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It had been a hard run, and a long run. They had left San Antonio in the early morning as usual, twenty men in trail denims, open shirts and stetsons with rugged, young horses and rifles slung over their backs, whipping three hundred head of cattle through the dust and heat of the Hill Country, over the dry ranges and cracked creek beds, heading north to the markets and the bars of Kansas. John had been riding in the vanguard, his usual position, Winchester repeater in his hand ready for any sign of trouble as his pony negotiated the dirt ahead, part cattle driver, part cattle protector. The drive was relatively small by local standards- he had ridden with herds ten times its size before- but, as John had learnt many times, no day in the West was ever easy. The ride out of Bexar had gone fine initially, with only a couple of cattle being lost to injuries sustained while negotiating a steep bank, and by the time they had hit the open range he had began to believe that this might be an. " And I hurried out side. This was bad! I was cleaning up, picking up beach towels, when Lindsey peaked her head out and asked. "Mr Anderson, where do you keep the dish soap?" "You don't have to do that sweetie." I replied but she insisted. I reluctantly agreed to let her help. I finished up out side probably just a bit too quickly. When I went inside, Lindsey was at my kitchen sink scrubbing a plate, and her bathing suit and rode up just a bit, showing the bottom of two fantastic cheeks. I don't know why she removed her towel from around her waist, but one side of my brain was thankful, the other side was scared shitless! She had amassed a large pile of dishes that needed dried and put away. I stepped in with dish towel in hand, and began to catch up. We sat quietly doing our work. I was relieved she just focused on the dishes, because one look down and she probably would have seen my sizable erection! I had caught up to her, and I reached over her to grab a dry towel off the rack by.
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