Winding Creek Pt. 04 - Change

The slow restin' sun in the west were causing shadows to lengthen as Luke finally caught site of the ranch. The long rides n quiet that Luke had missed so dearly in the city, now allowed to much time ta think.

He missed the travelin' with Charles Taylor n the long talks that were shared amongst men that were better educated than he. Experienced men, older men. He'd heard more in once how changes were happenin' too fast. The country growin' to quick.

He missed the Diamond... Not the gals so much. He had Linda Jean for his needs; when she were herself. She ran the ranch. The men listened close n with a smile or took the chance of explainin' them selfs to Lucas, or worse, Smoke Garcia. She n Lucas shared a bond twixt 'em that went further than most husbands n wives. He was sure she knew what he were thinkin' before he did. Sum times he felt the same 'bout her.

N Tiffany, (who were fast becomin' the same gal he knew fore leavin' their home) would sit n listen er chat with 'im and share her day whilst keepin' him advised 'bout Choo-Choo's doin's. Both sisters filled needs. The three were mostly playful amungst themselves, kinda like so many years ago. Problems were settled quick n their home were filled with fun, teasin' n laughter.

Lucas Blake had everythin' he'd ever dreamed of.

Yet, his mind kept wanderin'. He sumtimes wished he had the simple, direct way of J.D.. Hard lines made life easier. But Charles Taylor had open'd up so much more of his mind. Ask... Reason... You could only figure a problem so much, then set ta fixin' it. After that... Work on what were next. One after another, sumtimes two; just keep movin' forward betterin' yourself for you n yours.

He'd begun likiin' the talks he had with Miss Debra n Tiffany n sumtimes Linda Jean durin' the cool evenin's on the porch. Debra Ann had a way of gettin' to whatever in were the easiest way n then sayin' what needed to be said. Her words had gotten fewer since J.D.s passin'... More thoughtful maybe.

Tiffany settled more in the here n now and begun fillin' whatever silences that mite linger with laughter or tellin' of some new occurrence. Linda Jean... She were content. She cared little, if anything, outside the ranch or her family. She'd often excuse herself when talk turnt to the rapid changes in Winding Creek.

Folks commin'... Most stayin'. Miss Debra liked what she seen n offered gentle advice on occasion. Lucas had had talks with Judge Pickett, Bill Nelson, John Stewart, 'Irish' Mike McCarthy n sum of the other locals that their words seemed to matter... 'Bout a small courthouse where the L & L livery were. He'd donate the land. The small house across the street would become the Judges after a little extra were added to it. Pickett could retire from the travelin' circuit n take up permanent livin' in the fast growin' town. Mail n such could be collected on one side of the courthouse n a new land office located on the other. Stability... Law n order... The new Livery would be set north. It were all damn near perfect...

Luke now spent considerable time with the Judge when he were about. Pickett had takin quite a shine to the widow Billings. He'd spend a day er two at the Seasons ranch 'fore he finally 'arrived' in Winding Creek. Gretchen were gettin' a pretty big head 'bout her n the Judge, but heard the Judges words 'bout sayin' to much... At least fer now.

Even with all the goin's on in his fast growin' town, it paled in comparison to the advancements bein' made in the northeast. So much was happenin' in the big cities. Most things he learnt were from the newspapers, some more n three- months-old, that Oscar religiously collected fer 'im. Oscar would sort n press them tight together before sendin' them to Luke. It were either Smoke or the most senior teamster that Oscar'd trust with the one thing that Lucas Blake had asked of 'im since that day so many years ago: When he offered to muck out the stables for a meal...

Even some not so pleasant things were fast comin' too. The north were pushin' industry; the south, plantations n agriculture ruled. So, Luke would try to apply the lesson Charles Taylor often counseled in one way or another; both in the room among men who paid him very well for his advice and in those quieter times, when they'd share deeper thoughts over a cigar n a crystal glass of Lernids...

"You adapt or you die."...

Luke brushed away the growin' cloud of skeeters n set Patch on the last mile er so home. The horse picked up the easy canter he preferred toward the growin' yellow light of two tallow candles burnin'. He saw Linda set in his favored chair, her head moving from side to side followin' the conversation as Tiff n her mother discussed whatever gals spoke about at the end of a day when he wern't about. Miss Debra lingered on the wood bench swing Jim had made fer 'er, her bare feet tucked under her. Choo-Choo fell twice strugglin' to try n walk the eight-foot distance twixt Tiffany n her mother.

"Hello in the house."

Tiffany scooped up Choo-Choo 'fore he tumbled down the steps of the porch in his eagerness to see Lucas. Linda struggled to get out of the chair to greet her well-traveled man n when Luke asked her to stay sat, she actually did. Miss Debra slipped her feet inta rawhide slippers as she rose to greet Lucas. It were Tiffany, her arm around John as he were perched on her hip, that took Lukes reins and offered her cheek 'fore givin' him a hug. Luke looked ta Linda. She smiled that smile n winked. Miss Debra quietly made note.

"How's my wife?"

"Been better Husband."

He looked at Debra Ann and knew the face that said Linda had another bad day.

"Luis sends his best to all n a note fer you Miss Debra."

He thought he saw J.D.s widow cheeks color jist a bit with that news. It were a poorly kept secret amongst family there were more then what met the eye twixt Luis Tee n 'is mother-in-law. Linda Jean had wondered out loud more in once how long after the year of mournin' over J.D. 'fore the grandmother n longtime friend of the family' might tie the knot.

It were Linda that finally asked of Smoke Garcia's where-abouts.

"Luis Tee has sum trouble with a cougar that's decided to call the south canyon home... Lost a second colt night 'fore last. Luis askt that Smoke stay."

Lucas weren't proud of the lie he offered his family. N more disturbin' was how easy it slipped from 'is lips.

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Smoke had finished pullin' the shoes off his gelding, Rojo, n trimmin' the horses hoofs more then four hours ago, far off any trail that mite be traveled. He needed to make sure if anyone might track 'em they'd find little, if anythin'. An unshod horse with cowhide coverin' the hoofs would tell a far different tale from the truth. He'd waited til well after dark to travel the last mile er so. It'd been jerked venison for dinner n no coffee; fire mite be seen. Smoke practiced his lines once more.

"Is bad e'nuff you steal from Mr. Luke. To try n kill 'im."...

The sour faced man wondered why it were so important fer the man to hear those words as he was being sent ta hell, but Luke had askt n Smoke gived him his word.

Lucas Blake had been good to Smoke. He had his own room at the end of the bunk house closest ta the house. He'd been told more n once to pick a spot on whatever land he favored to settle: The Blakes would see he got it. He wasn't sure what he wanted. The freight line were takin' up a lot of time, yet the Spainard didn't favor pushing a plow er ranching either fer that matter. Miss Linda would sumtimes fuss at him to set roots since he was family now.

Family...

Sometimes Smoke would think of his family. Four brothers and three sisters. It were sumthin' that he tried not to think about fer a very long time. Maybe it were time to now.

He'd changed outta his special made boots n slipped into high legged moccasins. The moonless night made the last mile walkin' quick, not havin' to try n hide hisself. The only light were from the stars. It were a bit chilly, the harsh summer slow comin' to an end. He'd hobbled Rojo in a sometimes creek bed that kept him hid n near outta sight.

When the small cabins black outline showed itself, Smoke lowered into a slow movin' crouch. He smelt the years old outhouse n moved a bit further east; Close enough to do what had to be done yet lettin' the occasional breeze carry off some of the putrid stink. He settled in to wait...

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Gretchen Louise Seasons, now the Widow Billings, lay face down, her snow-white body n hips laid over her own cedar hope chest. Horace liked takin' her like this, her hands tied tite with some well-worn hemp rope behind of her back. He liked kissin' the marks it left on her wrists when he slowly untied them after they did whatever he was going to do. He 'specially liked seein' the angst she displayed as she tried to figure out what he might have in mind. He'd lift her face by her hair n study her eyes. Sometimes kissin' her... Sometimes not.

Her breasts were always bared, hangin' free, their red n swollen nipples swayin' with her every move. He explored the young mother's exposed body at will, sometimes asking about her past or what was going though her head as he probed or teased and fondled...

Bent over were a position Gretchen were familiar with.

Matthew liked her bent over like this too, though he never bothered with the rope n knots n such like the Judge did. He'd just slap her on her bottom, wink, n tell her where she were to meet him. Sometimes he was in the mood for lovin'... Mostly not though. The first months after their marriage, she stopped wearin' much of anything under her dresses or skirts n chose to clean up his leavin's right after he finished. With him wantin' n gettin' so often... It were just easier that way. Sides, the sometimes-movin' air helped her often sore n swollen pussy.

Jack too.

He enjoyed it when she'd act all helplessness n whimper as he did what he mostly did... Lapping at her short haired, well-trimmed sex til she rewarded him with her own self from deep inside. Sometimes she helped him finish what they started with her hand when he got flustered n couldn't finish it his self. It been goin' on fer years, though not near as often as it had with her father before he died.

Men jist needed what they needed... Her mother taught her that.

Now, the Judge was jist sittin' n rockin' real slow, studyin' between her open thighs. He held a new crop, it's polished steel handle a few inches longer than the width of his hand n a walnut sized ball on its end. The softly swayin' leather on the other end were braided then intricately knotted every few inches. It ended with several free hangin' ends.

He was sipping the brandy he'd brought on his last trip to Winding Creek as he enjoyed her twitchin' n tryin' to raise up n such. This was all a part of the growin' ritual between the young mother n much older man...

Like tonight. After servin' Horace a very late dinner; the widow Billings had listened to the Judge drone on about the foul weather, lack of kinship from his slow leavin' wife and a man he sentenced to be hanged in a week.

He'd instructed her after clearin' the table to undress, slowly, in front of the low flickerin' light from the stone fireplace. Once nude n standin' with her feet straight under her shoulders, he'd come n slow walk around her. He ran his finger along her spine, adding a little pressure jist above her hips...

"Arch your back a little more..."

Then he kissed the back of her neck before startin' again...

"Chin lower, just slightly above your chest.

Then stoppin' in front of her.

"You look absolutely spell binding Gretchen."

The young woman trembled as he filled his hand with her breast, squeezed the chalk white flesh gently, then bending to taste the trickle of clear milk her dark nipple offered.

"When is Grace coming off the tit?"

"Ain't no hurr..."

His eyes flashed as he looked into hers.

"...T-there's no hurry Horace..."

She collected her thoughts. '...Always be a Lady'... His fingers tighten'd softly again. She enjoyed the gentle tongue circlin' her tender nippled breast. When he finished, he'd straighten' n start askin' things'.

"How many men have seen you like this Gretchen. Naked... Proud... Ready to please?"

She swallowed hard.

"O-only Mathew."

"No one else?"

"M-my sister. Then maybe Tiffany when she lived on the ranch."

A slow smile crossed his weathered n worn face and leerin' eyes.

"Tiffany... A beautiful woman."

Gretchen saw an opening. A chance to water the many seeds she'd planted since she first started servicin' the Judge not too long ago.

"She's not the Lady most everyone thinks she is Horace."

"Ohh?"

He started movin' to the small wardrobe she'd found him n now set next to her own. Opening the door, he chose several lengths of rope that he had her 'whip' the ends with thread and dip them in candle wax so they wouldn't fray. She waited as he returned to her. Lifting her chin, he kissed her gently.

"Turn."

She did as told, her breath quickenin' as he drew her hands behind her back. She felt the folded rope being wrapped several times around her right wrist and then the left. The doubled ends were looped over the middle of her bound hands twice. After finishing with the rope, he kissed the back of her neck.

"What secrets do you hold about your former sister-in-law Gretchen?"

She tried to hide the quickening of her breath.

"S-she has the Devil in her soul Horace. She seduced my Mathew. Many times. She even had Tom with her n her husband Jack."

Judge Horace Pickett whet his lips. He truly enjoyed the favors this woman bestowed on him, thinking she could turn his head about Lucas Blake and his. She was smart in her own right; poorly educated, but pragmatic. She was here for him to enjoy since she had little else she could do. Widowed. Daughter. No means. He ran his hands over her pale bottom, sliding his thumbs between her heart shaped ass and slowly opening it. She kept her pubic hair short; Judge Pickett liked that. This was no whore, bought and paid for er given to him as a gift or reward. He didn't have to think of how many men n of what class had been here before him. He opened the almost exposed, swollen lips, and looked deeply into the slow darkening pink to red center.

"When did all this happen Gretchen."

She shuddered under the touch of his smooth skinned hands n forced a moan when his thumbs slipped inside to open her further. She wanted to please this man. Needed to. He wasn't like any one she'd ever met before. Powerful. Educated. All his Fancy words n ways. He even had several changes of clothes right here in her own home. Yes sir, she was goin' to please this man, moral and religious teachin's be damned.

"A-after someone would add a little laudanum to my tea."

"Your tea?"

"I-I would get lightheaded n fall asleep..."

The Judge gently let the wide-open cheeks of her bottom close.

"And?"

"I-I woke more n once to the sounds of the others. S-sometimes Jack n Tiffany n sometimes with Tom or Mathew too...."

Her tummy tightened as the crop trailed lightly over the pale, exposed skin of her bottom.

"...it were like a dream Horace. T-Tiffany mite be lying on her back, her feet in the air with her legs spread wide n Jack's face held tight to her open p-pussy...."

The old man's jaw tightened. She was learning. His thoughts tried to imagine every detail of the corn silk haired woman nude, her feet slowly rising in the air, offering everything a man might want.

"...sometimes it would be Mathew or Tom with that thing he calls a cock, slippin' in n outta her mouth or sloppy wet sounding pussy. One would hold her hair back as she twisted n groaned twixt the two of 'em, suckin' their cocks, letting them have their way with her."

His fingers started doing what he knew she liked. The crops tail slid from high between shoulders to his growin' whet fingers. She rewarded him with the slow rolling of her hips.

"Did you like that Gretchen."

She did. But it weren't Tiffany with her husband n brother. The Judge figured. Her pussy was whetter than a late-night Saturday whore.

"N-no... It was horrible... The sounds they made... The filthy things they'd say as they used her body... Tellin' her what a good little whore she was..."

Horace Pickett closed his own eyes as Gretchen continued to describe the scene she'd witnessed. How Tiffany would become some wanton hussy, demanding to taken n used n fucked... His cock grew even harder.

"I wonder what Lucas Blake would say if he..."

The sound of the new crop cutting air gave her little warning as it seared the skin of her pale, delicate bottom. She didn't have time to process the first wave of pain before the second flash tore at tightened ass. Her scream rattled both of the windows in the small house. The lash did not slow. Again and again it fell. His hand on her bound wrists pressing hard into the small of her back kept her from struggling free. The tears and her sobbing quickly followed as she fought to catch her breath. Still the crop fell. Biting hard into her flesh. It was a growing pain like no other she'd ever felt.

Then he stopped; released her hands. She slid off the cedar chest, her striped bottom searchin' fer a place to gently settle on the floor. Judge Pinkett saw the beginnings of some thin bruisin' he'd enjoy when it were time.

"You'll learn to keep that man's name out of your mouth unless it's to offer him this pretty little ass of yours! I've said it long enough Gretchen. There are things worse than living poor n if you continue bad mouthing him..."

He lifted her face, the flushed skin wet with tears.

"The kind of pain Lucas Blake dispenses is far worse than the lesson you were just taught."

Her sobs kept rumbling through her as the Judge repositioned her over her hope chest, her face now hangin' nearer the floor. Her thighs were slapped together before she felt his breath on her ass. First one gentle kiss. Then another. He traced the still burning welts that marked her damaged skin with the tip of his tongue. He opened her slow shading, pain filled ass cheeks. She shuddered as the hand-warmed steel of the crop were laid against the weeping folds of her pussy...

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The ladies had laid out a nice, late dinner. Beef were now the more common staple with most always gravy n some potatoes or whatever crop they forced out of the home garden. Fresh bread and sometimes pie dependin' on the season er how much dried fruit were still in the cellar. The family had long since grown tired of chicken, but Lucas liked eggs. He was partial to 'em, always had been.

Wild meat were made available when Tiffany or Linda would ask Smoke... Linda with her hand laid gently on the big man's arm or Tiffany with her now ready smile n teasin' eyes. Luke had near forgotten the pouty lips and askin' eyes that girl were capable of to lure an unsuspectin' man inta whatever scheme she were up to. Luke liked it when the girls ask't' Smoke... m'ybe near as much as Smoke loved 'em doin' it.

The chatter about the table tonight were of Luis Tee n the south ranch n Warrior n the other breedin' stock. The cougar roamin' the canyon were of little interest. Luis n Smoke would cure that problem. The big cat had chosen poorly on the location of his new huntin' grounds. Of that, all were certain n for sure.

Luke noted Linda weren't perticularly interested in none of it this evenin'. Her whole life had always been the ranch n strivin' for that special horse er mule n sum times other critters she took a fancy too.