*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
Disclaimers: Yes I need an editor. No, I do not want an editor. If this fact bothers you that much, kindly stop reading now.
Yes, it jumps around too much. Yes, there's too many people to keep track of. Yes it's too long. Yes it's too short. Yes it's in the wrong category. Yes this is stupid shit, and yes, I am a horrible writer, barely literate.
Blackrandl1958 had recently asked a group of fine, esteemed writers to contribute to a Western themed contribution. I was not asked to participate; that is Blackrandl1958's right as a writer on this site. But I liked the contributions so much, I wanted to do one, possibly more in that genre.
Also, this is a story about cuckolding; I've not written any stories about willing cuckolds and wanted to stretch my literary muscles a little.
For those that have not hit their backspace key, I hope you enjoy this short tale.
*****
The cabin was a fairly new structure, even though it looked dilapidated. The small pen next to the ill-conceived building was also in a state of squalor. The pen was empty; whatever animals it may have contained had simply wandered off through the gaps. Or wild animals entered and slaughtered whatever simple beasts the pen had been constructed to hold.
Even in its decrepit state, Nelson Bryant knew the cabin was a fairly recent addition as the building had not been there this time last year. He cautiously entered the clearing, not knowing the state of mind of the cabin's occupants. If there were any unfortunate occupants.
"Hello there," he called out after carefully surveying the area.
"Is that, who goes there?" a thin voice called out from within the cabin.
"Name's Nelson Bryant, live a piece upstream," Nelson called back.
The door creaked open, nearly falling over as it did. A young man, probably in his late teens, early twenties stepped out onto the ramshackle porch. In his arm he cradled a shotgun.
Nelson almost snorted at this; the way the young man held the gun, even if he was a threat, the young man had no chance of lowering the gun and squeezing off a shot before Nelson would overpower him.
"Name's Nelson Bryant," Nelson said and pointed in the direction he had travelled. "Live a day's walk upstream."
"Jacob McAllister," Jacob said. "Day's walk, you say? What you doing down here?"
"On my way to the post," Nelson said, indicating his mule.
The beast was loaded down with hides from the various animals Nelson had trapped in a year's time. The beast just stood, ignoring the two men.
"Jacob, who..." Nelson heard a female voice ask.
Then a pretty blonde woman stepped out onto the porch. Nelson noticed that the boards swayed under the combined weight of the two, even though between the two of them, they couldn't weigh two hundred pounds.
"Howdy ma'am," Nelson said, removing his hat.
"Sir," she said, curtsying slightly.
"My wife, Becca Ann," Jacob said.
The two were young, too young to be here, in the wilderness alone. He was a handsome young man with long brown hair and warm brown eyes. His features looked almost dainty.
Even as her face appeared sunken, starved, she had fine bone structure. Her hair was golden and her large eyes looked pale blue, like a summer sky. If both of them could pack on some winter weight, they'd be very attractive people.
"Mighty fine meet you, ma'am," Nelson said.
Again, he surveyed their structure, their empty pen, the remnants of a garden. The garden had been picked clean, either by the McAllisters, or by the animals that claimed this forest as home.
Nelson suspected it was the animals that had claimed the bulk of the food. The husband and wife looked starved.
"Smelled smoke," Nelson explained why he'd come this close to their home. "Smelled smoke, wanted make sure wasn't nothing burning."
"Just cooking up last of the flour," Becca Ann said.
"Got some salted pork go fine with whatever you fixing make," Nelson offered.
The McAllisters looked at each other, eyes shining with hope. Then Jacob nodded in agreement.
"Sir, whatever you can share with us would be greatly appreciated," he said.
Nelson pulled the reluctant mule to the pen and tied the beast to one of the few posts that did not appear ready to fall over. He then located the pork and a few jars of preserves.
The post was two day's journey from this point, but Nelson was sure he could kill something along the way. There was no shortage of squirrel or rabbit along the way.
He knocked once on the door jamb and entered the one room cabin. The cabin was as poorly constructed on the inside as it had been on the outside. Light filtered into the room from chinks in the low slung roof. The walls looked ready to fall in, trapping the hapless occupants within. Nelson doubted if the window at the rear of the room would even open.
The table and chairs, the pot-bellied stove, and the bed, however, seemed to be of good quality.
"Oh!" Becca Ann gasped in delight as Nelson dropped the pork and jars onto their table.
"Is that, that is rhubarb!" she said, thrilled.
"Yes ma'am, out of my own garden," Nelson agreed. "Mother showed me how do preserves."
The bread she'd made was doughy on the interior, even with a burned crust. Nelson ate as much of the bread as he could, not wanting to appear rude. Becca Ann and Jacob pushed the mealy bread aside and gorged themselves on Nelson's pork and rhubarb and beets.
Over poorly made coffee, the McAllisters disclosed that they'd decided to come out west, to try their hand at living off the land. They'd married two years ago, when Jacob was nineteen and Becca Ann was eighteen years of age. He had been a bookkeeper and she had been the apple of her father's eye. Neither had ever done any manual labor.
"Don't suppose read them newspaper accounts by Cedric Grambling?" Nelson asked, slight smile on his lips.
"Yes," Jacob said, nodding.
"Man's a good story teller," Nelson agreed.
He then lighted his pipe from an ember from the stove.
"Problem is? Cedric Grambling ain't never been outside his New York office," Nelson said and blew out a plume of smoke.
"But he said, a man could really make something of his self out here," Jacob said.
"Could, knew what he was doing," Nelson said.
He regretted his statement the moment he'd said it. True or not, Nelson had just said, in front of Jacob's wife that Jacob was ill-equipped to make a living off of the land. True or not, he had just insulted the man, insulted him in his own home, in front of his wife.
"Need me fetch y'all anything from the post?" he said, hoping to diffuse the situation.
"But you know what you doing, right, Mr. Bryant?" Becca Ann asked, glancing at her husband.
"I uh, well, yes ma'am," Nelson agreed, flushing hotly.
