It was late afternoon when Chance finished his chores and the writing imposition his sister had left for him. He was eager to meet with some of the local boys whose acquaintance he had made. One boy, Willie Taylor had told him that they hung out near the creek on hot afternoons- he should come and join them for a swim. Chance was a quiet boy, refined, brought up in a city amongst the gentry, but he was not shy. He knew that if he were to fit in here then he would have to prove himself in a different way than on the sport field or the schoolroom. These boys were friendly but looked at him with a curious eye; his city clothes, his manners and the way he spoke set him apart from the others and with boys of that age, difference could soon become distance if they decided you were not up to scratch.

Changing into an old pair of cord pants and a checked shirt, slipping a cap onto his head, he ran out of the side door and down the street out of town, heading for the creek. It was about a mile away but Chance was a strong well-formed boy, a runner who had excelled himself on the track as well as in cross country runs, so, despite the heat of the day, he covered the distance easily. His face was beginning to lose its northern pallor and there were already golden lights in his nut brown hair. As he ran, he loosened his shirt and ran bare-chested, the sun beating down on his young muscles. By the time he reached the water, he was red faced, panting and sweaty.

"Hey, that you, Chance? Strip off and jump in...you look like you got a rattler on your tail!" The others laughed and he grinned. They were simple boys, healthy farm stock, not much learning and heading to join their fathers on the land or working stock. Chance threw off his shirt and kicked off his boots, pulling down his pants and drawers and stepping out. He felt a little embarrassed to be naked before others but they seemed unconcerned, were all in the same state, running about, flinging themselves in the water or swinging off a rope hanging from a tree branch.

The water was cold and he shivered. Stroking strongly he swam over to the others and joined them.

"Where did you learn to swim like that?" Doobie Mathers asked, impressed by his correct style, nothing like the frantic splashing of their self-taught efforts.

"Back East. We used to go down to Maine every summer. I had lessons." The others looked at each other.

"Would you show us how it's done?" Willie sat on a rock and swung his legs. 

"Sure thing." With that, the lesson began with Chance instructing them confidently and surprising himself both at their aptitude and his success with them. It made him feel good that they admired him and he was determined to show them that he was no city slicker but a real straight up boy. It didn't take much. An hour or so later, they were all firm friends. Lying in the sun, drying off and eating slices of fruit cake that Jody Evans had snatched from the larder washed down by cold creek water, they stared at the sky and talked.

"What's it like in Boston?"

"Not like this. It's cold and it's all streets and houses. Different," Chance answered.

"Which do you like best?' Willie asked.

"Don't rightly know. Some good and some bad everywhere, I guess."

"Ain't that a fact," Jody nodded sagely, the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Got a lot of girls back East?" Doobie  added thoughtfully.

"I guess. It's a big city. Lots of girls," Chance replied.

"You ever kissed a girl?" Doobie added.

Chance pulled a face. "No, sir. What for? Girls are so dumb. I ain't never getting hitched."

The other boys laughed and rolled over. "Who said hitched? He said kissed. Thought city girls were easy. Down here their Mas watch them like hawks. No chance. Reckon its either you get wed or you go to the whorehouse. That's what I intend to do when I'm sixteen. March right in, put my money down and say "I want me a woman!" The others began to laugh, Chance blushed.

"Whorehouse? You'd go there? You wouldn't be scared?"

"What's to be scared? My money's as good as those cowpokes that go there. Leastways the girls there know what's what. They can show if you don't know how. They do it all, ya know? Whatever you want." Doobie shook his head and whistled at the thought.

"How do you know what you want?" Willie asked. Chance was glad he wasn't the only one thinking that. He listened carefully but plucked at a blade of grass, trying to look knowledgeable, laughing at the other boy's ignorance.

"Do you know about the birds and the bees? Do you even know where to put it? Jeez, you get what you pay for. They will jerk you off, let ya fuck them or you can stick it in their mouths- depends how much money you got. My brother Ethan, he told me all about it. Said they even let you stick it up their ass or you can watch two girls getting frisky, but that costs more."

The other three listened wide-eyed. Chance had a vague idea but this was more than he had bargained for. Mouth? He rolled onto his front and prayed he wouldn't embarrass himself. He thought of his sister and what she would have to say if she heard such a thing. Slipping into the water, he swam over to the other side and left them to it for a while, sinking below the surface and wetting his hair again. But images kept flitting across his brain much as he willed them away.  Returning to the others, he found them jerking off in concert. Chance turned his back. Life sure was different in the country than back home.

Later, dressed and cool, the conversation turned to shooting. All the boys had their own rifles and they had brought them with them. As the afternoon turned to evening, they set up targets and began to start taking pot-shots. "Want a turn, Chance?" Jody asked.

Chance shook his head. "My sister won't allow me to fire a gun. She says it's an uncivilised way of living."

The three boys jeered. "Your sister? What she know? Man can't shoot out here, he's in trouble. Say you see a rattler?"

He thought about that. It was different here. The city had one set of rules and this place had another. "Maybe. I don't know how anyways. I never tried."

"Let's show you. You showed us the strokes." The three friends gathered round and started instructing him in the basics of shooting a rifle while Chance listened entranced. There was something about the look of the gun and the feel of the metal in his hands that aroused him, almost like the talk about girls had done. Plucking up the courage, he raised the rifle as he had seen them do and looked down the barrel at the target. His finger squeezed back gently...

Cort heard the shots as he rode back towards town. Leading his horse off the track, he picked his way over in the direction of the creek, following the sound. It seemed harmless enough, just someone shooting target, but he thought he would check it out. You never knew.

There were four local boys, three he knew, the other was a stranger. No, wait...it was the Johnson boy, the brother of the lady reporter who was starting up the newspaper. He was the boy shooting, pointing the rifle and aiming. Cort watched him and noticed something in his stance. The boy was relaxed and loose, concentrated and determined, but there was a calm quality about him. Usually young boys postured or rushed to show off to their friends but not this boy. Intrigued, Cort leant on the pommel of his horse and watched. The boy fired, handled the recoil quite well, but his shot passed wide of the mark. But not by much.

"Hey, good try! You need to adjust. Allow for the kick," Cort shouted over and the four boys turned round.

They looked embarrassed as if they thought he would be angry with them.

"Don't mind me. I was just watching. Practice away. No harm done. See you around, boys." They nodded as he turned and rode away.

"Sheriff's the fastest gun in the West- did you know that, Chance? People say he's killed a hundred men- most shot right between the eyes. Used to ride with John Herod's gang till he found Jesus and gave it up. Wish I could see him in action!" Doobie exclaimed with more than a hint of hero worship in his voice.

"My sister says that the law of the gun is the shame of the West," Chance answered.

"Like she knows anything? Men like Cort, they made the West. Can't stop progress. Can't stop the best man winning." Willie observed. They returned to their shooting. Chance sat on a rock and watched them, his mind turning with the new thoughts of the day. Life sure was different down in Arizona.

It was dark in his room but, despite the lateness of the hour and the bone weariness of his body, sleep would not come. Cort tossed and turned on his bed in the small, spartan room at the back of the sheriff's office, staring at the ceiling, one hand beneath his head, the other flung out wide. He knew what was the matter with him. For so long he could go without and then suddenly the urge seized him; the flesh crying out for what was wrong and sinful. A long time ago, he had tried to turn to the celibate life but it had always been a trial; since Ellen broke his reserve more than a year ago, he had faltered several times.

Nights like this she came to him, the memory of that one night together in the bordello.  How he had tried to stop himself and asked for God to guide him, but he had known from the moment she had dragged him out of that room where it would end. His mouth could almost taste hers, his skin crawled with the memory of her soft flesh pressed against him as he had gripped her tight buttocks and hauled her to him. A grunt escaped his lips as he envisioned again the moment he had entered her.

Rolling over, he tried to force the evidence of his erection down, burying his head in the bolster - but another image burned. She was kneeling and her beautiful mouth was wrapped round his cock...

Cort threw back the covers and staggered over to the tin basin where he usually shaved. Pouring in some cold water, he dashed it over his face and clenched his fists. There was nothing else for it. Thrusting on his clothes, he slipped out onto the street and made his way to the bordello, its lights still shining even though it was almost midnight. Inside, he bought a whisky and tossed it down before leaning back against the bar and looking about him. There were few people left in the saloon; the bartender was cleaning up for the night. All the girls seemed occupied upstairs.

"You want another, sheriff, or did you come for something else?" Horace asked quietly.

"Anyone free?" Cort muttered into his second glass.

"I'll sort you out...give me a few minutes..." Horace disappeared upstairs and then reappeared with a familiar face. Mattie. Sweetest girl there. She was fastening up her robe while Horace was helping a man down the back stairs. Cort grimaced at the thought of going in on some other man's leavings. But what did he expect? How many men did these girls fuck a day?

She leaned over the banister and smiled, inclining her head to tell him to come join her. He picked up the bottle and made his way up the stairs, half eager, half disgusted with himself. This curse. His mortal flesh. But at least the girl would be well treated and paid for it and he was hurting no innocent. He took some consolation from that.

"Wait. I need to wash first. Just wait in my room, honey..." He stepped in and sat down on a chair, leaning his head back against the wall trying to ignore the rumpled bed and the stale smell of sweat and semen that hung in the air. He uncorked the whisky with his teeth and drank a swig, grimacing as the rough spirit burned his throat, but taking some courage from its kick.

"Fresh and new," Matilda 'Mattie' Silk breezed back in, her douche completed. She smiled at him and recognised his unease. Cort had been here before and she knew that he hated to resort to whores. But then he had no women and a fine man like him shouldn't be using his right hand when he had the price of a girl in his pocket. "Come here, baby. Come and lay your head down with me..."

He was always gentle and courteous, although Mattie knew he had deeper desires that he kept in check. She could see it in his haunted eyes. Stripping him and laying him back, she nestled down and gave him her mouth, loving the strong clean cock and the heavy dark balls thick with chestnut hair. He was a beautiful man and Mattie couldn't understand why he didn't find himself a wife.

His eyes were closed and he murmured soft and low as she tended him, his hands stroking back her hair, his natural sensuality so evident. When he was hard and ready, she came to lie by him and he shifted, rolling over her and entering slowly and tenderly, nipping at her ears and searching for her mouth with his.  She never kissed men usually - but she made an exception for Cort. She imagined that she wasn't a well-used whore, that this was her man and wondered what fantasy played out behind his green eyes as they came together in that night.

Cort never asked for anything more than this. He would find his release and then curl up around her and sleep- she often wondered if this was not really what he wanted. It seemed that he simply wanted the touch of a woman in his lonely nights, a body to cling to in the dark and a sweet sleepy love-making at dawn.

He rose from the bed and slipped into his pants; it was early and the morning sun was already creeping along the window. Stepping out onto the balcony, he stretched and felt a sort of contentment. His body was rested and the beast was stilled. Mattie joined him and handed him a cup of strong coffee, he smiled and thanked her. Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out a few notes and placed them in her hand. "Thank you, Mattie. Thank you, honey..."

She blushed. "I'd do it for free, Cort. You're not like the others..."

He shook his head. "I'm just like the others, except a whole lot worse. You take your money and make me feel like an honest man. Don't give it away, honey. You're worth more than that..."

At that Mattie jumped up and hugged his back as he stared out over the small town and sipped the coffee. "Cort, why don't you find a woman of your own? You shouldn't have to come here!"

He chuckled sadly. "You making me an offer, sweetheart?"

Mattie sighed. "Much as I would love to be your girl, I wouldn't shame you with that. You deserve a decent woman, not a horse that's been ridden by every man in town."

He turned round and held her to him. "I'm not fit to lick your boots, darlin'. I wouldn't ask any woman to take on my soul. But thank you for the offer. Much appreciated, Ma'am." With that he returned to the room and finished dressing to leave quietly and slip down the back stairs to the side entrance. He didn't want his private moments to be the day's news in town. As he exited, he all but bumped into Miss Johnson hurrying along with a basket of provisions. One look told him she knew where he had been all night. Her sharp disapproving nod as she hurried on cut him to the quick, although he wasn't sure why. What did her opinion of him matter? He knew she wouldn't approve of him whatever, not a fine city lady, educated and all, never mind if she knew even half of the truth about his life. But it still hurt to be looked on like that. Like he was a dirty beast who couldn't control himself. Even if he was.

Doc Wallace called in the last patient for the day as he checked his watch. It was three- thirty and he was looking forward to closing up and settling down with the new book by Mr. Dickens that he had received in the post. His mind was still taken with that when a slight cough brought back his attention and he looked up to see the young woman before him.

"Mrs...Johnson, is it? Please sit down. How can I help?"

Hope smiled. "Miss Johnson. I'm a spinster. I didn't come here for a consultation, doctor. I wanted to ask you something about the town. I suppose I'm asking you for an appointment or if you could spare me a few minutes of your valuable time to help my research. You know I'm an author as well as a newspaper journalist..?" Hope filled him in with the details of her intended plans and he listened carefully."...So, you see, I would be grateful for any little stories of the town before the events that made it famous. I'm particularly interested in the sheriff. He is one of the few men from Herod's gang to have survived the turnaround and from what I have heard he himself has undergone quite a metamorphosis..."

"He has indeed, Ma'am. Cort was once the worst of a bad bunch but I've known him since he was a young boy and, there was always something about him. Can't put my finger on it. Behind his eyes he was watching and learning but thinking, too. Herod bent him out of shape but he worked his way to the light. I respect that in a man. Shows integrity. Innate goodness. Fine man, saved this town."

Hope nodded and smiled. "I'm sure you are right. But I would like more of a picture of him when he was still a lawbreaker. That will help me show the extent of his remarkable salvation. The religious aspect will be a stirring moral for the readers. Even the worst man can be saved if he but believes."

The old doctor rested back in his chair and folded his hand across his chest, his mind back in the days when fear had ruled this lawless town. "He was capable of anything. Saw him gun men down in the street and simply step over them and walk away. They'd challenge him and he'd never answer. Just stand stock still, breathing slow and watch. Minute they went for their gun- they were dead. Every time. Never saw one sign of remorse on his face..."

"But they were fair fights, however distasteful. He broke no law if he was drawn upon.  What about his other activities? Some say he was a bank robber, a renegade, an outlaw with a price on his head." Hope paused, willing the doctor to feed her with the poison that she sought.

But he shook his head. "Can't say I know anything about that. If he was- it was in other towns - Herod never brought that side of things here. I heard stories but they might be false- and I don't want to ruin his name. Cort don't deserve that now." He was adamant. She knew she would get no further with that line of inquiry. But Hope had other tricks in her arsenal. She tried one.

"I believe he was once quite a ladies' man, so they say. Broke a few hearts..." Hope smiled knowingly. "The female readers do go for this angle, you know?"

The doctor tutted. "He was a terror for the ladies. The girls in the bordello loved him- he could always be sure of a free ride there, if you'll pardon the expression. Left a few of them in the way, you know? They used to confide in me...I helped the poor women out. But his real taste was for decent woman. And they went for him, too. Real decent women, from good families who would never have behaved like that with anyone else. But he had a way with him. He just looked at them and they came running. Never understand it. He used them and threw them aside. Couple of the young kids in these parts are sporting green eyes...I delivered those babies and I know they weren't their Daddies' seed. But, no one dared take him on. Don't know what happened behind closed doors though- most of the families moved away. 'Cept for the Turner family. Now that was a tragedy." The old man sighed at the memory.

"Turner? What happened there?" Hope asked and Doc Wallace sank into the past as old men love to do, and the events of that fateful summer poured out.

"It was about seven, eight years ago. Town was fairly settled, before the worst of Herod's excesses and there were still some decent people trying to make a living here. Robert Turner arrived to run the Western Union Office- young fella, down from Abilene. Bright as a button. Fresh faced, good-looking boy. People thought he was about eighteen but he was older- just looked young. Brought his young wife with him...what a little peach she was. Maudie. They'd been married two weeks when they arrived- Lord, did they look a pair of sweethearts! Billing and cooing, holding hands, made you smile to see them. Way it should be. I reckoned she'd be in any day telling me she was in the family way..." Doc laughed to himself at the memory. "Couple of months after they arrived, there was a big Mexican fiesta. Feast day or something. Whole town turned out to watch the parade and the dancing...

...The afternoon was hot and sticky- June and not a breeze of air. Maudie Turner sat on the stoop of the office and waved a fan before her face. A few little Mexican children sat at her feet and explained to her, in their mixture of Spanish and English, what was happening when the statue was carried past and the procession wound its way to the little adobe chapel. Behind came the carnival and the dancers and musicians already working the throng for the fiesta proper.

The streets were crowded and noisy, innocent laughter mixed with the louder guffaws of men who had already drunk too much beer in the cantina or the saloon. Across the street the saloon girls were hanging from the windows, hooting at men and displaying their wares. It embarrassed Maudie to think what they were selling. Since her marriage, she now knew what passed between a man and a woman and it seemed even more shameful than her earlier imaginings for women to sell that intimacy to all comers.

As she raked her eyes across the frontage of the bordello, she suddenly realised that she was being watched herself. On the veranda at the front, leaning over the rail with a cigar in his mouth, was a young man. His light eyes burned through her. Maudie looked away and felt her cheeks burn, but she knew his eyes were still on her. Conscious now of herself, she sat up straighter and jammed her knees closer together. Her hand flew to her throat where she had loosened a few dress buttons against the heat of the day- she fastened them up and swept a hand across her yellow curls, catching stray ones and smoothing them back into her topknot.

But, it was impossible to stop her eyes drifting again and she stole a glance to see if he was still there. He was. In his left hand was a glass of beer, in his right the cigar and he was smiling, a cool smile of awareness, as if he had read into her soul. His right hand raised the glass in salute and then he quaffed it down, his throat, stubbled with beard, contracting as he swilled the cold liquid. Maudie shivered and she didn't know why.

The man was in his twenties, hard to say exactly how old for his unkempt beard and his long chestnut hair obscured much of his features. He was tall but not excessively so, rangy, but his shoulders and chest were broad, on the edge of burly if not for the narrow hips and shapely thighs encased in tight black trousers. Maudie noticed the guns, expensive silver guns, thrust into a low slung brown leather holster, chiselled with intricate artwork. She knew such things cost money.

A blush stole across her features as she noticed something that had never occurred to her before. It was his groin. She couldn't help but see the swell, framed by the leather belt where his manhood rested awkwardly, bulging to the right, no attempt to hide what was in his pants. It made her gasp and then she found herself looking at other men and seeing no such evidence there. What did it mean? Was he in a state of embarrassment? But she didn't think so- the bulge was soft, if large, not hard and poking like when Bobbie wanted to do it. She always called their marriage rights "it". It was something she still felt strange about.

Maudie had loved Bobbie Turner since she was ten years old and he had been her elder brother's friend, five years her senior, and the sweetest and most handsome boy in town. From then, they had been sweethearts and were courting as soon as her father had allowed. It was all she had ever wanted in life - to be Bobbie's wife and the mother of his children. So, at the ripe old age of eighteen she had walked down the aisle and had her dream come true.

It was a dream. Bobbie was so courteous and loving, had good prospects and was liked by everyone. She was so proud to walk down the street on his arm and when he kissed her, she thought her heart would skip a beat. After the wedding, they had stayed at the station hotel, in a real fine room and shared a bed for the first time. Bobbie had never, ever tried to be improper with her for all the years they had known each other. That night she had been shy as she removed her clothes and let him see her for the first time. He had been excited and overwhelmed, had confided that he had never had a girl before but that he had read a book to help him-  and then he had stripped.

Oh Lord! Maudie still remembered her shock and dismay at the sight of her boy unclothed. That thing between his legs! But she had said nothing and let him hold her and do what he must. It hurt a little that first time but after that she didn't mind much. It was a small thing to give him for all he gave to her. And she had come to love lying in his arms as he shuddered helplessly into her, gasping and moaning his thanks and love. It made her feel like a woman should- giving to her man and easing his needs. That's what her mother had said. "Bobbie's a good boy. He won't make demands on you. Let him have his needs when he must and take care of him. Men are like that. You'll soon have his baby and he won't bother you much then. You'll see."

Ma was right. Once or twice a week, Bobbie asked her if he might have 'some love' as he called it and she always said yes, apart from the times she was indisposed. No baby yet, but that was bound to change once they were more settled. Perhaps they needed to do it more often? Maudie wasn't sure how many times it took to make a baby. She wondered if she ought to ask the doctor but it didn't seem right to talk about such things.

He was still there. Another quick look and he was now leaning on the wall of the bordello, his arms folded across his chest. His eyes were still on her. As hers met his, he willed her not to look away, caught her gaze and fixed it. Then he did two things that shocked young Mrs. Turner to the core. First, he licked his lips real slow, in a way that she could not understand but instinctively knew was not a proper thing to do. Secondly he lowered his right hand to his groin and appeared to cup his manhood, jerking his hips forward at the same time. It reminded her of the rocking motion that Bobbie made when he was doing it...With horror and revulsion she looked away from this crude man and tried to drive the image from her head but to no avail. It seemed burned on her eyes.

The next time she looked he was gone and she felt a sinking sense of disappointment. Suddenly the day seemed to have lost its sparkle; the fiesta was tawdry and the entertainments dreary. Shortly after she excused herself and went back to the rooms above the office where she lived with Bobbie and lay down on their bed for a nap. But sleep did not come to her. The image of the man and the thought of what he was suggesting with his lewd gesture still managed to excite a sordid curiosity in her body. Something was different but she could not quite fathom what it was. Why did his glance make her feel this way?

"You were quiet this evening at dinner, darlin'.  You tired tonight?" Bobbie asked as she sat before the dresser later that evening and brushed out her curls before retiring for the night. He was standing there in his combinations, folding his pants carefully before hanging them on the rail. He was always so careful with his clothes. Maudie looked at his reflection and at the small roundness between his legs. She felt a mild feeling of disappointment.

"A little. It was a hot day. Too much sun, I guess." She smiled as he walked up and bent to kiss her neck.

"Only I was wondering...tonight would you let me..." He rarely finished that sentence but she knew what he meant. With a gentle smile she stood up and turned to receive his kiss. Bobbie steered her to the bed and they lay down side-by-side. He covered her with a blanket and ran his hand up her leg to touch her naked thigh. His head, he buried in her breast as she opened the front of her nightgown and let him suckle. Holding his head in her hands, she soothed him as he entered her and then began to rock until he found his relief and the warm wetness flowed from her down onto the sheet beneath. He rolled away, thanked her with a kiss and was soon asleep. Maudie lay awake and stared at the ceiling. Would he feel like that? Would that stranger's body be as weak and fragile as Bobbie seemed in her arms? For the first time she wondered if Bobbie might not be doing things right. Was that why she was not having a baby? Did other men know other things to make a woman feel...something?

I'd like to send a telegram, Ma'am" Maudie's head shot up as the stranger addressed her. He was in the office, standing right before her and actually talking to her. She felt her cheeks flush red and she looked down only to find herself staring into the groin that she had been thinking about for days. Her cheeks reddened deeper and she covered her confusion by turning away.

"A telegram, Ma'am?" 

She passed him a piece of paper and a pencil.  "Just...write your message there. Then I'll send it for you..." Maudie did not even raise her eyes to his, so she missed the smirk that came over his face. He scribbled the words on the paper and Maudie saw his large calloused hands and the thick fingers grasping the pencil. It made her shudder.

At that moment she saw him push the sheet across the counter towards her; she noticed that his hands were clean, the nails pared down rather than bitten. It surprised her. Picking up the sheet, she glanced over it and turned to hand it to her husband at the telegraph. What she saw written on the paper, however, made her freeze with shock.

I want to meet you. You choose the time and place. We need to talk.  

"Is this a joke?" Maudie whispered. The stranger grinned and shook his head.

"It needs an answer. Yes or No?"

"NO!" Maudie whispered emphatically enough for her husband to look over from the mail he was sorting.

"You sure?" The man asked, a dark hypnotic look on his face.

"Of course, I'm sure!" Maudie returned.

"Then I'll just wait out the back until you're free to see me. Don't take long, honey, I'm a busy man." And with that he tipped his hat and walked out of the door, bold as you please. Maudie crumpled up the paper and thrust it into the pocket of her dress.

"What did he want?" Bobbie asked.

Maudie shrugged. "To send a telegram but he forgot the name of the recipient."

"Surprised he can read and write. Know who that was? Cort- one of the sheriff's 'boys'. They reckon he's a killer- shot more than thirty men on the street in gunfights. Real evil. You keep away from him. Next time he comes in, hand him over to me, honey. I'll deal with him."

Maudie looked at Bobbie, his fine, almost girlish features on his smooth hairless face suddenly appearing boyish and unattractive. Again she had the feeling of mild disappointment. Deal with this man? Deal with Cort? How in God's name could Robert Turner deal with such a man?

"I'm just going out for a while, Bobbie. I need to go and get something from the store." The first lie. So easily tripping off her tongue.

He was leaning against the wall of the building opposite in the narrow alleyway between the buildings. As she stepped out onto the sun-drenched street, he slid off the wall and inclined his head in the direction of a doorway near him. Opening it, he stood back and held his hand out. Maudie looked around, saw no one and went inside. It was a storeroom belonging to the General Mercantile, full of barrels of feed and farming implements. Cort leaned on the door, barring the exit and said nothing; Maudie looked about her and wondered what on earth had made her come to him.

"I better go." She mumbled and stood before him, indicating that she wished him to move from the door.

"We haven't talked."

"Talk? I have nothing to talk to you about."

"Then why you here?"

Maudie blushed and stepped back but he was too fast. His hand snaked out and he caught her round the waist, pulling her in close. "You're here because you want me. I saw you looking. You want me, honey, and I want you. Think about it. You gonna spend some time with me or die wondering? Don't you want to know if what I can give you is better than what your man gives out?" His words were whispered into her ear, a deep low rumble of promise. She felt her heart pound and blood rush to her head; her body loosened and felt moist and uncomfortable. Sweat seemed to leak between her legs and trickle down her thighs.

"I don't know what you mean!" she protested, pushing against his chest vainly, trying to think, breathe, understand.

His hand came to the nape of her neck and he leant to kiss her. His warm breath blew gently on her lips and then he nipped at her top lip; she whimpered, tried to pull away, but he held her firm. His teeth claimed her bottom lip, another nip, and then his lips on hers, soft and fleshy, a hint of apples on his tongue, the smell of cigars on his breath. Before she could even react, his tongue pushed through the gap in her lips and he kissed her deep and sensuously, his tongue playing with hers and roaming around inside her mouth as if seeking something. Maudie had never been kissed so crudely and it seemed a disgusting thing to do but yet she was not able to break the spell. In fact her arms slipped around his strong neck and she returned his invasion, tasting his lips and pushing into his mouth.

Her head fell back and he stroked her bare neck, licking down and sucking lightly at her throat; she panted like a frightened victim, helpless in the eagle's claws. Cort smiled and nuzzled into her neck, aware that he had broken her resistance and her body was his.

"I'm gonna show you what I mean. You like my kiss? Maudie, you wanna know where I really want to kiss you? You ever been kissed down there? In your secret place? I'm gonna kiss you there, Maudie Turner, and then...you will know what I mean...and you know what you will do then? When my tongue has gone inside your juicy little hole and licked your honey? You are going to get on your knees and put that sweet mouth around my cock. And you are going to beg to do that for me, honey. Just you wait and see..."

His words alone, crude sex talk the like she had never heard before, describing things that she didn't even know men and women did to each other. She should have been ashamed, but something quite different happened. In his arms, his tongue licking her ear as he dripped his erotic honey in her ears, she felt a strange twitching in her core that broke into a rising tide of sensation. Maudie could not have explained what took place as she hung helpless in his grasp or as he placed her small hand on the bulge in his pants, now hard and pressing. Cort had done what her husband never had in all the times he had loved her. She had orgasmed even before he touched her intimately. And once that had happened, her fate was sealed.

Where there is a will, there is a way and Maudie Turner was living proof of that. The next afternoon, she told her husband that she was visiting a sick friend and slipped away to the creek where Cort had told her he would be waiting. He was: leaning against a tree, his hands in his gun belt and his right leg scraping the bark behind him. Maudie saw his horse tethered nearby even before she saw him. Every detail of that afternoon was forever printed on her mind.

The air was still and heavy, the heat of approaching midsummer wrapped like a thick wool blanket. A relentless sun set in a bright blue, cloudless sky beat without mercy on the dry cracked earth and the water of the creek lay low. Even the air smelt of heat, that earthy, dusty scent that peppers the throat and stings the eyes. It was so hot that heads felt muzzy and brains refused to think clearly. Sweat oozed out of every pore; armpits carried a telltale stain, clothes stuck to backs and underwear felt uncomfortable and constricting.

Maudie stepped into the little oasis, a few birds pecking for water, insects buzzing, feeling clammy and awkward. The cold water of the creek beckoned; she longed to bathe her steamy body beneath the dark serenity of the surface. He stood in what little shade there was, his head slightly shrouded and his features indistinct. All she could see was the pale gleam of his eyes as he watched her pick her way across the stony path over to where he stood.

"Mrs. Turner." He tipped his hat in a mockery of social convention and then lazily slunk forward to stand before her. "You came."

Maudie felt a momentary tide of panic rising in her. She had lain awake half the night remembering the way he had made her feel and then telling herself she would never see the man again. But here she was. Exactly as he knew she would be. Meeting him for an illicit act of physical intimacy. Even as she watched him she could not believe that she was behaving in this way.

Cort held out his hand and beckoned her to take it. With her firmly in his grasp, he led her to a patch of ground behind a clump of trees, set in a hollow. There was a measure of both privacy and shade. He had set a blanket there and, to her surprise, there was some fruit as if he had prepared a picnic. It seemed an unexpected gallantry. He knelt down and she did the same. His hands reached for her hair and he pulled loose the ribbon that held her curls; they tumbled down around her face and he smiled a sudden warm, boyish smile of delight. "My- but you are one pretty lady, Miss Maudie. Baby blue eyes and golden curls. Pink pouty little lips and a cute turned up nose. You know what that does to a man like me?"

Before she could answer, he reached forward and captured her lips in a deep kiss, moaning soft and low as he tasted her, pulling her body against his as his hands raked down her sides to feel her. Maudie had never known such a sensation as his kiss. It was both gloriously ripe and loving but sinfully lewd; it made her body beat to a whole new rhythm. For long moments he just held her and kissed her; they fell back to the blanket and his large body covered her tiny one as he continued to feed on her honey lips and touch her clothed body with his big rough hands. It felt like paradise in his arms.

All at once he pulled away and leant on one arm looking at her with a smouldering intensity. "I want you, Maudie. I want you now. Take off your clothes. Let me see every part of you." She rose as if in a dream and slowly unbuttoned her neat floral print dress and slipped it off her shoulders. He bent forward and unlaced her boots so that she could step out of them while he rolled down her stockings and pulled them off to kiss each foot upon the sole as he did so. Her fingers trembled as she untied the ribbons on her petticoat and opened the camisole top to reveal her breasts. They were white with dark pink nipples, full and round- she was dainty but voluptuous. She saw his smile at the sight of them and watched as his tongue unconsciously peeked from his lips.

Dropping the petticoat at her feet, she went for the drawstring of her bloomers. He stopped her hand and untied them himself, whispering "Slowly...drop them slowly..." and she did as he asked, easing them gently down from her waist, to reveal her round white belly, the dark-golden thatch of her curls and the plump pale thighs. Then she let it go. All the while, she felt nervous and uncomfortable. She was aware that she was perspiring and her clothes had felt sticky; she was sure she could smell herself, ripe and strong, despite the bath she had taken and the lavender she had anointed. Would he be offended by her?

Cort lay back and gazed at the little honey before him. She was like a dimpled lady on a dirty post card, the kind that men showed round in saloons and jerked off to when they were alone on the prairie. He liked to savour the treat, almost as good as a virgin, a shy young bride whose pitiful excuse for a man could do nothing more than fumble under the blankets at night. He wanted to show her it all, make her hot for it, see this fine little lady on her knees and giving it out like a two bit whore. Fine ladies. Decent folk. He loved to make them pay for something he couldn't remember they had done to him.

"So pretty. Open your legs, darlin'. Let me see how ready you are." Maudie gasped at his request, unsure exactly how he meant her to stand. He put out his hand and trailed a forefinger between her legs. She felt the slick wetness and grew even more ashamed. In shock, she saw him withdraw the finger, glistening with her juice and then raise it to his lips. He tasted it and groaned. "Maudie, your cunt tastes like wild honey. I'm gonna have me a real feast."

Cort stood before her and toed off his boots. Transfixed she watched him. His thick fingers pulled at the buttons of his worn shirt and he shrugged it from him. Next he unfastened his gun belt and threw it on the ground. Finally he unbuttoned his pants and pulled them off, hopping slightly to remove the last leg. Maudie gasped as his manhood was revealed, bobbing and swaying, half erect, as he ripped off his trousers.

"C'mon...lie down, honey..." His hand reached out and dragged her down beside him until they were lying side by side on the old blanket. Leaning on one elbow, unconcerned at his own nudity, from which she could not draw her eyes, he gently ran his left hand over her body, cupping her breasts and exploring her. With a sudden sigh, he rolled over and began to kiss her, deep, tongue- thrusting kisses, while he rubbed himself against her thigh and ran a finger along her vagina until he found his entrance.

Maudie gasped as he pushed it in and began to work it round, using his thumb to rub the knot of nerves that tingled and burnt. Her head began to swim and she heard herself crying out as he buried his head into her bosom and suckled roughly on her nipples. Like the day before, she felt the rise of sensation, fire in her belly, wetness between her legs and a desperate need for more of him, making her cry out louder and shout, "Touch me, more, oh Lord. More!"

Another finger and her world exploded, lights dancing before her eyes and her whole body pulsing with a fierce pleasure. Time hovered; the blue sky surrounded her and heat and sweat permeated her. She realised that she was lying panting in his arms, her legs spread wide and her back arched. Cort was nestled in her groin, lapping at her, making her already sensitive flesh shudder with his assault.

She watched him rise, face wet with her, his eyes beginning to cloud with his own desire. Kneeling before her he showed himself to her, grasping his thick, erect cock and stroking it, pulling back the skin and letting her see the oozing tip as he pleasured himself.

"You ever seen a cock like mine, honey?" he muttered hoarsely. Maudie shook her head in silent amazement.

"I've seen a...one of them... but...I don't think it was so...Lord, Cort...it's so big. You will hurt me with that...I'm scared..."

"Your old man never showed you his? Here hold it. See if it feels the same..." he grinned and grabbed her hand, circling it beneath his own and using it to work himself further.

"Suck it...go on ,baby...taste me...you'll like it...just you see...." Shivering even in the heat of the day, she let him lie down and she crawled to him, grasping the cock and then licking the hot purple tip. The pungent salty taste of man both repelled and attracted her, its earthy scent vaguely familiar. A few drops of his essence oozed on to her tongue and she felt a momentary nausea before her rising passion swept her away in the moment. As she struggled to suckle on this bewildering man, he slowly and methodically shunted his hips back and forth and stimulated himself between her soft lips, a slow smile of pleasure on his face. Fuck, but she was a pretty girl, and had the softest pinkest mouth he had ever had the pleasure of sticking his dick in.

"Hey, hey...you want me to shoot in your mouth, darlin'?" he chided as he eased away and pulled her back down to the ground. "Some other time, sweet girl, I'll give you a taste of my cream another time. First off, I want to show you what a real man feels like..." he rolled her on her back and crawled over her naked body, letting his cock brush over her flesh as he moved upwards. She felt his large body loom above her, his muscles flexing and straining, his thick arms bearing the strain of his weight. His lips came down to steal hers as he kissed her deep and wet, his knee parted her legs and she felt his first thrusting motion. For a second she panicked. What was she doing? This man was not her husband- how could she be doing this? She hardly knew anything about him! But the first push into her dripping hole silenced her doubts. She moaned a raw earthy howl and her head fell back. He pushed again and slipped deeper into her tightness. As her back arched and her legs flailed wildly to find a purchase, he thrust again and hilted deep inside her, his own grunt of pleasure and effort louder even than her frantic cry.

Breaking from her lips, he licked and bit her face and neck, nuzzling against her ear and whispering crude obscenities, words she barely recognised except in some primal part of her nature that knew they were the language of wild and abandoned sexual love. His low husky groans and the girth and length of his pounding cock brought her to the edge of the abyss and together she felt her world whirl and fly, spinning into some orbit of the senses, touch, taste, sound, smell-  all full of this beautiful man.

The shimmering blue of a burning sky flickered as she opened her eyes and found herself back down on the ground and still alive and breathing. Cort was slumped upon her, panting roughly, sweat pumping from him as she shuddered in her arms. For a moment he felt weak and vulnerable as she held him until he came down from the heights. With a sigh, he rolled away and lay back, half on the blanket and half on the dusty, cracked ground, his naked body glistening with natural fluids, his cock still proud and wet with their come. This time she looked at him without embarrassment and marvelled at his sculptured bulk and the majesty of his body.

Rising to a sitting position, he held out his hand and led her down to the water's edge. Jumping in, he sank beneath the surface and then rose up, water running in torrents down him, dripping off his thick hair. He told her to sit by the edge and then, in cupped hands, he washed and cooled her neck, down her back, over her full breasts and slender belly and then he gently prised her thighs apart and washed away the signs of his love, touching her and observing her intimate parts with a gaze so intense that it startled her.

"You shouldn't do that, Cort, it's private..."

"I just fucked you. I can touch you now. Anyway I want..."

"It's dirty, Cort..."

He laughed. "It's pretty. You got a real pretty cunt. They come in all shapes and sizes, ya know? Just like cocks. Yours is the prettiest one I ever saw. Like a rosebud...and I can't send you back to little Bobbie with my leavings still running down your thighs now, can I?"

"I never even heard that word before. Cunt?"

Cort chuckled. "Don't be saying that in polite company, you hear? It's a real bad cuss word. What do you call it?"

"I don't call it anything. My private parts, I suppose. Don't seem so private anymore." He grinned and moved away to swim strongly across the creek as she watched him and then  return to pull himself out and shake off. He looked so male and handsome that she almost clapped her hands together for pleasure. Reaching his hand out, he drew her to the blanket and then went back to retrieve a stoneware jar stuck in some reeds at the water's edge.

"Ginger beer?" It seemed an incongruous politeness after what they had done, but she took a swig thankfully and then accepted the apple that he passed to her and there they sat, naked and satiated, drying off in the hot sun while they munched on apples and supped on ginger. Maudie remembered it ever after as the most perfect day she had ever known; the day she really became a woman.

They saw each other whenever they could- which wasn't often. Cort regularly disappeared for days on end with no explanation and then reappeared just as suddenly, eager for her body. She would check the window a dozen times a day, disappointment overwhelming her if all she saw was the usual street scene. And then one day she would look and he would be there, seated outside the cantina with a glass of whisky and a cigar, soaking up the sun, his hat shading his face as he dozed. She would invent a reason to do some chores and pass his way; Cort would incline his head and mouth a word. 'My place', 'The Creek' or in desperation 'storeroom' and Maudie would obey without question.

She denied him nothing. She risked everything. Sneaking into his small room behind the jailhouse, she would let him do anything he wanted. It amused Cort to see the power he had over her. He had fucked her in every way he knew and then some; she was better than a whore- she enjoyed it and it didn't cost him anything. She even thanked him when he took her up against a wall, shot in her mouth or stuck it up her tight little ass. Best of all she was pretty, clean and someone else's. She couldn't start asking him to "Stay with me, Cort...let me have your babies..." Shit, he had had enough of that. No women was getting a noose round his dick.

Robert Turner wondered at the change in his wife over the next few weeks. She seemed distracted and vacant, often dreaming and seemed to spend more and more time away from the office. Perhaps she was a little bored with this small town. It wouldn't be for long. A few years more and he could apply for one of the city offices and maybe become the manager. Then they would have everything they always dreamed of; it was worth the present sacrifice. What she really needed was a baby to fill her days. He prayed that soon she would fall pregnant and they could become a real family. His heart swelled with pride when he imagined her full of his baby. His beautiful Maudie, innocent and pure. He was a lucky man.

Maudie knew she was pregnant even before she realised that she was late. She just felt differently. Apart from the sensation of nausea and the bruised swollen sensation in her breasts, her whole body just felt as if she was a new person. Who had fathered her baby? In truth, she didn't know - but believed it to be Cort's. Who else? Bobbie had been doing it for months and nothing- Cort struck lucky after a matter of weeks. A man like he was bound to be potent; a woman could smell the virility even before she touched him.

The next time she met him, she planned to tell him. If Cort wanted her, she would run off and leave whenever he said. And she was pretty sure he did. Since they had begun their affair he never went to whores anymore - he had told her that- and he seemed so affectionate, so loving, so lusty when she was with him. It must be love- he was just too tough a man to talk in girlish terms and make those kind of declarations.

Her chance came the next week when Bobbie had driven out to an outlying farm with a delivery of some urgent medications. She closed up the office and sent a message to Cort with one of the little Mexican girls. It was just after lunch when she heard the soft tap on the door to their upstairs apartment.

Inside, he looked around, threw down his hat and belt and pulled her onto his knee. She smiled and stroked back his unruly hair; he pulled at the buttons of her blouse and sucked on her neck, whispering crude promises in her ear.

"Wait up, darlin', wait up," she pulled his face up to hers but he took little notice, snapping at her mouth and running his hand up her skirt to pull down her bloomers. "No! You just stop right there and listen!" she reprimanded him with a teasing slap. Cort sighed and pulled back.

"Make it quick. I got me a horn here that is beginning to hurt...I need some soft, wet loving..."

Maudie grinned and massaged his swollen groin. She adored him. He was so crude and demanding but romantic and passionate all at the same time. He'd get his desires soon enough.

"I have a secret to tell you. A very special secret. About you and me. Something's happened to me, Cort. Something pretty amazing..."

Cort suddenly froze, every instinct on high alert. He knew full well what was coming. "What? You knocked up?" He muttered coarsely.

"Knocked up?" She repeated, unsure what he meant.

"You telling me you got a brat in your belly? That the special thing? Jesus Christ!"

Maudie slipped off his knee to stand before him. "What do you mean? What do you expect? We are lovers. You must have realised that this was a possibility...we've made love so many times..."

"We fucked, Maudie. You fucked your old man, too. Don't mean it's mine. Who else you fucked? Jesus Christ, Maudie, don't try to lay this at my door. For all I know every dick in town's been up your cunt."

She gasped at his foul words. "What? Are you mad? I'm in love with you, Cort! This baby is yours. I'll do anything you ask. Run away with you. I don't care. But I want to face the truth. My marriage is over and you and I should be together..."

Cort threw back his head and laughed cruelly, pulling her to him and running his hands up her skirt. "Love? You crazy little whore! You just wanted a real fucking and I just wanted this." He stuck his finger into her vagina crudely, hurting her. "Well, I had it and it was good enough for a while but now I just lost the taste for it." With that he stood up, strapped on his guns and replaced his hat slowly.

Maudie screamed and threw herself before him, holding his legs, begging him to stay with her. He paused to rip her hands from him and then suddenly grinned. Thrusting her back down again, he unfastened his pants and pulled out his dick. "Do it." She scrabbled on her knees to fellate him, crying and whimpering as she sucked and jerked him. He let her, grunting at the perverse pleasure of her stimulation and humiliation.  Just as he was about to come he pulled her head away, she looked up in surprise and he came all over her face and hair, jerking himself roughly and abusing her verbally. Maudie gagged at his action, Cort grinned back and buttoned up.

"No sense in wasting my chances, hey? Now keep out of my way, or next time, I won't be so gentle with you..." With that he was gone.

Staggering to her feet, she poured water and endeavoured to clean herself up, shuddering at his violence and abuse. She was pregnant with his baby- how could he degrade her in that way? Rubbing at her face and hair she shuddered and sobbed. What was she going to do?

There was only one choice. She had a husband and she was with child. He would not be the first man to be raising another man's baby. And it might be his anyway- there was always the chance that it was. It was a nightmare scenario but the only way she had of holding her head up now.

But what of Cort? How would she go on without him? Maudie threw herself back on her bed and stared at the ceiling. He was not what she had thought, though God knows she loved him. But he had used her like a whore and now was casting her aside. It felt like her heart would break at his cruelty and callous disregard. But she should have known right from the start that he was nothing but an evil man, every sign was there. How had she allowed herself to be so fooled? Had it been love or just her lust, as he had said? It had felt like love, it had felt like passion, and now she faced a life of loneliness and loss, tied to a marriage that bored her and a man who could never fulfil her needs. But she had the child. At least she had the child...

"...So, she conducted a passionate affair with him in a one horse town like this and no one knew?" Hope asked, incredulously.

Doc Wallace sighed. "Everyone knew. "Cept her husband. He was too young, naïve and in love. He didn't want to know. She came to me and I examined her. She was pregnant, no doubt, and I said nothing. Kept her secret."

Hope clenched her fists and then pretended to jot something down on the page to hide her rising anger. "She had the child and brought it up as another man's. Is she still here or did they move away?"

The old man shook his head. "That ain't the end of the story, I'm afraid. Couple of days later, Cort got drunk and walked into the Western Union one afternoon. They say Maudie was terrified. He was abusive and laughing. Told young Bobbie Turner that he had fathered his wife's child. Said she'd been his whore for weeks. It was a cruel thing to do. Mrs. Turner, she ran off in tears and the young man, he just cried. I reckon Cort felt bad, got all hooched up and lost it. Some think he wanted Turner to pull a gun on him. Even in that state he would have killed him."

"What did happen?" Hope whispered, praying that the story did not turn out like the idea forming in her head.

"She drowned herself in the creek. Found her body before nightfall. Young Bobbie couldn't stand it. Day of the funeral he put a gun to his head over her grave. Buried next to her. Out there in the graveyard." The room fell silent, both of them lost in thought. A bee buzzed around lazily and then swooped out of the open window onto the hot empty street. Time seemed to stop still; what further comment could be said?

"And this is the man that the people of this town regard as a saint? My God, you have short memories." Hope could not keep the tone of utter disgust from her voice.

Doc frowned and took a drink of water from a glass. "You don't understand...he was different...a man can change...that's what I'm trying to say...he put it right. Won people's respect..."

Hope stood up and stretched out her hand. "Thank you, Doctor Wallace, you've been a great help. I apologise for taking so much of your valuable time." They shook hands and the handsome woman left his surgery but the doctor was ill at ease. That wasn't quite what he had wished to say. He wasn't sure how his original point had been lost in the tale. There was something else that was niggling him. His memory was not what it had used to be these days but he still had the strangest feeling that he had seen the young woman before. But he couldn't for the life of him think where.

Outside Hope Johnson breathed deeply and composed herself, trying to wipe the taste of the unpleasant reminiscence from her mouth. Across the street, she saw the same man whose profligacy had taken three lives, one clearly his own flesh and blood, for no real purpose but his own lust. He caught her eye, tapped his hat and smiled over. She turned away sharply and made her way back to the office. Cort frowned. He wasn't sure why this woman was so hostile to him. What had he done to annoy her in this way?