Widows, Whiskey, and Willow Switches
Chapter 2

Copyright© 2019 by Raisa Greywood

Western Sex Story: Chapter 2 - My husband is gone and I need a fresh start. There's homesteads in the Oklahoma Territory free for the taking if I can hold on to it. All I need to do is set my stake and live there for five years. Problem is, a no-account scalawag of a man has his eye on the same claim. And on me. I need to get rid of him, but when we set our stakes at the same time, things get a lot more complicated.

Caution: This Western Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Blackmail   Coercion   Consensual   NonConsensual   Reluctant   Heterosexual   Fiction   Historical   Western   BDSM   DomSub   MaleDom   Humiliation   Rough   Spanking   White Male   White Female   Masturbation   Oral Sex   Slow  

The low boom of a cannon rumbled from Fort Reno, giving him no time to wonder about the woman dressed in man’s clothes. She and that big horse of hers were a bare speck on the horizon before the cannon shot finished echoing. Several men on horseback chased after her, but she’d been ready for the starting gun. He cracked a rueful grin. She was probably looking for something close to the fort for safety, but a lone woman wasn’t going to have any luck holding on to it.

He kicked his horse into a lope, following after her. He had a fair piece to go and there wasn’t any sense wasting time wondering after some fool woman who thought she could hold a claim. He kept going toward his own choice several miles away, slowing only to chuckle over a few squabbles as folks fought over the few parcels close to the fort. He didn’t see the woman in the oilskin duster, or her black horse, and realized she must have already gotten herself run off.

Shaking his head, he chuckled. The silly girl didn’t have the sense God gave a peahen. He hoped she made it back east safely, but he didn’t have time to worry about fool women. His eyes narrowed as he spotted a dust cloud on the road ahead of him. He’d lost time watching the other homesteaders.

Clicking his tongue, he urged his horse into a gallop and soon caught up to the lone rider. To his immense shock, it was the woman who had outdistanced everyone else. Her horse’s easy lope chewed up the ground and she sat it comfortably, her gloved hands light on the reins. Despite the speed she’d used to outdistance the other homesteaders, her horse was fresh as a damned daisy, his neck arched as he mouthed the bit. Hell, he knew experienced cowpokes who couldn’t handle a horse as well.

“Where ya headed?” he asked. His curiosity had gotten him into trouble on more than one occasion, but this woman did things to him. He wanted to see what she looked like.

“A bit further.” Her tone didn’t invite conversation.

“I’ll ride with you for a piece. Mine is just over that hill.”

She stiffened in her saddle, making her horse jig sideways. He caught a glimpse of her stubborn chin as she glared at him from under her hat.

“Damnation! Blast it all to hell!” She hissed at her horse and bent low over his neck, urging the beast into a furious gallop toward the claim they’d both apparently chosen. Grinning, Caleb let his horse have his head and caught up easily. Both animals were tired, but his little mustang was used to running all day without rest.

She barely let her horse slow before she flung herself from the saddle and pressed her stake into the earth.

Unfortunately for her, he was right there with her, and drove his stake into the ground at the same moment. She let out an infuriated scream and he grinned.

“Get your dirty cowherd ass off my land!”

The woman cursed a blue streak and he was torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to turn her over his knee. “The way I see it, it’s our land. We set our stakes at the same time.”

Truthfully, there were many reasons to turn her over his knee. Being out here by herself without a man to protect her, that flying dismount from her horse that nearly stopped his heart, her cursing ... He’d probably come up with a few other reasons before supper.

“If you were a gentleman...”

“If you were a lady, you wouldn’t be out here by yourself.” He jerked her hat off her head, cursing softly in admiration when a mass of curly reddish blonde hair fell into tangles down her back. Her skin was pale as milk and she had the slightest dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Poisonous green eyes fringed with dark lashes glared at him as she snatched her hat away from him. She was going to break a tooth if she didn’t stop clenching her jaw.

“I’m a widow. I believe that precludes the idea of me being a lady, sir.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He took his hat off to pay his respects. He might want her off his land, but he wasn’t so crass as to disrespect her. When she wasn’t cursing him, her voice was low and pleasantly modulated. She sounded like she’d had a stiff belt of whiskey after rolling out of someone’s bed.

“Thank you.” She turned to loosen her horse’s girth and let him loose to graze. “Now, what will it take for you to find another claim?”

Hoofbeats sounded behind them and his hand flew to the Colt in his holster. He spun around to face the threat as he heard the click of a lever behind him. The woman strode forward and stood at his side, a heavy Winchester in her hands. She stroked the barrel like it was an old friend as two riders in Army uniforms rode up.

“You two made a good claim here. I’m Lieutenant Davis Marshall. May I have your names, Mr. and Mrs...” He looked at them, questions in his eyes.

“We are not married, Lieutenant. I don’t know this man.”

“I see.” The officer stroked his moustache and sighed. “May I ask who set the first stake?”

 
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