Chapter 1

I grew up on a ranch in Montana, north of Yellowstone Park. I always liked horses, and it just came naturally for me to help my dad with the chores that a kid could do.

Living out in the middle of nowhere, I spent 4 hours a day on the school bus. I’ve always been a tall, athletic girl. I wore jeans and western shirts, so I got teased a lot. On the bus, they were always calling me a tomboy, which didn’t bother me much.

When I turned 14, I was developing a girl’s figure, and the boys started staring at my growing breasts. I have these big, pointy nipples, and they seem to be hard all the time, so they push out my cowboy shirts, and the dark brown nipples show through the material. The boys pointed, and the girls laughed at me.

I was a late bloomer, so it was a big deal for me when I finally got my period. I was on the bus, and when I got up to get off at my stop, the girls started pointing and giggling. Then the boys started calling me, “bloody butt.” I definitely had to fight down the urge to punch some of them.

I held it together until I trudged up the road to our house. Dad saw I was a mess right away, and he came to give me a big hug. I never thought about dad as anything other than, “dad” before that moment. For some reason, I suddenly noticed what a handsome cowboy my daddy was. I also felt a lot different as he hugged me. I felt all warm, and soft, and most definitely female.

Dad told me to take a hot bath, and to soak my jeans and underwear in cold water, so the blood would wash out. Yes, I thought of it as underwear up to that point. Dad had been thinking ahead, and he had a package of pads for me.

After my bath, I got dressed, and went to help dad make dinner. It was Friday night, and I was feeling sorry for myself. I didn’t have girlfriends because our ranch was so far from town and there weren’t any girls around my age on any of the neighboring ranches. I didn’t have a boyfriend because all the boys seemed so dumb to me.

Maybe the boys knew I didn’t like them, because they made it clear they certainly didn’t like me.

Dad asked me if I was having pain or cramps. I told him I was fine, except that my emotions seemed to be going crazy. He hugged me again, and I started getting funny feelings as my hard nipples rubbed against his chest.

He asked me if I was able to figure out how to use the pads. I said it was pretty easy to follow the instructions on the package. Where did that sarcastic bitch comment come from?

While we were eating supper, dad started telling me about how boys and girls were different, and he showed me a book that had drawings showing the parts of male and female bodies. I’ve had sex ed at school, but I suppose I’m pretty naive. I only know the medical names for body parts, and I’ve never been kissed.

We breed cows and a few horses, so none of it was big news to me, but when dad reminded me that I could get pregnant now, and that I needed to be sure to make good choices, it made me realize I wasn’t a kid anymore.

Early Saturday morning, right after breakfast, daddy told me to put on a dress because we were going to Billings to go shopping. I was a little bit excited, although I was worried about whether my pad would leak, because my boxer underwear didn’t hold the pad close to my body like regular girl’s panties would.

The only dress I owned was really too small for me. It was very tight across my chest, and it made my breasts look big. The dress showed my nipples even more than my western shirts. The skirt was very short too, but I did what daddy told me, and I put it on. I pulled on my dress boots, brushed out my hair, and looked at myself in the mirror. I definitely was not a kid any more.

I’m about 5’ 6” and it seems like I am outgrowing jeans nearly every month. Daddy teases me about playing basketball someday. I am slender in an athletic, not a skinny way, and I think my butt looks pretty good in jeans. My skin is fairly dark, and it looks like I’ve been tanning, even in the middle of winter. In summer, it’s almost bronze. I’ve already talked about my breasts and nipples making my shirt stick out. I thought boys were supposed to like girls with tits, but the boys at school don’t seem to like me, or want to be my boyfriend. They just want to make fun of me and say mean things. That’s probably because my mom was a Native American, and a lot of the white kids at my school are pretty prejudiced.

I have very long, straight, black hair. Sometimes daddy calls me, “Raven Girl,” because my hair is so black. My mom was of the Crow tribe. She died when I was born. My grandpa thought it was my dad’s fault, and he was already mad at daddy for taking his daughter away from her people anyway, so they don’t talk, and I have never met my grandfather.

Dad was only 18, and my mom was 16 when she got pregnant with me. Dad’s thirty-two now, and he is the rodeo cowboy girls dream about. He is six feet, four inches tall, which made saddle broncs tough for him, but he was pretty good, until he got his knee stomped on by a really nasty horse named, “Smokestack,” at the pro finals in Las Vegas. Even after four surgeries, his knee is never going to be right. Dad is thin, but not skinny. His arms and chest are muscular from all the ranch work. He has dirty blond hair that is always messy from his hat or the wind.

I went out to the kitchen, and dad looked me over. His eyes seemed like they were hungry as he looked at me. I felt a tingle between my legs I’d never experienced before. Dad looked as good now as I remember him when he used to ride saddle broncs on the rodeo circuit, back when I was a really little girl. Of course he doesn’t wear fancy shirts any more.

We went out to the pickup, and daddy opened the door for me. I felt myself blush, because I wasn’t too lady like climbing in, and I was pretty sure the skirt of my dress came up and gave daddy a good look at my underwear.

Daddy closed the door and went around to the driver’s side and climbed in. I was surprised because I caught myself looking at the bulge in dad’s jeans as he climbed into the cab. I felt like I was blushing even more, and hoped dad didn’t notice where my eyes were focused. Of course with my dark skin, I doubt if anyone could ever see me blush.