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LENGTH: Short Story
SENSUALITY: Sensual/Spicy

Cover art (c) Dan Skinner 2007
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The West is young, the world naive and enchantment still possible when Mavis Douglas heads West with her two beautiful daughters, Abby and Bea. It is their misfortune to cross paths with Tobias Perkins AKA Blue Beard, his trusty ranch foreman Hank Heartly, and his crafty bookkeeper Wesley Wiseman.

Mavis is set on matchmaking. Tobias is bent on revenge. Hank and Wesley want nothing more that a night with Mavis's beautiful young daughters. When a shape-shifting dude named Rumplestilskin appears on the scene and decides to play Cupid, the situation moves from devilish to downright dastardly.

Rating: Humorous. Contains graphic and explicit sexual content and language

BLUEBEARD

By

Barri Bryan

© copyright January 2007, Herb and Billie Houston
Cover art by Dan Skinner, © copyright January 2007
New Concepts Publishing
5202 Humphreys Rd.
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Chapter One

Once upon a time when the West was young, the world was naïve, and enchantment was still possible, there lived in the city of New Orleans a maiden fair of face and pure of heart. Her name was Mavis Maureen Donovan. Although Mavis's heart was spotless, the same could not be said for her reputation. Mavis was a prostitute in one of the fanciest brothels in New Orleans. This was not, of course, by choice. Circumstances forced Mavis into the world's oldest profession when she was a mere sixteen years of age.

Five years later, on a cold night in December, an unexpected police raid on Madam Fifi's Pleasure Palace landed Mavis in police custody. As fate would have it, that was precisely the night that the Reverend Dennis Douglas chose to visit the downtrodden and pray for the unfortunate souls incarcerated in the New Orleans jail. Dennis took one look at Mavis and fell smack dab in love.

Mavis took one look at Dennis and saw protection and security. Three months after their first meeting, Dennis married Mavis and took her to live in the little parsonage behind his church. None of the parishioners knew about Mavis's past, and she was careful to keep it that way. Life as a preacher's wife was not easy, but it was an improvement over being a prostitute in a bawdy house on Gallatin Street.

Dennis and Mavis had two daughters; well, at least Mavis had two daughters. There were those who believed that the girls were sired by someone other than Dennis and for obvious reasons. Dennis's hair was as red as a turkey gobbler's snout. Mavis's hair was a deep shade of auburn. Neither of the girls 'favored' the Reverend. Come to think of it, they didn't look much like Mavis either. Abigail, the older daughter had hair the color of sunshine and huge cornflower blue eyes. Beatrice, who was a year younger, had hair the color of midnight and eyes like brown velvet. When asked about his daughters' lack of resemblance to either him or his wife, Dennis always replied, "God moves in mysterious ways his wonders to perform." Those words were too profound for the poor parishioners to interpret. After a while they stopped asking.

The years passed in monotonous succession until twenty winters had come and gone. One spring night Dennis went out to pray over an ailing parishioner and never returned. Some said he'd met with foul play. Others speculated he'd decided to move further on down the road.

Shortly after Dennis disappeared without a trace, the elders of the church asked Mavis and her daughters to vacate the parsonage.

Mavis tried to explain that she had no other place to go. The elders assured her that God would provide and booted her into the street.

Mavis hitched her span of mules to her wagon, loaded her few belongings and her two girls inside, tied her cow to the tailgate, and headed west. She opined that if 'Go West' was wise counsel to young men, it couldn't be bad advice for middle-aged women. The three females shook the dust of New Orleans from their feet and drove off into the sunset.

The trio traveled many days, through sunshine and shower, always pushing westward. Days ran to weeks and weeks converted to months, still they pressed on. One night after three months on the trail, they camped beside a running stream. The girls slept while Mavis pondered where the West really began and wondered how long it would take her to get there.

The next day as they rode along, Abbey spied a little cabin not far off the trail. It was nestled in a grove of tall trees. "Look." She pointed. "There's a vacant house. We can camp there for the night."

Closer inspection made Mavis suspect the house was a line shack built and maintained by whoever owned the property. Cowboys and hired hands stayed there when night found them too far from the main ranch house to make the ride back before dark. The cabin was small but comfortable--so comfortable in fact that Mavis and her daughters found themselves staying two nights and then three.

On the morning of the third day of their stay, a wizened little man dressed in a long robe with a hood wandered into the front yard and stared for a few minutes before hurrying onto the porch. "Anybody home?" he called as he rapped on the door with his gnarled fist.

Mavis prepared for the worst, told the girls to hide in the other room, took Dennis's old six shooter from her bag, hid her hands in the folds of her skirt, and opened the door a few inches.

The man on the other side was old and weather-beaten with a long white beard and tobacco juice oozing from the sides of his mouth. "Mornin' ma'am." He slipped his hood from his head, revealing a wealth of long gray hair. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Mr. Rump L. Stiltskin."

Mavis was in no mood for pleasantries. "What do you want Mr. Stiltskin?"

"You can call me Rump. Sorry to bother you," the old man apologized, "but I have a problem."

Mavis thought, don't we all? She said, "I have problems of my own. I can't be bothered with someone else's woes."

Rump ran his fingers through the sides of his hair. "I'm not asking for your help, at least, not in the way you think." He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder. "I have a herd of sheep over on the other side of that rise."

Mavis opened the door a little wider. This was cattle country. Sheepherders were about as welcome in this part of the world as a rattlesnake at a tea party. "If some of these ranchers around here find you with a herd of sheep, they will nail your hide to the barn door."

"I know that," Rump said, "and that's why I need your help. Several of my ewes have dropped lambs. I need a place to stay for a few days before I move on to…."

Mavis interrupted. "But this is not lambing season."

"Tell that to that son-of-a-bitchin' ram," Rump replied before adding in a pleading voice, "All I'm asking is permission to camp near your house for a few days. I'll be glad to pay you for the time I stay on your place."

Mavis had chickens, a cow, and two daughters to feed--and very little money left in her purse. She didn't own this place, and she didn't know who did. She was set to explain her dire circumstances to this wizened stranger and advise him to move on when the words 'your place' registered inside her brain. A clever scheme began to take shape in her head. "I think we can make a deal, but you will have to sleep outside. My daughters and I occupy my house."

The girls had come from the other room and were standing behind Mavis. "Mamma," Bea said, "this is not your...."

Mavis turned to send her daughters a warning stare. "This gentleman will be staying at our house for a few days."

Abbey arched an eyebrow. "Our house?"

Mavis's gaze narrowed and her eyes flashed as she mouthed, "Shut up."

The girls lapsed into silence and hurried back into the next room.

She once more faced the stranger. "How long will you be here?"

"About a week," the old man replied.

"You will have to pay in advance," Mavis told him. And as soon as he did, she went into the nearest town, a quaint little village called Cactus Gulch, and bought much-needed food and supplies.

Over the next week the mysterious Rump proved to be nothing but trouble. He flirted outrageously with Abbey and Bea, made veiled sexual advances toward Mavis, and in general was a nuisance and a pest. She would have told the old pervert to be on his way, but she had already spent a good portion the money he'd paid for rent. And even though she was reluctant to admit it, she was afraid of the old man. There was something intimidating and a little scary about him.

On the morning of the eighth day of his stay, Mavis awoke to discover that he had slipped away during the night. She congratulated herself on being wise enough to demand rent in advance. Waking her daughters, she told them to pack. The money she had left should get them a far piece down the road. She went outside to milk the cow and feed the chickens, only to discover that the old man had left his herd of sheep behind. There they were, safe and secure inside the fence he'd built up to keep them from straying. Fastened to the gate post was an envelope. Inside was another week's rent and a message scrawled in barely legible cursive. It read: I have been called away unexpectedly. I will return in a week for my sheep.

This put a different complexion on things. Mavis Douglas, recently poor, itinerant widow, now had money in her pocket and temporary custody of a small flock of sheep. She considered driving them to Cactus Gulch and selling them and then getting out of town as fast as possible. She quickly discarded that idea. Mr. Rump L. Stiltskin had a way of appearing and disappearing unexpectedly. Sooner or later he would catch up to her and then there would be hell to pay. Mavis sat on her milking stool and pondered what she should do.

After carefully considering all of her options, she finally decided to stay another week in the little cabin in the grove and tend the sheep until Rump returned. When she told her daughters her plan, Abbey asked, "What will we do when the owner of this place shows up?"

"We will cross that bridge when we come to it," answered Mavis. Her hope was that the owner would not show before she could make good her own departure.

Bea asked, "Are we becoming squatters?"

"Only temporarily."

"Why did Rump leave his sheep?" Abbey asked.

Mavis was beginning to wonder where the old man had come from in the first place. She shrugged. "I don't know, but it's never wise to question fate."

Bea wondered, "What if he doesn't return?"

Mavis thought for a moment before saying defiantly, "I'll think of something, don't worry." She spoke with much more confidence than she felt.