Lulabelle in the West Bk. 01

"Stepmother Henrietta!" Wesley yelled.

Hetty ran to them and hugged all the boys, but she was confused by the sight of the dirty but beautiful young woman who had ridden in by their side.

"This is our friend, Miss Lulabelle Flowers," Boone said. "She'll be staying with us for the time being."

"Yes, of course," Hetty said.

Lula smiled beautifully, the way she always does. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Hetty," she said. "The boys have told me how very nice you are."

"Oh. Well thank you," Hetty said, sounding a little befuddled. "I'm very pleased to meet you, too. I brought a traveler with me, as well. I'd like you all to meet my sister, Miss Augusta Weatherford. She very kindly accompanied me, and...I do believe she likes it here."

"But who wouldn't?" Boone said. He stepped over to Gussie and took her hand. "Augusta?"

"Gussie," she said in her softly southern accent, blushing at being so informal with a tall, good-looking cowboy. Hetty had told her that the stepsons were aged twenty-eight, thirty, and thirty-three, but she was taken aback by the handsome maturity of them.

"I'm Boone Perry, and these are my brothers, Wesley and Elijah. And this is Miss Lulabelle Flowers."

"Call me Lula, please," Lulabelle said, smiling.

"You all must be hungry, and need washing up," Hetty said. "I wasn't sure when you'd arrive, but we can put together some hearty food in a hurry. Come, Gussie, let's set the table."

When Hetty and Gussie had arrived at the closed-up homestead one of the first things Hetty did was check on the stores in the root cellar. She found Edwin's stash of whiskey, some hard cheese and jars of molasses, and a few salt-cured hams packed in a barrel. Mice had gnawed at the containers, but they hadn't made it through. All the food was intact and edible; with boiled potatoes and fresh bread and sweet dried fruit, it made quite a feast for the trail-weary travelers.

The boys were amazed at what their father had built. As they filled their hungry stomachs at the big table, their eyes never stopped taking it all in.

"How'd he get glass windows way out here?" Elijah asked.

"We had an Irish carpenter amongst the hands," Hetty said. "A fine young man with green eyes. He built the windows and the doors and some of the other more detailed things."

Lula smiled. "Green eyes? Did you take a shine to him, Hetty?"

Hetty smiled shyly, and she blushed a little. She didn't answer Lula's question.

Gussie didn't say much at the dinner table. She was busy trying to suss out personalities, and she was interested to see the three sons' similarities to their deceased father. She'd only met Edwin a few times, but she'd liked him and she understood why her sister had been attracted to him. Boone had many of the same qualities, and the younger brothers were reminiscent as well. Lulabelle Flowers was the wildcard that Gussie couldn't figure out. None of them appeared to be boyfriend and girlfriend, or husband and wife, and yet the boys were all tall and handsome and Lula was strikingly pretty and possessing of the most feminine body Gussie had seen in a while. The daughter of Gussie's banker in Virginia was a similarly eye-catching young woman, and that girl had so many suitors her father kept a shotgun by the door.

Gussie was also starting to worry about the sleeping arrangement. The bunkhouse was just that, one big wide-open room, with a corner kitchen, a big dining table with lots of chairs, and ten single beds, enough to sleep all the hired hands Edwin had expected he'd need to run the ranch. His plan for the next phase of the project was the building of a house that he and Hetty would have lived in, but he died before a single piece of wood was cut for it.

Gussie had anticipated the problem, of course, and had already strung up a curtain made of horse blankets she'd found in the barn, wool ones that were unfortunately moth-eaten. It had taken her days to sew patches over all the holes, a job that she was glad she'd finished before the brothers' arrival. But the arrangement still left her stomach churning with nerves. Sleeping in the same room with young men seemed fundamentally wrong to her, not Christian at all. And then there was the problem of Lulabelle. Gussie's colorfully patched wool blanket curtain only enclosed two beds. There would have to be a re-working of the hanging, right away, right after dinner, and she was nervous about how it would work out. Was there even enough of the heavy wool to shield three helpless women from the prying eyes of three virile young men?

It turned out there was, just barely. Hetty and Gussie and Lulabelle had to push their beds closer together, but it was enough. Gussie walked around the room surveying all the angles. She reluctantly proclaimed it workable, but she didn't look forward to darkness and undressing for the night's sleep.

The evening featured some whiskey drinking, but not too much. Hetty gave the boys their inheritance — the deed to the acreage that included Perryville Valley, and nearly nine thousand dollars in gold-certified United States one-hundred-dollar bills.

"Nine thousand dollars?" Boone said, his eyes wide with disbelief at the unexpected fortune. "Hetty, I hope you took a share. As father's wife you deserve to be included."

"I don't need it. Your father and I never had a need to dip into my dowry, so I'll be fine. I'm just happy you boys will be able to make something of this place. You can buy a herd of cattle, and build a proper town if you want. Just be careful with it. Your father would be disappointed if this place doesn't work out the way he dreamed."

The boys celebrated with another glass of whiskey. Lula and Hetty joined in, but Gussie was reserved and mostly silent. The celebration, and the life Hetty had been a part of, wasn't hers. Her stomach was still churning. Getting undressed that evening was the most nerve-wracking thing she'd ever done. She took her Bible to bed with her.

—

Chapter 3

Three days passed, and much work was done around the ranch: mending fences, chopping firewood for the stove and the coming winter, fixing a leak in the bunkhouse roof, and shoring up a part of the foundation that had heaved in the frosts of previous winters.

Hetty kept busy, of course, but she also kept her eyes open. At various times, she saw Lula kissing each of the brothers, sometimes when another brother was with them. She saw Lula go into the barn with each of the boys, spending time there that didn't involve any chores that Hetty was aware of. She spoke of it to Gussie. The implications disgusted Gussie and she prayed for the boys' salvation. Hetty didn't pray with her.

Hetty observed more than just Lula's secretive meetings with the boys. She was getting a feel for Lula's character, and genuinely starting to like the young woman. Lula seemed to be honest, and quite obviously full of life, with a delightful youthful spirit. Hetty hoped to draw those characteristics out of her in a way that would spill over onto Gussie. It was on their fourth day together that it came to pass, washing day, when all three women were doing laundry in the river, nearly side by side under the vast blue Colorado sky. Hetty got to thinking about Lula's obvious experience with men, and she decided to take a chance and ask her a delicate question, even though she knew it would upset Gussie.

"The boys' father was a virile man, but he also enjoyed...observance. I've often wondered if he was unusual. Have you ever come across a man like that?"

Lula smiled in a small but noticeable way. "Do you mean a man who likes to watch fornication?"

"Yes," Hetty said, feeling the heat of a nervous blush.

"Hetty, that's more common than you might think."

Hetty held tightly to the man's shirt that was trying to float away in the river's current. She scrubbed it with her hands to loosen the dirt. "I've noticed you with the boys, the way you are with each of them. Are you their concubine?"

Lula knew Hetty had seen her with at least two of the brothers, so she decided to tell the truth. "No, Hetty, I'm not their concubine. I'm their lover. I love them and they love me. It's been that way since winter, but our month on the trail to reach this magical place did help to clarify it. When we were together all of those weeks it made us realize the depth of our love."

The charming young redhead's honesty enthralled Hetty, and as Hetty had predicted, it shocked Gussie. But it also interested her. Gussie was convinced that Lula's lifestyle was whorish, but more and more she was fascinated by her.

"I've seen you kissing each of them, while the others are within sight of it," Hetty said. "There's no...jealousy?"

"Not a bit. The Perry boys are different that way. I am, as well."

Hetty thought about it all and wondered what she should say. She decided to tell the truth, the way Lula had done. "Edwin was that way. It seems to be a family trait," she said, smiling shyly. "When the hired hands were here last year, building the bunkhouse and the barns, it was a long, hot summer. I was the only woman, for miles around."

When Hetty paused, Gussie's heart started to pound so hard she could barely draw a breath.

"Did you all live together in the bunkhouse?" Lula asked.

"Yes," Hetty said. "In a big tent at first, and then in the bunkhouse. Everything was quite...communal."

Lula's lips curled into a little smile. "Everything?" she asked.

Hetty nodded, her face red with the heat of confession.

"Hetty!" Gussie gasped.

"It was Edwin's idea for me to try it," Hetty said, "but he left it up to me to decide. I must admit I liked it. I liked it very much."

Gussie sighed and sat back hard on the pebbly riverbank. Looking like she was about to keel over, she fanned her face with her hand.

"Now that the honesty has come forth, I must confess even more," Hetty continued. "I came back to this valley with lust in my heart. The most powerful lust. It's been a lonely, lonely winter and spring. This place, this magical, wonderful valley, was on my mind every day. The memories are strong."

"Come to the house and pray with me, Hetty!" Gussie pleaded, nearly in tears. "Come to the house and pray!"

"I brought you here, Gussie, because you're an unmarried woman. I want you to experience the glories of the other side."

"The glories? Of the Devil? There's no such thing, Hetty! Have you lost your mind?"

"Maybe," Hetty said. "Maybe I have. Last summer was powerful. More powerful than any church."

"How many hands were there, Hetty?" Lula asked.

"Three. Three fine, strapping young men, all of them able to put in a solid day's work. I cooked for them, of course, and they ate like there was no tomorrow. They gave everything their all."

"Where are they now?"

"I asked after them when we passed through town last week. They've all scattered, as far as I know."

"It's all making sense now," Lula said. "Now I know why you were so surprised to see me arrive with the boys; why you seemed disappointed that I was here."

"It was a shock, I'll admit it," Hetty said. "I'm still trying to sort through my feelings. It seems like I was pulled here by thoughts not my own. Drawn back to this place, this valley. I'm afraid I can't explain it."

"It's the Devil," Gussie said, still sitting on wet pebbles at the very edge of the water. She could feel it soaking through her dress, but she was powerless to move.

"What you feel is desire, Hetty," Lula said. "There's nothing wrong with it. It's a woman's prerogative, in this day and age. It's eighteen seventy five! We're women! We should have a say in our desires, and how we quench them!"

"If only that were so," Hetty said, sounding dejected. "The year doesn't matter. Nothing ever changes."

"But this is Perryville!" Lula said, trying to cheer her up. "You and Edwin made it in your own vision. It is what it is!"

Gussie looked on in disbelief at the conversation. She wondered if her sister had brought her directly into the Devil's lair.

Hetty looked unsure about Lula's proclamation. "It is what it is? But what is it? A valley so beautiful it brings tears to my eyes? Yes, it is that. The ground where my dear husband is buried? Yes, it is that. But what more? I must admit I'm less lonely. Seeing the boys is a great comfort, every day."

"Is seeing them wash in the river a great comfort?" Lula asked, with a mischievous smile. "I've seen you, Hetty. Two days ago, I watched you watching them. I don't say this to shame you. I say it to help you. We're women! We should have a say!"

Hetty smiled nervously. "Should we?"

"Yes! Men have always done it, watched women bathe in rivers and ponds. They peek through cracks in doors and walls to watch women bathe indoors. Why should we not empower ourselves to do the same?"

Gussie raised her hand, the one that usually had a Bible in it. "Because it's wrong!" she said. "Evil has a way of creeping up on you! If you let it, you'll be dragged down to the gates of hell!"

"The gates of hell," Lula smirked, "have been greatly exaggerated."

Hetty chuckled, and it felt good.

"The boys know nothing of your interest, by the way," Lula said. "And I won't tell them, unless you want me to. There is something else to think of, though. Why do you think they bathe in the stretch of river so near the house? Do you not think they realize they're within the view of both you and Gussie? There is a powerful force at work here, and it's not the Devil. It's God's work. Only God can make things that are as beautiful as this valley, and as beautiful as the naked bodies of strong young men. Even you, Gussie, must believe that."

Hetty smiled at Lula. "You preach the gospel of love. You're a smarter girl than I thought you'd be."

Gussie spoke up. "If you think gazing upon the naked flesh of a man who is not your husband is a smart thing to do, I shall find some passages of the Bible for you to study. But I can not disagree with one thing — only God can make things that are as beautiful as this place. I felt the power of this valley as soon as Hetty drove our buggy over the ridge and down into it. There's a spirit here that makes me feel so much more alive than I felt back home in Virginia. I'd be grateful if you didn't desecrate it with talk of the evils of the flesh."

"What of God creating man?" Lula asked. "Is man not beautiful, too?"

"A clothed man can be handsome," Gussie admitted. "Of course I believe that to be true."

"But the clothes are an invention of us, of humans," Lula said. "God delivered us naked. It's only us, women I would guess, who decided clothes should be worn. God made our bodies the same as he made a horse's, or a wild cat's, or a bird's."

"But they have feathers and fur to cover them!" Gussie insisted. "We had to make our own!"

"An animals private parts are in the open, as I'm sure you've seen," Lula said. "A horse's cock is something to behold! Our men, when they do their bathing, are simply out in the open the way nature intended. Their charms are great, as Hetty has seen. Hetty, did the boys get their hammers from their father? Was Edwin's a big as a pump handle?"

Gussie protested with a harrumph, but she didn't get up and leave, as she easily could have. She sat and listened.

"Yes, a pump handle is about right," Hetty said, smiling shyly. "One of our hands had an even larger hammer. When he had a horn it was more than impressive. Donkey-hung, with large plums."

"Do you enjoy the ball-bags?" Lula asked. "I find them fascinating."

Gussie's heart was pounding to the point of cutting off her breath again.

"So soft and delicate," Hetty said. "I love that every big strong man has such a softness."

"The power is ours when they're in our hands," Lula said. "A good squeeze of the plums will bring the strongest man to his knees."

Hetty chuckled nervously. She was enjoying talking to Lula about men. The two women splashed more pieces of dirty clothing into the gin-clear river, slapping them on the nearest rock. Gussie breathed deep, trying to steady her heart. After a few quiet moments, with no sound but the gurgling of river water and the slapping and squeezing of wet clothes, Hetty spoke...

"They're not my sons. The boys were born to another mother."

"Yes, I'm aware," Lula said.

"My sister seems to think otherwise, even though she knows the truth."

"I know the truth, and I don't think otherwise," Gussie said. "You are not their mother, but you are also not their wife. You are nearly the age of their mother. Have you not thought of that? Are thoughts of the sins of the flesh altering your mind? I declare, Hetty, sometimes I just don't recognize the sister I once knew."

"And yet you say you love this valley," Hetty said. "You feel its power and its spirit. What you feel is the spirit of the flesh. You've known all winter, haven't you, what went on here last summer. You gleaned it from my silence, and from the words I carefully chose to keep it all to myself. You read me like a book, and now you are here, here in this very valley where the flesh reigns supreme. I could ask you why, dear Gussie, but I know. I know why you're here."

Gussie turned her red blushing face away from her sister. She squeezed the rinse water out of a pair of men's trousers, twisting them hard in her white-knuckled fists. She was embarrassed; her innermost thoughts were being outed in front of Lula. "So, what of it?" she said, twisting the pant leg tight again. "Am I a sinner now? Is Virginia a better place for me? Back amongst the men in suits and ties, men who, to the last one of them, decided I was already too old to be desirable? God loves me. His love is all I need."

"Yes, he does love you," Hetty said. "And he brought you here, for a reason. I just hope you're open to it, if and when it presents itself. It's God's beauty, Gussie. Believe me when I tell you. It's God's beauty."

Hetty knew she'd gone too far, spoken much to openly. There was nothing for her sister to be ready for, just crazy dreams in Hetty's own head. She felt a mixture of emotions after the impromptu confession on the river's pebbly bank — nervousness about the way her sister took her honest admissions, and exhilaration from the way Lula took them.

-

That night, Hetty got up to go to the privy. It was an every night occurrence, and she always made it a point to walk past all the sleeping brothers in the dark silvery moonlight. On previous nights she'd seen bare chests and bare backs, and handsome male faces softened with the relaxation of dreams. On that night, during a dream, perhaps, Wesley's blanket had been pushed down, all the way to his thighs. His lean, muscular body lay naked, his cock nearly fully hard. His motionless hand held it, his fingers gently cupping his soft ball-bag, with the long, solid meat of his manhood extending between his thumb and forefinger, resting on his belly. The sight of it stopped Hetty in her tracks, next to his bed. She breathed softly and stood still. She'd seen him naked before, from a distance, bathing in the river, but up close, sleeping, with the hot blood of a sexual dream in him, his quiet masculinity was magnificent.

In the morning, Hetty and Lula walked toward the barn, both of them silent, taking in the splendor of a new day in the valley. They brought with them some crumbs for the chickens, and a jug of drinking water for the brothers. Boone had decided the day's work would be getting the barn cleaned up and ready to house some milking goats. When Hetty and Lula approached, they heard the brother's voices inside the open door. Wesley was speaking...

"I woke last night when Hetty got up out of bed for her privy walk. She always walks right past me on her way, but last night she saw all of me."

"I heard her and saw her," Boone said. "She stood there for the longest time."