The Heart of Lincoln County 9/?
Title: The Heart of Lincoln County
Author: darkfaery1
Chapter: 9/?
Series: TDS/TCR/The O'Reilly Factor
Genre: Western AU
Chapter pairings: Jon/"Stephen," Steve/Tad, John/Amy
Chapter rating: NC-17 for slash sex and graphic violence.
Content: slash sex, Old West violence, language, angst, prejudice, mild het content.
Word count: 3270
Chapter summary: Amy and John, Jon and Stephen become closer. Tad confronts Paul.
Author's Note: Doctor Stewart went to Harvard in the 1860's because William and Mary never had a medical school and Jews were limited in their higher education choices in the nineteenth century. They were barely tolerated at Harvard. Many thanks to my best cop friend Scott who discussed with me some of the finer points of guns and the consequences of their use. Thanks to my beta insanekht for all her help.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is not intended to portray the life or defame the character of any actual person. Any similarity between the fictional version of the person portrayed here and the actual person is purely coincidental. No money is being made from this work of fiction. It is not intended to infringe upon any copyrighted material. Any mention of any copyrighted material is reasonably protected by the Fair Use Rule of the United States Copyright Act of 1976.
Crossposted to tds_rps
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5
Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8
"You did what?"
"We purchased your contract," John told Amy happily. "You'll never have to go back there again."
John, Doc Stewart, and Mr. Colbert stood around Amy's bed, looking like cats who ate some very fat canaries. Amy tried to keep the anger out of her voice. "That was a very nice thing you all did, but I would have appreciated it if you'd ask me first."
"I'm sorry, Amy," Doc said. "It was my idea and I got a bit carried away. I really should have consulted you before we did anything."
Her tone softened and she smiled, even though it hurt a little to do so. "That's all right. I don't mean to sound ungrateful; I just don't have anywhere else to go."
"You can stay here as long as you want," Doc Stewart said.
John frowned, but Amy smiled even more widely, causing her to press her hands to her bruised cheeks.
The doctor sat on the side of her bed and gently stroked her brow. "Do you need something more for pain?"
"No," she said, taking his hand. "Just don't make me laugh."
John cleared his throat. "I think she should rest now," the Englishman said stiffly. "Don't you, Doctor?"
Both Amy and Doc Stewart were taken aback by John's tone, but Stewart nodded and rose. "He's quite right, Amy, you need to sleep."
Doc Stewart and Mr. Colbert went into the other room, while John stared after them with a stony look.
"What's wrong, honey?"
"It's not important, you have to rest." John took a step towards the door, but she caught his hand.
"Don't leave," Amy whispered.
"Do you want me to sit with you while you sleep?"
She shook her head. "I know I ain't much to look at right now, but I want you to lay yourself down next to me and hold me."
Beads of sweat suddenly appeared on John's forehead. He quickly removed his shoes and lay down beside her, gingerly putting his arm around her waist, careful to avoid her injured ribs.
Amy stroked his cheek lightly. "Now, tell me what's wrong."
John sighed. "Tad left a while ago to confront Paul about what he did to you. I went to the jail to tell the deputy that Tad might need some help, when the sheriff said you were Doctor Stewart's favorite--well, I won't repeat the word he used, except to say that it started with a 'w'."
Amy said a silent prayer for Tad and that poor deputy, then looked John straight in the eye with the one of hers that would open. "The word is 'whore', John. If I'm gonna be your girl, you'd better get used to hearing it. I may be done with Annie, but folks ain't gonna forget where I came from that easy."
"What did he mean by that? Is Doctor Stewart in love with you? It was his idea to buy out your contract, after all."
"We're friends, John, that all," Amy told him. "When Doc Stewart first came to town about five years ago, none of the so-called respectable folks wanted to see him on account of he's Jewish. So his first patients were us Damfino girls. There was one girl, Mary, who Annie found in an orphanage in Albuquerque. She was too old and the orphanage couldn't afford to keep her, so they turned her out. Annie gets a lot of girls that way. Anyway, Mary was a real sweet girl, but she was real sick too. Consumption, Doc said. He took her into his house so the rest of us wouldn't get sick. But she was crying for her mama, so I stayed with her too. 'Course, folks got the wrong idea about me and Doc Stewart. Mary died, but Doc saved the rest of us girls by knowing just what to do right away. Folks didn't say that was the reason, but they came to see him after that."
"That explains your friendship," John said, still anxious, "but he seems to be unusually fond of you. How do you know he's not in love with you?"
Amy gently pushed his hair out of his face. "It ain't my place to say how I know, but you're just gonna have to trust me when I say I know he ain't in love with me."
***
"Are you sure you wouldn't be more comfortable in the parlor?" Jon asked.
"So Oliver can walk in on us?" Stephen replied. "I wouldn't find that at all comfortable, though I had assumed your bedroom would be cleaner than it is."
Stephen felt badly about the embarrassed look on Jon's face, so he went over to him and pulled him into a lingering kiss. Gently intertwining his tongue with Stephen's, Jon seemed to know exactly how much intensity Stephen wanted in the kiss. Jon withdrew from him reluctantly and started picking up the discarded clothing, papers, and books. Stephen draped his coat neatly over a chair, then gathered up a wad of clothes of dubious cleanliness and stuffed them into a drawer. On top of the chest of drawers was a framed Harvard diploma covered with a thick layer of dust.
"Who's Jonathan Stuart Leibowitz?" Stephen asked when he wiped the dust off with his handkerchief and read the name on it.
"That's me. I changed my name when I left New York, so it would sound less Jewish and to protect my family."
Stephen wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to the question, but he asked it anyway. "From what?"
"An unforgivable scandal," Jon said with a sad grin. He sat on the bed and invited Stephen to sit next to him. "After I graduated from Harvard, I went to work at Mount Sinai Hospital in New York. I built up a good reputation for myself fairly quickly. I had a lovely wife, family, friends…" Jon looked down at his hands and absent-mindedly picked at his fingernails. "Then one day, I fell in love with a handsome young doctor; Cooper was his name. It wasn't long before the affair was discovered. Cooper managed to survive the scandal by using his family connections. I was fired, my wife divorced me, even my own mother couldn't forgive me, so I came west."
Stephen put his arms around Jon and kissed him on the forehead, then the lips. "I know it's selfish of me, but I'm glad all those things happened, so you could be here with me in your untidy bedroom."
Jon laughed in that way Stephen loved. He decided to abandon the cleaning effort and pushed Jon down on the bed, then started unbuttoning the doctor's shirt.
"Stephen, are you sure you want to do this now?"
Stephen nodded enthusiastically. "You know as well as I do that what we're doing is a mortal sin. I find it feels less sinful if I don't talk about it while I'm doing it. And if it feels less sinful, then it must be less sinful."
Jon removed his kippah and placed it on the small table beside the bed. Stephen assumed it was in deference to the Jewish God, which was also the Christian God, Jon constantly reminded him. "But how will I know what you want?" Jon asked.
"Hand signals, Jon."
"I cannot not talk while I make love to you!"
"Speak at your immortal soul's peril, but you'll hear nary a word from me from this moment on." Stephen locked his lips with an invisible key, then threw the key over his shoulder.
"All right," Jon giggled, "suit yourself."
Stephen had some difficulty undressing himself and Jon in a timely manner because of his cast, so Jon took over that task. He laid Stephen on his back and just gazed at him for several moments, no doubt drinking in Stephen's overwhelming masculinity, but Stephen longed to be touched.
As if reading his mind, Jon began to run his hands over his chest. Jon straddled Stephen's middle and leaned in to nuzzle his neck. Stephen bit his lip to stifle a gasp.
Devouring his lips, Jon plunged his tongue into Stephen's mouth. Stephen buried his fingers in Jon's hair as Jon trailed his tongue across his jawline, then down his neck. He slowly licked and sucked one nipple, then the other. Tugging at Jon's hair, Stephen arched his back, letting a grunt of pleasure pass his lips. He almost swore out loud, but stopped himself.
Jon raised his head and smiled mischievously. "Better be quiet, I understand God's listening."
Stephen mouthed 'blasphemy', then he indicated by pointing his finger toward his body that he wanted Jon to continue. Jon tickled Stephen's side, but he stubbornly remained silent. After some teasing kisses to his chest and stomach, which elicited a very impatient look from Stephen, Jon caressed the inside of Stephen's thighs, then took him in hand. Stephen liked nothing better than having his cock in a handsome man's hand; it was even better when that handsome man wasn't himself.
But then Jon did something obscene.
Jon traced the slit of his cock with the tip of his tongue, then circled the head before taking it into his mouth. Crying out, Stephen lifted his hips and put his hand on the back of Jon's head, inadvertently forcing himself down Jon's throat. Stephen immediately let him go; Jon sat up breathless, but smiling.
"Did I hurt you?" Stephen asked frantically, wrapping Jon in his arms, his cast pressing against Jon's spine.
"No," Jon said amused. "But you talked."
"Who cares about that?" Stephen cried. "I thought I'd choked you to death! Where did you learn that, that, amazing thing you did?"
"From an old lover," Jon purred. "Do you want me to do it again?"
Stephen's mouth hung open for a moment before he responded. "Yes, please!"
Jon licked the back of Stephen's good ear and whispered. "All right, but you have to do something for me."
"Anything," Stephen moaned.
"I want you inside me."
Stephen's eyes rolled back in his head, but he managed to nod. Jon lay down between Stephen's legs and stroked him a few times before running the flat of his tongue up the shaft and taking the head in his mouth. He swallowed him to the base and slowly brought his mouth up again. It wasn't long before Jon felt Stephen's cock twitch and tasted precum. "Are you close?"
He nodded again, silent because Jon's ministrations had made him speechless. Jon rummaged in a drawer for a bottle of oil. He first lightly covered Stephen's cock, then straddled Stephen and prepared himself. As Jon eased himself onto his cock, Stephen reached out and began stroking Jon's hardness. Jon leaned in for another sultry kiss then started moving up and down Stephen's cock.
Stephen let out groans and gasps as Jon rode him. With his casted hand on Jon's rump, and his good hand stroking him, Stephen began moving his hips to meet Jon's downward thrusts.
"Oh, Stephen," Jon moaned, "that feels so good. Don't stop…so close." Jon soon came all over Stephen's hand and stomach. The sight brought Stephen to the edge. With one last powerful thrust of his hips, Stephen exploded inside of him with a violent shudder.
He was glad they hadn't finished tidying up Jon's room, because there was a shirt close by Jon used to clean him up without getting out of bed. Stephen yawned and drew Jon in a tangled embrace. "I shouldn't say this."
"What?" Jon asked, resting his head against Stephen's chest.
"That hardly felt sinful at all. Why is that, do you suppose?"
Jon looked up into his dark eyes and smiled. "Because I love you. How can that be sinful?"
"You're so smart," Stephen replied. "That’s why I love you." He sighed contently, then fell asleep.
***
Tad approached the ranch from the east side, knowing it couldn't be seen from the house. O'Reilly was still in town, so Tad knew the ranch hands would be taking advantage of his absence and sitting down to supper in the main house instead of the bunkhouse.
He managed to ride up to the front door before the ranch foreman, Seth Rogan, rushed out with a napkin still tucked into his shirt and a shotgun in his hand. As soon as he saw it was Tad, he relaxed. "You ain't supposed to be here, you know that."
Tad dismounted and wrapped the horse's reins around the porch railing. "I'm here to see my brother."
"Shit, Bill's gonna fire me if he knows I let you in."
"If you don't, I'm gonna put a cap in you and go in anyway." Seth made no attempt to stop him, so Tad went inside, but not before wiping a glob of gravy off Seth's chin with his napkin. "Go finish your supper."
Seth sighed, leaned the shotgun by the door, and led Tad to the supper table. Tad found Paul at the head of the table, taking in more whiskey than food. He looked rougher than Tad had ever seen him: disheveled, unshaven, thin as a rail. The hand that was holding the whiskey bottle trembled slightly. The rest of the ranch hands stopped their chatter and took an inordinate interest in their meal.
Paul rose unsteadily and grinned. "Hey, big brother," he said with an edge to his voice. "Where the hell've you been?"
"Working," Tad replied curtly. "I need to talk to you in private."
"God dammit," Paul said, throwing his napkin on his plate. "Can't even finish my supper." He grabbed the whiskey and motioned with it for Tad to follow him into the parlor. He settled in a big, fur-covered chair and took a long pull from his bottle. "This is about Amy, ain't it?"
"For starters."
Paul shrugged. "What was I supposed to do? I had to teach her a lesson. She was runnin' around on me with some piss named Oliver."
"I know. I encouraged him to court her."
Paul slammed his hand against the arm of the chair. "Why the fuck would you go against me like that?"
"Because you don't deserve her--you never did!" Tad yelled. "But she's done with you; done with the Damfino too. We bought out her contract."
"We?"
"Me, John Oliver, Doc Stewart, and Mr. Colbert--I work for him now." Tad smiled proudly. "I quit O'Reilly's weeks ago."
Paul bolted out of his chair. "Is that what you come to tell me, that you betrayed me?"
"No." Tad drew his gun and aimed it at his brother's chest. "I came to take you in for killing that stagecoach driver."
"You were in on it too," his brother reminded him.
"I'm taking us both in."
Paul stared at his brother like he was insane. "So we can hang together?"
Tad nodded sadly. "Remember when Ma died, she made me promise I'd look after you and keep you out of trouble. But instead I followed you straight into Hell. I watched you kill half a dozen men and I didn’t do nothing to stop it. I can't let you do it anymore. And if I hang too, I figure it's fair punishment for breaking my promise." He motioned towards the door with the barrel of his gun. "Come on, Paul, I don't want to hurt you."
"But you're willing to have me hang?" Paul swung the whiskey bottle, shattering it against the side of his brother's head. Tad stumbled to the floor, stunned. Paul took his brother's guns, stuffing the extra in the waistband of his pants, then ran for the door.
Tad wiped the blood and glass away from his face and got to his feet. Seth had rushed towards the door and picked up the shotgun. "I don't want any more trouble, Tad."
"Give me that!" Tad said, grabbing the gun from Seth's hands. Paul was having trouble mounting Tad's horse, who never liked his twin. Tad was going to use the butt of the shotgun to knock his recalcitrant brother out, when Steve appeared around the corner, on foot with his gun pointed at Paul. "Sheriff's deputy, drop your gun!"
Two shots were fired almost simultaneously.
The second shot was fired from Paul's gun, the one he had just taken from Tad. He originally aimed between Steve's eyes, but the bullet went wide and nicked the deputy's left ear; Steve hardly felt it.
The first shot came from the shotgun Tad wielded. When he saw Paul draw his weapon on Steve, Tad secured the shotgun against his shoulder, and aimed at the back of Paul's head. He imagined, fleetingly, that this was some sort of strange battle between his past and future.
Tad fired; the large pellets ripped into Paul's head and exploded in all directions. Tad was lightly splattered with blowback, but Steve was covered with blood and brain, flesh and bone. Paul's lifeless body fell forward with a thud. All that was left of his head was a mangled, smoking, unrecognizable mass. Tad sank to his knees at his brother's side and started to weep. Steve dripped with gore and was unsure of his own injuries. He wanted to comfort Tad, but was overcome by the urge to vomit.
***
It was after dark when a knock came on Doctor Stewart's door. Jon and Stephen quickly dressed, then Jon answered it. It was O'Reilly and Sheriff Black.
"Doc," Black said, inclining his head. "Sorry to bother you, but we've been looking all over for Mr. Colbert. He wasn't at his store or the boardinghouse, so we thought he might be here."
"Why are you looking for me?" Stephen asked.
"I have a paper here--a claim against the land your store's sitting on."
Jon watched all the color drain from Stephen's face. "What?"
"I own that land, Colbert," O'Reilly said in a blustering tone. "Evander Wallace owed me money. All that's left of his estate is that land, and I'm claiming it."
"I imagine you'll want to protest this," the sheriff said, "which you can do in three weeks when the district court convenes."
"Why'd you tell him that for, Lewis?" O'Reilly asked angrily.
"You're not the only one with rights in this town, Bill," Lewis snapped. "In the meantime, I have an injunction from Judge Gibson to shut your store down until then. I'm sorry, Mr. Colbert, my wife really liked shopping there."
Stephen took the piece of paper from the sheriff, but couldn't focus on it. Jon took it from him and read the injunction. Somehow, O'Reilly had managed to convince Black and a judge of his bogus claim. It has to be a lie. Please, God, let it be a lie.
"You can collect your personal effects, and then I'll have to put a padlock on the store in the morning." Black tipped his hat again. "Again, I'm sorry."
O'Reilly snorted and walked away, followed by the sheriff.
Jon helped a trembling Stephen inside and to a chair. Jon knelt in front of him and took his hands.
"Jon, tell me God isn't punishing me for doing what I just did with you," Stephen begged. "I knew I shouldn't have said anything."
"Stephen, I can't believe God would let O'Reilly win just to get back at us. There are too many people who'll be hurt by this." Jon kissed the tips of his fingers. "We're going to fight this. Everything is going to be all right."
"I love you," Stephen said with a look of childlike trust in his eyes, "even if it isn't."
To be continued…
Author: darkfaery1
Chapter: 9/?
Series: TDS/TCR/The O'Reilly Factor
Genre: Western AU
Chapter pairings: Jon/"Stephen," Steve/Tad, John/Amy
Chapter rating: NC-17 for slash sex and graphic violence.
Content: slash sex, Old West violence, language, angst, prejudice, mild het content.
Word count: 3270
Chapter summary: Amy and John, Jon and Stephen become closer. Tad confronts Paul.
Author's Note: Doctor Stewart went to Harvard in the 1860's because William and Mary never had a medical school and Jews were limited in their higher education choices in the nineteenth century. They were barely tolerated at Harvard. Many thanks to my best cop friend Scott who discussed with me some of the finer points of guns and the consequences of their use. Thanks to my beta insanekht for all her help.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is not intended to portray the life or defame the character of any actual person. Any similarity between the fictional version of the person portrayed here and the actual person is purely coincidental. No money is being made from this work of fiction. It is not intended to infringe upon any copyrighted material. Any mention of any copyrighted material is reasonably protected by the Fair Use Rule of the United States Copyright Act of 1976.
Crossposted to tds_rps
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5
Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8
"You did what?"
"We purchased your contract," John told Amy happily. "You'll never have to go back there again."
John, Doc Stewart, and Mr. Colbert stood around Amy's bed, looking like cats who ate some very fat canaries. Amy tried to keep the anger out of her voice. "That was a very nice thing you all did, but I would have appreciated it if you'd ask me first."
"I'm sorry, Amy," Doc said. "It was my idea and I got a bit carried away. I really should have consulted you before we did anything."
Her tone softened and she smiled, even though it hurt a little to do so. "That's all right. I don't mean to sound ungrateful; I just don't have anywhere else to go."
"You can stay here as long as you want," Doc Stewart said.
John frowned, but Amy smiled even more widely, causing her to press her hands to her bruised cheeks.
The doctor sat on the side of her bed and gently stroked her brow. "Do you need something more for pain?"
"No," she said, taking his hand. "Just don't make me laugh."
John cleared his throat. "I think she should rest now," the Englishman said stiffly. "Don't you, Doctor?"
Both Amy and Doc Stewart were taken aback by John's tone, but Stewart nodded and rose. "He's quite right, Amy, you need to sleep."
Doc Stewart and Mr. Colbert went into the other room, while John stared after them with a stony look.
"What's wrong, honey?"
"It's not important, you have to rest." John took a step towards the door, but she caught his hand.
"Don't leave," Amy whispered.
"Do you want me to sit with you while you sleep?"
She shook her head. "I know I ain't much to look at right now, but I want you to lay yourself down next to me and hold me."
Beads of sweat suddenly appeared on John's forehead. He quickly removed his shoes and lay down beside her, gingerly putting his arm around her waist, careful to avoid her injured ribs.
Amy stroked his cheek lightly. "Now, tell me what's wrong."
John sighed. "Tad left a while ago to confront Paul about what he did to you. I went to the jail to tell the deputy that Tad might need some help, when the sheriff said you were Doctor Stewart's favorite--well, I won't repeat the word he used, except to say that it started with a 'w'."
Amy said a silent prayer for Tad and that poor deputy, then looked John straight in the eye with the one of hers that would open. "The word is 'whore', John. If I'm gonna be your girl, you'd better get used to hearing it. I may be done with Annie, but folks ain't gonna forget where I came from that easy."
"What did he mean by that? Is Doctor Stewart in love with you? It was his idea to buy out your contract, after all."
"We're friends, John, that all," Amy told him. "When Doc Stewart first came to town about five years ago, none of the so-called respectable folks wanted to see him on account of he's Jewish. So his first patients were us Damfino girls. There was one girl, Mary, who Annie found in an orphanage in Albuquerque. She was too old and the orphanage couldn't afford to keep her, so they turned her out. Annie gets a lot of girls that way. Anyway, Mary was a real sweet girl, but she was real sick too. Consumption, Doc said. He took her into his house so the rest of us wouldn't get sick. But she was crying for her mama, so I stayed with her too. 'Course, folks got the wrong idea about me and Doc Stewart. Mary died, but Doc saved the rest of us girls by knowing just what to do right away. Folks didn't say that was the reason, but they came to see him after that."
"That explains your friendship," John said, still anxious, "but he seems to be unusually fond of you. How do you know he's not in love with you?"
Amy gently pushed his hair out of his face. "It ain't my place to say how I know, but you're just gonna have to trust me when I say I know he ain't in love with me."
***
"Are you sure you wouldn't be more comfortable in the parlor?" Jon asked.
"So Oliver can walk in on us?" Stephen replied. "I wouldn't find that at all comfortable, though I had assumed your bedroom would be cleaner than it is."
Stephen felt badly about the embarrassed look on Jon's face, so he went over to him and pulled him into a lingering kiss. Gently intertwining his tongue with Stephen's, Jon seemed to know exactly how much intensity Stephen wanted in the kiss. Jon withdrew from him reluctantly and started picking up the discarded clothing, papers, and books. Stephen draped his coat neatly over a chair, then gathered up a wad of clothes of dubious cleanliness and stuffed them into a drawer. On top of the chest of drawers was a framed Harvard diploma covered with a thick layer of dust.
"Who's Jonathan Stuart Leibowitz?" Stephen asked when he wiped the dust off with his handkerchief and read the name on it.
"That's me. I changed my name when I left New York, so it would sound less Jewish and to protect my family."
Stephen wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to the question, but he asked it anyway. "From what?"
"An unforgivable scandal," Jon said with a sad grin. He sat on the bed and invited Stephen to sit next to him. "After I graduated from Harvard, I went to work at Mount Sinai Hospital in New York. I built up a good reputation for myself fairly quickly. I had a lovely wife, family, friends…" Jon looked down at his hands and absent-mindedly picked at his fingernails. "Then one day, I fell in love with a handsome young doctor; Cooper was his name. It wasn't long before the affair was discovered. Cooper managed to survive the scandal by using his family connections. I was fired, my wife divorced me, even my own mother couldn't forgive me, so I came west."
Stephen put his arms around Jon and kissed him on the forehead, then the lips. "I know it's selfish of me, but I'm glad all those things happened, so you could be here with me in your untidy bedroom."
Jon laughed in that way Stephen loved. He decided to abandon the cleaning effort and pushed Jon down on the bed, then started unbuttoning the doctor's shirt.
"Stephen, are you sure you want to do this now?"
Stephen nodded enthusiastically. "You know as well as I do that what we're doing is a mortal sin. I find it feels less sinful if I don't talk about it while I'm doing it. And if it feels less sinful, then it must be less sinful."
Jon removed his kippah and placed it on the small table beside the bed. Stephen assumed it was in deference to the Jewish God, which was also the Christian God, Jon constantly reminded him. "But how will I know what you want?" Jon asked.
"Hand signals, Jon."
"I cannot not talk while I make love to you!"
"Speak at your immortal soul's peril, but you'll hear nary a word from me from this moment on." Stephen locked his lips with an invisible key, then threw the key over his shoulder.
"All right," Jon giggled, "suit yourself."
Stephen had some difficulty undressing himself and Jon in a timely manner because of his cast, so Jon took over that task. He laid Stephen on his back and just gazed at him for several moments, no doubt drinking in Stephen's overwhelming masculinity, but Stephen longed to be touched.
As if reading his mind, Jon began to run his hands over his chest. Jon straddled Stephen's middle and leaned in to nuzzle his neck. Stephen bit his lip to stifle a gasp.
Devouring his lips, Jon plunged his tongue into Stephen's mouth. Stephen buried his fingers in Jon's hair as Jon trailed his tongue across his jawline, then down his neck. He slowly licked and sucked one nipple, then the other. Tugging at Jon's hair, Stephen arched his back, letting a grunt of pleasure pass his lips. He almost swore out loud, but stopped himself.
Jon raised his head and smiled mischievously. "Better be quiet, I understand God's listening."
Stephen mouthed 'blasphemy', then he indicated by pointing his finger toward his body that he wanted Jon to continue. Jon tickled Stephen's side, but he stubbornly remained silent. After some teasing kisses to his chest and stomach, which elicited a very impatient look from Stephen, Jon caressed the inside of Stephen's thighs, then took him in hand. Stephen liked nothing better than having his cock in a handsome man's hand; it was even better when that handsome man wasn't himself.
But then Jon did something obscene.
Jon traced the slit of his cock with the tip of his tongue, then circled the head before taking it into his mouth. Crying out, Stephen lifted his hips and put his hand on the back of Jon's head, inadvertently forcing himself down Jon's throat. Stephen immediately let him go; Jon sat up breathless, but smiling.
"Did I hurt you?" Stephen asked frantically, wrapping Jon in his arms, his cast pressing against Jon's spine.
"No," Jon said amused. "But you talked."
"Who cares about that?" Stephen cried. "I thought I'd choked you to death! Where did you learn that, that, amazing thing you did?"
"From an old lover," Jon purred. "Do you want me to do it again?"
Stephen's mouth hung open for a moment before he responded. "Yes, please!"
Jon licked the back of Stephen's good ear and whispered. "All right, but you have to do something for me."
"Anything," Stephen moaned.
"I want you inside me."
Stephen's eyes rolled back in his head, but he managed to nod. Jon lay down between Stephen's legs and stroked him a few times before running the flat of his tongue up the shaft and taking the head in his mouth. He swallowed him to the base and slowly brought his mouth up again. It wasn't long before Jon felt Stephen's cock twitch and tasted precum. "Are you close?"
He nodded again, silent because Jon's ministrations had made him speechless. Jon rummaged in a drawer for a bottle of oil. He first lightly covered Stephen's cock, then straddled Stephen and prepared himself. As Jon eased himself onto his cock, Stephen reached out and began stroking Jon's hardness. Jon leaned in for another sultry kiss then started moving up and down Stephen's cock.
Stephen let out groans and gasps as Jon rode him. With his casted hand on Jon's rump, and his good hand stroking him, Stephen began moving his hips to meet Jon's downward thrusts.
"Oh, Stephen," Jon moaned, "that feels so good. Don't stop…so close." Jon soon came all over Stephen's hand and stomach. The sight brought Stephen to the edge. With one last powerful thrust of his hips, Stephen exploded inside of him with a violent shudder.
He was glad they hadn't finished tidying up Jon's room, because there was a shirt close by Jon used to clean him up without getting out of bed. Stephen yawned and drew Jon in a tangled embrace. "I shouldn't say this."
"What?" Jon asked, resting his head against Stephen's chest.
"That hardly felt sinful at all. Why is that, do you suppose?"
Jon looked up into his dark eyes and smiled. "Because I love you. How can that be sinful?"
"You're so smart," Stephen replied. "That’s why I love you." He sighed contently, then fell asleep.
***
Tad approached the ranch from the east side, knowing it couldn't be seen from the house. O'Reilly was still in town, so Tad knew the ranch hands would be taking advantage of his absence and sitting down to supper in the main house instead of the bunkhouse.
He managed to ride up to the front door before the ranch foreman, Seth Rogan, rushed out with a napkin still tucked into his shirt and a shotgun in his hand. As soon as he saw it was Tad, he relaxed. "You ain't supposed to be here, you know that."
Tad dismounted and wrapped the horse's reins around the porch railing. "I'm here to see my brother."
"Shit, Bill's gonna fire me if he knows I let you in."
"If you don't, I'm gonna put a cap in you and go in anyway." Seth made no attempt to stop him, so Tad went inside, but not before wiping a glob of gravy off Seth's chin with his napkin. "Go finish your supper."
Seth sighed, leaned the shotgun by the door, and led Tad to the supper table. Tad found Paul at the head of the table, taking in more whiskey than food. He looked rougher than Tad had ever seen him: disheveled, unshaven, thin as a rail. The hand that was holding the whiskey bottle trembled slightly. The rest of the ranch hands stopped their chatter and took an inordinate interest in their meal.
Paul rose unsteadily and grinned. "Hey, big brother," he said with an edge to his voice. "Where the hell've you been?"
"Working," Tad replied curtly. "I need to talk to you in private."
"God dammit," Paul said, throwing his napkin on his plate. "Can't even finish my supper." He grabbed the whiskey and motioned with it for Tad to follow him into the parlor. He settled in a big, fur-covered chair and took a long pull from his bottle. "This is about Amy, ain't it?"
"For starters."
Paul shrugged. "What was I supposed to do? I had to teach her a lesson. She was runnin' around on me with some piss named Oliver."
"I know. I encouraged him to court her."
Paul slammed his hand against the arm of the chair. "Why the fuck would you go against me like that?"
"Because you don't deserve her--you never did!" Tad yelled. "But she's done with you; done with the Damfino too. We bought out her contract."
"We?"
"Me, John Oliver, Doc Stewart, and Mr. Colbert--I work for him now." Tad smiled proudly. "I quit O'Reilly's weeks ago."
Paul bolted out of his chair. "Is that what you come to tell me, that you betrayed me?"
"No." Tad drew his gun and aimed it at his brother's chest. "I came to take you in for killing that stagecoach driver."
"You were in on it too," his brother reminded him.
"I'm taking us both in."
Paul stared at his brother like he was insane. "So we can hang together?"
Tad nodded sadly. "Remember when Ma died, she made me promise I'd look after you and keep you out of trouble. But instead I followed you straight into Hell. I watched you kill half a dozen men and I didn’t do nothing to stop it. I can't let you do it anymore. And if I hang too, I figure it's fair punishment for breaking my promise." He motioned towards the door with the barrel of his gun. "Come on, Paul, I don't want to hurt you."
"But you're willing to have me hang?" Paul swung the whiskey bottle, shattering it against the side of his brother's head. Tad stumbled to the floor, stunned. Paul took his brother's guns, stuffing the extra in the waistband of his pants, then ran for the door.
Tad wiped the blood and glass away from his face and got to his feet. Seth had rushed towards the door and picked up the shotgun. "I don't want any more trouble, Tad."
"Give me that!" Tad said, grabbing the gun from Seth's hands. Paul was having trouble mounting Tad's horse, who never liked his twin. Tad was going to use the butt of the shotgun to knock his recalcitrant brother out, when Steve appeared around the corner, on foot with his gun pointed at Paul. "Sheriff's deputy, drop your gun!"
Two shots were fired almost simultaneously.
The second shot was fired from Paul's gun, the one he had just taken from Tad. He originally aimed between Steve's eyes, but the bullet went wide and nicked the deputy's left ear; Steve hardly felt it.
The first shot came from the shotgun Tad wielded. When he saw Paul draw his weapon on Steve, Tad secured the shotgun against his shoulder, and aimed at the back of Paul's head. He imagined, fleetingly, that this was some sort of strange battle between his past and future.
Tad fired; the large pellets ripped into Paul's head and exploded in all directions. Tad was lightly splattered with blowback, but Steve was covered with blood and brain, flesh and bone. Paul's lifeless body fell forward with a thud. All that was left of his head was a mangled, smoking, unrecognizable mass. Tad sank to his knees at his brother's side and started to weep. Steve dripped with gore and was unsure of his own injuries. He wanted to comfort Tad, but was overcome by the urge to vomit.
***
It was after dark when a knock came on Doctor Stewart's door. Jon and Stephen quickly dressed, then Jon answered it. It was O'Reilly and Sheriff Black.
"Doc," Black said, inclining his head. "Sorry to bother you, but we've been looking all over for Mr. Colbert. He wasn't at his store or the boardinghouse, so we thought he might be here."
"Why are you looking for me?" Stephen asked.
"I have a paper here--a claim against the land your store's sitting on."
Jon watched all the color drain from Stephen's face. "What?"
"I own that land, Colbert," O'Reilly said in a blustering tone. "Evander Wallace owed me money. All that's left of his estate is that land, and I'm claiming it."
"I imagine you'll want to protest this," the sheriff said, "which you can do in three weeks when the district court convenes."
"Why'd you tell him that for, Lewis?" O'Reilly asked angrily.
"You're not the only one with rights in this town, Bill," Lewis snapped. "In the meantime, I have an injunction from Judge Gibson to shut your store down until then. I'm sorry, Mr. Colbert, my wife really liked shopping there."
Stephen took the piece of paper from the sheriff, but couldn't focus on it. Jon took it from him and read the injunction. Somehow, O'Reilly had managed to convince Black and a judge of his bogus claim. It has to be a lie. Please, God, let it be a lie.
"You can collect your personal effects, and then I'll have to put a padlock on the store in the morning." Black tipped his hat again. "Again, I'm sorry."
O'Reilly snorted and walked away, followed by the sheriff.
Jon helped a trembling Stephen inside and to a chair. Jon knelt in front of him and took his hands.
"Jon, tell me God isn't punishing me for doing what I just did with you," Stephen begged. "I knew I shouldn't have said anything."
"Stephen, I can't believe God would let O'Reilly win just to get back at us. There are too many people who'll be hurt by this." Jon kissed the tips of his fingers. "We're going to fight this. Everything is going to be all right."
"I love you," Stephen said with a look of childlike trust in his eyes, "even if it isn't."
To be continued…