Girl In The Shed
by Peter Jensen
(LLP-574)


PROLOGUE 

Jasper never saw what hit him, at least that's what the authorities claimed. 
He had crawled inside the gaping metal mouth of the wheat harvesting combine 
that sat idly in the field, having broken down Saturday afternoon. Something 
to do with the wide rubber conveyor belt that pulled at the row of metal 
teeth that snapped the wheat straws from the ground, the combine operator 
had told him. Combine mechanics don't usually make a habit of crawling 
inside the machine to see what the problem is, but there had been a good 
reason for it in Jasper's case. 

It was Sunday morning and the field workers were off to church. In other 
nearby agro-businesses in the South Dakota countryside there were plenty of 
land owners who refused to let their laborers off on Sunday, especially 
during the planting and harvesting seasons, but Mr. Olson, a god-fearing man 
had always been a fair employer insisting that his workers show their faces 
at Church, to keep up his own good reputation if for no other reason. 

Then, too, the semi-trucks that hauled the wheat to its storage bins ten 
miles away were already sitting brimming full of the ripe kernels, so there 
was no point in combining more wheat when there was no where to put it. The 
truckers already had their work cut out for them on Monday morning. In fact, 
the combine operators wouldn't be starting up again until late Monday 
morning. 

And then, of course, Jasper had been a little too hung over from the night 
before. He'd been known to finish off a half pint of Jack Daniels and that, 
the coroner had added on the death report, might have been the reason for 
the sudden activation of the combine that literally chewed him to bits. 

He had been called to the fields by one of the operators, though no one knew 
who, to look over the gigantic machine to see what had caused it to suddenly 
stop. At one time the loss of one machine would have been no emergency 
matter. There had been four combines once, but the extra combine that had 
sat idly by, had been sold to pay off last year's taxes when Mr. Olson, the 
owner of the wheat fields had been killed in a plane crash along with his 
wife, Erma. Now, although the wheat ranch was being run at a greatly reduced 
capacity, the loss of another combine could .mean thousands of dollars lost 
if the wheat sat ripening in the sun one more day. So Jasper, being a 
one-time employee of Mr. Olson when times were rosier, had responded to the 
urgent call for help. 

He had driven his two-ton Chevy truck to the dirt road that followed the 
irrigation ditches and parked it near the glen of symmetrically planted pine 
trees that served as a wind break against the threatening summer lightning 
and wind storms that whipped across the South Dakota plains. Carrying his 
battered black metal tool kit in one hand, he trod through the waist-high 
wheat field admiring this year's crop, and headed toward the monster that 
shimmered like a ripe orange in the Sunday morning sunshine. 

He had climbed atop the harvesting machine, and sat for a few meditative 
moments in the driver's seat, staring out over the wavering sea of wheat 
that stretched for miles around him, punctuated only by the wind break and a 
ghostly Minuteman missile, before putting his foot on the gas of the combine 
and turning the key. He wanted to see if the problem was a engine one. The 
combine's engine heaved in a lurching answer. Satisfied, he turned it off, 
knowing the problem had to be in the inner mechanics, 'the guts' of the 
machine. Jasper climbed down from the umbrella-covered driver's seat and set 
about his work. 

He walked around the combine looking for any sign of a clog-a prairie dog 
may have gotten mashed in the spokes which would cause the machine to stall, 
or a part may have come loose. Sometimes the simplest things could cause the 
worst trouble, as these were very sensitive machines. He found nothing out 
of order. 

That left one possibility-an internal malfunction, probably with the 
conveyor belt that drove the motor that pulled at the lethal metal fingers. 
Jasper hesitated and sucked in his breath. Damn, he didn't have the right 
tools with him to loosen the bolts and screws that held the spikes in place. 
Shaking his head, Jasper got down on his hands and knees and stared into the 
gaping mouth of the combine. The first rule in fixing a combine is never, 
never crawl inside, even if the machine is turned off. He sat in the cool 
shade of the orange monster and considered the situation. Either he could go 
back to the shop and pick up the right tools to remove the front end of the 
machine, including the spikes, or he could chance it. He realized though, 
that one wrong move and something, anything as small as a foot tapping 
against the delicately balanced spikes could trap him inside. Jasper took a 
deep breath, drinking in the heady odor of the ripened wheat and thought 
back on when he used to work for old man Olson and made his decision. Olson 
had been a damned fair man and his daughter deserved a break. 

He pulled the bill of his cap down over his eyes to shade them and tucked 
his overalls inside his boots so they would not catch on the spikes. That 
precaution taken, he rolled up his shirt sleeves and crawled inside. Once 
there he saw that the conveyor belt had been sliced clean as a sawed board, 
and it hadn't been an accident. Jasper swore. What kind of idiot would 
deliberately cut the conveyor belt? 

Jasper never found out the answer to that question. A fringe of the shaking 
umbrella tickled against the browned skin of a man's cheek, as he sat in the 
driver's seat and turned on the engine. 

There was an abrupt whine of the gears meshing, a clatter as the spokes 
circled wildly, and a shrill scream from inside the combine. For a hundredth 
of a second, Jasper sensed the terrible acceleration as the disengaged 'gut' 
of the machines shoved him violently around like the vortex of a washing 
machine and sent him whirling into the teeth of the deadly spikes. For an 
instant of time he was confusedly aware of imminent danger, and then the 
world dissolved into an inferno of searing pain that lasted for only a 
fraction of a second. Then all was dark. 

A great fountain of blood spurted out from the spokes of the combine as the 
teeth tore through Jasper's diabolically positioned body. It spurt onto the 
golden wheat ten feet away, the thick liquid dripping from the ripened wheat 
kernels down the proud stalks to pool at the roots. 

The combine chugged a few feet and then stopped, the spikes whirling 
uncontrollably until the key was turned off and the machinery rumbled to 
silence. A man jumped down from the driver's perch and darted across the 
wheat field, head tucked down to his shoulders as he ran. A car choked into 
life, was revved up and then died away down the dirt path leading to the 
main road. 

In the wheat field, the cloying, sick-sweet stench of blood and mashed flesh 
overlaid the crushed wheat as the Sunday morning sun congealed the blood 
spattering the ground. Beneath, the flies were buzzing over the gray splotch 
of brain tissue and ropes of coiled intestines. 

 CHAPTER ONE 

The young woman bending over to pull the ragweed from the patch of marigolds 
was tall and lithe, with silken tanned arms the color of ripe wheat. The 
patched cut-offs she wore showed her small waist and the richly contoured 
swell of her hips and the curves of tapered thigh and calf below. Her 
sleeveless blouse, unbuttoned to the third button, was thrust out 
provocatively by the twin mounds of her full, wide-set breasts, and there 
was a mass of red-gold hair cascading about her sturdy shoulders. 

Leaning against a tree, the bulbous man in the overalls stared down at the 
lush lines of her high-breasted body and chewed on a blade of crab grass. 
For some inexplicable reason, with him, his nibbling lips looked obscene. 
"Mona?" he called. The man crossed his arms over his chest. "You sure you 
don't wanna sell this old house? Sure as hell looks like too much work for a 
little old lady like you to take care of." 

Mona clenched her teeth in exasperation. The man's name was Sylvester, and 
he was her step-mother's only son. He lived in town where he ran a gas 
station and garage, and it wasn't the first time he'd come out to the ranch 
to look around. "No, Sylvester," she sighed with exasperation. "I don't want 
to sell the house, or the land, or the business. I love this land-and it's 
my land." 

"But it's just too damned big," he persisted, spitting out the green 
chlorophyll pulp between his teeth. "No young lady should be stuck with such 
a responsibility. . . . " 

"Look," the redhead sighed again, grasping at an obdurate clump of crab 
grass that threatened to choke the delicate marigolds. " 

I don't want to discuss it any more, Sylvester. I've made up my mind." 

"Just as stubborn as your paw." Mona Olson stiffened with annoyance. Really, 
this pestering step-brother was getting on her nerves, but out of due 
respect to her deceased step-mother she would have to listen to his 
ramblings. But those ramblings were becoming more insistent with each 
unwelcomed visit, and no matter how many times or ways she tried to explain 
her feelings to him, it didn't seem to sink into that balding head of his. 
Mona threw the handful of crab grass on top of the swelling pile and rose to 
her knees. "Okay, Sylvester, what's your offer this time?" 

Sylvester watched as she threw the crab grass over the barbed wire fence and 
into the chicken yard where a single rooster and three hens pecked the dusty 
earth. The chickens, like everything else on the wheat farm, were aging. 
Long ago, it used to be one of the largest wheat farms in the county. It was 
located ten miles out of De Grey, on the Pierre side. The Crow Indian 
Reservation was only twenty miles down the Oahe River that irrigated the 
Olson's wheat farm during droughts. The Olson farm had been one of the 
richest ranches around, but as Old man Olson poured more and more money into 
the farm and as the droughts continued, the place had become neglected for 
lack of funds. Now, after the tragic death of he and his second wife, Erma, 
the ranch house was in bad need of a paint job and new screens, not to 
mention the rotting foundation that needed a face lift. The barn where the 
family's pet riding horses used to chomp on fresh hay was nothing but an 
empty, dusty shell. The gardens that used to intoxicate the nostrils with 
sweetness were now beds of ragweed and crab grass. With the price of 
construction these days, thought the step-brother, Mona is crazy for not 
accepting my offer. 

Mona slipped her feet into her sandals. "Okay, Sylvester. What's your offer 
this time?" she said smothering her hostility. 

Sylvester thrust his hands into his overall pockets and stared down into the 
face of his step-sister. Her face, hardened slightly by impatience and 
irritability, was still beautiful. The nose was short and straight; the 
eyebrows curved impeccably over luminous green eyes; and above the 
determined chin a generous mouth turning upwards at the corners testified to 
the warmth and humor underlying the girl's impetuous nature. He only wished 
that some of that warmth would be aimed at him, for ever since his mother's 
marriage to old man Olson, young Mona had showered him with disdain, finding 
him coarse and unpolished. 

"Well, what's the offer this time?" she asked again curtly, eyeing her 
step-brother's baggy figure with disfavor. She had never liked Sylvester; 
that was no secret. Mona had always found him too unsophisticated and rude 
for her educated taste. and Sylvester realized it, painfully. 

Sylvester played with the snap of his overalls. "First of all, you don't 
know anything about business, Mona...now, now," he said, raising his free 
hand, shaking his head, knowing a protest would follow, "I don't mean that 
as no insult you understand. It's just that this place is too big for you, 
taking care of the house and the land too. I'm just trying to do you a favor 
and take the house off your hands. I know you was born and raised here, but 
a woman can't handle a whole damned wheat farm by herself." 

"Now just a minute, Sylvester," she snorted, true to her redhead nature. 
"Advice is one thing I don't need from you." Mona rested her hands on her 
hips and stared him in the eye. "I admit I'll need someone to take Jasper's 
place," she admitted somewhat sadly, shaking her head. 

"Yeah, that was a damned shame the old boozer crawled into that combine with 
the engine on." Sylvester reached down to pluck another blade of grass to 
stick between his tobacco-stained teeth. "Drinkin'll cause accidents every 
time." 

"Accident? That was no accident, and anybody with a bird brain could figure 
that out! Jasper was the best mechanic in South Dakota...he knew better than 
that. Why, Jasper was Dad's right-hand man." 

Mona stared off into the distance without speaking. When she had come back 
home from school to take over her father's wheat farm left to her in the 
will, she had found Jasper her surrogate father, always ready to help in 
just a moment's notice. His death was no accident, and she knew it. The 
lawyer who'd settled the estate, Jack Jordan, had at first been a source of 
solace and confidence...up to a certain point; and then, for seemingly no 
reason at all, he'd clammed up, tighter than a vacuumed can. She'd put in 
several .calls to him, but none were answered. Jack Jordan had turned his 
back on her for a reason the young heiress failed to comprehend. 

"Now, Mona, don't take it so hard. Everybody in De Grey knows Jasper was a 
drinker. Why, the townsfolk have it he's been hittin' the sauce real hard 
since your Dad died. It ain't no secret...." 

"Jasper was no alcoholic, and it was no accident. Now I don't want to talk 
about it any more." Mona crossed her arms over her breasts and clenched her 
teeth. Everything was getting so crazy, so out of control; but she'd 
resolved to keep on trying, no matter what adversities life threw in her 
path. And Sylvester was one of those negativities, she realized-her own 
step-brother! 

Sylvester nibbled on the blade of crab grass, studying his step-sister's 
stiffened posture. "Let's get sensible," he said straightening, "I know you 
love this land 'cuz you was born here, but it don't seem right for a young 
lady like you to hole herself up on a godforsaken wheat ranch. But if you 
love it that much why don't you keep a couple acres...say twenty maybe . . 
and build yourself a little house. Get married, have kids. But sell the 
rest. Damn, I'm just tryin' to help you out, sis," he said, smacking his 
beefy lips. 

"Yeah, sure!" Mona snickered. "You're just mad because I'm the one who 
inherited this place. But it's mine, you hear? MINE!" She jabbed her index 
finger in the air, gesturing toward herself. "I'm not selling, Sylvester, 
and I wished you would quit bugging me about it. Now I've got a lot to get 
done around here-I've got trucks sitting out there in the fields, full of 
wheat to be stored, then sold. I've got insurance policies to dig up to help 
settle this issue with Jasper's wife, and I've got back taxes to pay. Now if 
you would do me the favor of letting him have a little peace and quiet...." 

Sylvester stood up straight as a ramrod; he spit the grass down to the right 
of his dusty shoe. "A hundred eighty-five grand...that's what I'm offerin' 
ya. And your a damned fool if you refuse, Mona. I'll even give ya twenty 
acres for yerself 

Mona's lower jaw was working back and forth. 

"NO! How many times do I have to say it? NO, NO, NO! You seem to think you 
have some god-given right to this land just because your mother married my 
father. If you want me to go in the house and bring out a copy of the will, 
I'll do just that. This ranch was left to me, the sole offspring of Guy 
Olson. This land is worth a hell of a lot more than that paltry sum, and you 
know it. This is the choicest land in the county...I've got irrigation, I've 
got woodlands, and I've got pride in it...now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like 
to weed mamma's marigolds." Mona turned her back and kicked off her sandals. 

"...Two hundred thousand . . . " 

Mona turned her reddened cheeks towards the pudgy thirty-year old gas 
station owner. "Where the hell do you think you're going to come up with 
figures like that? That business of yours isn't worth more than ten thousand 
and you know it . . . " 

Sylvester's narrow eyes thinned to slits. "I've got investors, people with 
money who're willin' to back me. I could come up with the money 
tomorrow...." 

"Yeah, who?" Mona's green eyes flashed like traffic lights. 

"They wanna stay anonymous, but they're there, Mona, they're there all 
right!" He thrust his hands into the baggy pockets of his overalls, and 

Mona could see the dark circles of sweat under his arms. 

Mona breathed hard. Sylvester had appeared at her house almost every day 
since she'd come back from college to take over the ranch. At first he'd 
tried to solace her, offering his assistance in his clumsy manner. With time 
he'd become more insistent, to the point of becoming a nag. Even after the 
house furniture had been divided up and the family heirlooms proportionately 
decided upon, he'd come back, finally with the excuse of wanting to help her 
fix up the house. Now he wanted to buy it-had wanted to for the past two 
months. She was becoming angry-angry for him putting a price on the land 
she'd grown up on; angry at the intrusion on her privacy; angry because he 
was deceitful, and angry because she was doing everything she could to try 
to keep the place going, and all he did was remind her of impending 
disaster, should she make one unwise decision. 

In fact, however, any lawyer or accountant-maybe even Jasper himself-would 
have advised her to sell. But Mona was an idealistic romantic. This was her 
land, the land where she had been born and raised; it was a part of her. On 
top of her bull-headed persistence, she was a tempestuous, hard-riding 
country girl who loved the challenge of hard labor. Her determination was 
now loaded by the fact that she despised her step-brother and his desire for 
her failure. Though he didn't admit it, that revenge showed in his eyes. 

"Okay," started Mona, fighting her temper that smoldered in her green eyes. 
"I've told you once and for all: I'm not selling, nor will I ever sell this 
land. Daddy left it to me, he entrusted it to me, and I'll do everything 
within my power to keep it in the family. And if you ever come back here 
again, I'm afraid I'll have to have a restraining order issued on you. Is 
that clear, Sylvester!" 

She stood before him, her lushly ripened breasts heaving, her lip curling 
scornfully as she jerked her tawny head imperiously toward the driveway. 
Sylvester flushed darkly as he spit the green chlorophyll saliva onto the 
grass. His eyes lingered for a moment on the sensually swelling contours 
thrusting out her blouse. He'd bet ten dollars to a nickel the bitch wasn't 
wearing any bra under that blouse. He could see her tits move softly under 
the stretched material as she breathed-and the nipples were clearly outlined 
at the tip of each tautly up-thrust mound! His fingers whitened momentarily 
on the denim suspenders as he hooked his thumbs around them; then he said: 

"This is your last chance, Mona. Do you or do you not want to sell?" 

She shook her head. There was no explanation to be made. 

Sylvester's eyes too were glittering angrily now. "Let me tell you one 
thing, sister, one last thing." He smacked his lips. "One day you will be 
sorry." 

Raking her voluptuous body once more with his insolent eyes, he swung on his 
heel and headed for his jeep parked under the elm tree in the drive. A 
moment later the motor of the jeep revved into life and then ground away 
down the gravel path that led toward De Grey. 

His prophecy rang in her ears with the rapacity of a top-ten tune, but she 
blocked it out, obdurately. 

 CHAPTER TWO 

Mona Olson couldn't sleep. 

For the past week after Sylvester's last visit her head had been ringing 
with unanswerable questions. Why would Sylvester insist on buying a ranch 
that was still owing last year's taxes, not to mention bank notes? Sylvester 
had never been a farmer; why the sudden interest in a new occupation? 
Everybody knew the United States had a surfeit of wheat as it was. My God, 
the Russians were buying it all up, anyway. The cost of farming was on the 
rise everyday, and the Republicans had done nothing about it, despite their 
promises. The middle-man, as always, not the farmers, was making the money. 
So why did Sylvester want to buy the land? And the house-that posed another 
bewilderment. Why the interest in the house, too? Maybe that's what he was 
after. On the real estate market, it was worth little, painfully little. 
Anyway, he owned a house in De Grey. Who would want to rent it? The plumbing 
was in anxious need of repairs, and so was the electrical system. Just last 
year Mr. Olson had been forced to call the fire department to put out a 
small blaze in the main fuse box in the basement. And who were these 
investors he bragged of? 

She couldn't think about it any more. There was too much paper work to be 
done, not to mention budgeting. But however difficult it might be, no matter 
how many nights she must stay up burning the midnight oil, she must make it 
work. Her Norwegian stubbornness was up, and her stepbrother's insistence 
only served to strengthen her resolve. 

And strange, unaccountable things had been happening on the farm, too. 
Production was not going as it should. One of the combiners (she suspected 
the man who'd called for Jasper) had been trying to instigate a strike 
amongst the workers, saying that she was not paying minimum wage, which, 
according to the law, was illegal. It had taken a week of meetings to get 
the men to agree to accept a set rate of interest in this year's crops to 
keep them on the job and the wheat from rotting on the stalk. 

Out in the fields one of the combiners had fallen from the machine and 
broken his leg. Now his lawyer was threatening to sue Mona for failure to 
have her equipment up to standards. And Ben had been one of her most trusted 
laborers. 

Strangest of all, Mona had wakened in the middle of the night to hear the 
high pitched wail of a chicken. In the morning she'd found the rooster 
nailed to the clothesline post-minus his head! Whoever would do such a 
perverted thing? 

Someone was trying to get her out. Who? 

And the tongues were wagging in De Grey. People whom she'd known since she 
was born were suddenly turning their backs to her and sticking up their 
noses when she went to town. The Farmer's Cooperative, of which her father 
had been President for eleven years running-an elected official-had suddenly 
refused her credit. 

Mona had lifted her determined chin and shrugged it off. It would take more 
than their nonsense to cut her off from the land she loved. 

So Mona had reason to not sleep. She had gone to bed early after an 
exhausting day of negotiating with the laborers who were becoming more and 
more demanding each day. The truckers were now talking of getting their 
share of the pie, too. Tomorrow she'd resolved to go to Pierre and find 
another lawyer to handle the sticky business. She hadn't time. The wheat was 
sitting in the trucks waiting to be hauled to the storage bins, and in the 
farming business, time is money. 

It was with a sigh of frustration that Mona got out of bed at two o'clock in 
the morning and headed for the kitchen cabinet where the sherry was stored. 
The doctor had suggested tranquilizers, to ease her insomnia during these 
most harrowing of days, but she'd found her own cure in the bottle. 

Just as her red-nailed fingers touched the light switch to the kitchen, she 
noticed a light out in the shed next to the barn where the unused machinery 
was housed. Frowning, she groped for the flashlight. With the price of 
electricity these days she could hardly afford to burn bulbs all night, and 
the fire in the fuse box had scared her too much to shrug it off. 

Mona tutted with annoyance. She had to keep a clear head and be more 
careful, not to mention frugal. Flicking on the flashlight, she groped her 
way out the door, down the creaking back porch steps, holding up her long 
nightgown to keep it from dragging in the powdery dust that tickled her 
ankles. 

The flashlight beam centered on the eerie shadows of the shed, casting deep 
caverns of moving shadows before her eyes. She rubbed her eyes. Were they 
playing tricks on her? Well, she hadn't been getting enough sleep, that she 
knew. Had she seen the shadow of a man? She stopped and listened. A cat 
mewed somewhere in the darkness of the shed, probably hunting for a mouse. 
Times were hard; she smiled to herself. At least the animals weren't 
demanding! Outside, next to the shed, leaves tapped lightly on the window 
panes. 

Mona was neither nervous nor suspicious now, but she shivered again and held 
her long nylon nightgown more closely about her body as she tip-toed into 
the shed and flicked out the light. 

She turned, heading back toward the house, her pace quickening now. In the 
darkness, somewhere in back of her she heard the unmistakable noise of 
shuffling feet...as if...as if...someone were following her! 

Before the horrifying thought had time to crystallize in her mind, a human 
hand closed in a vise-like grip around her bare forearm. 

Mona screamed. 

Another hand clamped itself cruelly over the curve of her bare shoulder as 
she made an instinctive dash to get away, holding her powerless between the 
two sets of steely fingers. She screamed again, a high, wild cry of terror 
sawing into the dark as she struggled frantically to wrestle free of the 
unknown intruder's brutal grasp. A coarse voice chuckled just behind her ear 
and the hot breath jetted revoltingly over her neck and cheek, a smell of 
chewing gum and tobacco. 

Heavy boots scuffed the dusty floor, as she kicked out wildly with her bare 
legs, and the voice chuckled again and then said coarsely: "Jeez! This looks 
like a hot one, Sam! I can see I'm gonna need some help." 

Footsteps pounded on the earthen floor. The next moment, hard hands were at 
her knees...and then a pair of arms locked around her legs and she was swept 
off her feet, a helpless, writhing prisoner held between the two intruders 
like a trapped animal. 

For the third time, Mona Olson screamed. The man behind her laughed aloud. 
"Yer barkin' at the moon, honey," he panted. "There ain't nobody gonna come 
help ya." 

The captive redhead twisted her head and sank her teeth into the thumb of 
the hand grasping her shoulder. 

"Fuck!" the man shouted, snatching his fingers away so that the girl sagged 
almost to the floor, supported only by the hand around her forearm and the 
second man's grip around her knees. "The fucking bitch bit me!" The night 
exploded into a sudden clangor of pain as the injured hand slashed violently 
against the side of Mona's face. 

"You try that once more, you little bitch, and I'll fuck you in the ass!" 

The second man laughed. His voice was deeper and in some was stronger than 
the first. "You said you was ready for a fightin' piece of ass," he 
chuckled. "C'mon, Dan, let's get outta this fucking shed." 

Dan shifted his grip, shoving his hands under the struggling girl's arms so 
that her head and shoulders were crammed against his hard chest and his 
cruel fingers dug into the tender mounds of her breasts through the thin 
nylon of the nightdress. "Okay, Sam, you'll get your chance to touch some 
flesh. Her tits are enough to make your goddamn mouth water!" 

Between them, they bundled the terrified girl through the sliding doors of 
the oil-smelling shed and dragged her to the patch of grass between the barn 
and machine shed. 

"Let me go!" Mona sobbed. "Put me down, you bastards. Who the hell do you 
think you are, anyway?" 

Her mind was a chaos of fear and shock and horror. What were her brutal 
captors doing here? Were they burglars or arsonists? Passing bums who had 
broken into the shed and were looking for a place to sleep? Sex maniacs? 
Indians from the nearby reservation out on the prowl? What were they going 
to do with her...and were there any more of them around? Even if there 
weren't, she could never escape these two. 

The penultimate question was to be answered only too soon. Once under the 
tree, Dan let go of Mona's legs and Sam flung her violently face downwards 
on the ground. She breathed in the moist freshness of the dew that created 
goose bumps on her naked flesh. An instant later, a ham-like hand caught her 
two wrists and twisted them sadistically up into the small of her back; 
another descended heavily onto the nape of her neck, screwing her face 
sideways and forcing her head down hard into the cold wet ground. She was 
pinned there as helplessly as an insect on a board, the hard ground grinding 
cruelly into her pelvic bone through the creases of her hips, her legs 
flailing wildly in the air behind. 

"Let me go, you bastards!" she wailed again. "I don't have anything for you 
to steal. All I've got is a handful of depts...s-so let...let me go!" 

Sam's grating laugh knifed through the dark. 

Thanks, honey, but you ain't seen the end of yer bad luck yet," he chuckled. 

As the frantically squirming redhead rolled her body vainly from side to 
side on the ground under the remorseless pressure of Sam's hands on her neck 
and wrists, her anguished mind took in the meaning of her captors 
words...and a cold chill ran the length of her spine. Surely they couldn't 
be going to . . . ? Surely men even as brutal as these appeared to be 
wouldn't sink to such bestial depths of depravity as to . . . ? She had read 
often enough of women and girls being assaulted and violated by intruders 
but surely it couldn't be happening to her? Oh, God, it couldn't! 

The second man's deep laugh sounded from somewhere behind her flailing legs. 
And a half second after rds she knew with a tingle of horror that her won 
ears were about to be realized. 

Calloused fingers dug into the backs of her thighs, forcing her legs down; 
powerful knees covered in harsh denim slotted into the hollows behind her 
own knees, splaying her legs apart. And then the hands that hauled the hem 
of her nightgown roughly up over her naked young hips and the cold air of 
the night was playing over her shamefully exposed cunt. 

"Aaaaggghhh!" Mona screeched like a frightened owl. "No! No!...No!...Not 
that!...Please don't do it to me!...Nooo . , . . ! " 

She began to thresh even more frantically on the ground, trying to free her 
legs from the imprisoning pressure behind the knees, trying to break the 
iron grip on her wrists and escape the hold on her neck that was thrusting 
her cheek down and squashing her painfully straining breasts against the 
cold ground. 

Her struggles were cut short by Sam's hand slashing brutally across the 
tender flesh of her buttocks; once, twice, three times, four...in savage, 
stinging blows that reduced her sobbed entreaties to gasps and whimpers of 
pain. "Shuddup!" he snarled. "I'll fuck you in the ass if you don't 
shuddup!" 

Mona's heart quailed at his words. Abruptly she froze. 

She lay mewling softly between them, her mind reeling. There was nothing she 
could do now. She had fought as hard as she could, but they were too strong 
for her. She was completely at the mercy of the two anonymous men in the 
dark, pinioned helplessly between them as defenseless as a rag-doll, a toy 
that they would use to satisfy their brutal animal lust. 

There was the unmistakable metallic rip of a zipper being opened and then 
Dan's voice. 

"That's better," he growled. "Just relax and go with it, honey. For Jeez' 
sake I'm being as gentle as I can." 

Above the terrified girl's head, Sam was breathing heavily. "Attaboy, Dan!" 
he gloated. "Lay it to her, man! Fuck it to her! Fuck the livin' shit outta 
her!" 

Mona groaned as she felt his calloused hands seize the softly rounded globes 
of her trembling buttocks, hauling the quaking moons apart...and then 
suddenly she gasped and jerked convulsively as he let go with one hand, spat 
on the fingers, and crammed the saliva-wet digits straight into the 
hair-covered vaginal furrow up between her fearfully quivering thighs. 

The next moment she felt a hard, hot, rubbery pressure nosing against the 
tender folds of flesh at the quaking entrance to her naked cunt. 

Dan had taken his long hard cock in one hand and rammed the throbbing head 
straight at the saliva-drenched orifice of her pussy! Writhing her hips 
vainly in a futile attempt to escape the lewd assault on her exposed 
genitals, she began to sob-a storm of rasping sobs that racked her painfully 
stretched body and sent the hot salt tears spurting from her eyes. 

Prying apart the naked ass-cheeks below him with the fore-finger and thumb 
of one hand, Dan stirred the iron-hard shaft of his pulsating cock into the 
warm moist folds of cuntal flesh flowering amidst the silken curls of pussy 
hair mantling the girl's obscenely splayed loins. She felt the muscles and. 
tendons of his legs tense against the backs of her knees. His denim-clad 
hips leaned hard against her naked buttocks...and then she gave a strangled 
moan as the bulging head of his cock crushed through the fleshy, 
hair-covered lips of her cunt and slid half-an-inch into the wetly heated 
tunnel of her cunt. 

He stirred the rigidly pulsing end of his huge cock into her a few more 
times, dilating and moistening the tightly contracted hole, stretching the 
walls of her tight little cunt in preparation for the brutal impalement to 
come. 

Mona moaned again-and then, as he flexed his hips once more and thrust 
violently forward up into her belly with his raping pole of male hardness, 
she opened her mouth and gave a shrill squeal. 

"Aaaahhh . . . ! It's too big! Stop! You're killlling meeeeee! Aaaaiiieee!" 

Dan chuckled lasciviously. Releasing his cock, he grabbed her buttocks with 
both hands and hauled them apart as he thrust the rock hard length of his 
heatedly throbbing cock far up into the redhead's cunt. His hips smacked 
heavily against her nakedly squirming ass cheeks and his sperm bloated balls 
swung against the damp ground as he plunged his shaft of hardened flesh in 
right up to the hilt with a grunt of animal satisfaction. Mona squealed with 
pain as the hotly pulsating cock head bludgeoned against her cervix; Dan's 
long thick cock was enormous, her belly felt as if it was on fire and she 
was sure the lips of her painfully stretched cunt must be splitting from the 
girth of the plank-stiff instrument wedged into her loins. 

"How's it goin'? " Sam breathed from the darkness above her contorted, 
tear-wet face. 

"Okay," he gasped. "Man, but it's tight in there! You wouldn't believe how 
tight she is...but she ain't no virgin. You was right 'bout that. Ahh, Jeez. 
I gotta take a look at that tight little cunt!" 

There was the sound of clothes being fumbled aside, a soft click, and the 
pencil beam of a small flashlight stabbed the blackness of the room. 

"Hey, turn that off!" Sam warned. "You know we ain't supposed to be seen." 

"Aw, hell, she can't tell who we are through these ski masks," Dan 
protested. "Besides, I just wanna aim it at that pretty little pussy of 
hers." 

He caught his breath with a gasp. "Jeez!" he said softly. "Jeez, would you 
take a look at that." 

Keeping his grip on her wrists and neck, Sam leaned heavily across the 
girl's helplessly prone body. As his weight pressed her even more forcefully 
down into the ground, Mona almost screamed from the pressure of his body 
flattening her breasts below her. "Let's have a look, then," he whispered. 
And then, in his turn, "Holy shit!" 

He was staring over the twin moons of the girl's naked buttocks at the 
circle of light cast by the light. In the pool of illumination, every hair 
in the obscenely exposed cleft between her ass-cheeks stood out sharp and 
clear. Below the tiny puckering ring of her anus, the thick white stump of 
Dan's wetly glistening cock protruded from the gleaming pink flanges of her 
pussy. "Move it around a little, Dan," Sam said hoarsely. "Let's see you 
move it!" 

He watched, fascinated, as his partner began slowly undulating his hips, 
thrusting and withdrawing his plundering cock so that the ravished girl's 
brutally stretched cuntal lips were pulled out lasciviously clasping the 
hard, thick veined shaft of his cock into her cuntal cavity again each time 
he fucked the full length of his maledom home in her quaking belly. "Ain't 
it pretty?" he muttered over and over again. 

And then suddenly the lights clicked off. With a lecherous gasp, Dan grasped 
the half-naked girl's trembling hips and began fucking it into her with 
long, hard strokes. "Jeez, Sam," he panted, "I just can't...I just gotta . . 
. " 

Face downwards on the ground, Mona was still adrift on a sea of shame and 
horror. The searing pain of Dan's entry had subsided, to be replaced by a 
dull ache in the belly that was almost-although she dared not admit it to 
herself-that was almost pleasurable by comparison in its hypnotic regularity 
as he fucked in and out in gradually accelerating tempos. The skewering cock 
fucking into the obscenely milking depths of her cunt was drubbing the 
tender bud of her clitoris against the wet ground as it slid lewdly up and 
down the thin wall of flesh separating her cuntal passage from the 
grass...and already tiny flames of erotic sensation were licking unwantedly 
through her loins and trembling the nerves of her belly. 

The speed of Dan's lunges now suddenly increased...the rhythmic smack of his 
hips against her nakedly up-thrust buttocks grew more 
frantic...hesitated...became sporadic...accelerated again-and then abruptly, 
far up in the hotly throbbing depths of her cunt, she felt his cock bulge 
and heave. The next moment he gave a choked cry and his raping pole of flesh 
spewed its white-hot load against the neck of her womb, squirt after squirt 
of creamy, scalding cum in gradually diminishing spurts. 

Mona opened her mouth and cried in horror. The cruel hands were suddenly 
removed from her neck and wrists, and she heard Sam frenziedly panting: "Let 
me in there, man! Jesus, it's my turn now!" 

But before she could make any attempt to raise herself from the ground a 
heavy weight flattened her down once more against the ground. Dan had leaped 
astride her back, pinning her tingling arms to her sides with his knees and 
leaning forward to rest his sperm-wet hands on the naked cheeks of her ass. 

She heard the harsh rip of Sam's pants opening. His flashlight clicked on 
again-but although she twisted her head around as far as she could, she 
could see nothing but the silhouette of the man straddling her back and a 
confusion of dim shadows cast about their ski-mask covered faces. 

She kicked out experimentally with her now free legs-but at once her ankles 
were grasped in a steely grip and the legs were forced relentlessly down to 
the ground again. "Okay," Sam's voice said from his crouching position on 
the wet earth. Open 'em up, Dan, and let's see what she's got down there." 

The man whose weight was pinning her to the ground grasped her buttocks and 
slowly, torturingly, drew them apart. Sam whistled softly. "Christ!" he 
murmured. 

In the light, the violated redhead's plundered little cunt gaped wetly open 
in its nest of damp hair, the glistening pink folds of flesh gleaming 
stickily with her cuntal secretions and droplets of Dan's cum. There was a 
trail of sperm shining on the inside of her left thigh and between her 
quivering ass-cheeks the pouting, wrinkled hole of her anus distended and 
contracted in time with the ravished girl's labored breath. 

As the two men chuckled salaciously together, Mona felt more open and 
exposed than she ever had in her life. Held brutally down, bent double in a 
position of abject humiliation while they gloatingly examined each hair and 
crevice of her shamefully revealed secret parts, she was stripped of every 
vestige of self respect, robbed of every last shred of decency and pride. 
More quietly this time, she began to cry again, the bitter tears welling up 
from her eyes and splashing on to the dew of the ground. 

Sam rose slowly to his feet, splaying her thighs apart with his knees as he 
grasped the hair and cum-covered lips of her fleshy little cunt in fingers 
and thumbs and drew them slowly apart. The next moment, Mona was squealing 
with terror as he lunged forward savagely with his hips and slid the great 
length of his massively throbbing cock into the heated sheath of her 
hungrily clasping cunt. 

There was no finesse about Sam, no slow-burn build-up to climax, no overture 
subtly orchestrated through to the forte crescendo of the last movement. 
When he fucked, he fucked...like a bull! 

As soon as he felt the scalding elastic grasp of Mona's moistly throbbing 
cunt close around the hard, veined shaft of his cock, he began slamming it 
into her with long powerful strokes, panting in a fury of lustful abandon as 
he jerked his muscular hips convulsively against her naked buttocks. 

Crushed as she was beneath the weight of his brutal companion, the violated 
redhead nevertheless felt to her horror the automatic response of her 
sensually awakening body to the repeated plundering of her loins. As Sam's 
lustfully expanding instrument jackhammered in and out of her hotly tingling 
cuntal passage, the friction of that iron-hard pole of male flesh sawing 
against the sensitive rubbery shaft of her clitoris, teasing it down through 
her hair-lined cuntal lips against the dew moistened earth, triggered off 
spasms of unwanted erotic delight that flamed through her nervous system and 
sent her mind reeling. 

And in some strange way, some bizarre masochistic fashion, the very fact 
that she was being raped-that she was held in this humiliating position 
being fucked half to death by one stranger while another, who had already 
raped her himself, gleefully watched-seemed to heighten the intensity of the 
unbidden thrills trembling out from her ravished loins. Mona Olson, the 
fiery, tempestuous redhead who had never yet found the man strong enough to 
tame her, was getting turned on by the crude assault of two hoodlum rapists 
she had never seen! 

As Sam's powerful hips splatted against her splayed-open buttocks with 
demonic fury and the obscene suck and squelch of his massively thickened 
cock tunneling up into her pussy drowned the panting breath of the two men, 
she began mewling and groaning in ecstatic time with his pistoning thrusts. 

"Oooohhh...Ahhh...Ohhhhhh...Yessssss! 

"Ooooooooooooooooo...Aaaaggghhh!" she chanted-on and on as the drubbing 
staff plowed faster and faster into her wetly throbbing pussy. 

Her orgasm took her by surprise. It was the sheer monotony of the 
pile-driving lunges searing machine-like up into the heated depths of her 
belly that started it off. She felt a delirious sensation building deep in 
the center of her. She fought with every shred of concentration to suppress 
it. But the hypnotic rhythm of the muscled cock fucking in and out of her 
love-starved cunt was too much for her. The fleshy orbs of her buttocks 
trembled convulsively under Dan's hands; spasmodic shudders quivered the 
muscles of her belly and thighs; her hips threshed frenziedly from side to 
side on the grass. And then, like a tidal wave roaring outwards in all 
directions from her punished loins, it was on her . . . 

Even then she tried desperately to hide it. She couldn't let these two 
brutal and despicable bums witness the betrayal of her body! She couldn't! 
Biting her lips until the blood came, she strove to conceal the cries of 
anguished ecstasy bursting from her contorting mouth. But it was no use. Her 
head and shoulders reared galvanically up behind Dan's imprisoning ass and 
her lips flew open. 

"Mmmmmmmmm!...Ooooggghhh!...Ah-ah-ah-aaaggghhh!" she screamed. "I...I...Oh 
God! Oh God!...No! Please!...I'm...Yes, I'm going to...I'm cumming! I'm 
cumming!...Aaaaggghhh!" 

And as the big man remorselessly fucked into her hotly trembling cunt, he 
sensed his complete conquest and subjugation of the lustfully writhing girl, 
his own climax seethed outwards from his balls and exploded devastatingly 
within him. Throwing back his head with a strangled cry of triumph, he 
seized her nakedly flaring hips and slammed his pelvis savagely against her 
ass-cheeks as his burgeoning cock began a wild staccato jerking that spewed 
gust after gust of heated sperm far up into the walls of her lewdly sucking 
pussy. 

For awhile there was no sound in the darkness but the labored panting of 
three pairs of lungs. Dan clambered slowly off Mona's back and zipped up the 
fly of his pants. Sam withdrew his now deflating cock from the wet hairy 
lips of the ravished girl's cunt and slowly straightened up. "Jeez' Christ!" 
he mumbled thickly. "Holy shit!" Mona lay motionless on the ground, the 
summer winds whipping at her flimsy nylon nightgown, tickling her naked 
loins. Her mind was a maelstrom of shame and revulsion and self-disgust 
and...yes! of carnal delight! 

She was brought back to reality when rough hands seized her wrists and 
rougher hands dragged her to a tree where they strapped her hands tightly 
together around the trunk, with the rough tree bark scraping her tender 
skin. They left her there with her legs spread to either side of the tree 
and her arms hugging it. 

Mona screamed, but it did no good. 

 CHAPTER THREE 

"I'd like to report a...a rape, stammered Mona Olson, clutching the 
telephone receiver in her white-knuckled hand. 

"Name...location of crime," came the un-harried officer's voice on the other 
end. 

"Mona Olson." She swallowed hard. "...At my farm." The tired and depressed 
girl hesitated before asking the gruff sounding man on the other end of the 
line how soon it would be until they could send out the sheriff to 
investigate. 

"Ma'am, it's not our normal policy to investigate rape, if indeed it really 
is a case of rape. But if you insist, I'll give Sheriff Dunwall the message, 
but I can't make any promises." 

Mona set the receiver back down on the cradle and fell into the nearest 
chair. Her head was buzzing with vertiginous pain and her wrists were red 
and raw from the belt that had sawed into her wrists for six hellish hours 
before one of the truckers found his employer belted to a tree. Any attempts 
at sleep were useless and she'd sat up all morning drinking coffee, trying 
to clear her head. And now the sheriffs office wasn't even certain they 
considered the rape of her body a significant enough crime to investigate! . 
. . 

She was sitting in the same chair when De Grey's sheriff knocked on the 
screen door of the kitchen. Sheriff Dunwall looked about the house 
appraisingly as he passed through the kitchen, then helped himself to a cup 
of coffee and sat down on the sofa adjacent to the depressed girl. He wore a 
wide-brimmed straw hat that tilted forward over his eyes and he sat with his 
ankles crossed resting on the coffee table. The top button to his shirt was 
open, exposing a hairy chest. He slurped at his coffee twice, then asked for 
sugar. Compliantly, the young redhead dragged herself from the padded 
rocking chair and went to the kitchen to bring him back two lumps. Grinning, 
he took them from her delicate hand and, dunking them in the steaming black 
liquid, lifted the dripping cube to his mouth and sucked the sweet coffee 
from it. He did it three times with each cube until each had dissolved in 
his mouth. 

Then he lifted his eyes and said: "Okay, what's this I hear 'bout you bein' 
attacked?" 

"That's what happened, sir," she began, remembering how ten years ago her 
father had opposed the re-election of Sheriff Dunwall, claiming he had been 
accepting bribery money from the police captain who'd been selling alcohol 
illegally to the unfortunates on the Crow Indian Reservation nearby. That 
thought stirred an instant disgust in the voluptuous redhead's emotionally 
distraught mind, like too much salt in the potatoes. 

"Tell me 'bout what happened. The facts...I gotta know the facts, lady." He 
took out a half-chewed cigar from his breast pocket and plugged it into his 
beefy lips. 

"Well, they had turned on the light out in the machine shed. I had been in 
bed and I got up to get a drink of sherry and-" 

Sheriff Dunwall sat up straight. "Sherry, huh?" he snickered. "So you'd been 
drinkin'! " 

Mona shook her head. "No, I couldn't sleep and so I got up to pour myself a 
drink of sherry and it's then I saw the light on out in the machine shed." 

"But how do you know you hadn't left it on?" he asked, taking out his 
ballpoint pen from the plastic clip case in his other breast pocket. 

Mona uncrossed her legs and crossed her hands in her lap-a look of pure 
innocence, demure and prim. "Well...I always make the rounds before I call 
it a day. You know Daddy had a small fire once because of the fuse box and 
since then I've been very careful not to . . . " 

"But still you have no proof that you didn't leave that light on." Sheriff 
Dunwall gestured broadly with his pudgy right hand that held the pen which, 
so far, had written down nothing. "So you might have left the light on." 

"Sheriff . . . " interrupted Mona. "I don't see the significance of who left 
the light on in the machine shed. The fact is I was lured to the spot then 
attacked and raped by two men." 

"Lured, you say." He smacked his lips and chewed on the ragged butt of the 
cigar. "Did anyone drag you out to the machine shed, or did you go on your 
own volition?" 

Mona stiffened. "Of course I went on my own volition. I have a lot of 
property out here to protect, Sheriff, and I'm doing my damnedest!" 

He snickered. "Now wait a minute, honey. Have they damaged any property in 
any way?...cut any fences?...cut off your electricity?" He shook his head as 
if to answer his own question, then he grinned. 

"So they've committed no felony." 

Mona compressed her lips. "What about the assault and rape?" she demanded. 

"Well, now you claim that you were assaulted and raped, but you know, honey, 
we get calls every day from women who claim to have been raped. Most of 'em 
were willin' at the start and then feel guilty later. That ain't rape, 
that's chickenin' out." 

"Do you mean?" started Mona stormily, "that you think I willingly made love 
to two men who came onto my land illegally and terrorized me?" 

The sheriff held up his hand to halt her accusations. "I'm just tryin' to 
get this story straight. Now can you give me a description? You said 
somethin' about them using a flashlight to get a look at you." He posed his 
pen, ready to write. 

Mona shook her head. "They were wearing ski masks. I didn't see any of their 
faces . . . " 

"What about size? Were they dark? Light? Anything that would help you 
recognize them? Were they Indians? We been having one hell of a time with 
those bastards lately." 

"No, they were not Indians, and I'd appreciate it if you would stop racial 
slurs, Sheriff." She looked away to control her anger, then continued, 
softly this time. "All I can say is that they were...ah, big men. Very 
powerful men. Their voices were kind of...well, coarse. One laughed a lot 
and the other one seemed more in control of himself." She sat back in the 
chair and looked at the sheriff expectantly. 

He pushed his hat to the back of his head and passed his hand over his 
forehead. "That's not much help, Miss. Christ, where the hell do you think 
we're goin' to come up with suspects under that description? I ain't Jack 
Webb, you know. Sounds of voices ain't enough. We gotta have a physical 
description. Could you identify them if they walked by you right now?" 

Mona had to shake her head. 

Sheriff Dunwall sat up and drew in a deep hissing breath. "Don't look good, 
Miss. Don't look good at all. So far we got no descriptions, and we got no 
evidence." 

"But I have evidence," whined Mona, sitting forward in her chair, her eyes 
narrowing. "I've got bruises all over my body." 

The sheriff studied the girl's flawless face and shook his head. "Don't see 
none." 

Mona blushed. She was damned if she was going to show this small-town Hitler 
the purplish bruises mottling the soft flesh of her buttocks, the inflamed 
and swollen lips of her ravished cunt. "Look, here are the marks of the 
belts they used to tie me up," she said uncertainly, pushing up the loose 
sleeves of her shirt. "And the bruises on my arm and shoulder where they 
carried me from the machine shed to the tree." 

"Oh, come on, Miss Olson," he said after a cursory glance. "That ain't 
evidence-not the way I mean! You could have got them bumpin' into anything, 
with fair skin like yours. You been doin' a lot of physical work around 
here, ain't ya?" 

She nodded. 

"See?" he leered, tucking his ball point pen back into his plastic clip case 
and sitting back on the sofa. "Only one thing we could go on, Mona." He 
smacked his lips and feigned a look of embarrassment. 

"What's that?" she asked hopefully. 

"A search . . . " He allowed himself a wintry smile. 

"Go ahead, sheriff. There are plenty of scuff marks in the machine shed. The 
dust leaves plenty of footprints and 

The sheriff held up his hand. "That ain't the kind of search I was thinking 
about, Miss. I'm talking about something a bit more personal than dust and 
footprints; I'm talking about a personal search...your body. That's the only 
way I can tell if you been raped." 

Mona was suddenly silent. 

"It's the only way," he said, chewing on his cigar. 

"Well, I certainly have no intention of allowing myself to be pawed over by 
you or anybody else. I've suffered humiliation enough to last me a life 
time," the girl snapped. 

"It's the law. Of course, we could drop the investigation." 

"No you won't!" rebuked the redhead. "Nobody's gonna come onto my property 
and treat me like a piece of meat and get away with it!" She pursed her 
lips. 

"Then let's get on with it," sighed the sheriff, pretending humiliation. 

Mona bit her lip. This was sheer madness. Breathing hard, she turned to look 
out of the window at the sunlight slanting through the trees and playing 
over the wheat fields beyond, and suddenly she knew she must submit. "Very 
well," she said distantly. "You can search me for evidence. Let's get it 
over with." 

Grunting with satisfaction, the policeman walked over to Mona, gestured for 
her to stand up. He motioned for her to unbutton her shirt, which she did, 
staring out the window. As she stared woodenly at the wall above his head, 
he ran his fingers perfunctorily over her flesh, pulling her shirt far away 
from her body. She was wearing no bra, having dressed hurriedly. Sheriff 
Dunwall smirked when he saw that. She sucked in her breath with a hiss, but 
the touch was brief and impersonal. 

"I said the bruises were on my wrists and thighs, sheriff. Don't you want to 
look between my legs?" she asked sarcastically. 

"Sure do," Dunwall replied calmly. "But first you better take off your 
shorts and panties." 

"What!" 

"How the hell can I see your bruises if you got clothes on?" 

"This is getting more ridiculous every minute," protested Mona. "I've had 
just about enough of this damned town!" 

"Look, lady," cut in the sheriff with his first show of anger and 
irritation. "...I'm doin' you a favor by tryin' to make a case out of 
nothing. For all I know, you might'a let one of them Indians come in 
here...you said you was drinkin', didn't 'ya?...and let 'im get a little 
fresh. That's been known to happen before with single women livin' alone in 
the country, you know. You ain't the first woman to farm." 

Striving to hold back the tears of rage and humiliation, Mona turned her 
back on him and stripped off her shorts and panties without removing the 
tennis shoes she wore. Dunwall placed a hand on her arm and spun her around 
to face him. 

"Okay," Dunwall said. "Now bend down and let me see the area around your 
hips." Mona said nothing. 

Scarlet with mortification, the speechless redhead spread her legs and 
leaned forward, so that, for the second time in two days, her genitals had 
been shamefully exposed to a stranger. 

Dunwall left her in that undignified position while he produced a small 
cardboard box from his pocket, placed it on the table, extracted a tube from 
a small black box and then smearing vaseline over the tube he approached her 
with the greased tube held upright. He probed among the silky hairs covering 
the cleft between her lushly rounded buttocks until he found the entrance to 
her vagina, and then shoved the tube in. 

"This is so we can do a sperm count on you, Miss," he said conversationally 
as he rummaged around in the ridged and trembling passage. "To tell if the 
man actually penetrated." He removed the tube with a slight squelch and put 
it back in the box. "Now stay in that position for a second longer, Miss. We 
gotta take some quick photos here." 

Mona rocked on her heels. She bit her lips and caught her breath to stop 
from crying aloud as the shudder of the camera closed and clicked, 
imprinting an image of the undignified stance that would stay in Mona 
Olson's file for all of posterity to see. She was almost fainting from the 
abject humiliation and shame of this degrading examination. She had never 
felt so humiliated in her whole life, not even under the brutal 
manipulations of Sam and Dan. 

"Good, now turn around please," he ordered. Motioning with his hand, he 
directed her to lean back, both hands on the arm of the chair so that she 
was standing with her knees slightly apart and bent, lewdly exposing her 
genitals from a front view. "This is so I can get a good shot of those 
bruises around 'yer vagina, Miss." He raised the lens to his eye and aimed 
it at the nakedly exposed area of her genitals, trying to capture on film 
the swollen flanges of her cuntal lips, the bruises of her inner thighs 
where the men had taken their turns with her. The shutter clicked again. 
Mona stared at the wall behind Sheriff Dunwall; she was white with rage. 

"Okay, Miss Olson," he said with a smirk. "Now we've got some evidence." He 
picked up the kit and tucked it in his shirt pocket. 

"What was that tube for?" she blurted, her back to the sheriff as she 
hastily pulled on her panties and shorts. 

"For a sperm count. . . . " 

"But...but, surely you don't think that I would have taken no precautions 
after two men raped me!" she snapped. "I doubt you'll find any sperm, 
sheriff. I cleaned myself thoroughly after those bastards were through with 
me!" 

"Shouldn't have done that, Miss. Could screw up your case," he said with a 
smirk. "But I'll see what I can do. As I say," he droned, writing her name 
on a slip of self-adhesive paper and stroking it over the tube box, "we 
ain't got much to go on. Probably was a couple of Indians from the 
reservation, that's all." 

"That's all?V Mona screamed, turning on her heel and stalking past him, 
fastening the last button of her blouse as she stomped toward the door and 
holding it open ajar. 

"I'll let you know if I come up with anything," offered the sheriff, tipping 
his hat toward her and clomping out the door. He was opening the door of the 
Chevy II black and white car when he said, "And Miss, I suggest you don't 
take up with no more Indians. They been causin' a lot of trouble with their 
uprisin's lately and we don't take kindly to that. I know you're sweet to 
their cause, but I suggest you take care." 

He slammed his car door shut, accelerated, and spun gravel as he left a 
dusty cloud of powder spiraling down the driveway after him. 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

Mona's green eyes were still glittering with anger as she trod down the 
cement steps of De Grey National Trust Bank to the sunny main street of De 
Grey. Sheriff Dunwall's slashing accusation still stung her mind with white 
rage although she'd expected little from the small town police department. 
She'd made her complaint as a matter of form, for the record. She hadn't 
really expected them to find her violators; they could have been passing 
migrant workers from the West coast. But she hadn't bargained either for 
quite such obstructive tactics on the part of the sheriff. Not only had 
Dunwall openly doubted her story, implying that she'd all but lured her 
violators to her doorstep to satisfy her prurient needs, but he'd humiliated 
her with the photographs and examination. She doubted if he'd even filed a 
police report. The only report he made, she guessed, was at the local bar 
where he was known to frequent all too often. 

She walked along the rows of parked vehicles, many loaded with farm supplies 
during this busiest of seasons-the harvest-ignoring the nudged elbows and 
whispers among the overalled farmers. No doubt Dunwall had entertained them 
all with his cheap gossip. The tongues were wagging already with tales of 
the Olson girl who let Indians come on her property and make love to her and 
called it rape. They already thought her too headstrong for wanting to take 
over her father's business when her able step-brother could have 
accomplished it more efficiently. But Mona didn't give a damn! She'd show 
them they were wrong. 

She slipped the receipt for the bank note into her wallet and unlocked her 
car door and headed back to the wheat farm, taking the Johnson turn-off that 
led to the dirt road, running parallel to the wind break. She wanted to 
check up on the status of the production. The truckers, ever since the 
uprising issue of dividends, had been showing up late for work and taking 
extra long lunch breaks which, in the end, could cost her at least two full 
days of labor time. That meant money out of her pocket, something she 
couldn't afford. 

When Mona left the fields forty-five minutes later, a four-wheel drive jeep 
that had been waiting at the side of the road directly across from the 
turn-off pulled out behind her and kept stationed right behind her all the 
way to her drive. On the highway, she'd accelerated. The jeep gained speed 
too. When she slowed, so did he. It was obvious she was being followed. 

The driver-he was alone, she saw with a sigh of relief after a glance in her 
rear-view mirror-followed her all the way to the gravel driveway leading to 
her property. As she made the abrupt turn, he braked to a halt, nearly 
slamming into the back of her car. She shook her fist at him, and stared him 
eyeball to eyeball before she disappeared in a cloud of dust down her drive. 
Later, when she walked to the mailbox with her German shepherd, Willie, at 
her side, she heard a low growl emanate from his throat and his shackles 
stand on end. He'd sniffed out a man in the bushes. 

The next day a similar incident happened. A mud-covered truck with Florida 
license plates was waiting for her when she turned out of her driveway to 
head for the wheat fields. This man was younger than the first intruder, but 
his routine was the same. Evidently she was being placed under continual 
surveillance by somebody who didn't care if she knew it or not! Who and why? 

The answer to the first question was obviously Dunwall. He'd already accused 
her of being an Indian sympathizer. But why? It was untrue. During the 
latest South Dakota uprising she'd been at school. Sure, she'd participated 
in a few American Indian Movement meetings, but had never had the time to 
devote herself to the cause. It had been her political affair...everyone in 
college had one. Being followed, on the other hand, was serious...deadly 
serious, and Mona's anger at being spied upon began to be tinged with alarm. 

And then, early the following morning, just as she was tying her boots to 
head for the wheat fields to see how production was going, she heard a 
rustle of tires on gravel and came to the kitchen window to see two squad 
cars pull up next to the front porch. Sheriff Dunwall climbed out of the 
first car and strutted to the steps followed by two policemen from the other 
car. 

"Mona Olson," the sheriff said stiffly when she opened the door. "I'm afraid 
I have to ask you to allow my men to search your house." 

"W-what?" Mona was stupefied. "What for? The rape didn't take place in here, 
I already told you it happened out in the machine shed...." 

"We aren't looking for evidence of rape, Miss. We're lookin' for something 
more serious. Looks as if you're in a shit load of trouble, honey." He 
brushed past her. "Word has it you've been smugglin' ammunition into the 
reservation, aidin' the Indians in their revolts 

"Reservation?" 

"Yeah...ever since Wounded Knee we been havin' problems with the Indians on 
the Crow Reservation...first it was stealin' liquor and hi-jackin' cars. Now 
it's gotten more serious, Miss, and we think you've got something to do with 
it. Now if you'll be kind enough to let my men 

"I will do nothing of the sort!" blurted the redheaded wheat farmer. "I'm 
not lettin' anybody in my house. I've had about enough of stupid small town 
politics." 

Dunwall turned on his heel and waved a piece of paper in her face. "Might 
take a look at this, Miss. It's a warrant, a search warrant, and it says I 
can do damn well anything I please in this house. I'll tear up the floor 
boards if I have to to find that ammunition you been stashing here and 
waiting for pickups. Raped?" He snorted. "We know better'n that now. Truth 
was you couldn't get the price you wanted for ammo so you threatened to cut 
off their supply. Ain't that right, Miss? Don't you think we know how you 
been makin' the money to keep this joint goin'? Christ, yer credit's been 
cut off at the co-op, but yer still pay in' on bank notes...don't make 
sense, don't make no sense at all. But we got the goods on you now." 

"I get raped and you accuse me of selling ammo to the Indians; is that 
right?" Mona couldn't help but stifle a laugh, so absurd was the charge. 

"A federal offence, Miss. 'Nough to put you behind bars for the next forty 
years." 

Mona paled. Snatching the document, she stalked into the living room 
seething with rage. Defiantly, she poured herself a glass of sherry from the 
magnum sitting half-empty on the end table, and sat furiously pulling on a 
cigarette while Dunwall and his men walked into the room and stood staring 
down at her. 

"You searched the house already?" she sneered up at them. "I hope you found 
it worth your while." 

"We didn't find anything, Miss Olson," said the sheriff without expression. 

"Of course you didn't find anything," the angry redhead said without looking 
at him. "This is plumped up charge if I've ever heard of one. James Bond or 
Jack Webb couldn't have done any better. I must say you have a marvelous 
imagination, sheriff," she sneered, pouring herself another glass of sherry, 
letting her unlit cigarette dangle from her lips. 

Dunwall turned to his men. "Okay, boys. Let's go." The threesome stomped out 
of the house, their heavy boots echoing in the empty house. It was a full 
hour before Mona regained her composure. Then she went to tidy up the mess 
the searchers had left. 

In fact, she discovered, when she got down to it, they hadn't taken their 
search very seriously, for there were hundreds of places where ammunition 
could be stored on a ranch. I could have been buried, or hidden in one of 
the combines. It could have been stashed in the empty barn under the molding 
bales of hay...anywhere. Why search the house? Stranger still, the search 
had been conducted basically in the basement amongst the rows of canning 
jars and old kitchen chairs, and in the attic. Even the rotting porch boards 
had been pulled up, leaving a gaping hole in the creaking structure. 

Obviously, the search had been a perfunctory one. Why, then if they knew 
perfectly well there was no ammunition stored, why had they subjected her to 
more humiliation? It had to be a put-up job. She had never had any close 
association with the Indian movement...didn't even know who the 
self-proclaimed leaders were. The search had been another reason to annoy 
and pester her. 

And if again she asked why, the answer was becoming more lucid. Whoever was 
trying-and failing-to persuade her to sell was switching the attack. The 
murky pool of doubt was clearing crystal clear. Obviously it had something 
to do with her step-brother, for he was the one who had asked her to sell in 
the first place. But he'd had investors behind him, he'd claimed. That, the 
redhead knew, had to be true; Sylvester never had a business head nor did he 
have the wherewithal to participate successfully in small-town politics 
whose growing concern during these years of rising inflation, due to 
too-high standards of living and a crumbling government, was turning more 
and more to agro-business. No, she shook her head, it couldn't be all 
Sylvester. He wouldn't have the intelligence to carry through a plan as 
entangled and barbed as the one jarring her life. But he played a role, she 
knew. 

Looking at it this way, everything fitted-Sylvester was probably a patsy. 
The threatened farm laborers strike, the Farmer's Cooperative's refusal to 
grant her credit, Ben's accident-not to mention Jasper's death, had all 
happened after her refusals to sell. And the rape! My God, the rape too! 

If it was true, it was small wonder she had received no cooperation from the 
local sheriff. The 'investors' were willing to risk bribery, rape and murder 
in their attempts to get their hands on her business. The inexplicable 
posting of men to watch her, the searching of her house and accusations of 
aiding and abetting the Indian movement, all were put-ons to shame and 
discourage her and run her out of town. If she ran, she would sell...or so 
they thought! 

The Olson farm was worth money, a lot of money. It had water, a forest area, 
and some of the richest soil in the area being close to the Oahe River whose 
floods brought in the rich minerals of highland run-off. 

She poured herself another glass of sherry to bolster her confidence, 
muttering to herself as she tipped the glass to her lips. The redheaded 
farmer smacked her lips, forced a smile, and toasted to herself. Nobody was 
going to run her off the land she'd called home for the past twenty-two 
years. 

Suddenly, she felt more confident than she had for days. It was the fear and 
uncertainty and the aura of mystery that had sapped her courage to the root; 
now she knew-or thought she knew-what she had to face; the obstacles she had 
to overcome at once reduced themselves to their proper perspective. The only 
thing left was to find out who she had to fight. 

Sylvester, she'd already reasoned, was just a patsy, the most logical person 
to try to convince her to sell. Dunwall had probably been bribed. The thing 
was to find out who was doing the hiring and the telling. 

Attack, she had always been told, was the best method of defense. Very well, 
instead of weakly defending herself against the attacks of others, she would 
go out and stir up the murky waters and find out who was behind the irksome 
plan. 

SHe didn't know whether it was the stimulating effect of the liquor she had 
drunk or merely the relief from tension that knowledge brings, but she felt 
so confident that she decided to put her plans into action right away. She 
would go into town and act her role. She was a wheat farmer, she thought 
with a defiant nod of her perky head, and she would act like one. That's why 
they were after her, wasn't it? 

She glanced at her wristwatch. Lunch time. She smiled. Lunch time was the 
high point of the day for the farm laborers who drove into De Grey for a 
heavy lunch of mashed potatoes and roast beef, washed down by a couple of 
beers. Time for socializing-discussing politics, local gossip, and the price 
of grain. That would give them something to talk about-a female farmer 
wearing farmer's clothes, acting like a man. The George Sand of South 
Dakota! 

Mona dressed in a pair of levis and put on a faded blue work shirt-one that 
had belonged to her father-and rolled up the sleeves. Instead of driving the 
car, she rolled the motorcycle out of the garage and revved up the motor. At 
the cross in the road she eyed a Chevy convertible with a Citizen Band 
aerial spiking up into the sky. A man was slumped over the seat asleep. She 
noted the number of the CB station that was imprinted in decals on the 
windshield, and mentally jotted it down, thinking it might come in handy one 
of these days. The man, she noted with a grin, was not pudgy and middle-aged 
like the others had been. In fact, were he not her adversary she might like 
to get to know the blonde handsome man. 

Miss Muffet's Bar and Grill was lined with lunchtime regulars. The bar area 
was crowded, a long, low-ceilinged room with a bar along one side, and 
tables covered with red and white checkered cloths filled the remainder of 
the room. Every table was filled with overalled farmers, their faces 
streaked with dusty sweat making the room thick with the odor of hard labor. 
No women were in the-room except for the three middle-aged waitresses who 
slithered through the crowded room carrying trays laden with food. The smell 
of roast beef and gravy mingled with the other, more manly scents, making 
Mona rock on her heels. The clatter of plates and animated conversation 
filled the room. 

With an assurance she was far from feeling, Mona pushed through the door, 
walked up to the bar and hitched herself on to one of the stools. For a 
heart-stopping moment all conversation ceased. Heads turned towards her, 
elbows nudged, eyebrows were raised. And then there was a low murmur, a 
sudden bark of laughter from one of the tables, and the talk crashed out as 
before-only this time she was sure most of it was about her. 

The bartender was standing on the far side of the counter, filling two mugs 
with beer from the tap. "Howdy," he said, squinting at the farm lady. "Are 
you drinking?" 

"Yes. Give me a glass of beer." 

There was a buzz of conversation around her. No women had ever stepped foot 
in Miss Muffet's at lunch time. It was a tradition reserved only for 
menfolk. Dressed like a farmer, acting like a farmer, coming in unescorted 
and drinking in the middle of the afternoon, Mona knew they'd be talking 
about her already. Well, that's why she came here, wasn't it? 

Sipping the frosty beer, she swiveled on the stool and looked around her. 
Sure enough, she was the only woman in the place. There were the local 
authorities in one corner, the men from the co-op at another table, and 
several groups of farm laborers at other tables. As she watched, the door 
opened and the blond young man she'd spied asleep in the convertible came in 
and slid onto one of the few empty stools in the restaurant's bar. He was 
better looking than she had thought-tall and muscular with a wide mouth, 
large gray eyes and a tanned, clean-lined face. 

Turning her back on him with a grimace, she picked up her beer mug and 
drained it, before motioning to the bartender to fill it. He complied, 
staring at her askance. 

After her third beer, she began to feel impatient. Nobody seemed to pay any 
attention to her. The one o'clock whistle blew, indicating the end of the 
lunch hour break, and the crowd thinned. Nothing had happened. Nothing had 
changed. The tension Mona felt hadn't spread. Damn it! she thought. Somehow 
she had to get things moving and out of control; that was the only way to 
bring everything out into the open. But how? She paid for her beer, and 
slipped off the stool, her heavy boots clomping on the creaking wooden 
floor. Feeling slightly tipsy, she made for the door. 

Before she got there, her eyes met those of the young man following her. He 
was sitting at the far end of the bar near the window where "Miss 

Muffet's Bar and Grill" was painted in faded red lettering. The sunlight 
played golden over his hair. Feeling bold, she approached him and said, "You 
might be more careful next time. Your boss would be mighty angry if he knew 
you'd fallen asleep on the job." Then she turned on her heel and stomped out 
of the restaurant in an atmosphere heavy with animosity. Others had heard 
her comment and it started the tongues wagging once again. 

Before returning home, she decided to stop at the filling station to have 
the tires checked on the Honda 350. On the ride into town she'd noticed they 
may be in need of air. She roared into Sylvester's gas station and turned 
off the motor. A pimply faced teenager asked if she needed help. 

"Is Sylvester in?" she demanded imperiously. 

He shook his head, pointing to the hand written sign that hung on the door 
knob of the office door: "Proprietor out to Lunch." But what she did see 
through that glass pane brought her ire back to life. There stood Jack 
Jordan, the lawyer who'd handled Guy Olson's estate. A wry grin spread over 
Mona's face as she watched the slick lawyer peek out surreptitiously from 
behind the door and then retreat again, like a bird pecking at a Sand 
Dollar. 

Ah, ha! What was Jack Jordan doing in Sylvester's scuzzy office? The will 
had been settled, hadn't it? Was there something she should know about? Mona 
waved her hand at him and headed for the door, her shoulders back and 
squared. 

"Well, hello, Mr. Jordan. Long time no see." 

She pushed her way through the door to see the tall man with the build of a 
wrestler stuffing some papers in an attach' case. His cheeks flushed crimson 
and she played on his embarrassment. 

"Mr. Jordan, I want you to help me. I'm being followed by somebody who's 
trying to run me off my father's farm. I've had ridiculous offers to buy the 
place, but I won't sell. I've been persecuted by the sheriff of this town 
and I demand something be done." 

Mr. Jordan zipped up the case. "Look, Mona, I've done all I can for you. The 
estate has been settled and you got your fair share, didn't you' I have to 
admit I heard about you selling ammunition to the Indians, and I'd say you 
were damned lucky to get away. That's a federal offense, you know." Nodding 
briefly, he picked up his attach' case and brushed past her out of the door. 
Before she had time to organize a thought, he'd jumped in his car and sped 
away. 

"I don't know what you have to do with Sylvester, you punk lawyer," she 
screamed furiously; "but all of you can go to hell!" 

Jordan, his massive back receding down the highway, gave no indication that 
he had heard. 

Trembling with rage, Mona climbed onto her motorcycle and revved it to life. 
The motor burst into life, and she headed out towards her home. She was 
about a mile out of town when the convertible pulled up behind her. She 
turned her head to see the young blond man from the bar...but this time, 
instead of keeping station with her, he pulled up and blocked her path. 

Mona took to the ditch and ignored the road block. The warm afternoon 
sunshine was sending the liquor she had taken to her head, and she was 
feeling decidedly muzzy. She would have to use all her concentration to keep 
the bike on a straight path and get herself home. 

The dirt swirled in the air as the bike took to the gravel road. Once home, 
she turned off the motor and stood panting, trying to collect her thoughts 
and straighten out her head. 

A grinding of gravel told her she was not alone. She turned her head to see 
the convertible crunching down the drive. The blonde headed man got out of 
the car, leaving the motor on, and walked towards her brazenly. Mona jumped 
with anger and gestured heatedly towards him. "What's the idea following me 
home, trying to run me off the road like this? There are laws about 
trespassing, you know!" 

The young man held up his hand. "Okay, okay, I know." He was smiling. "I 
apologize for running you into the ditch, and I know that I'm trespassing, 
Mona. If I could have, I would have bought you a drink at Miss Muffet's but 
I didn't think it proper. It would have drawn attention to both of us, and 
neither of us need that." 

The enraged redhead shuddered. "What do you mean?" She stood with her hands 
on her hips. "You're from the police department aren't you? Seems everybody 
I come into contact with these days is employed by them. Didn't know this 
town could afford such tight security." 

"I don't work for the police department, Miss Olson, I'm a lawyer for the 
American Indian Brigade. I'm sure you heard of it." 

Mona paled. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

After a cursory glance, Mona invited the stranger into her house. Sitting at 
the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee, he told her that since he'd 
passed the bar exam last August, he'd been living on the Crow Indian 
Reservation south of De Grey helping the Indians fight for their rights. The 
government had been offering to buy their land from them and, the Indians 
being destitute for money, had accepted the offer, selling their precious 
land for precious little, only to be taxed outrageously by the federal 
government. That was his reason for following her, he said. One of his 
fellow volunteer lawyers who served as an elected official of De Grey (whose 
name he refused to divulge), had heard of the accusations being leveled 
against Miss Mona Olson and so he'd come to investigate. For if it had been 
true, he should know about it. And so he'd followed her, watching her every 
movement and concluding, in the final analysis, that Mona Olson was not 
selling ammunition to the Indians who'd decided to take up the gun. For 
those few militants on the reservation were causing problems with the 
peaceful negotiations Jay had been striving for. 

"That's an awful big job you've selected for yourself. And you say you don't 
get paid. You must have a generous father," she managed a smile. 

"As I say," spoke the blonde-haired lawyer, "the reason I came was to find 
out if you were the hardnosed black marketer you were reported to be. Glad 
to find out they were all wrong." 

Mona sat back in her chair and stiffened. "You mean to tell me that people 
in this town-the town was born and raised in-really thought I had anything 
to do with the militancy out on the reservation?" Her coffee cup clattered 
on the saucer. Insults piled upon insults were getting to her calm core. 

Jay sipped his coffee and shook his head. "No, they don't, Mona. It's only a 
couple of people who are trying to plump up charges against you." 

Mona found herself smiling. "Now tell me the real reason you've taken me on 
as another volunteer case. Obviously you're trying to help me or you 
wouldn't have come here," she said. Her voice, she realized with dismay, was 
thick and blurred from the effects of the beer...and somehow it seemed 
terribly important that she should speak clearly and articulately at this 
moment. 

Jay was staring at her, wide gray eyes under the curly blond hair shining 
with admiration as he took in the proud thrust of her breasts under the 
gaping work shirt, the subtly sculptured contours of her perfect face 
hollowed with the shadow of the bright sunshine that danced across her milky 
skin. "Do you really have to ask?" Jay said softly. "It gets awfully 
lonesome out there on the reservation. A man needs some companionship once 
in a while. Can't give it all away for nothing." 

The next moment-Mona never quite knew how it happened-his arms were around 
her and her hands were clasped to the back of his head, pulling his face 
down towards her. It could have been because she had moved for so long in a 
world where every man's hand seemed against her that the discovery of an 
unexpected friend was overwhelming; maybe it was simply a natural woman's 
reaction to male approval that had been denied to her for too long, but all 
of her generous and passionate nature welled up inside of her and overflowed 
the artificial dam she had built and sheltered behind for so many weeks. She 
opened her mouth and kissed her blonde Adonis ardently, lasciviously, 
invitingly; their hotly muscled tongues lacing together in the wet winy 
caverns of their mouths as Jay's arms tightened convulsively about her, and 
Mona's fingers scrabbled at the stuff of his jacket. 

Then she was crying helplessly, her head on his broad shoulder and the hot 
salt tears spilling out of her eyes and running down her cheeks. He crushed 
her to him, squashing her full breasts against his chest, his knee firm 
between her trembling thighs. With one hand, he stroked the cascade of fiery 
hair burnished by the bright sunlight. "Baby," he murmured, "it's all 
right...Relax...it's all right." 

And as she heard the quiet, reassuring tones above her head, Mona felt 
suddenly as though an enormous weight had been lifted from her shoulders. 
The fears and problems and rages of a few minutes ago. dwindled to 
insignificance beside the surge of gratitude and tenderness and sudden 
desire she experienced for the man in whose arms she stood. She wasn't alone 
anymore; she had a friend-and he said it would be all right! 

She could feel the hard bulge of his cock through the stuff of his pants 
against her thigh. She could feel the warmth of his breath playing on her 
hair. She shivered with awareness at the touch of his big hand on her back. 
And all at once she knew that she wanted this Jay...she didn't even know his 
last name...she wanted his warmly pulsating cock inside her, she wanted to 
feel its clean male hardness boring up into her belly...more than she had 
ever wanted anything in her life! 

Raising her tear-stained face, she stared up into his eyes. "Kiss me!" she 
cried fiercely. "Kiss me and hold me tight!" 

Jay caught his breath. He thought the pale features in their frame of tawny 
hair, the luminous green eyes bright with pleading and the voluptuously 
parted lips the most beautiful he had ever seen. Their mouths clasped 
hungrily together. For a delirious moment they stood there kissing while his 
hands roved the supple curve of her back, sculpted the hollows of her waist 
and then insinuated themselves under the shirt to cup the swelling weight of 
her breasts in their palms. And then Jay's arms tightened around her 
shoulders, his other arm dived behind her knees, and he had swept her off 
her feet and was carrying her to the bedroom. 

There he lowered her gently to the bed and cast himself down beside her. He 
panted hoarsely. "Mona?" he croaked, almost as if he were asking her if she 
were sure. 

She gazed mistily up at him in the faint light percolating through the drawn 
curtains, the storm of erotic desire shaking her stifling the power of 
speech. Her mouth opened and her head moved hypnotically from side to side 
on the bed. 

With an inarticulate cry, Jay tore open the buttons of her shirt and forced 
the nylon bra beneath it up and over the tautly up-thrust mounds of her 
breasts. His fingers lightly traced the swelling outlines of naked flesh, 
rolling and tweaking her rubbery nipples until they spiked out into lustful 
hardness. Then with a groan of delight he dropped his head between them and 
hungrily kissed the soft slopes of satiny flesh under which the excited 
redhead's heart was fluttering wildly. His tongue trailed wetly along the 
warm valley separating her breasts, flickered up the incline nearest to him, 
and then circled lasciviously around the areola centered on one erect 
nipple. 

Mona mewled softly with pleasure, arching her hips off the bed as his 
fingers tightened on her tender flesh, forcing the nipple up into his mouth 
while he sucked and nibbled teasingly at the rubbery little bud. Her hand 
crawled down the length of his body, groping for the rigid bulge of his 
lustfully throbbing cock where it thrust out the material of his pants, 
already moist and sticky with seminal fluid seeping from the glans. He 
jerked convulsively and moaned deep in his throat as her fingers tightened 
around the stiffly outlined shaft, thrusting his pelvis towards the 
tantalizing grasp as his lips and tongue alternated frantically between the 
squirming girl's nipples. 

In a state of mindless passion, Mona reached for the zipper at the top of 
his fly and yanked it down. Worming her hand into the opening, she hauled 
aside his shirt and jockey shorts and hauled out his hotly throbbing shaft 
of male flesh. 

As her cool fingers closed around the muscled staff, the young man groaned 
again. His aching cock jerked and trembled at her feather-light touch 
sending unbearable ripples of erotic delight coursing through his loins. 

Jay's cock was long and thick and webbed with veins on the underside, the 
lust-bloated head already bursting through the distended foreskin to nose 
wetly into the girl's excited palm. Her naked breasts rising and falling 
agitatedly with the violence of her emotions. Mona shifted her position so 
that she could reach him with her other hand. Gently, she pulled his 
testicles free of the garments sheathing his hips, kneading and caressing 
the sperm-swollen balls in their hairy sac as she milked the rigidly 
quivering cock and watched his plum-colored cock head appear, then 
disappear, then reappear. 

And then suddenly, drawing his foreskin hard back with her forefinger and 
thumb so that the blood-engorged instrument throbbed and expanded to even 
greater hardness, she snatched her other hand away and tore open the middle 
zipper of her own levis, arching her pelvis off the bed as she dragged the 
garment, the nylon panties under them, down over her hips and kicked them 
off to lie naked on the carpet beside her bed. 

"Oh God!" she groaned, flailing her copper head from side to side on the 
coverlet in wild abandon. "I want you so much! Give it to me! Give it to me 
now!" 

Gasping with excitement, Jay scrambled to his knees, his eagerly pulsing 
cock still firmly grasped in the aroused young redhead's hand. For a moment 
in the dimly lit room he saw her beneath him-she was lying shamelessly on 
the bed, her blouse wide open, her bra pushed up under her arms, the tautly 
erect nipples pointing proudly up at the ceiling. Down the long sunlight 
covered stretch of her naked body he saw from a fugitive gleam of moisture 
among the damp scythe of hairs between her trembling thighs that her 
quivering cuntal furrow was already wet with excitement. And then her legs 
had snaked wide on either side of him and he was sinking down between them, 
her urgent fingers lustfully guiding his pulsating hardness toward her 
cock-hungry pussy. 

He gasped and shivered as the hard rubbery tip nosed damply against the 
hair-fringed, feverishly swollen lips of her cunt, moaning with desire as 
she stirred the sensitive throbbing glans into her warm wet folds of pussy 
flesh. Then he could stand it no longer: supporting himself on the palms of 
his hands on either side of her softly trembling body, he flexed his hips 
and thrust. 

The huge throbbing cudgel slid through Mona's wetly gaping cuntal lips and 
up into the liquid heat of her belly. The scalding elastic sheath swallowed 
the whole length of his rock hard shaft as easily as a vaseline-smoothed 
rubber glove. Never before had he felt a vagina so warm, so buttery, so 
clasping. Her deeper cuntal muscles milked and massaged his pulsating 
hardness until he wanted to yell his delight. Jay clenched his teeth and 
groaned deep in his throat with sensual delight. 

Mona had crowed with ecstasy as the muscled rod of flesh fucked up into her 
belly. Now she released her grasp on Jay's hotly throbbing cock and tore 
open the buttons of his shirt, writhing her naked breasts lasciviously 
against the pale hairs matting his chest. Her legs twined themselves around 
his thighs, her heels locked themselves behind his knees, and she raked her 
fingers passionately down his back as she thrust her cock-stuffed pussy 
convulsively up and down to meet the downward plunges of his powerful hips. 

"Ooooooooh!" she gurgled deliriously, punctuating his words with thrusts and 
withdrawals of his long hard cock. "I'm going...to screw that beautiful 
ass...of you...you gorgeous...sexy bitch! I going to...fuck you...until you 
scream!" 

"Yesss! Yesss!...Give it to me, honey!...Say it again!" 

"I'm going to...fuck you...and fuck you and...fuck you...until you cum...you 
lovely...beautiful...woman!" 

"Aaaaaah!" Mona chanted in a delirium of abandoned desire. "Oh, darling! 
Oooooohhh!" 

Together, they started a slow undulating rhythm, their naked hips smacking 
lewdly together in the stillness of the house as the wildly aroused young 
man's rigidly throbbing cock pistoned relentlessly in and out of her 
hungrily clasping, cock-milking cunt. 

Mona's arms clamped fiercely around his shoulders, drawing him down to her 
so that the taut buds of her lust-hardened nipples continued to grind 
furiously against the bared flesh of his chest. Jay's face was drowned in 
the red tide of her hair, his tongue slavering at the smooth skin of her 
neck as her wetly open mouth crooned obscenities into his ear. His hands 
forced themselves under her undulating ass-cheeks, cupping the cool weight 
of her buttocks against his palms, pulling her up tighter still against the 
jack-hammering trunks of his cock. 

For minutes they fucked in a silence broken only by the slap and squelch of 
naked flesh on flesh and the rasping of excited breath punctuated by 
murmured endearments and small cries of delight. The roar and crackle of a 
wheat-laden truck approaching the house swelled to a crescendo and then died 
as it ground its way from the fields past the house, and finally to the 
storage bins miles away. Somewhere in the apple orchard a bird gave a single 
discordant cry, and a cat responded to that call, scurrying up the tree in 
hunt. 

Arching her strong young hips ferociously upwards to meet the plunging 
thrusts of the man whose rock hard cock was fucking in and out of her belly, 
Mona was in a transport of erotic rapture. Nothing existed in her 
alcohol-dimmed, passion-crazed mind but the reality of the hands clenched 
into the sensitive flesh of her buttocks, the warm mouth at her neck, me 
hard male weight pressing down on her arching nipples, and the thrilling 
assault of the wonderfully hardened cock skewering into her loins. 

For some time now they had been gradually accelerating the tempo of their 
pounding hips. Their nakedly entwined bodies were working together like a 
perfectly designed machine...and the graph of the machine's progress was 
mounting inexorably towards a climax! Over the hammering of his heart and 
the thunder of blood in his ears, Jay realized in the sweet anguish of 
approaching orgasm that the moment was almost there. The graph had begun to 
climb unbearably upward; already he could feel the familiar tension building 
deep in his cum-filled balls...building, building, clamoring for release. 

"Oh God!" he groaned. "Oh, Mona, baby...I can't...I'm almost...Are you 

Drawing up her knees in answer, she wound her legs around the humping Jay's 
waist, her heels drumming frantically on the pumping cheeks of his naked 
ass. He moaned in ecstasy, easing one hand out from under her buttocks to 
squeeze the fleshy hair-covered lips of her cunt more tightly around the 
iron-hard stump of his cock as it sawed savagely in and out of her hotly 
seething pussy. 

Jay's forefinger wormed its way among her sensitive folds ot cuntal flesh to 
find the erect little bud of her clitoris and pushed forward causing her 
sensitive, passion-swollen nerve ending to scrape against his thickly 
swollen male hardness. 

Mona's breath exploded shrilly from her lungs in a convulsion of delight. 
"Oh God!" she exclaimed in a whispered scream, her whole naked body 
shuddering in uncontrollable spasms. "Oh God!...Oh no!...I'm going to...Yes, 
I'm going to ....I'm going to cum . . . " 

"Go on, baby!" Jay groaned, ramming his wildly jerking cock furiously up 
into her heated cuntal hole for the final shattering strokes. "Go 
on...cum!...Cum, cum, cum!" 

"Yes Yesss!...I-Aaaaggghhh! Oh God! I'm cumming!...I'm cuuummmiiinnnggg!" 

Mona's hips writhed and threshed galvanically beneath him as he felt the 
irresistible surge of his own orgasm steam the spasming length of his cock 
and erupt into the hotly sucking depths of her womb in scalding, pulsating 
spurts. Their bodies slammed together in mutual ecstasy. Their arms 
tightened convulsively around one another. And then as Mona, open mouthed, 
rolled her head in speechless delight, Jay arched his back and leaned up off 
her to utter a strangled cry of triumph and fulfillment. 

 CHAPTER SIX 

Jay could not stay the night; he had to get back to the reservation and it 
was a forty-five minute drive from De Grey. Business awaited him there, he 
informed his redheaded lover; important business that could not wait. That 
night he was to meet with his anonymous friend who worked in De Grey's 
county court house. Hopefully he would have dug up information that would 
shed light on the strange goings-on in the town of De Grey where the little 
Hitlers and Ceasars had gathered to each claim his own piece of the pie. 

Mona was up at dawn the next morning, full of enthusiasm and hope. The 
redheaded wheat farmer went about her morning chores singing a tune, her 
heart lightened by the amorous display the handsome lawyer had spurt into 
her. She had found a friend, and she had trusted him with her own body. 
She'd washed the dishes and made the bed before calling her dog to join her 
in a morning jog to the mailbox. The week's correspondence-most letters of 
apology and explanations to creditors-should go out that day if the mail was 
to be delivered by the first of the month. She skipped along, feeling the 
sensual warmth of the morning sunshine caress her skin. It felt good to be 
alive. Life was rich and rewarding, and all would be well despite the small 
town kangaroo court that wanted to hang her by the thumbs. 

She opened the door of the metal box to slip in the letters for the mailman 
to pick up, and left the exact change for the cost of the stamps in an 
envelope with the mailman's name on it. Mona kissed the letters for good 
luck and was about to slam the door shut when she saw a large manila 
envelope nearly folded in half. Muzzed, she stared at it for a silent second 
and bit into her lower lip. Strange, she thought. I know I picked up the 
mail yesterday. She pulled out the envelope and worked at the metal clasp 
that held it shut, noticing as she opened the flap that it had no postmark 
on it. 

She realized with an inward chill of despair that they were photographs. Her 
heart pounded as she pulled out the well-focused black and white shots...her 
pale body with its nakedly jutting breasts writhing in lustful abandon on 
the bed; the shamelessly widespread legs gripping Jay's convulsed hips; her 
contorted face, instantly recognizable, even in open-mouthed ecstasy. And 
rearing up above her half-clothed, obscenely spread-eagled form, the lawyer 
himself, fully dressed except for the wetly glistening white stump of his 
cock disappearing into the triangle of hair at her loins, his head thrown 
back just enough to hide his features but reveal hers to the lens. Even the 
crumpled ball of her discarded pants was visible in the lower left-hand 
corner of the picture. To anyone who didn't know the facts, the story looked 
clear-a drunken nymphomaniac unable to control her sexual urges, wantonly 
seducing some man to assuage her burning lust! She had evidently thrown off 
her clothes to entice him to pander to her animal desire! 

Mona flushed scarlet as she slammed the incriminating print back into the 
envelope and ripped up the package, her teeth grating with the adrenalin 
flow of her working muscles. She swore, stomped her feet, and tore at her 
hair. Damn! Who could have snuck into the house to take those photographs? 
Obviously it had to be one of the men forcing her to sell. Of course...she 
snapped her fingers, calmed now by her perfervid attempt to solve the 
mystery. One of the henchmen had followed her home and seeing a strange car 
parked in the drive had come in to investigate and got his eyes full. 

Her presumptions were not long in debate, for as soon as she'd reached the 
house and closed the door behind her, there was the crunch of tires on the 
gravel driveway. Peering out the kitchen window she saw a car rocking to a 
standstill in front of the porch. The wide door opened and Jack Jordan 
extricated himself from the white convertible and marched heavily toward her 
door. 

He didn't need to knock; the door was open. What did the uncooperative 
perfidious lawyer want of her anyway? He'd washed his hands of her father's 
estate and will; he'd told her so himself. Just one more chessman in a 
disagreeable game of chess. 

It didn't take long for him to announce his purpose for coming. In his hand 
he held a similar envelope to the one she'd found in her mailbox, not more 
than ten minutes prior. 

"Miss Olson," Jordan said, clearing his throat. "I have something I'd like 
to show you. I found this on my desk this morning when I arrived at the 
office. Now don't think I'm trying to pry into your private affairs-I know 
you must be damned lonely out here all by yourself-but having been a close 
friend of your father's, I think you should know about this." He reached out 
to hand her the package. 

Mona's cheeks reddened as she accepted the envelope and put it face down on 
the kitchen table. "I know. I just got a package myself. Seems Kodak is 
making a killing these days." A rising tide of anger began to submerge the 
girl's embarrassment. "Cute, aren't they?" she sneered. 

"I wouldn't take it so lightly, Miss. If these photos should get in the 
wrong hands, we might have a scandal in our nice little quiet town, and we 
wouldn't want that now, would we?" 

"Quiet little town? What a bunch of crap! This town is run by a bunch of 
cheap Al Capones. And that includes you and your peace loving sheriff," she 
said wearily. "I've been followed, harassed, photographed all because 
somebody wants to buy this farm from me. I don't know why you small town 
idiots can't accept the fact that women can run a business as well as a man. 
And as for those photographs, they were taken to embarrass me-once more. 
Already I can't walk into town without tongues wagging. It's getting to be a 
bore, Mr. Jordan and I wish you'd call your honky men off." 

"Miss Olson," Jordan interrupted, holding up his ham-like hand. "I can 
assure you that I'm here in the best of your interest. I'm not a preacher. 
Do you think I give a damn about who this man is you're making love to?" He 
shook his head violently, his beefy jowls jouncing with the movement. "No. 
That's not my concern. I come here as a friend of your father's. What do you 
think Guy would think if he knew his daughter was? 

"Was what? Enjoying herself? Christ, I haven't had a day's peace in the last 
two months and you're thinking of my father's response to that?" she spat, 
pointing an angry finger at the envelope. 

Jordan walked to the window and stood looking out of it, his huge silhouette 
cutting off half the light in the room. "I believe, Miss Olson, you should 
stop and consider who you're talking to. Should these photos fall into the 
wrong hands, you would be in a tight squeeze. But . . . " he grinned, 
swinging around to face her, his sneer suddenly showing through the careful 
veneer of respectability he had adopted for the occasion. "I am in a 
position of authority in this town, don't you forget and should I want to, I 
could have those photos on the morning edition of the De Grey Gazette. 
But...as I say, if you were to be nice to me...." 

"What do you mean by that?" Mona was quickly losing her patience. "You can't 
mean that if I...I go to bed with you...you'll protect me." 

Jordan's livery lips stretched into an obscene smile and he plunged his 
hands into his suit pants pockets. "That's right, Mona. I've got everything 
you need: money, a good reputation, influence." I could get you out of your 
money bind in two days flat...." 

"Ah ha!" Mona cut in triumphantly. "Now I understand! You want to get your 
fat hands on this land, too, huh? What's so damned special about this land 
that everybody in town is trying to get their hands on it?" 

"I don't know, and I've got nothing to do with what they're trying to . . . 
" He stopped to catch his breath and retrace his thoughts. He'd said too 
much already. 

Mona was breathing hard, her lips compressed into a thin red line and her 
green eyes flashing. "The answer is no. N-O! NO! Is that clear?" 

"You slut!" Jordan's phony pomposity was shed now, leaving the tough country 
bully to show through his cheap facade. "You'll fuck this goddamn Indian 
lawyer but you won't make love to me to save your reputation and your farm . 
. . " 

"Yeah, Daddy would be real proud if he knew I'd gone to bed with a two 
hundred pound cheat!" 

"If you don't shuddup, Mona, you're gonna be in a hell of a lot more trouble 
than you are now," Jordan snarled. Moving astonishingly quickly for a man of 
his size, he shot out his arms and grabbed her by the shoulders. 

"Get your hands off of me...let me go!" the frightened girl screamed, 
beating at his barrel chest with her fists and wrestling her shoulders in a 
vain attempt to break his grasp. But the incensed lawyer crushed her to him 
in a powerful hug, pinioning her arms to her sides as his cruel, 
loose-lipped mouth smashed wetly down on hers. Mona's protests were 
smothered in his slobbering kiss as his thick tongue crushed through her 
lips and invaded the tender cavern of her mouth. She twisted her head 
violently from side to side, desperately endeavoring to escape the odious 
embrace as hot breath from his nostrils jetted over her face. Finally she 
clamped her jaws and bit fiercely into the shaft of flesh skewering into her 
ravished mouth. 

Jordan sprang back with a cry of pain, slashing her backhanded across the 
face with a blow that sent her reeling across the room. There was a wolfish 
smile on his face and his teeth were flecked with blood. "You bitch!" he 
snarled. "You'll regret that." Advancing again to where the terrified 
redhead was backed up against a table, he added softly: "Now I'm going to 
show you what it's like to be fucked by a real man!" 

Mona screamed. "Get away from me or I'll have my dog tear you to bits!" she 
cried hysterically. "Leave me alone...you pig!" Dodging under his 
outstretched arms, she made frantically for the door. He caught her in two 
strides, seizing her by the shirt collar and ripping the garment from her 
back in a single savage jerk. Then he spun her around to face him and hooked 
his fingers into the elastic joining the two tautly filled cups of her bra. 
Another brutal tug, and the flimsy foundation tore in two and hung loosely 
from her shoulders as her full, pink-nippled breasts sprang nakedly free. 
"You're so pretty," he panted. "I gotta make you see what a...good...lay I 
am." 

Screaming again, the fear-crazed girl ran for the other door-but Jordan shot 
out his foot and tripped her so that she fell heavily onto a davenport 
beneath the window. In an instant he was towering over her, his bloodied 
mouth grinning and his lust hardened cock thrusting immensely at the 
tight-stretched material of his pants. With a sadistic laugh, he threw 
himself onto her furiously squirming body, rammed the fingers of one hand 
into the waistband of her pants, and hauled upward. The thick denim split 
from waistband to crotch, revealing her softly trembling belly and a 
triangle of silkily curling pubic hair framed in the tatters of her nylon 
panties. 

Sobbing with despair, Mona beat frantically at his vast body with fists and 
feet, kicking and gouging and scratching in a desperate attempt to keep him 
off. Jordan paid no more attention than if the blows had been drops of 
sea-mist falling on his pasty skin. Dragging the torn garments down to her 
ankles in one powerful thrust so that the whole length of her writhing body 
was revealed to his lecherous gaze, he seized her ankles and bent her legs 
back over her head. Then, leaning brutally on the backs of Mona's thighs, 
doubling her up in a humiliating jack-knife position on the cushions, he 
stared gloatingly at her nakedly exposed cuntal furrow before reaching 
forward to caress the red-gold pubic hairs mantling her cunt. The terrified 
young girl shrieked anew and jerked convulsively at the rough touch of his 
fingers on her sensitive pussy flesh. 

There was a deep throated animal snarl and footsteps. "All right, you fat 
bastard. Get up off that girl or I'll turn this dog loose on you...." 

The voice came from the entrance to the door-a voice dry as a whiplash, 
tight with suppressed rage and nervous tension. 

Sprawling around, the sadistic lawyer let go of Mona's legs and stared up 
open-mouthed from his crouched position by the sofa. The naked girl 
struggled up onto her elbows and gave a cry of astonishment. 

Jay was standing with her pet German shepherd, Willie, at his side the only 
thing restraining the dog from tearing the throat of his mistress' violator 
was the strong grip on his collar. Jay's knuckles had turned white under the 
strain of the restraining hold. The dog's teeth showed pearly white as his 
incisors, threatening and sharp, were partially covered by the rippling 
upper lip of the snarling, protective animal. 

"I said get up, you big bastard, or I turn this dog loose. Come on-you fat 
ass. Move!" 

Highlighted by a gleam of sunlight filtering through the window, the dog's 
toothed jaws worked up and down. Jordan scrambled hastily to his feet, 
scowling, and circled around the dog who lunged at him with a hungry look in 
his eye. 

"What the hell are you doin' here? I thought you were down at the 
reservation trying to make decent citizens out of those Indians?" he said 
menacingly. 

"I've got business to take care of here, and I think you know what I'm 
talking about." The two men glared at each other before Jay finally gave him 
the ultimatum. "Get out of here or your face will be in ribbons." 

Jordan was breathing heavily, his lingers clenching and unclenching. A dark 
stain of seminal fluid marked the pale gabardine of his pants at one side of 
his fly. "You're gonna be sorry you ever set foot off that reservation. We 
got your number in tins town. We know what you're after." The big man's eyes 
were glittering malevolently. His jaws were working clinchingly. "Some 
Indian lover and a cheap farm girl who can't control her own cunt. You two 
make a great couple." 

"Get out!" 

Jay loosened his hold on the dog's collar, just enough to let the dog make 
one threatening lunge; his paws hit the floor and his snapping mouth missed 
Jordan's leg by three inches. The bulbous man jumped back, his eyes in 
saucers. "Just you wait," were his parting words. His voice died away as the 
front door slammed. A moment later they heard the car crunch down the 
driveway, the tires squealing as the lawyer made the tight turn onto the 
main highway. 

Sitting up on the davenport naked except for the two halves of the brassiere 
hanging over her shoulders and the fucked-up pants shackling her ankles, 
Mona was laughing hysterically. 

"What's so funny?" Jay was pale faced with anger. 

"Did...did you see the look on his face?" Mona gasped. "I doubt he'll come 
back here for an encore." 

Jay smiled. "Jeez, I'm glad he didn't get you, honey. I hate sloppy 
seconds." 

"Wait a minute," said Mona sitting stiffly. "Were you watching through the 
window or what? I must say, Jay, your sense of timing is truly a sixth sense 
with you." 

"Funny thing," he admitted. "I left my glasses back here in the bedroom. I 
stopped off for breakfast and came back to get 'em. Can't see a damned thing 
without 'em. My eyes are too sensitive to sunlight." 

Mona's smile melted. "Did you see the photographs of us? Actually they're 
pretty good. Can't see much of you though. Who do you suppose was our 
photographer?" 

Jay shook his head. "Don't know, but give me a couple of days and I'll 
answer it. He walked to the table and opened the package, then drew out the 
photographs. "Hmmm, not bad of you. You ever think of modeling?" he laughed. 
"Don't think I approve of the world seeing that beautiful body of yours 
though." 

"But what about the photographs? Do you think he'd be so low as to show them 
around town?" Mona asked wincingly. 

Jay grinned. "I wouldn't worry about it, Mona. I've got a friend who's on 
your side, believe it or not." Dropping the photographs on the table, he 
shot them one last appreciative stare before dropping to the floor next to 
the davenport and stroking the girl's hand. "I'll take care of it, baby. I'm 
a lawyer, remember? And a damned good one, if I must say so myself." 

Mona sighed, her fingers automatically returning the pressure of his hand. 
"I guess so. I just don't want my father's name dragged through the mud in 
this rotten town. He worked too hard to deserve such a post mortem 
disgrace." 

"Don't worry," Jay insisted. "I'll take care of you. In fact, I've got a 
case of my own that I'm working on in De Grey. Means I have to drive down 
here everyday. Maybe...maybe I could rent a room from you for the next 
couple of weeks? You know, you could put me up and I could be your personal 
body guard. I know I'm not built like Sheriff Dunwall or Jordan, but I'm 
pretty damned mean with a gun. Didn't spend two years in the army for 
nothing." He grinned. "Is it a deal?" 

She squeezed his hand. "Is an hour of loving too high a price for one room? 
I could reduce it to thirty minutes if you think that would be more fair." 
Mona giggled. 

"You got yourself a deal, ma'am," Jay said with mock severity. He gazed 
pointedly at her lushly ripened curves of her belly and hips, at the tautly 
swelling breasts with their pink buds of nipples, at the smooth slopes of 
her shoulders and the ivory column of her neck above. "If it's not an 
impertinence for a renter," he said craftily. "I'd like to find out how you 
can cook before I pay my rent." 

The naked redhead looked into his eyes...and blushed. Abruptly she reached 
out her arms and pulled him down so that his head was cradled on her belly. 
"Oh, Jay, you're so insistent." 

As the young man's mouth touched the cool surface of her softly quivering 
flesh, he tensed and sucked in his breath-and then, almost of their own 
volition, his lips began gently nibbling at the satiny skin, his tongue 
trailing wetly along the scarcely visible arrow of tiny gold hairs linking 
her navel with the tawny vee shadowing the top of her thighs. Mona held her 
breath. This was ridiculous! She mustn't let him...not again . . . ! 

Jay's breath was quickening. As his mouth lingered among the silkily curling 
pussy hairs, his hands stole down to her sculptured thighs and tenderly 
pressed them apart. "No!" the trembling redhead whispered. "Jay, no...you 
can't! Stop!" 

But the muscles involuntarily relaxed, her knees fell outwards and she found 
herself surreptitiously freeing one foot from the constricting tangle of 
trousers and panties so that her legs could spread even further. 

The lustfully aroused young man stroked his hands upwards until his fingers 
touched the moistly heated coral flanges of her cuntal slit nestling up 
between her widespread thighs. And then, as she jerked and caught her breath 
at the sudden thrilling contact, he gently pried apart the fleshy, 
hair-covered lips and eased himself along her body so that his mouth could 
close over the gaping wet entrance to her cunt. 

"Darling, don't," Mona breathed ecstatically. "Please don't. Oooooohh!" Her 
shoulders slipped further down among the cushions and her hips squirmed 
lasciviously as his tongue suddenly laced snake-like into the hotly 
throbbing tunnel of her cunt. 

Delicious flickers of unbelievable lewd excitement flamed through her loins 
as Jay's lips sucked teasingly at her quivering pussy and the tip of his hot 
probing tongue found, and then swirled around, the sensually tautened bud of 
her clitoris. The naked young redhead felt her own cuntal secretions begin 
to flood warmly around his lapping mouth as he drew the sensitive, tautly 
throbbing shaft of flesh between his teeth, rolling it from side to side to 
send insane tremors of desire shuddering through her veins. 

"Aaaaaahhh!" she moaned. "Oh, darling! Ooohhh! Oh, what are you doing to 
me?" 

Her hips writhing in slow hypnotic motions, Mona reached her hands out 
blindly for his loins and, for the second time in twenty-four hours, tore 
open the zipper of his pants and dragged out his stiffly upstanding cock. 

For a moment she gazed in fascination at the bloated, purplish head 
protruding from the distended foreskin at the top of the rigidly muscled 
shaft. A pearl of seminal fluid glistened like dew on a rosebud at the slit 
of its tip. Then, twisting the top half of her body towards him, she pulled 
the lust-thickened pole of flesh towards her face and poised her wetly 
ovaled lips above the blood-engorged glans. 

Feeling the warmth of her breath playing over the passion-drenched cock 
head, Jay groaned deep in his chest. A moment later, as the desire-inflamed 
redhead's hot mouth closed wetly over the aching tip of his cock, he was 
levering Mona's quivering thighs even further apart as his tongue slavered 
wildly into the scalding depths of her writhing young cunt. 

The excitement, the sensations of a moistly heated mouth against their 
genitals, was too much for both of them. Almost before Mona knew what was 
happening she felt Jay's warmly throbbing cock growing larger and larger in 
her mouth. Knowing he was about to cum, she began sucking hungrily and 
mewled with an obscene delight as she felt the first heated splash of his 
cum spurt like liquid fire down her throat. 

And that triggered her own orgasm, causing her to spread her legs even 
wider-to get more and more of his wonderfully fucking tongue up inside her 
convulsing cunt. . . . 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

After Jay's suggestion to move in with Mona, life seemed to run a smoother 
course. For an unexplainable reason the threats ceased: no more 
incriminating photographs, no more outrageous offers to buy her land, and no 
more assaults on the redheaded wheat farmer's body. Seldom did she go into 
town during those relaxed days. As for the production end of her business, 
it had become her main concern, and she spent the major part of her time in 
the fields overseeing the combining and trucking. Errands were left to Jay 
who made a scheduled drive to the reservation every two days, bringing back 
groceries and any necessary spare parts for the farm's machinery. Mona was 
looking more relaxed, less strained, and less harried with each day. And her 
confidence was growing, above all. 

The harvest season was half over now, and if wheat prices continued to rise 
as the state Republicans promised, it would be a bumper crop for Mona Olson. 
That meant money, big money-perhaps enough to pay off a few of the 
outstanding bank notes and, hopefully, to pay this year's taxes and buy 
another combine. 

The week wore on, but enthusiasm and hard labor heightened to new levels of 
productivity. On Sunday, Jay drove back from the reservation in a new jeep, 
a four-wheel drive equipped with a Citizen's Band radio, a convertible top, 
and leather bucket seats. Mona simply looked at him askance, wondering where 
a volunteer lawyer for an Indian reservation could get the money to pay for 
the new utility, but didn't ask. 

"Come on, baby," he blurted enthusiastically, showing off the amenities of 
their new vehicle, "Let's test it out. What you say we pack a picnic basket 
and head on out into those hills." He pointed to the forested ridges beyond. 
"I never have seen all of this valuable land everybody's in such a fuss 
about. Come on." He pulled her close and kissed her on the cool forehead. 

They drove the jeep westwards, down the Johnson turn-off where the 
ungraveled dusty road led them past the north quarter wheat fields towards 
the further boundaries of Mona's land, where an arm of the river curved in 
and made a natural harbor among the woods, but it ended in a clearing heaped 
with freshly turned soil, and after that the going was more difficult. The 
jeep lurched like a charging lion and bumped along weed-grown forest trails, 
grinding through plowed ground still unraked. 

"I've always wanted to build a house back here," explained Mona. "In fact, 
if I were forced to sell this land I would keep this area here and plant a 
garden over there." She pointed to a small alluvial plane where the flooded 
river had deposited rich minerals from the highlands further up north where 
the easternern-most section of the Badlands began. 

When the jeep ran out suddenly into an open glen, Mona exclaimed with 
delight. "Here!" she gestured, her red hair flaming in the Sunday sunlight. 
"Stop here!" Jay smiled in agreement. There was underbrush for firewood and 
a clearing large enough to build a fire pit and safely, too. Willow trees 
lined the river bank, at this, the widest part of the river. A few scrub 
pine attested to new growth further away from the river where the soil was 
more sandy and less fertile. 

Jay braked the jeep in the shade of the trees and unpacked the picnic lunch 
from the back of the utility. Mona spread out a checkered table cloth, 
letting it flap in the wind and iron out the wrinkled surface. A country 
girl at heart, she found four rocks and placed one on each corner of the 
cloth to keep it from blowing in the wind, then set the picnic basket in the 
middle Jay hauled out the two six packs of beer and, tying a strong cord 
around the plastic carrying utility, dunked it in the river secured to a 
willow tree that lined the river bank. 

"My family used to come up here for Sunday afternoon picnics," called out 
Mona now on her knees unpacking the picnic basket. She looked up at Jay's 
tall lean, muscular back bending over the river's edge, and her voice, 
sounding somewhat melancholic made the handsome blonde-haired man turn his 
head. She was one hell of a woman, he thought. Damned if she wasn't enough 
to make him want to get involved all over again, even though he'd sworn on a 
stack of bibles after his divorce to never, but never get involved with a 
female again. But Mona's rare qualities of country naturalness, mixed with a 
redheaded obdurate streak that accepted no compromises and made no apologies 
was enough to make the resolved lawyer think twice. 

Jay picked up a sandstone near his right foot where he sat on his haunches 
watching the beer cans bob up and down in the gently flowing river, and 
tossed the stone into the middle of the pool of glistening dark water. It 
plunked with a deep gurgling sound, telling him the river was deep. He 
tossed another for good luck and to keep his mind off the tempting daydreams 
flitting through his lazy Sunday afternoon mind. Jay tutted and sighed, then 
raised his head to appreciate the forested land in this precious quarter of 
Mona Olson's land. Damned right, but it would be a fine place to build a 
house, maybe...maybe raise some kids out here in the country where nature 
was the educator. Give his son and daughter something he never had: a 
relaxed introduction to what life can give you, rather than what you can 
wring from it. Sapping, as his family had done. . . . 

Oh, but it was useless thinking of the past. The future was what mattered. 
And he, Jay Gentry, had all the ingredients to make life a dazzling, natural 
experience, away from the snobbish Boston high society he'd been born into. 
Mona's voice interrupted his daydream. He turned, then stood up and walked 
lightheartedly back to the picnic grounds, snapping open a beer as he 
walked. 

"Nice river, huh?" Mona pointed to a bend further up the willow lined 
glistening pool of water that ran as slow as Jay's daydreams. "See that 
bunch of fallen trees up there? I remember when I was a little girl a 
tornado tore through this part of Daddy's land and uprooted every tree in 
its path. That's why that natural dam makes the water here so slow moving 
and deep. Good fishing spot, too. We used to catch trout out of there, and 
they weren't planted either. We'd come up here for picnics and Daddy and 
Sylvester," she stopped and swallowed hard, as if her step-brother's name 
made her choke with disgust. "...would catch trout and Momma and I would fry 
them over an open fire." She giggled shyly and shrugged her shoulders. "You 
ever had an affair with a country girl before?" she teased, wrinkling up her 
perky nose and squinting against the harsh sunlight. 

Standing at her feet, as she sat with her levied legs spread apart, her 
weight resting on her arms that she'd propped slightly behind her, Jay took 
a desperate gulp of his cold beer and sank to her side. 

"Anybody ever tell you, you're beautiful?" 

Mona blinked her eyes in modest humility, a rare gesture for a redheaded 
tempestuous woman, and grinned. "Yes, but not the same way you do." 

"I love you, Mona," he returned with equal . shyness and a tinge of 
sentimentality. "I haven't said that to a woman for hell of a long time, so 
don't think it hasn't taken some courage to get it out, You're a hell of a 
woman, all right." He turned his can of beer into the ground, boring it into 
the sandy earth to keep it from spilling over, and took Mona in his arms 
with such a force and strength that made her shudder with unexpected 
delight. "All we need is the photographer," she whispered hurriedly, before 
he kissed her hard on the mouth, running his tongue between her teeth as she 
fought to get her breath. Then, her own tongue shot hot and wet back into 
his mouth. 

He pulled her down on the picnic cloth and was on top of her in an instant, 
his strong body crushing hers as he kissed her mouth with a tenderness he'd 
forgotten existed. It explored her face and neck and his hand massaged her 
breasts. He jumped up and seemed suddenly casual as he started to undress. 
He looked down at her with a little grin on one corner of his mouth. "Better 
get those levis off." 

Mona stood up, grinning at him, unzipped her levis and pulled them down over 
her ankles, then stepped out of them. She unbuttoned her shirt and pulled it 
off her milk-white shoulders and stood before him in her bra and panties. 
Jay's eyes glimmered as he took in her voluptuous form. 

She stood facing him again and, smiling, reached behind and snapped the 
clasp of her brassiere and her breasts leaped free, the brassiere falling to 
the sandy ground. 

Jay took off his shirt, revealing his muscular torso to his lady love and 
stepped forward, placing his hands on her breasts. "Not bad," he murmured 
teasingly, "Not bad at all." Playfully, his hands pinched at her nipples and 
she felt them leap into life, sending a bolt of warmth and wetness down into 
her pussy. 

With a grin, she unzipped his pants and undid his belt and watched as his 
pants fell to the ground with a clink of change and keys. Jay stood in his 
underwear, his cock growing underneath, and looked down. His easy laughter 
filled the wide open spaces. "Ever notice how ridiculous a man looks with 
his pants down around his ankles?" he asked. 

Mona put her hand to her mouth and giggled, her fire red hair flaming in the 
sunlight. It was true, there was something absurd about it. He stepped out 
of his pants and pulled off his underwear and stood before her naked, his 
cock swelling as she watched it. It was worth admiring, that cock was. With 
a little pleased sound she took it in her hands and lovingly caressed it and 
stroked the skin back so that the red mushroom head bulged out. 

With a happy cry, she sank to her knees in front of him, the cock still in 
her hands and rubbed it all over her naked breasts and neck and face. Then, 
settling into position, she held it straight out in front of her and let the 
tip of her tongue slide slowly out and lick the head of his cock. She closed 
her eyes and tasted the cum-one little drop-that was glistening in the tiny 
end-slit. It tasted so good. Her lips formed a perfect oval and she pushed 
her head forward, feeling his desire-swollen rod pushing against her lips, 
feeling him pump his hips slowly forward as his hand tangled his fingers in 
her thick hair. With a rush, her lips gave and she opened her mouth wide and 
took all of the thick hot cock she could. It filled her mouth and slid 
easily back into her throat, and she fought against choking as she began to 
gently suck, her lips stroking the tender flesh slowly back and forth. Jay 
didn't have to move as she worked her lips, tongue and jaw to slip his 
foreskin back and forth in her mouth, his blood-filled cock head popping in 
and out. Above her, she heard him catch his breath and mutter, "Jesus, 
Mona." 

Freeing her hands, she cradled his balls with one hand while the other 
slowly reached behind him, felt his hard-muscled thigh, and slowly started 
up until she found his buttocks clenched tight together. Slowly, with one 
finger extended, she began boring in, trying to find and touch his anus 
while she increased the rhythm and intensity of her sucking. She felt his 
cock swelling even bigger in her mouth, forcing her jaw open wider and her 
lips clamped around the shaft like two taut rubber bands. 

Her finger found his anus and she heard him groan as she flicked lightly 
over it. With another, deeper groan, he pushed her head away and, lifting 
her up by the armpits, raised her high and then eased her back on the 
ground. 

Mona, sprawled with her red hair tossed across the checkered cloth, one knee 
up. Jay, his face taut with passion, was hovering over her, pulling off her 
panties with a jerk and falling on top of her. 

She opened her legs wide enough to feel his cock nestle between them, and 
then she squeezed her thighs shut and felt his wetly throbbing hardness 
caught in her warm soft pussy flesh. As he caressed her breasts, cupping one 
so that he could bend his head and gently bite and suck on the nipple, she 
began undulating, moving her thighs and hips, teasing his tortured cock even 
more. The heat, the old lewd feeling was engulfing her again and she gyrated 
more, feeling his body hard and heavy on her. Then, opening her thighs just 
a little and forcing her hands down underneath her so that they cupped the 
cheeks of her buttocks, she slid them under until her fingertips could feel 
the swollen lips of her cunt. God, she thought, I'm so wet! I'm so excited! 

Slowly, she pulled her swollen cuntal lips apart, allowing her cherry-red 
cunt to roll out and feel the shaft of his cock burying itself lengthwise 
along the hungering slit of her pussy. Then she let go and squeezed her 
thighs shut tight again with all her might. 

She exulted in the feeling of having his cock caught in her slippery cunt 
and she pumped her hips and shimmied her thighs as she heard his breathing 
coming heavy and hard. He slipped one arm under her waist and pulled her 
tight toward him, curving her back and forcing her breasts to jut out even 
further. Then she felt his other hand creeping down her back, feeling its 
way down her spine and then forcing, wedging down in between her firm full 
buttocks and the ground. His middle finger felt the deep crack between her 
ass cheeks and slid downward. 

With a moan, she let her thighs relax and slowly spread her legs wide. She 
wanted him, she wanted his prick fucking inside of her. She spread her legs 
as wide as they would go and bent her knees, feeling a trickle of the 
secretions of her cunt seeping down between the bunched cheeks of her 
buttocks and felt it, warm and exciting, flowing over her tightly puckered 
anus. A little cry of delight bubbled out of her throat as, she felt his 
finger slide up and press on her anal entrance, and she squirmed her 
buttocks and bent her knees even more, pulling them back so that her cunt 
and anus were exposed as much as possible to him. 

Again, she felt the delicious experience of giving in, of being submissive. 
Thank God, it wasn't the same as with those two rapists, though. This time 
she wanted to give in and she would not fight her body's wishes. God, she 
thought, I want to fuck this man! I want to make love to him for the rest of 
my life. 

"Oh, Jay," she crooned. "Fuck me, darling. Fuck me as hard as you can!" 

Jay responded by putting the head of his cock against her cunt and rubbing 
it massively up and down, tossing her clitoris around in a maddening way. 
She began pumping her hips, eager to get that huge lust-engorged cock inside 
her, hoping it would fill her and fuck her all day. "I love you, Jay," she 
whispered in his ear. 

In answer, he pushed his hips down and forward and the huge head of his cock 
easily spread the lips of her cunt. She was ready and willing and begging. 
Mona felt her breath leaving her body exactly as if she were falling in a 
high speed elevator and she made a breathy sound as she felt his huge cock 
sliding and swelling inside of her cunt, stretching her cuntal walls in a 
deliciously sensual way. And still it slid in, its passage made easy by her 
lubrication and desire to be fucked. 

It seemed like it could go no farther and still it came, making her feel 
giddy and hot as the top of a cast iron stove. No cock in the whole world 
could be as long as her lover's! Still it came, bludgeoning at last against 
her cervix, and bringing a spasm of pain that delighted and excited her and 
made her nostrils flare and moan, "Oh, Jay, fuck me, fuck me with all you've 
got!" 

And Jay, his face aroused and alight with passion, began fucking his long 
thick cock in and out, and Mona closed her eyes and felt as if she were a 
kid again and on a roller coaster going down one dip to climb to the next 
then, holding her breath, she felt the hurtling wild plunge downward and she 
screamed with a wild abandon and delight. "Fuuuuuuck Meeeeee!" 

Jay started slowly, gradually building the tempo, getting her hips and torso 
moving in rhythm to his, taking her along on a ride, building her to where 
she was wailing constantly while her fingernails clawed at his back and her 
body undulated and rippled in sensuous abandon. 

Timing his move to just the right second, he sank his thick cock all the way 
home as she threw her head back and moaned wildly and thrust her hips up to 
take it all. The thick shaft of his cock had spread her cunt wide and she 
used all her strength to contract her cuntal lips around the glistening wet 
shaft and they trembled in place, each of them using all their strength to 
hold that pose. 

Then, with a quick movement, he plunged his middle finger home into the soft 
tender tissue of her rectum and Mona's mouth fell open and a long throaty 
cry came from her lips. "Aaahhhaaa!" It filled the forest and somewhere up 
the river a fish jumped. 

And then, his finger lodged and squirming, he began fucking her savagely, 
his balls slapping against her exposed buttocks as he lifted her off the 
ground and fucked her down deep into the earth and her natural resilience 
forced her up again to meet his cock fucking deep up into her again. Mona 
saw stars and his face seemed a blur in front of her eyes as she felt 
herself coming with a rush, cumming with an orgasm that would be impossible 
to resist. 

Her mouth flew open and her head thrashed wildly back and forth as her eyes 
rolled white in her head and she felt her body tensing, arching up as the 
orgasm came and twisted her body convulsively like a stick thrown into a 
roaring fire. "I...I'm...I'm cummmmmming!" she moaned then screamed with 
delight as she felt every nerve in her body tingle and her flesh turn to 
cream as her cunt jerked and twitched around his great cock and she came and 
kept cumming as he fucked her harder, hurting her now with his savage 
lustful strength. It had never been like this before with Jay, never. And 
she hoped it would keep getting better every time they made love from now 
on. 

And she kept cumming, again and again as he seemed inexhaustible. He fucked 
her until she felt his cock growing even bigger, swelling, torturing the wet 
inflamed walls of her cunt, and the pain increased her orgasm, sending it 
off in a second rocket burst of cum and she moaned and saliva caught and 
rattled in her throat as his prick kept swelling until she was sure it would 
explode inside of her. 

And it did, with Jay giving out a low bellow. It seemed to burst and shoot 
streams of hot thick sperm inside her, filling her up, engulfing her and 
seeping out of her cunt around the taut cuntal lips. 

One final wild lunge by Jay deep inside of her and one final spurt of hot 
cum and he collapsed moaning and rolling off her onto his back. 

Mona, feeling her bones like warm taffy, rolled over and kissed him then let 
her tongue slide down over his face, his neck, chest, and stomach. She 
licked his body all down to where she buried her face in his tangled pubic 
hair. She was on her knees now, the winds blowing her red hair like a 
waterfall over his body, tickling his loins and inner thighs. Her head held 
his erect cock, and she could feel his hands caressing her buttocks and she 
spread her knees so his fingers could play with her cunt. Opening her eyes, 
she saw his cock in front of her, licked the cum from the tip, and then put 
it in her mouth and sucked, her tongue swirling wildly around. 

She wanted more. Despite her totally fulfilled feeling, lewdness and the 
thrill of having his cock in her again came surging up. She wanted him to 
fuck her again and she sucked with all her might and guile, using every 
trick she could think of to make his cock grow hard and erect again. 

She manipulated his foreskin with her tongue and lips, making it slide back 
and forth on the mushroom head and felt it grow as his hands grew more 
excited and his fingers began sawing in and out of her cunt, making a soft 
wet exciting sound that mingled with the wind in the willow trees and the 
ever-flowing gurgle of the river. She wiggled her buttocks and sucked as she 
felt the cock growing, swelling in her mouth and felt his hips beginning to 
pump. 

The tempo increased and, as her head bobbed up and down, she took as much of 
his thick shaft as she could in her mouth, fighting the impulse to gag. She 
sucked harder and faster as his hips pumped and soon it was hard for her to 
tell if she were sucking him or he was fucking her in the mouth. 

She sucked, feeling the head and shaft growing rock hard again, feeling his 
massive hardness swell, and she knew he was going to cum in her mouth. She 
heard him moan with delight and thrilled at the way his strong loins pumped 
up and down, in and out of her mouth. She felt his hands circling her hips, 
pulling her over him. She lifted one leg and lay flat on top of him, her 
shapely thighs split wide and her cunt right in front of his face. His hands 
cupped her buttocks and pulled her loins down and she felt his tongue 
licking maddeningly at her cunt, burying itself deep inside of her and then 
darting out to lick at her tiny rigid clitoris. 

The two of them lay with their hips pumping wildly and they sucked and 
licked as they clung together, undulating and writhing in sensuous abandon. 
And she felt Jay's body tensing, his cock swelling bigger, forcing her mouth 
open wide as he came, pumping more hot viscous sperm into her mouth. Her 
cheeks bulged and the cords in her neck stood out as she swallowed the 
pungent liquid, her body twisting with delight as Jay darted his tongue in 
and out of her cunt and she came for what seemed like hours. 

Then, the two of them spent, she rolled off him and cuddled beside him, 
feeling the sensuous sunshine paying tribute to her creamy tingling skin. 
They lay there, listening to the birds chirp in the trees near the river 
bank, and watched a butterfly flit dreamily from one flowered weed to 
another. . . . 

Later they enjoyed a picnic lunch of fried chicken and coleslaw washed down 
by river-cooled beer. Chocolate cake for desert, topped with long, loving 
kisses.. 

As the sun was slipping toward the west, and the sky was turning pink, they 
picked up their empty beer cans, folded the checkered table cloth, and 
buried the chicken bones. Mona insisted on driving on the way home to allow 
Jay the pleasure of surveying her land. Proud of that fertile acreage, she 
wanted him to appreciate it, too. Jay sat next to her in the jeep, whistling 
as the utility humped its way over mounds of plowed earth and lurched over 
rocks, leaving the trail behind a cloud of dust. 

A mile down the road, where the wind break separated one wheat field from 
another, watered by the irrigation ditches that webbed off from the river, 
he sat up erect. There, just feet from the unplowed field, half buried in 
the black earth, something red caught his eye. Turning to Mona, he gently 
placed his hand on her arm and cautioned, "Slow down a little, lady. Give me 
time to look over this land of yours." What he didn't want to tell her was 
that it was gasoline drums he spied buried in the earth next to the 
uncombined field of ripened wheat...dry and ready for picking. 

Mentally, he made a note of the exact location of the gasoline drum. There 
may be more, he knew, and if his hunch served him right, he could find the 
rest-if there were more-by coming back to this exact spot later-about forty 
yards from the middle of the wind break . 

"You look tired," said Mona, glancing over at her blonde Adonis while she 
shifted into lower gear. "What's the matter? You look concerned." 

Jay forced a grin, reaching over to peck her on the cheek. He stroked her 
hand. "Nothing, baby. Just thinking about the case I have to work on 
tomorrow. It's going to be a busy day. Think you can make it without me?" he 
teased, watching the sun catch the red paint of the explosive gas drums, 
then darken again as the jeep passed the flashing angle of the sun. 

 CHAPTER EIGHT 

Early the next morning, after pushing aside his egg-yellowed breakfast 
plate, Jay gurgled down the last drops of his now cold black coffee, kissed 
his redheaded sweetheart adieu with promises to be back by mid-afternoon, 
and jumped in the jeep, revving it to life. 

Following the same trail he and Mona had paved the day prior, he slowed the 
little utility to second gear, keeping as close as possible to the same 
tire-worn path. Forty-ish yards from the middle of the wind break, he ground 
to first gear and braked long enough to spy the red gasoline drum half 
buried in the black earth. His senses acute, Jay let his intuition lead him 
to the second, and finally the third drum. No question in his mind now that 
these drums had been buried by arsonists, he continued on, determined to 
find all of the weapons. Mona certainly wouldn't have planted those drums 
there; no wheat farmer would deliberately threaten their own crop, for if 
one of them should explode, if only from the piercing hot sun, it could 
destroy an entire crop. With prairie winds driving the flames it would take 
only minutes for the wheat to be popping on the stalks. 

A mile further down the path, not far from where he and Mona had picnicked 
by the river the day before, he saw a truck, rusted and muddy, parked under 
the scrub pine trees. He cut the motor and coasted the jeep in behind a 
thicket of willows where it was safely out of sight. Had he stumbled upon 
the mysterious investors who were trying to force his Mona out of business? 

Treading warily, he began circling through the low-hanging willow trees 
growing at the river's edge, his ears cocked for any sign of the intruders. 
But it was not until he had approached the clearing that he heard the 
voices. A moment later, his nostrils flared at the sight of them. 

There they were: Sheriff Dunwall, Jack Jordan, Sylvester, and a pimply-faced 
youth whom Jay instantly recognized as Sylvester's part-time employee. They 
were sitting on a log in the clearing, Jack Jordan had a map spread out on 
the ground; he was tracing his finger along mapped trails. "Now we've dug 
all along this line, so we know it's not buried there...and it sure as hell 
isn't anywhere in this quarter of his land, because Guy Olson didn't buy 
that sector until fifteen years before he died. That leaves two 
possibilities," he grunted, his face reddening from the strain of leaning 
over, his belly like bread dough above his invisible belt. 

"Yeah, you're right," said the sheriff, taking off his straw hat and 
scratching his perspiration matted head. "That leaves the house, for one." 
He squatted down by Jordan, put his hat back on his head and pushed it back. 
"I say we try for the house. We get rid of that and she ain't gonna stay 
around no more. Shit, once that house is gone so is our trouble. What you 
say, boys?" 

Sylvester, who until this moment resumed silence, chimed in at that moment. 
"I don't know if I like the sound a that. Burning down a house don't seem 
logical to me somehow," he rebuked, a wave of unexpected sentimentality 
overriding his greed. He crossed his arms across his chest and blushed as 
the two men stared at him disapprovingly. Sheriff Dunwall rose to his feet. 

"Listen here, Sylvester. If it wasn't for us, you wuldn't be gettin' a 
fuckin' dime of this money. Christ, old man Olson didn't even like you, if I 
recall. He put you in the will just to make De Grey think he was a 
god-fearin' man. Ain't no god-fearin' man alive who'd leave his step-son 
outta 'is will no matter how he felt 'bout 'em." 

Jack Jordan leered up at the step-son. "That's right, Sylvester. Weren't out 
of love you got what you did." 

Sylvester stepped back, paled, and clenched and unclenched his fists. In the 
end he'd get what was coming to him. He stuck out his lower lip and stomped 
away into the bushes. A moment later the other three heard a whine of a 
zipper and a low, steady hissing sound. "Feel better?" chided Dunwall, when 
Sylvester came out of the bushes. 

" 'Nough of these interruptions," spat Jordan, all greed now. "We gotta find 
this money before somebody gets smart and brings in the authorities. Shit, 
all we need is to have the state men on our backs. Christ, we made some dumb 
moves forgin' those tax papers that came in from the reservation. Way I see 
it, we need this money to get our asses outta town." He shook his head and 
sighed heavily. "That smart ass lawyer from the reservation's been pokin' 
his nose too damned deep." 

"I say burn the house," repeated Dunwall. 

"Burn that goddamned house so we can get under that foundation. If it's 
buried in milk cans they ain't gonna burn. 'Sides, it'll be a fast fire. 
Won't take long with all the gasoline we got stashed out here," he guffawed 
awkwardly. 

"Says in the will there's damned near five hundred grand stashed down in 
them cans. 'Magine that," Jordan snickered, shaking his head. 

Sylvester's eyes lit up, and for the first time that day, the pimply-faced 
garage assistant showed a sign of life: he whistled through his teeth. 

The four men in the clearing had their backs to Jay. They were all watching 
the lawyer make the latest series of drawings on the map. Jay thrust a 
finger into the neckband of his shirt to ease his collar-the day had been 
sultry and heavy, and there was a hint of thunder in the air-and flitted 
silently from behind the willow to another willow only yards away from where 
the four were gathered. 

None of them seemed to have noticed. He stole soft-footed across the carpet 
of soft river edged grass and peered out from behind a tree so that he could 
see the map from a diagonal. He could see the x's were the gasoline drums 
were buried, the farmhouse, the dates of purchase of the four quarters in 
red ink, and the barn, machine shed, and wind break. Written at the bottom 
of the map, in some figures he could not read, were arrows pointing in the 
four directions...directions of wind, Jay guessed. 

So there was money buried on the property! That's why they were trying to 
run Mona off her own land. A bumper crop maybe? A family inheritance? Jay 
was excited by the discovery. He leaned forward trying to focus on the map. 
Somehow, he'd have to get out of there and back to the house to call the 
police (not that it would do any good) and the fire department to report an 
arson was about to take place. 

He had stolen as far as the second tree near the clearing when a loud buzz 
of static whirred through the still summer air, stinging the ears of all 
five men. A moment later, Mona's voice, clear and precise, blurted through 
the air. "Jay, come home quick! One of the workers spied some gasoline drums 
buried out in the fields...Jay...JAY? Can you hear me? Please, Jay!" 

Jay groaned. Shit! He hadn't turned off the CB transmitter! 

The four men leaped to their feet, swearing. Jay shot one terrified glance 
through the trees to see Dunwall with his revolver in his hand. "Don't try 
it, Indian lover," he warned. "I got a special medal in 'Nam for killin' men 
sneakin' into camp, and I got no special love for you!" 

Panting, the young man raised his arms. He was furious with himself for 
making such a stupid mistake. He shouldn't have underestimated Mona's 
courage or foresight. 

"So the lawyer off the reservation. Lookin' for some pussy, Jay?" Jordan 
sneered. 

Jay said nothing. With any luck they might not realize that he had been able 
to interpret the map. Even if they knew he had overheard the conversation, 
the man had said nothing about the forgery papers and for what reason they'd 
forged them. He'd let them think he was wise to only half the story. In any 
case, the less he said the better. 

"I asked you a question, punk!" Jordan shouted, slapping Jay backhanded 
across the face. "What the fuck are you doin' here, snoopin' around like 
some half-assed creep?" 

The force of the vicious blow sent the young man staggering back a pace. 
There were stars in front of his eyes and his head was ringing. He licked 
the blood from his split lip and said evenly: "I've been helping Miss Olson. 
I saw tire tracks and I followed them. It's part of my job." He saw no harm 
in revealing that he had been hired by Mona; if they thought she knew he was 
here, at least they would hardly shoot him and bury his body in the river. 

"So you're helpin' out our Miss Olson, are you?" repeated the lawyer with a 
coarse laugh. "I'll bet you work real hard for her, don't ya?" It'd take 
more man than you are to keep that farmyard bitch's cunt from itching!" 

Jay flushed and clenched his hands. "I came out here to investigate, just 
like I told you," he said thickly. 

"Don't give me that cock-suckin' bullshit, you bastard!" Jordan yelled. 
Striding forward, beside himself with rage, he raised his huge arm and 
smashed a devastating blow to Jay's solar plexus. 

Jay went over backwards as if he had been poleaxed, landing six feet away on 
the rock with the blood thundering in his ears and breath groaning from his 
tortured lungs. Dunwall and Sylvester hauled him to his feet, retching and 
wheezing. The stop-brother's eyes were glistening and his mean little mouth 
was wet with saliva. 

As they held the young man's arms, Jordan drew back his ham-like fist again 
and slammed another savage punch into the pit of Jay's stomach. 

Jay rocketed back with the force of the blow, his arms torn out of the men's 
grasp, and cannoned sickeningly against the bank beneath the tree. He slid 
limply to the ground, rolled over on his hand and knees, and vomited onto 
the rock-studded river bank, his chest heaving in convulsive spasms as 
animal sounds whined from his gaping mouth. 

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stared up at the bullies. 
He'd get even, God help him he would! It didn't matter if it took all his 
money and his time. He had a double score to settle with them now to pay 
them back for the hurt he'd caused the two people he loved most in the 
world: the poor unfortunate Indians on the reservation and Mona. Yes, Mona. 
He's spare his life for her, he realized. 

Dunwall was looking uneasy. The barrel of his gun, which had been covering 
Jay, had begun to waver. "Hold it, Jordan," he said as Jordan was about to 
approach the fallen man. "We don't want no murder charge on top of 
everything else." 

"Shuddup, you goddamn pussy!" the lawyer interrupted. "We got a personal 
matter to settle here." 

"I don't care what you got to settle, Jack. I ain't gettin' involved in no 
murder!" He pointed the gun at the ground. 

"Then get your ass outta here, but don't come pawing the ashes lookin' for 
no money. If you don't want to see no blood shed, I suggest you get your ass 
back up to the truck. And take these stupid bastards with ya!" He motioned 
his head toward Sylvester and the pimply faced youth. 

Dunwall hesitated, glanced around and finally shrugged his shoulders. "Okay, 
Jordan, but don't take too much time. You heard that bitch's voice on the 
radio. She knows we're out here," he mumbled. Slamming the revolver back 
into its holster, he walked quickly away through the trees. 

Jordan was standing over Jay, his fingers clenching and unclenching at his 
sides. The young man's breath was beginning at last to whistle in agonized 
shudder back into his lungs. The lawyer jerked his head at the pimply faced 
youth named Orrin who'd said nothing since Jay's unexpected visit. "You, 
Orrin," he grunted. "Get the gun outta his holster in case I bruise my 
knuckles hitting the bastard." 

Orrin grunted and reached in the open front of the kneeling man's lumber 
jacket and twitched the gun out. 

"Now give me the gun...then you go see if you can do anything to get that 
Sylvester off his ass and help him tie this creep's hands behind his back." 

By the time Jay was breathing fairly normally again, he had been dragged to 
his feet and his wrists bound tightly together. He stood swaying slightly, 
his head spinning and his diaphragm and chest on fire, staring up at Jordan 
through pain-dimmed eyes. "Hardly think it's fair, Jordan. A man with his 
hands tied behind his back and an insane idiot with a gun." 

The bulbous man stretched out his gun arm and pistol-whipped him savagely 
twice across the face. Jay cried out in pain as the steel barrel laid open 
his cheek to the bone and then smashed sickeningly against the end of his 
nose. A curtain of blood flowed from the split cheek and mingled with the 
twin stream pouring from his nostrils and spattering the front of his 
jacket. He sank down on one knee and dazedly shook his head. 

"This is the minute I been waitin' for, ever since you brought that 
goddamned dog in on me," Jordan spat. "Okay, I ay. I warned you then, but 
you two little snots couldn't leave well enough alone, and now I'm gonna 
beat the shit out of you just to teach you a lesson I" He nodded to 
Sylvester and Orrin, who pulled the half-stunned man to his feet for the 
third time and propped him up again. 

Jordan balanced on the balls of his feet, judging his distance. Then he drew 
back his right arm and piled a murderous blow to Jay's heart, following it 
with a vicious left hook to the chin that sent his helpless victim reeling 
sideways. Jay felt as though the world had exploded in his face. From an 
infinite distance, he heard the thud and crack of the terrible punches 
landing over the anguished grunts of his own breath. The big man's strength, 
despite his out-of-shape pudginess, was unbelievable. 

He would have fallen again if Sylvester and Orrin had not caught his arms 
and held him. Jordan was grinning sadistically. Stepping closer, he looped 
in a swinging roundhouse right that started down near the ground and landed 
on Jay's temple. It was followed by a tattoo of hammering blows to the body 
and another left to the jaw. Jay's knees buckled. At a sign from the lawyer, 
Sylvester and Orrin released his arms and he stood teetering on rubber legs 
while the brutal giant measured his distance again and then jerked up a 
tremendous uppercut that snapped his head back and burst inside his brain 
with a crimson roar. 

This time Jay went down and stayed down. 

They dragged him up the incline and untied his hands. Then Jordan went back 
to the truck and fetched two lengths of cord which he flung over the lowest 
branch of the willow. They lashed one end of each cord around one of the 
unconscious man's wrists, and then they hauled on the other ends until his 
limp body rose into the air and hung with the feet about six inches from the 
ground. The lawyer hitched the loose ends around the trunk of another tree 
and stood back to admire his work. 

Jay was suspended by the wrists from the branch, his arms spread wide so 
that neither hand could reach the rope around the other, his head sunk on 
his bloodied chest and his battered face hidden. 

"Okay, boys," the lawyer said. "Me and Jay have some unfinished business to 
take care of here." He sauntered over to the fuck-sack and pulled out a 
whip. "I suggest you get this young kid outta here. Might see something he 
don't wanna see." 

As they left, Jordan was pinching his forefinger and thumb on Jay's chin, 
raising the lolling head so that he could slap the cheeks with his other 
hand. "Wake up, you bastard," he said genially. "Wake up for the encore!" 

The step-brother looked back over his shoulder. Jordan had stripped off his 
jacket and was swishing the short, thick bullwhip experimentally. He drew 
back his arm and brought the hide and sinew quirt whistling down across 
Jay's back with a crack like a pistol shot. 

The body suspended from the branch leaped and twisted as Jay's breath hissed 
out through his teeth. Jordan struck again, the viscous lash laying open the 
denim jacket his victim wore as though it had been cut with a knife. The 
man's head slapped back between his splayed arms and a deep groan burst from 
his throat. 

Dunwall leaned against the truck, shaking his head. He was having doubts. 
Didn't seem right somehow Jordan should be beating the young man as he was. 
Christ! It was only taking up time. 

Returning for the fuck-sack, they could hear Jay screaming and the repeated 
cracks of the bullwhip, long before they reached the clearing. 

The young man's clothes were in tatters, his gory face contorted and his 
mouth open as he bucked and jerked and twisted at the end of the cords 
suspending him cruelly from the branch. His feet brushed the ground with 
each crack of the whip. Through the rents in his jacket, shirt and pants, 
blue-red weals flecked with blood scarred his flesh. His wrists were raw and 
bleeding from the chafing of the cords. Dunwall called out from the truck, 
wanting to get back to the Olson's farm house. They had more important 
business to take care of than beating to death some punk lawyer from an 
Indian reservation. "Sonofabitch don't even make a livin', " the De Grey 
sheriff snickered. 

Jordan stopped again and glanced up at the blood-spattered scarecrow hanging 
from the weeping willow tree. "Guess you're right, sheriff." 

When Jay regained consciousness he awoke to an inferno of pain that lanced 
agonizingly through every nerve in his body. Hanging there in the sunlight, 
he listened dully to the revving up of the truck's engine as the foursome 
headed for Mona's house. It would not be long, he knew in his pain-wracked 
contortions, before Mona would fall victim to arson, the last of the insults 
the little Hitlers of De Grey, South Dakota were to level on her. 

 CHAPTER NINE 

The two employed henchmen laboriously rolled the drums along the soft earth 
carpet and left one by each deadwood stack. When the last one was in place 
they unscrewed the bung and tilted the drum on its side so that the 
inflammable liquid gurgled out and flowed down a slight slope to saturate 
the brush and soak into the ground around the neighboring wheat field. They 
repeated the process with the remaining two drums, and then they carried all 
three back to their truck. 

The two men were truckers from Pierre, friends of Jack Jordan's. When they 
had finished, they retraced their steps carrying two ordinary two-gallon 
gasoline cans from which they splashed a trail of liquid leading from the 
three gas-soaked stacks of brushwood back to the truck. The air surrounding 
the wheat fields was pungent with the stink of the fuel. 

Driving away, the older of the two men produced a book of matches from his 
pocket. "I sure as hell can't understand why anybody would want to have 
their own goddamned land burned." He shook his head and tutted. "Seems a 
downright shame to let a choice crop of wheat like this go up in smoke." 

"Ain't none of our business," said the other. "Jack Jordan, he's the one 
settled old man Olson's estate and if he says she wants it burned, we sure 
as hell ain't in no position to say no. Anyways," he added with a smirk. 
"Two hundred bucks ain't a a bad price for strikin' a match." He took a 
match from the box and struck it, shielding the small flame with his hand 
until the sliver of wood was well alight. 

The tiny flame guttered and almost died. And then, as the gas-drenched dry 
wheat flared suddenly alight, the flame snaked away into the field, 
streaming along the inflammable trail like a powder train. They lost sight 
of it before it reached the brushwood stacking near the second major splash 
of fuel. Then there was a hissing roar and the impregnated wheat caught fire 
all at once and blazed with the intensity of a grass fire. 

"She's okay now. Let's haul ass outta here!" the older trucker hissed. 

When they were half way down the dirt path adjoining the Johnson turn-off 
they stopped for a minute to look over their shoulders. Crimson and scarlet 
tongues of fire were shooting up through the golden wheat field to cast a 
ruddy glow on the underside of the smoke cloud rolling above the blaze. As 
they watched the sinister smell of burning wheat drifted across the field 
with the angry crackling roar of the fire. 

"Still can't understand why she'd want to burn her own crop," sighed one of 
the henchmen. 

"Insurance," slurred the other. "Folks'll do any thin' to get insurance 
money these days." 

* * * 

Jay was in a terrible state, weak from exhaustion and exposure, his face and 
body a mass of bruises and cuts and welts from the savage beating he had 
received, his clothes in rags and every nerve raw with pain. When he had 
gasped out his story to the combine operator who'd heard his cries and seen 
the jeep parked in the willows with the CB transistor crackling cries of 
alarm from Mona Olson who saw the fire in the fields, he said, "Don't you 
worry. That jeep'll get you back in no time flat." 

But remembering with a chill the sadistic words of Dunwall, and Jordan, Jay 
had a suspicion they might try to kidnap Mona or do worse harm. He jumped 
into the jeep, and raced down the rutted dirt road with flames streaking to 
the sides of them. Instead of taking the tire-worn path, Jay headed out 
insanely through the middle of the burning wheat fields. Mona needed help. 

* * * 

Mona Olson screamed. Lying naked on the hay with her hands bound behind her 
and her full breasts mottled purple and blue by the clawing touch of brutal 
fingers, she watched with terror-struck eyes as the huge shadow of Jack 
Jordan fell across the floor of the barn. The nightmare was just beginning. 

They had arrived in the truck four hours before. She had seen the smoke 
rising from the west quarter and had rushed to the garage near the barn to 
get on her motorcycle to make an emergency trip to town. The telephone was 
dead, the wires, she guessed, having been cut by the arsonists. In despair, 
finding the tires on the motorcycle flat, she'd run to the truck and called 
on the Citizen Band radio to Jay with no success. She was about to jump in 
the car and head for De Grey when they arrived, blocking her path with their 
truck. There had been three of them-Jordan, Dunwall and a lanky youth she 
recognized as Orrin. She'd seen him at Sylvester's station pumping gas. 
Apparently Sylvester had gone home. She could smell the liquor on their 
breath as she tried to struggle away from them, but they had forced her to 
the barn and held her a prisoner on her own property while they drank more 
and more of the whiskey that Orrin carried in his hip pocket. 

Mona had tried not to show her fear, crossing her fingers and praying for 
Jay to return. He would probably be at the reservation about now, she 
guessed, rifling through papers and preparing his case. And the fire! My 
God, the fire! The crop was destroyed, and that was financial suicide for 
her. 

Jordan had raped her first, his monstrous cock battering up into the tender 
depths of her cunt as Dunwall and the boy Orrin held her down spread-eagled 
on the hay, their eyes bright with lust and their lips wet, as they leered 
gloatingly at the pounding body of their evil boss. The sheriff and the boy 
fucked her after that, and by the time the lawyer was ready to fuck her 
again, she was too exhausted to resist anymore; she lay limp and stunned 
under his brutal assault, feeling more used and spent and humiliated than 
she ever had in her life. 

He was naked over her, his belly and ape-like chest matted with black hair, 
his huge thick cock hanging obscenely in front of his bull-sized sac of his 
testicles. Even as Mona recoiled involuntarily on the hay with a shudder of 
revulsion the grotesque rod of limp flesh stiffened and expanded in lewdly 
accelerating jerks, stretching the wrinkled skin until the shaft was 
gleaming with tautness and the bulbous mauve head burst out of the foreskin 
to point rigidly at the ceiling. 

The terrified captive girl bit her lip to choke back the cry of fear that 
sprang to her lips. She cringed back among the loose hay, her green eyes 
wide with foreboding. What further horrors lay in store for her at the hands 
of these men? 

The ruthless lawyer, her father's prior friend and trusted associate, was 
leering down at her as he seized his long thick cock in one meaty hand and 
began skimming the loose foreskin up and down the lustfully expanding shaft. 
A large drop of seminal fluid welled from the slit in the blood-engorged 
cock head and splashed wetly to the hay. "Veery nice," he said approvingly, 
his bloodshot eyes feasting lasciviously on the trembling curves of the 
naked girl's body. "I guess if s time you find out how it feels to be fucked 
by a real man." 

"You bastard," snapped Mona. "Wait 'til Jay comes back...and he will. HE 
WILL! He'll cut your balls off, you big ugly ape!" 

Jordan smiled. "Your lover is hanging from a tree, honey. Dead. D-E-A-D. 
Dead, you hear me?" 

Mona screamed, this time out of emotional pain. "I hope you die in that 
fire, you fat bastard!" 

Jordan answered by scratching his armpit with his pudgy fingers. He swung 
towards the hay, the sperm-bloated pouch of his testicles swinging heavily 
beneath the pumping hand on his cock. "Come on, you two," he shouted. "Come 
on, I got work for you to do." 

Orrin and Dunwall strolled over. They were both naked, too. The boy's long 
thin cock speared lewdly out from his mouse-colored pubic thatch and one of 
his hands plucked nervously at his wetly drooping lower lip. He'd never 
participated in anything like this, and he wasn't sure what to do. That was 
the only reason he'd consented to coming along on this joy ride of 
Jordan's-for a good piece of ass. 

The sheriffs stance was even more exaggerated without clothes, his round 
head thrust forward between his fat shoulders, his arms flapping as he 
massaged the stubby tube of his thick cock into hardness below his hairless 
belly. Mona thought with a shudder of horror that she found the two henchmen 
even more repulsive that Jordan himself. At least he acted like a man. 

Before she had time to take the thought further, the lawyer's two cohorts, 
at a signal from the black-chested ape, threw themselves on her nakedly 
defenseless body, seized her ankles, and hauled her legs savagely apart. The 
screaming redhead lay obscenely spread-eagled in abject humiliation before 
her sadistic captors, the whole red-curled length of her cuntal furrow, with 
its pinkly glistening pussy lips, still swollen and inflamed from the 
previous night's excesses with Jay, spread open to their lewd gaze. 

Trembling with terror, she stared wild-eyed from face to pitiless face as 
Jordan and his cronies leered salaciously at the quivering white mounds of 
her breasts, the softly trembling bulge of her young belly, and the russet 
triangle of curling pussy hair nestled between her obscenely splayed legs. 
Dear God, there was nothing she could do against throe of them...not even 
against one of them! She had no idea whether someone would see the fire in 
time to save the fields, or if all was lost. And Jay...my God, dear Jay! 
Dead? Somehow she couldn't, refused to believe it. Somehow he would save 
her. He had to! 

For the moment, imprisoned in her own barn, she was utterly alone and at the 
mercy of Jordan and his cohorts. The only victory she could hope for was a 
mental one; they could conquer her body again as she knew they must; but it 
would be an empty triumph if her spirit remained unbroken. 

But the fact that troubled her most-a fact that she strove unsuccessfully to 
put from her conscious mind-was the realization that she had responded with 
climax after climax to the cruelness of Jordan's hand only hours before. 

* * * 

Jay shifted into first gear, wincing with pain as the lever of the bucking 
jeep shook his damaged wrist, and the seatbelt intensified the pain in his 
whip-lacerated shoulders. Beyond the rampant red-tinged smoke to his left, 
the sky was overcast with sulfurous haze. The heat and stench of burning 
wheat, like the pungent smell of freshly baked bread, was all around him. 

The jeep's wheels were bouncing over the uneven floor of the wheat field, 
the motor laboring as he pressed the tough jeep to its limit in his 
desperate efforts to regain the farm buildings before the fire consumed it 
all. His rescuer had since headed back around the other route to alert the 
fire department. 

The jeep ran suddenly into an open space where an arm of fire had already 
reached into the last ten acres of wheat this side of the chicken coop. Jay 
drove past blackened earth; what once waved ripely in the wind over the 
prairie now was only a dirty, smoky useless piece of ground. The spinning 
wheels raising clouds of choking dust from the still-smoking ground. 

Jay could feel the blast of hot air on his sweating face. The fire was 
making a noise like a storm. Enormous and fierce and red, it swept over the 
prairie, all consuming. Swearing, Jay wrenched the wheel of the jeep tight 
and drove like a pilot committing hara-kiri. Sparks and embers floated 
through the air like butterflies on the wing, crusting his face with their 
carbon ashes. Birds, prairie dogs, and everything living and subsisting off 
the wheat fields scattered in his path in terror. 

* * * 

Mona gasped aloud as Jordan leaned over her, pawing at the soft flesh of her 
belly with his hard hands. "Okay, bitch," he warned. "It's up to you now. 
We're all gonna fuck'ya no matter what. If you want to let yourself go and 
have a good time, it might be easier on 'ya." His hands moved lewdly 
upwards, caressing the fullness of her firmly swelling breasts, rolling the 
tight rubbery nipples between his fingers. 

The captive redhead felt her skin crawl with horror as she strove 
desperately to find words that might appeal to whatever sense of honor or 
decency one or the other of her captors might possess. She found none: the 
three men gloating above her were a-like in their brutish concentration on 
the satisfaction of their animal lust. She froze in terror as Jordan's 
fingers raked teasingly down the trembling contours of her body to linger 
with dreadful familiarity among the silky hairs sparsely mantling her pubic 
mound. "Come on, boys," gestured Jordan. "Get her ready." 

The two men released her legs and leaped into action. Dunwall clambered down 
into the molding hay and straddled the helpless girl's naked chest, his bony 
thighs gripping her bound arms, her heaving breasts squashed beneath his 
buttocks and the sperm-packed pouch of his balls resting in the deep cleft 
between her straining mounds. Orrin sat astride her belly, forcing her knees 
cruelly apart with his hands as he leaned acrobatically downwards to lace 
his slobbering tongue snake-like into the moistly quivering slit of her 
cunt. 

Mona jerked convulsively under their constricting weight, a whimpering moan 
escaping from deep in her throat. Her buttocks ground down hard into the 
hay, seeking to escape the maddening oral assault of the pimply faced boy. 
She shivered uncontrollably as Orrin drew the tiny bud of her clitoris wetly 
up into his hot mouth with a liquid suck and began gently nibbling at the 
sensitive little shaft. 

"Ah! aaagghhh! no . . , . please...please...ahhh!" 

This can't be happening to me! It can't! the cruelly pinioned girl groaned 
to herself as the youth's face rocked in greedy feast between her legs and 
his swollen tongue fucked in and out of her involuntarily dilating cunt. Yet 
in spite of her terror and revulsion at the depraved attack on her loin., 
tiny wisps of forbidden pleasure were already beginning to purl deep in the 
violated redhead's belly...and on her firm young breasts, crushed as they 
were beneath Dunwall's ass cheeks, the nipples had already spiked out taut 
and erect! 

She gasped aloud as the flames of sensation tearing out of control through 
her loins blazed higher and higher...dear God, she must fight this enemy 
from within with all her strength! She must not succumb to the betrayal of 
her own body! 

But suddenly the slavering pimply-faced boy's experienced tongue arrowed 
forward, burrowing far up into her now wetly straining cunt to send waves of 
carnal fire spiraling crazily up into her spine to the base of her skull. 
like Fourth of July rockets, they burst there into showers of stars, 
scattering pinpoints of desire all over her cruelly stretched body. Fire was 
replacing fear as the practiced lips and tongue of her ravisher, young and 
experimental though they might be, plundered her erotically quivering pussy. 
Her mind reeled with shock. What was happening to her? Oh God! She had never 
felt so wantonly abandoned in her life! 

Spontaneously, under the teasing ministrations of the lapping tongue in her 
cunt, she had come erotically alive! Her nakedly rounded ass cheeks arched 
convulsively up off the hay, frantically trying to squelch the searing 
lashes of lustful flame destroying all her reservations and all her 
inhibitions! 

She opened her mouth to groan aloud...and choked back a gasp of alarm. 
Dunwall, who had been watching her contorted features with a grimace of 
lustful glee, had nosed the huge rubbery tip of his thick, hotly throbbing 
cock in between her wetly parted lips! 

Almost without realizing it, without wanting too-but not being able to help 
herself-Mona began automatically to suck and nibble on the iron hard shaft 
whose moistly seeping tip was invading the scalding cavern of her mouth. God 
Almighty-her desire-crazed mind moaned-instead of recoiling in disgust at 
the debased and unnatural intrusion of the sheriffs thick veined rod of 
flesh between her trembling lips, she was actually welcoming it! The 
flickers of lust were dancing with ever-increasing fury about the shuddering 
pink edges of her seething cunt! A tongue in her cunt and a cock in her 
mouth were no longer enough; she wanted something more; she had to have it! 

The wish was granted almost as soon as it had formed in her mind. 

Orrin withdrew his tongue from her cunt and sprang aside with youthful 
agility. Grasping her flailing legs, he bent them savagely back towards her 
head so that the man whose cock was filling her gagging mouth could clamp 
them under his arms. She was bent double on the hay, jack-knifed in abject 
humiliation, her arms bound and her legs pinioned by the odious sheriff 
whose hotly throbbing cock was fucking in and out of her distended lips, the 
whole stretched plane of her genitals defenselessly upturned beneath the 
leering gaze of Orrin and the fat lawyer. 

"All right, boy, we ain't got much time. That fire's gonna be sweepin' the 
side of the house in ten minutes, so get in there and fuck!" 

The lewdly excited boy jumped astride the helpless redhead's bent-back 
thighs. Then, guiding the plank-stiff shaft of his long thin cock downwards 
with his forefinger and thumb, he plunged the lust-swollen head straight in 
between the inflamed and desire-moistened lips of Mona's cunt. 

"Ummmmm . . . " Mona muttered through her cock-stuffed mouth. 

The nakedly doubled girl bucked and squirmed in unwanted ecstasy as the 
raping rod of flesh speared up into the tight hot passage of her hungrily 
clasping pussy. Her ovaled lips opened around the thick shaft of Dunwall's 
cock plowing rigidly into her mouth as she mewled again and again in wanton 
delight. 

And then she felt herself being manhandled sideways so that her naked 
buttocks faced outward from the flesh piercing hay that poked into her 
tender flesh like a million needles. 

Suddenly she screeched...half in agony half in lustful passion, for the 
giant Jordan had kneeled up on the hay facing the youth on the other side of 
her loins. Now, with the steely shaft of his massively pulsating cock 
clutched in one huge hand, he was fucking the hard acorned head brutally up 
against the tight hairless opening of Mona's puckering little anus . . . . 

* * * 

Jay wrenched the wheel of the jeep to avoid the ditch in the field, created 
by the irrigation run-off. A dull thud jarred him for a moment until he 
realized he'd run over a small animal. He winced, hating the sensation of 
killing anything, then continued on. Mona needed him. 

The fire was terrible in intensity-a wall of orange and crimson clawing 
across the field insatiably with an appetite not to be denied. Jay could see 
its pulsating red glow through the trunks of the trees on this side of the 
barn. He squinted his eyes and looked. My God! The arsonists had missed 
their mark! The fire would reach the barn before the house, so perhaps he 
still had a chance to save it if the fire department got there in time. 

The heat was insupportable-a lung-choking assault that tightened like an 
iron band around his chest and drew the sweat streaming from every pore in 
his body. The metal bodywork of the new jeep seared his lacerated skin and 
the wheel scorched his hands. He drove grimly on, hoping the flat hood 
provided enough protection to stop the gasoline vaporizing in the carburetor 
and bringing him to a standstill. 

Despite the suffocating heat that was blistering his throat and lungs, a 
cold chill ran the length of Jay's spine. 

Gritting his teeth, he sent the jeep bouncing and careening along the 
self-made path. As the fire closed relentlessly in on either side, the 
trembling smoke-filled air darkened. He was blinded by the furnace glare on 
either side of the jeep. The heat hammered him into the scorching leather 
scat that smelled like a burning animal, stopping his heart in his 
chest...and then, he saw something that made him accelerate. Through the 
haze of smoke and butterfly embers, he spied a truck in the drive. The same 
truck he'd seen near the clearing! Jordan and his boys had Mona! 

* * * 

With the whole of her loins exposed nakedly, shamelessly distended and 
pulled back towards her chest, Mona's tightly clenched anus could not for 
long withstand the flesh-splitting pressure of Jordan's rock hard cock. The 
clasping rubbery folds suddenly gave way, and she screamed again as the 
sperm-bloated head of the lawyer's sodomizing cock speared far up into the 
scalding buttery depths of her vise-like rectum. 

Grunting with lustful fury, the giant men began fucking viciously in and out 
of her painfully stretched anus while Dunwall undulated his hips so that the 
rigidly glistening shaft stuffing her mouth fucked in and out between the 
violated redhead's widely ovaled lips. Saliva and pre-ejaculate ran in a 
cloudy rivulet from both corners of her hungrily sucking mouth. At the same 
time, Orrin, rising and falling in invisible stirrups, plowed the long hard 
length of his ferociously up and down into the greedily clasping passage of 
her cunt. 

The helplessly pinioned girl was being mercilessly fucked from three 
different directions at once! Every opening in her wantonly squirming body 
was filled with cock! There was cock in her mouth, cock in her anus, and 
cock in her seething cunt! The whole world was stuffed with hotly throbbing, 
rigidly expanding, wetly seeping, beautiful cock! BEAUTIFUL COCK! And she 
loved it...hated the monsters doing this to her and making her respond 
against her will...but loving their cocks. She moaned and mewled in lewd 
delight as her wantonly squirming body was buffeted by them. 

As the three men bucked and plunged and sawed and thrust, gasping hoarsely 
with animal lust as they bounced her nakedly contorted body between them 
like a rag doll. Mona sensed the quivering muscles of Jordan and his two 
brutal companions tense and shudder. Thrashing wildly under the weight of 
their laboring, sweating bodies, she groaned her wanton ecstasy past the 
gagging bulk of the raping cock invading her mouth as her orgasm 
suddenly-and overwhelmingly seized her-sweeping her up off the hay in a 
storm of quaking, shuddering erotic fury that sent her spinning among the 
stars. She was cumming...cumming. CCCUUUMMMIIINNNGGG! Oh God! Never let it 
stop! 

At the same time, the expanding cock in her lewdly sucking mouth bulged and 
heaved, squirting a hot and acrid stream of semen far back into her gasping 
throat...and the two cocks pistoning into her plundered loins shuddered, 
jerked, and then spewed their white-hot loads of heated jism in powerful 
jetting spurts against the obscenely milking walls of her rectum and cunt. 

For a long time as the three men lay collapsed and satiated over her, Mona 
drifted in a sensual, erotic daze, wondering why, despite her horror and 
revulsion at the unspeakable and degrading ravishments she had suffered, 
despite the shame and humiliation and distress, her body had nevertheless 
responded in a way that both astonished and dismayed her. Why should she so 
wantonly react to the brutal assaults of Jack Jordan whom she loathed and 
detested?...the very man who'd been one of her father's most trusted 
friends! Why should she have welcomed even his repulsive cronies once the 
fires of her carnal lust had been kindled? Could it be simply that her own 
tempestuous, autocratic nature demanded a partner strong enough to subjugate 
that nature to his own demands? And was that why even at the extremity of 
her humiliation, it was Jay's face she had longed to see above her violated 
body? 

It was only when Jordan hauled her roughly to her feet and untied her aching 
wrists that she realized the barn was filled with the stench of burning wood 
and hay. 

* * * 

The jeep gave one final lurch before a snapping pop brought it to a halt. 
The insatiable fire had pierced the tire. Without touching the burning hot 
iron of the jeep's body, he stood on the seat and painfully jumped out, 
twisting his head to make certain the wall of flames would not beat him in 
the match towards the farm buildings, for the prairie winds had struck 
another match. The fire now had a partner. 

The original fire had headed directly toward the house, as planned, but with 
the stormy winds rising from the east, it had split the flames in half, 
creating a clear path like the eye of a tornado. 

Jay's legs, the victim's of Jordan's whip, stung with pain as limped toward 
the barn. His blistered hand supported his lacerated right leg, like a 
wooden cane. Dragging, half running, he felt a burst inside his chest and 
then all was black. Somewhere in the back of his consciousness he heard a 
loud wailing sound; he judged it to be another lash of Jordan's whip. Had he 
known it was .the fire department's truck grinding to a whistled halt, his 
tortured mind might have rested more peacefully. 

 CHAPTER TEN 

"Everything's going to be all right," whispered Mona, tears blurring her 
green eyes that under the hellish stress of the past twenty four hours had 
dulled from their luminous hue to a deeper, more serious gray. Stroking 
Jay's hand, she rested her swollen cheek on his arm. 

With a wince, he reached down to stroke her baby-soft red tresses. "Yeah, it 
is," he struggled to whisper through the bandages mummying his head. "Ya 
know, baby. I've been think," he hoarsely managed. "You're a pretty well off 
young...lady." 

The white capped nurse smiled down as she adjusted the flow of the 
intravenous feeding tube, then quietly left the room, after asking him if he 
needed another pain shot. 

Jay shook his head, then turned his attention back to Mona. "You've got five 
hundred grand stashed in the basement of your house, plus insurance money.. 
. . " 

"But the crop," sighed Mona. "It's gone, and it had promises of being a 
bumper one, too. Daddy would have been proud. Haven't had a crop like that 
since grandpa. . . . " 

Jay smiled and nodded. "Where do you think that money came from?" 

Her eyes lit up. "You mean that's where that money came from? Gosh, I guess 
there is a future in farming after all!" 

With a kleenex, Mona dabbed at a trickle of blood that spotted Jay's 
blistered lips. 

He caught her hand. "Now like I was saying, you're pretty well off. You know 
that piece of land you always wanted for a house? Well...I'm gonna call in 
the contractors soon as I'm back in shape." 

"But Jay . . . " Mona tutted. "Where is a volunteer lawyer for an Indian 
reservation going to get that kind of money? Don't let those pain shots go 
to your head, darling." She snickered, then looked up at him with curious 
eyes. "You never did tell me your last name. . . . " 

"Reason for that. Had too many women try to soak me for my money, honey," he 
managed. "Want to know what your last name is going to be?" 

The redheaded wheat farmer sat up erect, slack-jawed. "You mean...you're . . 
. " 

"That's right, honey. Time we got married. We've been livin' in sin too 
long. Gentry. That sound good to you? Mona Gentry. . . . " 

Mona's mind clicked. Gentry...Boston...high society. Stifling a giggle, she 
shook her head. "No, you can't be...the Jay Gentry? Heir to the airline 
industry that. . . . " 

"That's right. Now if you don't like the name, we can always let you keep 
yours. I know you're no easy woman to domesticate...fern lib and all that. . 
. . " 

"Mmmmmm," Mona leaned on her elbow, toying with a loose thread on his 
hospital gown. "Maybe I'll do that. I think it would fit my nature." 

Jay pulled her close with his bandaged hand and kissed her on the forehead, 
trying not to wince with pain. "Damned redheads." 

Mona stayed at his side that night and in the morning she drove to the 
police department in 

Pierre to make a written statement. 

The unlucky threesome had been arrested and thrown in jail in Pierre. Orrin, 
being a minor, was released under his parents' auspices, and Sylvester was 
never arrested, having committed no crime. But Dunwall and Jordan faced 
prison terms on several counts: rape, arson, assault, trespassing-not to 
mention forging government documents from the Indian reservation. 


THE END
