Thank You, Matt Brady

“Lazy Creek outfitters, Matt Brady, may I help you?”

“It’s me, Matt, Jerry O Leary. Hey, I’ve got something to run by you.”

“Shoot.”

“It is a mad house down here in corrections. Federal judge Collins had just ruled that we must decrease our prison population by thirty-five percent in the next three weeks. It is a follow-up to his order of last year that the governor chose to ignore. This order has teeth. Every day that the state is over, he will fine the state one-hundred-thousand dollars. I just came from a meeting. The governor has told my boss that he will be dammed if he will just turn these people loose. They came up with a plan to place the class A and class B offenders, the non-violent ones, with citizens who will be responsible for their conduct, in exchange for the convict working for the person for nothing during the term of their sentence.”

“Ha, ha, ha. You ought to put all those assholes on a chain gang working in Yellowstone park. Let them live in tents. If it is good enough for the US Army, it seems to me to be okay for some teen age asshole.”

“No can do. We would have a thousand lawsuits from the ACLU. Look, the Attorney General has run this idea by judge Collins. Collins said that he would okay its implementation, with the understanding that he would review it in a year.”

“The thought just crossed my mind, Jerry. Why are you calling me to tell me this?”

“When we last talked during that fishing trip, you said that you were having a hell of a time keeping wranglers to cook and watch the horses when you were out guiding hunters. I thought that you might be interested in one of these people?”

“How do I know that the son-of-a-bitch won’t run off with my horses?”

“That would double their sentence, as well as be a jail break.”

“How much control do I have over a guy while he is with me?”

“The orders say; the Convict Trustee shall have unlimited care, custody and control of said convict, including the right to inspect person, possessions, writings, and conversations.”

“Well, shit, I’ll give it a try. One last question. If I don’t think that it is working, can I return him to you?”

“Anytime?”

“Okay, what do I do?”

“The new prison complex is across the street from the entrance to Warren Air Force Base, just north of Cheyenne, off interstate 25. Can you get here about eleven tomorrow. The people convicted of anything in court the day before arrive here at eleven-thirty. We can pick someone from the computer list. I’ll cut the orders for you to pick the person up as they get off the bus, so that they won’t even have to go through the prison processing.”

“See you tomorrow.”

“Bye.”

Matt Brady and Jerry O Leary had both graduated the year before from the University of Wyoming with a criminal justice degree. Both had been on the judo team. Matt had spent his summers working for Lazy Creek Outfitters, a small outfit based at Riverton. Matt had fallen in love with the Shoshone drainage of the Wind River Range of the Rockies.

Old man Jake Johnston, who owned Lazy Creek, offered to sell it to Matt. He even carried some of the paper, so that the deal would go through. He liked Matt Brady, as did everyone who met him. A quiet, soft-spoken kid, who was always there when you needed him. Matt found a gem of humor in the most odd things, even cleaning out an outhouse pit. Jake saw something else in Matt. He had a wonderful touch with the mules and horses. He had an instinct as to how far to push a dude hunter, as well as where the game might be on a particular day.

Jerry knew that Matt was a go-to guy. That is why he phoned him.

Jerry handed Matt the computer list with twenty-one names on it. “Here, pick you poison. All we have are the names and ages. The sheriff who drives them here has their files.”

The youngest person on the list was Sloan B. Woodman, age nineteen. Matt turned to Jerry. “Here, lets try this Woodman guy. Maybe his name will be a good omen?”

“I’ve got the paperwork all filed out, just have to fill in the name. There, take the papers with you to building C. Go to admitting. Show the papers to the guard. When the bus gets here, the guard will bring the prisoner to you, along with his papers. Your on your own then. In the papers, there is a sheet to show the prisoner. It explains your relationship. Give me a call in a few weeks to let me know how this is working for you. I could probably send two or three more your way if you want them. Good luck.”

“Be in touch, Jerry.”

The bus was a half hour late in arriving. It had both men and women prisoners on it. Matt was sitting sipping a Pepsi, with his straw hat tipped back on his head. A burly guard walked up to him. “Here is the folder on this one.” Turning to the prisoner, “Woodman, this man is in charge of you now.” He turned to return to processing the other prisoners.

Matt sat back on the bench. “There must be some mistake. I’m waiting for a Sloan Woodman. You’re a girl.”

With a frown, the girl said, “I’m Sloan Woodman. My folks kind of wanted a boy, so they hung Sloan on me. Where are you taking me?”

“Hell, I don’t know if I’m taking you anywhere. You were assigned to me under this new program to get prisoners out of the prison. Instead, they would work for someone for the duration of their time. I’m an outfitter. I need a person to be a wrangler, which is to cook and watch the horses for hunting parties in the mountains. You probably wouldn’t want to do that?”

“If I say no, what happens?”

“It is not quite that way. If I want to take you, you go with me. If I want to try someone else, you go sit in a cell until someone else wants you, if anyone does.”

“How much control will you have over me?”

“Here, read this.”

“Right to inspect person and possessions? Would you do that?”

Matt looked at Sloan with a big smile on his face. “You have never been in the mountains on a hunting trip. Let me tell you that the lady hunters want the guide very close by when they are doing their business in grizzly country. I’ve seen fifty pussies, so yours won’t be anything new. As for jumping you to have sex, I give you my word that neither I, nor anyone in my parties will demand sex from you. I‘ll tell you one thing. When I am in the backwoods for a couple weeks at a time, I would love for someone to wash my back with some hot sudsy water once in a while. I think that you would want the same. On second thought, I’d be less then honest with you if I were to tell you that I would not want to see you naked. From what I can see of you, in your baggy orange outfit, you are a good looking girl.”

“I could not stand being in an twelve by eight cell with three other women. I’ll go with you and try my best to be a wrangler.”

Matt drove to a Wall Mart. Leaving Sloan in his Ford F350, diesel, crew-cab pick-up, he went in to buy her some clothes. On route 135, just outside Sandy Draw he stopped in a pull out.

“Change your clothes here. We aren’t going to tell anyone that you anything but a friend of mine who signed on for the season.”

With a puzzled look, Sloan replied. “Thank you for that, Matt Brady, I don’t know if your for real or not, yet, but I like what I see.”

At the dinner table, Matt asked. “What were you convicted of?”

“Prostitution. But I am not a prostitute I was railroaded.”

With his criminal justice background, Matt knew enough about the system to know that could happen, so he asked. “What happened?”

“I had gone to a photo shoot for prospective models. I became friendly with a girl by the name of Molly Palmer. A week ago, I saw her standing on a street corner. I could not pull over right there, so I parked down the block and walked back to speak with her. A car stopped right next to us. The guy asked, “So how much will it cost me for a half hour of straight sex?”

Molly said, “One hundred, fifty.”

Two police cruisers pulled up. We were arrested. Both Molly and I told them that I was not working the streets. However, they found a list of men’s names in my purse. All contacts in Hollywood given to me to try to find work. Also, they found my photo shoot album.

The prosecutor jumped on that. I had an indecency conviction a year ago in Florida. During spring break, I had gotten drunk. Like all the other girl. I flashed my breasts. I was unlucky and did it just as a cop arrived.

The judge gave me a year in the can, with a lecture that he would clear the streets of sinners like me. You know what the real irony is in all this? I’m a virgin.”

“Ho, ho, ho, ha, ha. Jesus Christ, I’ve heard everything now. You know, I half-way believe you.”

“Why should I lie to you?”

“I should check your pussy to verify your story. Ha, ha.”

Getting very red in the face, Sloan angrily continued. “It is not funny. Those jerks have taken a year of my life. I want the dignity of at least one person knowing the truth. It might as well be you, since I belong to you for the next year. Here, God dammit. Look at my hole. I’m a Kotex girl. Not so much as a tampon has been in me, let alone some guy’s peter.”

With that, Sloan dropped her pants, walked over to Matt, turned from him, spread her legs, bent over and held her labia lips apart. Within two feet of Matt’s face was a shiny red split, with Sloan’s clit protruding like a small finger. Over that was a hole smaller then a dime.

“May I touch you?”

“Yes.”

Gently, Matt placed his little finger at her hole. It would not go in with gentle pressure. He wet his finger with his mouth. This time, it slid into her.

With a look of astonishment, Matt sat back. “Pull you pants up. Oh my God, Sloan, you are telling the truth.”

“Stand up, Matt Brady.”

When he did, she kissed him. It was a long slow kiss, with her body pressed against his. When she released his lips, she said, “Thank you Matt Brady. Thank you for not having me wear that orange suit here. Thank you for not forcing yourself on me. And most of all, thank you for hearing me out, and giving me an honest chance to explain myself. Lastly, thank you for not trying to put your peter, which I notice is pushing your pants out, in me, when I was exposed.”

Matt, red in the face from embarrassment, stammered out, “I could not do that. It would destroy the evidence.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Look, I have an idea. In a few days, I have three men coming here for me to take them on a bighorn sheep hunt. They may be able to help you.”

“Matt Brady, you are something. How could they help me?”

“One of them is associated with Harvard medical school. One has something to do with Boston General Hospital. The other guy is the dean of the Harvard law school.”

Sloan sat down, speechless. When she regained her composure, she spoke. “If I get this right, you are going to ask the doctors to examine me to verify that I am still a virgin. Then, ask the law dean to contact the authorities to contest my conviction. Would they do that? Would they get involved?”

“They are hunters, sportsman. I find that the kind of guys that pays thousands of dollars to come experience the wilderness are the finest men who walk the earth.”

“Matt, I don’t have any money to pay them.”

“Let’s see what happens.”

Two weeks later, Matt explained Sloan Woodman’s case to: Dr. Charles Rust, MD, OB/GYM, Dean of Harvard Medical school women’s medicine division, Dr. Claude Isabelle MD, OB/GYM, Director of women’s medicine at Boston General. And last but not least, Louis Nizer, LLB. Dean of the Harvard Law school. Sloan sat nearby. She was astounded by the fact that men like this would take the time to even listen to a case like hers.

Dr. Rust turned to her. “Miss Woodman, if you wish, I will examine you, as will Dr. Isabelle. If Mr. Brady’s description of you is accurate, I think that we can do something for you.”

Sloan begin to sob. Tears poured down her face. She covered her face with her hands as her shoulders shook. Dr. Rust went and sat at her side. He pulled her to his chest. She continued to sob. “Here, here, young lady. Whatever we find, we will be in your corner. One way or the other, we will do something about this.”

The two doctors and Sloan were in the bedroom for only a few minutes. When they returned, Dr. Rust said to Dean Nizer. “Louis, both Claude and I agree that we are willing to testify to the fact that it is a medical certainty that this young lady has never had sex. Prostitute? Preposterous!”

Louis Nizer, who was reading, looked over his glasses at Matt. “Is Frank Coleman your sitting governor?”

“Yes Sir.”

“It is past five, I’ll phone him at home.”

On the phone, Dean Nizer said to the person that answered the Coleman’s phone. “Hello, this is Louis Nizer. I wish to speak to Governor Coleman.” There was a pause as that person tried to put him off. Nizer continued. “Oh, I think that he will want to speak to me. Tell him Dean Nizer is on the line. I’ll hold.”

“Yes, Coleman, how are you?… Yes, I’m fine… You have done well for yourself… Look, the reason that I am calling is that while visiting over here in Riverton, I have come across a miscarriage of justice. I want you to issue a pardon in the case tomorrow… Yes, tomorrow… Coleman, you know that I have a distaste for shoddy work. In this case, if the prosecutor had checked any of the evidence, or the condition of the defendant herself, there would never had been a prosecution… Yes, I know that you are busy. Let me put it this way. If I do not receive a faxed pardon by five PM tomorrow, I will present the case to a local attorney for suit, and will sit as lead council… Coleman, my witnesses are The dean of the Harvard medical school woman’s medicine division, and the director of women’s medicine for Boston General… I will fax the woman’s file along with the medical affidavits which prove her innocence… Thank you Coleman.”

Turning to the doctors, Matt and Sloan, Nizer intoned. “He is a good man. Not a great lawyer. C plus student, as I recall. I had him on probation a few times. You‘ll get your pardon tomorrow.

Let’s see, Matt, could we go over the maps where you are planning to set up our spike camp. As I recall you mentioned the little creek drainage.”

“With a smile Matt said, “Whoa. I have to have a quick pow-wow with Miss Woodman. Sloan, please join me in the office.”

Once in the office, Matt turned to Sloan. “Look gal, if you get that pardon tomorrow, will I be out of a wrangler?”

“Matt Brady, are you asking because you in a fix, or are you asking because you have an interest in me?”

Matt took her in his arms. He kissed her for a long time. It was a show of affection that he could not hide, he could not fake. As they parted, she jabbed him in the ribs with her fingers. Kidding, she added, “It seems that you have an interest in me, probably because I am a certified virgin.”

“Sloan, I’m a virgin too. Never found a girl that I was comfortable with.”

Sloan got a surprised look, then one of love. “Your sweet, Matt Brady. I think I’m going to like it around here.”

The faxed pardon came as promised. The doctors and Dean Nizer did not shoot a ram, but all signed up for a hunt the following year. Matt and Sloan found themselves alone for three days before the next party arrived.

During the hunt, they were tented in a spike camp at the ten-thousand foot level. With grizzly sign around, Matt would stand within ten feet of Sloan as she did her business in a pit he had dug for that purpose. She became accustomed to his seeing her bottom, naked.

Once back at the cabin, she walked from the bathroom to her bedroom with just a towel on. Matt come up to her to give her a kiss. Sloan let go of the towel, while pressing her naked body to his. She felt his cock rise in his pants. She ground her pelvic mount into his bulge.

“Hey, stop that. I’m only human.”

Sloan kissed him, while holding both sides of his head. Her hips gyrated as she continued to press her pubic mound against his now fully erect cock.

Matt reached down to run his hand up her pussy. He had heard that women got wet down there. Sloan was wet.He backed her into her bedroom, and gently lowered her to the bed. As fast as he could, he took off his clothes, to stand before her with his cock bobbing, pointing up. She never looked at it. Her eyes were on Matt’s face. She had a look of passion on her face. Matt lowered himself onto her. He fumbled with the end of his cock trying to place it at her entrance. She reached up to guide it. Now in place, he pushed trying to enter her. It did not go in.

Bewildered, he asked, “What do I do now?”

Sloan had heard girls talking about their first sex. One girl had told her that it took her boy friend three different nights to finally get his cock in her. Sloan would have none of that. Not with Matt Brady.

“Matt. Don’t worry about me. Put it in. Please.”

Matt slowly built up the pressure. Sloan turned her head and bit the pillow. Matt pushed harder. Sloan clenched her teeth. Matt thrust his ass as hard as he could. He ripped her hymen membrane, burying his cock to the balls in her. “Oh, oh, God, that hurt,” Sloan moaned out.

Matt pulled out. He kissed her on the forehead. He ran his finger across her brow. “Sloan, Honey, I’m so sorry. maybe we should wait for another night?”

Sloan opened her eyes. She tenderly kissed Matt on the lips. Sloan knew from what the other girls had said that once the guy was in, the hard part was over. “Matt, I have been wanting you in me since the night before I was pardoned. I have my sights set on you. I want to marry you. I want you to be the daddy for my children. Please put your cock in me.”

Matt slid his cock in Sloan. He raised up on his elbows. “Seems to me that I was just proposed to. Aren’t I the one who is supposed to do that?”

As he was saying that, Sloan was undulating her hips so that her pussy was stirring Matt’s cock. “You better hurry up if your intention is to propose before you make me pregnant. I’m not on the pill.”

Matt’s cock was so hard he thought that it would burst. “Sloan Woodman, would you consent to be my wife?”

Sloan kissed him, as she thrust his pussy hard against his cock, causing him to thrust as hard as he could into her pussy, as his cock erupted with spurt after spurt of hot sperm, baby making sperm. Matt, who could find humor in anything, murmured, “Ha, ha, I take that as a yes.”

I’m Softly

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