words: she'd expected that to be Morgan's response, either that or simply turning and walking out the door in silence.

"I'll be sure to see you off though."

Now, Pearl smiled, thanking the cowboy. She laid back in the bed again, pulling the bedding upwards to hide her body and eliminate any temptation on Morgan's part to delay his work day out on the ranch. A moment later, he was gone.

Later that day or perhaps in the days to come, Morgan Holt would hear that Madam Pearl had lit out that very day on the morning stage. She took a single bag with her, that and a Chinese girl who lived behind a laundry down the street, leaving all her fancy, scanty clothes and dozens of gifts that had been given to her by adoring men over the years.

<> <> <> <> <> <>​

The next few days were very difficult for Gretchen. She was repeatedly face to face with the man who she so desperately wanted between her legs. She took on the continued responsibility of tending to Morgan's most serious wounds -- the cut over his eye and a back wound that had festered -- and because she feared that the intimacy might be overwhelming, she always conducted the care out on the porch of the bunkhouse, with at least Jose, Emelia, or one of the other guys in attendance.

Gretchen and Emily had more often than not eaten lunch or dinner or both with the ranch crew, either out at the large table near the fire pit that sat in the middle of the buildings or out in the field when the men were working the herd or fences. Lately, though, the two Jacobs women were taking their meals inside their own home. Gretchen felt almost traitorous in not eating with the others, but once again she was simply trying to avoid spending too much time around Morgan.

And it wasn't just herself for whom Gretchen was concerned: Emily was heartbroken over Morgan. She had let her mother know of her love for the cowboy following the event in town, and Gretchen had laid it out not only that there was no future for the two of them but that it would also be tragic for Emily to spend time around the man.

"It will only hurt you, honey," Gretchen had pleaded with her daughter. "Please. Morgan Holt will leave soon. He must. He can't stay in Harland's Grove much longer. He knows that. We know that."

"And you're going to help him leave?" Emily had asked on more than one occasion since that day.

"Yes," Gretchen had told her daughter. "I will give him some money, extra money. I owe him. He saved your life. He saved my little girl's life."

Both of them were torn by Gretchen's decision to slip Morgan some extra money for his escape: neither of them wanted him to leave, but each of them knew he must. Even the rest of the crew understood, and -- against Gretchen's wishes -- when Emelia one day overheard the two Jacob women speaking on the issue of money for Morgan, she went to her husband with the news and each of the men on the crew donated $2 of their own meager fortunes to help.

<> <> <> <> <> <>​

Gretchen, Emily, and most of the ranch crew exited the front door of the Harland's Grove Church following Sunday Service, each of them trading farewells with the Pastor and his newlywed wife.

Three of the four women of the ranch loaded up in the buckboard; Emily had been invited to lunch with the Pastor's wife to meet the new Schoolmarm. The men mounted their horses, with some of them riding back to the ranch with the wagon and others dispersing to who knows where.

The saloon was closed on Sundays, of course, but some of the others headed off to who knows where to find an elusive bottle of whiskey. Gretchen had heard rumors that the backdoor of the saloon was open to give access to the whore house upstairs, where drinks could be found along side fallen women.

The issue with the Masterson's seemed to be over. The Marshall's warnings to young Mitchell -- as well as the beat down Morgan had given two of the Masterson ranch hands -- had resulted in the crew of that ranch pretty much staying out of town for the past week except to purchase supplies, and even then they were always escorted by Henry Masterson who was there to keep them under control.

Gretchen had decided that it was time to let Morgan go. He'd done his part here, and he needed to get away before someone who was looking for reward money recognized him and turned him into the Marshall.

After the returning crew had had their lunch and dispersed to enjoy their one day a week free of toil, Gretchen asked Morgan if he would take a walk with her. She asked him to meet her down at the creek; she didn't want to be seen departing with him, alone together. Gretchen was no idiot, though, and she knew that if anyone came looking for either of them, one plus one would equal the two of them off together in private, and then the rumor mill would come alive.

When she arrived and found him at the agreed upon location, Gretchen handed Morgan a folded up bit of cloth tied closed with a string. She didn't tell him what it was, instead only telling him, "This is for you, to open tonight. Right now, I'd like to talk to you, please."

What she didn't tell him but what he would learn later was that the little package contained $84 in paper money. It was the crew's donations plus Morgan's as-of-yet-unpaid wages plus a bit more from her savings. In truth, it was her savings.

As they turned to walk side by side along the creek, moving in and out of the shadows of the large trees growing there in the slightly wetter ground, she told him again how much his bravery that day in town had meant to her, as well as all the hard work he'd put in helping with the ranch. She was taking her time speaking her words, knowing that with every word -- and every step -- they were increasing the distance between them and the ranch houses and, in particular, the people in and around them on this beautiful Sunday afternoon.

"This is one of my favorite places on the ranch," she said when they arrived at a beautiful location near a bend in the creek, adding, "In the world, actually."

The sun shone down on the rippling water of the stream, with birds playing at the edge while some sort of four legged furry creature repeatedly poked its head out a hole on the far bank, checking out the two legged less furry creatures on the opposite shore.

Shade from a grove of tall, thick deciduous trees casted shade down upon a small patch of short grass that was much greener than the surrounding, browning prairie beyond the grove. Gretchen opened the basket she was carrying, removed a blanket, and asked Morgan to help her lay it out. Once it was flat, she handed him the basket, telling him to unload the lunch she had packed for them.

While he did that, Gretchen sat on an old rotting log, untied her boots, lifted her skirt a bit, and waded into the stream almost up to her knees. Again, she told Morgan how much this place meant to her as she headed back onto dry land in her wet, bared feet. Then, standing over the blanket and Morgan, Gretchen explained why -- as she began unfastening her clothing.

"I'm pretty sure that this is where I conceived my daughter," Gretchen said as she unbuckled the belt about her waist. The leather restraint did nothing to undress her but only made it possible for her to reach both hand to the small of her back to begin unfastening the buttons of her skirt. "Robert, my husband ... had been away buying cattle before he returned home to make love to me right here, on this same blanket."

The skirt fell to gather around her ankles, and will a little tugging, Gretchen's slip fell away to gather atop the grass as well. She had beautiful, long, fit legs, and because she'd heard stories of how most men liked them hair-free, she'd carefully shaved smooth this morning before Church.

"He'd had to leave again that night," Gretchen continued, now slowly unbuttoning her blouse as she looked right into the cowboy's eyes. "Houston this time, something having to do with the deed to the ranch. He got delayed by a terrible storm, a hurricane they called it, that washed out or flooded the roads, and he didn't get back for nearly three weeks."

The front of her blouse was opened now, the lapels apart just enough to reveal that she was wearing nothing more underneath it to contain her still shapely bosom. She unbuttoned the sleeves of the blouse as she continued, "Nine months after that wonderful afternoon here on the blanket, Emily was born."

Gretchen reached to one shoulder after the other and pulled the blouse away. It fell to the ground as well, leaving her standing before Morgan in nothing more than a pair of panties. The so very pink nipples of her still firm breasts had swollen large in the cool breeze, and a flood of gooseflesh washed over her for a moment.

Gretchen showed no signs of shyness or hesitation in moving to the blanket and lowering to her knees before Morgan as she asked softly, "Will you make love to me here, Morgan Holt, here in the shade of the trees in my most favorite place in the world?"

 

[RidePlayer]

Morgan had been a bit heartbroken when Pearl left.

He didn't blame her though or for sneaking of after that day despite knowing he said he would come to see her off.

Maybe it was for the best best that they part ways quickly like getting a cauterization for a bullet wound quick and done.

The next week he had kept busy in his work on the ranch.

Again he could tell things had been differn't between him and the Jacobs woman even when Gretchen worked on his injuries she kept others around.

He started to wonder if he should of taken Pearls sudtle offer but he swore to himself to help these folks one good act in his life despite everything he did.

One day Gretchen had wanted him to go with her for a walk. Giving him a package but asking him to open it later.

As they walked he once again listened to Gretchen thank him.

Telling her that no thanks was necessary when they came to a bend in the creek that Gretchen had described as her favorite place.

Listening to her recount the story of conceiving Emily he watched as the widow began to undress before him.

The woman still a vision of beauty despite raising a child.

Hearing her request he said "Gretchen....I..."

He then began loosening his gunbelt letting it fall to the floor.

The hesitation gone as well as he wanted to claim this woman who had accepted him despite his past.

He reached her pulling her gently but firmly up to hold her in a tight embrace. Kissing her deeply as his hands roamed over her hips and cupped her ass.

He felt her hands go to begin working on his shirt and trousers.

Soon his clothes joined hers on the ground as he guided back onto her back.

Kissing her again he moved licking and sucking the tender flesh of her neck.

 

[AmyRoberts]

Gretchen was absolutely shocked at how her body reacted to being held and caressed and groped by Morgan. She couldn't believe how much sexual energy had been pent up inside of her in just this last year. Once he was down to his underwear and their otherwise naked bodies were firmly pressed together as one, she wrapped her arms around his head and pulled his mouth to hers in a desperate kiss.

"Make love to me," she begged finally, moving urging Morgan onto the blanket. She straddled him, her own knees outside his own, and returned to the frantic kisses; the wetness between her thighs pressed down upon the underside of his erection, and she began rubbing her already slick folds up and down his length. Then, reaching down between their bodies, Gretchen took hold of his cock and positioned it to enter her. "Ge gentle to me, Morgan. It's been some time."

 

[RidePlayer]

Morgan moaned into the passionate kiss.

Loving the way Gretchen laid on top of him in a heated kiss.

Hearing her words he said "I promise to take it easy Gretchen." Using her given name.

He rolled her onto her back assaulting her neck and breasts with his tongue and mouth.

He loved the swell of her breasts still firm despite having a adult child of her own.

He licked and sucked the nipples to hard peaks.

Rolling the nub with his tongue.

He kissed lower and lower as he said "Can I taste you Gretchen?"

 

[Ravishing]

Gretchen felt the tip of him against her wetness right there, and then she held her breath a little as first he rolled her over on that blanket. It causes her to make a breathless sound, red hair flying everywhere. Yet it didn't stop her from seeing his mouth lowering to her nipple first. A muffle of the resulting intake of breath at it, Morgan's tongue, in its own way erasing some of the trepidation she might have felt from the swift roll.

That clearly skilled lips were kissing down her midriff, then over her very slight tummy that personally she hated. But it was merely proof of her having had her child, it added to those more womanly curves she had which weren't too far from the ones she'd had from those early years! Slightly lifting her head, looking down the valley between perky breasts. Had her seeing a view which just made her want to bite her lip, you know in that, omg is this real? way. Hearing those words, Gretchen found she could only nod to him. But it was the nod of a woman who'd decided to show Morgan everything he'd be missing. Were he to go. Or so the little voice in the back of her mind told her.

Fingers unbidden of their own sought to trail his shoulders then..