“Alright,” I called out, “Hurry up you two, I want to lock up soon.”
J..J…Just a moment Ms. Ahna,” Seth said, “S…S…Showing Maggie some adding.”
I did like that Seth was teaching Maggie to add and subtract to help with the store. Katerina had made a proposition to me the other night which surprised me. She enjoyed helping out with the issue Louise Hobbs brought to us. She asked if it was alright to learn about what Lethal Lucie LaChapelle did for a living. I told her if it was alright with Lucie, I was fine with it. Lucie was going to teach her how to really shoot. Now I am a fair shot with my Colt or a rifle, but Lucie was very lethal. And not just from some ways a way with her Winchester. She was good on the draw and had wounded a few in fights. I didn’t know if she ever killed anyone, but that wasn’t the type of questions you ask in polite company. I stepped out the wood planked sidewalk and bumped into the mayor, John Abbott and his blonde wife, Betty, who’s dress was new and showing a considerable amount of her ample bosom.
“Well, pardon me,” I said, Good day to you, mayor, Betty.”
He tipped his hat as Betty nodded to me. “Mrs. Stevens,” John Abbott said, “I heard there was an issues with some of the tax collectors at yours store. They are representatives of the county and they need to be respected. They are here to collect the taxes that are due.”
Betty spoke up, “If you ask me, all the gambling hall and whore saloon taxes need to be raised. Maybe it will get too high and we can run them out of town.” She was also the head of the lady’s civic organization and those old hens hated places their husbands would have fun.
“No one is asking you, Betty,” I curtly replied and she was visibly taken aback, “And Mr. Mayor, when the duly electedsheriff hires known outlaws to do his dirty work, and they accost young women in my store, I will take action.”
Betty fumed because her husband was stuttering trying to reply, “If I had my way, I would tax your little mercantile store a little more.”
“See Betty,” I said, “Every time the taxes go up, you get some new dresses. Maybe someone should be making sure Cochise County is getting their just due.”
Both the mayor and his wife turned a bright shade of red, he tried to answer, “Well… I … I”
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Betty exclaimed at John, “When people make outlandish accusations, I really hope they can back them up.” She stepped closer to me on the sidewalk.
I matched her steps and we were almost touching breasts, “I can and I do back them up, Betty,” I said quietly to her, “Any time that you want to call me a liar, please do. But you might want to have your niece, Bessie Monroe, with you.”
She went wide eyed and I tensed thinking we were going to be tumbling to the dirt street but John Abbott grabbed his wife’s shoulders and pulled her back, walking them down the street, but she glanced behind and glared at me. I just waved.
“You make so many friends, Ahna,” Maggie observed with a smile.
We rode back towards our home. As we got closer, I could hear the sound of pistols firing. I knew Lucie was stopping by to see what she needs to teach Katerina. As Maggie and Seth went towards the house and barn, I peeled off to the fence line. I saw Kat and Lucie with pistols on hips. Lucie carried a pearl handled, silver plated Remington Model 1875. She was standing with her legs spread slightly apart, then her right hand moved fast to her hip, bringing the pistol up with her left palm slapping down over the hammer. The glass bottle sitting on the fence shattered.
“Damn, Lucie,” Katerina said, “That’s another nickel I owe you.” She walked up to where Lucie was and stood in the same way the bounty hunter did. I had purchased Kat a Colt Lighting, chambered with 38 long colt ammo. She had a cross draw rig with the holster sitting on the front of her left hip. She drew with her right and slapped her hand down over the hammer. The gun fired and top of the bottle was shot off. “Damn! Winged it!”
“But so much better,” Lucie said, “The cross draw seems to be better for you, Katerina. It needs to be a smooth movement. You are already a good shot with your Winchester. You have improved so much. I would be comfortable taking you with me.” Katerina beamed at that! “Not on your own, but Mon Cherie, you can go with me any time!” Lucie noticed me and waved.
“Do you want to come up to the house for a drink, Lucie?” I asked riding closer.
“If only I could,” Lucie said with a shake of her head. “I have to ride to Tuscan. There are a few bounties with the railroad I want to see if I can track.”
“My home is open to you anytime,” I said nodding my head, “I am much obliged for what you are doing with Katerina.”
“Oh my pleasure,” Lucie smiled at me, “She is a fast learner.”
Lucie left and Katerina and I rode back to the house. After dinner, Maggie, Kat and I sat in the parlor sipping whiskey.
“So is it true about you and Lisa Simmons?” Katerina asked, “I heard rumblings in town and at the Screeching Cat that you got wupped by that big titted cow.”
“I sure as shit didn’t get wupped,” I answered a little too quickly. I sipped my whiskey and sighed, “But that has been my roughest fight to date.”
“Have you gotten in lots of fights?” Maggie asked with a curious look on her face.
“Too many!” I laughed, “Some were short little ones with fists and hair pulling. But a few were very much like what Lisa and I did to each other.”
“Well,” Katerina said, “We are listening, mama.”
I chuckled thinking back, “Well, back when you were a little girl and we lived in Kansas…..”
In 1878 I was a broken woman. I had recently lost my son as well as my parents and younger sister when a rogue Cherokee war party ambushed the homestead, killing my family and stealing horses. The Army tracked them down and killed most of them, but that changed my outlook at Natives and I became seething with hate towards all of them. My husband Robert didn’t know how to deal with loss of his son, so he took to the bottle. He spent lots of time in different saloons in Dodge City. We barely talked. One day I had enough. I dropped off my daughter Katerina at the school house and took the wagon to the saloon where I saw his horse in front of. I peered over the batwing doors and saw the backside of a woman with hair as black as coal, dressed in lacy undergarments standing in front of him with her right foot on her chair, between his legs. I lost control of my anger and rage and marched in and grabbed the hussy by her high piled hair on her head. I threw her to the sawdust covered floor and pounced on top of her, swinging my fists wildly. I got in a few hits to her face as she was trying to cover up but strong hands roughly grabbed me and Robert pulled me off of her. The men in the saloon were hooting and hollering for more. Robert lifted me and carried me from saloon. He didn’t say a thing. He tied the lead to his horse to the back of the wagon and drove the wagon home with me crying. From that day forward, Robert quit the bottle. He spent more time at home after that day, we got closer. About a week later, he was out in the field checking on the herd of cattle and I was checking on the new fowl born, Goldie. I heard the creaking wheels of a buggy and turned to see the woman I had beaten driving the single horse. I didn’t have a firearm with me, the rifles and pistols were in the house. I grabbed a pitchfork and held it as she got out of the buggy.
She put her hands up, “Ma’am, I ain’t gonna jump ya,” she said. She was wearing a simple grey cotton dress with a flowered hat pinned to her head. “I have heard what ya been through and I am sorry for your loss. If I had been in your shoes, I might have done the same.”
I relaxed and lowered the pitch fork. “Then why are you here?”
“My name is Mollie and I know the demons plaguing you,” Mollie said, “And if you let me, I can help you deal with them.”
“What in hell are you talking about?” I asked, frustrated.
Mollie pulled something from the buggy. She unfurled it, showing me it was Cherokee style woman’s buckskin dress.
“What…what is this?” I stammered but couldn’t take my eyes off the dress.
“I have provided men certain kinds of entertainment over the years to fulfill their needs,” Mollie said, “But this will be to help ya. Ya get to fight me as I am dressed like one of them.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because ya need those demons out of that soul of yours,” Mollie said with a look of calm in her eyes, “Now I am gonna to change into this and we are gonna fight. I won’t hold back, so you best not.”
I looked down at what I was wearing. I had on a short sleeved dirty white cotton blouse and a long brown skirt that came to my ankles and only bloomers underneath. I was trembling as she stepped behind her buggy for a few moments. She stepped back out and her hair was down, falling in loose curls to her back. The buckskin dress was tight on her, her chest was large and hips as wide as mine. Even though her skin was a little lighter than most Natives, I now saw her as an Indian. And I wanted to fight her. She was bare foot and I took off my boots. I looked up and all I saw was a Native woman standing in front of me. Then we charged.
We slammed together grabbing at hair, my fingers twisting around the black locks as we stumbled on the dirt in front of the barn. I felt her tug sharply back on my hair and I screamed out. We wildly pulled each other around and then bent over at the waists pulling hard on hair. I untangled my left hand from her hair and grasped the buckskin dress at her right shoulder and twisted my body. It took Mollie off balance and she tumbled to the dirt, pulling me with her. We thrashed on the ground trying to yank out hair and wrestled to get on top. Our covered breasts compressed through our tops and she felt as full in the chest as I was. I felt her right hand leave my hair and then I was punched in the left side. I coughed out and she rolled on top of me. I bucked up with my hips to unseat her and we rolled again and into the barn. Pieces of straw were stuck in our hair as we punched and pulled at tops rolling. I kicked out and slammed a foot into her shin and she yelped in pain. We rolled clear of each other and got to our feet with fists raised.
My shirt was torn open with my large breasts exposed. Her buckskin top was torn at her right shoulder, showing more of her impressive cleavage. We came together and threw wild punches at each other. I had witnessed male fist fights and bare knuckles boxing before and what she and I were doing wasn’t that at all. Most punches thudded off shoulders or chests or sides with a few smacking into our heads. It felt so good to hit something and I felt almost alive again. We came together in a clench as our breasts slammed together, causing us both to grunt. We continued to hit our sides and backs with fists until we could barely move our arms. I felt the back of my shirt rise and then felt her nails scratch my skin and I screamed out in pain. She started to push me back and we hit one of the beams holding up the barn. I grabbed her hair with one hand and tore the top of her buckskin dress down. Large breasts came free and my right filled with left tit and I squeezed. Her screams of pain matched mine. Her hands started pulling at my skirt and I grabbed the back of her dress and was pulling for all I had to strip her. Her head moved back a little and slapped her hard in the mouth and she fell back to her shapely backside. I slumped down against the beam. She touched her face and saw blood from a cut lip and she started to rise. I groaned as I got up. She took the rest of the buckskin dress off and was standing naked in front of me. I pulled my long skirt down and also the bloomers, leaving both of us nude.
We charged again and the momentum had us stumble out the barn and into the wooden horse’s trough, with both of us plunging under before the trough broke and we fell out into a new muddy ground. Hands re-gripped hair as our large breasts pancaked together and pushed out our sides. Our legs snaked around the other and we rolled in the muck and mire. Mud covered us from head to toe and if someone would have come and found us, they would not have been able to tell us apart. We kept rolling until our backs met dry dirt and we worked our way to our knees. Mollie grabbed my throat and squeezed. I thought I was a goner and swung out with my right fist and it hit her just below her left ear. Then she crumpled to the ground with me falling on top.
I don’t know how long we both laid there but I felt her start to move so I rolled off. I expected us to keep fighting but through the mud and grim on her face she smiled at me.
“Do you feel any different now?” Mollie asked with labored breaths.
“I do,” I answered honestly.
She felt her jaw, “I think I much rather prefer my legs spread and up in the air for men than this, but I am glad to have helped ya.”
“Let’s get cleaned up,” I said as I tried to stand. It took four tries but we got up and cleaned off as best we could…..
I turned to Katerina who had her mouth agape, “A little while later, your papa brought you home from school and Mollie joined us for dinner.”
“Oh now I remember,” Kat said, her eyes wide, “He was real sore about the trough.” Then she laughed.
“Do you hate all Natives still?” a woman’s voice asked from behind us and I turned to see Red Flower standing there.
“No, I don’t hate all,” I said as I eyed her in the small bone top and short buckskin skirt, “But ones who sneak into my home, I may not fully like.”
“I told her it was ok to come, mama,” Kat said she stood to embrace Red Flower.
Nettie came into the parlor carrying another bottle of whisky and a glass for herself, “Since we are telling brawling stories, I might as well tell y ’all mine.”….
Nettie was 27 years old in 1861. South Carolina was all in a buzz because the South fired on Fort Sumter. It was mid-April and Nettie was a cook and maid for a family that owned a large cotton plantation. Nettie liked cooking and the family didn’t have complaints. It was the overseers, Solomon Reese and his wife, Miriam, who were the cruel ones. Solomon was a large portly man who drank whiskey regularly. Miriam was blonde and very voluptuous with huge breasts and backside. They loved to read from the Old Testament as they whipped slaves. Once day Nettie had dropped some eggs and Miriam had witnessed it and pulled Nettie by her hair to Solomon, who strapped Nettie up and whipped her and then let Miriam. Nettie should have stayed in bed because of it but she went back to work the next day in pain. She healed over the next few months and by the summer she and some of the other slaves were talking about escape. To “take the train to the River Jordan”. Nettie was sweet on a young man named Silas and the two would sneak off into the woods after dark for time alone. But one night they were discovered by Solomon and Miriam. Both were taken to the Reese cabin stripped naked and tied up. Solomon stoked the fire in the wood burning stove as the cabin began to swelter. Solomon stripped off his shirt and let his fat belly, slick with sweat be exposed. Miriam too took of her dress clad on in bloomers which were soaked to her skin. He started to beat Silas first with a whip and then a stick until the young man stopped moaning. Then Solomon gave the stick to his wife. She defiled Silas with the stick.
The sweat allowed Nettie to slip one and then other wrist from her restraints. On the table was a double barreled shot gun. She grabbed it, aimed at Solomon Reese’s back and pulled the trigger. Both barrels went off and exploded into his back. Miriam shrieked in horror as her husband fell dead. With stick in hand, the topless white woman rushed at the naked black woman. She brought the stick down but Nettie batted it away with the shot gun but they both lost grips on their weapons and slammed together.
Massive breasts collided and mashed together as the two women grabbed hair and tried to slap and scratch bare flesh. Both had short nails and scratching didn’t do much damage. The sweat from the heat of the cabin made their bodies slide wetly against the other. For being as evil as Miriam was, she didn’t use her fists much which was fine by Nettie because the black woman knew how to use hers. Nettie balled up a fist and slammed it into the blonde’s soft belly. There was a rush of expelled air and Miriam doubled over. She lifted her right knee and smashed it against the blonde’s face who fell back motionless.
Nettie went to check on Silas but found he was dead. She worked to untie the straps holding him up when she was tackled from behind by Miriam Reese. The two busty wildcats fell to the wood floor and began rolling as they pulled hair and bit at the other’s face. Hands grabbed the massive breasts and squeezed as they both screamed out. Miriam may not have ready with her fists but she could fight dirty. She reached down between Nettie’s thighs and grabbed a handful of dark pubic hair and pulled. Nettie screamed like she had been branded. She first grabbed at the blonde’s wrist and when she couldn’t pry it loose, she stuck her right hand down the bloomers and grabbed Miriam’s thick patch and pulled. The two women, one white and one black pulled on their pubic hair as they squeezed a large breast. Nettie head-butted Miriam in the face and the blonde fell away. Nettie slumped back but rose and crawled to the moaning blonde, straddling her waist and slamming her massive breasts down onto Miriam’s in wet THUD! Both cried out but it hurt the blonde more. Nettie raised her chest up and came down again, twisting her shoulders as she did. Miriam’s cries were growing weaker as Nettie gave her one final tit to tit slam. WHACK! The blonde stopped moving. The door burst open with a few of the other slaves who had talked about escaping. They couldn’t believe the sight in front of them. The got Nettie dressed and left. They were able to sneak of the eastern seaboard to Maryland, where Nettie met Harriet Tubman. After a little while there, she headed east to assist Levi Coffin, in the Ohio River Valley, bring other slaves up to the North…..
“My lord, Nettie,” I said quietly, “I never knew. I am so sorry.”
“Oh Ms. Ahna,” Nettie said wiping a tear from her cheek, “The good Lord sent people to help me and I believe He still works to send me to help you. I am glad you know some of my story and one of my fights.” She winked.
“You had more like that?” Maggie asked, wide eyed.
“Well,” Nettie said with a smile on her face, “Some like that and others like I heard tell about the two madams.”
I blushed, “Oh we are having story time more often.” I looked around, “Does anyone else want to share?”
Red Flower straightened in her chair, “I would, if that is alright.”
I nodded at her.
“When I was turned from a girl to a woman….”
Red Flower and her older sister, Red Blossom, rode with the great warrior and his band of Apache’s raiding Mexican villages. At one village they killed most the fighting men and took horses and a few young women with them. The hostages were treated well. Once night, one of the women, close in age to Red Flower lay with many of the Apache men to get them to like her. When she was able, she stole a horse and rode off. Only Red Flower saw this and when her alerted calling wasn’t answered, she grabbed a horse and took off after her. They rode a few miles across the dirt and sand with Red Flower gaining on the young woman.
As she closed in, Red Flower hopped onto her saddle and jumped, taking both women off the horse and tumbling to the earth. Red Flower was on her in an instant, her knife out. She knew some of the language of the people in the south and asked the woman her name. She answered that her name was Maria. Maria threw sand into Red Flower’s eyes and it blinded her. Maria kicked the knife from her hand and lunged for it. Red Flower pounced on her back as they both grabbed for the knife. Hands reached it at the same time and tried to pull it away from the other. It a wild jerk, the knife flew several feet away. Maria filled her hands with Red Flowers hair, pulling Apache over to her back. Red Flower and her sister had fought many white women and knew how they fought and the Mexican was fighting like that. The Apache woman grabbed Maria’s hair back and the two fought wildly in the dust. They rolled to an embankment and down, splashing into a small creek. They separated and Red Flower had lost her buckskin top and her large full breasts were on wet and on display. She was surprised when Maria pulled down the top of her dress, exposing slight smaller but firm breasts. They came together in ankle high water and pulled hair again. They didn’t stay on their feet long and splashed down into the water. Over and over they rolled. Pushing faces into the water when on top, rolling, repeating it for the other woman. This continued until they had rolled to the other side of the creek and fought up to grass. Hands grabbed at breasts to scratch and squeeze. Knees slammed between legs as each howled out in pain. Maria got Red Flower onto her back and started choking her with two hands. The Apache woman grabbed both of the Mexican’s breasts and crushed them in her hands. Maria screamed and fell off. Red Flower got to her knees when Maria started pleading with her in Spanish.
“Please let me go,” Maria cried, “They will kill me after this.”
Red Flower looked around. She knew where she was, “Take the horse towards that star,” pointing to the sky, “Follow it and you will see the soldier fort. They will help you. Tell them about the Apache. Go.”
Maria rode off and Red Flower tired her buck skin top back on and went back. When she arrived at the camp to the anger of the great warrior and her sister. Red Flower lied, saying the girl was too far ahead and she would have gotten to the soldier fort before she could be caught….
“I have a new respect for you, Red Flower,” I said, standing and pouring her and me a shot. I gave it to her and we both downed the whiskey.
“I am going to retire for the night,” I said as I nodded to everyone in the room. I went to my bed and stripped out of my clothing and crawled under the covers. A short time later I heard the door creak as it opened and Maggie came into the bedroom. She removed her sleeping gown as I pulled the covers off of me, but then she crouched and hissed like a cat and jumped. Our bodies came together and then we started giggling. But it did start a very long, very sweaty naked tussle into the wee hours of the morning.