High Plains Promise

Prologue

PrologueGarden City, KS 1874

“Wesley, wait for me,” nine-year-old Allison Spencer whined as she chased her best friend through the backyard.

“Nope,” Wesley replied, stopping long enough for her almost to catch up before he sped off again. “Hurry up, Allie. You're such a girl,”

“It's not fair,” she wailed, tossing a sweaty strand of golden hair out of her face. “You don't have to wear a skirt!”

“Allison!” Rebecca called.

Allison stopped in her tracks. So did Wesley. They turned in unison to regard Allison's nineteen-year-old sister, who leaned against the railing that surrounded the back porch of their white, two-story home. “Wesley's mother is here. He needs to go, and Ma says you need a bath before church tomorrow.”

Uh oh. We'd better hop to it. Ma won't like it if we dawdle, and she will not appreciate needing to ask twice.

Then the entirety of the message dawned on Allison. Wesley giggled as her face flamed.

Sensing his momentary distraction, she pounced, tackling her best friend directly into a mud puddle that had accumulated in the backyard, beside the rosebushes.

“Allie!” Wesley responded with a whine of his own. Thick, sticky green mud oozed up under his arms and between his legs, staining his already messy play clothes.

“Now who needs a bath, stinky?” Allison teased.

“Don't call me stinky!” Wesley howled. He shoved, knocking Allison off his chest so that she fell into the mud herself.

They looked at each other and burst out laughing. Wes looks like the swamp monster we made up a story about last week, all green and slimy, and from the expression on his face, I bet I look even worse. She ran a hand through her long blond hair and grimaced at the gritty, wet sensation. Definitely worse.

“My ma is going to kill me,” Wesley complained when he had caught his breath.

Privately, Allison agreed. I have a strict mother, but Mrs. Fulton is nothing but a battleax. Sometimes she seems almost crazy. I won't say it though. Wes is defensive about his mother. Instead, she extended her hand to Wesley, intending to help him out of the mud.

He gave her a sharp yank, sending her sprawling in the disgusting slime.

“I'm gonna get you,” she snarled, trying to push herself up. Her hands slipped. “When I get out of this puddle, I'm going to kill you.”

Wesley laughed. “You'll have to catch me first, girly girl.” He hoisted himself to his feet. “Besides, if you kill me, who will marry you then?” He reached out his hand to her this time.

She considered it warily. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I always thought we would get married someday, didn't you, Allie?”

Of course, I have. I don't want to end up like my sister. Poor Becky, jilted by her fiancé. It seems like she might die of grief, though what exactly was so special about that boy, I've never been sure. Marrying my best friend is a much better idea. “Yeah, I guess so,” she replied, aiming for nonchalance. “Are you sure you mean it?”

“Allie,” he said, suddenly solemn, “I promise to marry you when we grow up.” He extended his hand, so they could shake on it. She pressed her palm to his, and they shook briefly. Then he pulled, hoisting her to her feet.

They looked each other in the eyes for the span of half a dozen heartbeats. Then Wesley darted in close and kissed her, pressing his lips briefly to her cheek before giving her another hard shove, sending her sprawling before he turned and ran for the gate.

Ten years later

“Oh, Wesley,” Allison moaned into her fiancé's mouth. He took the opening of her lips as an opportunity to slide his tongue inside. She let him take the familiar liberty, as he'd expected. This time, though, Wesley pressed his advance a step further, opening the buttons of her snowy white shirtwaist halfway to her navel. He slipped his hand inside and began caressing the bare skin of her upper chest, above the lacy edge of her chemise.

A cool breeze slipped past the broken windows of the abandoned farmhouse, teasing Wesley's heated flesh.

Allison moaned again.

Wesley grasped her stiffening n****e and gently squeezed it. “I want you, Allie,” he told her gruffly.

“Oh, Wesley, yes.” She pressed her luscious curves against his body.

He lowered her to the uneven dirt floor and covered her, grasping the edges of Allison's chemise and lowering it. “So pretty,” he whispered, reaching out to touch one, reverence and awe in his voice and hands.

Allison arched her back, offering herself freely.

It's more than I deserve, my precious virgin's eager surrender, but I want to take it, nonetheless. I will someday, after our wedding, which is surely years away. He frowned. I will, however, take a taste of all she has to offer, starting with this bounty spread out before me. Shoving down thought, he touched Allie's again. Stroking her right breast with the tips of his fingers, he caressed the n****e to velvet hardness and leaned down to give it a long, sweet lick.

She squeaked, her hands cupping to the back of his head, holding him against her pillowy softness.

He obligingly opened his lips and sucked little peak into his mouth, tugging gently.

“Ahhh,” Allison sighed.

So, she likes that, does she? He moved to the other side and tried again, getting the same encouraging result.

If only I could marry her now, this summer. We're were a little young, it's true, but I've seen it work before if the families are supportive. Allison's probably would be. They like me well enough, and they realize our marriage is inevitable.

He'd had to endure many lectures from Mr. Spencer about treating a woman he loved with respect. I do respect Allie. No less so, for holding her half-n***d in my arms. If only Mother would agree. But, no. There will be no help from that quarter. I'll have to wait on the wedding until I can afford to support my bride. Which meant he'd have to wait on completing this consummation as well.

Shaking off the thought, he backed up and treated himself to a long, lingering look at his beloved, sprawled on the dirt, breasts bare and glistening in the intense summer sunshine. This is wrong. We should be on a nice, clean bed. Allie should have my ring on her finger. How can I wait to have her? It will be years. Years, and I'm about to burst with longing. While his friends had generally had an experience or two by now, the thought of bedding another woman left Wesley cold. Why would I, when I have all this to play with?

He leaned down to suckle her n****e again, tugging firmly on the sensitive nub.

Allie made a soft sound of pleasure. Her thighs had fallen open so that she cradled his slender hips. He ground against her, imitating i*********e through all their layers of clothing.

“Oh Wes, please. Let's not wait anymore.” She clutched his back and pressed him harder against the apex of her thighs.

He kissed her lips and pulled her clothing back into place. “Allie, I love you. I'm not going to take your virginity here in the dirt, so we can spend the next however many years sneaking around. I won't do it. I want that white wedding and my eager virgin bride afterwards. Don't you want that?”

“It doesn't seem important right now,” she replied, a hint of a sulk lingering around her soft, pink lips.

“That's passion talking. When you calm down—”

“I never calm down, Wes,” she interrupted. “Never. When I wake up in the morning, I'm already on fire. I simmer all day, and by night, I'm burning up. I love you and I want you so bad. Do you honestly think we'll be able to wait years?”

Honestly, I don't, he admitted ruefully, but still, he held firm to his convictions. “I know, sweet girl. I feel it too, and you're right. It will be a struggle, but we should at least try. This is no place for our first time anyway.”

Allison's gaze scanned the room, taking in the cobwebs—some complete with spiders—the bare dirt floor, the broken windows and cracked, buckling walls. At last, she sighed and moved as though to stand.

Wesley obligingly climbed off her, though his aching body protested the movement. He lifted her to her feet and pulled her close for a long hug.

“I wish we could get married now,” she complained.

“I know, honey, but I can't afford it yet. Where would we live? I have to work for a while and save up. The job at the bank is great, and I love it, but to buy a whole house? You know I don't have enough money for that right now.”

“I know.”

“Better head home, honey. You've been gone a long time. You don't want your folks finding us here.”

“Yes, I do,” she replied instantly.

“Why?”

“Because they'll make us get married. That's all I want anyway.”

Wesley had to chuckle at her matter-of-fact response. “Little spitfire,” he said fondly. “It's a good thing I'm not interested in ladylike behavior from my wife.” He kissed her again. “Go home, Allison. Don't you have to get to work early tomorrow?”

She sighed. “Yes, I do. We're expecting a shipment of canned goods, and Mr. Heitschmidt wants a space cleared and ready when they get here, so we don't interrupt the flow of traffic around the store for long.”

“Have fun.” He kissed her forehead, nose, lips, cheeks, and sent her on her way with a firm pat on the bottom.

Alone at last, Wesley began shaking. She has no idea how close I came to taking her invitation. The warmth that had sunk into the front of his trousers had nearly been his undoing. He could still feel her there. She's correct. There's no way we'll succeed in waiting years for the consummation, close as we are already. I hope Allie knows how to relieve the pressure. It doesn't fix the problem, but it takes the edge off. He unbuttoned his trousers and reached inside. If I go home in this state of rampant arousal, Mother will be sure to notice, and she doesn't hold back from commenting.

His hand closed around his aching erection, and he let his eyes slide shut, imagining his sweet Allie, n***d but for a thick gold wedding ring, sprawled in his bed, her thighs spread wide in invitation…

“That's a pretty picture,” a familiar, unwelcome voice commented from the doorway.

Wesley jumped. “Oh my Lord, Samantha! What are you doing here? Go away!” His face burned with shame.

The voluptuous blond strolled into the room. “What am I doing? I'm watching the show. Nice. Very nice. Your Allie is a lucky girl. Too bad you'll never get to marry her.”

“Oh, shut up,” he groused. I hope Allie never finds out the town tramp watched me touching her breasts. I'm not holding out hope, though. Samantha's almost as big a gossip as she is a s**t. “What the hell do you mean? I'm marrying her as soon as I can save up enough money to buy a little house. Everyone knows that.”

“And your mother is a b***h. She hates Allison. If you do manage to marry her, she'll make life miserable for both of you, for the rest of your days.”

“Don't talk about my mother like that. She'll get over it, once it's too late to protest. Now please, go away.” His hands moved to the buttons on his trousers. I'll have to work on my arousal later, at home. It isn't ideal there. If I make the slightest sound, Mother will be knocking on the door, asking if I'm all right.

“What's your hurry?” Samantha asked, nodding to his groin. I like what you've got there. I'd love to see some more of it.”

Red-faced, Wesley turned away. What's wrong with this woman? Does she have no shame? “Go away, Samantha. It's not for you.”

“Only Allison then? How sad for her. If you did manage to marry her, you'd have no idea how to please her. Poor little virgin with a clumsy virgin husband floundering on top of her.” Samantha made a tutting sound. Her arms slipped around Wesley from behind, one hand sliding straight through the opening in his waistband and closing around him.

Wesley froze with shock. Who does things like that?

A wicked little voice whispered in his ear, “She has a point. Most men arrive at their marriage bed with some experience.”

I'm so aroused already, he reminded himself, daring to validate the temptation, just from touching Allison the tiniest bit. Getting her n***d will leave me right on the brink. That dearly-longed-for wedding night will be over before it starts.

In fact, he hovered on the brink right now, his body reacting to the confused mélange of sensations. Images of Allison n***d in his arms blended with Samantha's expert touches. The breeze touched his bare flesh as she lowered his trousers to his knees. Circling around to the front of him, she knelt. Liquid warmth enclosed his aching s*x and he groaned. “Samantha, please stop.”

“Imagine I'm her. Let me help you get ready for her.”

She sucked him back in and he was lost, l**t bowling over his consciousness, drowning his conscience so that when Samantha lifted her skirt to reveal that she wore no bloomers, when she spread her thighs and urged him down, he knelt. When she lined up his thick erection with the opening of her glistening womanhood, he didn't protest. When she urged him inside, he followed her lead. Groaning at the wet, hot sweetness, he gave his innocence to a woman he didn't even like, while the girl he loved made her long way home, unsatisfied.

Samantha arched her hips, taking him to the hilt inside her, and he groaned again. His o****m began instantly, giving the seed that should have belonged to Allison, his future bride, to this wanton creature.