The Long Trail by Penny Hayes

Author:Penny Hayes [Hayes, Penny]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Fiction, Lesbian, Lesbians, Westerns, Frontier and Pioneer Life, Feminist Literature, Women Pioneers, Texas
ISBN: 9781594931963
Google: ItNaAAAAMAAJ
Amazon: 1594931968
Publisher: Naiad Press
Published: 1986-06-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Back in their room, Teresa said, “Matthew will miss you, whether he admits it or not.”

“He’s admitted it already,” Blanche replied, and tucked the envelope, unopened, into her suitcase. “I’ll write to Father soon, telling him I’ve received it. . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“Don’t you want to read it?” Teresa said, watching Blanche place some clothing over the letter.

“Later. I’m sure it’s just notes from everyone telling me what a mistake I’ve made. My separation from my family is complete now. There’s only the future to look forward to.”

Then, Blanche burst into tears.

Teresa crossed the room and led her weeping friend to the side of the bed. “It’s been a long day, Blanche,” she said softly. “Why don’t you get ready for bed?”

Teresa laid out her gown for her, then went to the window to pull the shade, and peeked out along its edge to watch the boisterous nightlife below while Blanche changed. Soon Teresa heard her say timidly, “All right.” Teresa turned to look at the frightened woman who had less idea than she of what the future held, in store.

A few minutes later, Teresa climbed into bed beside Blanche. Nude as usual, tonight she somehow felt shy, and she rose to don a gown of lighter weight than the heavy cotton Blanche wore. In bed again, Teresa turned the unprotesting Blanche toward her and held her all through the night, while her own heart raced wildly in her breast and her own breathing was a strain to control.

It was unbearably exciting to hold Blanche. As big as many of the men Teresa had slept with, Blanche still felt so. . . different. Not at all like holding a man with a body as hard as saddle leather — and just as unyielding. Blanche felt so ... wonderful, so ... soft. No, she was not like a man at all. Her body, as big as it was next to Teresa’s tiny frame, seemed to mold naturally and easily against her, filling the spaces between them, merging with Teresa as if they both had been carefully designed to fit together like two intricate pieces of a well-constructed clock.

And unlike the heavy sweating odor of the cowboy or the too-rich aftershave of the businessman, Blanche smelled good, a woman’s smell, emitting a faint musky odor from the long day. A pleasant, almost intoxicating odor. Teresa could feel the bigger woman’s large bosom pressing gently against her own, rising and falling in steady rhythm while she slept, Teresa knew, from tremendous emotional exhaustion. Teresa vowed again to make up to the woman in her arms the loss of family and friends and home.

Toward morning Teresa managed to fall asleep with Blanche’s head still resting comfortably in the crook of her arm, the other arm lying across her waist.

Throughout the rest of the week, Teresa kept a constant watch on the people around her, worried that Lattimer or Alexander Bartholomew or Steven Trusdale would show up and try to drag one of them back to Starcross.

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