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The Only Rules That Matter: Legacy (Corsair and Madam Mim)

Married? Had she said wife? Jesus Christ! She had! “Ah was tryin’,” she replied testily, trying to ignore the complicated feelings that woke in her, “ta calm things down! Th’ bartender’s th’ one what pulled a club, Jackie! What should Ah have done? Let him beat ya like a mule?” She gripped the reins tight, feeling her knuckles strain.

“Look Dhateste,” Jackie replied with an irritated sigh, “if you're gonna have me along on this yer gonna have ta get used to either gettin' kicked out of most 'respectable' places, startin' fights in 'em, or just waitin' in a different line than me. There's a reason I don't usually go into white towns too much, and sometimes I just get sick of bein' told my place."

Despite herself, Sam began to laugh. “Then Ah reckon Ah’ll be startin’ a lot o’ fights an’ gettin’ kicked outta a lotta places, Tsidiiligai. Cause Ah ain’t never gonna be ashamed ya be seen wit’ ya, an’ Ah ain’t never been one ta back down.” She flashed her lover a quick grin. “He’ll, Ah been told a time or two that some folk call me ‘stubborn’. Kin ya imagine that?”

She fell silent for a minute, then steered her horse over to a small general store. “Hang on,” she said, dismounting and heading inside. A couple of minutes later she came out with two bottles and a brown paper bag. “Reckoned it might be easier,” she explained, “if Ah jes grabbed somethin’ fer us.” Handing over one bottle, she worked the cap off the other. “Didn’t have no beer, so I grabbed us a Coke drink each, an some crackers an’ cheese ya go with it.” A chuckle. “Didn’t even have ta kick a man’s ass ta get it”

She swigged down a mouthful, then wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “Jes’ ta check, though... if’n Ah tell ya yer place is ridin’ wit’ me,” another sidelong glance, and a sly smile, “or, mebbe, in bed wit me? Y’gonna ger tired o’ hearin’ that?”
 
"Christ on a cracker!" Jackie groaned. "It ain't about shame, Sammy, it's about the goddamned law. Like it er not, this," she gestured between them, "ain't legal in any way, shape, or form. Not even for he-Sam. And I can take care of myself thanks; wasn't gettin' beat like a mule before I dragged yer sorry ass out the desert."

She appreciated Sam sticking by her, even if she did avoid the wife issue, but she seemed to be laughing away the problem Jackie saw as most obvious, if only because she'd been reminded of it her entire life. Her daddy had helped the tribe out when she was little, before she could remember, so they'd always mostly accepted her as their own. But kids were cruel, and even at nineteen she couldn't forget the pre-pubescent taunts of kids in the village: half-breed, white bird, mick. She had been teased for her green eyes, for her freckles, and when her daddy had been alive for how different he looked from everybody else. That had stopped as they'd gotten older, but then she had gone into towns where she'd caught shit for being brown and all of the lovely epithets which went with that. Sam didn't seem to understand--or she was being deliberately obtuse--that it wasn't about the fighting; it was about the law, and about everything that nobody had ever let her forget.

When Sam went in and came out with drinks and a snack, though, she couldn't help but feel her frustration and anger melt. Why did she have to do that? Every time Jackie thought she was finally starting to be done with this crazy white girl she just had to go and do something so unexpected, so...sweet! God dammit!

"Jes' ta check, though...if'n Ah tell ya yer place is ridin' wit' me," another sidelong glance, and a sly smile, "or, mebbe, in bet wit me? Y'gonna get tired o' hearin' that?"

"Not gonna get tired of kickin' yer ass for it," Jackie grumbled, fighting a smile. "Er any of the other million things I've toldja I'm gonna kick yer ass fer. I've got a list y'know."
 
“A list, hey?” Sam laughed. “Yer gonna hafta show me that list, one of these days.” She took another swig. “Ah reckon th’ way Ah big th’ blankets is on there, though. An’ th’ way Ah snore?” She grinned at Jackie’s expression. “Ah knew it! Ah ain’t gotta worry ‘bout you kickin’ mah ass, girl. Jes’ ‘bout you smotherin’ me in mah sleep.”

Digging into the bag, she handed over part of the cheese and the crackers. “Still, Ah reckon y’got a point. Ain’t never thought much ‘bout some o’ the laws ‘bout Injuns an’ colored folk. Never really had to, y’know?” She chewed down a cracker before continuing. “Course, Ah was jes a bit wrapped up in mah own head. Guess Ah’ll have ta start, an’ we’ll jes hafta keep an eye out fer places an’ folk what ain’t like that.” She shot Jackie a playful grin. “Otherwise, Ah reckon mah fists l’ll real damn tired real damn fast.”

Slicing off some cheese, she made a bit of a sandwich out of it. “Is it jes’ us white folk y’had problems with, though?” She looked up, catching Jackie’s eye once more. “Didn’t seem like y’had many friends back home, after all. Even them women you were with. They...” she tried to figure how to say it. “They, well, they didn’t ever seem ta wanna be there when th’ sun rose.” Then, suddenly, she shook her head. “No, Ah’m sorry. Ah, well...”. Morosely, she leaned against Silver’s saddle. “When this is all done,” she sighed, “we outta find us a place that ain’t gonna be bothered by seein’ us together.”
 
"Who said you'd be asleep?" Jackie groused. She was good at staying mad, even when a girl was being cute...but Sam was different. She couldn't stay mad at her, even when she wanted to, and that scared her as much as it pissed her off. Her irritation was ameliorated a bit both by the snack and by Sam admitting that she hadn't been thinking about the law because she'd never had to. At least she understood that she didn't understand. "And that's your privilege, never having to have thought about it," she said with a shrug, "but we can't fight everyone, Sam, much as I'd like ta try. Most places that're okay with folks like us are run by other coloreds, and there's never any guarantee that you'd be welcome there. Whites always bring trouble with 'em. Hell, lookit the trouble you got me into; shoulda left you to the buzzards." It was a joke, one repeated several times, that Jackie should have just left Sam out in the desert, but there was some truth to the logic behind it. She had never met a white person who didn't have some sort of trouble attached to them.

Then Sam started to ask about the girls back home. Should've seen that coming. "When this is all done," Sam sighed, "we oughtta find us a place that ain't gonna be bothered by seein' us together."

Jackie laughed shortly. "Good luck," she snorted. "We're gonna be lookin' long and hard to ever find a place like that. As for the folks back home..." She shrugged. "It's a small village and I ain't exactly friendly. Pretty sure you just stayed outta pure cussedness. I grew up with them folks, and I didn't want them there as much as they didn't wanna be there, trust me. They wanted status and they got it, I wanted an orgasm and I got it...most of the time, anyway." She took a deep breath and sighed. "I'm a half-breed, Sammy, and if yer gonna stick around y'gotta get used to the fact that even if we could find some magical fairy land where we could be together without no one botherin' us, I don't belong nowhere. Ma had to fight the tribe ta keep my Daddy around and I was just sorta grandfathered in, and those girls tortured me when we were little because kids are cruel, snot-nosed little shits. But they made it pretty clear: whites don't want me and the tribe only tolerates me. Ain't no place for couples like us, ain't no place for people like me. So get used to fightin', coz we're gonna have to do a lot of it, but if yer gonna stick around yer gonna have to learn ta pick your battles. Coloreds only line ain't one of 'em, 'less I'm hot 'n tired 'n sore 'n just plain cussed like I am today."

Jackie removed her hat and wiped the sweat from her brow with her sleeve then replaced it and looked at Sam. It didn't make sense for Sam to stick around, not after they'd taken care of Beckett; this whole interracial thing was more trouble than it was worth. But she found herself hoping she'd stay anyway. It was a disturbing thought...but one she was slowly getting used to. "And y'don't go tellin' no one we're married, neither; that's just gonna make it worse. Folks like to assume I'm a Imjin whore so they don't gotta think of me like a person, and it's best ta just let 'em think that. Marryin' me's probably worse to them than you stickin yer dick in a dog, and that's just a reality yer gonna haveta get used to." She thought on that for a second, then nodded. That was probably about what it was like for them, she figured. "You white girls are just more trouble'n yer worth," she added, looking slyly sideways at Sam then winking. "Maybe after this we kin go back to Night Vale. They didn't seem too bothered by us much."

After a long pause and a sip of her Coke Jackie looked at her companion, then glanced at the sun beginning to sink toward the horizon. They hadn't gotten as much done today as she'd hoped. Still, Sam was at least getting help that she needed and LaMonte hadn't dismissed them out of hand just because Sam was a two-spirit.

"Since yer a known miscegenist now anyway," she said with a bit of a smirk, "what say we go find us some dark brown sugar, hm? Supper and a show sounds awful good, don't it?"
 
Sam found herself fuming as Jackie described the treatment she’d received growing up. It made any grief she’d gotten as a girl look pretty tame by comparison, even counting in the preacher and the boy who’d tried to rape her. Her brothers might have given her shit, but they sure as hell hadn’t let anyone else do it. “And y'don't go tellin' no one we're married, neither.”

She jerked her attention back. “What?”

“That’s just gonna make it worse,” Jackie explained.

“Really?” she asked, confusion clear in her voice. “Ah reckoned folk’d take it better, on account o’ how they keep callin you a whore an’ all. Thought sayin’ y’was an honest woman’d make it better.”

Jackie’s response was patient, like she was explaining things to a child. “Folks like to assume I'm a Imjin whore so they don't gotta think of me like a person, and it's best ta just let 'em think that. Marryin' me's probably worse to them than you stickin yer dick in a dog, and that's just a reality yer gonna haveta get used to."

“Ah ain’t gonna...” Sam snarled, suddenly angry at, Well, at the whole damned world, really. “Ah stalwart, Jackie, Ah’ll...”

“You white girls are just more trouble'n yer worth," Jackie added, looking slyly sideways and winking. It was the perfect response. Setting Sam to laughing despite herself. "Maybe after this we kin go back to Night Vale. They didn't seem too bothered by us much."

“Yeah, maybe,” Sam agreed. “Ah dunno, though. Sommat ‘bout that place was weird.“

After a long pause and a sicp of her Coke Jackie looked at her companion, then glanced at the sun beginning to sink toward the horizon. “Since yer a known miscegenist now anyway," she said with a bit of a smirk, "what say we go find us some dark brown sugar, hm? Supper and a show sounds awful good, don't it?"

“Is ‘Miss Jenny’s sis’ some kinda slang fer dykes?” Sam laughed. “But yeah, let’s do that.”



They found a stable they could leave the horses at, not too far from the address Alice had written out for them. To make it easier, Sam dropped Jackie off outside Alice’s place first - a little house converted into apartments, then took care of the horses and walked back. Together, the two women went up the stairs and knocked on the door. Alice opened it a crack, smiled, then closed it and riddled with the locks. “Come on in,” she said, opening it wide. “It ain’t much, but yer welcome to share.”

The apartment was a little two-room thing, made up of a small kitchen with a table and then a living room with a wardrobe and a Murphy bed. “Kinda crowded,” Alice added, throwing the locks on the door, but it’s got its own shower, so that’s better than a flophouse right there. So..” she draped an arm around Jackie’s shoulder, pressing up against her back. “You an’ yer fellah hungry?”
 
"Miscegenist," Jackie repeated slowly, laughing. "Ain't slang. It's a hoity-toity word for a white girl who likes her some sweet Brownie cunt." She grinned. "Alright, so any white who shacks up with someone who ain't the right color. Technically cross-breedin' at all, but the law just figures if yer brown yer brown and it don't matter none if two brown folks have a baby. But we can't go droppin' no black ink in that nice white paint, can we?" She spat before nibbling on more cheese. The crackers were nice but made her mouth dry. "A dyke's just a dyke."

~*~

Jackie tried not to look too conspicuous as she leaned against the door frame while she waited for Sam. In this part of town, however, she didn't get too many second looks. Most of the folks coming in and out of the building and passing her on the street were black. Sure, she was the only Indian she saw, but at least she wasn't the raisin in the vanilla pudding, so to speak. She leaned heavily on Sam as they made their way up the stairs, her ankle throbbing as she tried to keep her weight off of it. Had it really been only a few days? And how long had Tulley said it was going to take to heal? Weeks? This was just untenable.

Seeing Alice, however, distracted her a little bit from the pain. Her smile was warm and the apartment was small but comfortable. It reminded her a little of the hogan she shared with her mother, except the hogan didn't have a shower. When the waitress draped an arm around her shoulder and pressed against her she grinned.

"We could eat," she said, tilting her head to look at her and lightly stroking the back of Alice's hand with her fingertips when she found their noses very close together. It wouldn't be too far to lean in to kiss her, but the chase was itself worth the wait. "And I got me a bum ankle...maybe there's somewheres I can sit and you can make it feel a little better?"
 
“Reckon we could eat at that,” Alice grinned, shivering a little at the touch of Jackie’s fingers. “Got me a healthy appetite, I do. But we outta take care of that ankle, first.” Sliding one hand over Jackie’s shoulder and along one arm, she laced her dark fingers with Jackie’s copper-brown one’s and led her back into the living room. “Ain’t much furniture,” she said, gripping a handle and handle and swinging the Murphy bed out and down. “But yer welcome to use whatever you like.”

Sitting Jackie down on the mattress, she perched beside Jackie and worked her boots off. “And n’t kidding,” she whistled, rolling Jackie’s jeans up and running her dark fingers over her calves before examining the bandage wrapped around her ankle. “Bet Ah can mak it feel better, though,” she added, beginning to knead the muscle above the bandage. Then she glanced over at Sam, who was leaning against the doorframe. “Y’don’t mind, do you? If Ah make yer girl feel better?”

Sam smiled at that. “Nope. But Ah warn you, it kin take a whole lotta work.” Her smile turned into a toothy grin. “Hours an’ hours, sometimes.”

Alice smiled back. “Oh, Ah ain’t worried.” She leaned against Jackie, letting the Indian woman feel her high, firm breasts through the thin cotton dress she wore. “Yer lucky,” she added, hands still massaging and caressing her calf. “Some fellas get all in a rush, speed things up.” She glanced back at Sam. “Or they get all crazy jealous, watchin’ someone else takin’ care o’ their lady.”

“Not me,” Sam replied. “Long as Ah kin see what yer doin’, anyhow. Ah do like ta watch a lady who knows how ta treat Jackie right.”

Alice bit her lip. “Gotta lotta tension in yer leg,” she told Jackie. “If Ah kin get these jeans offa you, Ah kin do a whole lot more.”
 
Jackie leaned a little more on Alice than was strictly necessary as she led her into the living room, sliding an arm around her waist and resting a hand on her hip as they made their way around the little apartment. She let her fingers trail along the side of her flank as the waitress moved to the wall, gripping a set of handles and pulling the bed down. Sitting as close together as they were on the bed, Jackie could smell cinnamon and oranges on Alice's skin as she worked her boot off and rolled up her pant legs. She winced instinctively when her hands came close to her bad ankle though she never actually touched it and moaned when Alice started massaging her calf.

"God that feels good," she groaned, letting her head loll back and fall to the side so she could watch Sam where she stood in the doorway. Alice leaned against her and she let her arm fall again on her hip, enjoying the feel of her breasts through the thin dress as she worked her hands over her calf. "Nah I lucked out," she agreed. "Sammy here's real open 'bout who gets ta touch his woman s'long's he can keep an eye on 'em. Ain't that right?" Jackie grinned at her lover, wondering how long they could keep up the charade just so she could see the look on Alice's face when she found out.

At the waitress's suggestion, Jackie carefully shimmied out of her jeans and let them fall to the floor. With her lower half exposed, however, she felt weirdly unbalanced. It was a risk at rushing things, but she wanted to try her hand at it anyway...

"Well now I feel a might drafty," she teased. "Gotta wash this old thing anyway...mind if I leave it with the jeans?" She indicated her shirt and glanced over at Sam, hoping she was enjoying the show. If she were entirely honest with herself, Sam just standing there watching was weirdly enough a major turn-on.
 
“That’s right,” Sam agreed, watching Alice help Jackie get her jeans off. “Ah sure do like ta watch mah girl have herself a good time.” The whole thing -the word play, Jackie’s half-naked body, the hungry way Alice looked at her, even the way Algernon e thought she was a man - all of it can nspired to make her feel hotter than hell. No matter what happened, she was going to need to change, too. Damn if watching all this hadn’t made her soak her drawers.

“That does feel better,” Alice purred, her dark hand caressing Jackie’s nut-brown thigh. “Don’t you agree?”

Well now I feel a might drafty," Jackie teased. "Gotta wash this old thing anyway...mind if I leave it with the jeans?" She indicated her shirt, and both women glanced over at Sam. She nodded, biting her lower lip as she did.

“Lemme help you with that,” Alice insisted, slowly running her hands up Jackie’s thighs and over her belly, gently cupping her breasts and leaving her palms there as she worked at the buttons. “Yer fellah’s expectin’ me ta take good care of you, after all.” Smiling wickedly she shifted, letting her skirts ride high up on her legs as she straddled Jackie’s thighs. “Y’don’t mind, Ah hope?” she asked, lightly rubbing her crotch against Jackie as she undid the rest of the buttons. “She not it’s easier this way, ta get ‘em off.”
 
"Well, you're takin' real good care of me so far," Jackie agreed as Alice unbuttoned her shirt, cupping her breasts as she did so. She raised her eyebrows in surprise when the waitress straddled her lap, then grinned hungrily.

"Y'don't mind, Ah hope?" she asked, lightly rubbing her crotch against Jackie as she undid the rest of the buttons. "She not it's easier this way, ta get 'em off."

"I could think of easier ways," Jackie teased, letting her hands rest on the backs of Alice's thighs, "but I don't mind this way one bit, sugar." Her hands slid up Alice's smooth, shapely thighs, up to her rear where she was pleasantly surprised to discover she wasn't wearing much in the way of drawers. It was with regret she took her hands away to let Alice slide her shirt down her shoulders and off, dropping it with the rest of her clothes, before replacing them and squeezing the waitress's rear gently.

"Now lookit me sittin' here all casual-like," she teased, smiling as she slid one hand around the back of Alice's thigh, between her legs, "and you're still all dressed up from work. That can't be comfortable." One finger slid lightly along her pussy from behind, pleased to find her slick with want. "Y'oughtta slip into somethin' more comfy, honey."
 
Alice let her head lean back, arching her back to accentuate her pert breasts as Jackie’s fingers traced her lips. “Reckon Ah could be just a bit more comfortable,” she agreed in a husky whisper. Her hands kid up her stomach and over her chest, flaunting herself for Jackie and Sam both as she undid each button in turn. Tossing the shirt aside, clad only in her skirt, she leaned forward and looked Nyerere over Jackie’s lips. “You taste good,” she murmured. “Ah could taste you all night.”

Sam watched hungrily as Alice slid along her lover’ body, exploring her flesh with lips and tongue and fingers. Fuck, she wanted the black woman, wanted to be sandwiched between her and Jackie. Wanted to grab those long braids and pull then, use them like reins as she fucked them both with Jackie’s toy. Hell, wet and horny as she was, she’d be happy to just open her pants and finger herself to an orgasm as she watched. Instead, she watched as Alice slid to her knees between Jackie’s thighs. Watched as Alice’s slick tongue caressed the slicker lips of Jackie’s cunt.

“Damn if you don’t taste as good as you look,” Alice breathed. Then she looked over at Sam, crooks by a finger. “Why don’t you come over here, show me how your woman likes you to go down on her.”

“Reckon Ah can do that,” Sam drawled, strolling across the room and kneeling next to her. Alice watched as Sam spread Jackie open with her fingers, then lap at her folds before sucking gently on her clit. Soon both women were attending to her, then Nguyen’s car swing sensitive flesh while black and white fingers stroked and thrust within her. More than once the two women kissed, exploring the mingle flavors on lips and tongues before returning to Jackie once more.

“Goddamn your woman tastes good on you,” Alice groaned, a hand slick with Jackie’s juices tangling in Sam’s shaggy blonde hair as she pulled back from a deep kiss. “Ah can’t wait to see how you taste in her.”
 
"Ah could taste you all night," Alice murmured against her lips. Jackie smirked, sliding one finger inside her slowly, experimentally, testing the limits and just how fast sweet miss Alice wanted to move tonight.

Faster than most girls, it seemed. Jackie groaned in anticipation and propped herself up on her elbows to watch as Alice slid to her knees and bit her lip when she slid her tongue along her slick crease. She grinned at Alice's assessment and looked over at Sam when she called her over. Her eyes took in Sam hungrily as she strolled across the room, appreciating the way she walked, the way her hips rolled as she swaggered, and held her gaze as she knelt down next to Alice. Still propped up on her elbows, she let her head hang back and moaned as both women attended to her, licking and sucking, sliding their fingers in and out. The pleasure was overwhelming. Normally she was one of the ones on her knees, and she had to admit the change of pace was very nice.

"Goddamn your woman tastes good on you," Alice groaned, one hand tangling in Sam's hair to pull her into a deep kiss then pulling back. "Ah can't wait to see how you taste in her."

"Well hang on now," Jackie protested with a smile, sliding a hand to Sam's shoulder. "I always get first dibs, y'know," she teased. "C'mere, baby." She tugged on Sam's shoulder to pull her up with her and pulled one knee to the other side of her head. With a wink she pulled down Sam's zipper and slid her jeans and drawers down over her hips. "Can't let you go wantin', can I? What kinda woman would I be then?" With a grin, careful to keep Sam's front out of Alice's view because she thought that the revelation would truly be hilarious, she leaned forward and gripped Sam's hips, pulling her against her face. She groaned as she sucked at Sam's clit, pulling her against her face again. God she tasted good!
 
“Can't let you go wantin', can I?” Jackie asked. “What kinda woman would I be then?"

“Same kind y’always been,” Sam replied, lifting her hips so Jackie could ease her jeans down. “Th’ kind that gets off on makin’ me beg.” Her breath shortened as Jackie’s mouth hovered over her mound, and she bit her lip as a soft tongue traced her slit. Then, with a cry of pleasure, she let her head sag back onto the mattress as Jackie’s hands gripped her hips and she began sucking at her clit. “Fuck,” she moaned, hips rising with the intensity of her lover’s attention. “Gawd, y’ always know how ta fuck me...”

Jackie’s tongue worked deeper and Sam gripped the covers tightly, whimpering with pleasure and tossing her head. Alice, she saw vaguely, had crawled up on the bed for a better look herself. She knelt and stared hungrily, skirts hitched up and one hand moving between her legs as the other cupped a shapely brien breast. “Come here,” Sam managed, crooning a finger at their host. “Ain’t fair AH! Me... gettin all th’ attention...”

Alice nodded, licking her lips. “All right,” she managed, crawling forward. “But Ah still want a taste o’ you, once yer lady’s finished.”

Sam nodded, then sighed as her view was cut off by smooth brown legs and a smooth brown ass. She opened her mouth, drinking in the musky scent of Alice’s arousal and then tasting her. The black woman gasped as Sam’s tongue caressed her clit, and Sam moaned at the feel of strong fingers digging into her belly “Oh, fuck,” Alice moaned, shifting a little to open herself wider. “Fuck, yes...”. Gasping herself as she felt her orgasm build, Sam nipped at the waitress’ clit and then sucked at it.

Alice gasped, nails taking lines over Sam’s stomach as she jerked. “Gawd,” she moaned, staring down at the Indian sucking her man off. “Gawd, make him cum in yer mouth. Ah wanna taste him on you.”
 
Brown fingers not her own slid into Jackie's view as she teased Sam's clit with the tip of her tongue. Looking up with her eyes she saw Alice straddling Sam's face and moaned. She slid her own hands up to join the waitress's, then up her arms and down to cup her breasts as she redoubled her efforts on Sam. Her tongue slid inside her, only just teasing her entrance since she couldn't move her mouth without giving away the rouse, before returning her full attention to her clit. She was almost there, Jackie could feel it.

"Gawd, make him cum in yer mouth," Alice groaned. "Ah wanna taste him on you."

Jackie grinned into Sam's wet pussy. Oh was she about to get a surprise. Still, she saw no reason to disappoint either of them. With one hand still massaging Alice's breast she slipped the other between Sam's legs, where Alice couldn't see it, to slide two fingers inside her lover. Turning her hand she crooked her fingers, massaging her wet slit as she moved her fingers in and out while her tongue furiously worked her clit. She moaned against Sam, closing her eyes and silently begging her to cum.
 
Sam gasped, hips bucking in the air as Jackie’s fingers filled her. Rick if it wasn’t getting hard to concentrate on Alice and trying to get her off, what with Jackie’s tongue on her clit and her fingers massaging her inner walls. She whimpered a little, rocking her hips against Jackie’s mouth and hand, trying to fuck herself on her lover as her tongue explored Alice eagerly. The sound of the dark woman’s moans and just made her lick and suck harder.

“Oh... FUCK!” Alice exclaimed, pressing her palms into Sam’s stomach and spreading herself wider, letting Sam’s tongue work deeper. She threw her head back, then stared hungrily down at Jackie. “Fuck... yer fella-AH! Yer... fellah’s... good at... at...”. Her breath was coming in ragged gasps, chest heaving and breasts swaying, hips grinding on Sam’s mouth. “Oh... oh fuck... Ah.. Ah’m... FUCK!” Her fingernails raked red lines on Sam’s stomach as she climaxed.

The feel of Alice’s cunt pulsing in her tongue and dripping down her face combined with Jackie’s attentions to send Sam over the edge. She moaned into Alice, hips moving against Jackie’s mouth and hand, swearing incoherently as pleasure wracked her lean body. Alice half-slid, half-collapsed to the bed beside her as the last tremors of her orgasm ashes through her. “Gawd,” she gasped, trying to catch her breath, “Ah think y’all done broke me.”

“Well,” Alice giggled, “Ah guess yer gal an’ me will jes’ have ta do something ‘bout that.” Her dark hand lazily caressed Sam’s stomach, sliding lower. “Cause after watchin’ her take care o’ you, Ah wanna... ride...”. Her voice trailed off as her hand slid between Sam’s thighs and she felt spit and cum slick folds beneath her fingers. Confusion was the bivouac on her face as she pushed up on one arm, looking. “Well,” she said, laughing. “Guess Ah ain’t goin’ fer a ride after all.”

“Ah dunno,” Sam laughed as well. “Jackie’s done got some ideas about that...”
 
Jackie grinned into Sam's soaked pussy, enjoying the view as Alice's heavy breasts swayed over her. Her hands moved from Sam's hips to Alice's hands, pinning them down to the mattress after her hands raked up Sam's stomach, exposing the flesh and nearly exposing her breasts. Certainly she wasn't the most well-endowed, but it would have given the game away just a little too early. She wanted her lover to get off first.

Sam's walls clenched around her fingers as she went hurtling over that cliff of pleasure. Jackie licked her fingers slowly as Alice collapsed onto the bed, leaning on her elbows as she kissed a line from Sam's pelvis up her stomach then fell onto her side, her ankle starting to ache.

"Gawd," Sam gasped, trying to catch her breath, "Ah think y'all done broke me."

"Well," Alice giggled, "Ah guess yer gal an' me will jes' have ta do something 'bout that." Their dark fingers met over her stomach as the waitress's fingers slid lower. "Cause after watchin' her take care o' you, Ah wanna...ride..." Confusion then comprehension dawned and Jackie grinned. "Well," she said, laughing. "Guess Ah ain't goin' fer a ride after all."

"Ah dunno," Sam laughed as well. "Jackie's done got some ideas about that..."

"Gimme a sec babe," Jackie protested weakly. "Got a bum leg, remember?" She looked over at Alice on Sam's other side and grinned. "I mean, y'know how they say never send a woman ta do a man's job. S'really more like y'can't trust a man ta do a woman's job, can ya?"
 
“That really depends on the man, don’t it?” Alice laughed. “Ah mean, sure. Mosta then ain’t worth gettin’ worked up about, in or outta bed. But there’s a few...”

“Y’ainn’t gonna convince her,” Sam laughed as well. “She ain’t got no use fer men.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Alice chuckled. “Right up until a minute or so anyhow.”

“Did fool you,” Sam corrected. “Right up until a minute ago.”

“True enough.” Alice propped herself up on one arm, looking up along Sam’s half-clothed body. “Why, though? Ah mean, y’all had me pegged as a gal who liked th’ ladies.”

“Cos it was hot as hell,” Sam replied. “An’, in mah line o’ work, it’s easier ta be taken fer a man. So Ah don’ usually correct folk.”

Alice nodded, then reached over Sam’s hips and poked Jackie in the shoulder. “You an’ yer bum leg rested up? Cause Ah reckon Ah’m curious ‘bout these ideas o’ yers.”
 
Jackie shrugged and chuckled. "It was hot," she admitted, "but I mostly was in it to see the look on yer face. Y'don't disappoint, girl." She rolled onto her side, pulling Sam close and adjusting so she was able to look at both of the other women. "Folks don't like me goin' 'round with a white man anyhow, I reckon we'd both get it even worse if they saw me goin' 'round with a white woman. Easier fer her, safer fer me, fun when we find someone who don't mind too much either way."

Alice nodded, then reached over Sam's hips and poked Jackie in the shoulder. "You an' yer bum leg rested up? Cause Ah reckon Ah'm curious 'bout these ideas o' yers."

"Damn, woman," Jackie complained, pushing herself into a sitting position. "Ain't even got off yet and yer after me fer more. You gonna run me ragged, the both of y'all." She waved dismissively at them before scooting off of the bed and digging in her pack for the strap-on.

~*~

Across town as night fell a group of shadowy figures formed a perimeter around a cozy, white-washed two story house with a sign out front. They had tracked the Ranger here, but there was still a light glowing in a window on the second floor. It would be better to wait for now...
 
Slowly, Sam reallized she was no longer asleepx

She should be, of course. After the amount of time that she and Jackie and Alice had spent fucking each other, she should be exhausted. Exhausted, and sleeping a deep dreamless sleep. But here she was, wrapped in a thin blanket with Jackie’s warm back pressed against her side, staring up at the Dark ceiling. Why the hell was she awake?

...the dead walk...

The voice was a whisper, barely more than a suggestion of words. A figment of her imagination, surely? But she found herself catching her breath, straining to understand what she thought she was hearing.

...the dead walk...

Slowly, careful not to wake Jackie (or Alice, for that matter), Sam climbed out of the narrow bed. Once she was out, Jackie shifted and moved, trying to find her. Sam hesitated, aching to rejoin her lover, then found her clothes and dressed silently. Her boots were last, donned in the tiny kitchen after closing the door behind her.

What am I doing? she wondered, sitting at the table and staring out the window.

...the dead walk...

Not stopping to think further, Sam grabbed a tin plate from a cupboard and a pitcher of water. Then, as if watching herself move, she opened her saddle bag and drew out a sack. A small handful of ash went into the plate, and then a little water. “Death I make, singing,” she called in a whisper, mixing the ashes into a paste, “Heh-yeh! heh-yeh! heh-yeh! heh-yeh! Bones I hack, singing heh-yeh! heh-yeh! heh-yeh! heh-yeh!”

Carefully, she smeared the paste around her eyes, feeling the damp grit scrape her skin. “Death I make, singing! Heh-yeh! heh-yeh! heh-yeh! heh-yeh!”

Eyes closed, she sat in the dark kitchen a moment. Then she opened them, unsurprised now to see the dead Rangers standing before her. They appeared much the way they had in life, exc pt that they were pale and their clothes were stained with blood. Lieutenant Branson extended his hand. “The dead walk, ma’am,” he said. “We can show you where.”

-*-

Bart locked his lips, staring at the house before then. “Y’sure this is th’ place?”

Pete Drucker nodded. “Yep. Saw that skinny blonde bastard an’ his Injun whore here earlier.”

“Why didn’t y’jes’ grab him then?” asked Slim Jim, spitting a gob of tobacco juice. He couldn’t taste it any longer, but habits died hard.

“That Ranger’s a tough one,” Pete snapped. “Scrawny, but he beat three hands stupid and chucked Bart here outta train.” He shook his head. “Beckett wants him, so we’re gonna do this right.”

Bart chewed his lip, not sure if he was relieved or confused that they thought Sam was a guy. And a Ranger. How the he’ll couldn’t they tell? “So,” he asked, trying to stall, “why we here, then?”

“The doctor in there ain’t no real doctor,” Pete sniggered. “Jes’ a French gal puttin’ on airs. Be easier ta make her tell us where th’ Ranger went, then ta hunt him down ourselves.” He nodded. “Do it.”

Big Sven, a mountain of a Swede who’d once knocked a bull out, nodded in return. Then, raising a booted foot, he kicked the front door in. A score of the undead followed, grinning evilly.
 
There had been at least ten of them. Anne Marie had seen them through the window of the darkened kitchen when she'd gone to make tea and had delayed turning on the light to give herself a better look. What ten very large men wanted with her in the middle of the night she wasn't certain, but she had the suspicion they didn't want to talk about their latent oedipal complexes. While the kettle was on she moved from the kitchen to the spare room and with some effort moved the thick, heavy metal table into the hallway before turning it on its side to blockade the stairs. The electroshock machine was next on its wheeled trolley, perched on the landing for easy pushing. There were certain sacrifices which needed to be made, after all, in the name of bodily safety. The machine could be replaced; the sanctity of her bodily autonomy--and possibly her life--could not.

She poured the tea but left it on the counter while she went downstairs to double check the locks on the door and windows, moving quickly and making sure not to linger too long at any one window but counting. Eight...nine...twenty men in all surrounded her home. Undead or not, this Beckett seemed to have sent his thugs after the last place Samantha had been seen. Anne Marie couldn't think of a better reason twenty large men had been sent to deal with one nonthreatening-looking foreign woman. Well, maybe the sanitariums had discovered all of the patients she had been denying them...Either way, she had no intention of allowing them to do to her whatever they had planned. At a second thought she grabbed from a shelf in her office the heavy bust which had nearly brained her this afternoon and carried it back upstairs with her, stepping carefully back over the table. She set the bust down on the landing and dragged the chair from the electroshock room to the landing as well before moving back into her own bedroom. The rapier probably looked ridiculous over her satin nightgown, but if the pistol and club--well, she thought of it as a club but it was really something called a baseball bat--weren't enough against the impending hoard she would rather be unstylish than weaponless. She could hold her own in a one-on-one fight against women and slight men, but not these if their hulking outlines were anything to go by. Finally she made a show of closing the windows in her own room before turning out the light and returning to the hallway to sit in her chair and wait.

She didn't have to wait long. To Anne Marie's great disappointment she had only managed a few sips of tea before the door burst open. She jumped at the noise, despite herself, and quickly scurried into the kitchen to set her tea on the counter before they could discover the stairs. No sense in wasting perfectly good tea if she survived this, after all. She intended to survive, but Algernon had mainly focused on assassination in Anne Marie's upbringing, and had only briefly touched on siege defense simply because neither of them expected to be in such a situation very often; at least, not alone. Heavy boots moved through the downstairs, almost certainly scuffing up her floors where they were uncarpeted, before a voice signaled and they all seemed to have found the stairs.

Anne Marie knew she should have waited on the bust almost as soon as it left her hands. It hit its mark, caving in the face of the first man to attempt coming up the steps with a sickening crunch and splatter of blood and brains, and knocked him back into his comrades, sending the four of them tumbling back down. But the others simply clambered over their bodies and continued towards her. She managed to duck beneath the table just in time for a bullet to go whizzing past her head. The table absorbed another, but only barely: the dent was so severe she could see the tip of the bullet poking through. So it wouldn't be as reliable a shield as she had hoped, but so long as she kept her distance from the actual metal it should work. For now.

The strategy was to pop up quickly to shoot then duck back down. Several times she saw her bullets hit their mark, but either they had on some armor beneath their clothes or they just didn't feel it. Once Anne Marie saw a plume of blood and heard the choking noise of one being caught in the throat and that seemed to slow him down...but it didn't kill him. Were these men on some sort of drug which allowed them to ignore their pain? It was an interesting question but not one for the present moment. Once she had expended all six bullets Anne Marie chucked the gun over the table and saw one particularly large fellow ignore it when it caught him squarely on the temple and keep advancing while she retreated to her bedroom and lock the door. It was a sheer drop if she tried escaping that way, so that was no good.

"Alright, you bastards," she growled at the door, wielding the bat in her strong hand and rapier in her off-hand as one sounded like he was battering his shoulder against the door. "Don't think I'm not going without a fight." What a tragedy, to die so many thousands of miles away from Algie and home. Would he cry, she wondered?
 
It was a reversal of the roles they’d all held the last time she rode with the Rangers. Then, they had been the ones riding on a mission of justice and she had been the tracker and pathfinder they’d employed. Now, even though she had a feeling she knew where the dead walked, the Rangers led and she followed.

Silver snorted uneasily beneath her, and she patted the stallion’s grey shoulder. He didn’t much like the presence of the dead Rangers or their steeds, gaunt, coal-black horse’s with eyes of flame. But he was well trained, and they'd been together for years. If she had to, she could count on him to carry her into hell and back.

And she just might.

“Up ahead,” Branson said at her left. “At the...”

“The doctor’s house,” Sam finished for him. It was the only place in town that made any sense, except for Alice’s apartment. “Jes’ wish Ah’d had me some time ta cast some silver bullets.”

“If you’d done what we said...” Branson began, but the wraith cut off as Sam wheeled on him.

“Jes’ you remember,” she snapped, “Ah’m a-doin’ this ‘cause it needs doin’! Not ‘cause y’tols me ta do it.” She glared at him, eyes hard behind her ash mask. “Try an’ cgange that, an’ Ah’ll chuck yer mortal remains in th’ nearest creek an’ me an’ Jackie’ll go our merry way. Y’got that?”

Branson hesitated, then nodded.

“Good.” She stared a moment longer, then gave a tight grin. “Now. Ah reckon Ah gotta plan...”

-*-

“Jes’ a French gal puttin’ on airs, huh?” Bart laughed, watching Pete cough up the bullet he’d caught in the throat. “Hate ta think what a French girl who was right serious ‘bout this could do.”

“I’m going to fuck that bitch hard,” Pete snarled. “She’s going to regret...”

“The devil you are,” scoffed Slim Jim. He sounded a little distracted, mostly because he was massaging his skull back into shape. “Ain’t none of us able ta get it up.”

“More wats ta fuck a French whore than with yer dick,” Pete snapped. “I’m going to get creative on the cunt. You lot got that door open yet?”

“She’s barricaded it!” Sven called down the stairs. “We’re working on taking it down now!”

“Right. Work ha...”. The last of his sentence was cut off by a bullet slamming into his head and the near-simultaneous report of a hand gun. As he hit the ground Bart and Slim Jim wheeled with drawn guns, only to stagger and fall as more bullets hit them.

“Fuck,” Bart grumbled, staggering back to his feet. “Who the hell...?” Something slammed into his skull, offering him the first bit of sensation he’d felt in over a year. Sadly, that sensation was pain.

-*-

Sam hit her brother with the silver nugget a second time, for good measure. Four of the Rangers were kicking the crap out of the other two, spectral boots slamming into the souls trapped in dead flesh. She didn’t reckon it would hold them much longer than bullets would, but it kept the undead occupied.

She took the stairs two at a time, then kept sideways as a big Swede lunged at her. The nugget slammed into the back of his head, sending him tumbling awkwardly down the steps. Not watching him go, she drew her revolver and emptied the cylinder into the men battering at a door with a hat rack. “Hey, Doc?” she called as she began reloading. “Ah’m here ta help you. Try not ta shoot me, all right?”
 
Anne Marie had had the presence of mind to push her bookcase and her bed against the door as best she could, and was grateful as she watched part of the bolt at the top splinter as the door was rammed again. The report of a gun downstairs was surprising, to say the least; why didn't they save it for when they got the door down? Or had they turned on each other already? Backing against the window she looked around for anything she might be able to use to climb down. Her mind cast wistfully to the rope she had fashioned out of dresses Gustav had left bloodied and shredded which she had used to help Maurice down from her balcony...but that had been burned years ago and she hadn't time to make another. Not with the door itself beginning to crack.

She jumped at the report of a gun right outside the door. Anne Marie could have been knocked over with a feather to hear the voice of the unusual patient she had treated that afternoon. Here to...? Well, she supposed she didn't really have any other options, did she?

"I'm afraid I am out of ammunition," she called back through the door, "and pistol, since I chucked it at them once it was empty. I'm afraid this is a dead-end, though. You've come to help me for nothing." She cast about again in desperation and, tucked away next to the wardrobe, was a whip. Anne Marie had taken up briefly with a rancher when she had first arrived and he had taught her how to wield a bullwhip as both weapon and tool. That might give them enough of a length to get down. "Is there anything I can do to help?" she called through the door as she snatched up the whip then leaned the bat against the wall near her while she tied it to one of the window stays.
 
With a grunt, Sam grabbed the friskiest of the slowly reviving dead men and punched him right in a swirling vortex she could see at the base of his throat. He went limp, and she chucked him down the stairs. “Y’kin shift th’ barricade,” she called back, flipping open the cylinder on her revolver and shoving bullets in. “An’ it ain’t a damn dead end. Y’got a window, don’t yeh?”

Maybe it was the mask, or maybe she was just hallucinating more than ever, but each of the dead men seemed to have black lines flowing through them - dark “light” that flowed in through the skull and down through the spine, radiating out like roots. Whatever it was, it gave her a target. The dead men sure didn’t like getting hit in one of the nodes, as demonstrated by the next man reviving. He folded like a house of cards when she stomped hard on one.

There was a noise at the stairs. Turning, she saw the big Swede stumbling back up, blood dripping from a cracked skull that hadn’t healed right. Flipping the cylinder closed, she shit him through the nose over his heart. “Ah gotta get them silver bullets cast,” she grumbled as he collapsed and slid back down. “Hurry up!”

The door opened and the Doctor peered carefully through. “Jes’ me,” Sam grinned, kicking a dead man in the skull. Then she stepped in and helped push the bookcase back. “Sword an a whip?” she asked as it finally settled into place. “Yer really not what Ah expected from a doctor.”

With that she crossed the room and threw open the window. “C’m here, Silver!” she called, whistling loud with her fingers. “Y’got anythin’ y’need here, Doc?” she said over her shoulder. “Cause we’re about ta get th’ hell outta here.”
 
"Well correct me...if I'm wrong..." Anne Marie grunted as she started pulling apart the barricade, starting with the bed, "but a sprained...ankle...at the very least...wouldn't be the best...best way to get away, would it?" With one last mighty heave she managed the bookcase as well.

"Hurry up!" was the only reply.

"I'm trying!" She didn't like the frustration in her own voice. It showed a distinct lack of control. "It's called a barricade for a reason, and they've bent the bolt." Indeed the bolt was bent in its latch, but with some wiggling she managed to slide it back enough to unlatch the door and peek carefully through the crack. The sight of the man behind her, so badly mangled he ought to have been properly dead, was startling to say the least. As she stepped back her patient stepped in and she slammed the bolt home behind her before the two of them moved the bookcase back into place. Anne Marie managed the bed as well, though it wasn't as heavy as the shelf still full of books.

"Sword an' a whip?" she asked as the bookcase finally settled into place.

"I told you I was out of ammunition," Anne Marie replied defensively. "And I do have a club handy as well, if you are too." She gestured to the bat leaned up against the window.

"Yer really not what Ah expected from a doctor."

"Well, I did tell you that I'm not a doctor." She smiled coyly. Sam called 'Silver,' whom she could only imagine was her steed. Figuring that now it would be a much shorter drop and eyeing the post on which her sign hung, jutting out from the building and parallel to the ground, she untied the whip and looped it for now. When asked whether she had anything she needed, Anne Marie glanced about the room. Her eyes fell on the photo of herself and Algernon in their his home the night before she had left. There had been a going away party, a gesture which she had appreciated but she would have preferred a quiet evening alone with him. If he had asked her to stay, she would have. "Only one thing," she said, taking the photo from its frame and tucking it into the sword belt fastened around her silk night dress then crossing to the window.

"Apres vous," she offered, gesturing to the steed, "since he is your horse." She was a fine equestrian in her own right, but found it rude to try and commandeer an ally's ride. Once Sam was situated, she flicked the whip. Its end wrapped around the signpost and she swung down, landing smoothly on the horse behind Sam. Tugging the whip free, she quickly looped it then held on to Sam's waist. "Ride!"
 
Apres vous," she offered, gesturing to the steed, "since he is your horse."

“Right,” Sam agreed, glancing at the door and then out the window. “Here goes nothin’.” Then, before she could think about what a damnfool thing she was doing, she vaulted our the window and dropped onto Silver’s back. The horse chuffed, tossing his head as she hit and then scrambled into the saddle. And then the Doc landed behind her, swinging gracefully down on her bullwhip.

“Ride!” She called, coiling her whip.

Sam didn’t need to be told twice, not with a couple of the undead beginning to emerge from the house. She tugged her horse’s reins, wheeling him around as the dead Rangers energy fed from the house and vaulted onto their own spectral steeds. “Hi-yo, Silver!” she called. “Away!”

The grey stallion broke into a canter and then a gallop, hooves thundering on the hard-packed dirt of the street. Glancing back, she saw one of the undead raise a rifle, only to have it knocked aside by a figure that looked a lot like Bart. “Hang on,” she called back as she leaned forward over Silver’s neck. “We’re gonna make us a round-about rude ta where we’s stayin’, jes’ in case they got any funny ideas ‘bout followin’ us!”

-*-

“The hell, Bart?” Pete demanded, getting up in his face. “I nearly...”

“Beckett wanted this done discrete!” Bart snapped back, thinking fast. “You think firin’ off yer Winchester on th’ damn street counts?”

They stared at each other for a moment, Bart desperately hoping the other man didn’t wonder if there was any other reason he might have interfered. “Good point,” Pete finally agreed. Then he turned. “Horses, everyone. We’re gonna catch us that son of a bitch, and that French cunt!”
 
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