A Desperate Deal Goes South

The first hints of the sun were creeping up the horizon when a signpost notified the tired travelers that the town of Ingle was two miles south.

"Finally," Grant murmured more to himself than Esther. They had been riding for hours through the high desert to get away from the bloody scene where the now dead man had tried to attack Esther.

Esther was too tired to respond to Grant. Although she wasn't yet showing, her pregnancy and the last few days were starting to take a toll. Grant stopped his horse, Sunshine, and told Esther to change into her other, conservative dress. Esther had become so used to the dress Grant made her alter the modest one felt heavy and hot.

In less than an hour Sunshine carried the pair to the edge of dusty Ingle.

It was a small town and rather lifeless, a town people ended up at as opposed to choosing. But the few people in the unpaved streets were friendly enough, and smiled at Grant and his pretty companion.

Grant stopped at the first and mostly likely only inn. He helped Esther off the horse and they entered the shabby building together. An old man sat behind a wooden counter reading a month-old newspaper. He looked surprised and a little too happy to see Esther and Grant walk in.

"Welcome to Ingle, folks," he rose from his chair and stood behind the counter. "Will you be in need of a room?"

"Yes, thank you. One room for me and my wife. Our horse is outside," Grant responded. Esther doubted the old man would check if they were wearing rings but it still worried her. If the man thought they weren't married he could turn them away and all she wanted in the world was a bed.

"One room coming right up," the old man said to Esther's relief. "That'll be a dollar, fifty. And I will see to your horse."

Grant pulled out the cash from his wallet and set it on the counter. The old man turned around and grabbed a key from the wall.

"Right this way, folks."

He led them to a small but clean room. Beside a bed with a floral quilt and one chair, there was no other furniture. Grant set down his bags in the corner.

"Is there anything else I can get you folks?" the clerk asked.

"Where's the best place for a hot meal around here?" Grant asked.

"That'll be May's Place, just down the street four buildings. It'll be opening just about now."

"Thank you."

The clerk nodded, handed Grant the key, and left, closing the door behind him.

"Will you be wanting some breakfast?" Grant asked Esther.

She was so tired she thought she'd just collapse in bed, but the thought of food made her realize her hunger.

"I'll be wanting some breakfast."

"S'go."

They found May's Place easy enough. There were two long tables with benches running the length of the room. A blue gingham table cloth a little too short for the tables sat on each one. There were a few other diners, mostly single men, but a family with three small children and a baby as well.

"You match the tables," Grant said. Esther smiled.

A woman came out of what was presumably the kitchen. "Sit where you like. Menu is set. It'll be eggs, bacon, bread and as much coffee as you can drink at fifteen cents a plate."

They sat near the family. The mom looked up and gave Esther a tired smile, which Esther returned with a tired smile of her own.

Grant leaned close Esther's ear. "That's going to be you soon," he joked.

"Not if I can help it."

"You never know. What if you're carrying triplets. Or even quadruplets?"

"Then I suppose I'll die in childbirth anyway," she joked darkly.

"Guess we'll have to build your strength up so that doesn't happen," Grant said as the woman came out of the kitchen with two plates loaded with fried eggs, oily bacon and thick slices of buttered bread. She returned with a metal coffee pitcher and poured them two large mugs of coffee.

Grant closed as his eyes as he took his first sip.

"Missed it?" Esther asked.

"More than you could know."

"Doesn't that make you feel...stereotypical? A rancher who loves his coffee?"

"You're one to talk. A poor, knocked up farm girl from Oklahoma."

Esther's face fell. Grant sighed. "I was making a joke. Just enjoy your food and forget I said that."

It was the first time he admitted to overstepping.

After Grant paid the thirty cents for their meal, Esther turned left to return to the inn.

"Not so fast," Grant grabbed her arm. "We've got a couple errands, and then you can sleep."

"Fine," Esther sighed.

First Grant bought some supplies which he'd pick up on their way out of town. He also purchased a pair of thigh high black stockings with black lace garters. Esther blushed profusely as the cashier handed over the package.

Then Grant stopped in front of a small building with a faded "Pictures" painted on a sign.

"Ever got your picture taken?" Grant asked.

"No. Ma said it would make a girl vain."

"Well today's your lucky day."

A bell tinkled when Grant pushed open the door. A short man with round glasses and sweating arm pits was quick to greet them. He seemed eager for business.

"Welcome, welcome. Right this way to the studio. What's the occasion? An engagements perhaps, or newlyweds?" They followed him as he rattled away, giving each other amused looks.

"Just a picture of her," Grant responded. "I'm going to be traveling and want something to remember my dear wife by."

"Of course, of course. How romantic indeed." He glanced at Esther's plain dress. "We've got a selection of costumes and dresses, if you would rather wear something else. Of course that dress is fine too," he ran a hand through his hair, suddenly nervous that she'd be insulted.

"Yes, let's take a look," Grant said. There was a dowel wedged into the corner of the studio with a few suits and dresses hanging on it. In a wooden box next to it were hats, scarves, ties, a bustle, and other under garments.

Esther started sifting through the dresses on the rack, while Grant rummaged through the box.

"There we are," he stood up with his finding--a black underbust corset.

The photographer looked a bit uncomfortable but didn't say anything.

Esther turned to see what Grant was holding up. She'd never worn a corset before but she didn't see how it could hurt to have a more sculpted waist for the picture. She nodded and turned back to the dresses.

"No, just this," Grant clarified.

"Sir," the photographer squeaked before awkwardly cleared his throat. "We don't really, um, take photographs of that nature," he said turning scarlet.

"I think you can make an exception this time. I'll be sure to pay you for your trouble. And what kind of man turns down the chance to see a beautiful, naked girl?"

"I, well," the man couldn't think of a rebuttal. "Let me at least lock the door while I think it over."

"Have you got any makeup?"

"Over there," the photographer gestured to a small table with glasses, and a few cosmetics and other accessories.

"Come over here," Grant instructed Esther.

She reluctantly approached the table.

"Have you ever painted your face?" he asked.

Esther nodded.

She wasn't supposed to, but she'd once found a dirty magazine full of pictures of whores with painted eyes and lips that she found both beautiful and frightening. She would sometimes put some candle soot around her eyes just to see what it would look like before quickly washing it off.

Esther reached for a puff and powder, and patted some on her face, the way women in picture books did to make their skin even-toned and soft. Then she took a black pencil, carefully outlining her eyes with it, smudging it with her pinky at the outer corners, before painting the lashes with a small pot of black liquid and a brush.

There was some rouge that she dabbed on the apples of her cheeks and for a final touch, she painted her lips a deep red. The final effect seemed garish and alien to Esther.

"Alright, I'm done."

Grant handed her the black corset and the package of black stockings he'd just bought.

"Put these on. And only these. Take everything else off."

She looked around for a private place to change, aware of the irony. In the adjacent corner a curtain sectioned off a small area.

She took off her boots, tights, dress, and undergarments. Her skin felt tinglingly exposed.Then she opened the paper packaging containing the sheer black stockings, pulling them up to the middle of her thighs, and securing them with two lacy black garters.

The corset was made of a black cotton sewn over whale bone, with tiny, delicate rosettes and leaves embroidered in black silk thread. The top of the corset stopped just below the bust, designed to prop of breasts but not cover them. Of course, it was designed to go under a dress.

Esther unlatched the hooks on the front, and secured it around her waist, re-latching the hooks. She reached behind her back to find the tightening chords, pulling them as hard as she could before tying them and tucking them inside the corset.

There was no mirror so she didn't know how she looked with her breasts popping out of the top of the corset and her pussy on display below it.

She took a deep breath and pushed aside the curtain.

"I'm ready."

Grant held out his hand, "Madame," he said in an exaggerated gentlemanly tone.

He lead her to the camera where the photographer was trying to seem busy but couldn't help stealing glances at Esther's body. Her face and body felt hot under the men's gaze.

There was an upholstered chair with arms rests sitting directly under a skylight to provide natural lighting.

Esther moved to sit in the chair.

"Wait," Grant stopped her, reaching towards her hair. He removed the pins and her brunette hair fell in long wavy strands. He ran his hands through it, and Esther's scalp tingled under the touch.

"Now you're ready."

Esther sat in the chair, and Grant assessed her body like an artist assesses a painting before arranging her limbs.

Grabbing her by the hips, he pulled her into a slouching position with her ass towards the front of the chair and her neck leaning against the middle of the chair's back. Taking her right arm, he draped it along the armrest, then led her left hand above her head to grasp the top of the chair.

He grabbed her knees, uncrossing them and spreading her legs wide open. Esther gasped and turned her face away.

"No," Grant gently grabbed her chin and turned her face towards him. "I want to see your whole face."

Grant stepped back from the chair and turned to the photographer. "I reckon it's time."

Esther thought the pose with her outfit and makeup must look incredibly awkward, vulgar, and even comical but she didn't move and stared straight into the dark, round eye of the camera.

The photographer was ready, and given the bulge in his pants, was enjoying the process a bit too much. Camera technology had progressed enough in the 1880s that it only took a few seconds for him to get the picture.

Esther was surprised when after a moment he said, "Alright, give me a minute to develop this. Would you like the picture on glass or tin?"

"Wouldn't want to risk it breaking, so tin I suppose," Answered Grant.

The photographer nodded and disappeared into the small, dark room next to the studio.

Esther rose from the chair and headed to the curtain to change back into her modest dress. She half expected Grant to keep her in the chair, maybe even fuck her right there in the studio but he let her get changed without a word.

On the table next to the makeup was a bowl, pitcher of water, and cake of soap which Esther used to thoroughly scrub the makeup from her face.

After more than a few minutes, which Esther guessed the photographer was using for nefarious purposes, he emerged (with cheeks noticeably redder) with the developed photo in the form of a tintype.

He handed it to Grant and Esther didn't get a chance to see it.

"That'll be thirty-face cents," he said. Not only had he not charged extra, he'd given Grant a discount. It made Esther feel cheap.

Grant shelled out the money without protest, thanked him for his work and exited the building with Esther in tow. Esther could feel the photographers eyes on her ass as she left. Their business was undoubtedly a memory he would not forget.

Once on the street, Esther wordlessly walked next to Grant towards the inn. Grant glanced at her. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Does my answer even matter?"

"Of course."

"That was never part of the agreement. I never agreed to include other men. Now another stranger has seen me," she glanced around to make sure no one was near, "seen me naked. And I thought this would all end once we got to Branden and I found Rob. Now you have a, a record."

"Esther, if you didn't want a picture of your spread pussy and tits out why didn't you say anything? I didn't force you to do anything."

With a start Esther realized he was right. She hadn't protested at all. Not a single word of objection. She'd painted her face, undressed, and had a permanent photo taken of her mostly naked, trussed up body without so much as a moments hesitation. Like a lamb to slaughter she'd accepted her fate without question, like it was her purpose, like she was okay with it all.

What was wrong with her?

Before she could retort, they'd made it back to the inn. They silently found their room, Grant locking the door behind them. "For safety," he clarified, setting the key down on the chair so Esther had full access.

Esther sat on the edge of the bed and started taking her boots off. She was almost too tired to be angry at Grant or herself. She would process it all after she'd slept.

"Don't you want to see it?" Grant interrupted her groggy thoughts. He handed her the tintype without waiting for a response.

The black and white picture was not at all what she expected. She didn't look garish or awkward. She somehow didn't even look vulgar.

She looked stunning.

Her hair framed her face in voluminous, wild waves, unlike she'd even worn before. The pose looked relaxed, yet confident, as if only a truly alluring woman who knew her appeal and power could strike it.

Her skin looked tantalizingly soft, with the curves of her hips and breasts casting shadows begging to be explored.

But it was her face that surprised Esther the most.

Her eyes were heavy in a sleepy, sensual way and upon staring long enough, glinted with mischief or mirth or...was it defiance?

Esther had to admit to herself even if she'd never admit to Grant, photographs could indeed turn a girl vain, and she was glad her young, beautiful body was permanently captured in one.

And with that, Esther took off her dress, got in the bed, and fell into a deep sleep.

...

Although this was the first time they spent the night in a proper bed, Grant didn't do so much as fondle his sleepy companion, letting her rest undisturbed for the rest of the day and most of the night.

Esther woke up before dawn, finding herself alone in the cozy room. It had been several days since she was in just her own company. She found the room key on the floor near the door which Grant must have used to lock the door from the outside and then slid it under the door. She went down the hall to use the restroom and bathe.

She had just dressed, and was pinning up her hair when Grant knocked.

"Good, you're awake," he greeted her. "I've packed Sunshine and picked up the supplies. We'll make the ranch by nightfall tomorrow if we hurry."

Her heart skipped a beat. She didn't realize how close they were to Branden, Texas. She needed to rehearse what she was going to say to Rob.

Esther smelled coffee on Grant and realized he must have had breakfast without her. She was hungry, but didn't want to slow them down so said nothing.

Once they were well on their way, Esther found herself more curious about Grant now that in just a day or so she'd be free of him forever.

"I never asked," she began. "Why'd you travel so far by yourself for a business deal? Couldn't you have sent someone, or communicated through the post?"

"There's some deals big enough you only want to make them in person no matter how much you trust the people working for you."

Esther wondered just how big they were talking. With his charm and rugged good looks she was sure he struck deals easily with no one suspecting him of being a brute.

"How'd you come to be a rancher?"

"My pa was a rancher. Not a very good one. I helped him out since I was little and then inherited what he had and grew it from there."

"You must have grown it quite a bit to be taking so many days to complete one deal."

Grant smiled. "Well I'd be going twice as fast if it weren't for another deal I ended up making," his hand wandered down Esther's abdomen and rested between her legs. "And yeah, you could say I saw what my pa's mistakes were and learned what didn't make a successful ranch."

She was so sensitive down there even with layers of clothes between his touch that she almost laughed from the tingle. But Grant didn't do anything beyond that. He wanted to cover as much ground as possible while it was still light.

Despite having her pussy fucked once, and giving him a couple rather rough blowjobs, Esther felt pretty unscathed given the deal that he could do anything he wanted to her body while traveling to Branden, Texas. She felt confident she could pray away the guilt eventually, especially once Rob married her and she gave birth. Some sacrifices were necessary.

The landscape around them rapidly changed from dusty, high desert to hills with tall grasses and clusters of trees and boulders.

The sun had long set, and a bright moon shone overhead when Grant stopped Sunshine next to some boulders that formed a small, cave-like shelter. A small stream coming from the West gurgled nearby.

He lit a small fire and laid out their sleeping mats. Esther looked expectantly at Grant as her stomach loudly grumbled. She hadn't eaten since breakfast the day before.

"You can't have supper just yet," he said without looking at her. He was rummaging in one of his bags.

"Why not? Are you punishing me?"

"That's not how I would punish you." Finding what he was looking for, he pulled his hand out the bag holding a strange object. It was a very thin metal tube attached to a rubber ball. Esther had never seen anything like it.

"I'm going to need you to clean yourself with this," Grant said handing the object to Esther.

"What is this? I don't understand."

"I wouldn't expect you to know what it is. It's called a douche. You squeeze the rubber ball to fill it with water and spray it inside yourself. Your ass actually, to be more specific."

"My... why? I clean myself. I just bathed today."

"Well I need you to be clean inside and out. If you don't want to do it yourself, I'll have to do it for you, though I'd prefer not to."

"No, I'll, I'll do it myself." Esther was humiliated. She always thought of herself as well groomed, but to Grant she apparently was not.

The boulders blocked the view of Esther at the stream, giving her some privacy. She removed her clothes and squatted in the water. It was cold, but not unbearably so. Filling the douche with water, she tentatively slid it an inch inside her ass. It was thin enough to not hurt, but it was incredibly uncomfortable. Esther felt grotesque cleaning herself out like that.

After she repeated the process a few times, she cleaned her skin and the douche well with soap and rinsed in the stream before using a cloth to dry herself off and put her dress back on.

She wouldn't look at Grant when she got back.

"Why'd you put your dress back on? Take everything off."

Esther rolled her eyes and peeled all her clothes off her damp skin.

"Now get on all fours on your sleeping mat. I'm going to train you."

Esther had no idea what he meant by training, but obeyed. She saw the tapered cylinder he'd whittled a few days before was next to him. It was a littler thicker than the neck of a bottle and about eight inches long.