Her dress was so dusty and hot, to let
it fall to the ground was an absolute joy.
Liberation, how sweet!
The sun shone bright at the river’s
edge, where the forest canopy gave way to open air.
Pulse quickening, her unadorned body
trembled with the pleasure of the wild, the nudity of nature.
Those first tentative steps into the
water … only ankles deep, and so cold!
Folding her arms across her bosom was a
reflex, her peaks sharpened to points.
Then she laughed and let go.
What difference did it make? Why cover
up?
She was alone.
Wasn’t she? A cautious look around
confirmed she was.
A few more steps and the water rushed
past her knees, the urgent pull of the current reminding to take
care.
Down the river, the top of the falls
was within sight, its ever present roar intimidating earshot.
Shudder the thought of the rocks at its
bottom, the river pummeling itself and all else, what violence
playing out all that noise.
Lucky for the rocky inlet giving
shelter from the full of the current. Outside of that, a girl could
be carried away.
And it wouldn’t do at all, to wash up
dead from fallin’ over the falls.
She certainly wasn’t dressed for it.
Getting carried away.
The cool tickle of the water between
her legs made her tremble, and then she was waist deep.
Splashing the river up onto her body
brought goosebumps and shivering timbers.
She squatted down so she was sunk up to
her shoulders.
Submergence was exquisite, the body of
water chilling her body to its own low degree.
Quite an improvement from the dusty and
hot!
She held her breath and dunked her
head, the water streaming through her long hair.
And surfacing, cleared it from her
eyes.
She stood up, all dripping hair, goose
bumps and bosoms, and moved deeper into the river.
There, the river flowed colder and
faster.
The slippery rocks at her feet barely
offered enough hold to hold her in place.
She felt a splash of fear.
Had she come out too far?
Why drown and find out?
Retreating from the danger of the
current, she moved toward the bank and the shallow, slower water―
What … was that?
She detected movement, downstream.
It was a … a boy!
No, he was naked … it was a man!
Standing up to his knees in the water,
he was relieving himself.
“Now that’s some water fallin’”
she whispered to herself, marveling at the sight against the backdrop
of the falls. “I thought cold water made them shrink.”
What if it had? Amazing!
She looked down, realizing the
shallower water was leaving her torso exposed.
Subtly, very subtly, she slipped those
pointy peaks back into the water.
Still, she felt exposed.
And so she worked her subtle way to a
substantial rock at the inlet’s edge, always with one eye on her
slippery footing, and with one eye on the show.
The river there was more excited than
she’d expected, but her own excitement egged her on.
She made it without trouble, and the
next moment found her peeping around the rock, taking in the splashy
play of a young man in his naturale state.
The chill of the water was forgotten as
the warmth in her curiosity was stoked.
He performed a handstand, which she
found particularly impressive, her eyes hanging with him.
All the while, that excited river
rushed past her perch, the edge of the inlet subject to near the full
of the sweeping current. And holding herself in place was more
fatiguing than she thought it would be, the rock smoother and harder
to grip than she’d expected.
“I’d better go,” she realized.
“I’m gonna be in trouble if I …”
She slipped.
And the wicked rush wasted no time in
taking her up.
The open river offering no footing or
handhold; she bobbed and thrashed in struggle to right herself, a
desperate fight for the safety of the bank.
All to no effect, as the river’s pull
proved brutally persuasive, so mightier than anything her young
flailing body could muster.
Desperation!
Each second ticked her closer to the
falls, the horror of its approaching crest … and the thundering of
the terrible crashing surf at its bottom.
In vain she fought and strained until …
strong arms closed around her.
Safety?
Exhausted, she gave herself to those
arms, a body plucking hers from the current and its awful intentions.
Her water had swept over the falls by
now, left to smash upon the rocks without her.
Doom denied.
She buried her face in his shoulder,
breathing easier now.
He carried her out of the river, up
onto the bank.
Naked. It just occurred to her.
Then she heard the hooves clomping up.
“Boy, what’s the meaning of this?”
She lifted her head. “Daddy?”
The silver-haired man on horseback had
his six-gun drawn.
As did the two men with him, ready and
menacing from the saddles of their own mounts.
“Sir?” Her dripping hero did his
best not to sound uneasy.
“You better put my little girl down,
and get your damn hands off her. And you better tell that member of
yours to relax … if you know what’s good for it.”
“Daddy?” Then she felt it throbbing
against her. “Oh.”
He set her down, awkwardly … and put
his hands up.
“YOU put your clothes on,” her
daddy scolded her.
The naked girl nodded, and scurrying
away stole a look back at her rescuer. “Thank you.”
He winked at her, equally exposed.
“Don’t mention it.”
“Now what,” her daddy said, “are
we gonna do with you, son?”
“Thank me and let me go?” He
gulped. “Sir.”
“That’s not going to get the image
of you and my daughter out of my head.”
Their guns were still on him.
There was a click in the woods behind
the men on horseback.
“Hold it right there, Daddy.”
The silver-haired man sighed.
His men looked to him for a cue.
“You wouldn’t shoot your daddy …”
he said.
“Maybe I would … maybe I’d shoot
one of your boys.”
Both of them looked concerned.
“Maybe I’d even shoot that DAMN
horse of yours … right in the hind end.”
“I love this horse,” he muttered,
giving his mount a pat. “You know I don’t approve of that
language, young lady.”
“DAMN, Daddy. DAMN DAMN DAMN. How
about you all put away your DAMN guns?”
“She’s just like her momma,” he
said to the other men. “Feisty. Damn feisty.”
He holstered his gun, nodded to his men
to do the same, and they did.
“Good,” she continued. “Now hit
the trail … skidaddle! I mean it.”
“Alright, we’re goin’.”
He started his horse down the trail and
his men followed.
“See ya at supper.”
She stayed stern as she watched them
go, and once they were gone, holstered her pistol.
“Alone again,” said the naked man,
dropping his hands to his sides.
She read the hope in his eyes. “Don’t
be getting any ideas.”
“What? You’re not in the mood?”
“For what?”
“For saving you.”
“Well, I just saved you.”
“Most obliged, darlin’ … I’d
like to reward you.”
“Guess you’re right, I’m not in
the mood.” She started for the trail. “Not anymore.”
He looked stunned after that.
“See you around,” she said with a
glance downward. “Tallywhacker.”
“What did … what did you just call
me?” He was speaking to her back, as she walked away.
“You heard me.” She didn’t look
back.
Dangling sadly at the river’s edge,
he could only watch her go. “Tallywhacker?” He looked down at
it. “Did she call me Tallywhacker?”
The End
-Harlowe Pilgrim
Copyright 2016 Cock and Bull Publishing, LLC
Harlowe Pilgrim’s books are available at Amazon, iBooks, Smashwords.com, Books-A-Million, and most other online booksellers.
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