I could tell Sam missed his daughter, and I figured having me around helped ease his loneliness. Being around him felt comfortable for me, so things began to fall in place. Most days Sam kept me busy teaching reining to Licorice, then he started riding Georgie-B again. I swore Georgie could sense Sam was out of shape, so he was careful to take it easy around the barrels — at first. But by last week they were showing daily improvement and had cut three seconds off their time.
The next day Sam rode up to me and pointed toward the hay field that needed mowing. "Kent, you know what, since we’re busy with the horses and the last two of the mares are due any day now, you don’t have time to mow. Already several breeders and trainers are calling, inquiring about the four new foals. Just dealing with our breeding and training schedule will keep the two of us busy. I think it would be best if we hired us a ranch hand. What do you say?"
It thrilled me to death. I had always hoped that someday I could get paid for training horses at a professional level. I shook my head in silent wonder at the turn of events with Rachel and her family. I had always felt Rachel would make a beautiful wife and mother. As I had gotten to know her better, I was sure my suspicions were correct. I had even fantasized about building a house somewhere nearby Sam and living our lives out together.
I knew I should be proud of Rachel, a small-town girl from Wyoming attending a fancy New York college, working hard to develop her potential. Several times I had picked up my phone to call her then chickened out. I was afraid I would say the wrong thing, not knowing how to tell her how much I missed her.
A few days later, after doing a working interview with three prospects, we hired Gavin. It seemed they all said they wanted to work. But when it came to carrying heavy bales of hay and cutting themselves on the barbed wire mending fences, they didn't show up the next day.
So far Gavin was doing okay for a green nineteen-year-old kid, but he could have done with some military training. He was lousy at following orders and was late for work this morning. Moments ago, he had the audacity to ask me to go pick up his pliers he had absentmindedly left by the fence. Sam was standing there watching and knew Gavin had pissed me off when I whipped around, and asked, "What the fuck did you say?"
Gavin rethought his question, and with a sheepish grin, he said, "Oh, nothing Kent, I was just making a joke."
I took off my hat and ran my palm through my hair, trying to control my anger. "Look, we take our work seriously around here. So don't go joking with me. Walk your ass on out there — maybe you won't forget the next time.”
Gavin looked like I had slapped him in the face — what a pussy. He turned around and started sauntering back to where we were working.
Then I heard Sam holler, "Kent! That's enough. I think the kid got your message."
I turned to face Sam and lowered my eyes. “I’m sorry, sir. That won’t ever happen again. I don’t know what I was thinking."
Sam narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brows with worry instead of anger. Then he stepped closer and put one hand on my shoulder. "You know, son, you shouldn't have let her go."
I cocked my head to one side, and asked, “What are you talking about?"
A grin came over his face. “Kent, I’ve lived almost fifty-five years now, and it didn't take me but a minute to figure there was a spark between you and Rachel. I had never seen her face light up like it did when you walked up that first day.”
I knew Sam was a smart old bird, but I had no idea he would intervene and encourage our relationship. “I know you love her,” he added. I felt my heart had been punctured by an arrow. I had never spoken those words aloud, and I never imagined Rachel’s father had either. Before he walked on Sam peered into my eyes and nodded. “You know son, saying you love somebody doesn’t make you a pussy — it makes you a man!”
Shifting my weight from one foot to the other, I looked up at Sam. “She wanted to go to college,” I said. “I didn’t want to stop her from achieving her dreams.”
Sam smiled and clapped me on the back as we turned and walked toward the house. “You’ve been brave, and I commend your nobility. But Kent, I know my daughter. She stopped wanting to leave home soon after you started working here.”
I narrowed my eyes in confusion, and countered, “But you’re the one who wrote away to the college.”
Sam's face was beaming with joy when he answered. "Because I wanted to give her a choice — to test her to see if that was what she really wanted. And besides, I also had an ulterior motive."
"What was that?" I asked, keeping in step with him.
"And I wanted you both to admit the truth to each other." Then Sam shook his head and chuckled. "But you are both too damned bull-headed!" My jaw fell slack as I tried to process what Sam had just told me. Then with a gleam in his eyes, he said, "I know where Rachel gets her stubborn streak. I figure you got yours from your mother."
I threw my head back and laughed. "That's right. You and Sally and Mama went to school together."
Sam smiled shyly. "Yeah, and I took her to the drive-in theater one time."
"What, you and Mama?"
"Yep, but after one date she ditched me for your father — he was much older and already owned a ranch.” Then Sam stopped and reminded me. "You better go check on that knucklehead Gavin, and tell him to be on time tomorrow!"
I paused for a moment, but Sam kept on walking. Then I reached out and grabbed his arm. "What should I do...I mean about Rachel?"
Sam lowered his head and peered up at me through his bushy eyebrows. "If I were you I'd get in that old truck of yours — make sure you change the oil first — and drive down to Cheyenne. Then ease east on I-80 and don't get off until you reach New Jersey.”
I nodded my head, and Sam continued. “Then hit the New Jersey Turnpike and follow it across the Hudson River to New York City!”
Chapter 17
Rachel
It was Friday and I was pushing the dormitory door open as I pulled my wool sweater around my shoulders. Stepping over an empty coffee cup rolling in the crisp breeze, I rushed toward the lecture hall, wondering about Kent. How was he doing? What was he doing? He hadn’t called, so I figured he might have found someone else. I made it just in time to find my seat before Dr. Morris began handing out our algebra test. I glanced around and could count on one hand the women I knew on a first name basis.
Soon after I had arrived on campus, several weeks ago, I realized I was at least eight years older than most of the girls, so making friends had not come easy. After all, I was from Wyoming, and many of the others attending Barnard College were from the surrounding areas. So I was viewed as a dumb, unpolished cowgirl, who had no fashion sense at all. And to me, many of them were spoiled freaks with their purple hair, nose piercings, and cutesy tattoos.
As I dug in my backpack for my mechanical pencil, I heard Dr. Morris say, "Okay, ladies, you may turn your tests over and began now. You have sixty minutes!"
I bit my lip as I glanced over the test of only ten problems, broken down into ten points each. Out of all the online courses I had taken, not one had prepared me for college algebra — a freshman requirement. I had studied hard and recalled some of what I had learned in high school about the quadratic equation. So this test was relatively simple. But the next segment of the course would end with exponentials and logarithms — oy vey!
Thirty minutes later I walked up to Dr. Morris' desk and handed him my test. He looked up at me and the corners of his lips turned up in an obligatory smile. "Have a nice day," he said.
I felt cold as I walked out and sauntered past the ivy-covered brick walls, headed back toward my matchbox-sized dorm room. After trying to breathe in a breath of fresh air, I almost coughed from the exhaust fumes caused by the trucks and buses moving up and down Broadway. I missed the fresh, cool air that blew down off the mountains. I missed Kent, Daddy, the horses, and even Sally — and on and on.
Taking my time — what was the hurry, all my homework and studies were done f
or the weekend — my mind became awash in memories of Kent and me making love together. I wished I had the privacy to pleasure myself, but that seemed impossible. As soon as I would lock my door something or somebody would disturb me. So I decided to take the subway to the Metropolitan Museum — one of the few places in New York City I had fallen in love with.
Just as I passed the security guard's shack beside the student parking lot, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I spotted a red beat up truck that looked just like Kent's. I squinted, not sure if what I was seeing was real or a dream. Then I gasped when I realized Kent was leaning against the trunk of a nearby tree with his arms crossed over his chest, watching me.
My bag fell off my shoulder as I ran to meet him. My heart was beating so hard I felt I couldn't breathe, and my eyes began to sting. Kent rushed toward me with open arms. When our bodies came together, we embraced each other. I lay my head against his leather jacket and I could hear his heart pounding in his chest. I was sobbing so hard he had to pry my face away by cupping my chin in his hand. Then he gazed into my teary eyes, and said, "I've missed you, Rachel."
My tongue was numb. My mouth was dry. I tried to form words with my lips, but I was dumbstruck, rendered mute. All I could do was squeeze Kent tightly and nod my head. I'm not sure how long we stood there in our embrace, slowly swaying back and forth. Two souls alone on their private island, surrounded by the masses of New York City. Finally, he picked me up and swung me around like I was a young school girl. Then I giggled and managed to say, "Kent I've missed you so much. I can't believe you're here.”
"Can you believe it now," he asked bending down to kiss me. Our lips locked and his tongue slipped between my lips. I pushed back as a burning desire for him rushed over me. I knew we had a lot to talk about before we could give in to our physical need, so I asked, "How on earth did you manage to park here? And how long can you stay?”
Kent nodded toward the security guard, who was facing the other way. "For twenty bucks he printed me a visitor's pass, but it's only good for twenty-four hours. So I will have to move it tomorrow. I’m staying till Monday if that’s okay with you?”
I snuggled up against him again and answered with a question. “You can only stay till Monday?”
As we walked over to pick up my bag, my mind was reeling with excitement. Kent and I were finally going to live out one of my dreams. He never knew about it, though, because I hadn’t a chance to invite him to visit me in the Big Apple back on our graduation day.
I took his hand in mine. “Come on. Let's go across the street to Ollie’s and grab a sandwich. You must be starving. How long did it take you to get here?”
"Just a few days," he said, with a mischievous grin. I was so excited on so many levels that I became distracted and started to cross the street before the crosswalk signal turned green. Kent tugged on my arm, pulling me back as a taxi whizzed by right in front of me.
I started giggling, giddy with delight. "How did you know that cab was coming?"
By that time the crosswalk signal had turned green, and as we stepped down into the street, Kent smirked and said, "Rachel, I've been to many big cities all around the world. Just because I'm dressed in jeans and cowboy boots doesn't mean I am green to city life."
We broke into a run to get across the street in time, and I realized I had never imagined Kent living anywhere but Cody, Wyoming. I found it hard to envision him as a Navy SEAL, living a life that was foreign to me.
Kent was quick to spot a booth — a rare find at Ollie's — and pulled me over to sit next to him. Before I had a chance to put my book bag on the floor, Kent's arm was around my shoulder, pulling me closer. I parted my lips and felt his other hand bunching my full denim skirt. Then he worked it up to the soft, sensitive skin on the inside of my thigh. My eyes flew open, and I gasped. Kent was about to finger me — not in here, not in Ollie's. So I grabbed his hand. "Stop Kent, let's wait. It's too light in here; someone will see us."
“So what,” he said withdrawing his hand. I reached over and squeezed his throbbing cock, and he nuzzled his nose into my neck, and whispered, "We'll get back to this later. I need your pussy, Rachel. I’ve been waiting to make love to you for so long now.”
Over lunch, Kent explained how he was sorry for his rude and distant behavior when he found out I was leaving. I understood it had all happened so fast and was quick to forgive him. Kent told me how he had lost his temper with the new ranch hand, Gavin, and how Daddy had convinced him most of his problems were stemming from our lack of communication. I couldn’t have agreed more and finally felt Kent and I was making progress toward a healthy, happy relationship.
After lunch, Kent had rolled his eyes at the idea of going to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I should have known better and just called it the Metropolitan Museum. The art thing threw him for a loop. I could tell he thought visiting an art museum would label him a limp-dicked, gutless wonder. But as soon as I explained he could see Egyptian artifacts dating back to the pharaohs, he changed his mind. He described how on his flight to the Middle East he had spotted the pyramids out of the airplane window and had always wanted to visit them.
All afternoon we held hands, walking the streets of the city. He stopped when we got to Trump Tower and took a few pics. On the way to the World Trade Center Memorial, we snuggled in the subway seats. When we got there, we marveled at the beautiful architecture as we read the names on the plaques of those who were lost in the attack.
By the time we grabbed a snack at the visitor’s center and walked uptown to Chambers Street Station, the sun had slipped behind the skyscrapers. We made out in the corner of the subway car and almost forgot to get off at our 116th Street stop. My blouse was half- unbuttoned as we hurried back to the campus. We were overjoyed — to say the least — to find the student parking lot roped off and the security guard gone.
Kent was quick to unlock his truck door on the passenger's side while I slipped out of my panties. Moments later the windows were steamed over, and Kent unzipped his fly. He took one of my nipples and squeezed hard, remembering that was how I liked it. I squealed with delight as I reached down and parted up my wet, swollen pussy lips. I didn't bother to rub my clit. There was no need; I had been sopping wet all afternoon, waiting for a moment to have Kent’s hard manhood inside me. So I straddled Kent's lap and swallowed his throbbing cock with my hot horny pussy and played the cowgirl role.
Kent let go of my breast and arched his neck back in a moment of ecstasy, and whispered in my ear, "Go slow, I want to remember this, and I haven't put on a condom yet.”
I giggled as I brought my feet up on the seat and squatted over his lap. I used my strong thighs to ride him harder and faster. Of course, I loved cowgirl position, and it appeared Kent did, too. By that time, he had both hands pressing on the seat beside him bracing, pushing back against me. On a downstroke, I whispered into his ear, "Don't worry. I started on birth control when I was back in Cody — thinking I needed to."
He nodded and grinned. "Good, I can't hold it any longer."
The light from the streetlight streamed in through the back window above the seat and silhouetted Kent’s head and neck. There was just enough light on his face for me to watch as he bit his lowered lip before he groaned and grunted as his thick cock started unloading. Even though I hadn’t cum yet, I slowed down, just enjoying watching him. I knew he wouldn’t leave me hanging, and man, was I right. His cock never got soft — Kent just kept cuming and cuming.
He laughed as he laid me down on the bench seat, with my head near the steering wheel, and completely unbuttoned my blouse and pushed my bra up, setting both breasts free. "Ah," he said. "Now it's my turn to fuck your brains out." And he almost did!
I lost count how many orgasms I had with his cock driving me hard. Then like a butterfly, his tongue was on my clit, causing my pussy to pour my juices all over his face. He wouldn't give me a break, maybe because I was begging for more. By the time he was finished my nipples ached, and my pussy w
as sore, but I had never felt so satisfied and happy.
It was five o'clock in the morning when I woke up in Kent's arms. He had propped himself against the door and the steering wheel, and before we had drifted off, he pulled a blanket and a pillow from behind his seat. That’s when he told me he had driven straight through all the way across the country only taking catnaps at a truck stop or rest area. I could barely move, but I managed to kiss him again and thanked him for coming to visit me.
We had slept that way all night. Since it was early Saturday morning, most of the girls were still out or had left for the weekend. So I slipped Kent inside my dorm — thank goodness, Daddy had paid for a private room. I double locked the door, and we got in the shower. I gasped as he bent me over, spread my ass cheeks and fucked me doggy style, saying, “Rachel, this will help work the soreness out.” He was right. After a good fifteen minutes with Kent in the shower, I left like a new woman.
The rest of the weekend was like a dream. Kent had enough cash he’d been ratholing to pay for two nights at the Plaza Hotel. We lived it up, talking and eating and getting full use of our Jacuzzi bathtub. Sunday afternoon we went to see the Broadway show, Hamilton. I don't know how he did it, but Kent arranged for us to meet the cast afterward — another one of my dreams had come true!
A Distant Heart: A Contemporary Western Page 10
