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the man reached up to feel his neck, finding only the stubble of a days old beard. "How long?" he managed to get out. "Six days," came the reply. "Youre lucky to be alive. For the first few days I was sure you wouldnt make it, but after the fever broke, you steadily got better." She smiled. "Im Mary, by the way, and like I said, well chat more tomorrow." With that she smiled, turned, and left. As the next few days passed, the man, who Mary learned was Philip, steadily regained his strength, and they learned each others stories. Philip, it seems, was traveling from Boston to California with a supply convoy as a guide when the convoy was attacked by outlaws. The bulk of the convoy was destroyed, as were the outlaws, but with the few surviving members of the convoy they were unable to proceed. Philip rode to the nearest town, obtained new horses and volunteers, and then returned. Then, on a scouting mission, his horse stumbled, and when he hit the ground, a rattler bit him just below the right jaw. The next thing he remembered was waking in Marys home. As for Mary, well, she moved west with the homesteaders about four years ago. As a safety precaution, she always told people it was with her husband, Jacob, who was a trapper, but the actual fact was that she was alone. She always found that when people thought she had a husband, they always underestimated her, and so she developed the story of a trapper husband, who naturally was away for long periods of time. As the days past and Philips strength returned, he became more insistent on repaying Mary for her kindness. She wouldnt accept any form of payment, however, saying that it was what anyone else would have done, and so Philip had to sneak about doing odd jobs that he felt could in some way compensate, but it never did feel like enough. As for Mary—well, truth be told, she liked having this man around. He was charming in his own gruff sort of way and did have a nice tendency to get under her skin, even if the jobs he did to repay her usually required redoing. Thinking back, the real trouble probably started on the last day Philip was to stay. He decided that of all the jobs he could do, the one Mary might appreciate the most, would be to cut wood. Slipping out of the house as the sun rose, he began the task of cutting and stacking a few cords of wood, only to awaken Mary with the rhythmic sound of the ax hitting the logs. At first, she was mildly curious as to the cause of the sound and had to smile when she looked out the window to see him working there. Then, as the day progressed, she found herself going out of her way to watch him more and more frequently. It began with brief looks that gradually got longer,


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until after almost three hours after he had begun she found herself back inside the cabin once again, looking out the window. Philip was now stacking the chopped pieces and she couldnt help but admire his form. Each time he bent to pile the pieces her eyes trailed over his arms and down his torso settling at last to watch the way his pants stretched across his tight butt. She absently began tracing the collar of her shirt as she watched, and as her fingers came to the first button, they opened it. Again and again, Philip bent, piled, and stacked the cut pieces as she continued to trace the collar with her fingers. A second button was opened absently, and then a third, and finally her fingertips were tracing the swell of her soft, sexy breasts. Philip began removing his shirt, and this time Marys fingers brushed the now hard nipple, causing a soft moan to escape her lips. She closed her eyes for a moment as the nipple scraped along the work-roughened fingertips until her hand went farther, cupping the swollen breast and trapping the nipple with her the thumb and forefinger. Another, deeper moan escaped her lips, and again she closed her eyes, imagining that it was his hands teasing her now hot skin. As her eyes fluttered open, Mary saw that Philip had moved to the well and was cranking up the bucket. His back muscles rippled with each crank, and her other hand began to gather the material of her skirt. Picking up the bucket, Philip poured the contents over his head, and within the cabin Marys fingers glided over the soft hair of her pussy. A shiver raced through her body as both the sight of this rugged man sweating and wet combined with the excitement of her manipulations, and so she again closed her eyes. This time she slipped a finger deep inside the folds of her pussy, in and out, in and out. It seemed to be just seconds later when she was snapped back to reality by the sound of the door opening, forced to stop just as she was on the brink of an orgasm. Turning the corner, Philip came in and asked if there was a towel handy, but as he got the words out his gaze fell on Marys open shirt. God, she was beautiful. The mere sight of her shirt showing off the inner swells of her sweet breasts as they rose and fell with her labored breathing mesmerized him, but somewhere inside he managed to ask if everything was OK. Still recovering from her previous state, she was unable to answer for a moment, then stammered a shaky yes. She turned, retrieved the towel, and then handed it to him, noting as she did so that he had turned away. Odd, she thought, but at least this way she could see his sweet muscular form up close. Her gaze trailed down from his shoulders along the