Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

by Purple Les

I’d like to deeply thank JetBoy — not only for being my editor, but for his contributions to the story as well.

*****

With her big bay horse at full gallop, The Tequila Kid glanced behind her. The two clouds of dust following her were catching up quickly. The Kid stretched forward till her face was near her horse’s ear.

“Git up, Buttercup!” she said in her sweetest, most urgent voice — and the horse fairly flew. Buttercup would run forever for The Kid. The Tequila Kid looked back again and could see she was outpacing the two riders behind her, but barely.

Now if they could make it to the rocks ahead she’d have water and cover. Easy to pick the two riders off. They may even just turn back, once they see the fix they’ll be in.

Then Buttercup’s front leg fell into a prairie dog hole. The Kid went flying forward into the dust and sand. Coughing, she struggled to her feet. No bones broken, thank goodness. Then she saw the look of agony on the horse’s face.

The Kid wore two Colt .45 peacemakers. The one on her left hip was empty. The gun on her right had only one bullet remaining. She’d used up most of her ammunition back where she’d had the shootout with five men. Two were dead, two had followed her, and the last man had disappeared. That one concerned her the most — would he be returning, with reinforcements?

It felt like cutting off her own hand, but The Kid did what she had to. She drew the gun and, with her last bullet, put Buttercup out of her suffering almost before the horse knew what had happened.

The Kid pulled her Winchester from its holster and dug herself down behind the dead horse. She had twelve shots in the rifle. The two riders came fast now, both of them firing their six-shooters.

The Tequila Kid held her fire. Bullets tore into the flesh of her dead horse and kicked up sand, dust and gore all around her. She squeezed a shot off now at the rider on her left. He flew off his horse backwards. His horse ran by The Kid and kept going at a full gallop. The rider lay dead, his leg twisted at an odd angle.

The other rider had jumped off his horse and lay flat behind a small sand dune before calling out. “Hey, Kid! It’s me, Thad Baxter. I don’t hold no hard feelings from that dust-up we had in Laredo.”

The Kid had beat him in a fistfight there in a nine-minute donnybrook in the street that had every saloon in town emptied out. The crowd was shouting and cheering, laying bets right and left. The Kid at 5′ 9″ and one hundred and forty pounds had knocked out Baxter, though he was 6’3″ and weighed two hundred and ten.

“Listen, Kid.” Baxter went on, “It don’t have to be this way. How ‘bout this — I’ll split the gold with you, fifty-fifty. Throw out your guns, now, and let’s parley.”

“Why are you wastin’ time out here, Thad?” The Tequila Kid called back. “Funny as you are, you oughta be in burlesque. Here’s another funny one. Throw out your gun, and I’ll take you back to Adobe for a fair trial.”

She heard Baxter snort with laughter. “Well now. That is a rib tickler, Kid. I reckon hangin’ around with them Texas Rangers has done robbed you of what little sense you ever had.”

The Kid shook her head. A waste of time, but she would do this by the book. “Thad Baxter, I place you under arrest in the name of the law. I’ll see you face trial for murder and robbery.”

“Haw haw. You’re the comedian, Kid. Throw out the gold to me and I’ll let you walk away.”

The Tequila Kid reached down in the saddle bag. The blow flies had already appeared from nowhere and were crawling on the dead horse. She threw a bag of gold toward Thad Baxter. It landed halfway between them.

“Them bags is heavy, Baxter. I reckon you’ll have to come out and get it.”

“Damn it, Kid. I ain’t foolin’ around here.”

“Well, I’m right comfortable where I am, Thad. Either pick it up and go, or give yourself up.”

“Kid, you’re gettin’ me riled up. Now come on out with your hands held high, or I’ll kill you dead.”

“Come on and try it. Come on, Baxter. You child-raping, old woman-killing piece of lizard dung.” The Kid cocked her rifle and put it to her shoulder.

“Aw, Kid. You gonna hurt my feelin’s, callin’ me all them mean names.”

The Kid sighed. This was going nowhere. “Baxter, if you got any grit you’ll throw me some bullets for my .45 and we’ll have us a fair showdown. I reckon you ain’t man enough, though.”

Thad laughed, low and dirty. “Stand up, Kid, and I’ll give you all the bullets you need.”

The sun beat down mercilessly, the air hotter than the breath of hell. The only sound was the flies’ buzzing.

The Tequila Kid took her hat off, draped it over the barrel of her Colt and slowly raised her arm until it was in the gunman’s view. As soon as the bullet from Baxter’s gun had torn through it the Kid leapt to her feet and fired. The bullet from her rifle tore through Baxter’s shoulder and the gun went flying out of his hand.

The Kid cocked the rifle again and moved toward the now kneeling outlaw. He made a grab for his gun and aimed it, but The Kid put another bullet in him before he could fire.

Baxter fell to the ground, but managed to get one last shot off, this one into his horse. “If I ain’t gettin’ out of here, Kid, then neither are you,” he growled, his face now pale as chalk. Gasping out his last breath, the outlaw lay motionless in the dirt.

“Shit,” The Kid muttered when she saw that the bullet Baxter had put in his horse hadn’t done the job all the way. A shot rang out from The Kid’s Winchester, and another horse lay dead, out of its misery.

The Kid went through pockets and saddlebags of the dead men, trying to find evidence to link them to the murders back in the town of Adobe Wells. She paused, recalling how it had begun for her.

*****

She’d heard an agonized scream while passing by a house. The Kid had raced inside, nearly stumbling over the naked corpse of an old woman. A young boy lay nearby, also nude, screaming in fear and pain.

The Kid picked the boy up and carried him out of the house. Passersby stared at the odd sight as she raced through the streets, but she just kept running until the child was laid out on a cot in Doc Bagby’s office. It was too late by then, though — the boy was dead.

The doctor stroked his beard as he stared at the boy, eyes wide in disbelief. “Jesus H. Christ. Is this the way you found young Dan? Naked and bleeding out his anus like that?”

“Yep.” The Kid grimly replied. “There’s an old woman there who’s dead, too. Also naked. Maybe you could come look at her and see how she was killed?”

The doctor took two big swallows out of his hip flask. “Let’s go.” he said. The doctor pulled the sheet up over the boy’s head. “The woman must be his grandma. Good woman. Damn shame.” Shouldering into his coat, he picked up his black bag.

As they walked to the woman’s house, The Kid asked Doc Bagby, “What was it killed the boy?”

“Pure shock, I think,” the doctor replied. “I swear, his heart just seemed to plumb give out. Whatever it was happened to poor Dan, it shook him up. More’n he could take.” He spat to one side in disgust.

Soon they were in the house, where the doctor knelt to examine the old woman’s body. The Kid looked around the room while Bagby did his work.

A moment later, she heard him grunt. “Shit. She was butt raped too.” He rolled the body back over, studied it briefly. “Killed by a big man,” he added.

Curious, The Kid turned to look. “How you figger that, Doc?”

“Her ribs have been broken from the weight of the body on her. See the bruise on her neck here? Big hand crushed her windpipe and snapped her neck. Not till after she’d suffered his rape, though.” The doctor took a long pull from his flask and said, “God rest her soul.” Glancing at the corpse again, his eyes widened, “Wait just a minute…” He bent to examine the dead woman’s groin area, then exclaimed, “Here now! She was raped both ways.” Bagby slowly rose to his feet, shaking his head.

The Tequila Kid saw some tracing paper on the table. Taking a sheet and a pencil, she placed it on the dead woman’s neck and traced the outline of the hand on to the paper.

Doc Bagby watched her work. “You figger to catch the killer with that?”

“Maybe,” The Kid said with a shrug. “Not many men with hands that big.”

“I reckon not. I sure hope you get ‘im, Kid.”

She had the doctor sign and date the paper, then carefully folded it and put it in her vest pocket.

Just then there was a flurry of gunshots in the street. The Kid ran out without a word, already unholstering her six-shooter.

As The Tequila Kid hit the street, her suspicions were confirmed — the shots were coming from inside the bank. Flattening herself against a nearby building, she fired three shots, enough to keep the five masked men who were exiting the bank from getting to their horses. She ducked behind a doorway as a hail of bullets came in reply.

There was a moment of silence, then the men made for their horses again. The Tequila Kid cut two of them down first. She ran to her horse Buttercup, leapt into the saddle and rode off after the remaining three.

As she gave chase, one of the bandits held back behind cover and took a shot at The Kid, close enough to whine past her ear. She jumped off her horse before he could get off another, and ducked behind a boulder, sneaking around the side to the rear of her would-be ambusher.

Caught by surprise, the masked man dropped his gun. Covering him closely, The Kid checked his saddle bag and found four sacks of gold — small ones, but still worth a pretty penny. She whistled for her horse Buttercup, who immediately came to her.

She kept her gun on the man while she put the gold in her saddle bags. “You’re under arrest, mister. I’ll get you and this gold back to town, then I’ll track down your friends.”

As the last word left The Kid’s lips, someone shot her hat off. She turned and fired, but the other two had doubled back and were on either side of her.

The man she had stopped mounted and rode off, yelling behind him, “She’s got the gold! Kill her!”

The Kid got off enough shots to keep the men off her while she jumped on Buttercup and sped off. They followed in hot pursuit, and there was another shoot-out among some boulders. The Kid got a jump on them on the trail after that one. They followed after, riding hard.

That’s how she’d ended up in the badlands, being chased by outlaws. They’d been dealt with, but now The Kid was in a pretty pickle — a long way from civilization, with some serious weight to carry and no horse.

Now she was going through the pockets of the two dead men. She pocketed anything that she thought might serve as evidence. She also took Baxter’s tobacco pouch — her own supply was running low, and Thad sure wouldn’t be rolling his own anytime soon.

The last thing she did was pull down the pants of both men, grimacing all the while. It had to be done, though. She was looking for a dick with blood or shit on it, but neither of them showed a trace. They were innocent of the rapes, at least. Somehow, she was certain that the murders and the bank robbery were connected.

The Kid took what was of use to her. Her own saddlebag and bedroll. To that she added some coffee, rifle bullets, flour, three cans of beans, a can of cling peaches, and a pound of bacon, all from Baxter’s saddle bag.

As she took one last look at her horse she turned and headed toward the rocks. Tears ran down her cheeks, leaving a dirty trail down her face as she mourned Buttercup.

*****

The Kid made the rocks about twilight. There was a spring there, as she was certain there would be. The Kid knew this territory well. She filled the two canteens she had, washed her face, hands and neck, then sat back, took off her boots and put on a pair of moccasins. She rested a spell, ate some jerky and drank as much water from the spring as she could hold.

The Tequila Kid began walking then, trying to puzzle out what was going on. Five men. Four of them dead. A murdered woman and boy, both raped. Four bags of gold taken from the bank, now in her saddle bag. As she walked through the cool star-filled night, she tried to connect it all, but ended up with more questions than answers.

Having lived with the Mojave tribe into young adulthood, The Kid was used to marathon walks and runs. As dawn came, she planned to walk till mid-morning, then rest in some shade.

By about 10 AM, The Kid found a tall cactus, where she fixed her bed roll on its spines to provide a decent amount of shade. She had a drink of water, then rested till late afternoon, when she started walking again.

From a distance, The Kid saw some buzzards massing, and hoped she hadn’t walked in a circle. As she got farther along, she saw a body lying in the sand. The Kid walked toward it.

As The Kid got closer, she still couldn’t tell if it was a corpse or not. It just lay there motionless as the buzzards moved in.

Drawing nearer, The Kid realized that the body was that of a girl, a young one. Got to be dead, she told herself. Be damned if I’ll let them buzzards have her for lunch, though. She cocked her rifle and took aim.

*****

The little girl had no idea how long she’d been out there. Her lips were dried together and she couldn’t open her mouth. Each time her eyes fluttered open, she saw a large vulture getting closer and closer.

Now the buzzard was almost in her face. The red bald head and hooked orange beak seemed gigantic to the girl. Then all of a sudden she heard a loud bang, and the buzzard vanished in a blizzard of feathers.

The little girl opened her eyes again and saw a face looking down at her. At first she thought it was an Indian. That can’t be right, though. She had bright blue eyes, and long rust-colored hair done up in braids. She dressed like a man, but there was no mistaking that this was a woman. The face had strange marks on the chin below the mouth. This odd-looking woman also wore a hat full of bullet holes. The little girl’s eyes closed, and she wondered if this was some kind of dream.

But when the little girl opened her eyes again a moment later, the face was still there. The strange woman said, “Well now, Button, good to see you’re still with us. Don’t you worry none. I’ll get you out of here with me.”

The woman took out a bandana from her pocket and soaked it with water, then lightly pressed it to the young girl’s mouth. “Push your tongue against your lips. We got to get them open.”

Once she was able to open her mouth, the woman said, “Hold this swallow of water in your mouth long as you can, then swallow it — also as slow as you can.”

The girl did her best, but ended up coughing the water up. At last, however, she was able to take a few swallows.

Closing her eyes, the girl felt herself being lifted into the air. That was the last thing she remembered.

*****

The Tequila Kid was carrying the small girl over her shoulders like you would a lamb. They wouldn’t be able to travel very far — along with the girl, The Kid carried about a hundred pounds of gear. Luckily, The Kid knew of a water hole nearby. Once there, she could tend to the little girl and figure out what to do next.

It was dusk now as they made the small cluster of raised rocks and the spring, where a small pool of clear, cool water emptied into a lazy creek. The Kid put the girl down gently as she could, then unloaded her gear.

The Kid stretched out her bedroll by the water, placed the little girl on it, then removed the child’s tattered clothes. Once the girl was naked, the Kid figured she was maybe nine years old or so. She was small boned and had a fair complexion — not someone used to spending much time in the sun.

Fetching some water from the creek, The Kid tenderly washed the girl clean, then took some herbs from her saddle bag that she ground into a poultice and carefully applied to the child’s blisters, burns, and cuts. Finally, the Kid took a clean shirt from her saddle bag and dressed the sleeping girl in it. It hung like a dress on the small child, and The Kid had to roll the sleeves up so the girl would have her hands free.

Her work done, The Kid studied the girl, wondering how she’d ended up in the desert on her own, then shrugged. Reckon she’ll tell me soon enough… if she’s able to, anyhow.

The Kid did a quick patrol around their campsite, then lay down in the bed roll with the child and fell asleep.

At dawn, The Kid awoke. Rising and stretching, she stripped her clothes off and bathed in the small waterhole. It was about eight feet across, maybe twelve feet deep. The water was cold, but bracing, and it felt mighty good to scrub off the dust and grit of the badlands.

The little girl awoke to the sound of splashing water. Opening her eyes, she saw a beautiful naked woman come out of the water and stare at her.

The woman drew closer. “Well howdy there, Button. How bout some water?”

The woman helped the child sit up a little and gave her all the water she could drink from the canteen. “Feel any better?” she asked.

“You got no clothes on!” The girl exclaimed. Then, feeling foolish, she added, “Um, I feel awful.” Then her eyes widened. “You saved me! Oh, thank you, thank you. I don’t…” Then she blacked out, her body going limp.

The Kid laid the girl back down. “You rest now, Button,” she whispered.

Feeling strangely restless, The Kid busied herself by washing all her clothes, then laid them to dry on the rocks. She cleaned her guns, the Colts and the Winchester, then loaded the rifle, muttering curses because she had no bullets left for her six-shooters. The little girl dozed on in the heat of the day.

Later, The Kid came across a rattlesnake, about twenty feet away from the bedroll. Whipping the Bowie knife from her belt, she cocked her arm and threw it, spearing the snake’s head. She skinned the four-foot long rattler, then roasted the meat over a small fire, seasoning it as it cooked. Once it was done, she speared a chunk on her knife and devoured it, then continued to eat until she was full.

She cleaned the grease from her face in the spring, then filled her coffee pot with water and, with herbs and dried beans from her saddle bag, made soup with the rest of the snake meat.

The Kid dressed in dry clothes and packed the rest of her duds in her saddle bag, then sat down, patiently waiting for the girl to awaken. The child’s eyes fluttered open around dusk, and The Kid knelt beside her, propping her up. “Here, Button. Drink some of this.”

“What is it?” the little girl asked, staring at the golden liquid in the cup.

“Chicken soup.” The Tequila Kid answered, deciding that it was best to lie to the child about the ingredients.

The girl drank a little. “It’s the best thing I ever tasted,” she said.

“Drink all you can, Button. You need to build your strength back up.”

Puzzled, the child gazed up at The Kid. “How come you call me that?”

“Cause you’re as cute as a button… and cause I don’t know your name. Me, I’m the Tequila Kid. My friends just call me Kid.”

The little girl held her hand out and said, “I’m Arabella Elizabeth Hodgekiss. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Howdy.” The Kid took the child’s small hand in hers for a moment, then let it go, wondering what such a well-mannered little girl had been doing in the desert alone. The remains of the clothes she’d taken off the child before showed that she was well dressed, if not expensively so, and the softness of her hands made it clear that she’d never had to work for a living. Where’s her family got to? The Kid wondered.

She said, “Mind if I just call you Button for now? That name of yours is quite a mouthful for me.”

Arabella picked a chunk of meat from the mug and chewed it thoughtfully. “No, I don’t mind if you call me that, Kid.” She glanced down at the shirt that covered her. “What is this I’m wearing?”

“It’s one of my shirts. There weren’t enough of your clothes left to cover you proper. First I washed you up, though, and took care of your cuts and scrapes. You feel any better?”

“My head hurts some.” She paused, then added, “I saw you naked.”

The Kid grinned. “Well, that don’t bother me none. Hope it didn’t bother you.”

“No, it didn’t. I…” Some color came rushing to the girl’s fair young face. “I used to see my big sister naked. You’re even more pretty than she was.” Tears welled up in Arabella’s light brown eyes.

“Was?” the Kid asked gently. “Look here, Button — can you tell me how you ended up in the desert all by yourself?”

But Arabella began to cry and shiver. The Kid took the mug from her, quickly rinsed it in the creek and filled it with water, than went to her saddle bag and added some herbs to it from her medicinal pouch. The Kid got the girl to drink some of the mixture. Her sobbing stopped, then she fell into a deep, restful sleep.

Better get some shut-eye myself, The Kid decided, and lay next to the girl, soon dozing off.

*****

The Kid woke at daybreak. She bathed, dressed and made a small fire. Arabella awoke and looked around, confused at first. Then she saw The Tequila Kid, and smiled. “Good morning!”

“Hey, Button. Here, got somethin’ for you.” The Kid had heated the leftover soup in the coffee pot. Now she offered it to the girl for breakfast.

“Thanks, Kid. Sure smells good!” The child quickly gulped it all down.

The Kid washed the pot out and made coffee. After it brewed, she offered the girl a cup. “Do you have any sugar?” Arabella asked.

“Sorry, Button, I don’t.”

“That’s okay. I’ll still have some.”

The kid filled their cups, and they sipped their coffee in silence. “How’s your head this morning?” The Kid asked.

“Oh, I feel much better. Kinda weak, though.”

“It’ll take a spell to put you right. We’ll rest up here a few days, till you’re fit to travel.”

“Are you an Indian?”

The Kid considered the question. Arabella quickly added, “I don’t mean to be rude. I just… those marks on your chin.”

Pouring herself another cup of coffee, The Kid began to speak. “Well, here’s how that happened. I was maybe seven or so. My family was travelin’ west. A group of Yavapai braves came on us and wanted food. My Pa didn’t give ‘em any and told ‘em to git. Well, them Indians didn’t take too kindly to that. They killed my Pa, Ma, and brother, then they took me and my big sister as slaves.

“They was a mean tribe. The women and kids hit us and spit on us. They worked us hard and fed us scraps of food. We learned their language and got treated just a little better than the dogs. But not much. My sister would make me sing hymns with her while we worked, and that held some with ‘em, as they took it for strong medicine. Sometimes they’d even ask us to sing.

“We was there about a year when a woman from the Mojave tribe came to the camp. I don’t know why, but she took a shine to me and my sister, so she bought us from the Yavapai. Paid a lot, too. Three blankets, a horse, and beads. Me and my sister, we didn’t expect things to be any different. Thought we’d just be slaves for another tribe.

“Well, the Mojave took us in. Made us family to them. We learned their talk easy, as it weren’t much different than the Yavapai. They was a lot different than the Yavapai, though. Real good looking Indians. The men was all tall and well built. The women were the ones in charge of everything, and spoke their minds to the men.

“These marks on my chin are tattoos. All the Mojave women have ‘em. I felt like I was Mojave by then, since my whole family was gone ‘cept my big sister. I have tattoos on my upper arms too.”

There was a long silence, then Arabella said, “Thank you for telling me that, Kid.” She yawned. “Oh, me. I’m feelin’ sleepy again. I’m sorry I can’t stay awake more…”

“That’s okay, Button,” The Kid said. “Rest is what you need more than anything right now. You go to sleep.”

The Kid cleaned up the camp while Arabella dozed. Feeling hot and grimy, she decided to bathe once more. Stripping down, she stepped into the cool water.

When she emerged from the creek and saw that the girl was still asleep, she decided to take care of an itch she had. An itch that had to be rubbed a certain way. Ever since she’d found the young girl, the Kid had been feeling that itch.

She knelt on the ground, mostly facing away from Button. The Kid put her fingers between her legs and looked for what she called the little boy in the canoe. Once she found it, she began to pleasure herself.

*****

Moments earlier, Arabella woke up and saw the Kid swimming in the small waterhole. She pretended to be asleep, but kept her eyes on the Kid, hoping to see her naked again.

She got her wish. Her heart raced as the woman emerged, water dripping from her bare body.

Then something happened that thrilled the girl even more. The Kid got down on her knees, slipping a hand between her legs. Soon she was breathing hard, occasionally sighing with pleasure.

Arabella couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Not only was the Kid naked, she was doing what her big sister had showed her how to do. She’s diddling herself! the girl thought, her heart racing.

That was what her sister had called it, diddling. It was fun, just about the most fun a girl could have. Arabella’s sister had proved that to her, many times over. Arabella couldn’t see all of it, but she knew that was what The Kid was up to.

*****

The Kid worked herself up into a nice orgasm, quickly washed her groin and hands in the spring water, then put her clothes on. Soon after she was fully dressed, Arabella sat up and yawned.

“Well, now. Did you have a good nap, Button? How bout some lunch? I got a can of beans we can split.”

“That sounds good, Kid. Thank you.”

They ate the beans in silence. After that, Arabella slept some more. It was late afternoon when she awoke. She took a drink of water, then began to tell her story to The Kid.

Saddle up! And head on over to Chapter Two!