Apache Gold
Copyright© 2026 by Sonarflash2026
Chapter 5
Western Sex Story: Chapter 5 - A half-blood Apache, Concho is tossed between two worlds. As a child of seven, he is kidnapped by missionary zealots, taken to the cruelty of a residential school. He escapes, is given refuge by a wealthy Baltimore family, but ultimately, as a teen, gets sent back to the hardship of reservation life. He raids the agency store, taking food for his mother. On a stolen horse, he flees into the White Sands desert, where he discovers a mystery, a woman, and gold.
Caution: This Western Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/Fa Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Paranormal Sharing First Masturbation Oral Sex Petting Pregnancy Violence
The click of metal on rock snapped Concho out of a partial trance. He grabbed up the Winchester. Darting in a crouch, he eased through brush, edging up to the shelving lip. Kneeling behind two ponderosa pines, he blended into surroundings. First, he searched the eastern rim, then the canyon floor. The double click of horseshoes on rock brought his eyes right. First one, then another horse came into view. A lone rider was slumped beneath a rain slicker. The following horse carried an indistinct lump in the saddle. Two loaded mules were trailing further back. Concho didn’t bother bringing up the rifle. Recognition dawned. He knew that horse and sodden, deformed sombrero dangling behind the slicker hood.
“Lily!” he shouted, straightening, stepping out from behind the pines. The horses, mule and rider were bedraggled, wet, splattered with mud and sagging with exhaustion.
Carefully skirting cacti and mesquite, Concho hurried down from the bench. Wading and jumping across the swollen creek, he ran downstream, slowing as her horse nickered and shied. “Lily!”
“Whoa, Chieko,” he called, easing up beside her gelding, grasping the bridle. He passed fingers beneath flaring nostrils. Chieko snuffled and calmed. Concho patted the grimy, wet mane, dropped his rifle and moved to the sagging girl.
Lily swung her leg over the cantle, giving a weak cry as she slid down. He caught her. She seemed boneless and limp. Supporting her, he reached up and pushed back the slicker hood.”You said four or five days?”
Lifting fatigued eyes to him, she gave a wan smile.
“You complainin’?” she said, giving a weak chuckle. “Plans change. I ran into a spot of trouble at the ranch.”
He brought her over to a flat rock and sat her down. After recovering the Winchester, he leaned beside her, then he unfastened her rubberized slicker. Despite the protection, her doeskin jacket was soaked through. “I’ll build up the fire,” he said, unbuttoning and peeling off her jacket. A practical, heavy flannel shirt was equally drenched.
“I’ll make you some tea. Get you into dry clothes before you take a chill.”
She gave him more of a smile. “I’ll survive. I’m tough. Just let me rest. Take care of the horses and mules? That other gelding is Blaze. He’s yours.” She managed a grin at his surprise, then added, “even wrote out a legal bill of sale for you.”
Doing as she said, he stripped off Chieko’s saddle and bridle. He paused, admiring the big Spanish gelding that had been on a lead line behind Chieko. Blaze was carrying supplies. Instead of oilskins, they were wrapped in newer, vulcanized tarpaulins. He removed the load, then laid both saddles on rocks, spreading horse blankets to dry. Finding clumps of winter grass that hadn’t gotten too wet, he wiped down both mounts.
Finally, he unlashed diamond hitches, pulling frames and packs off the mules, leaving both to roll with the horses.
He picked up the rifle, scooping lily into his arms, carrying her up to the bench. When he had her settled between the fire circle and wickiup, he stirred up a blaze.
“Concho,” she said, voice a tired purr. “How sweet. You made us a little house.”
“A wickiup,” he said, heaping more kindling, small sticks and split wood onto the fire. That done, he poured her a mug of strong, hot coffee. While she sat, warming hands around the mug, absorbing morning sunlight, Concho propped open the poncho, ducking at the entrance, digging into supplies she had left with him. He returned with a dry towel. Kneeling beside her, he peeled off the wet jacket before unbuttoning her shirt. As he pulled the wet cloth away from a clinging, sheer camisole, Lily glanced down and murmured, “don’t think I’ve enough energy to make love darlin’.”
He chuckled. “No fear. I’m going to dry you off and wrap you in blankets. You can sleep while I rustle up some hot food, boil water, take care of supplies and the horses.”
Giving him a quick grin, she lifted arms, letting him peel off the camisole. After patting and rubbing her torso dry, he wrapped her shoulders and chest in a dry towel, then a blanket. He tugged off wet riding boots and socks, chaffing feet blanched from a wet chill. She propped cold feet near the circle of hot rocks while he squeezed water from her soaked ponytail, using the damp towel to partially dry her hair. While she warmed her feet, he removed her gun belt, leather chaps and jeans, hesitating at the silken drawers beneath.
“Don’t get bashful now,” she said, teeth chattering as she managed a teasing laugh.
He blushed, puzzling at pink ribbons tied at waist and thighs, pulled on the bows without making knots and eased off her pantalets.
“You said there was trouble?” he said, ducking back into the shelter. She didn’t answer so he arranged one of the blankets. Reaching outside, he scooped her up again, eased her through the opening, settling her on the bed. After pulling on the dry socks she had left with him, he removed the damp towels and pushed her down, wrapping her in both wool blankets. tucking them in tight. He placed hot rocks from the fire circle near her feet and both sides.
“Tell me?” he said gently.
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