Loving Lydia

She looks up at me and bits her lip. "That won't be necessary."

"Why not?" I place the coins in my pocket.

"Mr. Bingham offered to pay for everything when he heard what you were doing." She places her cup down on the floor and stands so that I'm not towering over her.

Hearing his name already puts me in a foul mood, listening to her explanation makes it worse. I'm willing to buy what it takes to show girls they can do things on their own and here comes this ogre throwing his money at Lydia to remind her who has the most power here. It's probably eating him up knowing I'm building roots here. Not just with Lydia or the others anymore, but now I have the little girls looking up to me. The very future of his town.

"Oh," I cross my arms. "That wasn't necessary. I have my own money."

She looks uncomfortable. "I know, but I also know you have been saving up."

"Did you ask him for the money?" I feel almost insignificant.

She is gnawing on her bottom lip. "I didn't expect you to pay for anything. You were just supposed to come in and talk to the girls. And I knew this would cost a lot-"

I turn away, irrationally angry because I know she was just looking out for me. But the thought of her having to ask him for money because of me, tuns my stomach. He is probably laughing at the thought of throwing more money at her to have her in his mercy.

"I need a drink." I fix the saddle on Jerry but before I can jump on him, I feel her hand on my arm.

"Don't be stubborn." She sounds upset. "He has more money than he knows what to do with. This is a drop compared to what he can actually give."

I move away from her hand and get on top of Jerry. "Don't expect me back anytime soon."

******

I've always known this country is for men. Especially white men with money.

They have all of the freedom and privileges that I never will. They get the respect and the roles in leadership because money is power. It is how Joseph Bingham swoops in to save the day for a little damsel like Lydia. When I picture her, I don't see her as this meek, docile woman who needs someone like Joseph. But when she's around him he must make her feel safe and protected. Otherwise, why would she run to him when she needs something? Does she really think she is doing me a favor?

I get some stares and looks when I walk into the saloon, but overall, no outward hostility.

They must have heard about the woman that dresses like a man. I expect to be thrown out as soon as I walk in but maybe they don't consider me a threat. I'm anything but a respectable lady who doesn't belong here. They can see that. It's late enough that the crowd is thinning, which is a good thing.

I make my way to the bar and sit down two seats away from an inebriated old man.

The bartender walks over to me. I'm surprised to see it's a woman.

"This is a first." She wipes the old wooden counter in front of me.

She's about my age. Long dark hair, tied up and away from her face. She has some harsh features that probably add on years to her looks and experience. She's also very tall.

"I say," This might make my true purpose of coming here a lot easier.

While I did want to get away from Lydia for pissing me off, even though she really didn't do anything wrong, I also came to snoop. Maybe overhear some talk about the revolts down south. Or maybe even find a drunk fellow with loose lips and an empty pocket. A female bartender might be more open to sharing secrets with another woman in a man's world. "Give me the strongest thing you got."

She waits until I put a coin down on the bar. I'm a stranger, haven't yet built up her trust yet. I don't take it personally.

She takes the coin and walks back to get a bottle. She pours a generous amount into the cup and then puts the bottle back.

There isn't much movement behind me. Although no one has outright come out and said anything about my presence here, it is still odd. They want to know what I'm doing here, why I've decided to come now.

"What brings you into town?" She picks up some cups and starts wiping them down.

"I haven't had a good drink in months. Been trying to stop, but had to cave." I raise my glass in a cheer and take a sip. Shit, that burns. I look down to make sure no hairs have sprouted from my chest.

"Is it true you're staying at Archie's place?" She pays a little too much attention to the cup before her.

"Yes. Lydia has given me a place to stay until I can save enough money to go back home." I take another sip.

The old man next to us raises his eyebrows. "She always did bring in strays."

I ignore his comment.

"Where is home?" She moves on to the next cup.

"How long have you been bartending?" I inquire. While I do want to put her at ease and give her information, I also have my own agenda.

"Since my father moved with the rest in search of gold." She stops cleaning. "My brother was killed shortly after my father left, so naturally I had to take over."

"How did he die?" I drink again.

"Highway robbers."

"Sorry to hear that." It must have been very hard to take this upon herself. Drunk men are by far the worst to deal with. "Does it get rowdy here?"

She smiles a little and winks at the drunk old man still staring at me. "I got my backup."

Someone walks in through the double doors and everyone stills. The bartender's mouth drops and I turn back to see Lydia walk into the bar in her riding dress.

"For the love of-" I whisper under my breath and turn back to the bar.

"Hey, sweetheart," Someone yells in her direction. "I've got a seat for you right here."

Others begin to chime in and some even whistle in her direction. My hands tighten on the cup before me until my knuckles turn white. Does she want a death wish on every man in this bar? With every whistle and degrading comment, it becomes harder for me to stay cool. I finish my drink and motion for another.

I see her red hair as she takes the seat next to me.

"Hello, Miss Lydia. What can I get you?" The bartender tries her best to pretend all of this is normal. I'm sure this is not how she expected her night to go.

"I'll have what she's having." Her voice is stern but I know she's nervous. There's a little tilt in it that I've heard before.

"What are you doing here?" I don't look in her direction.

"I needed a drink." The words are mocking.

If I wasn't so upset with how shitty today has gone, I would have at least smiled.

"Thank you, Mel." She is about to pull out a coin but I throw two of mine down.

"How's Archie doing?" The bartender, who I just learned goes by Mel, stays nearby to talk to her.

Lydia takes a sip of her drink and immediately begins to cough.

Mel rushes to get her some water and cleans the mess she made. I pat her back and stop once I see she's not coughing anymore.

"He's good. Apparently, there's a lot of gold where he's at, up north." She takes a sip of her water and I notice her hand is shaking.

"My daddy says the same thing." Mel fills up Lydia's cup a little more.

The two catch up, apparently Lydia used to be Mel's teacher. They talk about Mel's mom, Lydia's husband, and all else that is unimportant to me.

I take my time drinking my second drink. With amusement I see Lydia drinking more and more of what's left in her cup. With each sip her face takes on an appealing blush. She sits more comfortably and her scowl is gone.

The men start to disperse. It might have been fun to tease her initially but one look from me and they quickly realized she's not here alone. Even the drunk at the other end of the bar avoids looking at her for more than a second. It's also getting late and I'm sure most of their wives are sitting at home waiting for their arrivals.

"Almost closing time." Mel takes my third empty cup and Lydia's second.

I wait until the last man leaves the saloon before leaning over to talk to Mel.

"You hear anything about the revolts down south?" I take out my bag full of coins and place them on the counter.

Mel's eyes look at the bag with a controlled urge. I'm sure this will help her along for the next month. It is not all of my savings but a good amount.

"Maybe." She leans forward and places a hand over the bag. "What do you want to know? Men like to talk when they have enough liquor in them."

"Where was the last one?"

Lydia tries to stand, completely disregarding our conversation, and she almost falls.

I stand and take her by the waist, holding her against me.

"There's talk of some crops burnt near the capital." I can tell she's curious about my questions but not enough to ruin her chances of getting money. "They said it was the sun but only an idiot would believe that. They're getting harder to control."

"How close to the capital?" I know I only have a few more questions before she asks for more money.

Lydia is resting her head against my shoulder. Her arms wrap around my neck and I feel her lips brush right below my ear. Holy-

I shift to move her away from my neck and ignore Mel's knowing look.

"About two hours south." She moves from behind the bar and walks to the door to let us out. "For another bag I can do some more investigating for you."

And risk being caught? No thanks. Even if she did get more information, it would only be a matter of time before she asked the wrong person and threw me under the bus. This is dangerous enough. But seeing as I am leaving soon, this is plenty to get me by. I have a direction to go towards.

"Will I be seeing you again?" Mel helps me get Lydia on the horse. She sits up trying to look high and mighty until she hiccups. I tie up Jody's horse behind us and silently curse. I can't believe she really borrowed a horse to come here. I hop up behind her and shift her around so she's leaning back against me.

I nod my head. "I'll be back to see if you've heard anything else."

She squints her eyes in distrust but nods her head.

I begin to plot my next moves. It's time to leave. Time to gather my savings, get enough food to travel east, and say my goodbyes. Lydia is barely breathing as Jerry carries us home. I kiss the top of her head.

When we get home, I carry her to her bed and remove her shoes. I sit down next to her and stare down at her sleeping figure.

"So that's it?" Her eyes open and she doesn't look as drunk as she did a few moments ago.

"Go to sleep, Lydia." I move to stand but am stopped by a small dagger against my throat.

"You're going to leave me now? For them?" She sits up and moves the dagger closer to my skin. Her hand is trembling.

"Are you going to turn me in now?" I grind my teeth in anger.

"Are you leaving?"

Her speech is no longer slurred. Her eyes are sharp and her scowl is back. I have quite an actress on my hands.

"What if I was?"

She gives me a leveled look.

I quickly grab her wrist and twist it until she drops the dagger. I pull her close enough to whisper against her cheeks.

"Don't ever do that again." I want to turn her over and spank her until the morning. And yet, I know that will only lead to worse things. I'm fighting so hard not to kiss her and get wrapped up in her soft eyes. I throw her back on her bed and leave her room.

******

I wake up sweating in the middle of the night.

Since my time here, I have struggled with ignoring the past and not thinking about it before going to bed. The nightmares have always been just below the surface but they're getting worse. I need to start moving.

Out of habit I get up and walk to the living room to make sure I can see into Lydia's room. She's sleeping soundly. If she had followed me back to my room last night, she probably knew how that would end. I'm both relieved and disappointed she didn't. I have to keep my head in the game.

I go back to my room and stare up at the dark ceiling. The nightmares are getting worse. This time they're involving her. She's getting dragged away from me. Being pulled into their arms and being passed around like a common whore. Except she's yelling at the top of her lungs to be saved and I'm stuck in quicksand, unable to move. I can't even yell. Before it would be images of slaves that I helped escape, but now they're all of her. She is digging herself into my conscience.

This town is calm and I am a hundred times happier that I ended up here where most are too poor to own slaves but I know where they stand. They see themselves as superior. They pray to their pristine God about helping them through turbulent times and damn people of color to the pits of Hell. I will admit most of the hate comes from Joseph and his small group of rich friends who look down at everyone that is of no use to them. But I group them all together because they allow their beliefs to influence them. It is ass backwards to me but I bite my tongue and avoid calling attention to myself. I need to go back to what I was doing. Something with a purpose. Not pretending to love thy neighbor in this little hick town.

I toss and turn thinking about the nightmare and my future plans until the sun rises.

I wait until I hear her moving around the kitchen before getting out of bed.

"How are you feeling?" I ask as we pump the water out.

"I have an awful headache." She doesn't meet my eyes.

"Is your wrist okay?" I'm nervous I might have hurt her last night.

She lifts her chin and sniffs in response. If I hurt her, she won't show it.

"I'm sorry." I motion to touch her hand but she moves away.

We continue to pump in silence.

We take turns getting the water warm enough to wash ourselves. I try not to picture her rubbing a small cloth against her unblemished skin, rubbing away all of the dirt from last night. I'm quick with my cleaning. If I linger too long, my mind wonders and it takes a while before I can cool off again.

Even though I have seen a difference in Lydia since I first got here, she is still just as cautious as before. She doesn't do a lot of small talk, doesn't offer up a lot of information, and I don't pry. We probably know the same about each other as our neighbors do, which isn't saying much. I prefer to keep it that way. It is one thing to lust after her, quite another to fawn over her. I feel like she probably knows a lot more than she lets on but I don't mind. As long as she doesn't go running to others with the information, she can snoop all she wants. Not that she will.

I break our evening routine by talking to her. We usually don't talk unless she's telling me the food is ready or I'm telling her what I fixed for the day. This house has gotten more attention during my time here than it has in the past year. That is another worry of mine I can't dwell on. When will her husband be back? Will he be able to deal with the upkeep?

"I'm thinking of heading out by the end of the week." I continue picking at the beans on my plate. "If you keep taking care of the crops in the back the potatoes should grow within the next two months. You'll have enough to make a profit for them."

She has stopped turning the ladle in stew. That is the only indication I have that she has heard me. She starts stirring again and turns even further away so that I can't look at her.

I've noticed she does this when she doesn't want me to see whatever she is thinking. Whether she is uncomfortable or angry or upset she turns away and gives me the cold shoulder instead of voicing her displeasure. It's rare, but it happens.

I go stand next to her and wash my plate.

"I have something I want to show you." She lets her hair fall on her shoulder so I can't see her face.

I wash my plate with more patience. Taking comfort in her presence and standing next to her for as long as she lets me.

She removes the pot from the fire and inclines her head so I follow her out the back door. She grabs Jerry's reins. She places two thick riding blankets on him to make enough room for the both of us. She hops on and indicates that I jump behind her.

I don't know if I can do this. Sitting so close to her, having her rub against me. It would be impossible to avoid touching her. After last night I've thought of little else than allowing my hands to wander through her body. Especially with the way her lips felt against my neck.

"Maybe I should walk." Only God knows the temptation I'm currently fighting.

"You need to be able to keep up. We don't have much time before I have to go to bed." She turns away again so I can't see her face.

I silently curse my weak resolve and hop on behind her. She clicks her tongue and urges Jerry forward. I immediately feel the heat radiating off her back and throw caution to the wind. I look around to make sure no one is close enough to see us. There isn't a soul out tonight. They are all getting ready to turn in and prepare for another day of the same thing. Predictability is as sure as death here.

I wrap my hands around her hips and pull her tightly against me. She gasps but doesn't move an inch. She doesn't lean back against me but also doesn't move away. I spread my hands out and rub along her legs until each hand is splayed out on her thighs, over her dress.

"Lead the way." I lean in to whisper into her ear. Her curly hair tickles my nose but I dig in and take a deep breath. Sunshine and daisies assault my senses.

She grabs the reins with shaky hands. I feel her thighs flex as she pushes her heels into Jerry. He picks up his lazy pace.

My hands wander over her legs, her hips, and as far in between as I can get. She's moving Jerry at an inconsistent pace for someone who wants to go to sleep soon. Her breathing turns into pants and I pull her dress up. We're away from prying eyes. Lightly trotting into the unknown with only the moon to guide us. I want to dip my fingers into her honey pot but I don't want to do it here. On a horse. Not on Jerry. I lower her dress instead and allow my hands to move up her ribs and onto her breasts. Oh God. Fuck me. They are huge. Bigger than I remember. Much too big for my hands and just the perfect size to suckle on. I pull her back so that she leans her head against my chest. I kiss her hair as I pluck her nipples through the cloth.

"Oh..." She moans out loud.

Shit. She sounds so beautiful. Nothing like the angry little woman who has a bone to pick. She is all soft and womanly.

I look down at my hands and can't sustain my hunger any more. I pull at the strings at the front of her dress and finally pull the neckline down when I have enough room. The moonlight splashes against her fair skin and her delectable nipples. I hold one breast in each hand and weigh them. I pull them up, push them against her, and let them fall and jiggle in all of their glory.

"Fuck." I breathe into her hair. I'm completely drenched. My mouth is watering and I want to make love to her until the next century.

I lightly run my fingers over her nipples and she shivers against me. Her moans turn into incoherent words and I flick on her nipples. Twist them as her hips look for some type of release. My hand urgently comes down and under her dress, between her legs. I feel her gushing against my fingers.

"Oh, fuck." I grunt when my fingers easily slip into her warm pussy.

"Ahh-" She arches her back, trying to take my fingers in as deep as they can go.

I twist her nipple with my other hand and pull it back and forth to give her some sweet pain. It works because she starts grinding against my hand and muffles her screams behind her hands. I flutter my fingers in her warm hole and use my thumb to rub against her tight, swollen nub. She cums all over my fingers in a matter of seconds. I keep pumping and let her ride her orgasm until she leans back against me, spent.

I twist her nipple one last time.

She squeals into the night air, completely letting go of all that she has pent up. Her nipples might be sore tomorrow morning but I will make sure to kiss them and make them feel better. She looks up at me and an unknown emotion crosses her eyes. As if the spell is broken, she sits up straight and moves away from me. It is hard to do with my fingers still deep in her pussy but she manages to pull them out and tries to push my hands away when I try to touch her.