"Blood and Guns" (closed)

[SandS13]

Every time he spoke of protecting her, concerned about her well being Lillian felt a growing affection for him. He meant it, they were not casual comments. Something about Vance and his words struck her as true and heart felt. He did not make such statements lightly.

"Let me do this. I need -" How could she explain to him that she needed to occupy her mind so she did not think on what had occurred or the death that awaited her family when they returned.

She gathered up the water, rags, a needle and thread. "I have very neat embroidery perhaps you can guide me...I have never sewn flesh be-"

The words died in her mouth as she turned to find him bare chested. For a moment she did not move, her eyes took in the scars. He was not like her deceased husband at all. Bruce had been fit but it was in a way that gentlemen who keep somewhat active are. Clearly Vance was used to much harder labour and more physical endeavors. The sight of his blood caused her to move once more.

Lillian crossed to him and began wetting a rag. "Hold this on there while I thread the needle."

She pushed the thread through the small hole. There was flecks of his blood on her hands but she didn't care. She approached. "I don't have anything for the pain...I am sorry..."

Lillian moved the rag away. His blood was no longer seeping from the wound. She was glad. His body seemed good at healing, a good sign. "I will try to be gentle."

She slid the needle in. Skin was different than fabric, a little less yielding. Still she tried to work quick with neat stitches. When she was done she straightened, finding herself close to him once more. Lillian looked up.

"Given what occurred tonight I feel that you, shirtless in my room as I see your wound is the least of my uncle's concerns."

Unthinking, a hand was placed on his bare chest. She traced a scar with her fingertip.

"Those men, they had a message for Johnathan. This was not random." Lillian shivered.

She barely resisted the urge to step in and press against him for warmth. Only years of lessons kept her from giving in. "We should wash the wound..."

 

[DeadManTyping]

"I don't have anything for the pain...I am sorry..."

"I'll be fine, Lillian," he said, trying to act more manly man than was really necessary. Truthfully, yet again just wanting her to believe he was being brave and strong, Vance told her, "I don't feel anything, really. It's not that bad."

"I will try to be gentle."

As she moved the needle close to his torso, Vance tensed his body in feigned anticipation of the tip's pain. As she stuck him, he winced, giving a little groan. Again trying to act tough, he said with a smile, "Okay, it hurts a little bit."

Vance feigned a little twitch with each of the needle pricks, then finally again as she tugged the thread into a knot. He was glad she finished quickly, as the wound had been slowly closing and healing with every passing second. But a lack of a shocked look from Lillian reassured Vance that she hadn't noticed anything unexpected.

Then, the unexpected happened: Lillian lifted a hand up to his bare chest, tracing one of the more serious wounds, a souvenir from a short stint Vance had had as a pirate in the Caribbean during the early 18th century. And again, Vance became quickly and regretfully aware of the swelling taking place down below his gun belt. He casually moved his hands closer to one another in an effort to block Lillian's view of his groin.

"Those men, they had a message for Johnathan. This was not random."

Vance hadn't clearly heard the now dead Buck's message to Lillian earlier, but he'd heard Johnathan's name mentioned. "Nothing about which you need to be concerned, Lillian. I will talk to Johnathan about this."

He wasn't certain whether or not his assurance was good enough for Lillian. And, to be honest, he wasn't entirely sure she'd even heard the words. Although her finger tip had left his chest, her eyes were still examining the collection of scars. Or ... was she only ogling his muscular, fit torso?

"We should wash the wound..."

"I'll do it," he said, taking the clean cloth from her hands and stepping aside. He wasn't sure whether or not during or after the mayhem it had occurred to Lillian to be concerned, but he informed her, "Your house servant is downstairs in the hall, injured. You should check on him. I'll be fine. Besides, I have to deal with the bodies. We can't have your family riding up to find the aftermath of a battle field at their doorstep."

(OOC: I was going to write more but I ran out of time.)

 

[SandS13]

Vance said he would clean the wound and Lillian finally stepped away, giving him more space. It was wrong of her to have done that and despite her fear and the after effects of what had happened she should have been better behaved.

She moved away to clean her hands. Looking back over her shoulder she watched him for a moment.

Nothing she needed to be concerned with. It seemed that if something was a potential threat all of the Stewart’s needed to be concerned. She never would have come here if there had been such a risk.

Lillian wanted to know everything that led to this. She was certain it had to do with cards, money and most likely a debt. For it to be so bad that they would come to rob them and worse meant Johnathan had been holding back on them all.

What if Anna had stayed home? What if something had happened to the baby because of the attack?

She pushed that away as Vance reminded her of the staff and the bodies. Lillian rushed past Vance and out of her room. She was down the stairs, holding her nightgown up just enough that she didn’t trip on it.

There was no one in the front hall. She moved to the parlour. Only a dead body greeted her. The front door was open and she could see the bodies there too.

“Vance! I don’t see Tilly!” Fear gripped her stomach once more. What if there had been more of them, laying in wait? What if they were in the house now?

A hand went to her stomach as Lillian looked this way and that. “Vance..”

All there seemed to be was death around her. Where was Tilly?
-------------------
For her part Tilly had come to with a throbbing cheek and a sense of panic. She immediately looked around the parlour and out the door. She saw the dead men laying around but no sign of anyone else.

Skirt lifted she ran down the road, away from the ranch and into town. She needed to find the Stewart’s.

By the time she was running down the main road every part of her hurt. The dark skin of her legs was covered in a layer of dust and her lungs burned. Tilly spotted the carriage and made a break for it.

Luck had it that Mabel was just getting into the carriage. Anna was already inside and Jenny was waiting her turn. The men stood to the side waiting for the women. Benjamin was smoking a cigar.

Despite panic, tears and coaxing the story, as Tilly knew it came out. No one knew what happened to Lillian or how the men ended up dead but they were all piled into the carriage. Mabel and Jenny were looking after Anna, fearing this might cause labour. The men were stormy, especially Johnathan.

The carriage took off for the ranch.

 

[DeadManTyping]

Vance dipped the cloth into the water Lillian had poured from a pitcher into a large bowl. He wiped it carefully across his belly, carefully not because he feared causing himself additional pain -- which he wouldn't feel, of course -- but because feared tearing the stitches loose.

“Vance! I don’t see Tilly!”

He sensed the terror in Lillian's voice, and honestly he was more concerned about her worry over the housekeeper than about the housekeeper herself. He snatched up and donned his coat and headed for Lillian, buttoning his shirt as he went.

“Vance.”

"I'm here," he called as he stepped out onto the porch. He reached out to take Lillian's hand, squeezing it as he assured her, "I'm sure she's fine."

Vance could be certain of that, because he knew that all the Iron Club men who'd ridden out to the ranch this night were dead. His senses had been at their height upon his arrival, and if there had been others, he would have known.

"Go back inside," he told her with a soft voice. "I'll find her. Trust me."

He wasn't sure whether she'd do as he asked any more than when he'd asked her to go upstairs earlier. Didn't matter, really. He descended the stairs and gave a loud whistle, something to which the dealer at the stables had told Vance the horse would respond.

He surveyed the ground before the porch for a long moment, studying the trails of boot and shoe prints; and despite the darkness Vance was able to decipher the movement that had taken place before the house as easily as if he were reading a book under lantern light. He could tell where the two carriages had been standing when they'd been boarded by the Stewart family; he could tell which of the Stewarts had boarded each and even in which order they'd boarded; he could tell where the Iron Club men had ridden up, where they'd dismounted, and where they'd walked.

And he could tell that Tilly had fled the house and run down the road. Her tracks were superimposed over the previous trails, heading away from the house into the distant darkness. His horse trotted up to within a few steps, thinking she would be getting a treat as she had during her breaking and further training. Vance went to and swung up onto the horse, turning it for the road and tapping his heels into her sides.

Although he may have seemed as though he was off to save the servant, Vance's true reason for heading off into the night was to intercept the Stewart family. And a few minutes later he did just that, coming to a stop at the sight of the two carriages hurrying up the road. The carriages slowed and stopped just short of Vance, who walked his horse around to near where a still frightened house servant sat.

"Lillian is safe and unhurt, Tilly," Vance told the woman. The servant's face showed immediate relief. Vance looked to Benjamin, telling him, "Some men attacked the house..."

He specifically did not say attacked Lillian. He continued, "...seven of them ... but I stopped them before they could do any harm."

There were several quickly asked questions about what had happened and about how Lillian was dealing with it and more. But Vance let them go unanswered, instead looking to Benjamin and advising, "It would be better if the women went back to town for a bit. Maybe get some dessert. They could even stay the night in my room at the Golden Eagle."

Again, there were questions, mostly about why they couldn't go home but -- again -- about Lillian.

"Did you shoot all those men?" Jenny asked suddenly. "Are they all dead?"

Vance looked to the woman and was surprised by her expression. She looked ... what was the word ... joyful? Delighted? Oh, not about the threat to Lillian, of course. But about the shooting.

"We should go to the ranch, just us men," Vance said in almost a whisper to Benjamin. "I did my job, in a sense ... and now ... it's time to clean--"

Benjamin dismounted from the coach as he cut in and ordered all the women to join Tilly in the first coach. There were arguments, of course: most of the women wanted to be with Lillian. But Benjamin was firm and demanded they do as he said.

 

[SandS13]

Lillian didn’t hear him come down the stairs or outside to her. She did feel his hand when it took hers. The squeeze instantly helped calm some of her fears.

Vance told her to go and for a moment she stood there. He walked down the stairs, whistled and began looking at the ground. Lillian didn’t want to leave him. It felt to her that if she did something might happen and he would end up like the men on the ground.

A shiver ran through her, her arms wrapped around herself. She was no use to him out here, like this. Lillian turned and went back inside. She closed the front door and went up to her room. She wished her room had a lock. Moving her dressing table chair she wedged it under the door handle. It would not stop any who truly wanted in but it would give her time.

Lillian moved to the window and looked out at the scene below. She could see bodies on the ground and Vance as he mounted his horse and headed off.

She was alone. Alone with the dead.

Lillian moved to the side of her bed, away from the door and sat on the floor. She tried to make herself as small as possible. What if people were hiding in the pasture or even the barn? What if they saw Vance leave and decided to come into the house?

She pushed her forehead to her knees and closed her eyes.
----------------------------------
There was bickering, mostly between Jenny and the younger men. She wanted to return to the ranch. To check on Lillian of course, but also to see what had happened. The idea that Vance had killed ruthless men intent on vile acts excited her. It was like an adventure story.

Mabel squeezed Benjamin’s hand and firmly told the women to sit as they were leaving. She and Benjamin had built the ranch, worked for what they had. Nothing would scare them away. She knew the men would see to things. She was however quite happy that Vance had come into their employ. They would have to find a way to genuinely thank him.

The women got rooms at the Golden Eagle that night. Despite Jenny’s desire to have Vance’s old room Mabel put Anna and Tilly in there. She wanted the housegirl to watch over Anna in case the stress of it all caused issues.
-------------
The men arrived back at the ranch. Johnathan was agitated. Benjamin looked stern and angry though he said nothing. Maxwell’s anger was smoldering and directed solely at his brother. He knew it was either poachers getting far more daring or something his brother had done to bring this on them.

For a moment the three stood outside staring at the bodies that lay about their property. With a gesture of his hand Benjamin sent Maxwell and Johnathan to check on the land, around the house. He went inside to inspect the damage.

Bodies, some disrupted furniture in the parlour where it seemed a struggle occured. Given the body’s odd angles Benjamin reasoned Vance got the jump on the man and that his new hire was skilled in more than just a gun.

They regrouped out front.

“We have to call the sheriff.” Maxwell’s tone was cold and harsh. “They have to be brought to justice.”

“Who? They are all dead. Who would you have him arrest? Us? Vance?” Johnathan spat back at his brother. “We need to get rid of the bodies.”

“Someone is going to come looking for these men. Do we even know who they are or why they were here?” Maxwell shot back.

“Poachers likely, saw us leave.” Johnathan looked away towards the pasture.

“Right. Then we should let the sheriff know that we caught poachers.” Maxwell fumed.

“What good with that do?” Johnathan raised his voice.

 

[DeadManTyping]

As the sons aided the women into their carriage for the ride back toward town, Benjamin noted the blood stain that Vance had been attempting to hide behind his partially buttoned jacket. He asked softly, as to not alert the others, "Is that anything we need to have tended to."

Vance inconspicuously fastened another couple of buttons, then only shook his head lightly.

Still quietly, Benjamin -- who knew the things a mean man could do to a women -- asked in that same soft voice, "Lillian is truly well and safe?”

"No one laid a hand on her," Vance lied.

He'd expected the question and had been ready with his false return. As Benjamin knew what a man could do to a woman, Vance also knew the shame a woman bore -- despite no blame of her own -- for having had such things done to her. Vance was not going to be party to having Lillian with that shame if he could help it. He would rather lie to Benjamin and have to explain the lie later if Lillian told the truth that to tell the truth now and make Lillian deal with the aftermath.

Remembering how much interest that he had shown in Lillian to date, and recalling Benjamin's comment the day before that essentially confirmed the patriarch had noticed that interest, Vance quickly added to cover all men who had been on the ranch this evening, "No one ... laid a hand on her, sir."

Benjamin had in fact thought the thought. But, he hadn't for a moment considered it a possibility. He hurried the others to get settled and the two coaches went their separate ways.




Despite his having dropped the bodies to the ground, Vance remained silent as he listened to the brothers discussing the next step for them. Vance understood each of the sons' opinions, though he did have one of his own that he thought they should have already been considering: this was Benjamin’s ranch, and it was Benjamin’s decision.

That didn't mean that Vance couldn't add his two cents. But, he was going to pay those two cents to Benjamin. He turned away from the carnage and ascended the steps of the porch just as Benjamin was exiting the open doors of the house.

The eldest Stewart came to a stop just a few feet from Vance and gave him a long, steady, studious gaze. Vance could almost hear the wheels a'turning in the man's brain, and he knew exactly what was happening inside that busy brain.

Vance could have explained away shooting down 7 men on his own with only a single bullet hitting him. He could have claimed he'd gotten the jump on them, killing them one at a time over a minute or two or ten. He could have claimed they'd all been firing at him from where they now lay; or that after, he'd drug the bodies to this one location. He could have said a great many things that might have sounded logical or total falsity.

But the condition of two of those bodies -- one with his head almost twisted off and another bend backward like a broken reed on the river's edge -- were difficult to explain, particularly since both men had been roughly the same height and weight as the man who had so easily dispatched them. And the fact that the handguns of some of the men were still in their holsters. Or that there was no bullet damage to the home, an obvious sign of a gun fight supposing that one of the shooters -- Vance -- had been inside or on the porch of the home.

There were simply too many things saying that this was an unusual event for Vance to explain away should Benjamin pursue such questioning. Luckily for Vance, the patriarch went a different direction.

"Get the buckboard!" he called down to his sons. "Load up the bodies. Take'em out to the other side of the grove on Lassen Crick. Take some shovels."

The reactions of his two sons were polar opposites, but he cut them off before either of them had finished a single sentence of response. "Do it. We will not involve the Sheriff in this. We'll ... we'll figure out a story if'n we need one later. Get it done. Strip'em of their guns and valuables. I ... I may have an idea 'bout them."

Then he looked to Vance for a moment and -- still talking to the boys -- said, "Vance and I are going up to see to Lillian."

The boys went about doing as their father had ordered, and Benjamin said softly, "I called up to Lillian's room but I heard no answer. I think ... I think it would be better if you went up with me. Seeing how..."

He didn't finish, instead turning, crossing to and ascending the stairs, and calling out again, "Lillian honey, it's Benjamin. Lilly ... it's your uncle. You're safe."

At the top of the stairs, he stopped outside the closed door, repeated his words, then -- truly thinking that if anyone was going to get a reaction -- urged the gunslinger closer to the door and said toward it, "Lilly honey. Vance is with me. Can we come inside?"

 

[SandS13]

The younger men were startled from their starting argument by their father’s voice. Both wanted to argue their point but Benjamin wanted to hear nothing more from them. There was a lot to take in with this situation. His mind was at work trying to put all the pieces together.

Oh, he had ideas though some things didn’t quite fit yet. He watched the boys as they moved off. Maxwell removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. The two exchanged dark looks but for the moment were silent. Benjamin knew he would have to sit the men down, Lillian too and get the story straight with them all. They would keep details from the women, there was no need for them to know what they found here or how dangerous it would have been had they all been home.

His eyes moved over the bodies as if they might give up the secrets of this whole thing. Unsurprisingly none gave up any clues.

Benjamin turned, Vance at his back and moved upstairs. He was concerned about his niece. How much had she seen? Had something happened to her? Vance assured him that no man had touched her. The gunslinger had been sure to emphasize that no man, including himself had touched her.

They stood outside Lillian’s door. The woman still hadn’t made a noise or spoken.

His niece had been through enough in the last little while. The loss of her husband, being sent out here, away from the life she knew. She had managed well, adjusting to the new surroundings and the people around her but Benjamin saw the sadness in her. The way his normally vibrant, well spoken niece barely engaged in conversation. He had wanted to talk some business with her but was unsure how to approach it. His own Mabel was capable and smart but she wasn’t educated to the same extent like Lillian was. Benjamin had seen Lillian’s letters home to the estate manager, her financial manager’s. He had never imagined she had such a head for things like that but the proof had been on the paper.

Now, he feared this place may have broken her completely.

He looked at Vance. Then there was this man. Capable, cleary but there was more than he had told Benjamin. By all talk of what happened there should have been more damage to the house, more evidence of a fight. From what he had seen Vance had the upper hand but he was one man. Curiousity tugged at Benjamin.

As he looked at the dark clothed man he wondered just what his intentions with his niece were. Vance hadn’t hid his lingering looks and attention to Lillian from Benjamin. It wasn’t lust though, not purely. Benjamin knew the look of lust and desire in a man. What he saw when Vance looked at Lillian wasn’t solely that.

Benjamin wondered if Vance knew what Lillian was worth. For a moment he thought perhaps the meeting at the Golden Eagle wasn’t chance. What if Vance had learned about the widow and sought her out in hopes of wooing her and her money? No. Benjamin didn’t get that feeling from Vance at all. Was it coincidence that his first night working had brought these men here? No, again Benjamin didn’t think this was something Vance had a hand in.

And what did Lillian think of this man? Benjamin frowned. This would come to a head at some point he was sure of it. And surely there would be fighting amongst the family about what they thought Lillian should do. Benjamin was head of family though and in the end it would be up to him to give the final word.

A sound at the door drew him from this thoughts.
------
Inside the room, hiding beside her bed with her body tucked up Lillian could hear voices outside though she could not make out what they were saying. They were getting louder. She heard what she thought was her uncle calling up to her but Lillian didn’t move, didn’t answer. What if it was a ploy of some kind?

More yelling outside and the sound of activity. She stood and moved to the window. She saw her cousins moving the bodies. It was at that moment that her stomach began to revolt. The effects from the evening were taking a toll on her body. Lillian grabbed the wash basin, still full of bloody water and relieved what little there was in her stomach into it.

Footsteps on the stairs caused her to freeze, staring at the door. Her uncle called out softly to her. Her tight grip on the basin loosened. Lillian didn’t move right away. Her eyes went to the white bundle on the floor. The torn garment was proof of the attack on her. She wasn’t ready to face her uncle with that. The blame would be on her for being out of her room in her night dress. She couldn’t deal with that shame.

When he called out that Vance was with him Lillian almost rushed to the door. She paused, kicking her torn gown under her bed before moving to the door. She pulled the chair away and opened the door a crack. Fear filled her eyes, as if she expected it to be a trick.

When she saw it was indeed them, only then did she open the door fully. What Lillian wanted to do was step into Vance’s arms and have him hold her, banish away the fear but decorum prevented such action. He was not her husband or even her suitor. He shouldn’t even be seeing her like this. Neither should her uncle but that could be easily explained. Her arms wrapped about herself.

Benjamin spotted the way his niece looked at the man. He had been right to bring Vance with him. He also saw more there than he wagered Lillian realized.

“Are you alright?” His tone was gentle. “You’ve had quite the scare.”

Lillian nodded then her eyes moved to the floor. “They spoke of stealing, I heard them. They were going to search the house. If it wasn’t for Vance -”

Benjamin shook his head and pulled his niece close. A hand went protectively to the back of her head. How had she heard them? The bodies were on the main floor and outside. Had she been downstairs? If so, how had they not heard her, spotted her? The stairs, perhaps. Wheels turned once more. Benjamin’s eyes moved to Vance.

Whoever this man was, whatever he was not telling him, Benjamin owed him a great deal more than his salary. He held the petite woman in his arms. His thoughts turned to the look in Lillian’s eyes as she had opened the door. The woman felt an attraction to Vance and Vance clearly had the same to her but would it make sense, this relationship? Social standings said Lillian could do better, there were many in high society who would desire such a partner but would it be right? Being out here had taught Benjamin that all his upbringing didn’t mean the same in the west. Some rules still existed but some didn’t hold up to the wildness of this frontier.

Whatever was beginning here was strengthened by tonight’s events. Benjamin wouldn’t stop it but he also felt that he needed see if he could learn more about Vance before fully supporting it. Either way he was grateful Lillian was unharmed.

His eyes were still on Vance. “Do not worry about them now. It is taken care of. You must never tell the others what happened. Do you understand Lillian?”

She pulled back a little in her uncle’s arms. A slight crook of her head. It was clear she was thinking on his words, the implications behind them. They were going to get rid of the bodies and not tell anyone. He didn’t want the other women to know they had been in the house, what the bodies looked like.

“Yes. I understand.”

 

[DeadManTyping]

Vance was conflicted about speaking up from beyond the door, about ensuring that he was there for Lillian. Despite having known her for, what was it, two days, three days...? Despite that short time, he felt as though they'd made a connection of trust that was almost unbelievable. But, he was hesitant to display that connection to Benjamin for fear of seeming like an interloper in the life of the man's niece. In the standards of this day and place, Benjamin was the closest thing to a father that Lillian had at this point, and despite her being a free thinking, free acting woman, he still had a position of importance in her life that -- in Vance's opinion -- should not be interrupted by his own sudden arrival and injection into her life.

But when the door opened and Lillian's sighting of him caused obvious relief in her eyes, Vance was pretty sure his not speaking up didn't mean steer's poop to the family's patriarch.

“Are you alright?” [Benjamin's] tone was gentle. “You’ve had quite the scare.”

“They spoke of stealing, I heard them. They were going to search the house. If it wasn’t for Vance -”

As he watched Benjamin pull his niece in for a reassuring hug, Vance waited for Lillian's explanation of how close she'd come to being raped, about how Vance had pulled the man away just seconds before he violated the then-helpless woman's body. But, that explanation never came. Vance wondered whether she ever would tell, and -- while he thought it might one day help her to discuss the traumatic event with a female loved one -- he honestly hoped that it would be their secret to the day they both died.

Vance met Benjamin's gaze as the man held his frightened niece, and he once again saw the wheels'a'turnin' within. He knew that one day soon -- possibly even later this very day -- Benjamin and he would probably have to talk about the inconsistencies of the evening's events. But, like the secret of the attempted rape, Vance was again in no hurry for that to happen either.

“Do not worry about them now. It is taken care of. You must never tell the others what happened. Do you understand Lillian?”

Vance felt instant relief at hearing this come from Benjamin. It didn't surprise him, of course: the patriarch had already told his sons to load up the bodies for a quiet burial out of sight of the public. The relief continued when Lillian looked to her uncle and responded...

“Yes. I understand.”

"Now, go back into your room, Lilly honey," Benjamin told her, urging her physically that direction as he continued, "I'm going to go get you a hot drink ... something to help you sleep..."

As he continued to urge her forward, he changed the subject, "Tilly came out and met us on the road. She is well and uninjured, save for a bruise on her face that I'm sure your aunt is already tended. They are all at the hotel in town, safe and sound and probably ordering the most expensive dessert the hotel kitchen has sitting under glass. Should I bring you up some of Anna's rhubarb, honey?"

Vance could see that the man was trying his best to comfort Lillian by turning her mind away from the events and back to any sort of happy thought. He stepped closer to the bedroom door, simply to keep himself in view should Lilly look to him but not enough to make Benjamin begin wondering how much time he'd already spent in the widow's bed chamber.

"In the mean time," he continued, not allowing any sort of objection from Lillian (should it arise) to deter him from his course, "I'm going to find Vance another shirt to wear. He seems to have gotten someone else's blood on his."

Benjamin couldn't be certain that Lillian knew anything about the blood on Vance's shirt, let alone that he'd been injured. Honestly, Benjamin wasn't entirely certain the blood was Vance's, as the gunslinger hadn't said word one about the source of the stain. But he was pretty certain Vance had been shot and was simply acting the tough guy.

"We're not leaving, Lilly," Benjamin reassured her, backing toward the door. "We will both remain in the house, and I'll be up in a moment with your drink and food."

Benjamin looked to Vance and gestured him with a head bob to follow. But before he did, Vance gave Lillian a long look and a smile and -- attempting to keep the volume too low for Benjamin -- repeated his earlier reassurance to her, "No one is going to cause you any harm while I am around ... and I am going no where."

He waited until he was certain she was okay with being alone, then followed Benjamin down the stairs and into the kitchen. The man was pouring milk from a glass bottle he took from a water cooled chill box into a small pan and placing it atop the always warm cast iron stove. He turned and faced Vance with a stern expression.

"Did those men rape my niece?" he asked bluntly.

Vance was a bit surprised by the question, hesitating just a moment before saying with a firm, sincere tone, "No, sir."

Benjamin studied him for a moment, then asked for clarification with an extended, "But...?"

Vance felt uncomfortable discussing the details without Lillian's permission, but he also felt that holding back the facts would only make the situation worse. He said with hesitance, "Two of them did get into the house--"

"The dead man in my parlour," Benjamin added.

"Yes, and another," Vance continued. "They knocked out your house keeper ... Tilly--"

"And Lilly?" Benjamin interrupted anxiously. "What did they do to Lilly?"

"Nothing, sir," Vance answered quickly. He continued his lie but with less falseness to it, "I was able to stop them before they could do her any harm. I ... escorted the man outside--"

"The others," the patriarch cut in. He asked with a bit of knowing doubt, "I supposed they were just waiting there for you to come out and gun them down."

Vance couldn't help but let his lips spread in a bit of a smile. He really hadn't wanted to have this conversation with Benjamin, as he knew he couldn't do so without either lying further or getting into areas -- into his being something more than a common human being -- that he simply couldn't explain.

"Are you that good?" Benjamin asked, "Good enough to kill five men like that ... shoot'em down bam, bam, bam like that?"

Benjamin's tone had changed from accusatory and suspicious. It was a combination of awe and wonder. He'd witnessed a gunfight in Willow Springs just a few months before Lillian's arrival, but it hadn't been anything like what he was imagining happened here tonight. Two men -- each of them so drunk they could hardly stand -- had come to words over a whore, the word Benjamin used for them regardless of the company in which he found himself. Right there in the saloon, one man drew his weapon and began firing at the other. Four shots had exploded from the gun, each missing its target despite there being only nine feet between the two gunslingers. The second man -- in a bit of shock over the attack he hadn't seen coming -- finally got his own weapon out of its holster, level it, and just as he was finally hit in the chest, put a bullet through the other man's throat.

They both fell to the floor dead, but they weren't the only ones. The piano player had taken round in the back of his skull and was killed instantly. (To this day, a dozen ivory piano keys still showed signs of the blood that had stained them.) And the saloon girl over whom they'd been fighting had taken two bullets, one per tit, which had led to a great many bad jokes by drunkards and card players for the next several weeks.

Benjamin didn't imagine that what had happened here tonight was anything like that. And Vance responded to his inquiry with, "I'm not the bragging type, Benjamin ... but yes ... I am that good. But I need you to understand--"

"Yeah, yeah, you weren't looking for a fight," Benjamin cut in with a sincere tone. "You were protecting Lillian. And I appreciate that. You have my thanks ... Lilly's ... the whole family's."

He crossed closer to Vance and offered out his hand as he mirrored Lillian's earlier statement, "I can't even begin to think of a way to show you my appreciation for what you've done here tonight."

The two shook hands, then Benjamin moved over to the stove to remove the warmed milk. He poured a tall glass full as he directed the gunslinger to pull a pie from a cupboard and cut it into three pieces. Vance smiled, humored that he was being put to work in a kitchen again. (He'd been a nighttime chef's assistant prior to being turned back in Paris oh so long ago, but since then hadn't done much cooking or other such deeds.)

"I'm going to tend to my boys," Benjamin said, handing out the glass to Vance. He could see the sudden surprise in the gunslinger's eyes and tried to lessen it with, "I trust you with my niece ... more than I trust any man with a woman who is of such importance to me. Besides ... I get the feeling she would like your company right about now more than mine."

Vance hesitated, almost certain this was some sort of test. But when Benjamin almost forced the glass into his hand, then put two of the slices of pie onto a platter with two forks and offered it out as well, Vance took the items, smiled, and headed upstairs. At the door, he announced himself with a soft voice and waited.

 

[SandS13]

Uncle guided her towards her room. He promised something warm to drink and pie. Lillian wasn’t sure her stomach could handle that but it was clear he would take no argument from her.

She paused at her uncle’s statement, her eyes moving from him to Vance’s shirt and back again. Lillian was looking for clues of how much Vance had told her uncle but anyone looking it could have easily been taken as a look of confusion, as if she was just learning of the blood for the first time.

Lillian nodded slowly to her uncle as he assured her that they would remain in the house and he would bring her food soon.

She resisted the urge to reach out for Vance, to beg him to stay with her. There were no exceptions to the rules, even for circumstances like this one. Her eyes met Vance’s, he smiled and she found her panic fading.

His promise to her, spoken again though in low volume. For her ears only.

Something about the way he said it pulled at her. It wasn’t a sweet nothing whispered in her ear, a compliment meant to turn a woman’s head. There was conviction there, feeling and he had already proven the statement true.

Though she had seen plenty of death and she knew that nothing was permanent. He could promise that but if that bullet had hit him higher he would be one of the bodies out there.

Lillian didn’t want to think about that.

Alone once more she got down on her knees to find the nightgown that she had kicked under the bed. She needed to work fast. There could be no proof that they attacked her, that they had tried to violate her.

Lillian found her sewing box and her embroidery scissors. She wished they were bigger but she wasn’t a seamstress and had no use for larger. She began to tear the fabric into smaller pieces as best she could. If she could make it small enough it would be easier to burn unnoticed.

Footsteps on the stairs. Lillian tucked the nightgown under her mattress and quickly put her scissors away. A quick look landed her eyes on the wash basin. Bloody water and vomit mixed. If her uncle saw that it would bring new questions.

Closer. Too late to do anything with it now. Lillian tossed the used rag over top and hoped he would not notice.

Shadows played on the wall, cast by her oil lamp as Lillian stood there. The voice on the other side of her door was not her uncle’s. She approached the door and opened it to find Vance with a platter and a glass of milk in his hands. Her eyes searched his for some answer to how he found himself playing delivery man.

Lillian looked out into the hallway and not finding her uncle, stepped back to allow Vance inside.

“I- “ She looked back to the hallway. “Is he coming up or - ?”

She let the question linger. Would her uncle have really sent Vance up here with her? Lillian found herself hoping that he had indeed allowed this. One hand played with the ribbon of her dressing gown.

“Oh, let me help you with that.” Lillian felt foolish and rude. She crossed to him quickly and took the platter from him, setting it down on the dressing table. She turned to take the milk, her fingers caressing his as she waited for him to place it in her hand. Her eyes lifted shyly to find his.

 

[DeadManTyping]

“Is he coming up or - ?”

Vance could see that Lillian was as surprised as he had been that Benjamin had permitted -- actually, insisted -- that he, Vance, come upstairs to his, Benjamin's, niece's bedroom. A short moment passed, and Vance informed her, "Your uncle is checking on your cousins. They should just about have the bod-"

He hesitated, realizing he error he was about to make, then skipped that entire part of the conversation by finishing, "I'm sure he will be up shortly."

It may have been wishful thinking -- or lust, or both -- but Vance sensed in Lillian a touch of happiness that he was here with her alone, if only for a moment or two. His gaze fell for an instant to her hands, finding them fiddling with the ribbon of her dressing gown. Again, wishful thinking -- or lust, or both -- he wondered whether subconsciously those fingers weren't wanting to give the ends of the ribbon a slow tug, to allow the gown to open, to be shed, to allow him to strip her of her night gown as well, to strip himself of his own clothes, to take her, right here, right now.

Of course, it wouldn't happen even if Vance's fantasy was Lillian's as well. Benjamin was just downstairs. Maxwell and Johnathan were just outside. And then, there was the memory of what had happened her tonight. Vance wondered how long it would be before Lillian could trust a man to take her into his arms, let alone into his bed. Weeks? Months? Years?

“Oh, let me help you with that.”

Lillian's offer to help with the platter and glass broke Vance from his reverie. As she reached to take the tray, he once again realized he was sportin' wood down south for her and once again was relieved that his slacks were loose enough and his undergarments tight enough to hide the growth from obvious view.

His lust for her wasn't helped by the soft touch of Lillian's fingers upon his as she reached to take the glass from him as well. She lifted her eyes upward toward his, and he met her stare for a long moment. Vance was conflicted about Lillian once again. No, conflicted wasn't the right word. Torn? Being torn apart?

Tortured? Maybe. He could so easily tear her clothes from her -- right here, right now -- and he wanted so badly to believe that she might even let him do it. Oh, sure, it was wrong. So wrong. Socially. Culturally. But there was a connection between the two of them, a yearning that went all the way back to that first exchange of gazes in the Golden Eagle and was only intensified by what had happened here tonight.

Lillian knew that Vance would protect her with his life. He knew that. He could see it in her eyes now. Hell, she thought he'd already risked his life for her tonight, though -- to be honest -- he'd never been in any danger because of what he was. Oh sure, if the bullet had hit him elsewhere, puncturing a kidney rather than just coming to rest against it, or piercing his heart or brain, Vance could very well have died despite his incredible ability to quickly heal.

But the odds of that happening had been low. And Vance's fury over the intrusion of the ranch -- and far more importantly of Lillian's body -- had been so great that he needed to stand before that man and those men and deal with that fury in an appropriate manner.

Truthfully, his gunning down of the men had been a disappointment. Vance had actually hoped to leave the rapist, Buck, alive after gunning down his Iron Club Gang fellows. He'd fantasized gunning down the others, then biting into their leader's neck and draining him slowly as he turned the man's face slowly about to ensure he observed the death surrounding him ... as he contemplated his own slowly approaching and horrific death.

But shit happens. And simply gunning the men down had had to suffice.

Footsteps on the first floor's hardwood -- obvious to Vance but probably not audible to Lillian -- brought the vampire out of his reverie. Reluctantly, he allowed the touch happening between Lillian and himself to end as he took a small step back from her. It was the opposite direction he wanted to move, but it was the direction Vance needed to move. He tore his gaze from hers, glancing toward the windows as if thinking he could see the two men outside from here before looking back to Lillian.

"I need to check with your uncle--" he began, and then immediately fearing that she would fear he was leaving her for the night added, "--but I will come immediately back. I promise you, Lillian. I will not leave you until ... I mean, I will stay close tonight. Outside your bedroom door, if you will permit it. If your uncle will permit it."

He listened for her response to his vow, then told her again, "I need to check with the others, but ... I will be back shortly."

He looked into Lillian's eyes for a moment, then stepped up very close to her, almost to the point that his torso came into contact with the bosom displayed so well behind too little fabric, as Mabel would surely feel if she were here. Vance reached both hands up, taking Lillian's face into them with a soft touch. He lifted so that they were looking directly into one another's eyes.

Anyone watching would have thought for sure that Vance was about to kiss her, but instead he delved into her mind and soul and told her without words You are safe. You are loved and you are safe. You have nothing to fear, as long as those who surround you would give their lives for you. Benjamin will give his life for you. I ... will give my life for you. You are loved, and you are safe ... and you must sleep...

It was laying down to rest that Vance wanted Lillian to do right now. He had things he needed to do, people with whom he needed to talk, and he knew that he couldn't do these things unless Lillian was able to lay down with confidence that she was safe and secure within the walls of the house in which she had so very nearly been violated in the most personal way.

He continued his silent assurance, You will sleep ... tonight, you will sleep ... without a care in the world, without a fear in the world ... knowing that you are safe ... loved ... respected. Sleep, Lillian ... sleep ... soundly ... wrapped in love and security...

The manipulation of a human's mind by a vampire, as Vance was attempting with Lillian, was something that he had had to work on for more than a lifetime -- a human lifetime -- to finally do well. It worked very well on those who were weak of mind or intoxicated or very frightened. After the centuries that Vance had had to perfect the act, he could literally make a drunk man caught up in the excitement of a bar room brawl to pull his weapon and shoot his best friend in the face without hesitation.

It also worked on those who were intelligent and confident and very much trusting of the vampire in question, but in a very different way. Vance couldn't make Lillian do anything she didn't want to do. Hell, he couldn't make her smile right now if it wasn't something she didn't want to do with all her heart.

But he knew she wanted to sleep, needed to sleep. And he needed her to need to sleep. And even though her mind was only sensing the words, the reassurances, rather than hearing each and every word as if Vance were speaking them aloud to her, he could see that it was working on her.

He continued with the manipulation until he was sure Lillian would do as he said without hesitation or fear, then released his hands ever so slowly from her person and backed up a step.

"I will return to you very soon, Lillian, he whispered to her. "You will never be without me close enough to protect you."

He backed a bit more, then turned and headed out the door. Down the stairs and out the door of the home, Vance found Benjamin near the bottom of the porch steps talking in whispers to Maxwell about the details of dealing with the body: exact burial spot, proper minimum death to ensure the coyotes didn't dig them up, etc.

Vance glanced toward the buckboard, where Johnathan was standing near the bodies. He may have thought his actions were unseen, but it was obvious to Vance that Benjamin's older son was searching the pockets of the dead men for anything of value from coins to paper money to the gold nuggets that some men lost at the poker table from time to time.

"Lillian is going to lay down and try to sleep," Vance told Benjamin as he neared the man, hopeful -- though not entirely certain -- that he had eased her mind enough to get some rest. "I'm going to check in with Johnathan."

Benjamin only nodded affirmation to Vance, watched him head toward the wagon, and returned to speaking to his younger son. By the time Vance reached the wagon, Johnathan had ceased his robbing of the bodies and was simply standing at the buckboard's edge, eying the ranch's newest employee with a deep expression of guilt.

"You know that these men came here because of you tonight, yes?" Vance asked softly as he neared the older Stewart.

"Yes ... I know," Johnathan began, his gaze lowering to the ground for a moment before looking back up to Vance, whose steady speed was bringing the gunslinger very close. "I never would have imagined that they would--"

But Johnathan's regretful statement ended with an ooooff of air rushing painfully from his lungs as one of Vance's hard thrown fists contacted him just low enough below his rib cage to ensure no skeletal damage. Vance's other hand came up to grasp Johnathan's arm, to hold him tall as Vance moved to block Benjamin and Maxwell's view of what was happening here.

"Breath, John ... breath," Vance told the man in a whisper as he ensured that the older Stewart boy stayed at height. "Breath ... evenly ... slow and easy and even. Tough it out."

After Johnathan had regained enough of his composure to concentrate on what he was saying, Vance told him, "Your inability to deal with your faults ... your gambling ... your drinking ... your associations with unsavory characters ... very nearly got a family member killed tonight ... or worse."

"I didn't ... know that--" Johnathan began to apologize, speaking with great difficulty.

But after glancing over his shoulder to ensure that his attack on Johnathan wasn't drawing any attention from the other Stewarts, Vance slugged the man again, hard enough to shut him up but not enough to make him loose his stance, not that the vampire couldn't have easily held him on his feet with just the one hand now gripping him.

"Don't speak ... listen," Vance whispered. He gave Johnathan another moment to recuperate, then continued, "I am going to help you out of your situation with the Iron Club Gang. Yes ... I know who they are ... I know why they have an interest in you. I will help you out ... and in return ... you will quit playing cards ... you will quit drinking in town."

Johnathan glanced up, his eyes filled with tears from the pain of the attack. Vance thought he saw more in those eyes, though. Perhaps Johnathan's instant doubt that he could simply give up those vices. Or, perhaps, his instant desire not to have to even contemplate such drastic action.

"You will give up these activities," Vance continued, "and you will have help in doing so."

As he had with Lillian just minutes before, Vance could have engaged his manipulation ability with Johnathan. It would have worked, to an extent: Johnathan was no idiot and wasn't currently wobbling from an excess of alcohol, though he was in fact teetering a bit. But he was guilty and fearful, which would have assisted Vance.

But he didn't. Vance wanted Johnathan to hear and understand all he was saying with a clear mind ... and fear the punishment that might come should he not do as Vance was demanding of him.

"From this day forth, you will not leave the ranch alone," Vance continued. "You will not ever be alone. You will spend time here with your family ... with your wife. If you go to town, you will go with Benjamin ... with Maxwell ... with your wife. If you need to go to town ... need to go anywhere for that matter ... and there is no one to accompany you ... you will come find me. Accompanied, you will not engage in the acts that very nearly got your cousin killed tonight."

Vance wasn't about to say nearly got your cousin raped tonight, of course. That detail was of no concern of Johnathan's. Vance continued, "We will help you avoid these things that are plaguing you ... plaguing your wife ... your family."

Suddenly, Vance reached a hand up to grasp Johnathan's neck with such a ferocity that the other man's face filled instantly with panic. Johnathan tried to cry out but nothing but a slight gurgle came out. Vance pulled the other man's face closer to his and growled, "If you continue with your current ways ... and cause your family any further fear or distress--"

Before Vance could finish, though, Johnathan was trying with all his might to shake his head no. He tried to speak again, leading to Vance relaxing his grip on the man's throat.

"I won't," Johnathan managed after drawing a deep breath. "I will quit. I will change. I promise."

"Is everything okay over here?"

The voice was Benjamin's, and while Johnathan looked quickly to his approaching uncle with surprise, Vance had, of course, heard the man's boots on the packed dirt as he neared slowly, followed by his other son. Vance released his hold on Johnathan before either of the other men realized fully what was going on, then turned to smile to the pair.

"Johnathan and I were just talking about the evening's happenings," Vance explained. He looked to Johnathan again, finding the tears in his eyes and on his cheeks a bit too obvious to ignore, and looked back to Benjamin, explaining, "Johnathan was telling me that he felt some grave responsibility ... and ... I was assuring him that it was not the end of the world ... that every man can change if he wishes."

Benjamin looked to his older son, saw the emotion, didn't buy Vance's story ... but let it slide. If he himself had truly known all the details of the evening, he might have done more damage to his son than his new night time security hand had.



Two hours later, after some hard, fast work, a suitable hole had been dug, filled with bodies, then refilled with dirt. There was no talk of a marker of any kind: all four men atop the ground wanted to see those below it forgotten by themselves and by all the world.

Benjamin had remained back at the house to watch over Lillian, and once the hole's contents were nearly returned, Vance had ridden back to the house, leaving the two brothers with the now empty buckboard. Vance couldn't know whether or not Lillian had gone immediately to bed after he'd delved into her mind or much later. But after he'd washed up at a rain barrel near the home's back porch and made his way quietly up the stairs, he found Benjamin sitting in a rocking chair just inside the woman's bedroom, watching her sleep. The two men met gazes, and the elder stood ever so quietly and came out into the hall.

"I need to speak to my boys," was all Benjamin said before he patted Vance on the shoulder and made his way off down the stairs.

Vance stood in place for several minutes, just watching Lillian. Under normal circumstances, this simply wouldn't be proper: a strange man ogling a single woman as she slept. But these weren't normal circumstances, even ignoring the fact that Vance himself was as far from normal as one could get.

He stepped into the bedroom, lifted the chair silently, and brought it back out of the room. Sitting it in the hallway without a sound, he removed and slung his gun belt over it and sat. He expected Benjamin to return to the second floor at some point, but instead Benjamin only ascended the stairs half way at one point to look in on Vance before again heading back down. The two brothers arrived, spoke with their father a bit, then retired for the evening.

Vance found himself sitting there in the chair, unofficially on guard duty over Lillian, as the rest of the house's occupants one by one brought their evening to an end.

 

[SandS13]

Vance stepped away and she placed the glass of milk on the dressing table. Her heart was pounding. For a moment it was as if time had stopped. That minimal touch of their fingers had sent her mind off on dreams of him pulling her in, kissing her softly. She longed for him to hug her, holding her close. There she felt safe and fear didn’t exist.

His words caused a panic to set in. Lillian didn’t want to be alone. She didn’t want him to go. Specifically Vance. Her lips parted, a soft inhale of surprise as Vance stated he would come back and stay outside her room. Lillian was torn. She wanted him close but there was guilt at the idea that he would sit, uncomfortable all night.

What was she to say? Yes, please. No, stay in my room. It’s alright, go find your bed tonight. I am fine. None were entirely proper.

“Alright.” Soft, sad. Her eyes dropped to the floor. What else could she say without giving away her thoughts?

Lillian lifted them to find Vance’s face. Their eyes locked. It felt like he could see her thoughts and deep into her soul. He came closer. Her heart raced. She could feel the heat between their bodies. Strong hands gently cupped her face. Lillian’s chin was lifted. There was no place to look but his eyes. She didn’t want to look anywhere else. Her lips parted just a little. For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her. Unconsciously, Lillian leaned into his touch

The kiss never came but the moment felt more intimate than if he had.

Vance stepped away, promising to be back soon. Lillian watched him go. She felt calm enough to rest and trusted him to return to her. The whisper, the slight brush of his breath on her skin was like the tenderest caress.

She drank the milk her uncle had sent up though her stomach protested. She didn’t want to waste it. Her dressing gown was removed, laid over the end of the bed. Lillian moved under her blankets. She considered reading but she had no mind for monsters and gods at the moment. Lillian turned the oil lamp off, plunging the room into darkness. She closed her eyes and thought about Vance, his promise and his touch. Her hand came up to caress her cheek where he had held her face.

Her goal was to remain awake until the men came in and were settled. Her body had other thoughts.

She didn’t stir when her uncle came to watch to her. She laid there, deep in sleep through Vance’s return.

Morning came early to ranch regardless of how late the men had stayed up the night before. Outside the ranch hands had arrived and were already working. The kitchen has some movement as the cook tied on her apron and began to prepare the day’s meals.

In town the women were up as the sun was rising and getting into the carriage. Anna had not slept well and longed for her own bed. Jenny wanted to get back and hear all about the previous night’s excitement.

It was a slow moving Anna who first found Vance in the hall. She stopped, hand on her stomach and looked at the man. He sat in a rocking chair outside of Lillian’s room. Protector. Her protector. The door was open which meant he was watching her room and her as she slept.

It made Anna both sad, for she had no man who looked at her like that and happy for her cousin in law.

“Morning.” Her greeting to the man was soft and quiet. Her eyes moved between him and the room.

Downstairs Mabel, Tilly and Jenny were milling about. Anna sighed as she could hear Jenny coming up the stairs behind her.

The calm that had come over the house was broken.

 

[DeadManTyping]

The hours following the shootout and burial of the dead were ... well, there was only one word: boring.

Maxwell and Johnathan returned to their rooms. After Vance spelled him, Benjamin did the same. Lillian was sleeping soundly, which may have been simply because she was spent or may have been partially due to the manipulation Vance had performed.

During the night, the ranch hands who'd been in town gambling, drinking, or carousing returned one or two or a few at the time to the bunk house located on the far side of the corrals and barns from the ranch house. Vance quietly rose each time he heard approaching horse hooves, watched to ensure the men belonged here, then returned to his chair to continue his watch over Lillian.

The house slowly came to life before the sun rose over the distant eastern mountains. A bit later, Vance drew a deep breath, identifying the scents of buttermilk biscuits, pork gravy, peppered sausage, coffee, fresh warm milk, and more as they became part of the morning meal about to be fed to family and hands alike.

Then the sun rose, and Vance's abilities waned. And depression set in. He didn't like this time of day for obvious reasons, and for those reasons he wasn't often awake at this time. In a matter of twenty or thirty minutes, he went from being what writers in the future would call Super Heroes -- or perhaps Super Villains --- to little more than an average man. Well, maybe not entirely average: he couldn't outrun a galloping horse or break a man in two as he were a dry twig, but he still had the memories and experience of a man who had lived centuries longer than one of those average men.

The picture he'd been painting in his mind's eye from the sounds and smells of the floor below him faded with the light of day, and he very nearly missed the approach of Anna until he picked up the sound of her steps as she neared the top of the stairs.

“Morning.”

Vance stood and removed his hat in respect, responding with the same respect, "Good morning, Anna, ma'am. I hope you weren't inconvenienced with having to stay in town last night."

They chatted for a moment about the Golden Eagle and Willow Springs as whole, but the reason for last night's altered accommodations were avoided. Vance couldn't help but wonder whether or not Anna had been told not to bring it up for fear of upsetting Lillian. He was waiting for the pregnant woman to go there at any moment, but she was beat to the punch as the hurried steps of Jenny ascending the stairs were quickly followed by a rash of questions.

 

[SandS13]

The women had been warned by Mabel not to question the men or Lillian about the previous night. She trusted all was taken care of and that all they needed to know was men attacked the house. Even that they should be tight lipped about with anyone.

There was no need to spread rumours or stories. The ranch had taken care of itself and nothing more should be spoken about it.

Back at the ranch Anna hadn’t bothered to ask Johnathan. She was content to let it all go by. She had a baby to worry about. When she ascended the stairs she was grateful for the small talk that occurred between her and Vance.

Mabel had gone off to change and see to the morning. She and Benjamin would discuss the matter but she would only ask that he tell her what she needed to know. That was no more than the details she had. Mabel was satisfied.

Jenny had tried to get it out of Maxwell when she arrived back at the ranch. He just kept telling her it was dealt with. Frustrated and desiring of more excitement she hoped to get something out of Lillian. She hiked her skirt as she all but sprinted up the stairs. At the top, in the hall she found Anna and Vance. Her target of Lillian forgotten she launched at Vance with questions.

“Did you stay here last night? In the hall? Was it that dangerous? How many men? Did any get away? What happened to them? Was it like a showdown between you and them? Did Lillian see any of it? Did she scream? Did any get in the house?”

The flow of questions from her mouth seemed like it would never end. Anna stood there, horrified, eyes growing wider with every syllable that spilled from the woman’s mouth.

“Jenny!” She hissed through her teeth. Everything about this was morbid and unsavoury. She just wanted the woman to be quiet. Her eyes darted to Lillian’s room.

The woman in the bed was sitting upright now, looking extremely pale. She pulled the blanket up to her chin. Lillian had heard every question that Jenny uttered.

Anna’s mouth pressed into a tight line. She wanted to smack Jenny silly. “Vance, none of what the ninny is asking needs to be answered. You are not obliged to her at all.”

Jenny pouted. “It isn’t fair that I missed all the excitement. I would have hit one on the head with my boot!” She seemed keen on the idea, not thinking on how difficult it was to undo all the little pearl buttons of her boots or how little her strike would hurt someone.

 

[DeadManTyping]

Vance studied Jenny with interest as she spat out one question after another. It wasn't the questions that he found interesting, though: it was Jenny herself. Anna may have been thinking to herself that Jenny's questions were morbid and unsavory, but Vance found them ... tantalizing.

He'd been thinking about Jenny occasionally ever since meeting her. Sometimes, Vance thought maybe he'd taken an interest in the wrong Stewart woman. Jenny's flirtations had Vance convinced that he had only to ask to get Jenny to strip and part her thighs for him. After a few nights of explosive sex -- enhanced by Vance's ability to perform from dusk 'til dawn -- he could contemplate tilting her head to expose her neck for a periodic feeding.

Jenny's interest in the previous evening only reassured Vance that he was correct, that it wasn't all a fantasy in his head, that she could be his for the taking if only he would tantalize her with some violent details. Anyone that interested in the horrors of a gunfight and the aftermath -- the bodies, and the disposal of them afterward -- had to be worth getting to know better.

Of course, despite all this assurance from his fantasy filled brain, Vance's long term interest was still firmly on Lillian. He'd known he wanted her from the moment he'd eyed her in the Golden Eagle. He hadn't known what it was about her. Actually, he still didn't know what it was about her. Her beauty had been the initial draw. Her confidence and intelligence had only added to the draw. The feel of her against him last night after the attack, of the touch of her hand to his after that, of the way she'd almost lifted to her toes to kiss him. (Yeah, he'd seen it in her face, the hope that Vance had taken her face into his hands to meet her mouth with his.)

Every time he was with her, Vance knew he'd made the right decision pursuing Lillian. It was more than lust, as he felt for Jenny every time she expressed her interest in and joy for his bad boy side. Was it Vance's imagination? No ... doubtful. Of course, Jenny was married -- happily Vance believed -- so that wasn't going to happen. Right?

Vance caught motion in his peripheral and turned his head to see Lillian sitting up in her bed. She seemed to be listening intently on the hallway happenings. He wanted to go in and speak to her, but that would have been inappropriate, particularly with Anna and Jenny standing here.

"I've been here in the hall awake on guard all night," he told the two in the hall, though the volume was intentionally high enough for Lillian to hear, too. "I should sleep if I am going to stand duty tonight."

Jenny again tried to get Vance to speak about the previous evening's excitement, but he only told her, "Later, perhaps. I really need to shut my eyes."

He headed down the stairs and toward the home's front door, and all along the way he felt the needling discomfort of the day's light upon his skin and even deeper within his chest. Not every day had the same effect on him: the light level, temperature, time passed since the most recent feeding, the volume of that feeding, the length of the most recent sleep or wake period, and other factors affect him.

The boy who tended the corral had Vance's horse ready, and before anyone else could catch his eye, Vance was off toward Willow Springs. Mabel had made the Cottage ready for him, but Vance knew he should feed. He arranged for another saloon girl to slip through the back of the Golden Eagle, paid her for a full day, then -- forgoing the sexual service -- wasted no time in sinking his fangs in her.

Vance drained a bit more than he should have, causing her to pass out and remain unconscious until very late in the afternoon. He'd used his amnesia ability on her, so when she finally awoke late in the afternoon, she wouldn't recall anything that had taken place there. Once he sated his need, Vance stripped to his underwear, slipped his Colt under his pillow, and laid down next to the unconscious woman to get a good day's sleep.



Just short of sundown, he awoke to the woman's own stirring. She was still a bit spent yet offered to fuck or suck him again (though again was inaccurate, of course). Vance sent her away with an additional two dollars, dressed, headed downstairs for a steak and brandy, then headed for the ranch.

Benjamin and Johnathan were awaiting him at the cottage. Mabel had put them to a few tasks, most of which were done by the time he arrived. Vance spoke with Benjamin for some time, about both the job and the previous night's events. Johnathan mostly stayed at a distance from Vance, remembering what had happened the last time they'd been close.

After the Stewart's departed, Vance spent a while looking about the cottage. It was small but had everything he could possibly want or need. The mattress was a step up from the beds in either the saloons or the Golden Eagle. He imagined Lillian naked and on her back upon it, knees parted and high as he thrust deep, hard, and fast within her.

He let the fantasy go and prepared to being his work day. He filled a canteen with water piped into the cottage by a windmill driven pump out back; tossed into his saddlebags some of the food Mabel had prepared for him; checked the chambers of both his .45 caliber Colt Peacemaker revolver and the .44 caliber Henry rifle Benjamin had loaned him until he bought his own long gun.

He headed for his horse to begin his first real night of work upon the Stewart Ranch.

 

[SandS13]

He had stayed outside her room all night. Lillian watched from the bed as Vance headed out, brushing off Jenny’s questions.

The woman went to come into Lillian’s room but Anna stopped her. She then closed the door and shooed Jenny away.

Breakfast was quiet. No one said much at all. The men were tired. Jenny was pouting. Mabel and Benjamin acted as if it was any other day. Save the empty seat that Lillian typically occupied it was. Life at the ranch went on like nothing had happened.
****
It wasn’t fair. She missed all the excitement and then Vance had stood guard for Lillian. Jenny wanted the man’s attention. From the moment he sat beside her at the Golden Eagle she knew that flirting with the gunslinger would bring some excitement into her life. And it had. Maxwell had fucked her long and hard that night as they whispered fantasies of him watching Vance bed Jenny over, taking her roughly.

They needed that. It wasn’t as if here were parties they could go to or events to attend here. It was rare. Didn’t Lillian understand that Jenny and Maxwell needed some fun in their life? They weren’t like the rest. Not prim and proper.

She poked at her meal, a pout on her lips.

Maxwell had already made the decision to surprise his wife. He didn’t like to see her pout and knew she was feeling neglected. He decided to do something for her. The thought of it, the fantasies it brought on caused him to grow erect under the dining room table. He adjusted his napkin giving his manhood a rub as he did so.

He only hoped Vance would be interested.
***
“It seems the Johnson’s are coming to town.” Mabel looked up from the note in her hand to glance at her husband. They were in his office now, he doing paperwork and she the household budget and checking the post.

“Cecily and Peter? Interesting. Do they say what for?” Benjamin met his wife’s look so she knew he was paying attention but immediately went back to his ledger.

“Something about a mine. They have a room in town. They are bringing Laurence with them.”

“Larry? Hmm.”

“You don’t like him.” Mabel sat in a chair, the letter in her lap.

“He is a perfectly nice man but his business sense isn’t the best.” A frown crossed Benjamin’s features.

“Wasn’t he courting Lillian at one point?”

“Yes, he was. But so was Bruce at the time and she turned Laurence down on multiple occasions. Boy didn’t learn quickly.” Now Benjamin looked troubled.

“Well, interestingly enough their visit coincides with the party and Lillian’s coming out as it were. Perhaps this time she will consider him.”

“That isn’t a good match. With his sense he will rid her of her money quickly.” Truthfully Benjamin had other plans for Lillian. He didn’t want her to marry and move back East. He wanted her to stay and run his ranch. He had seen her business sense, her financial sense and it was quite a bit better than his boys. He had worked too hard to build this place up and he wanted it left to someone capable. He hadn’t had a chance to speak to her yet and the boys wouldn’t be happy but the prospect of Lillian marrying Laurence Johnson sat poorly with him. “Perhaps she will be uninterested in him still.”

“Perhaps.”
***
Afternoon and evening blended together. Lillian chose to stay in her room all day, taking her meals there. She resolved that one day was enough though and was laying out her clothes for the next day. She planned to go into town. She had letters to send and needed a few things. She also wanted to find a gift for Vance, to thank him.

She sat in the tub full of scented water. She hoped sleep would come easy tonight.
***
Maxwell steered his horse to where he saw Vance’s silhouette in the last of the setting sun.

“Vance! A word if I may..”

He felt himself growing hard at the thought of talking to the man. It was uncomfortable in the saddle but Maxwell adjusted and brought his horse up beside Vance.

“I have a proposition I wish to discuss with you. It is of a personal nature but given what occurred last night I am sure I can trust you with this. It pertains to Jenny and myself. You see we have a rather unconventional aspect to our married life. I enjoy my wife’s body immensely but sometimes we like to add others to the mix.”

It was in this moment that Max realized he needed to lay the proposal out or he might change his mind.

“You have seen the way my wife flirts and that excites me. I like to listen to her and watch her flirt with men, knowing that such a beautiful woman belongs to me. I also like to watch her engage with men. Frankly, I like watching them fuck her, please her. It arouses me quite a bit. Sometimes I join the pair and the three of us get to enjoy a night of ecstasy. I would like to propose to you that if you are interested we would like you to join us in bed. One night to start and should we all enjoy it perhaps other nights. Jenny is rather fond of you and enjoys your attention.”

Maxwell licked his lips and waited.
***
Her bath complete. Her long hair brushed smooth. Lillian stood at the window of her room in her nightgown staring out at the land at the front of the ranch. She wondered where Vance was on the property. She found herself longing to see him though she would not admit it aloud.

 

[DeadManTyping]

Vance was sheathing the Henry rifle into the leather scabbard lashed to the saddle when he heard the distant, approaching footfalls of a slowly galloping horse. Out of habit he checked the Colt on his waist to ensure it was fully loaded, despite having already done so before leaving the cottage. It was an irony of gun safety that when you were cleaning a weapon, you always assumed it was loaded, which prevented you from accidentally shooting yourself; but when you were expecting to have to use it, you always assumed it was empty or partially so, which prevented your from coming up short a round when you really needed to shoot someone dead.

But it was a familiar form that came riding around the grove of trees on the far side of his new home, as opposed to one he might have to put a bullet through. The Iron Club Gang was still very much a threat to Johnathan and, in extension, to the rest of the Stewart family and Vance as well. And once the still living members of the thugs terrorizing Willow Springs came to realize that their seven missing men weren't off robbing a mine or train or stage coach and were, in fact, dead and likely six feet under some place, they were going to be coming to ask questions of anyone and everyone who might have a reason to get rid of some of their number. That included Johnathan, of course.

“Vance! A word if I may..”

The night time security agent, as Benjamin had told Vance he'd be listed in the ranch's expense ledger, nodded politely to the rider as he stopped his horse. "Good evening, Maxwell. What brings you out this way? Wanna take a ride out on the range with me?"

Vance and Benjamin had had a chance for a quick talk about the latter's boys and the farms security. The Stewart family patriarch had been very blunt in telling Vance that Maxwell and Johnathan weren't going to be much help in keeping the ranch safe and secure, particularly at night.

"Neither of them can shoot for a damn, as you saw out 'hind of the house," Benjamin had said with a regretful shake of his head. "Maxwell's night vision is fer shit ... all Johnathan sees well in the evenin' are cards and whiskey bottles. He thinks I don't know how bad it is, but..."

Vance had wanted to reassure Benjamin that he thought he'd taken care of that problem, but then he might have had to explain laying hands upon the man's son. He let it go.

"I can get you a couple of men good with their weapons if you want," Benjamin had offered. But when Vance told him that being out alone in the night would allow him to move more silently -- to sneak up on the rustlers and retire them as Benjamin had stressed -- the ranch's owner had finished, "Well, I just didn't want you to be surprised ... disappointed even ... if my boys didn't step up and offer their services to you."

Vance wasn't surprised when Maxwell didn't answer positively to the offer to accompany him. He was, however, shocked at the man's proposition. He began with his explanation of he and Jenny's unconventional sex life, causing Vance to smile wide in astonishment with...

"...I also like to watch her engage with men. Frankly, I like watching them fuck her, please her. It arouses me quite a bit."

Suddenly, Vance understood why Jenny had been able to flirt with him so openly without Maxwell even raising an eyebrow of interest. In fact, Vance suddenly recalled a few times when Max had seemed to smile, pleased, at his wife's flirtations. He'd dismissed the expressions before, certain that he was misreading the man's body language.

Not so much now, though.

Sometimes I join the pair and the three of us get to enjoy a night of ecstasy.

One of Vance's eye brows raised at the last. Vance had been in bed with two or three or four women at a time multiple times in his life, more often than not after having distributed an appropriate amount of coinage. And once he'd been just one of more than fifty men and women engaged in a four day long orgy at a magnificent home in the Alps that had once been a country palace of the now-deposed French monarchy.

But he'd never engaged, as Maxwell put it, with just one man and one woman, let alone a husband and his wife. This would certainly be a first for him. Vance had already decided that, given the chance, he'd bed Jenny in a heart beat, married or not. He'd also decided -- regretfully -- that that was something that probably wouldn't happen.

And yet, the opportunity has arrived, and not at all by pure chance. Jenny's husband was requesting that Vance fuck his wife!

"I would like to propose to you that if you are interested we would like you to join us in bed."

Interested...? Vance thought. You have no idea, Max ... no idea at all.

"Jenny is rather fond of you and enjoys your attention.”

Vance contemplated the situation a bit, then came out from around behind his horse to near Maxwell. He was hard as a rock, as was the mounted man looking down to him.

"And this is something you would like to see happen ... for your benefit as well?" Vance asked with a soft tone. "I inquire, because ... sometimes one spouse wants something that the other--"

"I want this," Maxwell cut in.

Vance studied him for a moment, still nearing him and continued, "Because if I thought you were only doing this to keep Jenny happy ... that you weren't as committed to this as she--"

"I am," Maxwell again interrupted. "You have nothing to fear from me, Vance ... fear that I may later not agree with this and wish some sort of ... vengeance."

Vance was close enough to Maxwell's horse to reach up and pet, then scratch the beast's nose. It reacted with pleasure, moving its snout into Vance's fingers for more attention. Vance's mind couldn't help but imagine his hand being on a sensitive portion of Maxwell's wife's body, causing it to writhe about looking for more attention.

"I need to spend this evening patrolling the ranch," Vance said, looking back to Maxwell. "After last night, I need to spend some time watching the property lines."

He studied Maxwell for a moment, searching his face and body -- even listening for the beating of his heart and the speed and depth of his breathing -- to determine whether there could be anything about this that wasn't ... legit. No. Maxwell was damn serious about this. Vance had no doubt about it.

"But ... if you and Jenny wanted to visit tomorrow evening ... say about midnight, after I'd made a circuit around the property and had time to get cleaned up a bit," he said, affirming his interest in the man's erotic offer, "I'd make sure the front door was open."

Maxwell showed his appreciation, wished Vance a safe night, and made his way back toward the ranch house. Vance watched him until he disappeared beyond the grove, contemplated the offer again, and chuckled at his unbelievably good fortune. He mounted the horse he'd since decided to call Midnight for her pure black coat and headed out onto the range, intentionally making the first circle near enough to the ranch house to allow his boss to see him on the job, should Benjamin be looking out upon his property.



Most of your ranch hands out providing night time security would have spent a portion of the night walking their horses about the property and an even larger portion of it sleeping under a tree or in a barn or in a whore's bed some place. But, Vance wasn't your ordinary security agent. After ensuring that enough of the Stewarts or their ranch hands had had an opportunity to see him out riding Midnight, he'd put the horse in one of the branding corrals near the property's northern border and continued his work on foot.

One of the reasons the night watches rarely caught rustlers was that the latter always heard them coming and either hid or fled. On foot, though, Vance could move much faster but also much quieter than a walking Midnight. By the time the first hints of the impending sunrise announced themselves, Vance had jogged a path that wound more than 20 miles this way and that through over the property.

He didn't come across any rustlers this night. But he did discover a camp of squatters, about a dozen Mexicans who had come to Willow Springs from Tucson to work the copper mine, only to find themselves beat up, robbed, and run off because of being from an inferior race. One of the men -- their apparent leader -- spoke with great difficulty about his sister's husband being murdered, which would have been bad enough; but then sister and her daughter and yet a third young woman had then been taken at gun point and were presumably now being forced into sexual servitude at a brothel serving the copper processing plant. The squatters had gone to Willow Spring's Sheriff about the kidnapping, only to be told that the law wasn't there to protect spics.

Vance sympathized with the men's plight, particularly when the description of the hostage taker's clothing told him that the men were Iron Club. Vance had been ready to politely run the men, women, and children off the property but now, instead, promised them that so long as they kept a low profile here -- "No poaching cattle, no shooting game with rifles, don't show yourself to anyone but me" -- he would help them get their women back.

"Take this ... use it in town to get some food," he told the man who had lost almost all of his family as he handed him some dollar bills. He warned him about being cautious, about not letting anyone in town track him back this way. Vance was unsure of Benjamin's thoughts on Mexicans, so he was hesitant when he told them squatters, "And ... I'll talk to my boss ... maybe see about finding you work on the ranch. No promises."

They thanked him profusely before he headed back out into the night on foot. He finished his tour, made his way back to the corral to find Midnight feasting on the remains of a hay pile, mounted, and road back for the ranch house. Benjamin was up to see the sun break over the mountains and greeted Vance with an offer of breakfast and coffee.

Vance admitted to his offer to the Mexicans. Benjamin was hesitant about the issue, but Vance didn't know whether it was because of his own prejudices or because he was concerned about what the other Willow Springs property owners would think. 'Round these parts, Mexicans weren't regarded well, which Vance understood yet didn't accept. He'd seen the ugliness of racism and nationalism in many forms in many parts of the world. He'd even suffered it, as a French man in England, an Englishman in post-Revolutionary America, as an American in Venezuela, and more.

"You guarantee their behavior?" Benjamin finally responded. "Take responsibility for them ... and, if they don't work out ... you run'em off?"

Vance contemplated the request. He barely knew the squatters. He didn't know whether or not he could make such guarantees as of yet. However ... if he was able to get the missing women back, he was certain the others would feel they owed him a debt. That would be very beneficial to Vance, particularly when he needed to feed and couldn't or didn't want to make a trek to town.

He vowed responsibility for the squatters, shook on it, gave his report of the otherwise quiet night, and headed for the cottage. He arrived just at Tilly was leaving, having delivered some hot breakfast and other staples. With her eyes filled with tears, she thanked Vance for saving Lillian -- and likely herself -- from those villains, then headed back toward the ranch house.

Vance ate a warm biscuit as he thought of Lillian. What would she think about Maxwell's offering his wife for Vance's pleasure? Well, actually, that wasn't the proposition exactly. The offer had been for Vance to provide Jenny pleasure and, as an extension, Maxwell pleasure as well. Vance's pleasure had never been spoken of, now that he thought of it. But, he knew, it was implied.

Am I cheating on Lillian? Vance wondered. His lips spread in a smile. Hell, she ain't mine yet ... I ain't hers yet either ... so, no. But, Vance did feel a slight bit of hesitance about shrugging off the question and answer so easily. He felt something for Lillian that he could never feel for Jenny, regardless of the latter's performance in his bed. But ... Lillian was the future, the far future likely. And Jenny was right now.

Vance retrieved a red flag from inside the cottage and stuck the end of its handle in a crevice between two pieces of the cottage's outer wall. It was a signal they'd worked out to indicate when the night worker wasn't available. He headed into the little house, stripped, and fell onto the amazing mattress for ten hours of badly needed sleep.



At dusk, Vance took another ride out onto the property. It was shorter obviously: he had an appointment. He delivered a care package to the squatters camp -- food, a half bottle of whiskey, and some extra blankets Tilly had brought him -- then, after a short ride through some of the rustler-friendly areas, which tonight were poacher-free, headed back to the cottage.

He tied Midnight around back to hide her from view of the ranch house, stripped, bathed with real soap, and donned some clean clothes Mabel had bought for him out of appreciation for ... well, for so much. He stoked a fire in the small hearth, put out a bottle of brandy he'd bought while still living in town, and -- unlike his normal nature -- even made the bed and did some tidying of the little home.

Then ... he just waited to see if this was actually going to happen.

 

[SandS13]

Her bath complete. Her long hair brushed smooth. Lillian stood at the window of her room in her nightgown staring out at the land at the front of the ranch. She wondered where Vance was on the property. She found herself longing to see him though she would not admit it aloud.
--------
She had watched for him for a while. She saw Maxwell come back on a horse but she never saw Vance. Lillian sat up in bed and read a book, one on the medicinal properties of flowers, until her eyes got droopy. Only then did she sleep.

It was a restless night. She tossed and turned. Dreams of shadows plagued her.

Morning found her up and dressed before most of the other women. The men, of course were already doing work. She ate a little breakfast then requested a ride into town.

The day was warm but a light wind blew. Letters were mailed, her waiting mail picked up. She made her way to the general store to purchase a few necessities and a gift.

Lillian wanted to thank Vance for what he had done for her. First, she picked up a few basics for him. A brush for cleaning his boots and some musky soap. Second, a blanket for his bed. She knew her aunt had ensured he had things out there but this would be his to take with him wherever he travelled. Lastly, a new shirt. She picked a nicely tailored black shirt. Lillian hoped it would be something he would wear to the party.

Her packages bundled she headed back to the ranch.

Dinner passed uneventfully. Once more Lillian stood at the window in her night dress watching for some sign of Vance. Again, she did not see him.

She sorted her mail. There was a letter for her from someone she had not seen in a long time. Lillian read it, her mind turning. Laurence had wanted to be a suitor once but Bruce had approached her first and she was not overly attracted to Larry at the time.

His letter spoke his condolences, of what he had been occupied doing as of late, of his trip to Willow Springs and his desire to see her. To connect again, as friends.

With this on her mind Lillian laid down.
***
Not all in the house were asleep.

Jenny and Maxwell slip out into the dark yard. She wore a dark cloak over her flimsy nightgown. It was designed in Paris to entice men’s desires.

He held her hand as they approached the cottage. Maxwell was already partially erect. He wanted to see Jenny bent over with the gunslinger behind her, he wanted to stroke himself as he watched until he could take no more.

At the door, Maxwell rapped softly before quickly opening it to allow his wife inside.

 

[DeadManTyping]

Despite standing near the crackling fire, Vance heard two sets of feet approaching on the path that led between the ranch house and the cottage. He cocked his head a bit, picking up the sound a bit better. Midnight on the frontier: one wouldn't be blamed for being paranoid that intruders were approaching. But Vance was able to identify Maxwell's unique stride, a result of his favoring his left leg when he walked slowly, presumably from a previous injury; and the second set of steps were closer together and quicker and softer in their strike against the ground, from the gait of a shorter woman wearing dress boots that had a bit more of a heel to them than she typically wore out on the ranch.

They actually came, Vance thought to himself as he moved a bit closer to the tiny room's center. He'd been torn as to whether this was going to happen. Although he's sense total sincerity in Maxwell's request the previous day, Vance simply couldn't believe that this was on the up'n'up. Until now, of course.

There was a light knock and, without waiting for Vance's response, the door opened and the couple entered. Jenny moved quickly toward the middle of the room -- toward Vance -- while Maxwell peeked back toward the ranch then closed the door behind him and stepped back until he was practically leaning against it.

Vance gave Maxwell a quick look and a polite nod, but his gaze settled on Jenny. She wore a hat and long cloak, both fashionable, expensive, and as black as the night from which the pair had come. The cloak hid her body from her neck to just above the ankles of the black, lace up boots that were definitely not your typical country shit kickers.

"Good evening, Jenny," Vance greeted with a soft tone that -- with a slightly devilish smirk -- was also suggestive. "You look nice tonight. Elegant."

She greeted him in return. Vance noted that Maxwell remained silent and still in the background, as if not even there. Vance and Jenny simply studied each other for a long moment, during which Vance used his beyond human senses to get a read of her. Her heart beat and respiration were accelerated, and while a normal human wouldn't have been able to detect it, her body was exuding pheromones that signaled an anxiety to breed.

Well, breed wasn't the right word. Vance could also tell from the scents escaping her and filling the little cottage that Jenny wasn't ovulating. That made sense to Vance, of course. He suspected that Jenny would likely have come to his bed at some point, with or without her husband's permission. (He didn't know, of course, that Jenny didn't cheat, meaning she didn't fuck other men without her husband's consent and presence.) But Vance had wondered why the hurry. They hadn't know him enough to know whether or not he would have said yes to this evening. Why the hurry? He'd thought it was simply lust and fetish at first, but now he had to wonder whether or not the couple had simply been trying to have their fun before it was possible for Vance to impregnate Maxwell's wife. Smart, Vance thought.

Not sure how to start, Vance slowly slipped his jacket off and laid it neatly over the back of one of the tiny dining table's chairs. He looked back to her with that devilish smile and waited.

Jenny got the hint. She tugged at the string holding her hat in place. Every time Vance had seen Jenny to date, her hair had been in a tight, neat bun under a hat or in a scarf. The only thing Vance could have said about her hair until now was that it was auburn in color. Now, however, as she slipped the hat from her head, a flood of thick, fiery red curls spilled down upon her shoulders.

Vance had always loved redheads, and his already semi-attentive cock suddenly began to swell, despite Jenny's body still being hidden to him. That hiding had to end, though. He reached to the buttons on his vest and began unfastening them, another invitation for her to do something similar.

And Jenny followed suit. She untied and unbuttoned her cloak, yet when it was unfastened and ready to open, she hesitated. She waited for him to shed the vest, then gave him a nod that seemed to entice him to continue.

Vance glanced past the woman before him to her husband. Maxwell's eyes were a bit wider than before, his gaze firmly on his wife, waiting. Vance let his gaze drop a bit lower and found the groin of the man's slacks pushed outward far enough to tell Vance that the man was well endowed and hard as a rock.

Peeling the vest from his shoulders, Vance began unbuttoning his shirt. As he tugged the tails out from within the waist band of his pants and continued with the last buttons, Jenny suddenly opened her cloak and let it fall to the plank floor around her feet.

Vance hesitated for a moment, his eyes widening at the sight of her. She wore a nightgown that did very little to hide her womanly features. A wide open neck and thin straps over her shoulder showed off much of her bosom, the curves of which were generously highlighted by lacy cloth that was thin enough to show off the pink nipples of her fair skinned breasts. The nightie (he'd heard them nicknamed) was tight about her lower rib cage, showing off the firm, pert roundness of her tits, then simply dropped straight downward in a single thing layer of cloth with delicate embroidering and lace that drew the viewers gaze to the narrowness of her waist, the overall hourglass figure of her torso, and...

Oh...

Vance had seen such nighties before but they'd always been upon women who sold their bodies. As opposed to the culturally appropriate nightgown of the time and place that would have had a hemline that practically dragged the floor 360 degrees about the wearer's feet, the front of this nightie rose up dramatically from just before each of Jenny's knee high, lace up, black boots all the way up to give Vance a peak at the bright red, lacy panties that were the only other article of clothing now on her.

Peeking back at Maxwell again, Vance found one of the man's hands now cupping and gently kneading his erection. Vance looked back to Jenny, who -- smiling ear to ear -- looked to Vance's still dressed body and nodded for him to continue. He loosed the final button and peeled off the shirt, giving Jenny the same view of his scarred body that her sister-in-law had gotten two nights before.

 

[SandS13]

Her eyes raked over his body. He was rugged, scars criss-crossed his body. It all fit into the fantasy she had concocted with Maxwell. The gunslinger with his rough hands and firm muscle fit perfectly.

She licked her lips and eyes lowered to his pelvis and back up again. Three steps towards him and her hands both moved along his bare chest.

Jenny wanted to feel his hard body against hers. She wanted him hands to grip her soft skin and maybe even leave bruises. She shivered with desire at the thought. She tilted her head, leaned in and placed a few kisses on his chest.

Behind them Maxwell was enthralled. He loved it when Jenny initiated the contact. He was hard, his cock twitching and straining against his pants. Soon. Soon he would sit and slowly stroke himself but not until the pair before him were more undressed, not until Vance's manhood began to invade Jenny's body.

Jenny's hands moved lower seeking out Vance's cock. She wanted to know what lay in store for her. She softly kneaded the firm flesh through his pants.

She moaned, "My you are excited to see me...I think you have been having dirty thoughts about me...Why don't you show me what you want to do to me..." Her voice was practically a purr.

 

[DeadManTyping]

Maxwell had asked Vance to fuck his wife. Jenny had asked Vance to do as he wished. But no one had yet told Vance exactly what they wanted done for, with, or to Jenny.

It didn't take a genius -- or even a vampire -- to know that they were looking for something on the rough side. The way Jenny's fingers, lips, and tongue were playing on his scars told Vance that she yearned for a level of fierceness that timid ol' Maxwell probably couldn't even imagine, let alone pull off.

Vance lifted a hand to the full-head-shorter Jenny's face, caressing it for a moment before reaching to the base of her skull. He leaned in to kiss her full on the mouth, pulling their faces together as their lips and tongues mashed together in passion.

His other hand found her side, then a breast, groping it tightly through the thin cloth of her nightgown. He found a hardened nipple and squished it hard between the flesh of an index finger and thumb. He felt and heard her pained reaction, a reaction that only added to her excitement.

Pulling back from her, Vance looked down to the fair skinned beauty's body, leaned down and in, and took both sides of the front of her gown in his hands. He growled cryptically, "You can fucking take it out of my pay."

And with a flash, he jerked the two sides of the gown outward, ripping the front of it fully upward until it flew open to reveal her otherwise bared breasts.

 

[SandS13]

Both Jenny and Maxwell gasped as Vance kissed her hard and forcefully groped her body. It was what she wanted. She wanted him to be brutal and hard. His hands were coarser than Maxwell's and chafed her skin through the material.

He broke away from her and Jenny reached out to pull him in but Vance moved to grip the material that barely covered her body.

As he tore it away Maxwell squeezed his cock hard. He was trying to hold off but watching the man be so aggressive with his wife almost did him in.

He could see her bare breasts heaving and knew the lips of her sex would be dripping. He long to lap at them or slid his fingers over them but he would bide his time.

Maxwell moved to a chair, undid his pants and exposed his cock to the air. It pulsed and twitched as he enjoyed the show.

Jenny looked at Vance, lips parted and then a smile slowly appeared. Her tongue ran along her upper lip. "My you are a brute." A hand ran up her side and over her own breast. She gently stroked a pink, hard nipple.

Her eyes moved to meet Maxwell's. He was so hard, just sitting there watching Vance do whatever he wished to her.

"Was that all? You wanted to see me naked?" She tweaked her nipple as her other hand reached out for his pants. "I had hoped you were more imaginative than that...you can see any whore naked. Show me what you want to do with my body."

God, she loved the attention and the thrill of this. The air was so charged with sexual energy that it seemed to crackle.

Jenny squeezed his cock firmly. "Show me. Take me."

 

[DeadManTyping]

Seeing Jenny look to her husband -- whose cock was now out on full display -- as he himself was stripping her bare had Vance's own member throbbing anxiously. At her taunting, he spun the woman away from him, grasped the gown at each shoulder, and -- instead of simply pulling it from her -- gave each side a fierce tug. As his hands continued outward, the nightie ripped downward almost its full length.

As he let it fall to the floor to join her cloak, Vance grasped Jenny by her upper arms and literally lifted her boots off the hardwood. He carried her a couple of steps until she was dangling before the kitchen table, now facing her husband. Returning Jenny to her booted feet, he used one hand to rapidly begin the shedding of the clothes concealing his lower half as the other swept the table clean of its mostly non-breakable items. Still working at his belt and button, Vance pressed Jenny hard to the table cloth Mabel had only spread across it the day before.

"Look at your husband," he growled to her as he finally freed his cock from its concealment. He was above average in length and girth and hard as a rock, and after a moment of feeling about between her thighs to pinpoint her already sopping wet hole, he pressed the fat head of his second weapon at her opening, and looked across to Maxwell, telling him, "Look at your wife."

Then, with a hard thrust as his hands took hold of Jenny's hips, Vance rammed nearly all of his length deep inside the woman's tight pussy.

 

[SandS13]

Jenny called out but not in terror. It was exactly as she had hoped, desired. He turned her, tore the last of her clothes away and lifted her roughly. He was strong, hard and treated her the way only a man like he could.

Maxwell stroked his cock as he watched Vance manhandle his wife.

She was pressed into the table, her face turned towards Maxwell. He was leaning back and watching her.

Their eyes were locked as Vance entered her and Jenny groaned.

"Yes!" The muscles spasmed around his cock as he pushed deep into her.

"Fuck.." It sounded as if all the air was escaping Maxwell's lungs as he watched Vance enter his wife.

She tried to press back, demand more from Vance but he held her steadfast to the table.

"Harder....give it to her harder..."

Jenny moaned her agreement.

Maxwell's balls were tight. He stood and began stroking his cock. He aimed it towards Jenny's face. "I want her to suck my cock while you fuck her. Move her this way." His voice was a low growl.

 

[DeadManTyping]

Maxwell was primed and ready to explode.

"I want her to suck my cock while you fuck her. Move her this way."

"No!" Vance said with a dominating tone. He'd been letting Jenny's tight hole relax to his intrusion and was about to ram the rest of his length into her when her husband stood and made his demand. But Vance had one for him in turn. "Stop what you're doing, Max."

Maxwell looked confused. He'd been saving himself for this, keeping his hands off his cock since the last time it had been in his wife. And now he was just moments from exploding and -- as he'd hoped -- filling his wife's mouth with his seed. But now ... what?

"If you cum, Maxwell, we're done here," Vance told him, still standing unmoving behind the man's wife, his cock simply remaining where it was, not fully inside her but certainly not out of her. He repeated with a demanding growl, "If you cum, Max ... I'll pull out of your wife ... I'll throw her out into the night ... I'll throw you out into the dark."

By now Maxwell's eyes and mouth were open wide with disbelief. What the hell was going on? He was so close! Not so close that he couldn't stop. But ... he didn't want to stop for Christ's sake!

"If you cum, Max..." Vance warned again, letting the threat hang.

Jenny's husband released his grasp on his cock, looking between Vance and his wife, stunned. He whispered to Jenny, "But..."

That was all he got out before Vance repeated yet again, "If you cum, Max..."

Then, grasping Jenny's hips so tightly that the next day she would have noticeable finger tips bruises on each side, Vance pulled his body back until only the head of his cock was still surrounded by the woman's warmth and wetness ... and rammed her ... and rammed her again ... and again ... and again!

"Don't!" Vance warned as he saw Maxwell's hand venture closer to the still rock hard flag pole reaching out from his groin. He halted pounding against Jenny's backside for a moment, reaching one hand forward to take a thick handful of that unbelievably devil red hair. He leaned forward a bit, then pulled her head backwards, bending her back until his mouth was near her ear. He whispered to her at a volume also meant for Maxwell, "Tell him no, Jenny. Tell your husband no ... tell him not to do it."

He released his grip on her hair so fast that she literally slapped against the table, and without hesitation Vance was once again pounding at her so hard that he honestly feared the wooden table might give way and collapse to the floor. He was determined to make Jenny explode before he permitted Maxwell to do the same. They wanted Vance to be hard, violent, mean; and what was meaner than not letting Maxwell achieve the release he so desperately wanted?

 

[SandS13]

He was fucking her harder than any man had. She had taken a few and some who thought they were rough but Vance was stronger, harder and more forceful than the rest.

Her hands grasped at the table as he plunged into her body over and over. Jenny was barely registering what was occurring between Vance and Max she was so lost in the feel of his fingers digging into her skin and cock deep in her cunt.

Vance pulled her up and back. She strained against him. "Don't Max."

He let her go and Jenny fell forward onto the table.

She was close to cumming. "Oh god...yes...I...oh, oh...."

Max stood there not touching his cock but it twitched and moved. He feared he would finish without any contact at this point.