Dick Dungworth watched the blue smoke of his Havanna cigar twist towards the immaculately white ceiling of the salon. He cast a sour eye at the baby blue wall paint that dominated the room. That had been Agatha's idea. His wife's puritan sense of frugality had prevented the lavish wallpaper he had fancied but not the exquisite furniture he had already bought before. Much of it had been imported from Europe. It was more worth than the entire mansion. His new house would have compared well with any of the first families in Philadelphia. It would have eclipsed the new money mansions which were mushrooming in and around Kansas City. And it was unheard of in this place, Hays City, a booming frontier town deep within Kansas territory. Dungworth had made a small fortune with selling food stuffs to the outbound emigrant trains in Kansas City and an even bigger one with selling mining equipment in Denver City where most of the emigrant trains ended. He had made a killing with supplying the railroad company. His new home out West was a strategic statement, a promise of glorious things to come. Dungworth walked to the map table and studied the recent progress. The railroad surveyors had passed through the city months ago, the graders were only thirty miles east of this place, and ten miled behind them the labourers were busy laying track. Good. His next trip back east from here would be in a plushy salon railroad car... Suddenly Cerberus gave a deep growl, followed by a bark. Cherub exitedly scampered past him towards the porch door but suddenly stopped with a whimper. Irritated, Dungworth looked up. What he saw made him gasp and almost let the cigar slip from his lips. Two Indians were standing only feets away from him, just as if they had sprung from the polished floor boards of the salon! "What the helll...!" uttered Dungworth. His eyes darted through the room. The good news was that these two Indians seemed to be the only redskins suddenly populating his saloon. The bad news was that he had no weapon within reach. He quickly brushed the thought aside that it would have been better to decorate the fireplace with a servicable gun instead of the stuffed buffalo head he had procured from William Cody. He assumed a commanding posture. "What are you doing in my house?!", he barked with the tone of a man used to giving orders. The buck nearest to him raised his hand in something that looked like a greeting gesture, opened his mouth and let loose a deluge of hissed syllables hacked into little bits by glottal stops that sounded as if he was tormented by a severe hickup. The buck pointed to the second buck was holding a buffalo fur in his arms, now stretching it into Dungworth's direction with something like a shy smile. Dungworth didn't understand a word. But the situation seemed clear anyway. These two savages had ostensibly invaded his property with less than murderous intentions. As it seemed, they were offering him the pelt. Was this supposed to be a gift or had they come to barter? Had the savages come to pay him tribute or to look what they could steal? Probably it was a mix of all of this. Dungworth stepped closer to the uninvited guests to inspect what he was dealing with. Then it dawned on him. What he saw and heard put a broad smirk under his moustache. "Lo and behold...", he chuckled. "Those two bucks ain't bucks. What do you call a buck who is female? A doe?" He chuckled again. This could be entertaining. Dungworth heard steps in the hall. The door opened. He didn't need to turn his head to know what those high-pitched shrieks meant. Dungworth gave quick commands without having to turn his keen eye from the intruders. "Don't worry, Agatha, I have this under control. Eliza, please be so kind and watch my wife in case she feels unwell." "Yes, Massa!", came the quick reply. "Shall I call Samuel? Samuel has pitchfork..." "No.", Dungworth curtly replied. "When Sam comes, send him to the kitchen. Have him get three dollars worth of flour, bacon and coffee for our guests." Dungworth gave a quick grin to the one holding the pelt. "I want them to understand that we are good hosts. This appears to be some sort of courtesy visit between neighbors." Dungworth had quickly calculated what the pelt would be worth. Untanned buffalos hides sold for three to four dollars, tanned ones for twice the amount. Indian-tanned buffalo hides should sell for much more. The profit margin for this one might be four hundred percent, his usual profit margin. "You got more of those?", Dungworth inquired. The doe next to him seemed to ponder his words and then started another deluge of hissed vovels and hickups. "Ah, forget it...", sighed Dungworth. The times of squaw-men trading with flee-bitten savages were gone anyway. He was a railroad tycoon, not an Indian-peddler. Dungworth made a mental note that the local Fort commander was in for a good dressing-down. Dungworth had been told that the savages were forbidden by treaty to come closer than ten ten miles to any road travelled by whites or any white settlement. This farce would not see a repeat. Sam arrived in the door, pitchfork in hand and was soon sent to the kitchen by Eliza. In a few minutes this grotesque situation would be over. "My servant is fetching some gifts for you! He'll be back in a moment!", Dungworth said with a theatrically booming voice, as if increased volume would make the savages comprehend his words. The doe in front of him made a short remark as if she had understood him. Dungworth had to chuckle again. With nothing else to do than to await the return of his servant, Dungworth had a closer inspection of these two specimens of the red race. The one with the pelt looked young, probably not yet twenty. Maybe she was as young as forteen. One never knew with these savages, they blossomed and withered early, if war and diseases didn't do them in even earlier. Although the female wannabe-buck was all dressed in cloth of white manufacture, her appearance was as savage as it got and distractingly immodest. Not wearing any skirt of sorts, her legwear left nothing to the imagination about the shape of her legs. Dungworth figured that he would have to send his wife out of the room before receiving the pelt which was - for now- blocking the view of the redskin girl's lower body. The one in front of him was dressed from head to toe in buckskin. Much of her shirt had been dyed green while her leggings were covered in black horizontal stripes and adorned with large beaded strips running down all the length of the outer sides of her legs. From these large beaded flaps protuded sideways which seemed to serve no other purpose than some sort of decoration and which would give each of her steps a sound of flapping batwings. Between her legs dangled a screaming red breechlout flap, framed on either side by quite a bit of visibly bare skin. Suddenly his pants felt as if two sizes too tight. He stepped closer. "Fancy dress you got there, like big chief, eh?", he said with a wink and touched the shirt of the woman. She neither twitched nor did she shrink back. The leather was as supple as velvet. "Not bad...", Dungworth mused. As he looked into the face of the savage, his gaze wandered acrosss her marked cheekbones and green almond-shaped eyes. Her companion said something, prompting her to turn her head which gave Dungworth the opportunity to study her rather dramatic, aristocratic profile. Her complexion, though not comparable to that of people of European stock, was of a pleasant olive tone, certainly much lighter than the ape-like skintone of his negro slaves. With a bit of goodwill she could have passed for a person of mediterranean stock. She was surprisingly tall for a woman, nearly matching Dungworth's height. Her body and that of her youthful companion were slender and well-shaped. Had she not been the untameable savage she was, he would have made for a welcome addition to any of the New Mexico brothels he had frequented in his younger years. Emboldened by her lack of resistance, he let his hand wander further across the body-warm leather of her shirt and feel her heaving bosom underneath. Now she did twitch. Baring two rows of surprisingly white and perfectly complete teeth, she hissed a few hickup syllables into his face, but unlike before, her voice sounded threatening now. Slowly but determined, her right hand wandered to the grip of her knife. "Dick, don't be a..." That was Agatha, obviously again close to fainting. Dongworth's inquiring fingers hesitantly retreated, and the green leather doe's hand slipped from her knife as well. But she looked tense now. Her eyes were busily scanning the room. Dungworth wondered what was going on inside her stoneage skull. She was surely overwhelmed by the sight of all the marvels of civilisation assembled around her. For a moment Dungworth toyed with the idea of introducing his guests to the world of Cognac, Gin and Whiskey. They would be drunk in no time and then... Dungworth dropped the idea with a sigh. There was a Lady in the room, his Lady... The redskins had to go, and not just from his salon. It was no use. They had nothing of much value to offer except their land which they were stubbornly clinging on to. An obstacle to progress and profitable business, but one that could and would be dealt with. Dongworth grabbed one of the braids of the green leather doe and smirked again. These redskins were like children. They didn't fight off intrusions into their personal space until it was too late. Just like this one. "You know what?", he smirked into the face of the green leather doe. "This half-smoked cigar is more worth than your pretty little scalp!" If he was honest, he wouldn't have dared say this into her face had he known she might understand him. As his gaze met hers, he suddenly wasn't so sure any more if she actually had...

Great scene with much details...and the story? A good one and I guess the end will not be good for everybody. Happy to see you back I missed you and your work.

Glad you liked it, and thanks a lot! I have done a few things that turned out to be too large for Renderosity's 512 MB limit, including comic pages. Maybe I can cut them into manageable piece or something like that. Always a pleasure to see you stopping by!

WOW !!! Awesome composition !!!

Thank you! ;)

A stunning scene ... perfect for the story!! ;-)

Thank you!