Hogs are fine. We’ve cleared the pen and put down fresh straw. The fence was a bit worn in one area so we’ve repaired that too. Don’t want those valuable hogs escaping. But uh…when we let them back through they got a bit excited and uh…”
Grace started to laugh.
She couldn’t help it. It began deep in her belly and erupted from her mouth like a mountain spring. It sounded strange, hoarse, as if she hadn’t laughed in a long, long time. Blake joined in, the pig poop on his face cracking as he grinned. Grace doubled over and held her stomach, laughing until she was convinced she would faint. The hogs had knocked him over in the pen and by the state of him, trampled him into the ground. Well, serve him right. She’d warned them to be careful.
When she could finally catch her breath, she wiped her eyes and stood up straight.
“What about Mr Huntley? They get him too?”
Blake laughed. “He’s in the same state as me.”
She cleared her throat and breathed slowly, trying to suppress the laughter that the thought of Matt’s misfortune had conjured.
“There’s water in the barrel round the side of the barn. You can wash in that. I’ll bring you some rags to use as cloths.”
“Be mighty grateful for that, ma’am,” Blake replied.
As he walked gingerly away, Grace watched from the doorway. Even covered in muck, he was a fine figure of a man. His clammy union suit clung to his lean frame like a second skin. His shoulders were broad and strong, his waist was slim. She moved her eyes lower and her stomach flipped. His behind was rounded and firm, like two watermelon halves which moved up and down as he walked. He was gorgeous.
An unfamiliar warmth flooded her body. It started in her chest and travelled up her throat and into her head. Her cheeks glowed with its presence. Simultaneously, it moved down, tickling her stomach and curling like knowing fingers at the apex of her thighs. It made her want to follow Blake, to continue to watch him walking. And more. It made her think of what he would be like without his muck-covered clothing. Totally naked. Would the hair on his body be as black as that on his head?
She shook her head and dragged herself from the stoop. What was wrong with her? Was it because she had been so recently widowed that she had turned into…into what she could only think of as a wanton woman? Was this the female weakness that the preacher spoke of and that Jack had claimed he would beat out of her? If so, then they had been right. Her husband was barely cold and she was already allowing lust to take over her thoughts, her body and to lead her mind into wicked imaginings.
But as she moved through the room and rifled through a wooden chest at the far corner, searching for something to tear into cloths, she realised that she was not convinced. If these feelings were wicked then why did they feel so good? If it was wrong to appreciate a man’s form, then why make it so fine?
She was all churned up and confused. When she had been with Jack, at first, she had felt some stirrings but being married to him had soon obliterated any fire within her and left her numb. Marital relations were a hideous chore, something to be endured. So these sparks of desire that had been lit in her today, left her all balled up. Were her feelings wrong or was it society that had gotten it wrong?
None of it made sense.
But then for Grace, life rarely did.
****
Blake wandered back towards the pig pen where Matt was securing the gate. He smiled at the state that his companion was in. Like him, Matt was brown from tip to toe. The hogs had gotten them good and proper. Just like Mrs Holbein had warned them they would.
Blake knew that it had happened because they were being so careful with the creatures. In spite of Matt’s carefree appearance, Blake knew that he thought things through deeply. Already, Matt had assessed the widow Holbein, decided that she was no grizzly bear but a young woman in need and then made a silent decision to help her out. That was Matt. He could be fierce, could be cold whenever he assumed his protective veneer, but he had a heart made of creek-bed gold.
It had just been hard for Matt, hard for them both, over the past two years. One day they’d had everything to live for. The next, there was a hole as big as a canyon in their lives where Rebecca had once been. Life could change so quickly that it defied belief. Even now, Blake found it hard to accept that she was gone. That their hopes and dreams in the human form of their precious baby son and daughter were also gone. Forever.
Death was so final. So dark. So unforgiving.
Each morning brought the grief back like a flash flood. The moments after waking were filled with the gentle bliss of forgetfulness but as sleep drifted away, the darkness was able to descend with its heart-wrenching reminders of what was lost, of what had once been. He feared that he would never get over their loss. Never fully heal. Like a physical scar, it would always be there, red, raised and angry.
Matt glanced up and Blake offered him a smile. He knew that it wouldn’t have reached his eyes. The pain that had just filled his heart at the thought of his lost family would have seen to that, but he didn’t want Matt to have to think about that right now. Like he had said, it was better to keep on moving. Maintain momentum so that they could try to leave the past and their grief behind.
It was what Blake wanted too. But he wasn’t really convinced that you could keep running from your loss. Surely, reality would catch up with you sooner or later? And try as he might to push the dark cloud away, it was always there. Just hovering over his shoulder. Black and relentless.
“You tell Mrs Holbein, Blake?” Matt approached him.
“Sure did. She said we should wash in the barrel around the side of the barn. She’s gonna get us some cloths to help clean the poop off.”
“She offer to wash your back?” Matt winked.
“No but I’ll scrub yours if you like.” Blake nudged Matt’s shoulder.
They walked in step over to the barn and located the barrel the widow had spoken of. It was full to the brim with fresh, clean rain water.
Blake dipped his hand into it.
“It’s ice-cold!”
“It’s in the shade around here. Probably doesn’t get warmed up at all. Can’t stay stinky all day though. There’s no way I’m snuggling up to you later unless you clean that off.”
Blake snorted. “I know, I know.”
He looked around. There was a small wooden pail near to the barrel so he picked it up. “Guess we have to use this. You first?”
Matt’s eyes twinkled. “Coward.”
“Better a warm coward than chilled through. Now get your union suit off and start bracing.”
Matt unbuttoned the body of the suit then slid his arms out. He paused. “I ain’t looking forward to this.”
“And the rest.” Blake was enjoying himself way too much. Matt now wore stripes. Head and legs were brown but his chest was bronzed male flesh. His nipples were hard little peaks, distended in anticipation. Blake licked his lips. He wanted to lean forwards and take those nips into his mouth, to tweak them with his teeth. His cock hardened.
“Oh!
