The whistle of the train chugging along on the track woke up Zeria from her light slumber. The last couple of days had been pulling a strain on her that had her sleeping without even intending to. The train ride started two days prior in New Jersey and was currently in Texas. No sleep and being in a god forsaken cart with an older gentleman across her in the same department had her at the end of her nerves. She was hot, sweaty, and ready to simply get up and walk around at the next stop in Reno, Nevada. She was debating on whether or not to hold off the next part of the trip and just staying one night at a hotel in Reno, just so she got one night to relax before starting the tutoring job for the Wilsons.
The train jerked forward and then the cart shifted forward with the inertia of trying to stop so fast.
What in the hell?
Zeria looked down the hall and noticed other patrons leaning out to see what the stopping was for. The trains braking continued to squeal as it slowed down. Zeria sat back. What if she didn't make it to the Wilsons. Would anyone even care? The Wilsons had enough money they could easily have another tutor on the way in before she was even figured missing. Her husband had been gone for six months, and she was honestly, tired of wearing the black... but proper attire was required of her.
She thought back about her husband. George had been a great man, in public around others. In person he was a royal asshole and didn't know when to keep the bottle closed and in the cabinet. It really shouldn't surprise her that he ended up with a bullet between his eyes from starting a fight in the west with a gunslinger over cheating poker. Zeria sighed, now this shit. She had seriously had it with everything over her head and out of her grasp. But though she came from a well to do family, they wanted nothing to do with her since her husband had ruined those bridges with his drinking, and his gambling. He just kept it quiet and out of sight until he had her under his body and her signature on a paper officially saying they were husband and wife in the eyes of the law and the church. When her father had found out, he accused her of helping George out and had disowned her from ever being on their lands. That had hurt worse then realizing that George had used her simply for her dowry. The money had vanished so quick that she ended up having to get a job to support them. All the money from sewing dresses and patching things up for others went down the gullet of George in form of liquid fire. Eventually, she couldn't support them anymore so she got another job, this time she was washing laundry. Finally, George got into a lot of trouble with the town gangster and decided to head west, saying he would send her out when he had landed a job and a home. He never did. He got shot on the first night he stepped foot into Arizona. Zeria rolled her eyes in the cart. What an idiot.
The train finally came to a stop, dust settling outside. The temperature in the cart slowly was rising now that the slight breeze wasn't coming through the windows and circulating around the rooms. A gunshot and a groan came from the front of the car, leaning out trying to see past the older gentleman in the same cart as her, she saw three masked men walking into the cars, a bag out collecting jewelry and valuables with a gun at their occupants. The train conductor was sitting on the ground with his partner sitting next to him holding a bloody rag to his gut. The man was sweating profusely and groaning. Zeria grabbed her bag and put her cash onto her seat, grabbing the gentleman next to her, hand. Quietly, she whispered, "When they come in, give them this, say it's all I have, that I'm your niece. Claim I'm a mute as my... dad died. Anything to get them to let me go take care of the conductor. I can help. Please." The older gentleman looked down at her, and nodded. His chocolate eyes nervously sliding side to side.
Zeria sat back and folded her hands into her lap, she had her sewing and medical kit with her from her time learning how to nurse... and she planned to get the conductor back into shape. The men were getting closer and she slid her mourning veil over her eyes and bowed her head. The first man passed them, continuing on, but the second and the third were talking to the gentleman about her.
"Give us whatever valuables you have, as well as any money." He grunted out.
"Sir, my niece and I have only this money back, my pocket watch, and her jewelry." His voice trembling. He at least stated the instructions.
"I'm sure she has to have something more... she's dressed nice, why doesn't she speak?"
Zeria gulped. He would speak it correct right? "Her father just died a couple of days ago. She has taken a vow of silence for her mourning period. She used most of her jewels and valuables to get the black clothing." Smart thinking he was!
"Hmmm.... fine then. Stay seated."
He continued on, only to stop to hear the gentleman gasp out, "Sir, my niece has nursing experience, would you please have the mercy to let her take care of the conductor..." his voice trailing off in hesitation. The man nodded and continued on. She looked up when they continued down the hall collecting more and more items. Grabbing her bag she whispered, "Thank you, kind sir."
Walking down the aisle she knelt next to the gentleman lying on the floor. His partner was still pressing the blood filled rag into the wound. Opening up the bag, she grabbed the long tweezers, and the rubbing alcohol in there. She pulled my gloves off her hands, setting them to the side, and then grabbed a new rag from the bag. Pulling the veil off she set it next to the gloves as well as rolling the long sleeves up and out of the way. Pouring the rubbing alcohol on her hands and quickly rubbed them dry, suddenly she knew the conductor and her were not the only ones there.
"And just
what
do we have here?" The voice was warm as melted caramel. She shivered in fear and in something else. Excitement? She glanced up and pointed to her mouth and tried to mime that she didn't speak. The bandanna didn't move the whole time and the green grass eyes looked at hers with a small twinkle in them.
"Well, I definitely understand that you have a beautiful mouth, gorgeous, but what are you doing?" She sighed. Pointing at the wound, she showed the tweezers, and rag... hoping that he would understand. Thankfully, he nodded. "Yeah, if you're gonna help him, best get to it. If the others get done and you're not back in your seat... I can't promise the best of things." She nodded her understanding and bowed her head in thanks.
Turning back to the wound she ripped the blooded fabric from the shirt and moved the partner's hand and rag, telling him in silence she had it. The conductor shot was out cold, so she didn't worry too much about pain management, instead grabbing the rubbing alcohol and splashing it on the wound. It turned white cleaning the wound and finally, she wiped the blood that had caked on, and squeezed the wound to release the alcohol. Before anything could wake the conductor, she shoved the tweezers into the wound and dug for the bullet. Finding the legendary clink of metal hitting metal, she squeezed the tweezers and pulled the bullet. Not budging she finally leaned forward onto the conductors body, circling her palm around the wound, and yanked the bullet forward to pull it out. Finally, with a grunt she got the bullet out and instantly dumped the rubbing alcohol into the wound. Holding the towel she pulled out she pressed into the wound to stop any flow of alcohol and blood from exiting. After extracting the bullet she dropped both tweezers and bullets onto the ground, and turned around to grab the wraps to close it with some gauze. Finally, she had the conductor help her sit him up and she tied the clothe around him securing it with a tight knot. Sighing, she used her sleeve to wipe her forehead off of the sweat beading there from the heat, and the stress. Suddenly, shouting in the back, and finally, two... three... four gunshot wounds. Both of the train robbers came running in, one holding his arm. The other two were following behind ready to get the hell of the train and gone.
The injured outlaw looked at her, saw her kit and her supplies, pointed at her looking at the outlaw next to her, saying, "Bring her." She gasped. What?
Without a word, one of the robbers ended up grabbing her bag and the cowboy next to her, scooped her up over his shoulder as if she was a sack of potatoes. She frantically shook her head, finally pounding her fist into his back and kicking her legs. Without a warning a hand smacked down hard on her ass and she felt the familiar zing shoot from her ass straight to her cunt.
Oh no
, she thought. She grunted from the impact and finally started to really kick and make a scene. She did not want to go with a bunch of outlaws! If she got away the Wilsons would never want a ruined woman like her tutoring their precious children!
"Woman! I happen to like spanking that fine ass of yours, so you keep moving sweetheart." His palm slammed down hard on her buttocks and made her squeal. The smacking was making her get wet, and she didn't want it. Not in the slightest bit.
Without even a warning, they were out of the train, and onto his horse. With a grunt, he set her on her bottom on his lap. Holding her into his chest, with a shout, the boys were headed away from the train. She gripped onto his legs to stay seated with the horse running underneath her. The outlaws hand wrapped around her front and slid her closer to his center into his body heat. His scent was fresh, as if he had just used a scented soap just hours prior and the heat, felt like it was warm water sliding down her flesh. Her skin shivered, and the nipples hardened in the heat until she was sure they would know by looking at her dress, even with her corset and dress on.
They road for about an hour, stopping at a crick where there was a fire going, and two other cowboys sitting there making food. They must have stayed behind at camp. Coming to a stop the injured outlaw finally fell off his horse and was rushed by all but the cowboy holding her. He let her down and gave her back to the outlaw who grabbed her bag . Jumping off the horse giving him a pat on his side, he dragged her to the largest of four tents with the bag in one hand and her in the other. The injured man was lying on his side and his shirt was off. The injury was caked with blood, but had no longer been bleeding. Sighing, Zeria figured that they had expected her to fix him up. But how was she to get back to the train? They wouldn't leave her would they?
"Well? Get to it!" The injured man whined. She looked around for her bag. Grabbing it from her outlaw driver, she bent down onto her knees, and started the cleansing process again to remove the bullet. The whole time she she kept her head down doing what was necessary. Looking up, she noticed all the outlaws were watching her as if suspicious of her.
Nodding again, she grabbed the rubbing alcohol, ready to pour it onto his wound, when she thought maybe she should have him have a couple strong drinks of something. Looking around, she found his whiskey bottle next to the bed stand... grabbing it, she placed it near his mouth. He looked at her and grimaced knowing what she was trying to say. Gulping a good ten gulps of the whiskey, he nodded. Lying back. She splashed the rubbing alcohol onto the wound and watched his chest expand in pain. Wincing she rubbed the dried blood off the would and got a closer look at it. It was a graze wound. No bullet, no anything to pull. Just cleaning, and a bandage. She dropped the tweezers into the bag, grabbing a fresh gauze and wrap and tied it tight. The cowboy had passed out during the tying.
