Rocky Raccoon Ch 02

Gone to Texas

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Bonus points if you know what the subtitle is from.

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Rocky woke the next morning with a feeling of peace, and well being. He lay between sleep and wakefulness, enjoying the feeling of soft breasts pressed into his chest, a small hand fondling him to erection.

He opened his eyes, fully awake, remembering the night before. Before he got any farther Does Eyes slid up and impaled herself on his erection, moaning as she buried him to the hilt. Before long basic instincts took over, and Rocky found himself thrusting upwards, a firm breast in each hand, hard nipples between his fingers. It went on for what seemed like forever, before she shrieked softly and collapsed, her muscles gripping his cock, causing him to spurt at the same time. She lay on him for a few minutes, playing with his long hair and murmuring in her language. He had no idea what she was saying, so he petted her, stroking her silky hair in return and nibbling on her neck.

She finally rose up, gave him a tremendous grin, slipped on her dress and left. Rocky was trying to process everything when he heard a call.

"Rocky, you awake?"

It was Skunk, and hearing an answer he threw back the flap, letting daylight into the tipi. "Well, mon ami, it seems you had an interesting night."

"How do you know?"

Skunk snorted. "Hells bells boy, the whole camp knows. You two weren't exactly quiet. Does Eyes is with her friends right now, bathing in the river, and telling stories. It seems you made quite an impression on her."

Rocky blushed. "She made more of an impression on me. I woke up with her in my robes, naked, and nature took over. She's a little firecracker."

Jean Baptiste grinned before getting serious. "I'm glad you think so. The girls are planning the wedding right now."

"Wedding? Now hold on there, I don't..."

Skunk looked grim. "Oh, you're getting married, boy. Either that or dead. Walking Buffalo isn't going to take you dishonoring his niece lying down if you don't. I see nuptial bliss or a very long, very painful death in your future. Cheer up, Rocky. You don't have to stay married to her, just be her husband while you're here. Tell her you have to go away on white man's business, and don't come back. Of course, you can never come into this territory again, but you'll be free."

"No way out?"

"None."

Rocky suddenly remembered the story of his parents and their wedding and grinned. History was repeating itself, a generation on.

Doe Eyes bustled in, grinned at the men, and fired off a rapid speech. Skunk grinned.

"Apparently I've been appointed your father in the upcoming festivities, a guide to get you through this without embarrassing her or getting yourself killed. She also says you've lain around long enough. She brought your pants, but your shirt was a mess, so she made you one. Wear it with pride, she's one of the best seamstresses the tribe has."

It was a beautiful piece of work, bright red with intricate but understated bead work. Rocky had no idea at the time how hard it was to get cloth for the tribe, but when he found out he was even more impressed. His Stetson had been meticulously cleaned, the hatband adorned with matching bead work.

He stood, dressed with her help, jumping as she grabbed his privates and murmuring something in his ear, followed by a tongue. He blushed and his cock lurched, but she was out the flap laughing before he could react.

"Come on, Rocky, we got to get your bride price together. It has to be high, a nod to the importance of her family, but not too high or you'll shame them. It's all about balance to these people."

Rocky moved slowly, blinking in the full sunshine. He'd been on his back in the darkness for more than a few days, and he was almost blinded. Skunk helped him to a log in the shade, where they sat, and Skunk smoked a long pipe, talking casually.

"How well off are you, Rocky, in the white man's world?"

All Rocky would admit was that he did all right. Skunk snorted. "More than all right, judging by the coins in your money belt and saddlebags. What were you planning to do with it? And before you get pissed, Does Eyes found it when she got you naked. It's in a safe place, gold don't mean much to this bunch."

"I was on my way to Mexico to look at some cattle. I got a ranch in Wyoming Territory, and was planning to buy enough beeves to stock it."

"That money would buy a lot of cattle on the hoof down there. How many head you planning to run?"

"Tex said I could run about eight thousand and not over graze, but I was figuring more like five to start."

Skunk stared. "FIVE THOUSAND? You own the whole territory?"

Rocky grinned. "No, but I got a good chunk. I already got about a thousand head that we drove up last year."

"Well then, I've finally met a genuine Cattle Baron. Enough about that, let me show you what you own here." He called out to a young boy, issuing orders rapidly. The boy ran off, and an hour later he came into view, riding Smiley and leading four more horses. three mares and a small black stallion that reminded him a lot of his own mare. He had the same classic Arabian lines. Rocky thought briefly about how their offspring would look, before reality crashed in and reminded him he would probably never see the mare again.

They were all pretty good horses. Skunk gave a running commentary. "Your gelding, the paint, and the dun mare, along with most of the loot you came in with will be more than enough for Doe Eyes. You need to keep the stud, and the gray mare. Doe Eyes has taken quite a shine to that one, gift it to her and I'm sure she would be glad to show you her gratitude."

Rocky went quite for a minute. Skunk caught it and asked what he was thinking.

"I'm married already, Skunk. Sort of anyway."

"That don't mean much to these folks. A brave can have as many women as he can afford as wives. The lucky number seems to be four. I ain't got but two, myself, and I'm lucky to keep up with them. Four would kill me. How do you be sort of married, anyway?"

So Rocky told him a story, one of only a handful who had heard the whole tale.

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Rocky stepped off the train, taking in the heat of a Texas summer. There was a reception committee waiting on them. Tex's mother, brother and sister were there, along with a slender man and a woman with the same build, except for the curves that made you definitely notice she was female. Both Mexican, they had on their finest. The silver gleamed on his hatband and rig, the tooled leather holding two very impressive pistols, ivory handled, and deadly looking. She was dressed in understated finery, gleaming ivory tresses held in an elaborate style by tortoise shell combs enhanced with silver and mother of pearl. Her eyes were dark, flashing, and impressive, seeming to look into your soul.

After the hugs and tears from his family, Tex introduced their companions.

"Rocky, this fine gentleman is Juan Carlos Valdez Montoya, and his lovely sister Maria."

He shook his hand, noting the firm clasp and the way he looked him in the eye. He turned to the woman, and in a surprise, raised her hand and kissed it. He'd seen his bosses on the railroad do it many times, and never understood the gesture until now.

"It is a pleasure to meet both of you," He said, still holding her hand. Surprising himself, he told Maria she was a very beautiful woman, and her husband must be one of the luckiest men in Mexico. He didn't realize it, but he had spoken in German.

She flushed slightly before smiling. "He will be, senor, when I find him. Thank you for your sweet compliment."

It only took Rocky a second before he realized she had answered in German, and he blushed furiously, much to their amusement. Juan Carlos explained their familiarity with the language. "There are quite a few German settlers, both here and Mexico. There are a couple of towns near here that use German almost exclusively. Maria and I had a German woman as our nanny for years, and she is still with us, not as a nanny, but an honored member of our household. Our mother, God rest her soul, passed when Maria was three and I was five. Enga became more than a nanny, she's the only mother we've ever had."

Rocky had finally recovered, and smiled slightly. "While I didn't exactly mean it for your ears, senorita, I stand by my statement."

This time Maria blushed and changed the subject.

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After a very pleasant week with Tex's family, they joined the Montoya siblings and traveled for ten days, crossing the Rio Grande six days into their journey. He was happy to hear they would be at their hacienda by nightfall.

"Where does your spread start, Juan Carlos?"

Juan Carlos grinned and said they had been on his family's ranch since they had crossed the river. They topped a rise, looking down into what can only be described as an impressive villa, one that would be equal to any home on the plains of Toledo as Mexico. It was a large structure, two stories in the middle, with a rambling single story that formed a U shape. There were many large structures around it, a massive barn, a large building Rocky was sure was a bunkhouse capable of holding fifty men, a blacksmith shop, assorted other buildings dedicated to other disciplines.

Rocky had been seeing cattle for the last two days, ranging from small mottled cows barely bigger than a Jersey to massive longhorns, bigger than most horses. He learned later Don Carlos Sr. had imported bulls from England and Europe, keeping them close to the hacienda and turning selected heifers into breeding stock. Rocky got a chance to see many of the hybrids, and was impressed with their size and form.

Don Carlos was a college educated man, as was his son. Maria did not have that opportunity, so Don Carlos imported tutors with a range of specialties, until her education was every bit the equal to her brother. On a ride to the far reaches of his ranch, Don Carlos talked to Rocky in depth.

"Knowledge is power, young man. Why should I deny the power to my daughter because she was born female? Have you noticed the school I have on my ranch? Every child of every laborer, vaquero, maid, or cook is taught to read and write. I have sent the most exceptional off to further their education. One has a degree in animal husbandry, specializing in horses, cattle and sheep. He runs my breeding program. Another studied mathematics, and is now my accountant. So it goes to any of the children who show talent. Some leave us, but their roots are here, and they visit often."

He paused for a second, watching a dust cloud in the distance. "Tell me Rocky, where were you educated? You have breeding, and impeccable manners, always the gentleman around the ladies, never speaking ill of anyone. I heard Maria say something to you in Latin, and enjoyed the shocked look on her face when you answered her in the same language."

Rocky blushed slightly before answering. "Sir, I have no formal education. What I had was a mother who was a former teacher, skilled in many disciplines. My siblings and I spent many a long Minnesota winter in study and debate on a wide range of topics. She is also the one responsible for my manners. My father, though not as educated, taught us how to dance, and oddly enough, Latin. He never did say where he learned it. I suspect he learned it from a priest, but he never spoke of religion around us. He also taught us practical things that were handy in the real world, like how to box, even my sister. She has a mean right hook, and I have a lump on my nose to prove it."

Don Carlos smiled. "I'm sure they're very proud of you."

"I hope so, sir. I haven't seen any of them in a few years, since I left home. We correspond, but I would love to see them again. Perhaps, if things work out, I can visit them this fall, after the snows fall and there isn't much going on."

What Rocky didn't tell them is that he'd taken some of the gold he had mined, converted it to dollars, and sent them a substantial sum, along with an open invitation to visit him as soon as possible. He got a letter back from his mother, blurred in spots in what Rocky suspected were from tears, thanking him, telling how welcome the money was, and how it would get them through the winter and beyond. Apparently the ground was failing, and the farm had ceased to be profitable. He sent her a letter back describing the beauty of the area he lived in, and strongly suggested when they came for a visit they brought enough with them for an extended stay. His brothers had married, but Helga was still single, despite no shortage of admirers. He hadn't received an answer before he left for Texas.

They stopped their discussion as the dust cloud morphed into a group of riders, thirty or more, approaching them. Don Carlos frowned, and the dozen or so vaqueros who had been riding with them drifted over until they formed a security perimeter around the Don.

The riders were mostly Anglos. with a smattering of Mexicans thrown in. They stopped and formed a line, before a bearded man with a large belly and a tobacco stained shirt rode forward. He seemed angry.

"You the head honcho here?"

Don Carlos looked him over for a second, trying hard to mask the disgust he felt. "If you are asking if I am the owner of the property you're on, Senor, then I am indeed the 'head honcho', as you put it. What brings you gentlemen to my ranch?"

"'Bout a hundred head of my cattle was rustled ten days ago, along with a few from other ranches. We followed the tracks to the river. We aim to get our cows back, if we have to cut every herd we come across. We don't find them, we gonna take enough to make up for our time and trouble."

Don Carlos, his face a mask even as he was consumed with rage, replied. "Look around you, senor. You have been on my ranch for at least three days. You've probably seen a thousand head or better. Did you find one with any brand other than my own? I think not. I suggest you give me a description of the number you lost and the brands they carry. If we find any at roundup, we will cut them out and send word. You will not, senor, ride about on my property disturbing my livestock. I will not allow it."

Belly man went bright red and started stuttering before he regained control. "You listen here, greaser. Nobody tells Red Bailey what he can't do. Maybe I need to..."

Rocky rode forward, having heard enough. He finished the man's sentence. "Draw in your horns and shut the hell up, before someone gives you a lesson in manners. I've been here ten days, mister, and in all that time I've never come across a critter that had any other brand on it. I'm sorry you lost your cows, but trying to take another's to make up for it could get you killed."

The man called Red had a face that matched his title. "Listen here, greaser lover, we got more men and we'll do as..."

"You got more men now, asshole. Don Carlos probably has two or three hundred men working for him. Do something to get him hurt or killed, and his son will have a hard time holding them back, even if he was inclined, and that goes for all that ride with you. There'd be hanged Texans from here all the way to the river and beyond. They won't stop until they get every one of you." Rocky stopped for a moment, removing his hat and running a bandana across his sweat covered brow. "Besides, take a good look at his men, you really want to risk opening the ball?"

The vaqueros, to a man, had pulled the coach guns they carried alongside their rifles, while all eyes were on Rocky. A dozen ten gauge double barrel shotguns were suddenly pointing in their direction. "You boys are bunched too tight. One shot would probably get two or three, and there's twenty-four barrels pointed at you. There probably wouldn't be enough left to bury, including the horses, even if we were so inclined. I think they would just leave you laying, let the coyotes and skunks take care of you, and ride away laughing. I think you need to go home now, this Mexican climate ain't doing you no good. Go now, while you can."

The rage was obvious on Bailey's face. "Nobody talks to Red Bailey like that! If you weren't backed up by all them guns, I'd teach you some manners, boy."

He was surprised when Rocky grinned. "Oh, I'm sure if I asked Don Carlos here real polite like, he would give his word not to interfere with such an educational opportunity. Why don't you get down off that crowbait you call a horse and try me out? Guns, knives, or fists, it don't make no nevermind to me. Let's get on with it though, I got things to do today."

He grinned again, and Red didn't like it. "OR, you could tuck your tail between your legs and scurry on back to whatever shithole you came from. I'm sure a man like you has a daughter or wife waiting for him, or maybe a daughter/wife.

Red Bailey was suddenly a man weighing his options. This feller was a mite too anxious to mix it up, and he had all them shotguns backing him up. He tried bluffing it out.

"What's to stop them greaser friends of yours from killing me when I'm done with you. I think maybe I'll wait until I'm on my side of the river before I stomp your ass."

Rocky turned to Don Carlos. "Your word, sir, that whatever happens, you or your men will not interfere."

"It is not your fight, amigo. We are quite capable of handling our own affairs."

"Understood, sir. But the man insulted my host, a man of integrity, and more important, one I have come to call friend. He further insulted me, and I would take it as a personal favor if you would allow me to do this."

Don Carlos slowly nodded his head, before speaking, in English, so the crowd could hear. "As you wish. Be it known, the first man on either side to interfere will be shot immediately."

"Thank you sir." Rocky turned to Red. "You gonna get off that horse, or do I need to drag you off? Tell you what, get off, drop your britches, and let me take a belt to that arrogant ass of yours, and you won't get killed. Your choice."

Red Bailey was beyond angry. He was going to kill this asshole. Red knew something Rocky didn't. He'd grown up on the streets of New York, working as an enforcer and goon for one of the crooked politicians that floursihed there. He'd grown to love the violence, enjoyed the beatings he gave, until he finally went too far and killed a man of some importance. His boss gave him a horse and a small bag of money, and told him to leave New York and never return. He ended up in Texas, owner of a small ranch he practically stole, and he hated it. Red never liked physical labor much.

His herd getting stolen was the last straw. He'd already decided he and his men were going to gather as big a herd as possible, drive it back across the river, sell it, and leave Texas for good. He'd heard good things about Chicago, and was sure a man of his talents could find a place there. Then he ran into these greasers.

Red had no doubt he could beat Rocky. He was five inches taller, and outweighed him by sixty pounds, even without the beer belly. "Maybe I'll break his legs," he thought as he dismounted, "or maybe blind him. One thing for sure, he'll never be as pretty as he is right now when I'm done." He looked at Rocky as he hung his gunbelt on the saddle.

"Fists, then. Go on, little boy, give it your best shot."

He never saw the fist coming until it was making contact with his jaw. Stunned, he shook his head, before roaring in rage and charging. Red suddenly found himself sprawling on the ground, tripped as Rocky shifted and stuck out his foot. Her got up slowly. This boy could fight. He touched his mouth, feeling the blood trickle. "I'm gonna kill you, boy!"

"I can tell," mocked Rocky, as he waited for him to get up, "because you're doing such a good job so far."