The air shimmered under a relentlessly harsh and beating sun as, from high above, they watched. Theirs was a view unrestricted by hills or clouds as they silently watched and waited, patiently, every so patiently. Beady eyes watched as small dust clouds, raised by the hooves of the tired horse plodding along the desolate landscape of the Arizona desert, hung suspended in the still hot air. They watched and waited for the horse to stumble and fall, spilling it's rider, slumped and swaying, from the saddle. Once that happened they would swoop down from the sky and feed on the unresisting bodies that had so valiantly tried to cross the barren wasteland devoid of life and water. They were the large vultures that would feast on whatever pry that would fall victim to the unforgiving desert.

In the far distance through eyes almost swollen shut under the unrelenting sun the lone rider thought he saw smoke, but he couldn't be sure. The very air around him moved as if it were water, waving and making anything beyond a few feet blurred and indistinct. For more than an hour the rider would lift his weary head and peer into the distance, hoping against hope that is was more than a mirage, a something that wasn't really there. At long last, through squinting swollen eyes, he spied the outline of a roof. His mind slowed by the sun and heat, it took time for it to click in his mind. A roof. That meant a building and people, unless, he grimaced, it was a ghost town. His tongue lick his cracked and dried lips as his voice croaked in his urging of his exhausted mount.

Time passed as horse and rider moved slowly closer. Finally he was able to clearly see more than just a roof. It was a house, single and lonely, but still a house all alone just like him in the wasteland. Smoke curled from the chimney and he knew it meant life, people. Water was what he most craved, then food, but first water to slake his killing thirst. He smiled, his parched lips cracking. He tasted his own blood as he looked down at the water filled trough his horse had stopped at, it's nose buried in the scum coated water and drinking deeply. No longer did he feel the movement under him. No longer did he hear the buzzards overhead as the quiet darkness took him under it's cloak of blackness. He fell from the saddle and lay in a heap on the dusty ground.

Sara had been watching from the dirty glass window, one of the few still remaining in the house. She had, by her best recollection, just passed her eighteenth birthday and this was the first person besides her mother and father she had seen in over two years. She was, at present, alone and very much frightened. Her parents were out gathering what wood they could find to help supplement the buffalo chips that fueled their cook stove and fireplace. She knew they wouldn't return for several more hours owning to the distance that had to be traveled. Getting to town took even longer, almost an entire day it was so far distant. Now she was faced with a problem without anyone to help her. From over the only door she took down the trusty Winchester rifle, checked to make sure there was a shell in the chamber, as cautiously opened the door. Thumbing back the hammer she aimed the loaded rifle at the still form laying next to the trough and slowly moved closer.

The man lay still, his breathing slow and shallow. Sara made no sound as her bare feet moved her closer until she was able to touch him with the barrel. She nudged his quiet form and got no response save that of a small grunt. Still the man didn't move and she became bolder. Women in the desolate frontier had to be bold and daring in order to survive, and Sara had learned well the lessons taught her.

"Hey, you, Mister. Git up," she commanded in her most stern voice. She prodded him with the rifle barrel, but nothing happened. "I said move, you," she said more harshly, but anyone around hearing her voice would laughed. Not because she was being so funny, but her voice was so soft and silky just like her honey blond hair that hung so gracefully down over her shoulders and part way down her back.

The stranger could have sworn he heard a woman's voice, but knew it couldn't be true. The black fog began to lift and the brilliant sunlight blazed through his closed eyelids. He struggled and opened one eye only to see the vision of heaven looking down. It took several seconds before his mind registered the face of an angel gazing upon his filthy dust laden form. He saw hair of gold surrounded by the glowing halo caused by the sun behind her. His attempt at smiling brought pain in his lips as the again cracked and bled. His attempt to raise his head brought nothing more than sever dizziness and threatened to bring back the cloak of blackness he had just returned from. He coughed and spat out the blood from his lips, then again lay still in the dirt and dust.

Sara was frustrated and beginning to become angry. She pushed at him with the rifle forcing his body onto his back. The stranger made no move to resist. Now she started to look more closely at him. He was thin and ragged. While his clothes weren't exactly torn, they were none the less filthy, much in need of repair and washing. The broad brimmed hat he wore fell from his head and she saw his tousled hair, black and sweat shiny. Even through the two week old beard she could see he was young, not much older than she and it looked to be a handsome face. A red bandanna was around his tanned weather beaten neck, the sleeves of his shirt long. He looked thin, almost gaunt. His Levi's were stained from who knew what and the chaps he wore to protect his legs were well worn. Finally she saw his boots, scuffed and well worn, almost to the point of the souls having holes, but not quite.

Dusty felt the coolness caressing his fevered brow. He slowly opened his eyes and again feasted on the heavenly beauty of the angle with the golden hair. A strange scent wafted to his nostrils, that of perfume. He wondered, did angels really use such wonderful scents? His mind began to clear as the coolness on his forehead began to bring him back to the real world. It wasn't an angel he was looking at, but a beautiful young woman as she held his head in her lap and sponged his head with a cool cloth. They were still on the ground next to the watering trough, but that didn't bother him at all, just as long as she kept soothing his brow.

"Welcome back, stranger," Sara almost cooed. "Feelin' better?" she asked.

"Much," he replied finding his lips not so cracked yet still sore. "I'm obliged to you, Ma'am." His voice still croaked the words, but it was soft and gentle. He was still mesmerized by her beauty and now her soft hands.

"I was beginnin' to wonder if you would ever come back from where ever you was," she replied. "Seemed to me like you was done fer. Kinda glad to see you still alive and all." Sara again moistened his lips and was pleased when he sucked the wet cloth, drawing out the moisture.

"Looks like I'm beholden to ya. I don't know how I can repay your kindness, but I'll find a way." Dusty was very old fashioned and never let a debt go unpaid. "Tomorrow you find some chores around that need doin and I'll get right to'm."

"Hush, now," Sara admonished. "You ain't about to do no chores for a few days. Why, you just come through some of the most bad desert around and you're still alive to tell about it. Hey, you ain't runnin' from the law is you?"

"Naw," he chuckled. "I just got lost and went the wrong way. Wow, did I ever go the wrong way. Thought for sure I was a goner, me and my hoss there. How's old Dan doin', anyway?"

"Dan, that's your horse? He's just fine. Got his fill of water and I gave him a double portion of oats. Sure hope my father don't whip me to hard for that. Oats is hard to come by around here and they cost a lot. Got to bring them from town and that's a two day trip."

"Look, I ain't no saddle tramp. I got money and will gladly pay for the oats. Don't worry," he quickly added seeing the look of concern crossing her lovely face. "I come by the money honest. Worked as a cow hand on a ranch 'bout four days from here. Bar-X-Bar. Ever hear of it?"

A shudder of fear raced through Sara's body at the name. Sure, she had heard of it and seen what the owner and men could and would do to whomever crossed them. They ruled most of the country for thousands of miles around and didn't take much to them that wouldn't give them what they wanted.

"Yeah. That's old man Jackson and his hired gunmen. Yeah, I've heard of them. So, you was one of them?" Her silky soft voice suddenly turned hard. She was about to shove his head onto the ground, but decided to wait for his response.

"I can't say I was. Sure, I worked there for 'bout a month, but drew my pay and rode out. Didn't like the way the old man ran things or his people. Witnessed a few shootin's that I think was wrong, but couldn't do nothin' to stop'm. And before you ask, no, I never shot anybody while workin' for him."

Now he was winded, that having been the most he had said at one time since waking up. He took a couple of deep breaths and continued.

"Sure, I've done my share of gun toatin'. Even killed a few, but they was always legal and with lots of witnesses. Even the local sheriff's said they was in self defense. But you don't want to hear all that. Just rest assured I didn't cotton none to old man Jackson and his ways."

"I just knew you couldn't have been all that bad," Sara beamed down at him. Her oddly tanned face took on a new brightness, her deep blues eyes brightened. She breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Look, I don't know if I can lift you up, but we've got to get you out of this sun and heat. Hey," suddenly exclaimed, "I don't even know your name."

"Dusty," he replied.

"You shore are," Sara giggled and gently lay his head on the dirt. She got up and began tugging on his arms trying to lift him up. Dusty did what he could to help, but the cloud of blackness enclosed itself around him and he collapsed.

Voices, dim and subdued, but still voices. The dark fog was beginning to lift and Dusty heard the sounds of two females talking, one quiet and calm the other more forcefully and louder. He felt the softness beneath his back and carefully opened his eyes. His gaze shifted towards the sound of the voices. They were coming from beyond the closed door of the room he was in.

"I'm tellin' you for the last time, Sara, keep away from him. Why you have to take to any stray creature that comes around is beyond me."

"Ah, Ma," he heard Sara complain. "He was hurt and I didn't go lookin' fer him. You saw his horse in the barn. That should prove he came on his own."

"Just the same, you keep yer distance. Lucky your Pa didn't see with your hands all over him."

"I was just tryin' to get him up and in the barn," Sara complained.

"Well, maybe so, but I'm warnin' you, keep your distance from him. Now hush and go do yer chores while I tend to him."

The door opened and Dusty saw an older woman enter the dim room. As she came closer he saw she looked to be in her early fifties, but knowing how things were in the desert figured her to be more to be in her latter forties. The hair on her head was pulled up high and tight helping to keep her cool in the oppressive heat. Her blouse and skirt were simple and without any of the frills the town women wore. She moved closer and Dusty was able to better see her.

"Welcome back, stranger," she said as softly as her deep husky voice would allow. "My daughter Sara says your name is Dusty. I'm Molly," she smiled, the wrinkles around her mouth deepening. She picked up a cloth from the bowl of water and squeezed out the excess. The cool cloth was laid gently on his still fevered brow as she bent over to tend him.

She smelled clean and of soap as Dusty really got his first good look at her. Her face was deeply tanned from years of scorching sun and weathered from the hot winds that blew almost constantly. As Molly bent over further the front of her blouse fell open and his eyes automatically shifted downward from her face. Even in the dimness of the room Dusty could see exactly where the tanning of her skin started and stopped. The contrast was amazing. The ample cleavage of her bosom was almost a brilliant white below where the darkness of her tanned skin stopped. If he didn't know better, he could have sworn she had loosened a couple of buttons on her blouse and was wanting him to see the tops of her expansive breasts.

"I'm much obliged to you and your daughter, Ma'am. It's more than kind of you to take me in and all. Like I told your daughter, set out some chores tomorrow and I'll tend to'em. I'll not be beholden' to nobody fer my keep." Dusty moved his right arm from under the covers and found it bare.

"Oh, yes, well yer clothes were so filthy I had to remove them. Sara washed'em and there hangin' on the line in back." Molly blushed slightly as her words much to her surprise.

"All my clothes?" he asked lifting the covers and looking down.

"Yup, all," she replied. "Don't you worry none, young man. I'm old enough to be your Ma, but shore glad I ain't. Now hush up and get some sleep. Yer plum tuckered out and need rest. We'll talk more tomorrow."

As much as he wanted her to stay, fatigue took it's toll and he quickly drifted off into a deep restful sleep.

The early morning sun shone brightly through the window lighting the room. Dusty woke slowly and just as slowly opened his eyes. He felt refreshed and rested as he stretched his arms and legs. The sheets felt cool and good on his skin. That's when he remembered being naked. There was a soft knock at the door and then it opened and he pulled the sheets up to cover his chest.

"Well, good to see you awake and lookin' like you'll live," Molly commented as she came in and closed the door behind her. She was carrying a tray and something smelled real good. "Brought you some breakfast. You gotta eat."

She was wearing a thread bare robe tied snugly at her almost narrow waist. Her hair wasn't put up on her head yet and the flaming red locks cascaded down her back and over her shoulders falling over the front of her bosom. When Molly bent over to place the tray in Dusty's lap the front of her robe parted just enough for the bright sunlight to shine partly inside. With clear eyes and mind he was better able to see where the dark tan stopped and her lily white untanned skin began. There was no dimness to hide the fact that this woman had a very large pair of breasts and that wasn't something he found to be less than what he liked.

Molly had left him alone to eat. After awhile she returned still wearing the worn robe. As she bent to pick up the tray the front halves parted even more than before allowing him a much better look at her massive cleavage and most of the tops of her bosom. An instant stirring took place in his loins as she stood up. He was just slow enough placing his hands over his sheet covered crotch that the growing lump beneath them was becoming apparent.

"Yer clothes are clean and on the chair by the door," she casually said seemingly not noticing his sudden arousal as she turned and again left him alone. Once outside the room Molly leaned against the wall and gasped as the sexual tingling raced pell-mell through her entire body.

Dusty got up and dressed. His clothes smelled clean and fresh from hanging out in the cool night air, but now it was getting warmer as it always did in the desert and it was not yet six in the morning. He left the room and went to the kitchen where he found Molly washing dishes and a man sitting at the table. Sara was nowhere to be found.

"There you are. I want you to meet Ben, my husband. Ben, this is Dusty."

"Howdy young man," the older Ben greeted him getting up and extending his hand. "Glad to see you lookin' better than yesterday. Shore gave us a scare, you did."

Dusty took his harsh work roughened hand in his and they shook.

"Mornin', Sir," he said. "Mighty proud to make your acquaintance and glad fer all you've been doin' fer me and my hoss, Dan."

"Shucks, youngin', twern't nothin', nothin' at all. Can't let a man die of thirst in this country. Nope, we got to stick together and help each other. And while yer at it, call be Ben."

"Yes, Sir, uh, Ben. Sorry, but my pa brought me up to respect my elders and be polite."

"Nuff said. Now you come with me and I'll show you around. 'Spect you'll be stayin' awhile so might as well get a lay of the place. Gotta a couple of things need doin' right now anyway."

Dusty guessed the man to be in his fifties yet still he stood tall and proud. He wasn't a small man by any stretch of the imagination standing well over six feet tall with broad shoulders and strong looking arms. From what he saw left of the breakfast it was obvious Molly fed him well, but there seemed to be not an ounce of fat anywhere on him. His belly was a flat as any board and, he figured, just as hard. Ben didn't move fast but with his long strides and Dusty had to hustle to keep up with him.

"As you can see got me a couple real nice mules. We done a lot of plowin' in the last couple of years," Ben waved his hand towards the stalls in the big barn. "Flopsy and Mopsy I calls them. Good a pair you'll find West of the Mississippi," he continued proudly. He went to the big stack of hay and started to pull down a bail when it suddenly fell and brought two more with it. Ben fell to the dirt floor the bails landing on top of him. Dusty quickly moved in and started tossing the heavy bundles to one side.

"Ben, Ben, you alright?" Dusty panted from the excursion.

"Say there young fella. Yer stronger than you look. Them bails go more'n eighty pounds each and you just tossed'em like they was kindlin' wood. Bet you can more than hold yer own when yer feelin' up to snuff," the old man said with thanks and admiration.

They went in back and checked on the hogs making sure they had plenty of slop and water. Sara was in the chicken coop gathering eggs when they spotted her. She smiled, but couldn't wave unless she let go of her apron and loose all the eggs.

Ben and Dusty spent the rest of the day wondering around the place. Ben showed him where the fields were and the crops growing. The was hay, corn and other assorted vegetables they hoped to take to town for market.

"Got me about fifteen or twenty head of cattle up yonder," Ben said swinging his arm in a very general direction, "but I ain't got much idea just where they is. Sara says you used to work for old man Jackson."

"Yeah, but only 'bout a month," Dusty replied suddenly worried. "I just couldn't cotton to his ways."

"Don't worry none, Dusty. Sara already told me about it and I ain't got no call to hold it agin ya."

Almost before they knew it the day was rapidly coming to an end. The sun was beginning to set and Molly was clanging the supper bell. Both men washed up and sat down to a heavily laden table. Dusty couldn't remember the last time he had seen so much food at one time and suddenly found himself famished. Twice he filled his plate high with chicken, corn on the cob, mashed spuds and gravy. Three times he filled his glass with the warm fresh milk from the one cow they had and eyed what was left, but decided it would be impolite to take it. Molly was the one to drain the pitcher into his cup as she smiled and gave him a silent yet obvious wink of her eye. After supper the girls cleaned up the kitchen while Ben and Dusty sat on the large front porch smoking. Ben, his corn cob pipe and Dusty his hand rolled cigarettes. The night was inky black with only the stars glowing in the high sky. The moon wasn't due to rise for three more hours and it would be full and bright. The hot desert air finally cooled and the soft breeze felt good as it helped the two men relax. It was time for bed and Dusty started to head for the barn. He had talked with Ben earlier and flatly stated he couldn't take up Sara's room since he was feeling so much better. He was grateful for the one night, but would feel much more comfortable sleeping on a pile of sweet smelling hay.

It was well passed midnight and the moon was high in the night sky, full and bright. Dusty was sleeping peacefully in the barn, the sweet fresh hay his soft bed. He dreamed of nothing as he lay snoring lightly. Sudden something woke him. His body didn't move, but his eyes slowly opened and moved to look around. Somebody was in the barn, somebody he heard moving very softly over the dirt floor. He wished desperately his gun was under the straw he used for a pillow, but Ben had convinced him there was no need. His body tensed as the stranger came closer, then he uncoiled himself and sprang into action. Who ever had come so close was caught completely by surprise as he knocked them down and quickly straddled his legs over the body. He cocked back his arm, his hand made into a fist read to strike when the voice made him freeze.

"My, my, Dusty. Not only are you young and good looking, but it seems to me you be an animal as well."

It was Molly. She was the stranger creeping about in the barn. Dusty relaxed enough to move to the side and let her up.

"I, I'm sorry, Molly. I heard a noise and it woke me. If I had known it was you I wouldn't have knocked you down."

"Think nothin' of it," she said standing to brush herself off. She looked down at the young man as he reclined on the pile of hay. "I shouldn't have been sneaking up on you like that. Mercy, will you just look at me. I must look a fright," she said as the fullness of the moonlight shown on her. The thread bare robe she wore was hanging crooked, the tie in the middle almost undone and the top halves barely covering her massive bosom.

Dusty lay watching, his eyes growing wide at the sight of her. She made no attempt to straighten her robe nor close up the top. Instead she knelt beside him her soft hand brushing some of the hay from his bare chest. He had taken off his shirt for comfort and let the blanket beneath him keep the hay from scratching his skin.

"You are rather thin," she continued now rubbing him, her fingers combing the sparse hair on his chest. "But I can feel you are strong. Ben told me how you handled the bails of hay this morning and how you had a strength that doesn't show."