Chapter 11

The pair of Mormon females I had purchased one year labor contracts on was sharing my hotel room with me and we were a mite crowded but we made do with a second bed over by the window and getting rid of the old sofa with the broken leg that made it almost non-functional.

The younger one was called Clementine and the older one was called Hilda.

I liked Hilda the better of the two women because she was the one who tended to me and brought me back to health in a short two month’s time.

Of course, the young one called Clementine was the romantic one and she was always coming over to my bed hoping I would feel well enough to give her a poke. She was so desperate for loving that she didn’t even care where I poked her, her pussy, her ass or even in her willing mouth that would swallow everything down that I gifted her with no matter how much it might be of my seeds spurting out with forceful bursts of cream that must have numbed her senses with my passion.

Hilda was the prim and proper female of the pair and she was about the cleanest woman I had seen in all my born days. She would read to me from the good book at every opportunity and I found it amusing because I used to do a bit of preaching myself before I got caught up in the terrible health issues that had forced me to move to a less humid environment if I wanted to live any longer.

I hadn’t seen hide or hair of my Kate since she got up and took off for parts unknown about three months ago and maybe it was ordained to be my fate to look after the two Mormon women like they were a pair of wives with equal status.

In any event, we made an odd trio at the Chinese restaurant right next to the saloon and most of the normal couple townspeople gave us a wide berth like we all carried the sins of the world on our backs like the girl in that book with the Scarlet Letter written right on her forehead like a badge of sinfulness.

Right about the time that I felt back to my normal state of health which was a lot worse than the average person, Clementine caused us a bit of trouble with her promiscuous ways in meeting random studs looking for a nice piece of ass willing to follow orders like a good little girl. Clementine was in that category and she didn’t really care what most people thought about her easy ways just as long as she got the dick she needed more than any other prize she could think about.

Clementine was smart enough to know that the men she chased would think her to be a bit of a slut even though she was normal in every other way and she would make a good wife and mother. Still, she continued to act in that manner because she was addicted to the hardness between her legs and her priority was getting the man she wanted no matter how badly he treated her and actually laughed at her behind her back.

I was not amused at the way the bad boys treated Clementine because I knew she was quite a good girl at heart and that she didn’t know any other way to attract the attention she wanted and needed above all else.

Finally, she met a preacher man and a widower to boot that found her absolutely delightful and a pleasure to be with when the sun went below the horizon. He had two small children to look after and she took care of that chore with the gusto of a young woman in love.

Me and Hilda organized a wedding for her and I even bought them a house that could also be used as a church on Sunday with extra chairs and a canvas tarp on top that made the capacity just about right for a small congregation.

When I heard of some of the bad men talking behind Clementine’s back, I settled that real quick with a visit to the saloon with my scatter gun under my elbow and my derringers ready for action if I ran out of shells.

Those fellows were quick to admit the error of their ways and made for the exit and a fast ride out of town.

The Saturday night after the wedding, I was in a high stakes card game down at the saloon and had a great hand that was a sure winner. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my chest and I had to fold my hand just to get some rest flat on my back out in the hallway. Fortunately, Hilda came down from the hotel to roust me up and half carry me up to the bedroom like I was a sack of potatoes. She got the drunken doctor to come up to our room and he pronounced me fit for duty even though I felt like someone had run over me with a horse and buggy.

Hilda nursed me back to health again with her mother’s recipe for chicken soup and I drank it all down despite my preference for a good steak instead. The stuff worked like magic and I was ready to get back to the saloon for another game the next night but Hilda told me I had better stay in the room until we were certain I was cured.