Wilde-Fire: Wonder Women 0f The Old West (Half Breed Haven Book 1)

by A. M. Van Dorn

  Frustrated, she knew she needed to find Honor and talk it out with her, just what they would do. Before she had gone off earlier, she had been flirting with Jackson and now, a quick scan around revealed that they were nowhere to be seen. She had a pretty good idea where they had gone off to.

  Not wishing to interrupt her sister from indulging in the same good time she had enjoyed so many hours ago with Selena, she decided to wait a while before she sought her out to give Honor Elizabeth just a few more minutes of fun with her new “friend”.

  ***

  Honor Elizabeth would surely have appreciated the gesture from Catalina if she had known about it. Only a few minutes ago, she had wrapped her legs around Carver in the watering hole and thrilled as the heavily muscled ranch hand picked her up and carried her out of the water.

  She thanked him as he gently laid her in the grass at the water’s edge. It had been her idea to continue their tryst out of the water when she had felt something brush against her leg. As far as she was concerned, fish were only good when they were on a plate with fresh lemon juice sprinkled over them.

  Earlier, the posse had found the watering hole not far from the clearing where Newell had declared they would make camp, with a plan to get rest so they would be ready to take on the Fenwicks in the morning, when they arrived in the area where the now dead informant had told them the rustling family would be.

  When Honor had seen the swimming hole, she knew she would be back there later after all the horses had been watered and extra water brought back to the campsite, leaving the place empty. She had whispered to Catalina that it would be an ideal spot for a skinny-dipping session with Carver Jackson, if he was game. Honor Elizabeth, of course, had known he would certainly be up for it and when she had made the suggestion, it had proved to be most true.

  As they laid their naked backs on the bank, kissing, they both let their guards down and allowed themselves to be swept away in a wave of passion. She stuck her tongue into his mouth and he sucked it in immediately, mimicking the movement of a baby’s mouth on a nipple and causing a spark of light to go off at the nape of her neck.

  His hand snaked into her hair and buried itself into the thickness, while his mouth became even more demanding. Even though the breeze was particularly strong and her skin was getting cold, she felt warm all over, as his mouth gave her lower lip one last smack before trailing down her neck. The touch of his teeth on her skin was gentle, but at the same time, he was leaving a blazing trail of burning tingling sensation as he kissed his way down to her right breast, which had been supported by his left hand before that moment. When his mouth closed over her nipple, she gasped and grabbed hold of his head in pleasure.

  His tongue flickered over her nipple like a flame of fire from a candle, licking at her and twirling around the pert brownness until her back was arched almost double. His other hand fondled her free breast and tweaked at the nipple on it, then he would change abruptly and the burn would continue.

  In a most welcome development for Honor, his hand found its way through her tangle of hair and his snaky finger had found her womanhood in a flash and was soon teasing it while his mouth continued to burn its way around her nipples. She was getting a different kind of wet than from the swimming hole. Dripping soggy wet, she knew that it was only a matter of time before she started to beg him to take her right there. Her whimpers had grown more consistent and louder, and her head bounced backwards and forwards. The sound of her moaning voice nearly drove him crazy and soon he parted her legs and lowered his face towards her core ever so slowly. She shivered lightly at the thought of what was about to happen and let her legs go apart as wide as it would go. He held her legs in place and drew close between intent on her pleasure.

  At first, the suck was tentative, almost as if he was taking a taste before the full dive in, then he covered her throbbing clit with his mouth and started to tongue it as if he was trying to savor slowly. His finger wiggled into her almost unnoticed because she was so wet. It wasn’t until he pulled it out and made a second thrust. She gasped and grabbed a hold of his head, but he wiggled out of her hands and continued to suck as if his life depended on it. She threw her legs further apart as far as they would go, but had to bring them right back because she could only take so much.

  "Oh my! Oh my!" she panted repeatedly as his hands alternated between her dripping wet pussy and her nipples. Fearing that her head would explode, she jerked away from his hand and mouth and moved up in the sand. He paused and looked at her with burning irises.

  "Am I doing it wrong, my lady?" he asked with a mischievous glint that told her that he knew the exact answer to his question even before she answered him. She didn’t answer, she just gave him a look that looked like she was going to pounce on him soon. He chuckled to himself and moved towards her again.

  He grabbed her waist and put his throbbing dick at the entrance of her honey well, then he looked at her straight in her eyes and asked, "Are you ready?" He asked her gently and she responded by doing exactly what she had wanted to for such a long time. She lifted her hips and let his large engorged dick slide into her. She moved her waist around a little just to make him slide in fully until he was nested within her.

  This time, he was the one that gasped.

  "Oh, sweet lord!"

  His gasp was justified as he realized that even though she was so wet, she was also so tight and willing and waiting for him. As he moved into her, he could feel her walls tightening around him. Pulling him in and making him fight to stay hard and not just spill immediately. He filled her up to the brim and she took it. When he tried to withdraw in order to take another plunge, he had to grit his teeth as the sparks that went off in his mind were just unbearable. He grabbed a hold of her ass and pulled it backwards such that both were now on their knees.

  His hands found her boobs and pulled her into an almost upright position, creating an arch in her moistness that made her even tighter and more persuasive. Then he started to push into her, pumping into her gently at first. But with each new stroke, he found it increasingly difficult to go slowly. As much as he wanted to savor her, he couldn't do it because her body urged him on... her body begged him to go faster. Her hips met his halfway, with each new thrust, and made it even more impactful.

  "Honor, oh, my God!" he gasped, as he flipped her over in the hopes that the old-fashioned style would help him calm down and not cum too fast, but he was wrong. The minute he dipped into her, his whole body quaked and before he could gather the momentum and courage to pull out, he had collapsed against her. Pouring all that was in him into her body and filling her up with his essence.

  Exhausted, he collapsed against her and felt his head bounce lightly on her boobs. He soon was breathing heavily and seemed like someone who had run a country race.

  As their time of bliss ended, they both were in the process of slipping on their previously discarded clothing when they were alerted to the sound of rustling in the bush along the trail that led up from the encampment.

  Carver was still shirtless when Catalina burst out of the trail head and hurried over to them. The man turned away in embarrassment and finished pulling on his shirt. Honor Elizabeth, still clad only in her undergarments and her dress hanging from her arm, strode over to meet her sister.

  Honor looked at her sister and saw the alarm in her face. She knew instantly that something was wrong. “What is it? Is everything okay?”

  Catalina shook her head. “Sure ain’t. I’m sorry for gettin’ you into this. That pack of fools down there are headin’ for an early grave unless we do somethin’.”

  She looked at Carver who was now facing her with his shirt fully buttoned. “No offense, Mister Jackson, but this posse …” she started to say to excuse her barging in on them, but he cut her short.

  “None taken, ma’am. You don’t have to tell me. I sure wouldn’t have gotten mixed up to it, but for my loyalty to my boss. I know it ain’t right. You seem like brave women; the both of you. But th
is is no place for you. Not with them.”

  Catalina grinned. “Yes and no,” she said, with the smile still on her face. “We should be here, because we might have to step up and lead the thing.”

  Carver turned such that he faced them both. “Say again now? I know this isn’t a real posse and all, but …”

  Honor frowned. “Carver, whatever do you mean by that?”

  Carver looked sorry at that moment, as the guilt on his face became obvious.

  “I suppose I should have told you … maybe even spoke up when you were first volunteerin’ to join, but I guess old habits die hard.”

  Honor knew of what he spoke because during their ride into the Twin Butte valley, as they were getting to know each other, he had spoken of the years of hardship on a cotton plantation in the Deep South. He had told her the best way for a slave to keep above the ground was to remain silent and do as ordered. That had been his play, keeping him alive until the guns fell silent and Lee surrendered his sword at Appomattox.

  Honor fixed her eyes on him and this made him squirm just a little bit. “What did not you say? Go on Carver.”

  Carver dropped his gaze to the earth briefly, before looking back at her.

  “Ma’am, this isn’t any official posse.”

  Honor smiled to herself at the formality he had just used. She assumed it was for Catalina’s benefit because given how intimate the two had just been, the time for formalities had long passed. She became serious, though, as just what he was saying sunk in.

  “What the hell you mean?” Catalina demanded.

  “From what I understand from some of the men, after the sheriff and the others got killed, the senior deputy, a man by the name Dolan left Cavendish to go over to Pine Mesa Canyon to get Pine Mesa’s sheriff and his deputies. Being as big as it was, they got a fair number of deputies and he was going to form a posse from the Sonoran retirees.

  Honor’s eyes widened. “I beg your pardon, who?”

  As she waited for his answer, she slipped on her dress and took a glance down at her boots and the belt housing her pistol and knife, but made no move to put them on as she turned her gaze to her lover, expectantly waiting for him to continue, which he obliged.

  “The Town of Pine Mesa is a stone’s throw from Fort Sonora. A lot of men who served at it retired to the town after they were done with the service, as they liked it around there.” He paused and sighed.

  “The point is Dolan was assembling seasoned men to deal with Ma Fenwick’s boys. As I understand it, Newell didn’t want to wait, though, and with Dolan on his way to Mesa, he began to recruit his friends and then friends of their friends and so on, till you got what you see here. Twenty wet-behind-the-ears kids mixed in with a few older men like me who got volunteered at the different ranches the posse stopped at before leaving Cavendish.”

  "Are you tellin’ me that whole bit he gave us at the Double J about bein’ actin’ sheriff was hogwash?!" Catalina asked.

  "I’m sure Deputy Newell feels like he’s the acting sheriff because he felt he was taking action instead of letting more and more time and distance go by since the Fenwicks murdered Underwood," Carver explained. "Truthfully, though, what it comes down to is he’s gone off halfcocked, and now, I’m sorry you ladies got drawn into this."

  Catalina’s jaw tightened. She was angry at Newell for misrepresenting himself, but at the same time, she felt a strange kinship with him. He had gone off halfcocked for the right reasons and so had she.

  Before Carver could continue any further, the night air was shattered by a fuselage of gunshots echoing up from clearing below. The three looked at each other under the moonlight and then raced around to the far edge of the watering hole where a clear view presented itself into the clearing below. What they saw to their horror was a massacre.

  ***

  Moments earlier, the Fenwicks and their men were closing in for the kill.

  Chet held his hand out to stop. Foster wasn’t paying attention as he ran into Chet and almost knocked his brother over.

  Chet groaned like a wounded man and cursed under his breath. “Damn boy. Why do I always get stuck with you?” he moaned to no one in particular.

  Foster chuckled and looked at his brother. “Just lucky, I guess!”

  “Shut up,” he said in a whisper.

  As Chet knelt, he smelled the mesquite wood burning on the fire. He moved the branch that was in his face so he could see clearly. Ahead, he saw the posse. They were unaware of the men’s presence. The posse had splintered into three distinct clusters. One group was at the near end of the clearing illuminated by their campfire. They had turned the large stump of a tree into a makeshift card table and the men clustered around it were engaged in some serious gambling.

  In the middle of the clearing near a cluster of boulders was a second group of men who also had a campfire blazing. The third group, which was at the far end of the clearing, weren’t men at all, but their horses where a couple men loitered. Scattered throughout the clearing were men here and there who had already settled into their bed rolls or were just getting ready to. Chet grinned at the thought of such easy pickings.

  Moving close to his brother, Foster said.

  “What’s the move? You want to rush in there, guns a’blazin or what?”

  Chet shook his head. “Hold up, I just want to make sure I didn’t miss anything.”

  Foster’s Irish blood grew hot. He wanted to move. His red curly hair was hidden under his hat, but his red sideburns that traveled to his jawline were becoming saturated with sweat.

  Chet slowly moved back. He pulled out both his revolvers, quickly checking the ammo in both guns. Foster did the same while Chet turned to his other men leaning forward with one hand on his knee.

  “Let’s get these greenies. You men, spread out and encircle the clearing. When I fire off a shot, charge on in and blast them to hell. Understood?”

  The men all nodded and evaporated into the night like phantoms. With an impatient Foster chomping at the bit behind him, Chet continued to wait until he figured his men had enough time to get in position. Eying his intended target of the card game, he slowly raised his gun in the air, holding it straight up. A second later, the clearing echoed from the single shot.

  Foster jumped out of the brush along with Chet, bounding towards the card game. He had his two revolvers out, looking as if they were dogs on a leash waiting to attack.

  All gambling immediately ceased, as the five men around the stump raised their heads from their cards and stared directly at Foster Fenwick who smiled at them through a grin that featured several missing and rotted teeth

  “How do ya do, fellas?” he asked with the ugly leer growing larger.

  They were still in utter shock as Chet ran past his brother, and without saying a word, unleashed hell. All across, the clearing gunfire seemed to be erupting everywhere.

  The first man Chet killed was a young man in his late teens. The look in his eyes was that of a man facing reality of certain death. Chet stared directly through the young man and pulled the trigger even as his eyes were already shifting to his next target, before the bullet even hit the young man. His life was wasted without a thought from his murderer.

  The young man that was to the right of the first victim watched a friend, he had known since they were kids chasing chickens at Triple Circle Ranch together, fall lifeless across the improvised card table, knocking cards and chips in all directions. He had never seen a dead body before, let alone it being his best friend. With his mind racing, and a heart that felt as if it would pound its way out of his chest the young man whipped his head around trying to pick which way to run. He only had a second more to choose before Chet cut him down, his own body sprawling across that of his friend.

  Bullets were flying everywhere as Chet disposed of the other three men. Already needing to reload his guns, he went to one knee.

  Foster saw his brother reloading, and scanned the encampment quickly looking for some men of his own t
o kill. He spied other young men running away towards the edges of the camp in all directions. The Fenwick brother froze as he saw an older seasoned-looking man step into view drawing his weapon. He had a cigar sticking out of his mouth and a grey whiskered face. A couple of the young men fell in behind him. The man showed not on trace of fear on his face quickly trained his gun at Foster and fired.

  Seconds later Foster found himself in motion as a great push slammed against his torso, sending him crashing to the dew-coated ground. He quickly looked, and as he did, he saw Chet roll over squeezing his trigger twice, dropping the valiant older gunslinger where he stood. Chet then looked over to Foster shaking his head.

  “How’d you let that old cactus get the drop on you! Gotta be quicker, you dummy!”

  Foster nodded as if he had acquired a knowledge that would be useful later, even though he was still in shock. “Hee haw!” he bellowed half-heartedly, still shaken from his near-death experience. He looked on as Chet was walking towards the group of young men who were stuck in their tracks, all seemingly afraid to go for the guns at their hips. Foster looked at where the older man lay bleeding out, and watched as Chet stooped and plucked the cigar that had fallen from the man’s mouth when he went down, and took a long drag off from it.

  A heartbeat later Chet gunned down the youths each with a single shot per man. He looked over at Foster who seemingly was pulling himself together following his brush with death. Abruptly the brother’s attention was drawn to gun fire coming from the middle of the clearing by the collection of boulders.

  Chet knew the scattered remaining posse would be hard to get but not the men holding their ground by the rocks. Ducking behind a large tree accompanied by Foster he reloaded his weapons. He looked up and saw Foster coming behind him.

  “Foster, come on. Let’s get those greenhorns over by them rocks!” he said, as a fresh burst of adrenaline moved through his body.

  ***

  Honor Elizabeth and Catalina stood alternating looking between the flashes of muzzle fire below and to each other. In unspoken communication, they were both trying to consider what their best move would be to aid the besieged posse below. They were not aware that Carver was no longer at their side.