Chapter 17

Still upset, Bob walked around town for a while, to settle down before going back to his office to go to bed. Along the way, he saw lights in windows, and smelled the odors of cooking. He heard snippets of conversation from open windows or doors. These little domestic scenes made him feel lonely and empty. He felt like a fool for letting a girl almost young enough to be his daughter get under his skin and steal his heart.

Finally, he turned toward his surgery. He was still a hundred yards away when he saw a figure walking through the night, towards him. The moon was half full, and he recognized Boots' hat and buckskin shirt in the silver glow of the moon's light. He started to call out to her, but didn't really feel like company.

He stopped as Boots walked directly to his surgery, opened the front door, and went inside. She thought he was already there, obviously. He wondered what she wanted, and hurried toward his office.

The candle had been lit in his bedroom. What was she doing back there?

"Boots?" he called out. She coughed. "What are you doing, Boots?" he asked.

Her buckskin shirt sailed through the doorway to his bedroom. He took a step closer.

"What the hell are you doing, Boots?" he growled. "I told you I can't do what you want."

Her leather pants flew out of the door and landed on her shirt.

"Dammit, Boots, knock it off!" he groaned. "This has not been a good day, and you aren't helping things at all."

The light of the candle was suddenly snuffed out.

He went to the doorway, stepping on her clothes in the process. He stood there, uncertain.

"Come on, Boots," he said. "You don't want to do this."

"Yes I do," she whispered.

"Go see Dusty," said Bob.

"I can't," she whispered.

Then he heard movement, and she was up and right in front of him. Her hands came to his shirt buttons, and flicked at them, unbuttoning them.

"Please," she whispered.

He knew something was wrong. Something was off. When she kissed him, she gripped his face with both hands and he knew instantly it wasn't Boots. Her hands were much too soft to be those of the scout. His own hands came to her head, where there was too much hair.

But it was the delightful scent of her perfume that made him realize it couldn't possibly be Boots.

He pushed her away and fumbled for the candle and a match. The flare of the match was blinding in the dark and he squinted, touching the flame to the wick. He looked to see Millie, stark naked, standing a foot away from him. As he looked, she went back to his bed and lay down on it. She spread her legs.

"Come to bed, Bob," she said.

"What the hell is going on here?" he gasped. He recognized the medical symptoms of hyperventilation in his own body. His vision narrowed until her face was all he could see. He took deep breaths and willed himself to calm down.

She lay, obviously comfortable being naked in front of him. His eyes strayed to the scar where he had sutured her wound. It was clearly visible, but looked completely healed.

"I want you to make love to me," said Millie.

"I don't understand," moaned Bob. "Where's Boots?"

"She's in my room at the hotel," said Millie. "I couldn't very well leave as myself. People would have noticed. But nobody would think a thing about Boots leaving. So she loaned me her clothes."

"But Dutch," said Bob, helplessly.

"What about him?" asked Millie. Her left hand strayed across her abdomen. Her fingers ruffled her pubic curls. One finger slipped lower, to casually stroke her clitoral mound.

"He said he was going to the room."

"His room," said Millie.

"Not your room?"

"Dutch isn't my type, Bob," she said. "You're my type, Bob. Why do you think I came back?"

"You said it was to do business," he said weakly.

"Yes, that was part of it. But not the main reason I came back. Come to bed, Bob."

"I can't," he groaned.

"Yes you can. We can talk about all of this tomorrow, Bob. Right now I want you to make me a woman. Come to bed, Bob, and make love to me."

"What about your virginity?" he snapped. "Have you lost that while you were gone?"

"No, Bob. My virginity belongs to you."

"But don't you understand I can't take it?" he almost yelled. "We're not married! I can't just take your virginity!"

"Boots said you'd say that," said Millie. "She told me what to do."

"What?" Bob didn't understand.

Her hand moved. Her first and middle fingers formed a spear, aimed at her sex. She eased the tips between her vulva and then, to his astonishment, stabbed them deep into her channel, wincing as she did so. She let out her breath in a whoosh, and he realized she'd been holding it. She pulled her fingers out and held them up to see. They were stained pink with the blood of her ruptured hymen.

"I'm not a virgin any more, Bob," she said, her voice husky. "And I accept your proposal of marriage. Now will you please come to bed ... or do I have to go spend the night with Dutch?"

Her mention of Dutch was what did it. That and his sudden realization that he'd been had by a very clever and very determined young woman. She had known all along what she was going to do. So had Boots. They had conspired over this ambush.

"You're insane," he said softly.

"No. You promised me I wouldn't go insane from masturbating, and that's all I've done since I rode that stupid train away from here. I'm not insane, Bob. I'm horny. Horny for you."

Suddenly, he was iron hard in his pants. Her little yips of "Yes" and "Hurry" as he kicked his boots off and then pushed his pants down, inflamed him.

He was a confused mixture of horny, angry and full of admiration as, naked, he flung himself on top of her. He was angry enough to enter her too roughly, but her whimper of pain wasn't accusative. Rather, it stabbed into his conscience, and he stopped, deep inside her. He kissed her eyes and cheeks, moaning how sorry he was for being a beast. She kissed him back, though, and said "I knew it would hurt."

He held still until her hips started moving, convincing him she had adapted. Then he moved out and back in. Her hiss, this time, was of something other than pain, and he grinned. He had always known she was passionate. Now that this amazing thing was happening ... the thing he had dreamed of so often, and been so completely positive that would never, ever happen ... his own passion was banked.

He planned on making the next half hour one she would never, ever forget.

They lay there, in each other's arms, out of breath and sweating. Bob had rolled to one side, so as not to crush her, but her arms were still around him tightly.

"I ... didn't ... know," she panted.

"Know what?"

"That it ... would be ... like that."

"And, are you ... pleased?"

"No."

"You're not?"

"Not hardly."

"Why not?" His voice sounded injured.

She had regained her breath enough to speak full sentences.

"It wasn't nearly enough. That feels too completely wonderful to have been over that quickly. How do I get it hard again? I want to go again."

He laughed, until she wiggled out from under him and climbed on top of him. She grabbed for his wrists and tried to pin them to the bed. He could have lifted her easily, but let her have her way. He felt something wet on his stomach and lifted his head. His sperm was dripping from her sex, onto his belly.

In that instant, he realized the seriousness of this whole situation. He had bred this woman. She might be pregnant with his child.

"Will you really marry me?" he asked.

She had been trying to put on a mean face, wrinkling up her brow and frowning. Now she relaxed and stared down at him, her face framed by hanging, black hair.

"I'll just die if I can't," she said softly.

"What if Aunt Maureen does not approve?" he asked.

"I told you all the things I learned from her," said Millie. "I didn't tell you what she learned from me."

"And what was that?"

"That I am a wild and headstrong young woman, who will not be pushed around. That money doesn't mean as much to me as happiness. That I can be happy owning only one or two simple dresses ... as long as I have the man I love."

"I thought she was going to sponsor your coming out party," said Bob.

"She can't," said Millie.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not a virgin any more," said Millie, smiling.

Millie was on her knees on the board floor. The bed wasn't big enough for both of them to be on it, in terms of what she was doing, and still be comfortable. She watched her hand slide slowly up and down his stiff penile column. She gazed as she pulled the foreskin off the plum-shaped, purple head. She leaned forward to lick that smooth, purple skin.

"It's hard enough," he gasped.

"I'm having fun," she said, kissing the tip and teasing the little slit in it with the tip of her tongue.

"I thought you wanted it inside you," he panted.

"I do."

"I will happily put it there," he said.

"Boots told me about something else too," she said.

"Oh no," he moaned. "What now?"

She stood and, with athletic ease, stepped up onto the bed and straddled him. She sank down to her knees and reached for his erection, positioning it. She sat down a little too quickly, considering her level of experience, and winced as her under-lubricated pussy accepted the intruder.

"This is unnatural," said Bob.

"Be quiet. I'm a cowgirl, and you're my bull."

"Boots taught you this?"

"She told me about it. It's her favorite way to do it with Dusty."

"Damn," groaned Bob, as she experimentally squeezed the invader with strong, youthful muscles.

She leaned forward, and he actually saw her eyes widen in delight. She rubbed her sex along his belly, or tried to. His penis kept her from being able to move freely. Her moan of ecstasy made him realize what this position must be doing to her clitoral bulge.

"Oh yes," she whined. "Oh Bob, I love you. I want to do this all day, every day."

"If you do, you're going to have a baby within a year," he warned.

"Okay," she sighed.

He watched, fascinated, as she had three hysterical paroxysms in a row. Then, inflamed himself, he rolled her over and thrust into her until he spurted.

An hour later, they did it all over again.

Bob woke, with the fleeting memory of Tilly Sumpter's rooster's morning call in his ears. He smelled Millie immediately, a mixture of sweat, the vestiges of her perfume, perhaps, and raw sex. Her turned his head and got a face full of her hair, which had its own delightful scent.

She moved, muttered and burrowed against him, smacking her lips. He could hear her breathing change, and knew she was awake. Her head moved and her hand came up to brush the hair from her face. The dim morning light coming through the window let him see her eyes.

"Again?" she sighed.

He laughed. "It's morning, woman. We have to get up."

She was able to pout with both her wordless voice and the way she wiggled against him. Then, suddenly, her eyes opened wide and she sat up, her hair flying.

"It's morning? Oh no! I have to get back! Boots is still there! How will she get out? How will I get back in?"

She jumped up and looked for the leather clothes she had borrowed last night, only to throw them on the floor as soon as she could. Bob watched fondly as buckskin covered bare skin. He realized he was hard, both because it was morning, and because of seeing that skin.

"I love you," he said out loud.

She spared him a glance, and a quick smile. "That's good, because you're stuck with me. I only got a one way ticket."

"And Aunt Maureen is really accepting of this?"

"We don't have time to talk about this now, Bob!" she barked. "I have to get back upstairs to my room somehow."

"Keep your pants on," he said, sitting up. "We'll get you there."

She stopped. "I don't want to keep my pants on. I want to be naked. I want to go back to bed. When can we get married? When can I be your wife so I don't have to get dressed any more?"

"You'll still have to get dressed after we're married," laughed Bob. "At least when I have patients."

She was pulling on boots ... boots that had belonged to a man now dead. Obviously she hadn't thought about that in her fervor to complete her ambush. Bob decided not to bring that to her attention. She looked up at him.

"We're not living here, you idiot. I'm going to have a house built for us. A big house."

"Oh really," he said, smiling as he pulled on his own clothes.

"Really," she said. "Aunt Maureen has the list of materials and laborers. She'll get them all on the train as soon as I telegraph her to send them."

"You seem pretty sure I'd agree to all this," said Bob.

"Aunt Maureen said you would."

"I've barely met the woman," said Bob.

"Yes, but I told her all about you ... about us."

"Everything?" Bob's voice was high and astonished.

"Eventually. When she saw how distraught I was without you, she questioned me closely. She was very proud of you for leaving my virginity intact. She said such men are rare. Once she knew I loved you - which she was not happy about in the slightest - she told me I needed to come back here to make my life complete, or I'd end up resenting her for taking me away from you."

"I don't mean to be disrespectful, but that sounds silly to me. If you'd have stayed, you'd have had your pick of men."

"I already did," she said. "We don't have time for this now, Bob! What are we going to do?"

"Put your hair up under the hat, keep the brim low over your face, and follow me."

"How do you work this thing?" she complained, holding up Boots' gunbelt. "She put it on me at the hotel."

Bob fastened it on her, his face inches from her bulging breasts. He leaned forward to kiss one and she slapped his head.

"Have you no manners?"

He laughed, and headed for the door.

"Boots" entered the hotel behind Bob, and then darted left towards the staircase that led upstairs. Bob waved at Harvey, said good morning and asked him where Martin was, all in an attempt to keep Harvey's attention on him. Then he said he was going on into the dining room.

"When Boots and Miss Philby get down here, please extend my invitation to them both to eat breakfast with me."

He was on his second cup of coffee when Boots and Millie arrived. Millie had somehow gotten her hair up in whirls, held with combs, and was wearing a slightly less fancy gown than the day before. Boots' face was stretched by a big grin.

"Hey, doc," she said. "Sleep good?" She laughed. Millie slapped at her with what Bob realized was a folded up fan.

Dutch appeared, dressed to the nines. He bowed to the ladies, including Boots, and seated himself without invitation.

Bob, no longer worried or upset, was happy just to eat. Nobody else seemed eager to talk either, and they all set to the plates they were brought with vigor.

When Dutch was finished, he again wadded up his napkin and threw it on his plate, before turning to address Millie.

"I think we have what we need. If you agree, then it's time to flag down the westbound train and return to Sacramento to get the ball rolling."

"I agree," said Millie, without further comment.

"Will you be returning with me?" he asked, casually.

"No. Please tell my aunt that all is in order here, and I'll be sending further information by wire as to who the agent will be."

"What about the land?" he asked.

"Boots will find that for us," said Millie.

The man, without any further comment, rose and walked out of the dining room.

"Who is he?" asked Bob, able to voice his curiosity at last.

"He works for my aunt," said Millie. "He's sort of a trouble shooter. If she has an operation, or in this case is trying to start an operation, he is her agent if she can't, or doesn't want to be there herself."

"What operation is she starting?" asked Bob.

"Her idea was to buy a ranch and get into the cattle business," said Millie.

"Just like that?" Bob was astonished.

"She hires experts to run her operations."

"So that's why you met with the local ranchers yesterday," he said.

"Yes. We offered to buy out anyone who was willing to sell."

"Just like that."

Millie smiled. "That's pretty much how she does things."

"She must have a lot of money," said Bob.

"She owns her own bank," said Millie.

"And you gave all that up and came back here?" Bob felt weak and light headed.