Wyoming Territory, 1868

Beatrice

Moving with her sister and her new husband out west had once sounded exciting to Beatrice. However, the reality hardly matched up to her fantasies. Life on a wagon train was hard and tiresome not to mention dirty. For a Chicago girl who had been used to indoor plumbing and having maids to cook all of her meals, collecting buffalo chips and going days without having a full bath was something she found difficult to get used to.

Her sister, Clara, seemed content though. She and her husband Elam were expecting to have a child in a couple of months. At the present moment they both sat on a bench beside the wagon eating their dinner of beans and rabbit. Clara had met Elam during the last year of the war while she served as a nurse in the Union army. Elam was an escaped slave who ran away at the start of the war to join the Union. Shortly after it ended Elam tracked Clara down to Chicago and proposed to her.

It had taken her parents a lot of convincing before they would allow her to marry Elam. The Bell's belonged to the elite class of wealthy blacks of their city and their daughter marrying a poor soldier and former slave was almost unthinkable. Eventually, though, their father had been won over by Elam's character. Their mother, however, had never gotten over it. She was even more unhappy when a few years later the couple decided to travel west for a homestead in California and invited Beatrice to come along with them.

Despite all of their mother's warnings of illness and Indian attacks the girls had decided to leave the safety of their home and embark on this new adventure. It had not been easy at first. No guide had wanted to take blacks and any other wagon train wouldn't accept them. Eventually, Elam and a few other black families had managed to find a scout who was willing to take them for a higher price. The man was a drunk and had twice gotten them lost but despite that they were making good time and were looking to be past the Rockies before the first snowfall.

Beatrice walked towards the happy couple carrying a bundle of buffalo chips in her apron. Enough to last them until tomorrow.

"Hello Clara," she dropped the chips. "Elam."

"Bea." Elam said as he tipped his hat towards her.

They moved down to make room for Beatrice on the bench before getting her a plate of food. There were seven other families on the wagon train with them. At night they all turned their wagons into a circle around a large fire. The women were responsible for gathering chips, water, and cooking all of the meals while the men looked after the animals and drove them. They had all gotten close since leaving Missouri. Many nights they would play music or tell stories to the children. On Sundays Clara and Beatrice would read the bible since they were the only two who could read.

Beatrice looked across the fire to see a friend of Elam's named Cole staring at her. It had become clear to Beatrice over the last few weeks that he fancied her. During the evenings when they finished traveling he would often volunteer to help with her chores. Once when they passed a field of wildflowers he picked some for her. Clara gently elbowed her side before leaning her head close to Beatrice's.

"He's been making eyes at you ever since we left St.Louis." Clara whispered. "You know he likes you, right?"

"I know he's even older than Elam is." Beatrice whispered back.

"And would make just as fine a husband, think on it." Clara said before taking her plate over near the wash buckets.

Beatrice smiled back at Cole before dipping her eyes back to her plate. That night there was no music or stories. They were all tired after traveling sixteen miles that day. After the dishes were washed and the animals fed they all turned in for the night. Clara and Elam shared a tent with a goose down mattress, a wedding gift from their father. Beatrice slept in the wagon to give them privacy. Many nights as she gazed up at the stars through the opening at the back of the canvass she felt a sense of loneliness come over her. She wondered what her new life in California would be like and it saddened her that she was unmarried. What purpose would she have with Clara and Elam?

Beatrice woke before the dawn to help make biscuits, coffee, and bacon. Today was Sunday so there would be no traveling. However, that didn't mean there was no work. Back in Chicago Beatrice was a teacher but now her work involved cooking, washing, and keeping the fire going. She was slowly learning that a woman's work never ended and even Sundays were not restful. However, she could not say she hated her experience. Her days were spent under open skies and her nights around a campfire with friends. She had lost some of the stifling propriety since coming west and all in all life was much more enjoyable.

After breakfast they all sat around in their best clothing as Beatrice and Clara read the bible. Both of them wore simple cotton dresses with a few petticoats in order to fit in with the rest of the women and kept their finer clothing and hoop skirts in a couple of trunks in the wagon. When their sermons were over the men went to fish in a nearby creek while the ladies did the laundry upstream. Word was circulated that there would be a dance that night. Clara and Beatrice were both excited as they missed the balls and galas back in Chicago.

That night after supper Clara and Beatrice helped some of the other women in the train get dressed in some of the gowns they brought with them from Chicago. They had all taken a bath in the creek and plated their hair. The girls gushed at seeing each other dressed so finely. Many in the train were freed slaves who had traveled north for a better life. They never imagined wearing tailored dresses of silk and velvet. Clara wore a simple pink empire dress that allowed her to be comfortable with her baby bulge while Beatrice wore a gold colored silk dress with black lace trim. Her shoulders were covered but it left a little of her cleavage exposed.

Beatrice was in front of a small mirror fixing her hair into a chignon. She usually wore her thick hair in a braid and a bonnet on top but tonight she dressed it up for the dance. As she was pinning black pearls into her hair Clara came up behind her and hugged her.

"You look beautiful, Beatrice." Said her sister.

She smiled and hugged her sister back before leaning in to whisper to her.

"I thought about our conversation," she paused before going on. "and I decided if Cole asks for my hand I will say yes."

"Good," Clara responded. "He's talking to Elam right now."

Elam had a banjo, Clara played her flute, and another person had a violin. They all danced around the fire and enjoyed themselves. All except their guide who usually separated himself from them. The music slowed down and Cole asked for her hand. He held her close in his arms as they danced and Beatrice could feel her heart racing. Looking into Cole's dark, handsome face she could picture herself as his wife. He was a lot older than her but he was gentle and sweet. Beatrice knew she could trust him. When their dance was over he took Beatrice aside. He shifted nervously from foot to foot before going down to one knee and removing his hat. He took her hands in his and looked up at her.

"Miss Beatrice I know im older than you and ain't as smart as you is," he began. "But if you would agree to be my wife I would sho be happy."

Beatrice heart swelled in her chest and her breath caught in her throat. She grasped his hands in hers. Before she could answer she heard a loud whopping noise and a gunshot. She turned to see their guide fire another bullet before he was shot in the chest with an arrow. Blood sputtered from his mouth before he stumbled back and fell into the fire. Chaos erupted after that. Everything was a flurry of horse hooves and arrows. She saw Clara standing behind Elam as he poured gunpowder into his rifle. She was wide eyed and terrified. He raised his gun and shot a brave who had come charging towards them. He was shot in the throat with an arrow by another warrior.

She heard Clara shrieking and ran towards her. Beatrice and Clara managed to escape under a wagon and run towards the tree line. Beatrice had no idea how long they'd been running but she was exhausted. Clara had a hard time keeping up and kept falling pulling Beatrice down with her. They had to stop. Beatrice wrapped her arms around Clara as they both sobbed. Neither heard the footsteps approaching. Clara's head slammed into Beatrice knocking her over onto her back. Beatrice looked down to see an arrow planted in the side of her sister's head. A cold chill ran up her spine and she lay frozen to the spot.

An arrow hit her shoulder and Beatrice felt a searing pain spread throughout her whole body. A man painted red and black came into view. His eyes were black and full of rage. The man raised the bow and pointed it towards her. Beatrice heard a shot come from behind her. The bullet struck as he released his arrow. It grazed Beatrice's skull but the force was enough to whip her head back onto a tree trunk, knocking her unconscious.

Maison

Maison hated traveling through Arapaho territory but it was the only way to get to the trading post to sell his furs and buy winter provisions. At one time a man could live peacefully in these parts trapping and trading, making a living from the land. But that was drastically changing. With the coming of the railroad and the influx of settlers The Indians were becoming more vigilant against the threat of their land being taken away. Their way of life going with it. His way of life was coming to an end as well. The fur trade was not as lucrative as it used to be and the amount he could sell his furs for lessened each year. If Maison didn't love living in the mountains so much he would have found another occupation.

On his way back to his cabin he rode towards a creek to replenish his water supply. Maison saw a huge fire in the distance and rode closer to it. He recognized the chanting and saw wagon tops aflamed. He decided to steer clear knowing that he could not fight that many braves on his own. He rode fast towards the tree line. Beyond there his cabin was only a day away. The darkness was closing in and Maison wanted to put as much distance between him and the party of warriors as he could.

At some point he had to stop and let his horse rest for a bit. He heard a sound and grabbed his gun, already loaded. He realized the sound was sobbing. He walked slowly towards it, ducking behind trees as he did so. Maison came upon two women crying in each others arms. Quicker than he could make out two arrows flew towards them. One hit a woman in the head and another hit the other woman in the shoulder making her scream out. Maison crouched down and aimed. The painted man pointed another arrow and they both shot their weapons at the same time.

Maison's bullet sank right between the eyes of the warrior. He stood up and walked towards the women. He was surprised to find that they were both black. He hadn't seen too many coming out west to settle. They were dressed finely in party dresses and petticoats, completely out of place in this rough terrain. He knew the lighter skin one was dead for sure. He saw how soulless her hazel eyes were. But the darker on was still alive, having just been grazed by the last arrow. He lifted the woman up and put her on his shoulder. They had to get out of here fast before the other warriors came looking for their friend.

His horse, Dancer, weaved through the trees as if she had done this hundreds of times before. He didn't stop for the night but just kept riding on. It was as if Dancer instinctively knew they were in danger. She didn't slow down once and showed no weariness. Maison held the young woman close to his chest as they rode. They made it there right before the dawn broke.

He put Dancer in the stable not bothering to unhitch her or put up the supplies. He needed to see to the woman before she bled out. He got a fresh bucket of water from the stream and headed back towards his cabin. The woman was remarkably still passed out. He broke the arrow in two and slowly removed it from her shoulder. He had to take off her bodice in order to clean the wound.

It had been so long since Maison had been with a woman that the sight of her dark breast under her lace chemise made him instantly aroused. There were whorehouses in some of the towns and logging camps but Maison did not like to visit them. The thought of being inside a woman that so many other men had been in was not appealing to him. He was much too territorial to ever share a woman with another. It had been a long fourteen years without sex but he had managed to overcome his lust... until now.

The trickle of blood brought his attention back. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and opened it before taking a swig. He cut open her corset not wanting to waste the time unlacing it then removed her lace chemise. He tipped the bottle to pour some onto the wounds on her temple and shoulder. The woman woke up and began screeching and clawing at him.

Maison tried talking to her but she wouldn't stop. When she clawed his face he reflexively punched her, knocking her out. He cursed himself but at least now he could stitch up her wounds in peace. Maison had become sort of an expert at treating various ailments. One had to be out here where the nearest doctor was usually a few days ride away.

At some point she had pissed herself and Maison knew he had to bathe her. It would be harder for her to heal if she was dirty. Plus he didn't want to share a bed with her smelling like that. He gathered some chopped wood and started a fire in his wood stove. He put on a kettle of water and went out to the stables. By the time he finished feeding Dancer and bringing in the supplies he brought from the store, the water was already boiling. Maison mixed it in with some fresh water and a little shaved soap. He started with her upper regions then put another kettle of water to boil. He removed her skirt and petticoats along with her pantaloons.

He felt himself rising again and just focused on the stench to try and control himself. He started with her feet and worked up trying to avoid her lady bits. Eventually though he had to wash her there. He propped her legs open to give him easy access. He dipped the towel in the bowl again and began washing her pubic hair. The black coils were soon smelling like the lemon soap he bought. The inside was pink like a budding flower. Maison resisted the urge to stroke it and cleaned it along with her backside as quickly as he could. He went to the leather trunk at the foot of his bed and took out the nightgown that belonged to his wife. He dressed her in it, glad to conceal her nakedness.

He made a stew and washed the woman's dress as she slept fitfully. Maison checked her and she was running a fever but at least her wounds were not bleeding. He had to keep the blankets off her in order to break the fever. He opened the door and avoided adding wood to the fire. The days were becoming colder and soon the first snowfall would be upon them. Maison sat in the corner of his cabin watching her, wondering where she had come from and where she was going. By the time she would be healed enough to travel winter would most likely be upon them. She would have to remain here in his cabin until spring. Maison didn't know how he would get through it.

Beatrice

Sometimes Beatrice felt as if she was being dipped into a frozen lake. Other times a lake of fire. The temperature of her body fluctuated from one extreme to the next, all except her shoulder which was a constant source of blinding pain. She drifted between sleep and half consciousness. Terrifying visions drifted back to her. Fires and screams. A man painted red and black with an arrow pointed towards her. Clara lying dead beside her on the forest floor.

Many times she screamed out from fear. Her mind failing to register what was real and what wasn't. She felt strong arms wrap around her and someone whispered soothing words in her ear. At first she thought it was Clara but the arms were too powerful. Then she thought it was Cole but the voice sounded so different. Whoever it was she was grateful to have him. That soothing voice was the only thing that kept those horrible images at bay.

After three days Beatrice woke to a whirring noise. It sounded like a snowstorm. They must not have made through the Rockies on time. When Beatrice opened her eyes she realized she was lying on a bed in a small log cabin. Sunlight streamed through a window above the foot of the bed. She could see a light dusting of snow on the pine trees. The door opened up and a man dressed in furs walked through with a bundle of firewood in his arms.

Beatrice tried to sit up but the pain in her arm made her cry out. Then man turned to look at her as if he was surprised to find her there. He wasn't a young man but he also wasn't old. He looked to be in his late thirties. The man had a dark brown beard and shoulder length hair with grey just starting to come in. They stared at each other for a long time before he finally spoke.

"Good, you finally woke up." He said in a gruff voice. "Been nearly four days."

He dropped the firewood in a wicker basket before taking a log and putting it in the stove.

"Where is Cla-?" She stopped mid sentence her voice dry and hoarse.

He brought a cup of water up to her lips and held the back of her hair as she sipped. His touch was gentle. He smelled of pine cones and coffee. She looked up into his face and saw that his eyes were grey. When she finished drinking he placed the cup on a log he used as a bedside table and took off his furs. When he finished he sat at the small table in the other corner of the room.

"Where is Clara?" She asked.

"From what I saw everybody in your train is dead," he said in a gentle voice. "Arapaho attack."

Beatrice had been taught growing up that crying was undignified but she could not stop the tears that pooled at the edges of her eyes from flowing over. Her heart felt as if it was breaking into a million pieces. All of those horrible images were real. She would never get to see Clara and Elam's baby be born. Never get to marry Cole and become a mother to his child. Never again would she see her friends she had grown to love as family. Gone, all of them gone. Beatrice turned her head to the log wall and tried to sob as quietly as she possibly could. Beatrice heard the man get up and leave and not too long after the chopping of firewood. She must have made him uncomfortable with her crying. Beatrice cried until she fell asleep again.

Maison

Maison had forgotten what it was like to be gentle. He wish he had found a better, softer way to tell the woman that everyone she loved was dead. Maison couldn't stand watching her cry. He wanted to hold her in his arms and kiss her forehead until she fell quiet, like he had done the past three days. Sixteen years ago he would have never imagined having such thoughts about a negro woman. It seemed living out west had stripped him of all his old convictions. One thing he loved about being in wild country was being free of rules.

"Hmph... good riddance." He mumbled to himself.

Maison had traveled west as a young man some sixteen years ago with his wife and daughter. Looking to escape the high price of land in the east. He and his wife built a homestead on the prairie but one bad winter of sickness took all of that away from him. Once his wife and child died he had gone further west seeking the solitude of the mountainous region. Living alone, trapping, and hunting had in some ways healed him but as the years progressed he found himself lonely and wanting the company of a woman. Perhaps this woman would be his wish coming true.
Maison hadn't even bothered to learn her name. He wished he had stayed and talked with her. Asked her about herself and where she was planning on going. He decided to do just that. He finished stacking the wood he had just cut and headed back inside. He found the woman sleeping again. Maison waked closer to the bed and sat down in the empty space next to her. She was beautiful, even with a bruised face. She had high cheekbones and a little button nose. Her thick, kinky black hair accentuated her dark face perfectly. She couldn't have been older than twenty. Maison wondered if she had been married. He traced her puffy lips with his finger, wanting so badly to kiss her.

He reminded himself that she was still grieving the loss of her family and she may not even be interested. Many times she called out the name Cole while she was asleep. Perhaps he was a sweetheart of hers. Maison went go feed his animals. Besides Dancer he had a milk goat he bought last spring and a few chickens. He hunted for his meat. Being up in the mountains meant that many things couldn't be grown but he was able grow some potatoes, cabbages, turnips, carrots, and herbs. He bought other things from outposts and a couple of general stores by trading his furs.

Maison spent most of his time alone, going weeks at a time without seeing another person. His only company during this time was Dancer. He bought her three years back from a Pawnee scout. Cost him about a week's worth of furs but she was worth it. He went to the barn he used both as a workshop and to house his animals. He went up to pet Dancer on her nose and she nipped at his coat collar.

"I hope you don't mind but I think I found another lady to occupy my time." He said patting her nose. She nipped him again in response.

He cleaned the barn and put fresh hay down before giving some to Dancer and the goat. Maison left the barn and went around to the side where he had his chicken coop. Maison never tried to be gone for more than a day or two, any longer than that and his animals would starve.

The snow had stopped falling and Maison took the opportunity to check his traps. He trapped all year long trading both meat and fur. Even though the demand for fur was dwindling, it made for a decent living but then again he didn't want for much. His traps were all empty except one rabbit trap. He would bring it back for supper. He wondered if she knew how to cook.

Maison

When Beatrice awoke again the man was gone and the sun was setting. Her head felt as if someone had hit her with a mallet. She reached up and felt the stitches. They were on her shoulder as well.

The image of Clara laying on her side with an arrow in her skull popped into her mind. She shut her eyes against it. Oh god how would she explain this to their mother? All of her warnings had come true. How naive they had been not heed them.

If Beatrice could take it all back she would. She would have remained in Chicago working as a teacher. In a few years she would have probably been married. Her life would be safe and predictable. But now she found herself lost in the wilderness take in by a strange mountain man. All for the sake of seeking a little adventure.

Beatrice had to relieve herself. She raised herself from the bed her head throbbing as she made her way to the floor. Her legs were shaky and the arm with the injured shoulder felt heavy and sore. She held it up by the elbow with her other arm.

Beatrice slipped her feet into her boots, not bothering to lace them then opened the latch on the wooden door. Everything was blanketed with snow. Beatrice had never witnessed such a beautiful scene. Snow and ice hung off the pine boughs as the last of the sunlight filtered through the trees. Snow was never this beautiful in Chicago. After a few days the snow became black and grey. Sullied by the city's grime. But here it was breathtaking.

She only wished Clara was here with her. She also wished Elam and Cole were here too. As well as the little girl from the wagon train that followed her around. And the girl's grandmother who had taken to calling her 'Bea bea'. She wished her younger brother and father was here with her too. Hell, she even wished her mother was with her. Instead she found herself all alone in the wilderness. Tears stung her eyes and her nose began to run. She wiped her face on her shoulder and made her way down the steps. She walked carefully, trying not to tire herself out. The cracks in the door allowed for light and wind to enter the outhouse. There was a small bucket of fresh pine cones near the seat. Back in Chicago Beatrice used therapeutic paper to wipe but she had soon gotten used to other alternatives. There was no room for prissiness out on the frontier.

When she finished she made her way slowly to the cabin. As she reached the door she felt faint. She opened the door and her legs gave out. Before she hit the floor strong arms wrapped around her midsection and pulled her up.

"I got ya." He whispered.

Beatrice felt herself being carried before she was gently deposited on the bed. As she drifted off to sleep she heard the familiar whispering. She found comfort in those arms.

Maison

When Maison got back to the cabin he found that the woman was gone and traced her footprints to the outhouse. He was surprised that she was strong enough to get that far by herself after what she had been through. He kicked off his boots and removed his furs.

Seeing his bed empty made him feel a little lonely. A image of the both of them in bed together came to his mind. He wondered what it would be like to touch her dark breasts. He banished those thoughts from his mind and gathered a couple of bowls and spoons for dinner. He had given her a few sips of water as she slept during those days. He figured she would want real food when she returned.

The door opened and the woman stumbled in. She fell and Maison managed to catch her just in time. He lifted her in his arms and brought her over to the bed. She felt so light in his arms. Maison laid her on the bed and got under the covers with her. He whispered in her ear and held her in his arms as she drifted to sleep.

It had been so long since he held another person in his arms. He had not realized until now what the lack of intimacy had done to him. Maison wanted to stay like this with her forever. As the snowfall resumed Maison drifted off to sleep.

Beatrice

There was a thumping in Beatrice's ear like someone tapping on a small drum. She found it soothing. She moved her head a little and realized she was laying on something hard. Her eyes shot open when she heard the low rumble of snoring. Beatrice looked up and saw the man who had saved her asleep with her in his arms. When she first saw him he looked a bit wild but sleeping he looked handsome, almost gentle.

She didn't dare try to get up and walk around again for fear of passing out. Instead she decided to enjoy the warmth and comfort of this strange man. She wondered if Cole would have held her like this. The thought of Cole brought on more grief. She had not even saw what had happened to him. Her only concern during the attack was to find safety for herself and Clara and she had failed at doing even that. Beatrice could not hold back the tears and she let herself cry.

"Don't cry honey," she heard him say. "You're safe now."

Beatrice was startled, she assumed the man was still asleep.

"I-im sorry," she stammered. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay," he said. "you been through a lot in the last week."

There was a gentleness in his grey eyes that Beatrice had not expected to be there. She had fashioned him in her mind to be some wild, uncivilized mountain man. But seeing him like this took her off guard. When he didn't release her Beatrice tried to sit up.

"No, lay down," he said. "You need to rest."

When the man got out of the bed it felt empty without him. She would never admit it to herself but Beatrice wished he had still held her in his arms. He went to the stove and spooned up a bowlful of soup. It smelled like the chicken soup her nursemaid prepared for her when she was sick. Seeing it made Beatrice ravenous. The man pulled a stool next to the bed and sat on it with the bowl in his hand. He held a spoonful out to her and Beatrice gratefully opened her mouth to receive it. It tasted better than she had expected.

When she finished eating he gave her a cup of water. She was full. Her stomach must of shrunk while she was asleep.

"Thank you."Beatrice said. "For everything you've done."

"No need to thank me." He responded.

There was an intensity in his gaze and Beatrice couldn't quite figure out what was behind it. She looked away embarrassed. The man cleared his throat before speaking.

"What's your name, miss?"

"Beatrice Bell." She said.

"Well my name is Maison Steer." He held out his hand and she shook it.

They talked for a little while. About who they were and how they both ended up here. She found out that Maison was from Iowa and had come out west with his wife and child years ago to farm. When they died of cholera he moved to the mountain and began fur trapping.

Soon Beatrice found herself tired again. She began drifting off to sleep as Maison washed the dishes. Before she fell asleep Beatrice felt the man climb in bed and wrap his arms around her. Beatrice made no protests but instead wrapped her uninjured arm around him.

Maison

Beatrice healed over the next few weeks. She was well enough to cook their meals and look after the cabin. Maison was gone most of the day hunting and checking his traps. In the evenings though they usually sat and talked or played card games. Maison even taught Beatrice how to play the harmonica.

While they lay in bed together Maison would stay up as Beatrice slept waiting for her to have a nightmare. Then he would hold her in his arms until they both fell into a peaceful sleep. Occasionally he stayed up all night just holding her, imagining the life they could have together.

In his imagination there were no barriers keeping them apart. No one to oppose him taking up with a negro woman. They would marry and stay on the mountain. Maybe Anson would buy up another plot and build a bigger cabin. They could have children.

The daylight managed to sober him of these fantasies. Beatrice showed no hint of wanting that life with him. She talked of her family and friends in Chicago as if they were present. He knew in the spring their time together would end and he would go back to his life of loneliness. But until then he would enjoy what he could.

One day when Maison came in for supper Beatrice sat on the bed looking out the window. Her eyes looked sad and distant. Maison went to sit on the bed next to her.

"You wanna talk about something?" He asked her.

"It's nothing," she said. "I was just thinking how much I would miss this place when I leave in the spring."

"I thought you missed your life back in Chicago." He told her. "figured this place was a little too boring for your tastes."

"No I like the peace." She said looking at him. "And I like talking to you."

Maison felt his heartbeat speed up. Those were the words he wanted to hear all along. Perhaps his dream wasn't too far off.

"You can stay, you know." He said abruptly. "In the spring you can stay here with me."

"And do what Maison?" She asked.

There was a little laughter in her voice. She thought it was a joke. Maison shrugged his shoulders not knowing what else to say.

"Just... just be with me." He said it so softly it was almost a whisper.

Beatrice looked surprised. Her dark eyes held his for a moment before she looked down. Her hands began fiddling with the skirt of his dead wife's dress.

"Maison I didn't know you felt that way." She said avoiding his gaze. "I'm sorry."

Maison though he had prepared himself for this moment but her rejection stung more than he thought it would. All this time he had imagined how happy they would be together. Knowing that would never happen made his heart ache.

"Well," he said. " I gotta go feed the animals."

Maison got up and left without even putting on his coat. He heard Beatrice call out to him but ignored her. The wind and snow whipped around his body chilling him to the bone. He walked quickly to the barn and stepped inside. Safely behind it's door he let tears pour down his face. For years he had pushed away any painful emotions but now he couldn't stop them from overtaking him.

Beatrice

If Beatrice had been honest with herself she would not have been taken by surprise at Maison's proposal. The way he felt about her was evident in the way she sometimes caught him staring at her, when he would touch her and linger, and then there was the time he held her far too long. Beatrice brushed it off as him just being friendly with her. But as she sat near the window waiting for him to come back in she realized that Maison had thought of her this way since day one. And why shouldn't she return his advances?

Maison was handsome, kind, and he had saved her life. He took care of her when she was injured and once she was well given her his dead wife clothing so she wouldn't have to wear the dress she wore when her sister was murdered.

But what would her family think? What would her friends say? No doubt she would be shunned if someone were to ever discover their liaison. And what if a child resulted from that union? That child too would be shunned. Forced to live on the fringes of both societies.

Beatrice couldn't let something like that happen to herself or her future children. It was clear that Maison was not thinking of the consequences so she had to do it. Just because the two of them were alone and away from civilization didn't mean they could do whatever they wanted. Still when she looked into his grey eyes she felt protected.

Maison

When Maison returned to the cabin Beatrice was already asleep. She left the oil lamp on to light the way for him and she had yet to change into her nightgown. Maison was touched that she at least cared for him in some fashion. Even if they could not be together romantically.

Maison ate his dinner before turning into bed. Before he got in he removed Beatrice's dress and shoes. Other than the nightmares she was a heavy sleeper and didn't wake. The clothes belonged to his late wife but they looked just as fine on Beatrice.

Maison lay in bed looking at the moonlight shining through the window. There was going to be a snow storm tomorrow. After living on the mountain for so long Maison developed the ability to predict when the weather was going to change. He probably would not be able to get to his traps until it was over. That meant spending the entire day in the cabin with Beatrice.

He fell asleep worried about what would happen the next day. When he woke again the wind was making the door bang against the lock. Beatrice was thrashing around and begging for mercy. She was having another one of her nightmares.

Maison sat up in bed and held her in his arms. He smoothed her thick, wooly hair and kissed the soft skin on her forehead. Her eyes opened then. There were tears in them, this nightmare had been worse than all the others.

"Maison?" She asked in a confused tone.

"Im here baby." He reassured her.

They stared into eachothers eyes before she kissed him. Maison didn't move for a moment, still too shocked to fully comprehend what was happening. Then he kissed her back and it was everything that he imagined it would be. Both soft and passionate. How long had it been since he shared his lips with another? Since he had felt another warm body pressed against his?

Maison held her tighter not ever wanting this feeling to go away. She broke the kiss suddenly and nuzzled his neck, breathing hard. Maison didn't push her. He wanted more of Beatrice but she clearly did not want the same. After she fell asleep again he stayed awake watching the storm outside. A tree fell somewhere off in the distance.

Sometimes morbid thoughts of his death plagued him. He imagined himself dying of some sickness or perhaps a tree falling on him as he went to check his traps. Maybe a run in with a bear or mountain lion when he was unprepared. He would die alone on the mountain, his body not discovered until months later. And who would be there to mourn him? To bury him? Perhaps when Beatrice left in the spring he would find a wife, settle down on a homestead. So he wouldn't have to die alone.

Beatrice

In the morning neither of them spoke about what happened that night. It was as if the conversation and the kiss never transpired. Beatrice was grateful for this. She had no idea what had caused her to kiss Maison after she rejected his proposal. She could only blame her nightmare for making her so vulnerable.

This time it was not she and Clara in the woods but her and Cole in the camp. He was on his knees in front of her. He smiled up at Beatrice before an arrow plunged it's way through his throat. Beatrice shouted for help as blood squirted onto her skirt and Cole fell over into the dust.

Then all around her there was fire. It billowed in a large circle around her. From the flames emerged a figure. He was man painted red and black with and had a bow in his hands. He raised it towards her. Beatrice fell on her knees and begged for mercy. But still the man approached. She could not get away, the flames trapped her inside.

The man came to stand directly in front of her. Just as he was about to unleash the arrow Beatrice head a whisper. Something faint calling her from behind the flames. She opened her eyes and saw Maison staring down at her. Beatrice didn't think, just acted upon instinct as she drew her lips closer to his.

In that moment when their lips met Beatrice felt safe. There was no fear, no worries. The world washed away and it was just her and him. Beatrice found her head swimming. She broke the kiss and nuzzled Maison's neck. His smell was now familiar to her. Comforting. He held her close to him and rocked her back to sleep.

Although Beatrice had felt safe and protected in his arms she was embarrassed to face him in the light. She needed to strengthen her resolve. Remember the consequences of what would happen were she to ever entertain Maison's desires... and her own.

When Maison left to work on his skins in the barn she was relieved to finally be alone. However, as she went about her chores she found herself looking back at the window checking to see if Maison was returning. She was both anxious and excited.

When he did return they had a dinner of venison and potatoes. Afterwards Maison went to fetch fresh snow to melt for their baths. For weeks Beatrice had been washing herself using just a pail of water and a rag, she was happy to finally be taking a bath. Maison was gracious enough to allow her to go first. He hung a curtain separating the cabin in order to give her privacy.

She settled into the warm bath enjoying the feel on her bare skin. The tub wasn't as large as the one she had back home in Chicago but it was just as soothing. Maison left Beatrice a bar of lemon soap. Beatrice smiled to herself. She found it hard to imagine this rugged man indulging in such a feminine frivolity.

"Maison," Beatrice said. "I never imagined that you would enjoy scented soap."

"Sarah, my wife, liked it." He told her.

Maison's voice held a hint of sadness. He must have loved her a great deal. She wished she could comfort him. Let him know that he wasn't alone.

"Maison," she started. "if things were different I would be with you."

He was silent for a long time. All Beatrice could hear was the crackling of wood in the stove and the wind blowing outside. She turned wondering if he had even heard her.
"What we do up her don't concern anybody else." She heard him say.

Neither of them spoke again. Beatrice finished bathing putting on her nightgown. As Maison bathed she lay in bed behind the curtain thinking about what he said to her. She couldn't deny that she wanted him. Wanted to lay with him, have him claim her as his. But the fear of what could happen was overwhelming. She turned her head to the log wall and shut her eyes.

Maison

By the time he finished bathing Beatrice was already asleep. Maison was tired but he didn't want to sleep. He wanted to be with her, be inside her. All that day while he was in the barn all he could think of was her. How she smelled, how she smiled at him when she caught him looking, How soft the coils of her hair were. He loved everything about her. The thought of going back to a life without her just seemed depressing.

Maison got off the bed and lit the kerosene lamp. He took off his long underwear and stood naked in the middle of the cabin. The stove was putting off good heat but he still felt chilled. He removed the fur blankets from Beatrice. She was a heavy sleeper and it would take a lot for him to wake her up. Maison removed the nightgown and the cap on her head but still she did not stir. Maison climbed on the bed and positioned himself between her thighs. He could see the pinkness of her vaginia and reached out to touch it. She moved a little and Maison stopped. He would not go further without her say so.

"Beatrice ," he whispered. "wake up."

When she still hadn't moved he leaned in closer and whispered it in her ear. This time her brown eyes fluttered open. Her eyes were questioning at first then alarmed. She tried to get up but Maison held her midsection down.

"Shh... I won't hurt you." He said. "And I won't do anything you don't want me to do."

She was breathing hard at this point. Clearly frightened by him. Maison didn't know how to put her at ease so he thought back to what he had done to his wife on their wedding night. He moved his head down to her breast and took the left nipple in his mouth. After a couple of minutes he moved to the right one. Her breasts were much larger than Sarah's had been. She gasped as her nipples hardened under his tongue manipulation. He could tell by her breathing that she was enjoying this. He felt himself leaking on the bedding underneath them and knew if he didn't get inside he would end up cumming all over her.

"Im going to try something different." He said. "Just let me know if you don't like it."

Beatrice nodded her head to show she understood. She had moved her hands to cover her breast. Maison uncrossed her arms and laid them at the sides of her head.

"You keep these there," he said gruffly. "understood?" Beatrice nodded again.

Maison slowly kissed his way down her torso until he reached her pubic hair. She still smelled fresh from the bath she had earlier that night. He parted her small bush of curls revealing her soft, pink folds. She was a little moist from arousal but Maison needed her to be wetter. Maison wetted two of his and rubbed the little nub at the tip of her vaginia. Beatrice began sighing softly as he did this. He moved his head closer and licked her with his flattened tongue.

She gasped again and tried to get up but Maison pushed her back down. After a few more licks he put his entire mouth on her and began sucking, both her pussy lips and her clitoris. She withered underneath him. Maison put his index finger in his mouth and coated it with saliva before sticking it into her small opening. It gave him a little resistance. Slowly he worked the finger in and out before adding a second one. He resumed sucking her clitoris. Suddenly her body jerked away from him.

Maison looked up and saw Beatrice's face buried in the pillow. She was stifling her moans. Maison smiled to himself, glad to see that after all of these years he had not lost his touch. He let her calm down before he turned her back to facing him. She looked a bit bewildered by what had just happened. Maison lowered himself and kissed her. After a little coaxing she began kissing him back. Maison took this time to run his hands over her body. Her skin was soft, her body supple without being too plump.

Maison took his erect penis in his hand and rubbed it between her folds. Enjoying how good it felt. He wanted to be inside her so bad. He used his precum and some of her juices to coat his manhood before positioning himself at her opening. He looked down at her once more. A little of the fear had returned.

"Will you let me have you?" He asked.

Beatrice

Beatrice was terrified. She had woken up cold and naked with Maison on top of her. She thought back to the kiss they had the night before. Perhaps that encouraged him to take things too far. Still what he had done to her body had brought on indescribable feelings.

Maison was touching her again. Right on the spot that made her body quiver and jerk as if something had possessed her. If he would make her feel like that again she would not mind letting him go further but she was scared.

"Will it hurt?" She heard herself ask.

"I'll go slow." He assured her.

She nodded and Maison lowered himself to kiss her. She felt something hard push against her opening and she knew what it was. Beatrice closed her eyes fearful of what was to come. He went slow as he promised. It was painful but not terribly so. Mostly it felt like Maison was trying to wedge something inside her that was too big to fit. She grunted and gritted her teeth as he continued on. Then she felt his pubic hair touching hers.

"You can open your eyes now." he said. "I'm all the way inside you."

She opened her eyes and looked into his. He looked pleased with himself. He slowly pulled out and pushed back in. Her vagina felt impossibly stretched. Their foreheads touched. She could feel the sweat on his temple, his ragged breath on her cheek. She kissed him and wrapped her arms around his rib cage. He pulled out again but pushed in too fast. She bit down on his shoulder to stifle her screams.

"Sorry," he said pulling out again. "I'm just a little excited is all."

The hair on his chest brushed against her bare breast, tickling her a little. He pulled her legs up around his waist and quickened his pace. He lowered his body and put his arms under her back. Beatrice didn't know how long it lasted but he finished suddenly as he cried out. Maison collapsed on top of her, his sweat making her body wet. She felt a hot liquid gush inside of her. She didn't know how she felt about having his seed inside of her. Maison pulled out and laid on his back. After he caught his breath he pulled Beatrice into a sweaty embrace. Beatrice lay on his chest listening to his heartbeat as he fell asleep.

***Thanks for reading the first installment of 'Man of the Mountain'. Be sure to leave a rating and a comment. The next installment should be coming soon***