I ll Fall in Love Again Chapter 3
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The wagon train started up again the next day. It was painful for the injured, but all agreed that they should put some distance in, in case the bushwackers came back. Hank didn’t call them bushwackers, he called them frigging, mother-fucking, cock-sucking, minge-loving, shit-eating, pissheads. A description that turned a few women’s ears bright red. Others nodded. These women were starting to become independent. They did all hustle their children out of earshot though.
They turned up the broad dry valley where ruts showed previous west-bound wagons had gone. Slowly, not to tire the animals, they climbed the slope; stopping a couple of times to camp for the night. At the top the stream that would be a torrent in March made a welcome pool of water and then fell over an edge and disappeared. Years later someone would track its underground passage, but for now the vanishing stream was a mystery.
The pool was segmented to allow the animals to take on water without defecating in the whole pool of clear water. Some waded in fully clothed to cool off. Ahead was the last leg to Beka Valley. Some would think of settling there, others would continue towards the sea. Others still would wander the world with never a place to lay their head. Mark Whistler – the fourth guard - was one, he had travelled with cattle and people and saw little difference. He found that now he craved silence. At Beka Valley he would take his meagre earnings and wander off, to be found four years later by wandering hunters, a wizened and emaciated creature unable to stand. They were not charity workers. They left him to his last few weeks of life. He died with a resigned whimper, not a bang.
That night the air was cool and the sky clear. People stayed up late to watch a meteor shower. Some Livonites said they were angels coming to earth to protect the chosen. That showed an unexpected romance in their strange beliefs. The O’Haras had taken in Sara, a Livonite girl caught in flagrante with a boy. Her family had cast her out rather than take the risk of the moral infection catching the rest of them. The girl would have died and the O’Haras, who had little enough, took her in and fed her their weak soup. Perhaps it was that that made Hank Jedburgh finally accept there might be some good Irish. Not that he would have taken the girl in; that wasn’t his business. But he had a certain admiration for a family with nothing being willing to share that nothing with others.
Slowly pairs of lovers drifted to their rest, or not rest exactly. The boy caught with the Sara engineered to be left with her. It seemed unfair to the O’Hara girls that he received no punishment for planting his seed, but the earth he planted it in was cursed. “It’s the way of the world. I did tell you” said Mrs O’Hara; she walked away arm in arm with her husband “Now, girls, don’t stay out too late”.
Nuala knew she was a gooseberry. Sinead made it amply clear that it was her rosebud that Cavendish would have tonight. She let Nuala know that there was no discussion; after the previous, painful session Nuala affected to be disappointed but was somewhat relieved. Still, she also thought Sinead might also need protecting from offering a cherry instead of a rose. The two, likewise, encouraged her to come with them as they made their way to the pool. As they left, Sara and Willum appeared “May we come too?”
“Shush. Quietly now”
They reached the pool and looked across a still, dark mirror. One of them dipped a hand in “Its freezing! Any man’s willy would shrink to nothing, no matter what the encouragement”
“Well what then?” said Sinead, “I’m not losing out.” Nuala, found her enthusiasm infectious. She had had a sore bum for two days after, but she was beginning to want to fell that piston pumping her again.
“Wait, “ was all Sara said and she disappeared, returning soon after with some lard.
“Lard! Seriously? I mean, well. No. I mean, well, I suppose it is like a sausage. Oh, fuck me!” finished Sinead in an expression of frustration.
“I’d love to” rejoined Cavendish
“No! You know the deal!”
Sara and Willum were not so inhibited, they had been caught in the early stages of sex and had been waiting for the chance to finish what they started. They were not going for manual, oral or anal; they were ready for the real thing whether hellfire awaited them or not. They moved away a little and the three left watched, pretending not to, as the couple started kissing, cuddling, caressing and quickly lifting Sara’s nightgown. She was naked under it; in the moonlight that was clear. She lifted Willum’s nightshirt and then looked at the three and smiled, as if to say ‘look at this massive dick, and it’s all mine’ And that was true, later they saw that he was indeed all hers, or all inside her. The girls wondered how Sara could accommodate what looked like a Salami rather than a thin chipolata.
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