'On the Banks of the Bighorn' Part One: by Tracker

 

Emma’s preface: As I often mention, I not only approve of ‘Emma of Gor’ fanfic, but I actively encourage it! Tracker, a teller of tales, is writing a story consisting of a connected series of vignettes with an assortment of different narrators, based around the Frick Family, the Lazy F ranch, and other concepts that I’ve liked so much I’ve either incorporated them into my own writing, or soon will do (the Wyld Wymen and the Grand Duchy of Lutha, I have yet to use, but will be referenced in  Kajirus of Gor). I’m always delighted when people are inspired enough to write within the ‘Emma of Gor’ settings, but even more so when they come up with excellent ideas of their own that I can mercilessly exploit. Here then is the first instalment of his tale for your entertainment. 

 

-       Emma

 

 

1) Conversation and Sauna on a Ranch, somewhere in the Big Horn Mountains.

 

West of that portion of the Bighorn River in Mountain, before it flows into the Yellowstone River, and east of Billings, is an area of remote ranch land of which the Lazy F is the largest.  In this undeveloped area, traditional ranchers are the main occupants.

 

Wilson Frick, nephew of Willard Frick, and resident Frick on the Lazy F Ranch, was meeting with Randy Schlesinger, an assistant Foreman in late April, 2016.

 

“Looks like the spring round-up and branding is going to be a little late due to the drought.  But if we get that big rain that is forecast it will put things even later due to scattering of the herds, and some stock breaking loose because of the floods and high winds. More work for us, but the rain will be welcome.”

 

“Yes, Mr Frick, but in ranching it is always something.”

The two men were speaking in the main room of the Ranch House.  Everything was in keeping with the location, a movie set decorator would have no complaints, except in the case of this room, everything was authentic, and most was old.  The beams of Ponderosa Pine were old growth, cut almost a 150 years ago, and smoked black with the fires of 150 years, from the two great Riverstone fire places set at either end  of the room. A woman in a long shapeless dress that fell to her boots was bringing them coffee.  Mr Frick looked at the woman in her Traditional garb with her meek demeanour with approval.  It was always good to get back to the ranch where woman dressed appropriately to their role.  The sleeves came right down to her wrists, and the collar was buttoned high on her throat.  Her hair was put up and completely covered with a type of loose bonnet.  The only thing that could be seen of her was her hands and her face.

 

Wilson Frick thanked her for the coffee and asked to tell Jan and Bronwyn to prepare the sauna.  The Lady almost sniffed and moved away.

Randy Schlesinger waited until the Lady moved out of earshot, for ranching was men’s business and continued, “ I could use another man or two or fill out the crews.”

 

Wilson Frick replied, “As a matter of fact, I hired a man yesterday, calls himself Smith.”  Frick made a face at the obvious alias, many of the men they hired did not use their original names, but most were more subtle about it.  “I want you to keep an eye on him. Things in this country are moving our way more and more, towards our Traditional Ways, but not everyone in Government is on board.  So I want you to keep an eye on this one.”

 

Randy Schlesinger replied, “I wish we didn’t have to hire from outside the Traditional Families of this valley. I only trust men who are loyal to the Stone.”  He meant the great Stone with curious carvings on it that formed the Cornerstone of the Ranch House, it was referred to as the Cornerstone or just the Stone.  It bound together in one allegiance, not just the Fricks and their people, but all the Traditional People of the area.   Before their ranch or their family, all of them were loyal to the Stone.

 

Wilson Frick continued, “My cousin, Wyandotte Frick came in from Pittsburgh and we went up to the Exchange Point for the Spring Trade with the Wyld Wymen.  We may have some trouble with them sooner than we expected.  The younger Wymen seem restless and impatient of the agreements we have, and some bands seem to have split.  We may have trouble with them earlier than we planned.  Keep an eye out during the roundup.  They are only a nuisance right now, but we shall have to root out those abominations from their mountain canyons anyway, sometime soon.  Keep an eye out for trouble, Randy.”

 

Randy Schlesinger nodded.  He knew that without being told.  Business done, the men walked to the Sauna area.  The Lady watched them enter a part of the house to which she did not go.  

 

Jan and Bronwyn were waiting for them, but dressed far differently to the Lady in the public part of the house.  They wore their hair down, and were clad in what appeared to be sleeveless ponchos of burlap that terminated half way down their thighs and were cinched at the waist with a piece of rope.  As Randy Schlesinger and Mr Frick entered, they knelt, legs wide apart.  Mr Frick indicated a blonde. “Jan I think you have had; this new one is Bronwyn.”  Bronwyn was a beauty with masses of dark curled hair.  She was probably proud of her hair, as she shook it to make the curls bounce and draw attention to herself. Jan shrugged her shoulders at such an obvious move, causing one breast to pop out of the front of her poncho, which was slashed open in the front to below her navel.  The men ignored such byplay as it was too common to even take notice of.

 

“Greetings, Masters,”  said the two women in near unison.  Randy Schlesinger turned to Mr Frick, “the new one has a charming accent, is she English?”  Frick nodded.

 

“Pardon me, Master, if it please Master, I am Welsh, Master,” Bronwyn stopped confused, she had been better trained than to speak without being spoken to.

 

“She is still learning to be a proper Kajira.  The Welsh make good slaves though. It is in the blood - they were slaves to the English for centuries.”  Frick turned to Bronwyn, “there will be punishment for speaking out of turn.  Now girls, undress for the sauna.”  The girls undressed the men, starting with their boots and then slowly removing their clothing. The girls pushed their bodies up against the men as they worked.  Last of all they removed the cowboy hats that the men wore everywhere, then their own scanty garments, and the four stepped into the steam of the sauna.  The steel of the girls’ collars gleamed in the dim light.  While Jan and Bronwyn steamed with the men, the men’s clothes would be collected and washed and pressed by kettle girls.

 

In the hot lazy heat of the sauna, the girls served with tongues and lips.  Randy Schlesinger approved of the progress Bronwyn was making.  Following a shower, the girls massaged and oiled the men while pleasing them once again.  By the end of the session, it was nearly time for dinner.  The men ate in the mess hall, Jan had gruel in her pen, while Bronwyn was sent to the kennel without any food, for she had spoken when she should have been silent.  Both girls wore headphones with Gorean language lessons - a Priest King technology now pressed into the service of the Kur.

 

2) Smith’s Secret Diary

 

The beginning of May 2016

 

Just back from Woman Patrol.  I couldn’t take the diary on patrol; too many around for Security.  Woman Patrol, or I guess Wyman patrol was the second biggest surprise of working on the Lazy F. Finding out what some of the livestock kept on the ranch was, was the biggest. Cattle, horse, even some sheep, I expected, but human livestock was a surprise in this part of the world. But I have already written of that.  So there are bands of Wyld Wymen up in the canyons of the mountains! Apparently they have been there for decades or more - women who have rejected men and all decent authority .  They live by trapping and hunting, trading fur and meat to the ranchers for the goods they need.  Apparently they don’t like going into the towns, and many have no papers or desire for official identification, as that subjects them to the authority of the male government or something.  One of the other hands tell me that more women are drifting into their camps as the tenor of the times change.  Oh yes, one other thing they trade – they deal in the same livestock that the Fricks and the Traditional Families do. Arriving wymen who do not make the grade, or born tribes-womyn who lose out in the inter-band and intra-band fights are traded for goods.

 

Anyway, they are getting more numerous and we have to patrol against their raids on our land and cattle.  Our Land. Already it seems as though I am assimilating into Traditional Ranch Culture.  This would be a good place to settle down after all my roaming.

 

May 3rd.  Much interest in my report on the Wyld Wymen.  Apparently my superiors had no idea these bands existed.  Much more interest than in my reports on human livestock.  Apparently they knew all about that, though not the scale and don’t really care that much.  I am beginning to think my reports aren’t going to a government agency at all, but to some other interested party.  No matter.  The work here is congenial to me, hard but satisfying.  I like the country and the scenery and working with the animals.  And some of the perks are not found on an ordinary contract!

 

May 4th I think I am beginning to be accepted here.  Instead of working with women in the branding corrals, scared and inexperienced, I was given a house slave, Bronwyn, last night.  What a difference the training makes!  She can just sit on a man, take him inside her and then the things she could do with the muscles of her pelvis!  She was demoted from the House for some infraction.  My gain.  She muttered something in Welsh in her sleep, she kept repeating Cur and Cajira, and other strange words like hort and ehn over and over, like reviewing her lessons.  Welsh seems an interesting language.

 

May 6th.  I was sent in the night with two other men and Randy Schlesinger, my immediate boss, to Priest’s Hill.  Priest’s Hill is a barren promontory, where nothing grows on it now. It looks like it has been repeatedly burned over.  Indeed the rock seemed hot when we got there. There we collected a naked man, but not a trespasser!  It was Woodrow Frick!  One of the things my superiors instructed me to find out was any info about this Woodrow.  He fell off the grid over ten years ago when he was sixteen.  When we got there he was putting on some kind of red dress with short sleeves, that fell to his knees.  Randy Schlesinger told him that they had ‘earth clothes’ for him and he didn’t need the tunic.  I guess the dress was called a tunic, but there was nothing special about the so-called earth clothes, they were just regular shirt and trousers.  I suspect this Woodrow has been abroad somewhere, as his English has a strange accent now.  I suspect he must have been in Australia.  I will likely get a reward for this information. 

 

May 7th.  I got Bronwyn again.  Jan from the House was given to Woodrow Frick.  I don’t mind having the House’s castoff woman.  She is excellent and a very tasty morsel.  By the way, I guess cajira isn’t Welsh, it is what female human livestock is called on the Ranch.

 

May 10th. We sent off a big shipment of cattle today.  We are making room for the stock we will be rounding up from the range shortly.  This is a working ranch after all, not a dude resort.  When we got back, I found that Jan and Bronwyn and a bunch of the other “cajiras” were gone.  I guess they were shipped off as well. I was becoming quite fond of Bronwyn, but Etta will be a fine replacement.  She is the new bunkhouse “cajira”.  Woodrow Frick has gone east to Pittsburgh.  My contacts will be interested in that I am sure.

 

May 11th.  I learned something about branding today.  Unusually, the Lazy F has two registered brands.  Lazy just means that the letter is lying on its side, like it is lazy.  Well we have two brands.  A capital F, all square and blocky, that gets used on bulls and steers among the cattle, stallions and geldings among the horses, and rams among the sheep.  It is used on males, in other words.  I have not seen any male human livestock.  A lower case f, all curvy and feminine is used on the cows and heifers, the mares and foals, and the human female livestock.  Although confusingly, we sometimes use a k like letter as well, all curvy and with extra branches.  

 

Later – I just learned that the curvy k stands for kajira, so I guess cajira is spelled with a k!  Always learning something on the Lazy F.  I really like it here.  Tomorrow we will be learning roping, to catch cattle that are roaming wild in the round-up that is starting soon.  I am always learning new skills on the Lazy F.  Bill tells me that we sometimes rope unowned women too.  That could be fun.

 

3) Smith’s Secret Diary.

 

May 15th  I have been riding on patrol again.  North this time, to our Northern Boundary.  ‘Our’: there is that word again.  I am settling down alarmingly fast.  In my forty-five years I have never really settled anywhere. But I could here.  Anyway I was riding the Northern Boundary with Aaron.  He is just a kid, barely twenty.  We were watching for the ‘survivalists’ which have been moving into the remoter parts around the country in the past twenty years.  They want to ‘live off the land’ away from civilization. They are a pest, always talking about how skilled and independent they are. Talking, always talking.  I have run into some of them in town, either in Maisie’s Diner or in the Three Moons Saloon. Always talking, and in such loud voices.  Most of the people on the ranch speak quietly and not too often.  Their words have weight. Anyway these survivalists are less skilled at surviving than they are at talking.  A lot of their surviving is sneaking onto our land and butchering cattle. Like I said, pests.  Aaron and I chased them off easily enough, though they kept talking all the time they were backing away.  

 

One night Aaron got to talking about the Wyld Wymen.  I didn’t bring them up, but that night the bitterness just spilled out of him. I believe he would wipe them out if he could. He was born in a Wyld Wymen camp, but all males are banished at the age of six, turned over to local ranchers.  In his bitterness he was very informative.  So, I guess the bands up the canyons in the Bighorn mountains are always clashing.  But the big news is that there are smaller bands down in Wyoming and over in Utah.  Some even up in Canada.  And they infest the Parks and remote places. These Wymen can’t form big enough bands to be really dangerous. They are always splitting and fracturing. Women in general aren’t good at getting together for a common purpose. Jealousy always breaks them up.  That’s how women are, even Wyld ones. Aaron was raised on the ranch and is fiercely loyal.

 

Later: I could not send off my latest reports.  When I went to town, I got a prickling feeling in my neck near the drop point.  I saw what looked like might be watchers.  So I just carried on to the Hardware Store and picked up the ranch’s order like that was all I had on my mind.  I didn’t get to be forty-five by being careless. 

 

4) Juliette Chen POV

 

Another hot day in San Francisco.  I find it very hot and humid, especially for the time of year. It is still mid-May for heaven’s sake.  Patrick came by to discuss our camping trip.  It will be good to be out of the city. I do so like being active. I was exercising in my apartment and was very sweaty, and because I don’t have air-conditioning, I was just wearing my panties. Boy I wish I could afford a place with air conditioning.  Patrick has air conditioning, but I won’t move in with him until we are at least engaged.  It is so important to have some mystery until we are married, or at least engaged and close to being married.  I didn’t hear Patrick let himself in with the key he had wrangled out of me. I didn’t really want to give him a key until we were engaged to be married, but we have been dating for almost two years and you have to permit a man some liberties after two years.  So, I was exercising in the living room, in just my panties because it was so hot, and I turned around and he was watching me.  I don’t like that.  I mean being watched when I am undressed. Nakedness belongs in the bedroom, especially when sex is involved, and it is better when the lights are low or off. It is good to maintain some mystery, I think. 

 

Patrick was staring at my boobs.  He is obsessed with my boobs.  He says they ae perfect, like teacups; firm not floppy.  I don’t like him to talk like that, although I think they are good boobs.  And I am not flabby or floppy anywhere!  I exercise and work out, in fact I teach Pilates and yoga.  When I graduated with my BA in math, I thought about teaching in the schools, but school teachers don’t make any money. I make at least twice a schoolteacher or more.  So I am really fit, with firm body and muscles and trim ankles.  

 

I turned around so Patrick wouldn’t be staring at my boobs. Even though we have been dating for two years it is good to have some mystery.  So Patrick just started talking about my butt, how tight and taut it is.  Of course I have a good butt.  I do Pilates and yoga six hours a day.  Patrick then asked, again, why I don’t wear thongs more often.  He is always after me to wear thongs more.  Of course I do, sometimes; some outfits, including the athletic leisurewear I work in, and love, almost demands it.

 

I knew Patrick was getting worked up, and he wanted sex.  But, come on, it was the afternoon, and I was hot and sticky, and he wanted to do It right there, not in the bedroom.  So I did what I had to do, and pulled out his dick and started licking it.  Now Patrick has a nice dick, but it is kind of degrading and unequal to be on one’s knees, doing something that gives him pleasure, but not me.  But still better than doing It, when it isn’t dark out yet. But I satisfied him, though I know I am not good at Oral.  Why should I get good at something that I don’t like, and does nothing for me?  The sooner we are married the better, as there are some things that a girlfriend has to do that you don’t have to do any more once you are married.

Then I went to take a shower but Patrick climbed in with me, and then we were soaping each other and one thing led to another and I ended up getting fucked in the daytime after all.  I really want to get married.

 

I was at work the next day when I had a conversation with one of the men who attends the gym on the other side of building.  He asked if I was one of the instructors who taught women to be attractive for men.  I said no, I teach women to be fit and healthy for themselves.  He went on about the kind of woman who displays themselves for men and it would be better if women were more modest.  I kind of agree, but the way he put it sounded creepy somehow.

 

Tonight I went for dinner with Patrick. The place was dark and it was very romantic.  When he took out a box I was so excited.  I thought it might be a ring and I would finally get married!  After all, I am nearly twenty-four.  But it was a watch.  At first I was disappointed, but it is really a lovely watch. It is clunky, and has all kinds of gadgets and settings. A real watch to wear in the outdoors, hiking or climbing rocks.  It is a real wilderness watch; it can even be used as a compass to find direction.  So cool.  I feel Patrick really loves me.  It is not a ring, but I believe a man wouldn’t give a watch like that to girl if he didn’t intend to marry her.

 

Just five days until we leave on our Montana trip, I think something exciting will happen in the Bighorn mountains.