All the characters in this story are fictional; any resemblance to anyone alive, or dead is simply just uncanny. All characters in this story are 18 years or older.
With breakfast over, Ryan sat on the large rock and just took in the beauty of the morning. He almost felt like he had been reborn. The world had taken on a new look for him. Some people might even describe what he felt as an epiphany.
He felt more alive up here than he had ever felt before in his life. The smell of the pine wafting on the cool morning breeze, the sounds of the water running in the creek below, punctuated at times by the sounds of birds. The site of a trout rising in the cool morning air, the way the water sparkled in the sunlight. It all blended together to give him a fresh look at life.
He looked around at the people in the camp, they were so different than most of the people that he had met before in his life. These people liked him simply for who he was. What he had, what clothes he wore, what car he drove, what kind of sneakers he had, none of it mattered one whit to these people. People here were judged on what was on the inside of a person, and nothing else.
Lindsey, like Ryan, was lost in her thoughts. She couldn't believe at what had happened to her on this camping trip. She had arrived up here a perfect virgin. Now she felt like she was turning into a regular little slut. She couldn't believe how much she had enjoyed sex. Now she couldn't get enough of it. Earlier this morning she had sucked Ryan off, telling him she wanted to practice. The truth was she had heard Jessi, and Becky talking about how large his cock was, and she had wanted to see it for herself. Before this trip the thought of performing oral sex had almost turned her stomach, but now she loved the feeling of a hard cock in her mouth, and most surprising to her, she loved the taste of man cum. Dreamily she looked over at Ryan and wondered if there were a way she would be able to fuck him some time. She would love to feel his large cock buried deep within her.
Stan watched Lindsey, and wondered what was going on in her head. He was amazed at the transformation in Lindsey over the past couple of days. He didn't know what caused it, nor did he care. Before this weekend he had felt her up, usually through her shirt, and she had never touched his erection. Early in the weekend Stan had felt a tinge of jealousy towards Ryan. He suspected that he was getting action from both his sister, and Jessi. He had almost passed out from shock when he was fishing and Lindsey came up to him and undid his jeans and pulled his hard cock out and began to jack him off. What surprised him even more was when she opened her shirt up and stroked him until he came all over her tits. Stan shook his head to himself, what a weekend!
After the dishes were cleaned up, everyone started the process of breaking camp. Ryan found it to be an almost melancholy chore. He wished he could just stay here forever. The sleeping bags were all rolled up, and stowed in the trucks. The tents were struck and carefully folded and repacked into their storage bags. The area was swept for any trash that remained. By the time they were done there was no evidence left that they had been there.
Uncle Bill looked over the area, satisfied that all was in order, "Jessi, you and your mom take my truck back, I want to take Ryan up to the old homestead before we head back to the ranch."
Ryan climbed into the other truck, and Uncle Bill headed up the road towards the mountains. After about a half mile on the road Uncle Bill veered off the road, onto to what looked like an abandoned road. Road was probably a very optimistic term, trail may have been a better description. Unused trail would have probably been the most accurate term to use, branches slapped at the truck as it wound its way along. All of sudden the trail opened into a large clearing, a log cabin at the far end.
"This is it," Uncle Bill beamed.
"It looks like it's in pretty good shape," said Ryan as he surveyed the old cabin.
Uncle Bill nodded, "Yes it is in good shape, your dad and I rebuilt it one summer when he came home from college, and I've kept it up ever since."
Retrieving a ring of keys from his pocket Uncle Bill unlocked the door and opened it up and motioned for Ryan to enter.
"Wow," Ryan said as he looked around the two-room cabin, "It's not very big is it."
"Nope, sure isn't. But you have to remember they built this by hand, and you would have to cut wood by hand in the winter to keep it warm, so back then, smaller was probably better," Uncle Bill pointed up at the small loft, "That's where my grandfather would have slept. This is actually the second cabin they built. The first one was just one room, probably around ten by twenty. I think my grandfather said that after they built this cabin they used the original cabin for chickens until it burned down."
A large wood burning stove still stood in the kitchen, an old table and a couple of chairs still sat by the window. Ryan walked into the other room, and tried to picture what it would have looked like when it was occupied.
Uncle Bill led Ryan outside, to a place at the edge of the meadow where a trio of headstones stood. "This is where my great-grandfather, and great-grandmother are buried. My grandfather had a sister who died when she was only a few months old, and that is who the smaller stone is for."
"What happened to her?" Ryan asked.
Uncle Bill shook his head, "I don't know. It takes us what, twenty or thirty minutes to get to town. It would have taken them probably a full day, or more to get to town from up here. To get a doctor up here would have taken at least two full days. Anywhere you go around here, to where people are buried from this time, you see an awful lot of young children buried. It was a tough life up here back then. Things we take for granted now killed people back then. Antibiotics were unknown, doctors were scarce, and families depended a lot on the skills of the mother and her knowledge of home remedies when people got sick. A lot of times, it wasn't enough."
Ryan looked at the dates on his great-great grandmother's headstone and automatically calculated her age, "Thirty-nine, she wasn't very old when she died was she."
Uncle Bill nodded, "Nope, she died from influenza. More people died in the influenza epidemic of 1916-1917 that were killed in the war."
Ryan shook his head; he had been enamored with the beauty of the rugged country. He hadn't thought of how hard, and unforgiving life must have been up here for the first settlers.
He pointed to the headstone of his great-great grandfather, "You never said what his Indian name meant."
"I asked quite a few people, I guess some things are hard to translate from Lakota to English," said Uncle Bill, "But what I've learned is that it roughly translates to Little White Brother of the Wolf. I've been told that there were various clans of the Lakota, and the one he had run into were members of the Wolf clan. According to my Grandfather he remained close with the Lakota for his entire life."
Once back at the ranch the camping gear was unloaded and put away. There were still the everyday chores of the ranch to take care of. Horses had to be fed, and watered, stalls to be cleaned in the barn, equipment to be checked, and fueled for the next day's work. By the time all was complete the sun was setting, and Aunt Suzanne had the evening meal ready and waiting for them.
Ryan stepped down off of the tractor and walked over to the pickup parked at the edge of the hay meadow. He pulled the truck up next to the piece of equipment, and then climbed into the bed of the truck. He began pumping fuel by hand into the tractor, by the time he was done pumping he could feel the sweat running down his face.
There was a time that he found that annoying, but more and more he enjoyed it. It meant he was working. He found that he enjoyed the hard physical work on the ranch. He could see the results of his labors, tangible evidence that he had been there and worked. Today he was 'haying'. He was running a tractor pulling a swather, cutting swaths of hay twenty-four feet at a time, leaving it in neat rows behind him. Uncle Bill had said that they would let it sit for a couple of days, and then bale it.
He looked up at the sun, he had quit wearing his watch, and time didn't matter out here much. Work started early in the morning when the sun came up, and often would end in the evening when it was too dark to see. The camping trip had ended a few days ago, and it was back to the business of running a ranch. Uncle Bill was hoping for a second crop of hay before winter, and if the good weather continued there was a good chance for the second crop.
Ryan hadn't had any time alone with Jessi since they came back from the camping trip. Everyone was up before the sun, and not back until the sun was well down. Today Jessi, and Uncle Bill had saddled the horses and had headed up to the high pasture to check on the cattle. They were pastured in the high meadows where the grass was almost knee high this time of year.
