Ada's Secret (4 page)

We both were breathing heavily, and he spoke out and said, “Where do we go from here?” Laughing, I started releasing my dress. “I don’t know,” I panted, “but let’s let nature take her course.”

He pulled off his shirt and exposed a firm abdomen with rippling muscles and hair pointing to something irresistible. His trousers were tied at his waist and I easily opened the flap, freeing his erection. We both stood on the porch, bathed in the evening air and appreciating each other’s bodies, but my desire could wait no longer. I seized his erect member. The touch of my cool hands as I grasped his manhood elicited a groan like I had never heard before. His eyes fluttered wide and he pushed his erection deeply into my hands. We came together as the night breeze cooled the heat between my legs.

An impish gleam moved in his eyes as he said, “Now wait just a minute lovely lady. Ladies should be first. I think we are a bit ahead of ourselves.” He stood up and gently re-positioned me on the chair as he knelt in front of me.

His warm hands explored my breasts and his tongue teased my nipples. He sucked the cool night air over the sensitive tissue, sending waves of exhilaration through my body. “I’m just starting here,” he said, as he kissed and licked between my breasts and continued down to my dark, wet fur.

Never had I wanted to spread my legs for anything before, but I couldn’t keep them together now. His tongue probed the innermost parts of a region that had never been explored. My breath was ragged as he sucked and pulled the sensitive nerves in the little pouch of excited tissue. Any inhibitions I had were all gone now. He smiled and slowly introduced a gentle finger inside me. I wanted more, and I responded to his fingers moving slowly and rhythmically. I shuddered and moaned until I reached the pinnacle of ecstasy and I felt my body seemingly explode.

Our lips met once more in a passionate kiss. I looked into his eyes, and playfully said, “Ladies should be first, but good things come to those that wait.”

“I’ve been waiting my whole life for this,” he replied, with a twinkle in his eye.

I stood relinquishing my place in the chair so that he could sit. I stroked his magnificent manhood, and then straddled him lowering myself slowly onto his firm erection. Gently, he introduced his throbbing member into my dark passage. The sensation of his organ penetrating me for the first time was startling, yet sensual. His eyes watched me respond as his stiffness filled my warm, wet, and ready darkness. Slowly he guided my hips over his manhood burrowing into my depths. He thrust into me quicker and with a sense of urgency, and I felt the exquisite release rip through him. He shuddered and groaned with pleasure as his hot seed filled my warm darkness.

We sat, joined together, as our passions subsided and gently he pressed his warm hands over my back. I hadn’t realized how chilled my skin had become while exposed to the cool night air. Wrapping me in his arms, he pulled me tightly into his heated chest and kissed me sincerely.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

“Oh, yes,” I sighed. Looking into his eyes, I noticed myriad of stars in the night sky reflected in them.

“You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe you are mine,” he whispered. “Welcome home Ada Burgess.”

I must have died and had gone to Heaven! I wondered if I should I pinch myself and see if this was really happening or just go on dreaming, safe in my Adonis’s arms.

T
he next morning, I rose early and set to work in the kitchen as Patrick milked Buttercup. While getting breakfast together, I thought,
This kitchen shows you were a meticulous bachelor, but your bachelor days are over. You were right about Sam and the cook-stove. This is top-of-the-line. Even Maria at The Silver Dove Ranch would be impressed with the dampers and ability to adjust the heat
.

Deliciously cool air flowed into the kitchen, mingling the smoky, aromatic scent of frying bacon with the intoxicating perfume of apple blossoms.
Apple blossoms, I smell apple blossoms
I thought. Outside the kitchen window were two apple trees swarming with honeybees doing their spring dance as they gathered nectar. This meant Patrick and I would have both honey and apples this summer. I just needed to keep the birds away from the apples and follow the bees to their hive.

Looking to the left I noticed a few plum trees not far from the house. I was so excited I ran outside to inspect them. The trees were loaded with small fruit that held the promise of bushels of plums.
Let me see if they will be ripe soon.
Pulling a small green fruitlet from a bowing limb, I tested it between my teeth. It was not quite ripe yet, but did have a hint of sweetness. I laughed out loud while dancing between the precious trees. Returning to the task at hand, I called, “Breakfast, Patrick. Breakfast is ready.” My summons came out more like a song than a call. Unbelievable contentment splashed through my spirit.

Toweling his face and, much to my dismay, putting an undershirt over his muscular torso, Patrick ducked into the kitchen. His boyish grin beamed life as he plopped his gorgeous body into one of the heavy dining chairs and surveyed the room. “What have you done, woman? What have you done to our kitchen? This used to be a humble bachelor’s place, and now it is a veritable palace fit for a king,” he grinned.

The words “our kitchen” echoed in my brain. Yes, this was
our
kitchen. I watched him dive exuberantly into the fried bacon and eggs, warm crusty biscuits, and strawberry preserves. Coffee, dark and hot with just a little fresh cream skimmed from the morning milking, was sipped from a heavy mug. I loved watching him eat.

“How’s breakfast?” I asked.

“Mighty tasty. I’ll show you around the ranch after breakfast.” he replied as he filled his mouth with another biscuit.

After Patrick and I had finished eating, I quickly wiped the dishes and put them in the dish drainer. “All set, I’m ready for my tour now,” I said, heading out the door.

“Let’s start with the barn,” he laughed, grabbing my hand and pulling me along the path. The dark interior of the barn filled with the early morning sunlight as we opened the doors. As my eyes adjusted to the lighting, I heard a low mooing and my attention was drawn to a stall with an open door leading to an outside pen. A honey-colored jersey cow stood just outside the stall doors, happily grazing on tender green shoots.

“Ada, meet Buttercup,” Patrick introduced formally. Buttercup raised her head and studied me with soft brown eyes. She mooed an easy-going greeting. “I think she likes you,” Patrick laughed as she swished her tail and went back to eating. “Now over here is Sheba’s stall. I believe you two know each other,” he said as if we were old acquaintances. As we traipsed through the large barn, we pleasantly chatted about the pasture fences, the arrival of the bull, and the milk cow’s morning production.

On our way back to the house, Patrick asked, “When we get back to the house will you put most of the milk in those clean jars beside the sink, please?” Patrick looked a bit embarrassed. “I have to confess I’m terrible with gardens so I trade milk and eggs for the neighbors’ produce. Grace, Frank, and the kids will be over with lettuce, rhubarb, and some strawberries for us this afternoon, and I want to make sure the milk is ready for them. “Grace and Frank have been great neighbors for the past five years, and they are excited to meet you. They’ve been with me through thick and thin, and watching their babies grow has kept me from being a fussy old bachelor.”

He gestured over a sagebrush-covered knoll to the south. “Grace and Frank’s ranch is just a short ride from here. We have a signal worked out. If you ever need help, three blasts from the rifle will bring them here pronto. Later, I’ll teach you how to ride a horse and shoot a rifle. Those are two things you will need to know.”

“That would be wonderful,” I said, as I filled the empty jars with the warm, fresh milk. He had no idea that I could outshoot most men and that I had been riding since I was old enough to walk. My thoughts drifted back to my mentors for shooting and riding.

***

W
hen I was at the Silver Dove ranch I would help Bud, the blacksmith, shoe horses. I loved that he never banished me to the kitchen like the other ranch hands. One day he slyly admitted to me, “I’d rather work with you than any of them lazy ol’ trail hands. You got a gentle way with the critters, and you can keep ‘em still while I nail on the shoes.”

All my knowledge of firearms came from Bud too. The firearms at the ranch were very important, and dismantling and cleaning them was part of my responsibilities. Even though I had cleaned most of the firearms at the ranch at one time or another, the men never let me shoot them. “You’re a girl. Girls don’t shoot guns,” the men would laugh.

My gender didn’t make any difference to Bud. One morning after we had been working hard shoeing horses, Bud said, “Ada, you need a little fun in your day. Go get that rifle leaning against the tree. See that ol’ dead tree down there?” As he positioned the rifle in my shoulder Bud drawled, “Keep that muzzle down range and glide the lever, down and up. Get that bullet chambered, take a breath and squeeze the trigger. Keep ‘er deep in your shoulder or she’ll kick like a mule.”

I did as he told me, and as I squeezed the trigger, the sound of the rifle split the crisp fall air. “Oh
yes
, she kicks like a mule. Can I do it again?” I yelped with delight. Bud laughed, “OK, glide the lever down and up again, breathe, aim, but squeeze the trigger slower this time.” Again the rifle barked out its sharp retort, but I had it buried like Bud told me and it didn’t hurt at all. I shot over fifty rounds that afternoon, and I knew that my love of shooting would never go away.

It was only a matter of time before I decided to share my new skill with my best friend Missy Red. Missy was the outcome of a late-night affair between Crackerjack, Lettie’s prize-winning Quarter Horse stud, and a stray mare. One morning we found the little Appaloosa mare contentedly munching hay from our very satisfied stud’s manger. All we could figure was that she had jumped the fence sometime in the night for an indiscretion with Crackerjack. We checked with the locals, but no one claimed her and I fell in love with the rough-riding old mare. “I think I will name you Lady, because there’s nothing ladylike about you,” I laughed as I watched her frolicking around Crackerjack. She seemed to understand and drew her velvety lips into a big horselaugh as she tossed her head and blew soft, friendly snorts at me.

She was a jug-headed, hard keeper, but that horse knew everything about riding and roping, and she was a patient and understanding teacher. Lady died shortly after giving birth to Missy, so Missy and I became a herd of two growing up together. I never had many friends, and Missy needed someone like me who understood her birthright or lack thereof.

Missy didn’t shy away from the sound of the rifle, and soon we were riding and shooting whenever we got a chance. We humbled many a cocky cowboy at Lettie’s rodeos. Ma used to say, “Ada, you can shoot the feet off a rabbit at a full gallop.” I always laughed back to her, “I would much rather make the shot through the neck, Ma. You get dinner that way!”

My pleasant memories were swept away as the realization that I would probably never see my Ma again. Patrick could never meet her, Lettie, or even Jeremiah. Sarah’s words came back to haunt me: “You won’t be able to reveal the truth about yourself ... you’ll be setting yourself up to live a lifetime of lies.” My whole life with Patrick would have to exclude the three people I loved most. My shaking lower lip needed a solid bite to steady its quivering. I turned so Patrick didn’t see my betraying emotion.

***

I
quickly regained my composure and renewed my attention to his animated conversation. “We’ll go to church tomorrow with Grace, Frank, and the kids. I can’t wait to introduce you to the congregation, and then I have a very special surprise for you. Can you fix a picnic supper for the two of us?” Patrick asked.

“Oh yes.” My sadness lifted, and I eagerly communicated an idea for the picnic. “When I went out for the eggs this morning, that old rooster flew up in my face. He’s a menace, and he’s been pecking at the laying hens. I can have that ornery old cock ready for the frying pan this afternoon.”

A mischievous fire danced in Patrick’s dark chocolate eyes. “Be careful, woman, I don’t want you mistreating my cock!”

“You get back to that dirty old barn with that kind of talk,” I said. Laughing, I fell into his arms. “Now go before I put you to work here in this kitchen.”

Later that afternoon with my hatchet in hand, that nasty old rooster met a quick, painless end as he flew at me one last time. Carrying my bounty back to the house I heard Patrick yelling from the barn and looked up in horror.

“Coyotes are after the cows! Ada, get me the rifle!” screamed Patrick. I looked across the pasture as three grey cannon balls of fur and teeth nipped at one of the hysterical heifers. Kicking and bawling, the heifer ran towards the safety of the herd, but another attacking wraith cut her off. The other frightened cows stood unable to protect their sister as the three howling banshees besieged their prey.

My thoughts quickly snapped into place. I remembered Patrick had left the Winchester propped on the porch. Reflexes from years of riding the herds on Lettie’s ranch came back quickly. Instinctively I raised and settled the rifle’s butt deep in my shoulder.
“Glide the lever, breathe, aim, and squeeze the trigger.” Crack!
Fur and gnashing teeth crumpled in a silent pile.
“Glide the lever, breathe, aim, and squeeze the trigger.” Crack!
The second nemesis tumbled, twitched, and moved no more.
“Glide the lever, breathe, aim, squeeze the trigger.” Crack!
The third attacker yelped and tried to run away, but his hind leg dangled uselessly. “Damn. I missed!” I knew I needed to put him down. In his present state, he would never make it in the wild. “Animals don’t need to suffer even predators like these,” I said.

Quickly chambering another shot I took an extra second before firing to make sure I hit the mark. The tormented sounds from the animal stopped as his lifeless body came to rest at the hooves of the bawling cows.