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  “He marries her only to make a slave of her. He works her harder than he would any beast of burden. He takes of her as he pleases. He beats her, and when he is tired of her pleasures, abandons her, to spend her last hours on earth as though she were trash, alone in some dirty alley.” Pastor John moved out from behind the pulpit. Slightly bowing over, he gestured with both hands toward the floor as if she were lying there in front of him.

  “She has tried to be an upstanding woman, entering into marriage with honorable intent. Now abandoned, penniless, and without support, what options does she have?” Pastor John paused to allow the question to sink into the hearts of the congregation while making eye contact with some of the parishioners, who held their heads high.

  The young preacher stood, and stepped again behind the pulpit. He looked compassionately at the ladies sitting in the back pew. “As she sits in the alley, she contemplates her fate. Hungry, cold, and alone, she knows that her virtue and honor are the only things of value that she has left. As this destitute young woman begs in the street, another man finds her. Does he support her and help her find the right path? Does he give her gainful employment or tithe any of his hard-earned money to charities that would assist this poor child of God?”

  Pastor John’s voice became authoritative as he drove the message home. Slamming his fist on the pulpit he shouted, “No! He takes advantage of her! Knowing that she is destitute, he entices her to sell the only thing she has left, her virtue and honor. In the quest to please his own lustful hunger, he encourages her to prostitute herself, turning her to the path of sin.”

  Standing tall behind the podium, he continued, “I ask you now, who has committed the worst sin? What could be more tragic than the spectacle this poor woman presents? An immortal soul in ruin! Where the star of purity once glittered on her girlish brow, burning shame has set its seal forever.[1] What else is left for her? Where can she go where her sin won’t pursue her?

  “Ladies and gentlemen, the very promises of God are being denied her! Jesus said, ‘Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.’ Hasn’t this child of God indeed labored, and endured a heavy burden? And what have we done to relieve it? Can you tell me a single employment where she can receive what we pray for every Sunday, when we beseech our generous Lord to ‘Give us our daily bread?’

  “We have put this woman to shame! We are just responsible for her ruin as the evil men who have robbed her of her virtue! Only when we have lifted ourselves above our sinful desires can we pass judgment. But who among you is without sin. Who among you would be able judge this woman? I ask you, who would have the right to judge her?”

  My thoughts flew back to Ma and Aunt Lettie, as I remembered their words. “We did not choose this path as ours, but God in his mercy has given us a way to make our daily bread on the backs of sinners who would condemn us. Never, will we allow women to be persecuted because of a decision forced on them by men. Self-righteous men and women may consider the work we do demeaning and evil, but we have created a business rich with profits that frees us to be charitable to those less fortunate in our community.”

  Chapter 9

  The congregation was subdued as the ladies from the bordello made their usual early dismissal. After the service, Patrick was very quiet as he joined the other men talking in hushed tones outside the church. I tried to read his emotions, but I was interrupted by Grace’s hand grasping mine as she hustled me off to meet some of the other women. Quickly I found myself surrounded by happy family women. Grace introduced me to everyone, and everyone enjoyed a spirited time of fellowship.

  As the members of the congregation drifted away intent on their own Sunday plans, I suddenly heard the buckboard behind me. Patrick’s eyes were glowing with enthusiasm as he impatiently clucked to Sheba. It seemed that his earlier mood in church had vanished, and I decided this was not a good time to discuss the merits of the sermon.

  “It is such a beautiful day,” I said, removing my bonnet and allowing the soft breeze to caress my hair. “Do you smell those flowers? Oh listen, I hear a Meadow Lark,” I exclaimed as the beautiful trilling sounds of the small bird wafted across the wide pasture and disappeared into the hills.

  I waved to Grace, Frank, and their children following behind us in their wagon. “I thought we were going on our picnic alone. Are Grace and Frank coming with us?” I asked.

  “Nope,” Patrick chuckled with a mischievous look.

  “Patrick, where are we going?” I asked. He only smiled and signaled Sheba softly with the reigns, urging her past our turnoff. She seemed to understand more than I did as she trotted down the road and pulled the wagon into a grassy field. Sheba snatched up mouthfuls of early summer grass from the rich meadow as she waited for Patrick to unhitch and hobble her.

  “Don’t you dare explore yet,” he admonished me, as I looked around the peaceful meadow. I could hear bees buzzing, birds singing, and the babbling sounds of a small stream float through the air as he finished with the horse.

  Running excitedly toward me, he grabbed the picnic basket and my hand in one motion. Faster, he pulled me toward the delightful sounds of cascading water. Suddenly, he stopped and watched me as I took in the sight before me.

  “Oh Patrick,” I gasped. The damned corset so imprisoned my ribs that I couldn’t seem to catch a decent breath, but the sight I looked over took what little breath I had away.

  To the west, towering mountains shed their last vestiges of winter as the melting snow turned streams into swollen rivers that disappeared to the east.

  “This is the most beautiful place I have ever seen,” I gasped. “The view. And look at how clear that spring is.”

  The view was indeed stunning, but the most captivating thing about this valley was a bubbling stream that popped out from the very center of the grassy knoll in front of me. The hot spring was only about eight inches deep and two feet wide, but crystal clear water bubbled from deep within the hillside and seemed to appear from nowhere. At the mouth of the spring, flat rocks diverted the water’s flow into a lively waterfall that filled a large pond on a ledge below.

  Beneath the transparent waters in the deep pond, I could see the sturdy moss-covered boulders that defined and supported the pool as it looked over the breathtaking mountain vistas. I stood transfixed by the calm waters at the egress of the pool. As the tranquil waters flowed over a shallow dam, they split into shimmering ribbons before disappearing into the valley below.

  “Touch it!” Patrick laughed, his bright golden eyes dancing.

  I looked at him questioningly. I had seen many springs and this was beautiful, but cold waters of a spring were nothing unusual in the Colorado foothills.

  “Ya gotta touch it,” he implored. Slowly, I squatted as much as my corset would allow and put my fingers into the flowing stream. “Its hot!” I burst out with surprise. This is a natural hot spring.” I dipped my hand back into the warm flow of water, and a girlish giggle escaped my corset-strangled chest.

  Spreading the blanket and putting down the picnic basket, Patrick watched and laughed as I sat down on the soft bank of the pool and removed my shoes and stockings. “What? I have on petticoats and a corset, and I don’t want to ruin my Sunday dress, but I just have to put my feet in the water.”

  “I have no intention of letting you ruin your Sunday dress, or the corset and petticoats that I know you love so much. I have a very simple solution for that.” Smoky amber eyes filled with mischievous fire as he stepped behind me and began to unfasten the buttons of my dress.

  His intent finally dawned on me. “Right here? Take everything off here?” I asked.

  He had already stripped down and was headed towards the pool. His muscled back was suntanned from working outside without his shirt. The tan line stopped suddenly at his waist, and his white butt flashed in the sunlight as he stepped into the beckoning waters of the spring.

  “You won’t need that corset in here,” he called, wadding deeper into the
clear water.

  “When it comes to getting out of this contraption, you don’t have to tell me twice,” I giggled, slipping free of all my lady trappings.

  He stood knee-deep in the pool, watching me delight in the hot spring. Mimicking my greeting on the day we married, he said, “How ya doing, honey? Is this your first time?”

  At first I blushed, surprised that he was alluding to the very comment, which had to seemed to offend him when we first met.

  Sobering up somewhat, he added, “Well do you like it?” He watched my face for any tell-tail signs of embarrassment, but he found none. Whatever shred of modesty I had left had disappeared. I stepped deeper into the heated waters.

  “This is marvelous!” I exclaimed to him. A cool mountain breeze caught the delicate tissue around my uncovered nipples, sending shivers of delight through my body. I sank into the wonderfully warm waters of the pond.

  He led me around the rim of the pool to the large, rounded boulders that formed a natural chair, ceremoniously steering me into the stones.

  “I don’t think this will work on a naked behind,” I started to say as he settled me on hard boulders. But to my surprise the buoyancy of the water cushioned my seat, and a mossy covering over the hard stones made the big boulders feel like a velvet sofa.

  “Oh my,” I whispered. “We are full of surprises today!”

  He dropped to his knees in front of my throne, sinking up to his shoulders in the hot waters. “Ada, I have never known a woman like you. You’re always surprising me. If I ever cause you distress, please tell me. I am not an easy man to live with and can be judgmental. I hope you can learn to understand me. I’m so eager to share my life with you. Nothing you could ever say or do could change my mind about you.”

  I held him tight in the warm waters. Learn to understand you? I thought. I don’t think you know how much you’ll need to learn to understand me. I hope we never need to find out. His honesty and vulnerability poured deeply into my heart. Could the sermon have softened his views on the type of women that had raised me? I was not yet willing to share my secret with him.

  My senses filled with his wet, masculine scent, and I watched his manhood respond to our intimacy. He pulled me close, my breasts pressed against his chest. As our passion grew, his tongue caressed my lips, gently probing my hungry mouth. This man was insatiable, and I was just as ravenous.

  As he positioned himself between the boulders, his erection found its path into my warm passage. He thrust himself deeply into my willing opening. Lifting me by my hips, he effortlessly pulled me into the center of the pool.

  Panting in delight, I let myself yield to his passionate thrusts as the water made me float like a feather. As I hugged his waist with my legs, we circled in a passionate dance, our feelings finding expression through the silent language of our touch.

  The sounds of our pleasure echoed off of the surrounding hillside as we twirled, his manhood deeply impaled within me. The rhythm and intensity of Patrick’s thrusts increased, and the motion created waves on the surface of the warm pool. With each thrust of his stiff member, my desire for him heightened. I could sense his pleasure intensifying as our lovemaking became more focused. Coming to a climax, he swayed to his knees, lowering me into the comfortable waters, but my hunger still burned. Effortlessly he carried me to the sandy edge of the pool, where I lay naked and panting.

  I watched his penetrating fingers disappear into my wet bush, stimulating and exciting my already sensitive regions. A tingle started at the tip of the nerve bundle, and exploded through my mysterious passage. Quivering, on the sand, breathless in satisfaction. Patrick gathered me into his arms, pressing his body close to mine as we rested on the beach. “The sun is warm and the breeze will feel good after being in the hot water,” he said, as he led me off the beach and onto a cool cotton blanket.

  We soon realized that we had worked up an appetite for something other than making love. I watched with enjoyment as my lover opened the picnic basket, and examined its contents. Excitedly he devoured a large piece of fried chicken I had prepared for our outing. Turning, he offered an equally delectable piece to me. Lying naked on our backs, we allowed the shade to cool us as we contentedly munched the last of the delicious meal. Sun glittered through the leaves of the old cottonwood tree, and deep sighs of satisfaction welled from both of us. With our bodies satisfied we drifted off to sleep.

  The next moment, I was opening my eyes and seeing the setting sun. Looking over at Patrick, I slapped his shoulder. Startled, his sleep-numbed brain registered the lack of danger, but questioned the attack. “Why did you do that?” he asked.

  I held up a blood-speckled palm, saying, “If we don’t want to be a picnic lunch for these hungry mosquitoes, I think we better put on our clothes and go home.”

  “Good idea,” he said. “I would hate to end such a perfect day itching with mosquito bites, especially in the more delicate areas.” His eyes twinkled as he patted my naked bottom. After I had put on my bloomers, petticoats, skirt, and blouse we climbed into the wagon. The corset, cold and empty, huddled dejectedly under the buckboard seat as Sheba trotted home.

  Chapter 10

  Days later, Patrick and I sat at the kitchen table having breakfast. “I am so excited about today,” I said as Patrick finished his breakfast and picked up the Winchester.

  “Me too. When Willie from the railroad came by to tell us that the bull had arrived, I couldn’t believe that he was here a week early,” Patrick replied.

  “Good timing, though. Frank said he could go to town with me today. His wagon has a strong hitch and Frank’s horse Champ has worked with bulls before, so he won’t be as spooked as Sheba would.”

  Patrick eyed our patient horse as she stood dozing in the morning sun. “Sheba needs a good day off anyway. Keep her in the corral and give her a bucket of those oats with a little molasses. She will be very happy.”

  “Be quick,” I warned. “Frank needs to take Grace into town today, and I know she was planning to leave this afternoon. The baby still has not turned, and the doctor wants her close to his office, just in case something goes wrong.”

  “You worry too much,” Patrick shot back with a boyish smile. “Anyway, I’m in a big hurry to get that bull in with the heifers, so we won’t be gone very long. I’m taking the rifle. You’ve got the shotgun if you need it. I pity the poor creature, man or beast, who crosses your path!” He knew I wouldn’t have any difficulty using the shotgun. “I don’t like leaving you alone, but I feel much better knowing you can handle a firearm.” He kissed me as he stepped onto the porch.

  “Now git!” I told him as I shooed him off the porch. “I’ve got work to do. Today is laundry day and I have lots of chores to finish before you get home.” He disappeared on the path to the Tellers’ ranch. “Cold brisket and fresh asparagus will be waiting for you for supper when you’re back.”

  I eagerly got started doing my chores. After cleaning the house for several hours, I set up the laundry tub and got a fire started to heat the water. The water had just started boiling, dissolving the white cakes of lye soap into a milky film, when I heard the first shot.

  That’s funny, I thought as I looked toward the Tellers’ ranch. Frank is with Patrick, and Grace doesn’t like to shoot. I wiped my forehead as the second shot brought my attention to the grassy hill that separated our ranch from the Tellers’. Nothing seemed amiss, but I was now on alert waiting for the distress signal. The third shot rang through the warm day. Three shots. I knew something wasn’t right. I gathered the skirts of my housedress together, and rushed to the porch.

  Oh dear God! Frank and Patrick have been gone long enough that they won’t hear those shots. I hope it’s a mistake, but if Grace is in trouble she will be alone with the kids.

  I ran into the house and stood, disoriented for a moment. How will I get to her fast enough? I can’t wear this damned skirt or I will be tangled up in sagebrush before I get halfway there. I wish ...

  An idea swept
over me. Pulling off my skirt and petticoats, I ran into my bedroom. I jerked the bottom dresser drawer open, searching for my precious dungarees. Swiftly I slid into them and tightened the waist ties. Now I could move!

  Three more blasts from the Tellers’ rifle confirmed the urgency of the distress signal. My thoughts were racing on how to get there the quickest way. It was no mistake! I had to get there now, but how? Running wouldn’t be fast enough. I raced out of the front door, grabbing the shotgun as I bounded down the porch steps. Wait, I suddenly realized that Patrick and Frank had taken Champ. Sheba was in the corral, but we didn’t have a saddle. Hell, I didn’t have time to saddle her even if we did.

  Not knowing what I would do when I reached the corral, I came up with a plan on the run. “Sheba, old girl,” I called to the startled horse. “I sure hope you are up for an adventure!” I grabbed her halter. Throwing a lead rope over her neck, I swung up on her back with a practiced leap.

  Picking up the shotgun from the open gatepost, I squeezed my legs against Sheba’s sides, hoping she would understand my body language. Being conditioned to pulling a wagon, Sheba hesitated for an instant, but quickly realizing a heavy load no longer restrained her, she was into a full gallop in seconds.

  As I directed the mare over the hill, she saw the Tellers’ ranch and instinctively knew where we were headed. Her big hooves rapidly hammered across the prairie grass.

  “Tillie, Ricky, Grace!” I yelled, as I tied Sheba to the fence. I rushed through the open front door of the Tellers’ cabin. Tillie was huddled on the floor, by the stove, holding a wide-eyed Ricky in her small arms. Doubled over beside the table, Grace was panting and trying to control her breathing.