The year is 1932.
We are looking at a young woman dressed in the black of grieving over the loss. She is standing beside an open grave where the remains of her husband have been lowered into the earth. She was moaning until a gentle hand led her away.
"Brenda, they need to seal the grave. Come and let them finish their work," The gentle hand was that of her pastor who tried his best to assuage her pain the walked together slowly on the slope to the church hall where family and friends have gathered to celebrate the life of Mike Markham.
Mike's widow, Brenda, was still in a daze, and nothing around her seemed real. It was surrealistic and dreamlike as the widow tried to compose herself among the mourners and well-wishers who were there with her.
A collection was being taken for the widow and the children. In a more prosperous time, they would have given more money than they could in this hard and bitter time, but, they gave what they could because they were decent and generous of heart Brenda thanked them one by one as they filed out for church hall and headed home.
One of the mourners was a Mr. James Taylor. He owned the boarding house and adjoining restaurant in the town. Ashe walked past widow, he handed her a piece of paper from his clenched fir into her hand. She put it in her handbag for later.
When the service had ended, Brenda and her mother walked the 300 yards from the church to their cabin. Brenda undressed quickly hanging up the borrowed black dress and carefully put back the black widow's hat. in the hatbox which was also borrowed. Anyone walking by that time would have done a double-take. Brenda, in our day, would have been considered a trophy wife. Her long light brown hair almost covered her derriere, which was bare by the way. Her 34D breasts were barely contained by the corset she had on but didn't need. The back stocking revealed gorgeous long legs terminated in a silky brown pussy. Dropping her clean by very worn shift down over the naked body.
"Mother?"
"Yes, dear."
"Is there anything for the baby?
"Yes, Brenda."
"What's on the table"
"A little bit little bit of everything dearest."
"So we won't have to cook for a couple of days, huh?"
"More like a week if don't spoil."
"Well, I wonder what Taylor has to say if I didn't already know."
Brenda read the note.
"He wants me to work for him."
"You mean, fuck for him. Wouldn't surprise me if he wanted to use you as a whore."
"Wouldn't surprise me either ma."
"But with Mike gone now (she began to cry) where am I to turn?"
She laid her arm on the cold cookstove and wept bitterly which started Mike Jr. crying so momma had to pick him up and comfort him.
"I don't want to do it, mom."
"Neither did I when your father up and left us but it was the only way for me too, baby" The grandmother threw her arm around her daughter's shoulders, sobbing as well.
The next day Brenda went to the hotel in her Sunday dress. Taylor saw her walk in.
"I saw that you read my note."
"I sure did. What do you want?
"That's blunt."
"Lookit, you've been trying to fuck me since I was 14 and tried at different times since, so I am pretty sure what you want now that I am a widow."
"Okay here it is, I need a whore. Your mother was one, so why don't you take up the Family Business."
Before he could react a very hard slap landed on his cheek.
"Don't you ever call me or my mother whores. "
She then kneed him in the balls to prove it.
"When you can talk descent to a lady, come by the cabin."
Then she slapped him again to prove her resolve.
One of her classmates was in the lobby at the time, "Taylor, you never want to mess with Brenda. She'll cut your balls off then make you eat them."
A bit of history is needed at this point.
Brenda's mother was the former Jane O'Reilly, and like many mountains girls was fucked the month after her first period. Jane was lucky, her father didn't sell her but pregnant at 14, he had to let her marry Walter Bingham, the father of the child, and take her away across the mountain.
Walter was drafted into the Great War in 1917 and left for boot camp. Jane never saw him again. Jane was left with nothing except a five-year-old baby. The week after he left, the food was gone and the rent was due. A desperate Jane went to the General Store for credit.
"I won't give you credit, Jane, but I pay you for something you've got between your legs."
He led her into the backroom and fucked her. She got $5.00 and was able to feed Brenda and herself. Word got around the community that there was a woman who would fuck for money. So Jane paid the rent on her back and their clothes on her back every penny they got was from Jane laying on her back with legs spread open fucking.
That leads us back to our story.
Brenda had walked back home in a foul mood, her mother could see her daughter did want to talk now.
Then there was a rap on the door, Jane answered it,
A gentleman dressed in a suit was in the doorway.
"Is Mrs. Brenda Markham available?
Brenda answers. "That would be me, sir."
"My name is Oliver Brownson, I am the comptroller for the mining Company. I am here to settle the accounts with you and your late husband.
"First is the matter of his unpaid wages, Mr. Markham was due thirty cents in at the time of his death.
"Secondly, the Union contract we signed requires us to pay you $5.00 compensation for the accident.
"Finally, the owner of the mine wishes to avoid unpleasantries with the press and the Union regarding the accident, so he is prepared to offer you $150. for non-disclosure about the incident."
Brenda was unsure what to say.
"Say we make it $200, will you sign.
Brenda struggled. $200. was more money than she had seen in hir whole life. But her babies.
