Millie's Western Adventure

by Lubrican

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Chapter Two

Doc stared down at the girl on his table. He was beginning to be concerned. She'd been out for a long time. She was very pale, and that didn't bode well. He picked up the needle he'd used to stitch up her wound and began prodding various places on her body, looking for reaction. He got normal pain reflexes from her body, suggesting the nerves were working, but she didn't wake up.

Next he pressed his ear to her chest, listening to her heart. It was strong, but seemed slower than normal. She was clearly in shock. He began reviewing ways he could increase her heart rate to move her blood faster through her body, which would get more blood to her brain, too. Almost all of them required the patient to be awake and helping.

Something popped into his mind. It had been part of an argument several of his teachers had engaged in, back when he was training for the war. That argument hadn't been about wounded men. Rather, it had been about a way to invigorate the spirit of a woman. It had been entertaining then, listening to the older men proposing that stimulating a woman's sexual parts could have medicinal value, but now it suddenly seemed preposterous. Still ... she was naked, and good looking under her injuries, so rationalizing it was easy.

He thought about it now. His gut instinct was that it was clearly wrong. It bordered on rape. On the other hand, she might die unless he got her blood flowing. The shock could kill her otherwise. And while the theory of it all was something to be argued, the results - if it worked - were clearly what she needed right now.

Doc looked around to make sure he hadn't missed closing off all the ways people could see into his surgery. When he was satisfied he was alone, and that there were no witnesses, he began to stroke the woman's skin, massaging her. He knew this was causing pain where his hands moved over her injuries, but if that pain woke her up, all the better.

Her breasts had not been injured. He felt a bit peculiar molding his hands around them, moving them around on her chest. They were firm. He had seen no stretch marks, and the tight density of her breasts under his hands convinced him she'd never given birth, or suckled a baby.

This was causing feelings in him that weren't welcome. It had been a long time for Doc, since he'd had a woman. And he'd never had one who was young and pretty like this one. Not that he intended on doing anything past getting her heart beating harder, but it still seemed like rape - that's what it would be in his mind, with her unconscious like this. Without conscious intent, his hands took on a more languid motion as they moved from massaging her breasts, to playing with them. It was still part of a massage, so he felt only the discomfort brought on by the guilt of enjoying it. The nipples, which had been flat, almost non-existent before, now showed signs of life. They rose from the pale areolas, until he could pinch them between thumb and forefinger. When he rolled them they became stiff and turgid. He felt the amazement a physician always feels when he could observe how the body worked, even if he didn't understand all the processes.

He realized he was stiff in his pants. He looked at the patient. She was still white as a sheet. He thought of the rest of it, as it had been described by an older doctor, back when they took a break from receiving hurried semi-formal instruction, before being sent off to the battlefield. There were arguments, for and against, in his mind. What decided him was the fact that if she never woke up, there'd be no possibility she'd find out, and therefore no hurt or embarrassment. And if she did wake up ... well as long as she didn't do it while he was actually engaged in things ... it was still unlikely she'd ever know what he'd done.

He wet the first and middle fingers on his right hand in his mouth, and slid them to the woman's vulval vestibule. He had to stop and spread her legs so he could get better access, then returned his fingers to her sex. He felt for the clitoral bulge and massaged it gently, rubbing his fingers in a small circle.

While he did this, he watched her face. He rubbed for two or three minutes, and was about to give up, feeling shamed, when he began to sense moisture seeping from her vaginal canal. Another couple of minutes passed and she was obviously wet. The slippery nature of that wetness made his motions much smoother. Almost suddenly he saw color coming back into her cheeks. Her breathing deepened too and her breasts rose higher. Her nipples were now turgid and hard. He kept rubbing until there was a significant increase in moisture between her legs.

Well, that part of her body was working fine, and he was pretty sure that was more than just nerves reacting to stimulus. That reaction involved the brain, and his feelings of guilt vanished as he decided it had been the right thing to do, from a medical point of view.

He didn't like this at all. Actually, the reality of it was that he liked it entirely too much. That was the real problem. He felt like some kind of animal for thinking that if she lived, and couldn't pay for her care, then perhaps some arrangement could be worked out. But only if she were amenable, of course.

Something struck him and he stopped his clitoral massage. He went to her feet and spread her legs more, pushing her feet up beside her buttocks. That opened up her crotch to him obscenely, but got her in the position she needed to be in for what he wanted to find out. With opposing fingers he pried her sexual lips open and peered at the bottom of her vagina. The thin, translucent membrane was easily seen.

She was a virgin!

Doc was puzzled. A girl this old anywhere west of Kansas City would have a baby by now, maybe even two. She came off the train, but whoever was accompanying her had not showed up. True, once the train had left, her husband ... or chaperone ... would have to get it stopped and then walk back, unless he ... or she ... had a horse in the baggage cars. But they should have heard something by now, even if it was just a telegraph message. She'd been missing from that train for hours.

He looked back up at her face. Her cheeks were pink now, though her breathing had slowed since he stopped stroking her clitoris. He moved up to her shoulder and, stared at her. Yes, her color was much better now. He had done enough. He started, intentionally, to turn aside but, unable to resist the temptation, bent over to suck one of her nipples into his mouth. He nursed on it, feeling its rubbery length in his mouth, and playing with it with his tongue. He pulled off and was amazed to see it had extended even further, maybe half an inch. The baby that suckled these nipples was going to be a happy, happy baby. He did the other one and slid his hand back to her groin.

She moved! Then she moaned. He stopped his manipulations of her immediately and got his smelling salts. He waved them under her nose and she frowned. Then her eyes popped open. He saw terror in those eyes and wondered what was going through her mind.

"There there," he said soothingly. "You're all right now. You don't need to be afraid. Everything is fine now." He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently to reassure her.

Her eyes focused on his. They were blue, brilliant blue, a blue so bright and deep it was like looking into a deep pool of water. "Where am I?" she asked faintly. "Who are you?" Her eyes filled with something he recognized immediately. "It hurts! Everything hurts!"

"My name is Doctor Fisk. You were injured in an ... accident. You're in my surgery. What's your name, miss?"

"I'm ... I'm ..." her eyes went out of focus, as if she were concentrating on something inside her head. "I don't know who I am!" There was a weak, but rising tone of panic in her voice.

"There there," he murmured again, patting her shoulder. "Let's not worry about that right now. You've had a bump to the head, and you'll probably remember everything in a little while. Don't worry about it for now, all right?"

Her chin lowered as she looked at the hand patting her shoulder.

"I'm naked," she said, as if she were pointing out that she sometimes wore her hair down, instead of piled up on her head.

"Your clothing was torn to shreds and I had to take it off of you to treat your wounds," he explained.

"Oh," she said. Clearly she was still not able to understand everything. "I have other clothes. Don't I?" her question confirmed that she wasn't sure about that. She tried to sit up.

"Owwwww," she cried and collapsed back on the table. She began moaning piteously.

"You must try not to move," cautioned Doc. "I had to sew up one of your injuries. You're going to have to stay here for a little while, to recuperate. You just lie there and I'll go and find something to cover you with."

Those astonishingly innocent and deep blue eyes traversed the ceiling and fixed on his face. He felt movement in his groin and realized he was still erect. Just this woman's eyes were enough to make him think about ...

He pushed those thoughts out of his head. He turned and went to a cupboard where he knew there was a horse blanket a cowboy had paid him with for sewing up a nasty gash where he had been gored by a longhorn. He pulled it out. He hadn't had any use for it until now, since he had an old buggy that he'd been given for delivering a baby and saving the mother's life when the delivery got ugly. That was pulled by a swaybacked horse that had to be sixteen years old if it was a day, which was his payment for taking off old Joe Miller's left leg after it went gangrenous because of infection in a compound fracture. As he unfolded the blanket he could tell it wouldn't do. It was much too rough, and there were horsehairs all over it. Besides, it smelled terrible. He kept looking, but there was nothing in his surgery that could double as either clothing or suitable covering for his patient.

Doc went to the door and opened it, peering outside. Boots was napping on the porch, her hat down over her eyes and one foot cocked up.

"Boots!" he barked.

She put one finger to her hat brim and pushed it up, looking up at him. "Ya don't haf'ta yell Doc," she said.

"She's awake. I need some clothes for her, or a sheet or something to cover her up with. Clothes. She's going to have to have clothes. See if they'll give you something at the general store. And if they demand payment, remind them that I pulled their oldest boy's tooth when it was giving him fits and they never paid me for it."

You never could tell how Boots would react to a given situation. She went from napping and complaining to instant explosive activity. She jumped up and took off running like a scalded cat, causing several people to dive for cover, since when Boots was moving like that, gunplay usually erupted soon after.

While she was gone, Doc interrogated his patient.

He didn't learn much, because she couldn't remember much. Each time she tried and failed, she grew a little more frantic and he had to calm her. He had no idea how long this amnesia might last, but he tried to calm her as much as he could. He decided that if she had a name that might help. Her pain was stronger than she was used to dealing with too, which caused delays as she tried to cope with it. He offered her whiskey and was not at all surprised when she snapped that she didn't drink. He'd already decided this girl had breeding. And all that did was make it even stranger that no one had inquired about her.

"Well," said Doc, "Until you remember your real name, how about we call you Millie. Is that suitable?"

"I suppose it's as good as any name," she said. "What's to happen to me?"

"Until we find out who you are, and where you're supposed to be, I think we could put you up in the schoolmarm's house. We don't have a teacher right now, and that place is empty." A thought came to Doc. "I don't suppose you can read?" he asked.

"Of course I can read," she said immediately. "How odd! I can remember that, but I can't remember my own name." She frowned. "At least I think I can read," she said doubtfully.

Doc looked around and saw an old copy of the Prairie Gazette by the stove. He had planned on using the pages in it to start fires in the stove when cold weather arrived. He retrieved it and handed it to his beautiful patient. She unfolded it as if she'd handled newspapers before and began to read.

"The trouble between the sheep ranchers and the cowmen was exacerbated recently when six sheep were found shot and left to rot on the Anderson spread. Josh Anderson vowed to find out who had committed the heinous crime and exact revenge."

Doc whistled. "You can sure read. There's two or three words in that paragraph I don't even know the meaning of."

He pointed to the words and she explained them to him. Doc went to his desk and got out the list of what people owed him for his services. "Can you add up those figures?" he asked

Millie added them in her head, without even a nib. Doc got his quill and added the figures himself. She was dead on.

"Millie, my dear," he said. "I believe we just found ourselves a new school teacher!"

"I'm a teacher?" she asked, clearly puzzled.

"You know far more than most folks in these parts. If you can teach kids hereabouts to read and cipher, that's plenty." Doc began quizzing the naked girl about world events he was aware of and found that she knew much more about things than he did. She obviously came from back East, where news was easier to get.

Boots came tearing back into the surgery. In her hands were a gingham dress and a pair of boots that looked like they might fit a young man. "I had to convince the storekeeper that he needed to part with these things," she said. "But he wouldn't go for the frilly unmentionables the ladies wear around here. This is the best I could do without gunplay."

Doc smiled. "You did just fine, Boots. I'd like to introduce you to Millie, our new school teacher," he said grandly.

"She remembered who she is?" asked Boots.

"No, but we found out she's probably as smart as most of this town all put together, and until we can figure out who she is she's going to teach school."

"I am?" asked Millie. "Don't you have to talk that over with the school board? Or at least the town fathers?"

"Don't have a school board, and the town fathers will do what I tell 'em. Less'en they want to support you while we make inquiries. Since that would come out of their pockets I doubt very much they'll want to argue about things. You got injured at their Depot, so I suspect they'll be only too happy to trade you room and board for teaching while things get straightened out. You just act all snippety, like a lady would and complain about how shabby that little house is, and a few things like that. You might mention that you have a lawyer friend back East who might be interested in how you got hurt and abandoned and all that. And bat your eyes at them a lot. You're a handsome woman Millie, and that will play long and hard for you with the old geezers you'll be dealing with."

The situation was so odd for all of them that, when Doc helped Millie make a painful transition from lying on the table to standing beside it, the fact she was still stark naked didn't seem to affect them as it might have under other conditions. Boots gazed frankly at the lush curves of this woman and sighed. She'd never look like that. "You sure are pretty ma'am," she said.

"Why thank you," said Millie automatically. Then she realized how naked she was and blushed. "Oh my, you must think me a hussy." She tried to cover her breasts and crotch, with little success.

"Now now" said Doc. "I've seen you already, when I examined you, and Boots is a woman too, so there's no need to feel uncomfortable. Let us help you with the dress. It's going to be painful for you to bend over or raise your arms for a while."

Boots stepped up to help and, together, they got Millie's arms up as she winced and bit her lip. They slid the dress down over her nakedness and it flowed over her breasts. It caught on her hips, but a tug got it down. She looked completely normal, except for the fact that the cloth sliding over her nipples had caused them to spike. Millie saw that as she looked down, and covered her breasts with her hands.

"Aw shucks, ma'am," said Boots. "Mine do that too sometimes. I almost had to kill a man who ran his mouth about it once upon a time."

"Speaking of which," said Doc. "I've never examined you since that day you got here, Boots. You need a checkup for sure at your age."

Boots' face got wary. "Now Doc, don't you go gettin' no ideas about seeing me nekkid. Last man what did, before you, is worm food and that was too good fer 'im." She paused, staring at the doctor. "'Sides, I feel jest fine."

Doc looked at the scruffy young woman and wondered briefly what she'd look like cleaned up. Then he remembered what she'd looked like back then, and the evidence of what that animal had done to her sexually. It wasn't odd she had no interest in either men or sex.

"Good enough, Boots," he said softly. "I expect you know best."

The other woman in the room moaned, and Bob looked to see her leaning sideways. She had a hand over her abdomen now, rather than her breasts, and she was pale again.

"It hurts," she whispered.

Bob went to a cupboard and fished in his pockets for a ring of keys. He stopped at one of the few cabinets that had a lock on it, selected a key and opened the lock. He pulled the door open and reached inside, removing a dark brown bottle.

"What's that?" asked Boots, curiously.

"Laudanum," said the doctor. "Don't use it often, but I think it's needful now."

He searched for a spoon but couldn't find one. In the end he simply took the cork out of the neck of the bottle and placed the tip to Millie's mouth. Her eyes, which had closed, fluttered open.

"What...?" she mumbled.

"Take a sip of this," he said, tipping the bottle up.

Knowing the taste was foul, he only wet her lips before letting the bottle back down so that if she spit it wouldn't waste any. The stuff was hard to come by and this was his last bottle. She made a face and raised a hand to push weakly at his wrist.

"You need this," he urged, pressing the bottle to her lips again. "I know it tastes terrible, but swallow some."

He tipped the bottle again and she let some into her mouth. Her face scrunched up, but she swallowed.

"One more," he insisted, and got another swallow down her.

Within minutes she slumped into his arms. Boots helped him carry the woman into the back of the building, where Bob lived. There was only one bed, of course, but he didn't hesitate to put the woman on it. She was well out of it now, her mouth hanging open loosely. He knew she'd sleep for several hours, and hoped that would be enough to give her the strength she'd need to deal with the pain when she woke up. He didn't plan to give her more of the drug.

"So where you gonna sleep, Doc?" asked Boots. She looked at him frankly.

"I'll manage something," he said.

"You gonna undress her?"

He looked at Boots with surprise. "Of course not," he said. "Why would you ask me that?"

"Most men would," she said softly. "Most men would fuck her."

He felt actual shock that a woman had used such a coarse word, even if that woman looked like a man most of the time. It must have shown in his face because she laughed at his discomfiture.

"Hell, Doc, it's only a word."

"I'm not most men, Boots," he said, trying to salvage some dignity.

"I'll admit that's true," said the scout. She turned to leave. "It's prob'ly why you're the only man in town I've never thought about cutting his dick off of."

He felt the blood drain from his face at the casual way she said it. He suddenly had no doubt that the woman was fully capable of carrying out such a threat. He stared at her. She grinned and he had an errant thought that her teeth were probably the most perfect he'd seen in years.

"You're safe, Doc, cause you're a dyed in the wool gentleman. Take good care of our new schoolmarm. I've had a hankerin', once in a while, to learn my letters. Maybe she'll teach me too."

Bob blinked, astonished yet again at the behavior of this woman he'd taken for granted these last few years. He turned back to his patient, wondering if she'd be as interesting as the barely civilized tracker who'd just left. His eyes wandered to her thrusting breasts, under the thin gingham cloth. The nipples had relaxed and were no longer visible. His penis lurched in his pants. His initial assessment had been wrong. She would be a good looking woman when the bruises and scrapes healed. He hadn't seen a body like that in a long time. Most of the women in these parts, if they needed a doctor at all, preferred to stay completely clothed while they were examined.

He sighed again. Maybe Boots was a lot smarter than folks gave her credit for. He felt slightly guilty for wanting to see this young woman naked again. And the thought of lying with her, even if it was only to lie there, finished filling his penis with blood. He groaned, looked over his shoulder at the door to his room and then hauled out his stiff organ. He let his eyes roam over the unconscious girl's form as he stroked slowly. Then, remembering her soft, white skin and the pouting sexual lips below where he'd sewed her up, his hand speeded up. He arched his back and pushed his rod toward the girl as it spurted lines of white. He knew he'd have to get a rag and clean up, but he didn't care. It felt better this time than it had in years.

Gasping for air, the guilt came back as he realized how the girl would have felt if she'd awakened while he was lusting after her. Her mouth was still loose and open, though, her breathing deep and regular.

Refastening his trousers, the doctor turned and left the room. It was a bit early, but supper at the hotel might be ready soon.

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