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Mumbling I said OK. He made me some food and brought it to the table. Nervous, I was about to eat. Mr Smith put his hands on my shoulders and rubbed. I didn't know what to do. He reached down and slid his hand under my shirt. He rubbed my chest, then leaned down and rubbed my stomach. Whispering he said, why don't we take this off. I started feeling funny as he unbuttoned my shirt. Pulling it off he said, let's sit by the television. I don't know why, but I followed him. He sat in the chair and pulled me in front of him. Looking up he asked, did you have fun yesterday. Nodding my head I squeaked out yes. Putting his hands on my chest he said, that's good. He rubbed my chest then moving down he slid his hands to my sides. Reaching my waist he said, are you nervous. Yes I said quickly. Smiling he said, it's OK. We're friends right. Shaking I nodded my head. Mr Smith popped the button and slowly pulled down the zipper. Spreading my pants open he said, I think I found something like. Sara had been watching from the dirty glass window, one of the few still remaining in the house. She had, by her best recollection, just passed her eighteenth birthday and this was the first person besides her mother and father she had seen in over two years. She was, at present, alone and very much frightened. Her parents were out gathering what wood they could find to help supplement the buffalo chips that fueled their cook stove and fireplace. She knew they wouldn't return for several more hours owning to the distance that had to be traveled. Getting to town took even longer, almost an entire day it was so far distant. Now she was faced with a problem without anyone to help her. From over the only door she took down the trusty Winchester rifle, checked to make sure there was a shell in the chamber, as cautiously opened the door. Thumbing back the hammer she aimed the loaded rifle at the still form laying next to the trough and slowly moved closer.The man lay still, his breathing.
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