Chapter 25: The Holbarth ranch
The Holbarth ranch was bathed in the glow of the full moon when Faye Morgan
arrived. As she entered the compound she eased her horse into a walk sensing
something was wrong. It wasn't just that no light was visible in the windows of
the cabin, but the general look of neglect. The barn door was open and the logs
of the corral gate had been taken down and strewn about haphazardly. She could
see the silhouette of a large skeletal lump lying within the corral. A horse or
cow. She couldn't tell which. She hitched her horse to the rail in front of the
cabin wishing she had a gun as she cautiously entered the open door.
Moonlight coming through the windows gave enough light so that she could make
her way around the interior. She saw a lamp on the table, but she couldn't find
any matches nearby. A crude looking armoire stood by a wire-framed bed. She
would be able to find clothes to wear inside. Naked, she moved barefoot over the
gritty, canvas-covered floor to the stone fireplace and ran her hand over the
rough-surfaced mantle until she felt a square box of cardboard. She shook it and
could hear the rattle of matches inside.
As she started to turn she heard the sound of hooves approaching.
John Green!
Her heart beat a little faster as she recalled the naked, hard-muscled body; the
corded belly and slim hips; the large organ swinging heavily between strong
thighs. She dropped the match box on the table and moved toward the door. As she
stepped out onto the porch she saw not the pinto but a strange horse tied to the
rail. Before she could wonder at this hands grabbed her around the waist and
pulled her against a broad, hairy chest. A bloated cock pressed up against her
ass.
Tibbs twisted her about and kissed her crudely on the mouth thrusting his tongue
deep inside.
Holding her tightly he took her inside the cabin and found the matches on the
table. He lighted the lamp and searching around, found a length of hemp with
which he tied her spread-eagle to the bed. Sitting next to her he smoothed the
palm of his hand over her body, squeezing the full, firm tits. He moved his hand
down to her pussy and massaged it insistently, working his finger in and out and
tweaking the clit roughly between thumb and forefinger.
When he removed his finger from her, it was wet.
"You like it, doncha? You're just a cock-loving slut like all the rest."
He wiped the palm of his hand across her pussy.
"You're gonna make me a lot of money in Juarez, donkey girl. A lot of money."
Tibbs sighed with satisfaction and stood up. He was naked except for a gunbelt
with revolver strapped around his thick, hairy, beer belly.
"But first we'll have to take care of Mr. Green, aka wanted-for-murder, Jack
McGee. I'll cut his fuckin' head off and put it in a pickle jar. Take it to
Santa Fe and collect a five hundred dollar reward. And he can watch me fuck you
all the way there."
Tibbs laughed raucously at this idea.
She watched him check his revolver, pulling the hammer back and spinning the
cylinder and shove it back in its holster. He found a half empty bottle of
whiskey on a shelf among some canned goods.
After taking a swig or two he took the lamp and went out to move the horses to
the barn and get his clothes.
