Dude Ranch Nights Read online

  The cabana held an area open to the pool on one side with showers and change rooms at each end, one for males and the other for females. From the lodge, the open area was not visible.

  Once they were inside the three walls, C.J. breathed a sigh of relief. It was one thing to be brassy and act out of character, but to do it in public might be going too far. For a moment, she pictured her mother’s shock and her father’s icy rage if they knew what she was up to.

  Oh, damn it, I’m a grown woman and I can do what I want! I’m already the black sheep of the family, so why get a conscience all of a sudden? I’m here to have fun! An orgy is definitely fun, isn’t it?

  Cam sat on one of the slatted wooden benches. At once, he drew C.J. down onto his lap. That left her exposed in front, but also put whoever approached there at Cam’s mercy because he could see them and reach them if he chose to. She doubted if Randy would be quite that brave. Cam held her loosely, one big hand splayed across her stomach and the other resting on her thigh. She could feel the hard ridge of his cock beneath her, the deep throb as his blood rushed through it with each heartbeat. It was hot, hard as iron, and felt perfect right where it was, although thrust into her depths would feel even better.

  Miranda circled behind Cam and leaned against his back, rubbing her ample breasts against him. For a moment, Randy seemed at a loss, but finally he went behind Miranda, out of Cam’s reach.

  Wise move. Miranda doesn’t seem to care who she’s playing with so maybe she’ll show him more welcome than I would.

  C.J. wiggled a little, rubbing her butt on Cam’s cock, satisfied when she felt it harden still more. She was becoming even more aroused than she had been, yet the idea of performing in front of an audience was rather daunting. She’d certainly never dared to do anything like that before.

  One of Cam’s hands strayed downward, his fingers toying with the curly blond hair that sheltered her sex before delving into it, parting her nether lips to brush past her clit and seek her pussy, which wept slick moisture in anticipation. Her breath hitched at that touch, welcome but not enough. He passed right by her clit, but the stroke of his fingertip along her moist slit and then probing into her cunt felt good, almost too good.

  Temporarily lost in the sensations, C.J. shut her eyes. When she opened them, she was surprised to find Miranda kneeling in front of her, avidly watching Cam’s actions. She was in for another surprise. Withdrawing his hand from teasing her, satisfied she was sufficiently readied, he caught her by the hips and lifted her just enough to settle her onto his iron-hard cock.

  She sucked in a gasp when his prick forged into her, stretching and filling her as he thrust. She clutched at his thighs, her fingers finding slight purchase on the solid saddle muscles that corded his long legs. His lips teased around her ears and along the sensitive flesh of her neck as they began to move together. If he was not accustomed to fucking in public, he didn’t reveal it. He acted as if they were completely alone.

  The next thing C.J. knew, Miranda had her face pressed between C.J.’s legs, tonguing her as Cam’s cock worked her pussy. Oh. My. God! The sensations were the most incredible she’d ever felt. She was not sure if she was enjoying, or simply enduring because they were just too intense. She squeezed her eyes tight shut as a colossal orgasm began to twist and tighten inside her. As it burst free, she started to scream, but Cam clamped a big hand over her mouth to muffle the sound. An instant later, she felt him spurt inside her.

  When C.J. came back to earth, Miranda was still there in front of her, but the brunette had pulled back. Randy knelt on the ground behind Miranda, playing choo-choo. C.J. could not tell if he was in her pussy or her ass, but he was getting his jollies, at any rate. Miranda’s eyes were squeezed shut now. Her ample breasts bobbed as her body rocked to the rhythm of Randy’s energetic fucking.

  Still sitting on Cam’s lap, C.J, reached down with both hands and tweaked Miranda’s nipples, tugging at them almost hard enough to hurt, curious how the other woman would react. Miranda’s eyes flew open and her mouth also opened. Acting on a crazy impulse, C.J. leaned a bit farther forward and pressed her lips to Miranda’s, thrusting her tongue into the other woman’s mouth. She swallowed Miranda’s scream as she climaxed. Randy gave a grunting groan and slumped down for a moment against Miranda’s plump ass.

  Cam stood suddenly, holding C.J. by the waist until she got her feet under her. “We’ve got an early morning tomorrow if we’re going after that cat,” he said, for her ears alone. “If you want to stay and play with these two, that’s your privilege, but I wouldn’t recommend it if you plan to hunt tomorrow.”

  “I didn’t plan on even this much of a frolic, for your information.” She hissed the words, stung by his attitude. You’d think I’d set up the whole scene. All I wanted was a refreshing, warm swim before I got ready for bed! She flounced over to pick up and slip on her short terry robe, then gathered her discarded bathing suit before she stalked off toward the lodge.

  At least between the incredible sex and her indignation, her aches and pains were forgotten.

  Chapter 5

  Cam rapped lightly on Carole’s door as he passed on his way downstairs the next morning. She answered, her tone somewhat surly, but at least she sounded wide awake. She surprised him yet again. Actually, it had not been all that late when they left the pool, but he had expected her to sleep in.

  He smiled to himself, recalling the stiff set of her back when she’d stalked off, as if she were not nude under that demure robe…and well-fucked, too. In some ways he would have preferred to wait a bit longer, but he wasn’t about to let that sleaze Randy have first crack at her. His only option had been to take her himself, then and there, which he did. She had not disappointed him either. Hot as a proverbial two-dollar pistol. Given a bit more foreplay and some privacy, she’d no doubt be even better. He didn’t make it a habit to cull ass like cantaloupes, rejecting some as inferior. It was all good, but some was definitely better. Carole VanDemont was better approaching best.

  Out at the stable, Cam selected their mounts for the day and a couple of mules for pack animals. He instructed Pancho Flores and his teenage son Chuy to start for Crystal Canyon with the hounds as soon as they could saddle and get ready. Today, Cam would also ride a mule. A tall, homely sorrel mollie-mule named Flossie was his choice. She didn’t look like much, but she was strong, calm, and sure-footed. He’d put Carole on Mousie, a steady gray that strongly resembled his burro sire. There was no telling where the puma’s trail would lead them, but it would, no doubt, be into some challenging country, where even the best trail horse would be dangerously outclassed. When the going got really tough, a mule made the best choice for a mount. That’s why he had many mules in his stable.

  Carole was at breakfast when he entered the dining room after setting things up for their hunt. She looked a bit wan and maybe a tad embarrassed, but she smiled at him. This was not the time to press or to add to any distress she might feel. He got a cup of coffee and joined her, acting as calm and impersonal as if they’d never been intimate. Today she wore blue jeans and a plaid flannel shirt. A heavier leather jacket hung on the back of her chair along with a broad-brimmed hat, dangling by its braided leather chin strap.

  “I see you’re all set for a rugged ride,” he said. “That’s good. Yesterday was little more than a trot along the bridle paths compared to what we’ll be facing today. When the hounds begin to close in, most of the big cats head for the roughest country they can find. There’s a maze of narrow canyons along the rim, some we can ride into and some that are impassible. It’s the luck of the draw—we’ll see what kind of hand that old lion will deal us.”

  “I’m here for adventure, so I’m game for whatever we encounter. I was all set to stalk tigers in the foothills of the Himalaya with my uncle before he was killed. This is the closest thing I could find to substitute without leaving the country. I fear my family would have apoplexy if I went abroad alone. Most of them don’t have an adventurous bone in
their entire bodies, worse luck.”

  “Yes, it happens. One person gets the whole supply of the wild genes or whatever drives that restless streak. That’s why I offer the services I do, for those who need an adrenaline rush, the thrill of the chase and the excitement of putting their lives on the line. I don’t get a lot of women as customers, but so far you’ve proved to be quite capable. I’ve been pleasantly surprised.” He emphasized the last word ever so slightly, unable to resist one tiny dig.

  As a faint flush touched her high cheekbones, she dropped her emerald gaze to her plate. “I admit I enjoy a challenge. My father seems to get his thrills from business dealings and my brother through athletic events—he plays football and sculls in college. Mother wouldn’t take adventure if it came in a satin box with a velvet bow, I’m afraid. So that leaves me. Maybe there were some pioneers in my ancestry. Some of them had to leave the old country to carve their empires out of the wilderness a couple of centuries ago.”

  “Just as mine did, of course—they were Scots and Irish for the most part. Well, I’m not content to rest on their laurels, and it seems you aren’t either. Let’s go hunt a puma.”

  * * * *

  It didn’t seem to take nearly as long today to reach Crystal Creek Canyon. Of course they approached from the mouth instead of on the rim far above the canyon floor. C.J. found Mousie had an even smoother gait than Josie, to which she was able to adjust quickly. The rhythm of the little mule’s shuffling yet quick pace kept him close on Flossie’s heels. Pushing their speed, Cam did not have much to say. Torn between a bit of pique at being all but ignored and gratitude she could concentrate on keeping a position allowing her the maximum comfort, C.J. made sure she stayed close, not knowing what they were going to face.

  Apparently Pancho and Chuy had traveled slower, perhaps to keep the hounds under control, until they neared the spot where the puma had been. When C.J. and Cam caught up with the other two, they were about mile into the canyon.

  “Let Old Noddie and Belle go,” Cam said. “If there’s a trace of scent to be found, those two will do it. Noddie’s got the keenest nose in ten counties, and Belle’s not far behind. They both come from a fine line of Bloodhounds crossed with some great Coon-hunting dogs out of Alabama.”

  The rest of the pack milled and whined as the two females ranged about, with audible sniffs and snuffles. Suddenly, Noddie let out a long, mournful bay. Belle hurried to join her and gave a sharp yip as she, too, caught the scent.

  “She smell the cat,” Pancho announced, grinning. “Now we see where she go.”

  Pandemonium erupted as the rest of the dogs realized the leaders had found a track. In a few moments, once Pancho and Chuy had freed them all, they set out on the trail, leaving the two keen-nosed bitches to point the way. The chorus of barks and yaps drifted back in the moist morning air as the pack charged up the steep rocky slope.

  “My God, are we going up that?” C.J. looked up at the beetling ridge above them, which, in places, seemed to be vertical or even to lean outward. “I can’t see how even the dogs will keep their footing!”

  “We’ll go a bit more roundabout than the cat did and the dogs are, but yes, we’ll follow them in as direct a route as we can. Stay close. There’s no telling whether the cat has moved on or if it may be lingering nearby watching us. So long as it didn’t double back, the dogs will follow wherever the scent trail leads.”

  C.J. cast anxious glances around as she urged Mousie up a narrow trail behind Flossie. Hardly more than a faint trace in the damp ground, at least it was soft enough to allow the mules to dig their hooves in and find purchase. Higher up it looked to be mostly bare rock, which would offer much riskier footing.

  Perhaps the cat went another way, so we won’t have to go straight to the top here. She glanced back…a mistake. They had already come some distance from the canyon floor. It was both too far and too straight down. She turned back to the front and trained her gaze on the bell shapes cut into Flossie’s tail, a strange style of adornment Cam said was often used on mules, especially those used as saddle animals. The mournful melody of the dogs’ voices awoke some primal instinctive sense, one that both stirred and troubled her. The ageless song of the chase, hunter and hunted, hummed in her blood and kept time with her heartbeat.

  Among our ancient primitive ancestors, it wasn’t only the males who hunted. There were huntresses also. In some genetic memory or long-ago incarnation, I have done this and I recognize it. I think perhaps it was a female who befriended a mother wolf and her pups and they came to hunt as a team.

  But today, here and now, she was glad Cam carried a powerful rifle in a scabbard beneath his right leg and a sidearm rested in a leather holster on his right hip. With Uncle Rene, she had always wanted to be in on the kill, to fire at least a shot or two. Today that didn’t matter. For an instant, she flashed back to the previous night, her bare buttocks pressing on Cam’s hard thighs and then the heated pole of his cock rising to impale her…In those sensations, an elemental and primitive force moved as well.

  The mating instinct was as basic and fierce as that of the hunt. They were almost inseparable. Times would come when, burdened with young, a female would have to leave hunting to her mate. Then she would need to be assured his prowess would feed them well, her and her progeny.

  There was no doubt in C.J.’s mind Cam would be more than equal to that task. An exquisite shiver comprised of lust mingled with a great deal more swept through her. She clenched her hand on the saddle horn as Mousie lunged up over a rocky ledge. Anxiety faded. Cam would not lead them anywhere too difficult for the mules to go; he would not allow any harm to come to her. Though not sure how she knew, she felt as confident of that knowledge as the fact the sky was blue above. Though it was only for this day and perhaps the day or two to follow, Cam was, for the moment, her mate. At least this once, she’d chosen well. It was delicious. It was frightening. It was wonderful!

  * * * *

  They followed the puma’s meandering trail all morning. There were times it was impossible to go where the dogs went, noses to the track leading them relentlessly on. Then Cam would scout out a path, one inevitably ending up back behind the hounds once more. Sometimes their baying grew faint, almost inaudible, and at others the sound was clear and seemed close. C.J.’s initial surge of excitement faded as the chase threatened to go on forever. Still she hoped the dogs would trap the cat either in a tree or on a ledge or cavern from which it could not escape.

  She noticed Pancho referred to the puma as “she,” but that might have nothing to do with its gender at all. English pronouns seemed to confuse many Spanish speakers because, as she knew, gender was incorporated into the Spanish noun in most cases. Finally, they paused on a ridge crest to let the mules blow, while Cam plotted their next move. They all dismounted, loosening cinches to let the mules breathe freely. The hounds’ voices came now from deep in the canyon below them, rising in pitch and volume.

  “From the sound of things, they’re closing in,” Cam explained. “We need to get down there as fast as we can. It’s hard to figure what a treed cat will do. Sometimes they just give up and hang there yowling, but sometimes they’ll fight, take a prodigious leap in an attempt to escape, or even fall into the midst of the dogs. I hate to let a lion escape or a dog get hurt because I wasn’t there when I needed to be.”

  C.J. studied him openly, driven by a sudden need to fix his likeness in her mind. This was the view of him she wanted to keep—the intense and determined hunter, the man completely at home in his rugged environment, the consummate leader to whom everyone looked for guidance. Pancho and Chuy waited for his directions with expressions that said he was not only their boss but held their complete respect and devotion. C.J. noted he might be brusque with them, but not high-handed or overbearing.

  Cam rattled off a quick burst of Spanish, gesturing as he spoke. Pancho nodded. “Ah si, we can do this thing. Creo que la gata, she go to the rillito, and maybe up a sycamore tree?”


  Nodding, Cam agreed. “Find a way down as soon as you can. If the dogs and the cat are upstream from where you are, shoot once. If they’re downstream, shoot twice. I know there’s a trail C.J. and I can use about a half-mile up the ridge. It’s old and not an easy path, but better than sliding down the rocks. Our guest is not experienced enough to handle that. If you need to, one of you take the mules and the other hike on down the most direct way and find the dogs. Pancho, let Chuy take the mules. You’re better directing the dogs than he is.”

  The two wranglers headed away. Before he remounted, Cam took a deep drink from his canteen and suggested C.J. do the same. Near midday now, the sun beat down strongly and seemed to bounce back from the rose-and-cream cliffs in doubled strength. The tepid water tasted good and took some of the cottony feel out of her mouth and throat. This was turning into a real adventure, one quite different from the previous night’s escapade, but just as intense.

  The way into the canyon was the roughest they’d traversed yet. C.J. leaned back until the cantle of her saddle dug into the small of her back, her feet in the stirrups alongside Mousie’s shoulders. The little mule tucked his hindquarters down and braced with his front legs on some of the steepest portions of the trail, but he seemed sure-footed and confident in his ability to negotiate the hardest going.

  Once Cam glanced back to see how she was faring. He smiled. “You’re doing great, Carole. Just hang on and let Mousie do the work. If you stay on top, he’ll get you to the bottom.”

  She nodded, not quite sure she could speak after she looked down the near-vertical chute that plunged to the distant canyon floor. At least they were not going down that. It would take technical climbing gear to do so and no four-footed creature alive could manage it, she was sure.

  They were about halfway down when a single shot sounded, booming through the canyon. Between the echoes and her current disorientation with their zigzagging plunge into the canyon, she was not at all sure whether the hounds were downstream or up from where they were. She finally decided the sounds, both the shot and the hounds’ eager bays, were coming from down canyon.