Sun-scorched Judgment
Copyright© 2026 by Trace Linden
Chapter 4
Western Sex Story: Chapter 4 - Western adventure mixed with raunchiness marks Mr. Linden’s debut work. It’s 1872, and young Caleb Warner, hoping to become a miner, instead finds himself navigating criminal goings-on while uncovering the needs of the women in the high prairie town of Judgment. Soon enough, he finds himself in a big ol’ heap of trouble.
Caution: This Western Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Fiction Western Polygamy/Polyamory
Right as a roof of thick turf peeked above the waving grass, a powerful gust slapped across Caleb’s back, chilling the sweat. A quick flick of his hand saved the hat from flying, and the mane of his steed, still moving at a good trot, fluttered along the reins. With the world gaining a grayish hue, the prairie, blasted almost flat by the wind, gained a murky dun hue.
A few yards further, more of his destination appeared. Several sod structures surrounded by a mix of fallow fields and green rows swirling in the gusts. Just off the track, the compact homestead perched atop the higher bank of Rock River. Beyond the remote place, the trail dipped before crossing at a ford and running off into the distance on the lower, flatter side.
Despite the absence of trees, or even stumps, some lumber dotted the compound. A narrow porch of planks fronted the main house. Its wooden front door was flanked by wood-framed glass windows.
On one side, surrounded by a scattering of farm equipment and a buckboard, stood another building. Though three walls were solid, the fourth comprised timber braces, framing a row of open stalls. From inside, peeked a spotted nag, splitting its sleepy-eyed attention between him and the oncoming storm.
Beyond, a smaller structure, half-hidden by tall weeds. No windows, and only a small door of rougher planks.
Split rail fencing surrounded the entire compound but had seen better days. A few upper pieces had fallen away to lie amid unkempt nettles, while others were missing altogether. A gap along the track led to a patch of cleared ground crisscrossed by pathways connecting all the buildings.
Once closer, the mystery was solved. Some of the wooden poles holding up the barn and the main home’s veranda had once been part of the fence.
“Mama!”
The woman’s shout yanked his view to motion at the front door. Its source, shadowed by the porch, was indistinct, yet a double-barreled shotgun shaking in her grip was not. Heart thumping and gaze fixed on the twin fountains of potential death, he raised both hands.
“Woah there, ma’am.” With his grip loosened on the reins, the mount sauntered to a halt. “Mean you no harm.”
“Who’re you?”
A second voice, also female, drew his attention to the barn. Just as another chilly blast sent a dusty cloud speeding along the track, a tall, shapely figure stepped from the shadows.
While moving sideways toward the house, she struggled to corral the golden tresses whirling about a lovely face. A pink ribbon whipped around slender fingers. An even stronger gust flattened a long skirt of brown leather against her legs and made a colorful yellow and blue shirt flutter, outlining an impressive bosom.
“Caleb. Caleb Warner,” he answered, clutching the fluttering hat to his skull. “The colonel sent me. Got a letter for the owner of this homestead.”
“Don’t do it, mister!”
The shrill warning from the porch halted his twist to reach into a saddlebag. Again, with both hands high, he settled into the saddle as the second woman joined the first at the house’s entrance.
“A letter, huh? From that bastard.” Hair tied, but still lashing her shoulders, she looked past him. “Where’s Colt? That sumbitch out there, hiding?”
“Uh, no.”
He pivoted to scan the endless waves of grass, now much darker beneath thickened clouds. No place for anyone to hide. Jaw clenched, he turned to find the pair had stepped closer to the porch rail. Though dimmed by the growing overcast, the sun illuminated both.
His breath staggered.
Twins?
Also sporting wavy golden tresses, the one keeping the shotgun on him was slimmer and shorter, but otherwise, they possessed the same stunning features. High-boned, sharp cheeks, firm chins, and wide lips. Although tanned by the sun, paleness peeked as the wind flapped collars.
Plus—his chest tightened—lively, matching eyes. The most vivid light blue, even under the darkening sky. When a stronger burst of moisture-laden air plastered a dress of tiny periwinkles to the gun-wielder’s curves, it took everything to keep his eyebrow from arching.
“Letter?”
The taller one’s voice shifted his focus to her. As he nodded, a further gust, carrying dankness, whipped the prairie flat. While keeping his hand high, he moved it above the saddlebag.
“Yes, ma’am.” He pointed downward. “It’s in here.”
“Show me,” she said before muttering to the shotgun-wielder and adding, “Real slow-like.”
“Um, it’s for the owner.”
“You’re looking at her.”
“Oh, okay.”
After a quick nod, he dipped his hand into the bag and used two fingers to lift out an envelope. Another gust made the paper and his collar flap. He tightened his grip on the message while raising it higher.
As their clothing snapped, whirling gold twinkled around both women’s faces. Neither moved.
Heartbeat racing, he eased from the saddle. With the letter still held high and his other hand holding the horse’s reins straight out at his side, he walked toward them. Given the shotgun barrels tracking every step, his heart thumped louder. The thundering increased further when he got close enough to note more details.
A few crow’s feet dared to impinge on the taller beauty’s face. Her chin sported a faint, slender scar. So, either an older sibling or the other one’s mother. Nah, had to be a sister.
After halting a good distance from the veranda’s timber rail, he leaned forward, holding out the envelope.
The tall sibling dipped quickly to snatch it. As she stepped backward, both sets of ice-filled eyes tracked him. Twin, huge, deep black cannon now aimed at his head.
He gulped. “Uh, I’m supposed to return with a reply.”
A sudden blast of wind hammered him with heavy droplets. While staggering forward, he risked a glance over his shoulder.
Thicker and darker, the clouds were racing closer across the flattened prairie. In the distance, great sheets of gray were angling to the ground, already hidden by a bluish haze. A quick survey showed few options to ride out the storm while awaiting a response.
While pointing to the oncoming tempest, he returned to the taller woman. “Ma’am, may I tie up in the lee of your home? Just until that passes.”
She scoffed, then said something to the shotgun-wielder. They whispered back and forth as more thick drops slapped glossy dents into the dirt. The rear of his shirt began to soak through, letting iciness trickle along his spine.
Both massive, death-dealing barrels dropped away. The taller sister gestured toward the stalls where the nag blinked among the raindrops while continuing to peek at him.
“Get yer mount settled,” she said before nodding at the swift-moving clouds. “That ain’t gonna be a quick one.”
After shoving the letter into the skirt’s waistband, she leaped from the porch and dashed for the makeshift barn.