Page 25 of Working the Lode

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Zelnora

Cormack would barely speak to Zelnora for the next couple of weeks.

She knew he felt disgraced that he’d been paddled by a well-known bandit, and had even become excited by the attention. How could one fake an erection? While Zelnora was not too educated on the anatomy of men, she was fairly certain that in frightening or repulsive situations, men’s penises shriveled and shrank to the size of snails. If not aroused, they did not elongate and thicken, and spurt shiny droplets of semen from the tip. If this was true, there was nothing to be ashamed of.

She had to admit, if only to herself, that it had been extremely scintillating to see the bandit working Cormack’s penis. It was evident from the way Valenzuela had dumped her on the ground to grab Cormack that the debauchee favored men over women. That was fine. What woman would feel threatened when another man stroked and playfully swatted her man’s colossal erection? There was nothing to be jealous of when there was no competition between her and another man—in this case, Valenzuela. How could one compare her to Valenzuela? One could not. Another woman, now, that was a different matter altogether. Zelnora would have blown the head off any other woman who dared put a fingertip on Cormack’s arm. But another man slapping his balls until they jiggled about in their fullness, a few drips of discharge shining from the tip of his bulbous raw penis…Who could feel envious or competitive about that? There was no comparing a man and a woman. It would not matter if Valenzu3ela’s hair was silkier than hers, for example.

Rather than jealousy, the memory of Valenzuela jerking Cormack’s penis and swatting his fleshy rump stoked the passion in Zelnora. She wanted to view such a sight again…and again. Was it Cormack’s submission that excited her so? No, because the fancy of the tables being turned and Cormack the one who pumped Valenzuela’s cock so assiduously, or even, dare she think it, pinning the desperado to the ground and guzzling his member into his mouth…Well, Zelnora had to find a way to make this happen again.

And if it assisted Cormack to regain his former sunny savoir faire, and to call her a mountain flower once more…

So the three—Cormack, Zelnora, and Quartus—mined their claim, Zelnora taking over Aaron’s duties of shaking the rocker while Cormack and Quartus sloshed buckets of fine earth and gravel. It came time for Mercy to leave for the Colorado River. Fellow pioneers and Battalion men had already been at work in the Sierra constructing a wagon road, seeking the pass where General Frémont and Kit Carson had blazed a trail in 1844, and now it was time for Mercy’s party to join them.

Cormack armed himself so heavily he resembled a porcupine, and they all rode to Sutter’s Fort to see Mercy off on her journey and to exchange their recent gold acquisitions. Sutter paid off all the men departing for the Colorado River, there to hand their fortunes over to Origin Pickett. To Zelnora, it was the same story all over again, and one just as heinous as giving one’s estate to Ward Brannagh.

As the fort came into view, Zelnora felt compelled to question Mercy again. They rode in the cart, as Cormack knew Zelnora wished to have a few last minutes with her best—only—woman friend.

“Oh, Zel,” Mercy sighed, clasping Zelnora’s arm to her bosom. “I don’t know whatever I’ll do without you.”

Zelnora sighed too. “I feel the same. Mercy, are you sure you’re doing the right thing? What about Mr. Erskine? You know he took the job with Captain Sutter to be closer to you.” Zelnora had only mentioned this about ten times, but it was worth bringing up again.

This time, Mercy’s answer was a little different. She hugged Zelnora’s arm tight to her bosom and laid her head on her shoulder. “I do feel a sense of doom about this journey.” She had previously protested that it was her plan, and she should follow through with plans. “I had a horrible nightmare last night that Aaron was escorting me across the Sierra, but I became lost from him and wound up in the most frightening lightning storm.”

“Perhaps that is warning you!” Zelnora said desperately.

But Mercy only sighed again, defeated. “I do adore Aaron. But Zel, I must follow my parents’ plan. Perhaps you would understand if your parents—oh, I’m so sorry! Forgive me, I wasn’t thinking—“

Zelnora patted her friend’s hand. “It’s all right. You forgot what my parents did.” For her parents had disavowed her when her husband had vanished, assuming, maybe rightfully, that the fault lay with her.

“Your parents are not very kind,” Quartus intoned soberly.

Mercy continued, “Oh, I would never imply that your parents—well, I suppose I would imply something about them, after what they did to you. Oh my, what is that? Cormack!”

Quartus squealed and raised his feet off the floorboards of the cart when they heard a rustling in the bushes.

Cormack casually shouted over his shoulder, “Deer.”

Quartus trilled with relief, “Oh! Just a deer!”

Mercy fanned her face with her hand. “Oh. My. I’m just so jumpy after what happened to poor Mr. Sackwell out of Dry Town.”

“Why? What happened?”

Quartus joined in. “You didn’t hear? It was those same bandits again, the desperate band of Joaquin Valenzuela, highwayman extraordinaire! This time they were so bold as to attack him and his wife in their own home.”

“Yes,” Mercy agreed with wide eyes. “Valenzuela assaulted the poor wife while the rest looked on, and then of course they took all their money.”

“Beat Sackwell senseless,” Quartus asserted.

“Money?” Zelnora frowned. “How much money can a seamstress have?” For everyone knew Mr. Sackwell was an inveterate rummy who sponged a living off of his wife. “Are you certain it was Valenzuela’s band? I’ve noticed he gets accused of everything under the sun, when he can hardly have been in two places at once.”

Replacing her head on Zelnora’s shoulder, Mercy smiled. “I’ve noticed that too. I’ve heard there are at least four other bandits named Joaquin rampaging about California, but everyone seems to think Valenzuela is always responsible.”

“It’s because he’s the handsomest.” Quartus nodded with authority.

Zelnora sat up straight. “What? How do you know what he looks like?”