Out West Ch. 09: Martha's Apotheosis

One thing about writing a memoir such as this is that it not only makes the past present again, it reminds one of how fragile what we call "history" is. Seeing oneself through the eyes of another is an interesting, if not altogether comfortable, experience.

Martha's adoration of Emma was clear, even at the time, what was puzzling then is a mystery solved by the Journal. After fretting about the way in which the relationship between the four of us had begun to fray, I had realised that Martha loved Emma so much that she was willing to let her go in order that she could find a man to love her and give her the children she wanted. Once that breakthrough had occurred, it allowed for us to begin to adjust what had been to what was, and to prepare for what might yet be. The future is unknowable and the way of the heart are mysterious. For women like me, who love only other women and have no longing for motherhood, it is hard to fully appreciate the divided mind suffered by our sisters who want children and therefore need a man. The history will say that Emma left Martha to marry; that "history" is at best a crude approximation which misses out most of what mattered to the people involved. I wonder how much of what passes for "history" in the books is similarly marred?

Emma loved Martha. In some ways I think she desired her even more when she was "Jacob". It was as though all her sexual desires, which were for men as well as women, were fulfilled in Martha as Jacob. It was such a relief when she and Kate came together in their joint love for Martha after that memorable day. It was as though, in completing the circle, more love had been generated - and wounds began to heal.

How complex are Love's ways, and byways. We act as though we are all binary - men want women and women want men, but how narrow a view of the human condition that is. As well as women like Kate and Emma who want other women and men, there are women like myself who want only other women. I have known men who wanted other men and regarded women as superfluous. Indeed some of these men have found me attractive for precisely the reason most men don't - I look like a boy, as long as I have my drawers on. None of this appears in our "histories" and yet, as the tale I tell here shows, it was part and parcel of it. Perhaps one day it will be rescued from the vast condescension of posterity?

In a drama where men are men and women are women, women like me (and men who share a taste for their own sex) will fade into the background. But we are there. We always were. We always shall be.

Putting that part of the story in, is one of the things to be done as we trace that pilgrimage West in Martha's Journal, which takes up the story as we left the City of Kansas.

[Martha's Journal]

"I have never been so glad to get off to a town as I was this morning," I said as we moved toward the gangway.

"Now Jacob, it was a lovely trip, except for all the excitement last night," Emma giggled. The relief of our love-making had given me one of those moments of which memories are made. That tension which had begun to mess with our heads was gone. Emma said Pixie had worked her magic, well that little 'un was a witchlet, there's no doubt 'bout that.

We set off, the womenfolk carrying just their bags. The young farmer was taking everything else. He was at our door first thing, asking to help. I knew them girls were going to bat their eyes and get him to do it, so I said yes. I had already given him enough money to buy his farm; he was outside our room as soon as we stepped out.

"Mister Anders..." His voice caught in his throat when he saw my face.

"What can I do for you, son?" My tone gave away a little of my frustration with his intrusion.

"I... I... just wanted to thank you again. Can I help you and your family with your bag?" His stuttering showed how nervous he was. "You gave me...."

"Shush boy, I gave you nothin'" My voice was firm; I pulled him into our room. "You want to end up face down in the river?"

"No, sir... I.... My name..." He started, but I was having none of it.

"I don't want to know your name, son; I want you to go back downriver, go buy your farm, marry that girl, raise a parcel of children, grow old and die and never think of what I done."

I fixed him with my eyes hard; my hand was on his shoulder, the blood was pulsing on my hand.

"Do you understand me?"

"Why?" He looked perplexed.

"Son, there might be people who might not take kindly to what I done, and fewer who would think it good to start a life bought with blood money."

I responded with a look which, by the expression on his face, he finally understood; he nodded.

"Good, now go next door and see if my daughters need a hand." I figured they would not carry their bags, and if it made the lad happier to do me a service, then that was all circles squared.

We were soon on our way to the docks with our young volunteer porter in tow. We were on land again pretty soon, and it was all I could do not to drop to my knees and kiss it!

"Thank you, kindly son, now get back on that boat and get back to where you were headed, and don't look back or leave again."

I shook his hand; Kate and Emma, kissed his cheek and wished him well; Pixie did only the latter. You never could get that girl to touch a man. Reckon she was a woman's girl and always would be. Well, she sure attracted enough of us who started by wantin' to mother her and ended by wantin' to do somethin' else with her; deep she was. We watched him head back on board, but stopped by that skinny guy with the glasses, who had been pestering me about the incident.

"Come on before that pest takes back up bothering me," I said as I picked up the luggage and we headed for the boarding house.

We found the house, it was much less grand than Cotes House, but we expected that. My only hope was that we did not leave its walls with any more livestock than when we arrived. Emma had said it was a concern, so she brought a couple of pots of powdered sulfur to smoke out our clothes. But Kate just waved us off, saying Elizabeth had highly recommended it saying we would feel comfortable.

But we were pleasantly surprised. Not only was it clean, it had been fumigated just a week before. The problem was there was only one room and four of us; I put up a little fuss but not much.

Again, giving the proprietor enough to buy a tub and hot water, I set out to find us transportation out to the western gold fields. A smile crossed my face as I listened to the girls playing in the water again. I wished I could join them. I was getting more in need than I wanted to let on; my quim was starting to leak just listening to them play. Their joy was infectious, and I was happy for them. But 'tarnation, there were times it was hard playin' Guardian Angel.

"I need to get moving, or I won't get anything done," I laughed to myself as I pushed myself away from the door. At least on the boat, there had been two rooms; here, there was nowhere to go.

However, I was pleasantly surprised to find the local livery, and spoke with the proprietor, who informed me that a wagon train of supplies was expected to head out to gold country within the week. He advised me to seek the head office across town for space, or else purchase horses if need be, although horses were costly due to price increases associated with the miner's needs and supply and demand being what it was.

It was a short walk to the barn they called an office. Outside I could see a half dozen wagons all loaded awaiting teams. A couple looked brand new. There was a sign sayin' they were looking for drivers and guns to protect them.

I knew I could ride well enough; I knew Emma could ride but only for a couple hours, not days on end. I had my doubts about Kate and Pixie; well, there was no way she had any riding experience. I needed a wagon.

The main office of the shipping company was indeed as far from our rooms as was possible. But the owner was more than friendly when he saw gold was involved, less so when I told him what I wanted. Then, however, his mood changed when he saw my matched set of Colt revolvers.

"You know how to use those, or do they just keep them for decorations?" He asked, nodding to my belt.

"Why you askin'?" I responded cool like.

"Ya willin' to show me, Missouri man?" He responded and headed out the back to an empty corral. I followed.

Jacob once told me, "A man isn't known for what he says, but what he does." So I stepped out into the sun.

I watched him rummage through his rubbish pile; it stank horribly, almost as bad as he did. He took an arm full of cans to a fence which backed onto the plains, and he lined them up on it. Then he marked off ten paces told me to come to his line.

"Hit off all six, and you have a job." He said as he walked back beside me.

When he was just turned, I walked back ten more paces and stood. He looked shocked, then followed me when he got there; I pulled my left pistol and drew. Six cans flew; the three were still in the air when I holstered.

Jacob and I had no young 'uns and good farmhands, and we had time to play. We would always make love, but sometimes one needs a change of pace. Jacob had regular business away from our farm and knew I might someday need to defend myself, so we practiced regularly, and we often played this same game many a time. He was a better shot than me and could hit a silver dollar in the air; I could too -- occasionally. Doing this here reminded me of better times.

"Son of a bitch" was all he said. He looked at me, and his face went pale. "I see you are a man who has had to use it... you wouldn't be Jack Anders, would you?" His voice had more than a bit of quiver to it.

"Why do you ask?" Then, wondering where that name came from, he rushed back into the building, and I followed.

"This came out just this afternoon; it is a special edition!" He showed me a thin paper, not more than a few pages, but on the front page:

'Pierre Courier -- Special Edition

This week this reporter witnesses an act of bravery unmatched in the annals of frontier justice. A single man, Jack Anders, took on and killed five armed men. Those men, who later proved to be thieves and card cheats, were dispatched by him alone. Mr. Anders did not draw his pistol first, but he drew first blood....'

The story went on about Jack, his wife Katie, and their daughters Emma and Petunia.

It only got worse and more sensationalized, goin' on about the gunfight on a riverboat where a group of thieves and card cheats were done to death for their crimes. "Jack" had killed five armed men in a fair gunfight. None had cleared leather, all shot dead with a single shot to the head. He killed so fast that it sounded like a single shot. This reporter claimed he saw it all, including the disposing of the culprit's bodies and the return of ill-gotten gains to those injured by their cheating. The story went on, but I had read enough. Fella seemed to think I was Robin Hood 'the West - flim-flam and gibberish!

"I need two good horses, new tack, and a wagon and team all equipped," I said, and he nodded.

"I will keep the horses and tack as pay, we can take your cargo, and you can keep your wagon, but it has to be a new schooner loaded with room for two bodies. A team of good horses, nothing new, you understand me? If one of mine even gets a shiner due to a team of green horses, I will come back here, and you and I will have a talk, you understand?"

He did not answer, just swallowed hard and nodded.

"Good, I will check back tomorrow to see the horses, both the riding and the wagon team. We leave in two days, correct?" I asked, and he nodded.

"Good," I turned and walked out.

I did not correct the misperception of my name.

I walked back to the rooms and stood outside the doors; the girls were still enjoying their time. Just my luck these days, an attractive older woman, a few years older than I, stuck her head out to see what was going on. Her face showed her displeasure.

"Excuse me, sir," she started, then stopped. "Pardon me; I am terribly sorry. You are with them, I believe?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I responded, "I am sorry they bothered you; they are young and get carried away sometimes. It is our first trip so far from home. You understand?"

It was a challenge to keep a straight face as I heard the distinct sound of a headboard banging into a wall and the cries of orgasm from either Kate or Emma; I was not sure which, but the other was urgin' her on with all manner of foul names.

It must have been a comic sight, us standing there trying to hold a neighborly conversation while a woman is screamin' her fool head off, and another is callin' out all kinds of names from whore to worse, as skin was slappin' slapped against skin.

"Lord o' mercy, girls, will you hush up," I whispered as my eyes rolled and my sweat beaded and must have turned four shades of scarlet.

"Anders's ma'am, Jack Anders...." I responded I don't rightly know why, just the first name that popped into my lust-addled state.

She was taken back a bit but recovered her decorum as she walked past me; she kissed my cheek, she walked past giggling as Emma screamed Kate's name with all manner of curses. I was shaking now, both with my frustration and embarrassment.

"Mr. Anders, a word of advice." She turned and gave me a friendly smile, "First, men don't use rose petal soap, and second," As she took the first step down the stairs, "they don't smell like quim unless they smell of seed." Then she was gone, and I began to breathe again; I had not realized I had stopped.

I opened the door to a scene of utter debauchery; it was beautiful.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Emma shouted as she rode a phallus that stuck up from Kate's pelvis, well I assumed it was Kate's as the head of the woman on the bottom was presently obscured by the thighs of little Pixie who had her head thrown back, her long curly black hair was cascading down her back. I stepped in and closed and locked the door.

"Why didn't you lock the damned door?" I loudly whispered as I took off my jacket and started removing my clothes; I would get my own or shoot someone, most likely myself.

Pixie turned toward me, opening her eyes with a languid expression of pure joy and relaxed lust.

"Because we wanted you to come in, and we hoped someone might look in." Pixie giggled in a naughty sort of way, her fingers near her mouth, then her thumb in it; it was so naughty to watch her as she rode up and down and grinding her pussy on the red-headed woman below.

"Oooo goodness that I idea of someone watching..." Emma drove herself down hard onto the tool in her womanhood and simply put... screamed.

I rolled my eyes as I began to unbutton my shirt, soon my breasts would be free, and I was so in need I needed to have my quim touched by someone besides myself.

I watched as Emma moved up and down the shaft, her body obscured only by the thin cotton of her underclothes, her breasts encased by the sweat painting the material to her skin. Sharp peaks and deep ruby red marked her nipples. I wanted them in my mouth right then. The look of love in her eyes she gave me melted me and made my pussy soaking.

"Martha, please come lay with me; I have missed you so much."

She held out her hand to me while riding the prick in her box, the perfect portrait of womanly desire. How could I resist?

I nearly tore my remaining clothing from my body so quickly I was nude, and with the woman I love more than anything in this life, my love for her rivalled my love for Jacob.

I suckled and sank my teeth into her turgid nipples right through the fabric; she threw her head back and moaned as guttural as I had ever heard. Then, finally, she pushed her rock-hard teat into my mouth and held my head in her hands, pulling me closer.

"I have missed you so much," I felt the tears on the back of my head as her voice broke.

"Shh, Emma, you will always be my girl, no matter what tomorrow brings."

I kissed her tears away, then kissed her lips. She drove her tongue into my mouth; her breath was always so sweet; I hoped mine was as well.

"I will always love you!" She breathed into my mouth.

She did not miss a stroke as Kate drove into her. I wanted to feel her desire, so I reached down to their joined bodies, running the tip of my finger along the stretched lips of her pussy, stroking and caressing them. I moved the finger to find her nub and started stroking it, gently at first, then with more urgency as she moaned and shivered from head to toe.

It was beautiful to feel her need grow and know that my touch had thrilled her. I worked the spot, the hard little place that every woman knows, that sends out bodies to clenching spasms, that drives our desires.

Emma's body shook and jerked, shivered and moved with each thrust from Kate, and kiss and a touch of mine, Emma worked herself to release, and I worked to give her pleasure. My hands found her breasts as her hands moved for mine. Our kisses and hands welded us together, and her tears wetted my face as we loved.

As quickly as I began, I felt Emma arch her back and scream into my mouth; I kissed her, pulling her hard nipples and stroking her clit. Again, she shrieked and squealed her passion into my mouth.

The thrill of giving her pleasure was beyond any joy I have ever known, then or since. It shamed me, and perhaps it was the passage of time, but even my joy with Jacob could not compare to the pure physical pleasure I had learned to gain with Emma. Now my body thrilled to touching her, almost as much as my body thrilled to her touch of me. It was a pleasure beyond any pleasure I had ever known, and it never grew ordinary.

So caught up in Emma's pleasure was I that I had not noticed Pixie had found her own; she was silent in her climax. Her beautiful face never twisted in her release but showed a liberation from the stress build as she climbed to find her pleasure. Pixie's lovely face showed no pain or distress but pure pleasure and joy in her sex.

Emma's trembling calmed and breathing steadied; she gave me a satisfied smile.

"My darling, you have not had any loving for days; please come be with us, with me." Then, as she lifted from the phallus, she had been riding. Pixie left Kate as well, who moved from the bed.

Six hands guided me to a stool where cloth, soap, and a soft brush, washed away more than the dust and dirt of my travels; they washed away the pain and discomfort of my efforts and work; it seemed to wash away the sin of my actions. I started to object to all this fuss.

"Hush now, darling, let us do this for you," Emma leaned in, and our lips brushed lightly, "please?"

I watched as Kate unbuckled her harness and handed it to Emma, then she lay herself down on my left.

"Martha, let her make love to you while we show you how much we love you."

So saying, her lips took mine. I kissed, but my eyes were on Pixie as she helped Emma with the harness. Then she moved to my right side and lay her lovely slim petite body down, and began her assault on my lips.

So there I was, Kate kissin' me on the left, Pixie kissin' on the right, and my beloved wearing a harness with a lovely looking member moving up between my sticks. So what is a girl to do! That is right, I just lay back and enjoyed it; after all, this is a democracy, and I would have been outvoted three to one, assuming any of us was allowed to vote, which we weren't.

Emma urged me to give her access, I felt my legs separate, and my pelvis tilt, the cool air on my already soaking pussy was exhilarating. I wouldn't say I was in heaven, but heaven was on its way.

Emma ran her nails down my belly, then over my mound, then through my pubs to my sex. I was near to exploding from the joy of it. Then Pixie latched onto my nipple and started working it as if she were starving. Kate was busy with her hands kneading the breast left to her as her tongue was trying to lasso mine. I returned the kisses reveling in the attention I was gettin'. I felt Emma kissing around my mound and eventually her hot breath down below; I could feel my juices working their way down my bottom crack. They tickled and excited me, but soon they had no escape route as Emma sought their source and stemmed their travels save to her lips. I was the sultan of my little harem, and I was enjoying it.