by chimili anne

The aspens were turning gold in the high country, the time for trapping beaver was ending for the year. Armand rode his horse, Rusty down a minor half bare draw, sparsely studded with gnarly piñons.

Ahead through the draw he could see Santa Fe, a fair sized dusty town with dusty looking adobe houses and shops. He had left his other horse, Bug eye, with Alfredo Gomez who lived several miles north of here, because Bug eye was piled high with beaver pelts and it was best that the alcalde did not know how successful he was. He had left his pistol and rifle with Alfredo as well. Alfredo would watch his gear for up to a week for only two pelts. Armand was being careful, because even though he had a permit signed by the alcalde things can happen.

An hour and a half later, after trading ten more pelts for pesos,Armand stopped at a decrepit adobe on Water Street with a sign on the door that said Baños. As he entered, one woman held her nose and pointed to a tub. When Armand was partly submerged in the soapy water, Luisa left the house with his smelly grungy buckskins held out in front of her on a stick. “Quémalos” Flora yelled after her.

“What’s that mean?” asked Armand

“Burn them.”

“No, no, NO!” Armand shouted and jumped put of the tub.

“I was just kidding, she’s taking them to be cleaned.” Flora took a quick look at his package and grinned a little.

But things can happen. Two hours later Luisa went out to get the buckskins. They weren’t ready and wouldn’t be ready that day.

Luisa came back with along face, “Lo siento mucho.” Luisa shrugged and talked to Flora in Spanish.

Flora told Armand, “They are closing and the buckskins are not done. Tomorrow is a holiday and they will not be ready until the day after.”

“But what am I going to wear, my other clothes are miles away?”

“Hmm, the only thing here we have that would fit you is a tan dress in the back.”

A disturbed look crossed Armand’s face. He gestured with his hands several times and tried to say something, but nothing came out. Finally he said alright, and the two women dressed him in it.

Luisa and Flora stood back and looked at him. They shook their heads at each other. Luisa shrugged. Luisa whispered something to Flora and disappeared out the back door. She was back in ten minutes with a threadbare old red corset.

“This was Luisa’s tia’s corset. Where she is she doesn’t need it anymore.” They put it on top of the tan dress and cinched it up. Armand felt a strange sensation in his stomach; it was an attraction and repulsion at the same time and a strange heightened awareness when he looked in the shiny tin mirror. His fingers tingled, all eleven of them, and his head swam. The two ladies stepped back and looked at their handiwork. “Eso se ve mejor.” “Si lo es.” “. . . pero el cabello.”

“You will pass in the dark, but we have to do something with your hair, fortunately it’s been growing for half a year while you were out trapping the poor beavers.” said Flora.

Ten minutes, a little trimming and two long hairpins later Armand’s transformation was complete, as complete as could be expected given the circumstances, after all things can happen.

“Don’t go out until it start’s to get dark” said Flora, “Then you will be fine.”

Armand sat in the back of the shop and tried to talk in a girly voice until dusk. The ladies giggled frequently. Inspired by Flora he decided he would call himself Fauna. He stepped outside at dusk, and they closed the door behind him.

After stabling his horse and eating stew in a back seat for what passed as a restaurant, Fauna headed for the gambling hall, La Tula’s, on Burro Alley. For Santa Fe this was a grand two story building. Fauna didn’t know why she was going here. Last year Armand lost thirty pelts worth of pesos playing Monte at the card table. Madame La Tules was there dealing the cards and she could read every player there like a book.

That wasn’t going to happen this year, Fauna didn’t dare sit at that table. It was the best lit place in the saloon, and Fauna was definitely shy now. She started with half a glass of whiskey at a darker table in the back, by herself. At least she could see all the action.

La Tula was gaudily dressed in saloon ware and smoked a thin cigarillo as she dealt. A redhead pushing forty with at least a dozen rings on her fingers and three gold chains around her neck, the biggest of which had a large gold cross on it, she was always the center of a tableau of people wherever she went.

Fauna was almost to the bottom of her glass when a tall swarthy man invited himself to her table. He grunted and then said nothing, nothing until Flora finished her drink and then he asked if she wanted another. Fighting off the feeling of stepping off into the void Fauna reasoned that this was a free drink after all. By the third drink Fauna sensed she was leaving with someone, winding up somewhere, handling something familiar yet alien and everything going black.

The next morning Fauna woke up to pain; in her head. Little demons were poking her brain with pitchforks. After a bit she dared to slowly open her eyes. She slowly sat up with a groan. A large man was laying next to her snoring peacefully. She seemed alright although something was caked on the inside of her leg. Well things can happen, so she quietly got up and sneaked out of the room.

Fauna spent the next day being as unobtrusive as possible until late afternoon. Preparations for something were going on in front of the Governor’s Palace. From last year’s experience Fauna realized that it was to be a Fandango. These happened at irregular intervals and sometimes two nights in a row. It was a good chance to get a little free food and blend into the crowd.

It was unseasonably warm for late September and a little after dark the party started. Fauna blended into the crowd and got a little to eat and drink. Then she noticed a lanky stranger staring at her. Before she could move away he coerced her into dancing. He was a trader from Missouri and fortunately he was a little tipsy too. Between dances he repeated some of the local gossip as he had been stuck in town for three months and Governor Armijo’s men wouldn’t let him leave. It was like house arrest, but he didn’t have to stay in the house. Last year an expedition from the Republic of Texas tried to invade and the Governor was now suspicious of anyone who wasn’t Mexican.

He was good for a few drinks, but after a few, he started getting amorous. Remembering last night Fauna managed to disappear into the crowd. Hurrying westward Fauna turned a corner onto Burro Alley and disappeared into La Tulas hoping to slip out the back door and assuring her getaway, but she found herself right in front of Madame’s main gambling table.

“Sit down dearie.” said La Tula from the back of the table. Fauna found herself unable to disobey. La Tula dealt out the next hand of Monte. The saloon was quieter than the night before. Most of the customers were out at the fandango. Just the gamblers were inside. Two sat on her left and one on her right. Fauna won two of the first five hands, then La Tula started making conversation with her, asking her subtle questions. Fauna became nervous. She lost the next two hands, barely able to think how to play her cards or bid.

La Tula looked at her probingly and said with a slight grin, “Well I see we have a very special girl here.” One of the other players looked quizzical and then started to grin too.

“Yes.” squeaked Fauna, “And I think it’s past her bedtime.” Red faced she grabbed most of the meager remains of her winnings and streaked through the rear of the saloon.

Running and stumbling through what sufficed for back alleys Fauna fled until she found a lean-to behind a house with enough space to crawl in. She crawled in and fell asleep.

The sound of a rooster from the next yard woke Fauna up. She crawled out of the lean to into the gray of early morning and slowly headed toward Water Street. Fauna shrugged and said to herself, “Things can happen, and at least I won a few pesos and didn’t wind up in bed with that guy.” Then she thought about how easily she came under La Tula’s control. If she had stayed there any longer she wouldn’t have been able to move. She wanted to stay and she wanted to go. She wanted something from her, but she was afraid of her,“I wonder if she dealt me a few wins deliberately to keep me there.” thought an emotionally torn Fauna.

When Baño opened Fauna was immediately inside. She told Flora “I’m not going outside until I get my duds.”

Three hours later Armand put on his buckskins. He headed toward the livery stable where his horse was. He planned to get some supplies and head north to Alfredo’s as soon as he could. He almost reached the stable when he realized three men were right behind him. Two grabbed his shoulders and spun him around. He was face to face with the alcalde.

“Armand Datweiller” said the alcalde “I am taking you into custody. You were in town for three days and now you are leaving. You did not not bring your permit to us and you did not bring your beaver pelts in so that the Governor and the State of Nuevo Mexico get their share.”

“Here’s my permit, but what share is that? When I bought it there was no talk of shares to the state.”

“It’s half of all pelts and there will be a fine for not reporting promptly. The proclamation about this was issued this summer”

Armand turned livid, shouted “That’s nuts” and wrenched himself free. In seconds there was a free for all. Armand knocked down one man and as he turned toward the other he saw stars and then it went black. When he came to the alcalde’s assistants were dragging him towards the Governor’s Palace.
For hours Armand was held in a small room off the alcalde’s office on the side of the Governor’s Palace, then he was marched to a spot in front of the alcalde’s desk. After refusing to comply with giving up half of his pelts and refusing to say if he had any and where they were, the alcalde finally addressed him, “Armand Datweiller you are placed under house arrest. You have the option of giving us your pelts to count and divide, paying a fine for not reporting, a fine for public disturbance and a fine for lewd and sexually unnatural behavior to be taken in pelts, or you will be taken to the court in Chihuahua. The next wagon train returns there in about ten days”

Armand’s heart sank. It sounded as if he would have no pelts left. Chihuahua was 300 or 400 miles south of Santa Fe and he could be thrown in jail there also.

Two of the alcalde’s men took Armand to a small two room adobe house which served as a jail. The cell had a few crude straw filled cradles for beds and a pot for elimination. Armand was not hungry for dinner, went to bed, nursed his head and fell asleep.

In the morning the jailer brought him some breakfast which he paid two pesos for. A little while later he heard a female whispering at the window. Armand tried to look out as best he could. It was Flora.

“I heard what happened to you, it is so bad.”

“I have to get out of here, but I can’t”

There was a long silence, then Flora said, “I know a way.” She explained that several years ago her grandmother (Who now might be in a better place, but Flora doubted it) concocted an potion that when drunk can change one’s form. “It is valuable and I have all there is in a little bottle. You drink just so much and then when you go to sleep you become what you dreamed about the next morning, but it is tricky. Juan Carlos drank some and became a wolf. Before he could change back someone killed him.”

“You said its valuable so how much will it cost me?”

“Uh . . . thirty pelts for the bottle, and I will help you escape if you need me. What do you have with you now?”

Armand thought, I have 120 pelts in two packs that Bug eye carries and fifteen more. If I don’t do this I might wind up with 30 and Alfredo will wind up in big trouble. He laid a guilt trip on Flora saying that it was partially her fault that he would be charged with unnatural sex and talked the price down to twenty three pelts. Then he told Flora “I have about five skins worth of pesos with me. You can get the rest if you follow me on horseback if I can get free.”

They agreed and Flora would bring the potion after dark. Sure enough she did. She also explained that you could drink another dose and dream again to resume your old form, but you should wait at least a week before doing this. She would stop back very early in the morning. Then she left.

Armand took a dose and fell into a deep sleep. He awoke in total darkness. Armand felt his teeth and then his body. “Well at least I’m not a wolf.” Then he noticed his arms and legs had no hair on them. His hands went up to his chest, “Breasts.” then down between his legs “Nothing, well almost nothing.” It felt female except for a small vestige of a penis. Armand felt a surge of panic. “Tarnation! I’m a woman.” After a bit Armand calmed down. “I can become a man again next week.” But, he didn’t know if he believed it or not.

A voice outside the window called softly to him.

“What are you?”

“A woman.”

“After what happened two days ago I’m not surprised. Fat or skinny, tall or short?”

“A little taller than you and between skinny and curvaceous.”

“I’ll have what you need before it gets light.” . . .and she left.

Flora was back soon. She tossed some items in through the bars on the window. “Put these on, unmentionables first, corset second and dress third. You need to look respectable this time, not like a floozy, and toss your duds out. Oh, and let’s call you Magdalena.”

Magdalena stepped into the cajone and pulled the camisa over her head. She ran her hand over them and felt a tinge of electricity slither through her body. Next was the corset. Fortunately Flora and Luisa put the same one on her before and she had an idea how to do it, even in the dark. It fit better this time and when it was on and tightened Magdelena felt as if she was held in a warm sensual hug. It was a soothing feeling and for a moment she forgot the urgency of the situation. Coming back to her senses she put the dress on top and then tried on the shoes. They didn’t fit, too small. She tossed them out the window and got her old shoes back, too big, but they’ll have to do.

Flora instructed her, “They will change the guard very soon. After you hear the change happen wait just a little bit and call the guard. It’s alright. Women visit men detained here frequently. Have the straw piled up in one bed and put an old blanket on it. Tell the guard that Armand’s asleep.”

It all worked as Flora had said. It was just after dawn when Flora with a horse and Magdelena with a bundle of buckskins walked to the stables. On the way Flora got her first payment in pesos. Magda realized she understood Spanish perfectly now. At the stables the stableman had left for a cup of coffee. No one was there. Magda just got Rusty and both left riding north. No one noticed.

As the sun rose Magdalena became more aware of herself again. Eventually Flora noticed, “You are acting like an eight year old in her first decent dress looking this way and that at every part of her that she can see. Here I brought the mirror, look at yourself if you want.” She handed Magda the shiny tin mirror.

When she looked at herself Magdalena gasped. A woman with black curly hair, thin straight nose and an almond shaped face stared back at her. Pretty, almost beautiful. Flora stopped her horse, “Here, put on your face, and handed her some rouge.” After Magda’s pathetic attempt Flora set her face right.

As they rode Magdalena looked at her face in the mirror and down at her breasts and occasionally her derriere. She felt twinges of excitement she had never felt before. Her nipples tingled. Her hoo-hee tingled. When ever Flora rode in front of her she would rub herself back and forth on the saddle, then she would look at herself in the mirror and start to breathe heavily.

After about three hours they came in sight of Alfredo’s house. Magda reigned in her horse, “What will I do? How will I explain. . .”

“Never mind I’ll do it.”

“Do you know Alfredo?”

“No, never mind I’ll do it. You would just turn red in the face.”

They rode up to the house. When Alfredo came out Flora dismounted while Magda sat on her horse trying to shrink into nothing. Finally Alfredo motioned her to get down and come in. She obediently followed.

Sitting at the table they went over the whole story again including a big discussion about Juan Carlos turning into a wolf. Then Magdalena paid Flora the twenty beaver skins she owed and Alfredo and Flora discussed how to get her skins to Beaubein the trader in Taos to exchange for pesos, because twenty skins would raise suspicions in Santa Fe. Magda said that she would continue almost to Taos and then go east through Flechado Pass, because going the easy way back through Santa Fe was much too dangerous now.

Soon Magda was saddled on Rusty with her rifle, pistol and gear and Bug eye, loaded with skins on a trailing line.

Alfredo then had a thought, “It’s dangerous for women to travel that way with so many valuable goods, let’s go over to Roberto’s place, he’s got nothing to do lately and he would probably go with you a ways.”

Magda didn’t object so the three of them rode off to another small farm about a mile to the west. When they got there Magda felt more comfortable because Roberto didn’t know that she was a man that morning and because she had been reassuring herself by looking in the mirror all the way over

Roberto didn’t have any pressing work around the farm and said he would be glad to go to Taos. Magda and Alfredo exchanged Vaya con Dioses and soon Magda found herself riding north with Roberto.

They rode by occasional farms and hamlets near a grassy edged creek. Eventually they left the creek and rode through unirrigated grazing country, Then they entered an area with oddly shaped pinnacles of sandstone where no one lived. Sometimes they rode together and sometimes Flora rode behind like a dueña. It was one of these times that Roberto struck up a conversation with Magda. Magda caught sideways glances at Roberto. He was handsome in his mid thirty’s, strong and wiry.

Having been a real woman for less that a day, Magdelena had to invent a history about herself. It must have been convincing, because Roberto was becoming more and more interested in her. If she really was interested in him, which she told herself she was not, it would be nice to run my fingers through his wavy hair, and his body was nice.

Roberto asked her about the beaver pelts. This was her chance to avoid being found out, she had told enough fables already.

“Beaver pelts are worth a lot,” Magda said, “Ninety would buy your little farm. If you bring them east to Missouri you can get more for them than you can here.” She talked a little about trapping and then both of them fell silent.

Late in the afternoon they rode into Española, a bigger farming town next to the Rio Grande. It had a few stores too. Magda got trail supplies fro the next several weeks and the three of them found lodging. Magda and Flora supposedly were going to sleep in one room and Roberto in the other, but at dinner Magda and Roberto had a few drinks and they wound up in his room. Talking led to touching and touching led to more.

Magda was a little light headed and felt horny in a strange way. Roberto skillfully used his mouth to kiss and nibble her neck and before long she realized she was rubbing him with her knee between the legs. She stopped everything immediately, but soon it was back in spades. Roberto rubbed her nipples, which went turgid and caused little electric charges to run through her body. Soon Magda was down to her chemise and corset only. She could feel Roberto’s engorged member on her leg. As Roberto exposed one of her nipples she started to stroke his cock. Roberto eased her down and she resisted it. Roberto kissed her and rubbed her nipples some more and finally nibbled her neck. This time when he eased her down she kissed his member.. She liked off a little bead of cum and surprisingly it was delicious.

After a few minutes Roberto slipped out from under her. Reassuring her, he moved behind Magda and ran his fingers over her quim, then circled her vulva with his finger again and again somehow not realizing that she also had a teeny tiny penis and finally slipped his finger inside. Soon it was two fingers going in and out and Magda began to feel a happy erotic warmth deep within. Roberto slipped his cock in and started a slow rhythm increasing the tempo faster and faster. Magda was breathing heavily and started to moan. Then she spasm ed and squealed.

Breathing heavily she said, “Enough! Enough! I’ll eat your cum” Roberto tried to get his member to her mouth, but it was too late. The cum got as far as her chest, but she took little dabs on her finger and licked it off.

The next day the three rode along the river toward Taos. For awhile the riding was easy through the deep grass a little way away from the river, but then canyon walls rose on both sides. The river was low at this time of year. About two miles in they were able to easily ford the western side of the river, and so it continued for all morning and into the early afternoon. They eventually emerged onto low angle pediments well above the river on the east side of the river after another ford. Before them to the northeast stood the Sangre de Christos with snow already a quarter of the way down the highest peaks. To the northwest the river extended northward in a cliff sided deep meandering canyon. Ahead of them was Taos, a three and a half hour ride.

A few miles south of Taos they found lodging again. In the throes of uncertainty and shame Magda slept in a bed with Flora, but she spent most of the night wide-eyed. At least 30 times the thoughts of “What have I done?” and “I can’t be a man anymore.” crowded into her mind. Sometimes when this happened she became shamefully aroused and touched herself in forbidden places. Then she would calm down and twenty minutes later it would start all over again. A few hours before dawn she drifted off into sleep.

The next day was colder and overcast, with spotty rain. Roberto and Flora continued toward Taos to trade the pelts for pesos. Magdalena, now wearing her buckskins, turned eastward along a small sometimes slow and sometimes swift flowing river toward Flechado Pass. As she rode on it got foggier and colder. She made it to the top of the pass in late afternoon. A light snow had fallen here, making the ground slippery in spots. Magda didn’t want to risk going down the steep eastern side of the pass in the dusk, so she spent a cold night camped out. Magda slept fitfully, she wondered why the cold bothered her. It hadn’t before. Then she guessed it was because she was female now.

In the morning Magda packed up camp, mounted Rusty with Bug eye on a lead rope and picked her way down the steep path to the east. By evening she had gone northeast from the pass, down a broad valley to the headwaters of the Cimmaron River and down along the river until the big trees were thinning out. Tomorrow she would ride out onto the Great Plains having eluded the alcalde and his men with a full load of 120 beaver pelts and two more behind the pack on Rusty. These would fetch a good price at Independence, Missouri. She could buy a real farm, or she could go trapping next year and get richer. After three more days she could take more of the potion and become Armand again. She excused herself for the sexual interludes, after all she was a woman. And, even now, she felt vulnerable no longer. There was no one around for miles Magda decided to celebrate all by herself. She gave her horses generous helpings from a 20 pound bag of oats in her stores. She measured it out in a special pouch that held almost two pounds that she sometimes hung from the pommel of her saddle. After dinner she polished off a half pint of whiskey and went to sleep.

That day Magda gave the horses a rest in the morning and started late. The following day she was in the Great Plains and by early afternoon had headed northeastward along the Santa Fe Trail towards Bent’s old fort. Happy with her progress she allowed herself to rub her crotch back and forth on the saddle and daydream, but riding in buckskins took a lot of the sensation out of it.

Late in the afternoon she realized that five riders were slowly closing on her from behind. She looked, then looked again. They appeared to be Indians. Worried, but not panicked she picked up her pace. Soon they picked up their pace too. She looked back again, but still she couldn’t identify them. She put her horses in a slow canter, waited a few minutes and looked back. The Indians were still closing and now she identified them as Comanches.

She checked her “Texas Paterson” revolver. It was loaded. She knew her musket would be hard to use on someone behind her. She fumbled in her left saddlebag until she found where her cartridges were, and managed to get a handful, maybe eight or ten in her pocket and pushed her ponies as fast as they would go. This time when she looked back the Comanches, their horses, unburdened by heavy loads were closing fast and now in range. One of them had raised his flintlock and was cocking it.

Magda pointed her pistol and fired it twice. She caught the man with the flintlock in the arm. She took two rapid breaths and fired three times more. A brave lurched, grabbed at his chest, and slumped in the saddle. As she started to turn to reload two muskets unloaded behind her. She felt an intense shock in her forearm. Her thumb and forefinger were useless, and the pistol dangled from her other fingers. Thinking quickly she realized she had a little time before the muskets could be reloaded. She holstered the revolver, reached for the potion in her pocket, and managed to open it.

Magda took what she guessed was an appropriate drought, managed to get the top on again and slipped it into the little oat bag. Then she started to reload the revolver as best she could. But, it was too late. A musket discharged again and she felt a wicked pain in her right side. She fumbled with her pistol as one Comanche came alongside and grabbed the reigns. In another second another was on the other side of her grabbing the revolver.

They tied her hands in front of her and took her firearms and trailed Rusty and Bug eye behind them. First they backtracked for their fallen comrade. When they reached him he was no longer among the living, so they tied him across his horse and trailed him too. They rode until almost sundown. Magda was getting weaker and weaker.

Finally they reached a depression with a spring and a few cottonwood trees. Two of them grabbed Magda and put her on the ground. Then they high lined all the horses on a rope stretched between the two trees.

While they were doing this a weak and dizzy Magda was saying to herself, “Dream what Comanches most fear.” About the fifth time she repeated it she passed out.

Magda had strange hallucinations. Night had fallen in these visions and a stringy fog emerged from her head. She could both experience it and see it from afar. It streamed toward one of the Comanches. Entering his head it twisted around inside. He screamed. His companions turned and stared in horror, then grabbed their guns and ran to their horses. As the apparition twisted about, the man’s body twisted, bucked and shook uncontrollably. He thrashed about and fell to the ground. Then the stringy fog emerged from his mouth and ears, and streamed toward the other fleeing braves who were now riding fast toward the south.. The nearest was about one hundred yards away. The fog entered his mouth, and as he emitted a gagging sound it gushed out his nose and slipped into it again. He screamed, thrashed and fell off his horse. Then the fog returned to Magda and the hallucination ended. She fell into a deeper sleep.

The sun on her face awakened Magdelena. “I’m alive.” she whispered. Strangely, the pain was gone, but she felt weak. She looked at her forearm, where the bullet blasted through. It had healed on both sides with a star-like scar on both sides. She felt her side, then looked at it. It had healed too. She rolled over and got on her knees, then struggled to her feet, her hands still tied.

Magda walked unsteadily to Rusty, and got her Arkansas toothpick from the saddlebag, then she quickly cut herself loose. She sat under one of the cottonwoods slowly getting a residuum of energy back, arose and made breakfast. After breakfast she untied Rusty from the high line, freed Bug eye and another horse from the line as well, and strung them behind Rusty.

Nearby was a dead Comanche, his face twisted in a horrified expression. A ways out was another was another with a blank stare on his face, babbling to himself, his horse grazing nearby. Magda realized he was no longer a threat, managed to help him get on his horse and slapped the horse in the rump. The horse walked off with his rider in the direction that the Comanches had fled that night. Magda found a musket left behind and added it to her collection of guns, saddled up and rode off.

Magda rode for a few hours and stopped for lunch, which was the remains from the Comanches camp; some roasted salt pork, beans and eggs all stuffed together cold in a little metal bucket. Then she rested an hour.

When Magdalena was ready to ride again she got up and looked in the mirror. What she saw was not Magdelena. A strawberry blonde was looking back at her. She used the mirror and scanned the rest of herself. She was thinner, just a little taller, with perkier breasts. Her eyes were no longer brown, but green. Again as she had several days before she tried to look herself all over, like a young girl in a new dress.

“I need a new name. Something appropriate. I am almost like an illusion now.” She remembered a newspaper article that she read last winter about a writer-explorer that went to Mexico and discovered strange Indian temples in the jungle. “Mayans, . . . yes Mayans, and Maya means illusion. My name will be Maya, Maya, Maya Datweiller. No. I was clever to survive last night. Dat, Dat, no Weiler, no Wiley, ’cause I’m wiley. Maya Wyley!”

The next two days Maya traveled slowly, getting her strength back. Then Maya remembered that she hadn’t been giving her horses their treats. She pulled the treat bag off her pommel, pocketed the potion bottle and gave half of the oats to Rusty and half to Bug eye. She then filled it halfway up and gave that to the other horse.

Maya reached back into her pocket and pulled out the potion bottle. The lid seemed loose. She opened it and looked in, it seemed almost totally drained. It was gone, or almost gone. She tried to carefully get the label off in the faint hope that the recipe was written on the back. The back was blank. She would be Maya Wiley for the rest of her life.

The horses were finishing up their snacks when Maya realized that the potion had spilled into Rusty’s and Bug eye’s oats. “Oh my God! Oh well, things happen.” Maya shrugged and grinned a little.

The next day Maya was in for major surprise. The Indian horse was contentedly grazing with some makeshift hobbles on, but Rusty and Bug eye were gone. There was a white stallion wearing Rusty’s saddle, and in place of Bug eye was an Appaloosa mare. “So that’s what you two dream about being!” Maya laughed. With two young and powerful horses toting her loads Maya’s entourage made great time that day.

That day was warm and no one was around so Maya pulled off her buckskin pants and rode in the saddle bare-assed. It felt good and she felt horny so she started to rub her clit on the pommel and the saddle horn. She kicked her horse into a trot and became more aroused. Soon her clit was juicy and the juice ran down the saddle. All at once the saddle horn popped into her quim. Maya let out a shriek of ecstasy and moved up and down on the horn. With all her rubbing and squirming she kicked the horse into a canter. Horse and rider were floating up and down. Now some of her juice dribbled out on the horse’s withers. The smell of her pussy juice blended with the earthy smell of the horse to create a heavenly aroma. Maya put her arms around the horse’s neck and bucked and squealed and came.

A few days past and Maya suspected that she was getting close to Bent’s Fort. She had decided to rename Rusty, Blizzard and Bug Eye, Raindrops for the dappled spots over her. This day, however, was not going well. Blizzard was horny and ornery and it took all of Maya’s strength and concentration to keep him moving forward. They stopped by a copse of trees on a tributary to the Arkansas to break for lunch, and Blizzard got worse. He was trying to mount Raindrop while that poor horse had a full load of pelts on her back.

Maya had enough. With much difficulty she tied Blizzard’s reigns to a tree. Then she took a length of rope and tied a hitch that wouldn’t come loose to his tail. The other end she tied to another tree and stretched him out. Blizzard tried to kick and complain, bot he couldn’t do much. Then Maya took all her clothes off and got under Blizzard. Snarling, “This will fix you.” she grabbed his cock with both hands and started jerking him off. “Oh wow!’ she soon said, “It’s a foot and a half long.” And it was.

By now there was a drop of cum on it’s tip and Maya couldn’t resist tasting it. She found it quite delicious and decided she wanted more, so she re positioned herself in front of the cock, put her mouth around the knob, almost, and wanked on. Blizzards eyes got big. He was panting heavily. He wanted to buck, but he was bound too well. Very soon Blizzard let go. The first mammoth squirt hit Maya in the back of the throat and dissapeared down her gullet before she could say “Guuh!” More came in gushes, and in seconds her mouth was full. The rest gushed down her chest. She crawled out, swallowed some more, looked at Blizzard and started uncontrollably laughing at the absurdity of it all. Cun

Then she turned around, two prepubescent Cherokee girls who had walked a little way down the river were staring at her wide eyed and giggling with their hands on their mouths. Maya could have crawled under a mud clod. Mortified and red faced she ran and put her clothes on. By the time she turned around the girls had ran off.

Maya stuck her face in the stream and washed it thoroughly, then she took all her clothes off and washed again. Finally she put them back on.

Maya walked back to Blizzard in a cold fury. She untied his tail. Underneath that he was flaccid. She walked around to the front end, untied and grabbed the reigns, looked Blizzard in the eyes and with little bits of stringy smoke issuing from around her eyeballs hissed, Don’t you ever try that again, or I will geld you!” Blizzard knew exactly what she meant, and he never did.

The next day Maya rode into Bent’s Fort. It was the grandest building west of Fort Leavenworth. A few hundred feet long with 15 foot high walls, a turret on the left end and a higher roof on the right side, the Fort glowed a soft golden tan in the late afternoon sun. A line of loupholes for muskets decorated the wall near the top.

Maya rode her train into the fort, tied her horses on the rail and walked into the trading room. William Bent was gone for at least a week arraigning for a future trade of general goods for buffalo robes, but his trading partner, Ceran, and his wife, Owl Woman were there. Maya told them she wanted to stay until she found a group to travel with heading east. Owl Woman nodded her approval.

The next morning two trail hands came in, got a few supplies, and learned that Maya was heading east.
They told her they were traveling that way too and that the three should buddy up for safety. Maya used her shadowy part to probe their brains and instantly realized that if she went with them she would be dead in a day. She politely declined. There was no one to partner with that day.

Another day broke, then close to noon Owl Woman noticed a large party coming in on a train from the northwest. “Arapaho,” she said, “and trappers.”

After a bit four Arapaho, three trappers and several horses came through the front gate. Maya instantly recognized Ike Nevers. Two years ago Maya trapped with him. She recognized the other two; Damien Martin who most people called Marty and Nestor Carbonneau. Fortunately Rusty and Bug eye didn’t look like themselves or she would have a lot of ‘splanin to do.

The three trappers were busy for awhile with Joe Whitefish, the leader of the four Arapaho. It became clear that Ike, Marty and Nes had spent two years around the Gallitien River trapping and wintering with the Arapaho. This joint trip was part of the deal because the trappers gave Ceran a stack of beaver pelts and Ceran gave the Arapaho all the goods their horses could carry and some credit.
Later Ike struck up a conversation with Maya. He found it quite interesting that a female trapper existed. The conversation turned to do you knows. Maya admitted to knowing a few trappers that she knew were dead and Armand. When Ike questioned her about Armand, Maya gave some details and said the last she saw him was a month ago in Santa Fe. Soon the four trappers agreed to go east together for protection and stepped outside of the trading room. When Maya saw the pile of beaver the other three had she gasped. It was close to eight times her load. The four of them decided to leave the next day.

Maya cashed in her two beaver for more supplies and as evening was coming on she saw a poor miner and his wife come in from the west with a horse and meager supplies. She went and questioned them, found that they were traveling east and invited them to join the group suggesting that one of them could ride her spare horse.

Maya then convinced Ike and his pals that this would be a good idea because the miner had a musket and derringer.

An hour after dawn the group of six headed out the gate following the trail eastward along the Arkansas. The first day was uneventful and so was the second. In the afternoon they entered an area that had been burnt over by prairie fire. It must have been a big one because it went on for miles. The new grass had only grown up half a foot. In late afternoon they stopped to camp.

That evening they bedded down and Ike and the miner squatted talking over the small fire as the rest bedded down. After awhile Maya thought she heard wagon slowly moving by off to the north. Then she thought she heard a dull thump. The wagon continued, then another thump. Pretty soon silence. Maya drifted off and half awoke when the moon started coming up. The fire had died to embers and someone, it appeared to be Nes was sitting hunched over on guard duty.

Maya thought she heard a noise off to the east behind Nes and she sat up. A minute she definitely heard a noise to the west of her. Twisting around she saw something big and shiny rising out of the short grass. “Nes,” she hissed, “Something is behind me.”

They both saw a shiny metal plate rising to vertical about thirty yards away. Nes jabbed Ike in the ribs, “Get up!” Maya shook the woman next to her and pulled her pistol from it’s holster.

Two shots rang out from behind the metal pate. Now everyone was up, grabbing their guns and hiding behind bales of pelts. The returned the fire.

Now shots rang out from behind them. Maya turned and looked. During this early distraction men with another plate on the east side moved into point blank range and started firing. They were caught in crossfire, with no place to hide and the first plate started to move closer as well.

As a bullet caught Ike in the thigh Maya started to summon her dark spirit from deep inside her. She emptied her revolver as the spirit spiraled out toward, and then over the eastern plate. A bullet caught the miner in the chest just before a bloodcurdling scream emitted from behind the metal screen. Maya twisted the pain and madness into the man’s brain.

Nes took a bullet in the shoulder, then in the gut, then he slumped over.

Maya redirected her phantom into another man. When the third man saw both of his companions in agonizing death throes he lost his nerve, scrambled back and ran toward where he thought the wagon was, catching a bullet in his side on the way.

Maya shouted, “The men in the east are dead, you can hide now!”

There were dark holes visible in the western plate. “Shoot for the holes” yelled Ike.

Maya discharged her two muskets as she maneuvered her spirit toward the west. Ike fired a lucky shot into a hole and hit someone, then Maya’s specter dived into another bandit and wreaked ultimate havoc. The remaining attacker slipped off into the darkness.

Helga, the miner’s wife found and lit a lantern, but Marty had to take it from her shaking hands when she found her dead husband. Nes had died as well, and Ike was limping around. Maya was psychically and physically exhausted and fell asleep.

In the morning Ike and Marty found Helga with her husband’s body. Maya was still sound asleep. The two trappers walked the area. The metal plates used in the ambush were about four feet wide by two and a half high with movable posts to prop them up with holes to fire through. From all the dents in them and the occasional hole where a musket ball actually got through the bandits had successfully pulled off several ambushes before this one. They found four bodies. The forth was the man that bolted for the wagon who died from his wound. They collected pistols, derringers , the wagon and horses.

When Maya got up she had lines in her face and still felt tired. Ike was limping, but he could ride. Helga said that she did not want to bury her husband in such an evil place, so they loaded up the horses and put the bodies in the wagon. As an afterthought Marty thought they should bury the plates with the bodies so they couldn’t be used for the same purpose again.

About two hours down the road the grass was deep near a slight bend in the river. There were some trees nearby. All of them set to digging the graves and soon both men were laid to rest. Marty said some verse he remembered from the Bible, they were covered with the plates and the rest of the holes were filled in. Helga made markers from a wagon sideboard and they rode on.

All day Helga had been avoiding Maya, staying as far from her as possible. Finally, she said to Marty, “When the men started firing something like fog came out of Maya’s head, then it went to the men, then it killed them.”

“Well . . . it was pretty dark, except for the moon. Perhaps there could have been a little ground fog.”

“There wasn’t any blood. I didn’t see any blood on two of them I looked at.”

When they stopped to water the horses Marty told Maya and Ike that he was concerned about the miner’s wife. “She said she saw fog coming out of Maya’s head that attacked two of the bandits.” All three agreed that the woman was overwrought and needed to be treated kindly.

The journey continued for days almost uneventfully. They sold the wagon to a trader whose wagon had slowly disintegrated on the way to Missouri for a small amount of money. Then the journey became uneventful again.

Helga still kept far away from Maya. Maya thought about this often on for days, “She knows. . Is this part of me, or something separate? . . . Will it eventually take control of me? . . .It saved me twice, I need it. . . Eventually many people will know and no one will want to be near me. . . It helps me read minds, I know people’s intentions. . .It has an affect on me, I still have those lines on my face. . . What do I do?”

As they traveled the moon waned to nothing and then grew again. As it grew Maya slowly thought of and accepted an answer.

That evening she had the second watch. Everyone was asleep and the waxing moon would soon go down in the west. Maya took a half drained bottle of whiskey and walked down to the river. She tried to call the entity out of her. Because there was no danger nothing happened at first, but finally it came out. It hovered before her and awkwardly at first Maya addressed it, “Whoever you are, whatever you are, you entered me and you saved me, twice. For that I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I know of nothing I can give you. Would this whiskey suffice?”

She stared at the wraith. It seemed to assent, but how? She made many gestures and sensed nothing until she pointed toward the river. She felt the assent in her, because part of it was still in there. She said goodbye to it, and poured the whiskey into the river. The wraith dived in after it.

Maya went back on watch.

By midday the next day they reached Council Grove as some heavy wet weather set in. They camped under the trees, next to a crude table someone had left there. It was perhaps the best shelter for fifty miles in any direction. This was where wagon trains often formed up to go west in the spring, but it was fall. There were two other parties here, probably going east and an Osage family, all sheltering from the weather.

Maya wanted to know if she could still do anything the apparition enabled her to do. Perhaps she could still read peoples intent. She talked Ike into a card game. From sad past experience she knew he was a great poker player. Maya and Ike each put up eight pelts, but they didn’t know what to do for chips. After asking everyone, the Osage woman said she had a bag of shells they could use.

The game started with an audience. They started with draw, Jacks or better. Maya played as she usually did and Ike started winning. When half her shells were gone Maya started to focus on Ike’s intent. Maya started winning. When Ike’s shells were half gone he called to switch to five card stud. Soon Maya had won it all. She took half her shells and slid them back to Ike.

“What did you do that for?’

“That was for fun, now it’s for real.”

Ike and Maya continued playing five card stud. When Ike’s shells were halfway down they switched to Chinese Poker. Maya cleaned him out again. Maya slid half the shells back to Ike saying, “I’m going to embarrass you again and again.” The whole crowd roared with laughter.

Ike said “OK, but let’s play five card Monte.”

“Why so?”

“Because it’s a scam, let me show you.” and he did.

“That Bitch! That Bitch Tula, I lost thirty pelts to her.”

Ike looked quizzical, thinking that the same thing happened to Armand. Maya read his thoughts and quickly changed the subject.

“Play me again Ike, but this time when you have a bad hand think happy thoughts, when you have a good hand think bad thoughts and play by instinct.”

“That’s interesting. OK I’ll try it.”

Soon Ike had cleaned Maya out.

“Time for me to embarrass you, Maya.”

“No it isn’t.” She left the table, a smile on her face. She still could read peoples minds.

Maya was her old self, whatever that was. Her thoughts turned to sex, quietly playing with her nipples and snatch under her blanket until she orgasm ed and fell asleep.

The next day dawned sunny. The lines in Maya’s face started to fade. Independence was less than a week away. After a few days they started seeing an occasional farm or hamlet. Finally they recognized that they were a day from their destination. When they camped that night they decided to have a celebration because they would be splitting up.

Ike told Maya that they were splitting up Nestor’s share of the pelts and that she could have some.

“No,” Maya said, “Give mine to Helga. She’s got nothing now.”

They got out a bottle of whiskey for a toast. Marty poured out three fingers in every ones cup. Maya poured a little water in her potion bottle to get the last drops out and started to pour it in her drink.

“What’s that?” asked Marty.

“It’s woman”s tonic.” lied Maya, “It makes us beautiful.”

“I could use that.” said Helga.

Maya poured the rest of the potion into the woman’s drink.

They toasted a successful trapping season. Then Maya said, “Let’s drink to ‘ lust for life’.”

Both men nodded assent, and they all drained their cups.

They had been on the road for three or four hours the next day when they approached a great wagon stopped by the side of the road. This was the grandest merchant’s wagon any of them had seen. It was painted red with yellow and black trim. On the side in guilded letters was the inscription “Maximilian van Dyke’s Fashion Emporium”. The rig was so large it took a team of eight horses to pull it.

Maya put one hand on her chest and extended the other toward the wagon, “Oh my God!”

A door in the back was open. Maximilian who was standing by the door welcomed her in. He explained that he drove his emporium all around western Missouri and Iowa for women in farms and small towns.

Maya entered the wagon, looked around, touched some clothes and came out wide-eyed. “I guess it will be goodbye for me. I am going to be inside for hours.”

They all said their goodbyes. Both men hugged her and even Helga held her hand. The rest of her companions rode down the road. Ike looked over his shoulder and yelled, “If you want to go trapping next year, you’re on.”

“How will you know where to find me?”

“I’ll send a letter to your brother in St. Paul.”

“Oh my God! He figured out who I was.”

Maya went back into the emporium. It contained a wonderland of woman’s clothing. Maya started looking at women’s corsets to replace her old one. She found a pink one that fit her pretty well, then shook her head. It wouldn’t do. After going through almost all of them she found one that complemented her eyes. The design was superb. She put it on and lightly tightened the ribbons. The whalebone corset stays were cantilevered in such a clever way that part of it cut down three inched below her breasts, yet it held her snugly. She could wear this with tops or dresses with deeply plunging necklines. She asked Max to cinch her up snugly, which he gladly did. She looked at herself in the full length mirror and a warm wave of pleasure ran up and down her spine. It was fabulous.

“How much is it? “she asked.

“It’s free”

“What!”

“It’s free. While you were shopping the man with a limp came back and left you some credit. Then he left.”

Maya looked over toward the door. There was a pile of fifteen beaver pelts stacked up there. Maya went back to shopping. Eventually she found a matching Bolero jacket, culottes for riding and skirt for evening in an emerald green that brought out the color of her eyes. These went in her must have pile. A couple of pale green silk low cut tops went in the pile too. As she was systematically going through everything she noticed a smallish metallic egg among some other items toward the back of Max’s desk. She shook it. It appeared to have something heavy inside that slid backwards and forwards.

“What’s that,” Maya asked.

“It’s a toy of sorts. I may show you how it works later.”

Maya continued shopping until she used up all her credit. It was late afternoon and she thought she had gone through all of Max’s stock. Recent rains settled the dust on the road and whatever she wore would stay nice. She decided to wear a new outfit. She stripped down to her silky underthings and the corset and start from there. She wore the corset for so long that it had started breaking in, shaping even more to her body, or perhaps her body shaping more to the corset. She had Max help her tighten it up a little more. Then she slid on some off-white sheer stockings and attached them to the garters at the bottom of the corset.

Then Maya put on one of the pale green silk tops. It was very soft and feminine, with ruffles along a deep v neck and ruffles on the sleeves. This was followed by the culottes and the Bolero jacket. Finally she slipped on some 4 inch high heels that laced on, showing some of the sheer stockings between the laces that went another 4 inches up her calves.

When she was dressed, Maya started to makeup her face with some of the cosmetics she selected. As she seemed to be having trouble with this, Max helped her. Finally she put on some pendular earrings that had emerald colored stones in them.

She went back to the full length mirror. She gasped when she saw herself. She was stunning. She turned around and looked at Max.

“Did you know that that outfit is all the rage in Argentina this year?” said Max.

Maya stepped forward and put one hand on each side of Max’s face. “Then I shall go to Argentina!” she announced, and started a little dance step, forward and back, all while still holding Max’s face in her hands. She tried reading his mind a little, and what she read caused her to stare into his eyes, break into a slight smile and look slightly downward.

She dropped her hands to his shoulders and he put his hands on her shoulders and they continued to dance a little more. Maya became bold, “You will attend my horses for the evening and secure my pelts in a safe place, then you will make us a delicious meal with candlelight and wine and then you will bed me.”

“Yes, my lady. I will do all that and more.” said Max and he kissed her hand.

Dusk fell as they dined. Dessert consisted mainly of stroking each others hands and looking into each others eyes. Maya intuited that Max was imagining her bound. This intrigued her and turned her on. She had never felt helpless and vulnerable that way before.

That evening went as she planned, however, before they went to sleep Max told her that she had a problem that needed correcting. “You simply need to learn to use makeup properly. You cannot get away with it. We are both heading toward St. Louis and if you want to travel with me I will teach you.”

Maya thought this was a good idea.
Max had more to say. “You have to know how to do this by heart. If we do this there will have to be discipline; severe consequences for when you do it wrong. Do you agree?”

Maya gave Max a funny look, but in the end she agreed. They would start tomorrow evening.

The next day in Independence Max was busy with customers, but he closed a little early.

Face creams, foundations, powders and face makeup sat in front of Maya on the makeup table. Sometimes Maya used them well, but sometimes she made a mess, and they started over twice. Maya had a loose chamese over her clothes and by the time she was done Max discarded it into the empty clothes hamper.

For her performance Maya was rewarded with a spanking on her legs and thighs with a riding crop. Then they tried all over again. Maya did better, but she was nervous now and didn’t get it all right.

“I think my punishment was not appropriate last time, so we will do something different, “Max mused.

He removed the clean chamese he had put over her and tightened her corset ribbons, saying that the corset should be even tighter. Maya felt a little dizzy from the compression. Then he lead her to a corner of the wagon where there was a wooden carousel horse on a pole with a mechanism under it. Usually this was used to keep kids occupied while their mothers shopped. Max pulled out some wider silk ribbon and tied Maya’s hands together. He seated her on the horse and tied her hands to the pole. He tied her feet to the stirrups. He slid a ball with a ribbon on it into her mouth and tied it behind her head.

Max reached down to the mechanism and moved a ratchet lever back and forth for awhile. When the great spring of the mechanism was finally fully cocked he went to his desk and grabbed the silver egg, rubbing oil on it.

Max returned reached down and slid the egg into Maya’s clit.

Maya’s eyes popped wide open and she uttered, “Uggh!” Then Max flipped a switch and the horse started going up and down. This was pleasant, yet just slightly arousing, and just when Maya was getting used to it Max threw another lever. The horse went up and down twice as fast. The horse’s movement now made the weight in the egg bounce up and down. Maya could feel this strange device bounce up and down inside her. It was annoying at first, but then she became more and more aroused. She made grunty noises and her juices started to flow.

Max slipped his hands under the chemise and found Mayas nipples. First he pinched them, then he eased up and slowly twisted them back and forth, then he pinched them again, finally he put a nipple clamp on each and tightened them. Maya squealed and started breathing heavily as she became more and more aroused. She was helpless. She couldn’t do anything about it. She found herself twisting and rubbing against the wooden saddle of the wooden horse. She had no control over herself.

The carousel horse started to wind down. Max stopped it, untied Maya’s hands and feet and easily led the reeling woman to his bed. He retied her on the bead; face down, hands over her head, knees apart so that her ass was up in the air. He slipped the gag off of a panting Maya, slipped out the egg, slipped off the nipple clamps and skillfully manipulated her clit. His name wasn’t Max for nothing. It described his member perfectly. He slid just its head into her pussy.

In another few seconds Max would be deep inside Maya. She felt helpless and degraded and couldn’t help it. She started to cry. She cried and cried as Max bottomed deep inside her. As he humped her with deep long strokes a fire built within her and her crying changed to screams of lust. Maya started bucking, interspersing moans and screams. Varves of pleasure spread throughout her body.

Max’s member swelled even bigger, then erupted like Vesuvius, which kicked off Maya’s uncontrollable spasms and orgasm. As it subsided a combination of cum and Maya’s juices trickled down her leg. Max took his finger, collected some and put it to Maya’s mouth. She licked it off and asked for more.

Max untried her. They rested a bit. Max got hard again and Maya sucked him off. Then Max fell asleep.

The next evening and the evening after the lessons continued, and Max, Maya and the emporium traveled forty miles toward St. Louis. Maya improved her makeup technique until Max thought it was time to move on to something else.

That night Max said that they were going to start on eye makeup. “The first part of your eye makeup training will be to learn to show off your eyes as a lady with assorted eye makeup.”

The eyes were harder to do than the face, and on Maya’s first try she looked like a raccoon. Max put her on the carousel horse again, as before, but made certain that she never got to orgasm and relief. Instead, a frustrated and horny Maya had to sit down at the makeup table again and do her eyes. Again she failed and again she went back on the horse.

They did nothing the next evening. Max wanted her to think about what she was doing wrong. Then the following night they tried again. This time Max said she did better, but she still would have to ride the horse. He rewarded her by laying her face down on the bed and easing a dildo into her pussy. Then he put some grease on his finger and slid it into her backside. When she relaxed he slid another and then another finger into her while fingering her clit at the same time.

Maya got hotter and hotter and finally wanted more, so he pulled out his fingers and put in his member instead. They both climaxed soon afterward.

When they had traveled for three or four days more Maya had all that Max taught her learned to perfection.

A few nights later Max said, “Now it’s time to learn to make up your eyes like a floozy!” Max had her get into an outrageous corset and dress, put a towel around her shoulders and had her make up her face, except for the eyes. With Max’s instruction she ran brilliant color all over her eyelids and up to her eyebrows. After delineating the eyebrows and blending them, Max opened a little box. In it were thin little strips of fox fur. Max pulled out a few of these and glued them on above Mayas eyelashes. When they were done Max pulled in three full length mirrors and Maya looked at herself. She couldn’t believe what she saw; an incredibly slutty erotic looking woman.

Max told her that she was to use every erotic trick in her bag to get him off and to do it while watching herself in the mirror. Maya slowly stripped him and took his balls in her hand, licking them with the tip of her tongue. Then slowly she took his cock into her mouth. She glanced into the mirror and was mesmerized by herself. She licked his toes and up the back of his legs to his ass, slipped in the dildo and resumed sucking his balls. Then she mounted him and watched herself as she bounced up and down on his member until he came. Maya took her finger, touched her mascara and drew it away from one of her eyes. “Oops, raccoon eyes. She smirked.

“That won’t go unpunished!” said Max. They were near a town, so he blindfolded her and put her on a horse, rode her a mile down to the saloon, and told the madame in the back to keep her busy for the night. He came and picked her up the next morning.

St. Louis was the hub of fur trading and Maya could get the best prices there. Two days later they approached the outskirts of St. Louis. Maya knew it was time to leave and get on with her life. She dressed meticulously in her Bolero jacket and culottes and got ready to leave. Before she did Max gave her a hat to match her outfit and a large beautiful embroidered satchel to carry her best outfits. Inside it was a bronze handled mirror, and several other surprises. They said their goodbyes and Maya rode off.

As she left with her three horses, two muskets, two pistols, a derringer and a two passels of beaver pelts Maya thought, “I started out this trip as a man and ended it as a woman, and I would have it no other way!” She touched herself between the legs and a warm feeling radiated into her. She smiled and rode into the East.

The End