Chapter 1

The saddle and the other gear was getting mite heavy now but Luke could see the twin streaks of silver shimmering in the heat waves rising from the desert floor. He would be at the railhead in less than an hour even at his slow pace. His right hip was starting to trouble him where he had taken a slug last summer in the sheepherder fracas down in Cochise County. He mentally said a silent thank you, God to the heavens above and hoped they wasn't watching him none to close because he was inclined to go off the straight and narrow a shade too much these days. Luke was glad he was able to make it to the railroad line without having to abandon his cherished Mexican leather saddle that he had special ordered down South of the Border near Chihuahua. It was none too soon in his opinion because the last of his water was fast running out.

Way off in the distance, he could see the smoke rising from the westbound train. It was right on schedule and that was unusual in these uncertain times. Even though there was no station here at the crossing with the dirt road that ran all the way back up into the foothills, he knew the train would be sure to stop because the water tank was a required stop. The water was pumped up regular by the pair of Chinese oldsters hired to keep it filled at all times.

They saw Luke resting on his handsome saddle in the shade of the tank and gave no indication that they were in the least bit inquisitive about his presence.

Luke refilled his water bottles and took a slow swig of the sweet-tasting stuff. It was a miracle how good water tasted when you were thirsty. On the other hand, whenever he came anywhere near a saloon, water was the last thing he wanted to answer his need for liquid refreshment.

The train hissed to a shuddering stop and the Chinese workers got busy.

Luke threw his gear up into the mail-car and jumped on board the train. The security guard recognized him as the long-standing senior marshal in Indian Territory and made no inquiry as to his riding the train for no charge. He tucked his saddle down under the stacks of mail sacks and took a swig from the bottle of premium rye offered by the elderly mail clerk. It was raw stuff probably made by some enterprising yahoos right out here in Indian Territory and not from some fancy factory back East.

He moved back into the passenger car and saw that the seats were only half-filled with people. The conductor looked his way and spied the badge on his belt nodding his head and affecting disinterest in his business. The other passengers, mostly not as observant, just gave him a cursory glance and figured him to be another cowpoke down on his luck and minus a steady mount or employment.

Directly across from him was a female dressed like a visitor from the East with a measured distain for all around her including the dirty, dusty cowpoke far too close for comfort. He doffed his hat to her showing respect but she studiously ignored him as beneath her concern.

They left the water tower and had progress only a couple of miles when the train jolted to a sudden stop. The young woman was dislodged from her seat and wound up perched on his lap in a fair degree of disarray. He reached down and steadied her but his hand unfortunately rested squarely on her swelling bosom that was heaving with some consternation at his effrontery. She squirmed on his lap causing an immediate erection and making the poor woman blush with humiliation at his familiarity.

She returned to her seat but glared at Luke with some level of animosity because she had been handled so cavalierly by his hands and his cock.

After some minutes, the girl realized she was being unfair and with a perfectly modulated voice addressed Luke.

"My pardon, sir, I see you are a gentleman and not taking advantage of me. My name is Penelope Winthrop and I am traveling to Crossbow to be the new schoolmarm."

Luke looked intently into her pretty face and replied.

"Marshal Luke Cavanaugh, Miss Winthrop, no need to ask my pardon. You are welcome to sit on my lap anytime."

Penelope laughed and knew she had been a complete fool. It was just that she was a bit gun-shy around men ever since the incident with the drunken cowboy right after crossing over into Indian Territory. She had fallen asleep in her seat and was shocked to discover hands under her skirts and right up on her private female slit as if she were a wife of many years. It really irritated her that the touch was not entirely unwelcome since it had been many months since her deceased husband had played in her female garden.

Of course, she screamed loudly.

The two cowboys seemed surprised and told her,

"Calm down, sister, we are just playing. No need to get all fluttered up. If you don't want us to poke you, we won't poke you. It sure would help make the trip go faster, though."

Penny did more than flutter. She screeched, she swung her parasol managing to break it over one of their heads, and she pushed them out into the aisle. The conductor came down the aisle and told the two to sleep it off in the caboose and not to bother the female passengers.

After an hour or so of interesting conversation, Penelope allowed she was in need of some "shut-eye" and asked the Marshal if he would mind furnishing his shoulder for her pillow.

Soon, she was snuggled down on his muscular chest and his hand was draped quite nicely on her well-curved hip. It was the placement of that hand that drove Penelope to throw caution to the winds and pull the marshal's other hand straight into her garden nook after lifting her skirt for his secret entry into her heated private spot without being observed by the other passengers.