Coyotes & Curves (2 page)

She awakens to a blood red sun setting behind the spiraling sand cliffs looming on the horizon. Several clouds cover the sky with a fiery blend of colors, telling her the day is gone and the hour is late; inviting her to return home.

Looking down at her body she sees nothing but her own nakedness –
My breasts are not larger,
she thinks, running her hands over the – already overly sized orbs – her nipples are erect, but,
there’s no change at all.
Not knowing, Little Deer expected her breasts to be larger and longer; like her mother and grandmother’s.

Not only had she not seen Sogwili Wa’toli, she had not been touched, and her body had not changed, not at all.
Am I not a woman, now? Am I to be barren?
She had been told that she would be visited by Sogwili and he would make her fertile.

Jumping up to feet with the realization she had been untouched, she begins walking swiftly down the river’s bank sifting through the hanging branches as she moves. A sickness fills the pit of her stomach. Why had she not been visited? All of her girlfriends had been visited when it was their time to become woman – Several willow trees line the shore of the river and she hastily pushes them out of her way, and with tears streaming down her face, she begins to run.

“No Sogwili! No Sogwili!” the young girl screams.
Some girls will not be chosen; and will remain barren their whole lives –
She remembers her grandmother’s words, and crying louder she fights on; with the hanging trees becoming thicker forcing her away from the river and into a clearing, perched along its banks where she stops in her tracks, confronted by a man – a naked man, pleasuring himself as he lie in the grass.

A few yards away, a white mare digs roughly at the ground with an arched hoof – Her full mane flailing in the air as she shakes her head, while snorting loudly. A black eye watches from a tilted head, as the naked young maiden enters within the grassy harem.

The girl enters the clearing, and startled, her arms drop quickly in an effort to conceal her naked body – but it’s to no avail – He sees her loveliness and his penis grows rapidly; endowed by the insatiable desires implanted within by Mother Earth. A great throbbing engulfs the giant phallus, and a renewed vigor, has him wrapping two strong hands about the veiny shaft, and stroking up and down.

“Oh great mother,” the girl whispers, and her hands move thoughtlessly from her sides to cover the moistened tenderness, with craving desires blushing between her legs. Her eyes are fixated on the giant member of the handsome man as his fingers massage and pull upon the cock. His testicles hang low and his legs are spread wide, exposing a muscular rump covered in a fine layer of dark curly hairs that spread up from below. Such a man – his body extremely tanned, muscular, and hard; moving in ways she has never seen. Up and down his hips thrust slowly into the air, inviting her to watch. His mouth, slightly ajar, with his tongue running along the underside of his upper lip; signaling his pleasure –
Watch me as I play

He wants the young maiden badly! – His Stallion – rearing onto its haunches, forcefully thrusting the enormous upward curving cock, wildly into the air.

His white mare whinnies loudly, rearing up to meet him in the air, however coming down quickly to his fast reply of rebellious snorts and positioning of control. The mare backs into the bushes, disappearing from sight –a young white woman with curly blonde hair, returns – her own nakedness matching the beauty of the girl, and she walks over to her taking her by the hand. “Do not be afraid; I will guide you.” She smiles and walks behind Little Deer, standing ever so close. Hard nipples brush along the middle of her back as the woman presses against her from behind, and she feels the roughness that protrudes from the woman’s crotch as she’s grinded from below – The woman’s mare, mounting from behind. “Let me show you,” she offers, reaching around and interlacing her fingers with the girl’s hands, covering her mound, where she begins to rub softly… “Watch him,” she whispers in her ear, as her fingers softly find her clit – Little Deer, sighs, and she’s already released. Her knees are weak, but the woman holds her up from behind, her hands moving more vigorously, now within her crotch.

He’s just a man
– Little Deer, blinks her eyes, shaking her head as she watches.

The man stands, moving closer with his throbbing cock in hand. His hair is long and dark, matching his skin, and it flows in the wind as he moves. His thighs are strong and thick and they carry him closer as he works upon the rigid shaft, moaning and whispering as moves – her heart races inside of her chest. Will he penetrate me with, it? “No Sogwili! No!” she pleads, realizing he’s too big. But the woman behind , holds her still, rubbing harder on her clit – closer he moves, bringing the pulsating head to the opening of her cunny; where the woman pulls open her lips, exposing the young Indian girl’s pink tenderness within.

The head of Sogwili’s cock is easily two times as wide as the girl’s swollen mound, when he places it firmly over the top, and begins thrusting his hip – masturbating the girl into multiple orgasms with every thrusting of his incredible length.

“He tried to penetrate me, grandma,” Little Deer sobbed. He had tried, but the struggling of the young girl and help from the white mare, prevented him from doing so, until he could be calmed down enough to think clearly.

“This was Sogwili, giving you, your Lust. We all are given, some more than others,” she assures, with a smile through squinted eyes on her brown wrinkled face. But why, the wise old woman ponders – Why would he try to make love to her… Could she be the chosen one? No, she couldn’t be; he would have given her some kind of message or vision for the people.

“I don’t want his lust! I just want to be left alone,” she cries, smothering her face into the soft pile of fox and minx furs.

“There, there,” Grandmother, soothes, stroking at the raven colored hair of the girl; who looks up slowly, tears streaming from her reddened eyes.

‘A sickness is coming upon the land, brought by those who seek to destroy all human life Beware, they come for you.’
Sogwili Wa’toli’s words echo in her head as she lays back into the furs; slowly falling asleep in her grandmother’s warm arms.

The Town Rock Ridge

One main street – that’s all there is in the small mining town of Rock Ridge – and it’s empty at the present time; with the late afternoon temperature still hovering in the high nighties. Most people hide from the mid-day sweltering sun; preferring a more comfortable time to move about. Like that of the early morning or late afternoon and evening—the latter reserved for the rougher side of humanity…and animal, alike.

Currently the street is deserted, and a small dust devil dances in a circle, while several tumbleweeds blow across the dry ruts; that have formed in the mud after last week’s torrential down pours.

Some animals like the rain, but not a Coyote; and especially not Red Granger, who sits on a chair in front of the small building serving as his office and the local jail.

Red’s hat is tilted over his eyes and his chair leaned back. He’s trying to get a little shuteye, before the arrival of Major Kearney and his troop of Cavalrymen, due in from Ft. Ronson—located thirty miles away.

The Sherriff arrived a few hours earlier, returning from his trip up North; where he checked on the activities of the local Indian bands; that have been moving down from the mountains onto their summer hunting grounds. He hated having to leave the comforts of his little town; especially to go check on Natives – He hates them.

Texas Red, as he’s known – being that he migrated up from south Texas years ago – loves living his human life. What’s not to love? No having to forage all day for food, mating whenever you chose, and not having to sleep on the hard ground inside of a cold lair. – Although, he did miss a good root around on the ground; with the smell of fresh soil and it’s billions of little smells to entice and tickle his senses. He’d managed to take care of that little problem, by having the Boys dig out a root cellar for him underneath the cells located inside of his office. Sometimes he’d come up from below, tucking in his shirt and brushing the dirt from his hair after a nice roll. One might think he looked like he just had sex in the dirt with some crazy Mexicali whore come up from south of the Rio Pecos – rumor has it those woman will do it right in the dirt like an animal – Is there any other way?

But what he doesn’t like is native Indians; especially non shifters – like the ones who tried stoning him to death; when he was just a cub. Red’s life started out as an abandoned shifter cub after both of his parents were murdered by the Calvary. He was forced to learn his way on his own – Living both with the Indians and the whites, and among roaming bands of Coyotes that would allow him sanctuary; until finding out he was part human at which time he was asked to leave.

Once grown, Red moved north where he found a new life and an easier way to live; earning a living as a Sherriff in one of the several towns called Hell on Wheels – these were mostly tiny lawless camps springing up alongside of the railroads, serving the fast growing populations of miners coming west in search of gold and silver. He settled in Rock Ridge, where one by one, he put together his motley crew of shifter deputies, and took over the town. No one challenged him… until Major Kearney and the Cavalry came along.

When Kearney first took over at Fort Ronson he established him dominance over the town, immediately challenging Red’s authority by acquisitioning town supplies – Sold by the same proprietors that Red frequently tax – leading to a private standoff between the two men, that lasted over two hours – leaving Red with a three clawed scar accenting his already ruggedly handsome face… and a deep hatred for the ageing badger Major. He could have pulled his six-shooter and shot him dead; being the faster draw of the two, having made his way up to the territory after spending time in some of the roughest cow towns west of the Missouri. If he had, he wouldn’t be here today, because the Cavalry would have strung him up before the smoke had cleared from the barrel of his gun. And if they hadn’t, there’d still be Kearny’s loyal followers to attend to; and with the odds at ten to one, he wouldn’t have stood a chance. No,
revenge is a dessert better served cold
.

Red’s napping is interrupted by the hollowed pounding of trotting beasts, as four mounted riders enter the far end of town, riding abreast of each other taking up the entire width of the street. If there was anyone on the wooden boardwalks, they had disappeared quickly – slipping into the feed store, or behind a wagon – anywhere they could, stirring clear of the Motley crew.

Three of the men, Red, recognizes immediately as his deputies – Danny Miller, Bob Jacob, or ‘Old Bob’ –as most of the crew refers to him; being that he moves and acts like a man forty years his senior—and Red’s number one, Jasper Wallace who rides next to a stranger dressed in a dust covered long coat. Jasper has been with Red for a couple of years now. They met in small roaming band of Coyote, just north of the Kansas border, before the big Gold strike hit up north. The whole band was shifter, and they worked well together, all making a good living off of the multitudes of humans traveling west on the Oregon and Santa Fe trails. That was before the old shifters from out east, got wise, and started hiring changelings bands to help guide and protect; leaving the apples, not falling so close to the tree for Red and his crew– leading to the band breaking up and going their separate ways. Jasper, originated from the same region of Texas as Red, and had proved to be loyal friend, and subject to the Alpha male and the two led off together.

After landing in Rock Ridge – at a time when the town was overrun with wild cat miners, quick to shoot you dead, cowboys, and droves hustlers and swindlers looking to relieve both of their hard earn pay – Red signed up as the local sheriff and rest is history. He pinned a badge on Jasper and set about whipping the town into shape. He started with the cowboys, taking all of their guns as soon as they entered town; cutting down on the everyday violence, while giving himself and his crew an overwhelming edge. Anyone who disobeyed got the beating of a lifetime and told to never return to town; or they just simply disappeared… and Red and Jasper dined on fresh kill that night. The miners were another thing all together –
Unless they have money, they are simply food
– Rough and sinewy yes, but food all the same. And easier, than chasing down a fleet footed rabbit in the middle of the night; Shifters, being unable to hunt around town during the day, for fear of being seen.

Danny and Bob had joined with Red and Jasper after arriving in town as drovers from Texas. They were hell bent and causing a ruckus when first confronted by the Shifter Sheriff and his Deputy Beta. A brawl broke out that ended behind the stables, when the two Coyotes were both held subject to Red in a fierce battle that had him nearly even killing Jasper in his bloody rage. Red’s one tough dude, no matter what form he’s in.

The Sherriff sniffs the air and catches the scent of blood coming from his men; and nothing but sweat and dirt coming from the stranger. Another deep inhale, tells Red … He’s shifter.

The stranger’s hat is a flat brim with a low crown; it’s tilted down, shading his eyes from the sun and covering his face; hiding it from view. His white shirt is stained dark from the trail, and its wrinkled length is tucked into the worn chaps that cover his trousers underneath. A six-shooter hangs strapped to his waist, and Red senses, the man knows how to use it.
Should I kill him now?

“Who the hell is he?” His animal is near the surface and his voice comes with a slight growl; signally to the stranger he knows he’s a changeling.

The four men halted in front of the Sherriff’s office; where their horses continued snorting and shuffling. They were held about under tight rains— keeping them in place as the cowboys dismounted.

Jasper is first, his long body climbing down with his face showing hatred for the saddle. He kicks the toe of boot on the wooden boardwalk, knocking off a chunk of horse shit that drops to ground; while he wraps his reins to the hitching post that separates him from his cold hearted, calculated leader; sitting eyeing the crew watchfully. Jasper would prefer to make long travels with his Coyote, but Red forbids anyone to use their shifter form, unless totally alone… and only then with approval. “Picked him up along the way back,” Jasper answers quickly, making Red’s questioning seemingly less intense.
The stranger knows better,
everyone present knows better – the good-looking, light haired Sherriff is a stone cold killer.

It’s Texas Red Granger; and he won’t be easily fooled.
Without looking up, the stranger slaps his rains over the cross pole – it circles twice, before hanging to the ground; leaving the horse firmly secured. Ducking under the pole, he moves towards Red, stepping onto the porch and extending his ruggedly huge paw. “I’m Jacob… You can call me Jake.”

There’s a short pause as the two men exchange pleasantries; neither being rude or trying to disrespect the other. Red is the leader here and Jake knows it, showing a slight –very slight – display of subservience by allowing Red to crowd him closer than most, as he rubs against his side – running a long snout throughout his dusty coat. Red can smell the stranger well enough without having to stick his nose up the man’s ass in broad day light –and both men forgo the archaic display.

“Where do hale from?” Granger asks, as Jake backs away a safe distance, before taking a seat on the porch – his back against a post holding up the slanted roof shading the area from sun. Red watches as the man produce a small carving knife from one pocket of his duster and a little piece of wood from the other, and begins to carve – Testing Red’s patience.

“Indian Territories.” His answer is firm and true.

“You native?”

“Half,” he answers. The stranger senses hatred in the old Coyote’s voice. Jake knows Red Granger, or rather of him. His story isn’t unfamiliar in the world of changelings, but he
has
seen more than his share of troubles; and made quite a name for himself dealing with his lot.

A half breed, half breed… like me...
Red ponders, staring at the man as the rest of the pack watches anxiously.
No,
I won’t kill him – not yet, anyway.
He might be able to use a man like that. “Come on, let’s get outta this heat,” he commands, removing his hat and slicking back his thick blonde hair - looking in the sky. The silver streaks shine in the sun, showing his age and wisdom.

Red is older than the other men, but he moves just as agile and with the mode of strength and air of confidence of a man twenty years his junior – that’s in his human form; as a Coyote, he is an Alpha Beast, with none his equal – leaving many in his world wondering why he prefers to use the form of an older attractive male.
A leader should be older and distinguished; not some inexperienced looking pup
.
I bet in the Twilight years to come, we’ll have two thousand year old men gallivanting around as teenage wolves.
Red’s outlook on things rarely parallel, those of the general public. You never really know what he’s thinking, or how he’ll react; his quiet anger, keeping all on edge. All, but Kearney – who should be arriving anytime – and Granger better have some results for him.

“Hurry up and git in here and close the damn door!” Red yells, impatiently.

The last of his men hurries in, slamming the door quickly behind them, eliciting another disdainful look from Red, who sits shaking his head in disgust; having already made himself comfortable in the new rocking chair – a gift, recently given to him by the buxom Miss Jessica Lily – the Red Star Hotel & Saloon’s, most lovely girl; and someone who’s been on Red’s mind all week. The thought of her making the bulge inside of his pants swell; and the hair on the back of his neck stands up as he pants deeply; all helping to calm him down, and lessening his desire to nip at Bob for being such a simpleton.

“Jesus, Bob… Just sit down.” He finishes his sentence with a roll of his eyes, and relents from further abuse; watching Bob limp across the room.

The old man makes his way to a leather sashed pine chair; that creaks heavily under the weight of the potbellied scruff as he drops into place. He’s old and knows his days are numbered. His face winces in pain when he lifts his leg, repositioning it to make it comfortable.

“What’d you do to your leg?” Red questions, seeing the man’s obvious pain; and crimson coloring streaking down the side of his leather trousers mixed with sweating stains and caked mud.

“Nothing, that won’t be healed soon enough.

“Done got himself shot; is what the dern fool went and did, Red,” Danny, the youngest of the men, confesses in an attempt to clear his name by being the first to announce the blundering move. He doesn’t want Red coming down on him for the old turd’s mistake – which was an obvious breaking of one of Red’s cardinal rules.

A growl exits the Sheriffs body “What do mean?” He slowly turns to Bob; who in turn curses the younger man.

“God damn you, Danny! I told you to keep yer damn mouth shut… I was gonna tell ya, Red,” he confesses earnestly. “Honest – I just needed to sit down and rest a spell first.” There’s a long pause and the room is silent for what seems like an eternity. “Dern it, Red. Don’t look at me like that.” The man pleads, under his Bosses heavy gaze.

“Ah shut up! … I told you
all
– you were going to wind up getting yourselves shot to pieces by them miners if you started running around as coyotes… didn’t I!” he exclaims, knowing exactly what happened. “They’re not like the Redskins – if they see a wild animal, they’re going to shoot it! And those men can shoot. How many times do I have to tell you idiots?” He finishes, exasperated by the many futile attempts at teach the ailing pack of
Canis latrans
how to survive amongst the humans. Not everyone can control their beast within – You have to be stronger; or it will take over.