Claire's Eyes

Pierre looked deeply into Claire's eyes. He could not believe how far he could see into her soul, how the depths swirled with love and passion for him. He blinked, looking away. He should not allow himself to feel this way. He was a married man…yet every fiber in his body, no, his soul, yearned for just one touch of her. One touch, that was all he needed. Surely that would sate the primal desire surging in his loins? He dared to look again, searching out her eyes. His brow furrowed. Could he be wrong? Perhaps he only imagined the passion. Did she truly feel the same for him? As their eyes again connected, he felt the jolt of passionate electricity between them, saw the desire in her eyes, the slight parting of her lips, the arching of her body towards his.

At this moment, time stood still.

Pierre opened his heart, and let Claire into his soul.

There would be no other who would reach him so deeply, who would be given a key to his inner sanctum, who would inflame the heat of his loins.

With just a look.

No, she was all he could see, smell, feel without touching. With just his eyes, Pierre told Claire these things, conveyed his pledge to their eternal union. He joined their souls, their hearts, and their lives. Forever. Eternally. Wholly.

Pierre looked over his shoulder at the man who held his life's breath, who controlled his remaining time on this earth. The shrouded hangman grunted, shifting his weight on the dusty planks. The crowd was growing, all knew a hanging was a spectacle that drew the majority of the town. It was something to witness, the taking of a life. The taught snap of the rope as it stopped the flow of oxygen to the brain and the lungs, violently ending life. It was awesome and terrifying, and few would miss it.

Pierre was soon to die.

His mind sought refuge, escaping reality. He closed his eyes, sinking into his memories. He smiled, recalling the first visage of true love, an all encompassing love, a love that had rooted deep into his soul and very existence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pierre was riding the borders of his ranch, mapping the areas of the fence that needed repair. As he crested a hill, the sunlight caused him to squint and lower his Stetson. He spied two men standing in front of a lone female. She was half naked, covered in dust, and screaming for help. One man slapped her as she tried to scream again, ordering her silence. She cowered in the dirt, desperately gathering her torn dress, trying in vain to cover her breasts.

The men started to laugh; one dark haired, tall and lean, sporting a holster on each hip; the other bald, short and squat, aiming a rifle at the girl. Pierre seethed with anger, mentally assessing how he could help her with three guns against his one. He had heard of this; young girls kidnapped, raped and murdered in the wilds, with no one yet caught for the crimes.

As Pierre prepared to charge down the hill, the tall man grabbed the woman.

"Take off your clothes!" he demanded.

She cried out, begging to be set free. She offered them anything; she would not tell the sheriff, would pretend it never occurred, would give them all earthly possessions; if only they would release her. Again they laughed, clapping each other on the back as if they enjoyed her plight.

"Little lady", the short bald one chuckled, "We ain't let the other girls go, so why would we let you?"

She became hysterical, sobbing into the earth. A heartbeat later she raised her tear and dirt streaked face, composing herself. She held her head high, and stood.

Pierre marveled at her strength under such a terrifying and hopeless situation. A lone female, far from any help, standing her ground, eyeing down the barrel of a rifle.

"Take off your damn clothes!" barked the tall man.

Pierre watched as she stood silent, defiantly looking the men in the eye. With a trembling hand, she reached up to remove what was left of her tattered rags. The men drooled, enraptured by her young supple body. As she lowered the rags to her waist, milky globes emerged, tipped with rosy aureoles. Under their lusting gaze her nipples tightened in fear, and angrily she thrust out her chest. Pierre marveled at her breasts, desire surging forth. Fool, he chided himself. She needs your help, not your lust! He shifted in his saddle, sliding his hand back to grasp his rifle. He slid it out, and looked back at the scene. The girl was starting to lower the dress further, and he could see the petticoats at her waist. The men chuckled and ogled, anticipating their visual treat.

Her eyes scanned the horizon, and then she saw him, their eyes locking briefly.

She quickly looked back at the men.

Pierre froze, fearing recognition. He then sighed with relief, thankful that this girl was level headed enough not to show any outward reaction. She began to slowly gyrate her hips as she undressed, causing the men to groan and chuckle.

"That's right, girly. Maybe we'll let you live if you satisfy us," urged the short man. "Come on, let me see the goods!"

She began to swirl and wiggle her hips, twirling around while lowering her petticoats. The men were entranced, enthralled as the force of her spinning caused her breasts to jiggle and bounce.

"Oh ya," groaned the tall one. He began to remove his gun belt, preparing to enjoy the fruits wantonly displayed in front of him. The shorter one followed, tossing the rifle aside and undoing the laces of his breeches. Moments later the men were without pants, their erections bulging forth, slapping against their belly's.

Now! Pierre slapped the horse's backside, causing it to surge forth, stampeding down the hill. The girl saw him coming, quickly pulling up her clothes. The men turned, mouths agape, leaping for their guns. Pierre dug his spurs into the horse, urging it to move faster. He was almost upon her…

The girl ran towards him, arms up stretched, desperation etched upon her face. Pierre heard a shot ring out, and felt more than saw the girl jerk forward, crimson appearing at her waist.

"No!" Pierre screamed.

With all his might he lunged ahead, driving the spurs deeper. The horse pounded forward, creating a huge cloud of dust. Pierre leaned to his left, half off the saddle, clinging to the saddle horn. He grabbed the girl's arm, pulling her violently onto his lap. She struggled as the saddle horn dug into her wound, but Pierre held her fast. He dared not let her fall, this was his only chance to save her. Shots rang out as he sped off down the hill, and he chanced a look back.

The men were trying to pull on their clothes, realising he was out of their range of fire. Their horses had been tethered to a nearby stump, and they raced towards them.

Pierre urged on his horse, silently begging it's forgiveness for again spurring it's sides. The girl lay upon his lap, lifeless and silent. Her body flopped up and down with each gallop, and Pierre feared the worst. He had to get them to a safe place, away from danger, so he could tend to her. His saddle bag contained supplies, as he often slept under the stars while he rode his land. He also carried bandages and medicine, in case of injury. On the range one had to fend for oneself, as he owned over a hundred acres and would often be gone for days, seeing no one.

He raced toward a place he knew well, he had often played there as a boy. He had discovered it when his Father and the ranch hands had been fencing the family claim, many years ago. It was hidden behind a clump of gnarled trees, and it could not be seen unless you were right in front of it. To the passerby, it looked like a few trees slightly up a hill, with a boundary fence above them.

Pierre guided his horse towards the trees, looking back often to see if they were followed. He saw no one, and sighed in relief. Perspiration clung to him, his heart racing with the fear that she was dead. Finally they were in the trees, and Pierre lowered her to the ground. She crumpled into a lifeless heap, not uttering a sound. Pierre leapt down, holding the reins and guiding the horse to the mouth of the cave he knew so well. Often he would sleep here, sheltered from the rains of spring and the cold of winter. He unstrapped the pack from the horse, and tossed it into the cave. He followed with his rifle, and quickly laid out his bedroll. He ran back to get the girl, fear rising in his heart. He gently gathered her in his arms, and carried her into the cave.