I hitched up my mules to the work wagon the next morning, put the bundle of weapons along with the guitar in the seat box, and headed to Las Cruces. I...pulled up to the stable just after one, jumped down, grabbed the guitar, and went in search of Mr. Mendoza. I found him in his usual spot.“Good afternoon, Mr. Mendoza. Can I use the hayloft for a few days? I really don’t think I can stand the beds at the Drovers Inn, anymore.”He just gave me a small smile and a quick nod, while continuing to work. To him, she looked sexy.“You’re so beautiful!” he said, his voice hushed.“I’m fat you moron!” she said in mock gruffness.“I wish you’d stop saying that. I’ve told you again and again. You’re beautiful,” he insisted. “You’re so beautiful it makes my stomach hurt!” he said, bending over. Actually, his stomach didn’t hurt at all. But his penis had decided that his foster-sister was very beautiful and had stood up at attention to announce that. Bending over helped conceal his traitorous cock. He. More

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