Something... Talk About in Tx Ch. 02

It took a good bit to get her where he needed. Two ropes around her neck, and an hour of battle had her wearied to the point where it seemed he might safely approach her. A job better handled by two, but they were short that day. He could handle it.

Miguel found him there, treating the cut on her leg, moving closer slowly. Didn't want to spook her.

"Dangerous, alone," the old man said.

"Didn't want her to get into the brush, or turn up lame. Thought I'd have it taken care of an hour ago."

An experienced eye checked over his work, before giving a grudging nod. "You got this?"

"Yessir, I'll have her through the gate within the hour."

"Lock it up behind you."

Jonathan felt a pride in his work, he hadn't felt for far too long. His shoulders ached, his hands were rubbed raw, and he would be lucky to get back before dark. He was happier than he had any right to be.

He removed the ropes, talking softly, calming the cow. Vincent was laying down a couple of feet away, patiently. He rubbed the young dog's head, praising him for this work. "Good boy, Vincent."

He smiled, recalling Joey picking out the name. His son thought the dog's hair color, a blue, black and grey mix, along with a largish light grey spot on his side, looked like Vincent Van Gogh's Starry Night. Jonathan didn't see it, but he was proud the boy even knew who Van Gogh was. Grandpa agreed that Vincent was a better name than 'Dog'.

* * *

She was wearing a filmy negligee, the outline of her red panties barely visible. She looked nervous as she handed him the drink.

"Where are the kids?" Jonathan asked.

"With your mother."

He lifted an eyebrow.

"Until morning. Please don't be mad. I... we need some time alone."

He could smell the steak from the broiler. He was starving. Then again, he always was of late. Hard labor does that to a man.

She pulled him over to his chair, and struggled cutely to get his boots off. She landed on her butt, when the second came free, and he had to laugh at the image of her, dressed for play, with his dusty boot in her hand, sitting on the floor with her legs splayed, the tiny red bikini panties on display.

She got up and called him to the dinner table. His plate had a large T-bone, with a loaded baked potato. Hers had a small fillet, and some asparagus. One of the perks of working on a ranch. Plenty of beef, all free.

There was a piece of paper above his plate.

He picked it up, and she said softly. "I'm clean. I haven't seen him since that night. I won't be with him anymore."

He stood up and walked around the table, giving her a hug. "I'm sorry. I know this is difficult for you."

She shook her head. "No, don't apologize. I'm sorry. I... I don't know how it happened. Please forgive me."

He picked her up in his arms, and she squealed cutely. "The dinner!"

Jonathan carried her to their bedroom. "We'll reheat it."

It had been almost two months. Two months since either of them had sex. Jonathan got carried away, tearing the panties off of her, and thrusting inside her desperately, only moments after she'd managed to get his clothes off.

She cried out for him, her hands floating across his skin, touching, feeling, remembering. He was harder, like he had been back then, muscled, huge, looming over her. Her own cowboy. She felt the pain of his thrusts, his hips pounding against her, pressing her backward. Her fingers slid across his smooth head, running through his beard, across his neck, fingers fluttering across his cheek.

Jonathan leaned over her, staring down into the face of the woman who had betrayed him, choosing another over him for a year. He hammered his aching cock into her as hard as he could, punishing her. Pussy was pussy. He'd fucked a whore before.

She whimpered, moaning, taking the beating and relishing it. Feeling his strength, his power, dominating her. The feel of him inside her, filling her. Each stroke driving her passion higher until she was whining, moaning, begging him to make her come.

Her gasping cry made him wonder how many times the bastard had wrenched such a noise from her. He slowed down, pounding long hard strokes into her cheating cunt. He growled his anguish and erupted deep inside her, filling her.

She was still gasping when he put his cock in front of her mouth. She looked up at him nervously, but didn't dare deny him. He wasn't asking, she understood. She opened her mouth, the slimy texture disturbing. She sucked, moving further down his rod, her tongue reaching out and cleaning beyond her lips. She felt his hand in her hair, holding her, while he pressed forward.

Susan gazed upward into his hard eyes. Forgive me she tried to convey, doing her best to clean him and ready him for more. He firmed up between her lips and she fought back the gagging, trying to swallow, relaxing her jaw, as he penetrated the top of her throat for the first time. She almost choked, but wouldn't pull away. Not this time.

Jonathan felt more of his cock penetrate her mouth than ever before. Sliding into her tight throat, her lips pressed against the very base of his cock. Was this something that bastard had taught her? She'd never done it before.

He pushed her off his cock, flipped her over onto her knees, and pulled her to the edge of the bed. He entered her easily, and fucked her with a force driven by anger.

Susan couldn't believe how excited she was. He was taking her, claiming her back. She was his, however he wanted. She moaned for him, on every stroke, feeling his hard body slamming against her ass. Driving into her. Filling her exquisitely. His hands, strong and rough, holding her hips, pulling her back with each stroke, intensifying it.

Once more she felt that wonderful feeling building, a giant crescendo, until she was shrieking, coming for her man, yielding to him. It was the most intense she could ever remember, no mercy, no down-time, a constant high, making her come over and over again, helpless.

Jonathan ran his hand across her hips, over her tight little ass. He wasn't the only one who'd lost weight, he realized. She must have dropped 20 pounds. Damn, she hadn't looked this good since before Cindy.

He pulled out and pushed her onto the bed. He lifted one leg, straddling the other, while she lay on her side, trembling. He entered her again, clinging to her thigh, fiercely hammering inside of her. He reached down and rubbed her clit, wanting to feel her coming for him again. Over and over. Let her see who the better lover was.

She was moaning, crying, begging him to fuck her, and he did everything he could to oblige her. When he couldn't hold back any longer, he rammed in as far as he could and yielded to the inevitable.

They ate naked, and he had her blow him for dessert. Sitting at the table, his chair turned to the side, sipping his drink while she brought him ever closer to his finish. He thought about stopping her, finishing it in the bedroom, but it felt too good. Too right. He leaned back, closing his eyes as the end approached. She didn't stop, didn't hesitate, taking his seed in her mouth, sucking him dry in penance.

Afterward, he tilted her chin up so she would look at him. He offered her his drink and she shook her head, no. "I want to taste it," she said softly.

They showered together, and he held her in his arms, as they drifted off to sleep. I'm going to miss this.

* * *

Susan walked out of the back door of the ranch, looking for her kids. Her feet ached from standing all day, but she was back with her family now.

She saw the group of men, gathered in a circle inside the fence. She started rushing forward when she saw there was some kind of fighting going on. Len's wife, Grace, was leaning against the fence. She grabbed Susan's arm.

"Leave 'em be."

"What's going on?" Susan asked desperately. She spotted her son standing beside Jason Krum, one of the boys in Cindy's class. When Joey turned, she saw her son had a black eye, and swollen lip. Strangely he was grinning.

"They're learning your boy some lessons on self-defense," Grace explained, hanging onto Susan's tense arm.

"I don't want him fighting!"

"I don't imagine you want him getting his ass kicked."

Susan was surprised to see her daughter Cindy walk out with a tray of drinks. The 10 year old walked over and stopped in front of her brother, letting him choose first. Then she turned to Jason, blushing as she offered him one.

"What's this all about? Cindy would sooner kick Joey's butt then wait on him. They fight like cats and dogs."

Grace tugged Susan over to the railing, her arm around her waist. "He saved her bacon. Fought for her. Got his little butt kicked for it."

Susan gasped. "He... he doesn't fight. We don't allow that."

"Good thing he did today. Couple of boys from school figured that since Cindy was her mother's daughter, she'd be easy, fool around. Caught her behind the bleachers. Had her shirt off before your boy waded into them, little fists flying. That's how Jason tells it. He heard the shouting and found two of the little bastards holding Joey down and beating on him. There was no quit in him, though, he kept gettin' up, goin' back for more. Jason evened things up."

"They're just kids! Fighting doesn't solve anything. They should have gone to the teachers."

Grace looked at her in disgust. "Are you stupid? She'd be soiled goods by now if they went that route. The little assholes would probably get lectured. Maybe not even that. Sometimes a man's gotta stand up for what's right. Even if he only stands belt high."

"He could have gotten killed!"

"Doesn't change things. You should be proud of him. Sticking up for family. Protecting his sister like that. The men'll make sure he knows how to hold up his end in a fight. You leave the boy alone now. This is their world."

Cindy walked over to where the two of them stood, leaning against the railing, watching.

"You alright, baby?" Susan asked hesitantly.

"Mmhmm," her daughter replied absentmindedly, her attention firmly focused on the crowd. "Isn't he great, Momma?"

Her daughter's look of infatuation wasn't lost on her. "Who, Cindy?"

"Jason. The way he beat the tar out of the those jerks. They'll never mess with me again. Not as long as Jason and Joey are around."

Susan didn't hear Max walking up behind her. "Hell of a kid you raised, Susan. Whatever else anyone says about you, they can't take that away. You can be proud of your son. I know I am."

She watched her boy get off the ground again, brushing his jeans off, while one of the ranch-hands lifted his arm up, showing him how to hold it. She wanted to run out there, hug him, hold him, protect him. She watched her little boy kick out with his boot, and follow up with a big haymaker. He'd fought to protect his sister. Against older boys, three on one. So much like his father.

"I am proud of him. Don't let him get hurt, Max. Please?"

Max laughed. "It ain't him you should be worried about. Boy's got sand. No quit in him whatsover."

"Where's my husband? Why isn't he here?"

"Irrigation problem. He probably doesn't even know what's going on yet. He'll be back soon enough. Ranch don't shut down over one little fight."

Susan recalled Grace's words about Cindy being her mother's daughter. Easy. Her reputation, making her little girl a target. It wasn't fair. None of it was. Now the kids were suffering for it. Would her nightmare ever end?

* * *

"Oh God, this is going to be a bad one," Officer Banks said, holding a handkerchief up to his nose.

His partner reached into his pocket and pulled out the Vick's and rubbed a little under each nostril. He passed the container to the younger guy. The kid would learn.

They called out again, getting no reply. The house was a mess, papers scattered, dirty plates in the living room and kitchen. The smell was strongest from the back of the house. They followed it into a bedroom, eyes watering from the stench.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" Banks gasped. "That's seriously fucked up."

The naked man was lying in a pile of photographs, some large, some small. Letters were scattered at his feet. The bottle of vodka, less than half full, and the empty prescription pill containers told them all they needed to know. That and the stench of death. The mirrors in the room had been broken, and they could see the dried blood on the guy's hands where he must have hit them.

"Never could understand how a man could take his own life, over some broad," Officer Gilroy said, shaking his head.

He turned to his protégé. "Call it in. Nothing else for us here."

* * *

Jonathan sat with the Eagles, all of their gazes turned on him.

"Figured he'd run. Not take the coward's way out," Grandpa said. "Get away from that house and all the memories around here. It wasn't what I wanted. Maybe he really was depressed."

Jonathan shrugged. "Doesn't bother me. Bastard had it coming."

"Do you still want to go through with the rest?" his grandfather asked.

Carl Jenkins spoke up. "She's doing a good job at the store. It'll be a shame to let her go. You and the family are all she talks about now. I... I don't know if it matters, but she sure seems like she loves you."

Jonathan nodded. "I believe she does, or as much as she can understand the concept. No, this doesn't change anything. She's back now, but who knows when she'll try that shit again. I want to move ahead. Finish it."

His grandfather reached out and gave his wrist a painful squeeze. Those old hands could crush walnuts. They could make paste out of his bones. Jonathan understood. It was as close to a hug as he'd ever get. "It's going to be hard on the kids. They're good, you know. Don't know how they ever came out of that bitch, but they did."

"I know," Jonathan told him. "I'm not going to lock her out of their lives. I... I just can't get past what she did. For a fuckin' year."

* * *

Susan was tired, but feeling better about things. It had been over three months since her world had blown up. It had been hard. Torturous to be honest. Things were getting better. The time on the ranch with the kids was good for them, healing.

She grinned to herself. The sex. Nothing to complain about there. Never better. Wilder, more passionate, more frequent. He came home tired from working the ranch, but rarely too tired to give her a late night workout. His energy was out the roof, and she was the lucky recipient of it.

She knew that her decision to open up to new things, do all the things she'd done with Rich, and more, was helping. She gave her butt-cheeks a little clench, feeling the delicious soreness. She couldn't take that too often, but Jonathan had loved it. He deserved it. All of her.

He loved her. He'd forgiven her. Last night he'd held her, afterward, kissing her. Kissing had been missing. She understood his reluctance, and melted in his arms when his lips met hers.

The words had been almost a whisper, into her ear. "I love you, Susan. I always have. I always will. I want you to know I forgive you. Forgive you for everything. I'm sorry."

She had burst into tears, hugging him desperately. His strong arms held her, supporting her.

He'd taken her again, gently, long and slow. Love. He'd made love to her, his lips caressing hers, looking into her eyes, salty tears falling on her face. The passion of his release had been unbelievable, making her come with him, hanging on for dear life, in danger of losing her mind.

It was going to be alright. Better than alright.

* * *

Jonathan got home early for once. It was culling time, but the morning rains killed that. Uncle Len knew it was a big day for him, so he sent him on his way.

He spotted the for-sale sign on the front lawn. The house had gone to foreclosure. They had 30 days to vacate. Half the kids' stuff had already been moved into his Grandfather's house, slowly, quietly. Rooms for when they stayed over on the weekend, they'd been told.

He knew it would be hard. It shouldn't be. She was a lousy cheating slut. But eleven years, three children, and a few months of repentance took the edge off some of the pain. Some. Not enough.

He showered, dressed in his best shirt, clean jeans. He looked at his tan face in the mirror, trimmed his beard, and inspected himself. A new man looked back at him. A better man in many ways, but sadder. It wasn't what he'd ever wanted for his life.

He went back to the living room, opened a bottle of her favorite wine, and poured two glasses. He placed them on the coffee table, the papers stacked neatly to the side. Jonathan adjusted their placement for the second time.

She did this. Not me. He only had to remember her, the way she spoke to him that first night. Her great lover. Who understood her. Threatening him. Walking out of their house and going to the bastard's bed, leaving him in that unbearable pain. What kind of evil selfish bitch would do that?

Remembering burned away any doubts he might have had.

The door opened, and he stood nervously.

"Jonathan? Why's there a for-sale sign on our house? Are we moving?"

He walked over, took her by the hand and sat her down.

"Baby," he said, the word catching in his throat. "There's something we have to talk about."

She glanced down at the table, the two wine glasses. The stack of papers next to them. She looked at the papers again, her eyes finally recognizing the words. "Original Petition for Divorce."

She turned and looked into his eyes. Searching for sorrow, or anger, she saw emptiness.

"Why?" she asked, trembling.

"You cheated on me for a year, Susan. Insisted I accept it. I'm not made that way. I'm sorry."

She could barely breathe, her hands shaking. "But... but you said you loved me. That you forgave me."

"I do love you. I always will. You were my first true love, and the best wife a man could ask for, for nine wonderful years. The mother of my beautiful children. A terrific mother. I do forgive you. Forgive you for all of it. But that's not enough."

"Please don't do this, Jonathan. You don't want a divorce. It will get ugly. I'll fight it every step of the way. I swear I will. I want my family. I don't want a divorce."

"It's done. Filed. The official process server will be here shortly to serve you. We have 30 days to leave the house. I'll take the kids to Grandpa's, he has the space for them, and you know they love the ranch. I won't keep you from them. We'll have joint custody, and you can see them all you want."

"No! You won't take my kids! I have rights."

"Where are you going to live with them? How are you going to take care of them?"

"Here. I'll keep them here. I'm not going to let you sell my house. Never."

"It's not our house anymore. It's the banks. It's in foreclosure."

She stared at him in shock, trying to absorb his words. "Foreclosure? How?"

"I haven't paid the mortgage in four months. I don't make enough money anymore."

"But... but that's not possible! How come I didn't know?"

"Because I didn't want you to."

She understood then. It had been divorce all along. He never intended to give her a chance. It was all planned. "How could you lead me on like this? For four months? Lying to me. How could you?"

"I just had to remember the two years you lied to me. A year of going to another man's bed, giving him your love, your affection. Making a mockery of our marriage. It was pretty easy, really."

She felt the anger growing. "I'm still their mother. The courts will give them to me. You know they will. I'll make your life hell, Jonathan. You'll never see them if you do this. I swear you won't."

"Where will you live? How will you take care of them?" he asked softly.

"I guess I'll go back to Rich. He'll take me in. He loves me." She knew there wasn't much chance of that. He'd cut off all communications. Still, once she explained...