The Woman Wasn’t a Lady

March Round-up Challenge

By jfclover

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Most of the time, Hoss and I made the supply run together, but my brother rode down to Carson to buy a horse, and Adam was in San Francisco finishing up a timber contract.  I was on my own, which left my father and me to run the ranch without their help.  I couldn’t stay in town forever.  Normally, Hoss and I would hang out at the saloon for a while, drink a few beers, and maybe play a hand of cards, but it was just me and Pa this week.  I needed to get the mail, get Hop Sing’s supplies, and get my butt home, but life often takes a man in a different direction.

When the most beautiful woman who’d ever graced our fair city walked out of the mercantile and headed up the boardwalk, I hoped Pa wouldn’t mind if I took a minute or two to introduce myself.  Seeing her auburn curls bounce against her blue traveling suit was a gift I enjoyed, but did she realize how men would react to the rhythm and haste of her stride as she headed for the hotel?

She struck me as a woman who didn’t put up with much.  A no-nonsense gal who held her head high and walked as though she owned the town.  What kind of woman does that?  She was a stranger, nowhere close to a native.  Where had she come from?  What was her business in Virginia City?

I hurried across the street and met up with her on the boardwalk just this side of the International House.  She carried a carpetbag, and after tipping my hat and offering my services, she handed me her belongings.

“I’m Joe Cartwright, Ma’am.”

“Nice to meet you, Joe Cartwright.  What did you have in mind?”

I didn’t dare say what was on my mind but offered to buy her lunch instead.

“Lunch?”

“The hotel restaurant serves a decent meal.”

“I’d be delighted, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Call me Joe.”

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The feel of her lily-white thigh next to mine was a heavenly experience.  Lunch had given way to a trip up the stairs to her room, #27.  Though it was the last thing I planned when I drove into town for supplies, I was thrilled that both of my brothers were out of town on business and that the afternoon had turned into an unplanned event with the auburn-haired stranger.

She wouldn’t tell me her name.  As much as I tried to coax it out of her, she wouldn’t budge. At the time, I didn’t understand.  If a woman lets a man come up to her room, she must be after something.  At least, that’s what my father told me a few years back when we had “the talk.”  He was nervous over what words to use and kept getting off track.

“Women are a strange breed, Joseph.  Some women want to settle down, get married, and have children, and there are others who demand money for services rendered.  Do you understand what I mean?”

“Yessir.”

I didn’t fare any better than my father.  I couldn’t look him in the eye when he started in on the physical aspect that he called “the marriage bed.”  He didn’t know that I’d already had “the talk” with Adam, but whatever Pa said, the man-to-man discussions were almost more than I could bear. 

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She didn’t demand money up front like a saloon whore would, so I had to figure she appreciated my look, or my voice, or maybe this was payment for lunch, which I never intended but was a notable bonus.  When my hand wandered between her legs, she eased her right thigh up off the sheets to allow me access to tease and excite.  Moments later, I straddled her hips and lowered my mouth over her left breast.  With my hands palmed to the bed on either side, I worked my tongue around her left nipple, and when her body reacted and her back arched up off the bed, I circled that same firm nipple until her body let me know it was time to go again.  Soon after, as we lay side-by-side, I remembered another time, another place.

It wasn’t Pa, and it wasn’t Adam who taught me the art of lovemaking.  And though I won’t mention names, my Southern Belle was a real lady.  If every young man had an experience like I had, then every young man would be set for life.  At seventeen, I was handed a rare gift: a woman who excelled in every carnal activity that mattered. 

While lying next to a beautiful girl, I shouldn’t be thinking about another woman who brought an unsophisticated cowboy like me to her bed.  Either woman could’ve had anyone in town, but they both chose me.  I was grateful, and I rolled up on one elbow and stared into those bright, blue eyes.

“Tomorrow,” I said.

“What about tomorrow?”

“Can I see you tomorrow?”

“That wouldn’t be wise.”

Did I do something wrong?  Was I too young?  Too inexperienced?  Too much of a cowboy?  And though it might have been a stupid question, I had to know her reason.  “Why not?”

“Because my husband will be coming to town on tomorrow’s stage.”

My heart nearly burst through my chest.  Her words were so matter-of-fact that my choice was obvious. I slipped out of bed, dressed, and stared down at the woman who’d offered herself to me like a common whore.

“I don’t know what your game is, Lady, but this isn’t right.”

Lying on her side, she cupped her breast and toyed with the nipple until it was rock-hard.  Then, as if nothing had been said, she patted the bed.

“Not on your life, Lady.”

Anger flourished, but as I trotted down the back stairs of the hotel, it dawned on me that I needn’t look back in anger.  It wasn’t me who was damaged goods.  She’s the one who’d have to live with her indiscretion.

The End

3 – 2026