The Sins of the Fathers Ch. 26

To the other four, it looked like he'd stumbled or slipped and fallen. To McAllister, it looked like when one of those Hollywood stunt-horses hits the hidden rope to make it fall.

Once Thompson hit the floor in a heap, MacKenzie slowly sat down on him, removing one cowboy boot then the other. Now, standing in the sawdust, she was barefoot.

The largest of the four charged at her in a dead run. She simply side-stepped, and he ended up falling on top of Thompson instead. There was a very pleasing grunt as the air was forced from Thompson's lungs. With two-hundred-and-fifty pounds of cowboy on top of him, it was hard to catch his next breath. And, without the next breath, Thompson couldn't seem to manage getting the two-hundred-and-fifty pounds of cowboy off him.

The cowboy didn't try to get up, basically because he was unconscious. That made him a quarter-ton of dead weight, which was even harder for Thompson to move.

McAllister saw that he wasn't breathing; but, he waited, because he thought he knew why. Sure enough, the man took a deep gasping breath as his larynx relaxed. Mac had slapped it with the side of her hand as he'd passed her. The resulting laryngeal spasm meant he'd get no air, till he was unconscious and it relaxed.

The next man was faster and came at her with a beer bottle in his hand. As he swung it, she pivoted so her back and his were against each other; her hand grabbed the hand, holding the beer in it. As he passed her, she gently peeled his thumb back till the beer came free and fell into her hand. She smiled, it was still cold. He screamed, "You fucking little cunt, you broke my finger!"

MacKenzie slowed as she came to a halt; she looked at the beer in her hand and then at him. "Nope, your thumb." She took a drink of his beer--a long drink--then slowly set the empty bottle down on a table.

Then she smiled, picked up the bottle again, put a couple of peanuts on the table, and smashed them with the bottle. "How's your nuts, Thompson?" She chewed on the peanuts, and tipped the bottle in the general direction of Dixie. "You were right, Dixie, nuts is nuts."

Setting the bottle down, she waited. The two remaining cowboys thought that maybe a bit of care was in order. They moved in opposite directions till one was on each side of her. McAllister noted she didn't turn to either; she just adjusted one foot slightly, and stood there with her arms resting at her sides.

McAllister sensed her breathing return to normal; then slowly, as she took a few deeper, longer breaths, he saw her relax completely. At the ready, like a spring.

These two guys were fast. They would have been faster except for the cowboy boots, with the boots slipping a little as they gained speed and momentum on the floor. McAllister watched Mac wait for them. One went low and one went high; it was like watching a couple of football defensive players.

Instead of rushing to meet them, she was actually looking somewhere else.

McAllister studied her; she was focused on a space about half-a-foot out in front of her on the floor. Then he figured it out; Mac was calculating where she intended to go.

The two behemoths came together, expecting her to be between them. What they found was each other. Instead of two huge men hitting an object that would absorb a lot of the energy--a static object--there were two men coming from opposite directions at top speed with nothing to absorb the force. The crash was spectacular, essentially a flesh and blood version of a head-on train wreck.

MacKenzie was literally inches from the collision, but remained untouched by it. Not even an arm or hand touched her. They collapsed onto the floor.

The sound wasn't dramatic like in a football game. There, the crowd roars wildly as the players butt helmets—grunt and groan—and, you can hear the wind whooshing out of their lungs amid the thudding crunch of the pile-up. But, mostly, it's the padding making noise as it absorbs all that energy. What the crowd in 'Cowgirls' heard was vastly different and sickeningly real. It was a loud stomach-turning splat, like a hundred-pound sack of potatoes dropped from the top of a silo. From the sound, everyone immediately knew that both men had broken something inside.

MacKenzie only made a one mistake; the man with the broken thumb wasn't out of the fight. He was behind her and moving fast. McAllister saw her try to adjust; but, she was too slow. The guy was on her. He grabbed her by the back of her shirt with his good hand; and, her lace-edged tank top gave way across her chest as he tore it from her.

Or she stepped out of it; even McAllister was never sure.

What he did see was the last cowboy, holding the torn yellow tank top with a shit-eating grin. "Well, looky here! I done got me a souvenir."

Most women would've covered their breasts. Not MacKenzie. She stood with her nipples hard, distracting, inviting, and naked.

"Damn, Sugar Tits, seein' them is almost worth getting my finger broken. Ya know, I was goin' to take this", he waved the tank top, "when we was finished with you, anyway."

"I know. So now that you've had your fun, give me my shirt, please?"

He held the tank top up to his nose and breathed in deeply, so she would hear him sniffing her scent. "God, I love the smell of a woman in heat. Come get it," he taunted her.

She moved towards him, her hand extended as though asking for the shirt.

He made several mistakes, but the most serious was letting MacKenzie Dawn Phillips close the distance between them. She reached for the tank top; and, he grabbed her wrist, pulling her across his chest so her back was to him. Reaching across her, with his injured hand palming her breast and pinning her to him, he traced the exposed nipple. Gently--because it hurt his 'finger'--he squeezed her breast.

As if in slow motion, once more McAllister watched her take the guy's hand as though trying to pry it from her naked breast. He breathed into her ear, whispering, "This was definitely worth getting my finger broke for. Now, I gotcha."

MacKenzie sighed. "It was your thumb, Bubba, not your finger. This is your finger!" She dislocated his middle finger on the hand pawing her breast. "Of course, with it 'broken' you won't be able to make love to your girlfriend or communicate, since it's your middle finger."

MacKenzie and McAllister both heard Dixie snort in laughter from across the room. Neither was distracted from the task at hand.

"Hmmm, maybe that's a little severe." She reset the finger and the thumb in rapid sequence.

McAllister had always wondered what the phrase, 'Screamed like a little girl' meant. Now, he understood. Blanching in pain, 'Bubba' let out an embarrassingly high-pitched shriek of agony.

Then, suddenly, it was all over. MacKenzie was holding her tank top again; and, he was whimpering like a baby as he tried to cradle his traumatized hand.

"You know, you won't be able to make a fist for a week or two, so I sure hope you're dating some lucky girl or married 'cause you and your hand ain't going to be close for a bit."

There were tears in his eyes. MacKenzie slowly took the remnants of her shirt and knotted it in front of her. Covered again, she approached. He backed up, giving ground. She backed him towards the door. McAllister moved alongside her in the shadows. He wasn't needed, but he was there just in case.

The injured cowboy finally backed up against the door. When he bumped into it, he panicked; but he knew better than to take his eyes off her.

"Leave ..." Mac rolled her eyes. "Now!"

"Yes, ma'am, sorry!" And he was gone. She turned and crossed the room to the bull.

The two men, who'd tackled each other, were trying to help one another stand up; but, they weren't succeeding. Thompson had finally managed to roll the heavy man off of him and was standing, sorta of hunched over; obviously, his balls were still pretty tender. The fat man had regained consciousness, but was too dazed to even bother getting up, yet.

Thompson caught sight of Mac bending over to pick up her boots. It was his chance; and he took it, moving remarkably fast to be in so much pain. Mac saw him heading towards her, hoping to pin her against the mechanical bull.

This time, McAllister was pretty sure about what he saw. Thompson had his head down like a football player; Mac just shook her head in disgust, dropped the boots, and waited.

As she did, Thompson collided with her; but, instead of knocking her against the steel bull, he somehow seemed to take flight over Mac, across the back of the bull, and flew out towards the dance floor. His black Stetson lay on the floor next to the bull.

MacKenzie grunted, as she added her strength to his momentum. "Try to land in the sawdust."

He didn't.

She sat down on the heavy man's chest to pull on her boots. She reached down, picking up Thompson's black Stetson. She tried it on; it fit. The beefy man raised his head as she was trying on the hat.

Patting his enormous belly, she chuckled, "Time for you to go, Fat Boy."

As she stood, he rolled over and began to crawl away; he was still too woozy to try and walk. The two on the dance floor had managed it, and now helped him to his feet. They picked up Thompson by his shoulders, dragging him to the door.

Jason finally let go of Nikki, who came flying out from behind his two friends and scooped MacKenzie up in her arms. "You were so cool. It was just like the dojo, huh?"

MacKenzie's eyes found McAllister's; she smiled. "Yeah, just like the dojo."

"You had enough exercise for one night?" McAllister extended his hand to Mac, and she took it. "How do you feel?"

MacKenzie thought, then said, "I'm really really hungry."

"Not sick at your stomach?"

"Nope, starving."

He waved Dixie over. "Can we get a cheeseburger with everything, a large fries, and a large Pepsi? We'll be in my booth."

Dixie asked, "Will you watch out for her, while I get them?"

"Yeah, I got her." When they got to the booth, MacKenzie slid in and McAllister sat down next to her, strategically placing himself between her and the dance floor. Jason walked up. "Mr. McAllister, you guys good? Can I take Nikki and the boys back to playing poker?"

"Yeah. I think we're done. And, Jason, thanks! I owe you one."

"Not a problem. I'm taking Nikki with me; she was in the middle of a poker hand when the brouhaha started."

"Was she winning?"

"Don't know—yet."

"What was the bet?"

"My $200, her $20, and her panties. The pot is $420, plus a pair of yellow panties."

McAllister put his head in his palm. "Well, I'll be damned! I've been watchin' the wrong person."

Jason laughed. "No, sir. Nikki can hold her own, too; she's just not so obvious about it."

Slipping off his shirt, he offered it to MacKenzie. She instantly cocked a questioning eyebrow.

"No offense intended," Jason assured her. "Just thought this could replace your 'damaged' tank top." She looked down; there was indeed a lot showing. Tipping his hat, the young cowboy led a smiling and willing Nikki away.

As she was untying the tank top, MacKenzie eyed McAllister. "You gonna look away like a gentleman?"

"Nope! I'm gonna watch, like a man."

She slid the ripped top off. Slowly, so he could see everything, she picked up the checkered cowboy-cut shirt and slipped it over one shoulder then the other. He watched her move. Each breast lifted, jiggled just a little, and fell back into place as she slipped the shoulders on. Her nipples got hard again as he watched.

Hell! McAllister got hard as he watched.

"You sure you're too old to hit on me?" She smiled, watching him enjoy the show.

He flashed the ring. "Married!"

She giggled; and, she was a beautiful young girl again. "So, not too old--just spoken for. What would your wife say, if she saw you looking at me like this?" The shirt was still open.

"My wife's a heck of a woman; she's got a great sense of humor and a lot of common sense. She'd simply say, 'Just 'cause you're on a diet, doesn't mean you can't look at the menu'!" The warmth in his voice left no doubt that Muse McAllister was deeply in love with the woman he'd married. "Now, would you kindly put them away, so we can talk? I'd like to be able to look you in the eyes when we speak."

She pulled the shirt closed, but didn't button or tie it.

McAllister started, "Can I ask you a couple of questions?"

Mac nodded her head.

Dixie approached the table again. She had the cheeseburger, fries, and Pepsi. Mac dived into the meal like she hadn't eaten in a week. McAllister was duly impressed, This child eats like a horse!

Then, he got serious. "I thought Aikido taught its practitioners not to harm the opponent."

"It does, but some modern masters have said that if all you do is defend, then the fight lasts way too long. And when I do it as exercise or training, I don't hurt--only deflect. But really, most of those guys out there tonight just hurt themselves. The one with the fingers? Well, I fixed them and put them back like they were. No permanent harm done."

"So, what happened tonight wasn't really 'just like the dojo'?"

Mac shook her head, smiling. "Nope, but Nikki doesn't always get everything that's going on."

"Yeah, I noticed that. Let's talk about Thompson; why'd you deal with him first?"

"Two reasons. He was the only dangerous one. The rest were slow and out of shape; Thompson's fast and fit. The other reason is because the others only wanted to 'fuck me'. They just wanted to try some 'black pussy'. Thompson wasn't interested in my pussy; he wanted to 'rape' me. He wanted to hurt me."

She watched him as she said 'fuck me'. "He was just too dangerous not to ... 'gentle a bit'. I slowed him down and left him temporarily incapacitated, so I had time to deal with the others."

Smart girl, he thought; but he also thought, but, you don't think like a girl. "So, what were your mistakes?"

She stopped eating and looked carefully at McAllister; he sounded like her sensei. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, thinking. The shirt opened with her every breath and, while her eyes were closed, he looked again, reaching down to move his hardening cock to the more comfortable side of his now painfully tight jeans.

"Because I was having so much fun teasing you, I didn't sense the feel of the emotion in the room changing. That was my first mistake. The second one was, I forgot about ... no, not 'forgot' ... I misjudged the guy with the dislocated thumb. I thought he wouldn't bother me again, and I didn't sense him behind me till the last second."

"What mistakes did they make?"

She thought. "They forgot what they wanted, then underestimated me. And they got mad."

"And, if they hadn't made those mistakes?"

"Then you and Jason would've had your hands full, protecting my 'honor'."

Nikki slid into the other side of the booth. She was all smiles, her fists full of five, ten, and twenty-dollar bills. "Look, I won!" She grinned at MacKenzie, "We're rich!"

McAllister smiled at her. She was feeling no pain, but she was still in the 'I'm sooo cute, when I'm tipsy' stage. And McAllister had to admit, she truly was. "Have you had anything to eat or drink?" he asked.

She smiled and dropped a few peanuts in the shell and reached for McAllister's beer. He grabbed it. "Hey, I'm hungry! I won." She burped loudly, complaining it tasted like peanuts and beer.

"How much is here?" He pointed to her winnings.

She giggled. "$400 or close; there was a little more, but I bought everyone who lost a beer."

"I seem to remember that a pair of panties was part of that pot? You wearin' them?"

"Nope!" She lifted her summer dress hem just long enough for McAllister to know the truth of her statement. "Jason's got those."

"Hmm ... Jason's got 'em," McAllister repeated, just shaking his head in wonder. "So, Nikki, what was the magical winning hand?"

"Ace, 2,3,4,5!" Nikki's eyes got all dreamy. "All of them were hearts." It wasn't luck; it was destiny!

"What was the other guy holding?"

She snatched a bite of MacKenzie's burger, mumbling around it, "He had all the Kings. Four Kings and a Queen. He was really surprised and disappointed. He said what I had was called? "

McAllister laughed, adding, "A Five-High Strait Flush or, in your case, it's known as a 'Steel Wheel.'"

He could almost hear Kenny Rogers singing in the background, 'You got to know when to hold them, know when to fold them, know when to walk away, know when to run'.

He waved over Dixie and pointed at Mac's burger. "We'll have another round."

Jason wandered up, took his hat off, looked at Nikki, and laid the panties on the table. "I thought you might need these."

She glanced up at him, then smiled. Dixie got back with the second burger. Nikki borrowed her pen and squinted up cutely at Jason. "Are you right or left-handed?"

"Right, why?"

Nikki took the pen and wrote her phone number on his left hand, then handed him the panties back. "Call me before the number wears off. You can return them when we go out."

She reached up and grabbed him by his white-cotton tee shirt, pulling his head down for a kiss. There was tongue. She whispered in his ear, "You really should ask me out, Jason Chism." Everyone at the table pretended not to notice her quickly squeeze Jason's package. Nice-n-big! My kisses must be getting better.

When he quit blushing, he looked at McAllister, he managed to say, "Mr. McAllister, sir, I'd be happy to make sure they get home okay?"

"I know you would, son; but, let me--this time." McAllister asked, holding out his hand.

Jason shook it. "Yes, sir."

"And, Jason, you can call me 'Muse'."

"You're Muse McAllister, from out in east Oregon--near Sisters?" Jason looked surprised. Everyone at the table noticed it.

"Yep."

"The Muse McAllister?"

"Yep."

"It's sure a pleasure to meet you, Sir. I've read a lot about you; seen a lot of videos of you riding."

"That was a while ago."

Jack touched his hat brim, as he turned and walked away. Nikki closed her eyes, licking her lips and tasting the kiss. "I sure like him."

Now, both girls were chowing down like horses. When they'd finished, the table looked like the proverbial Biblical plague of locusts had visited it. Nothing edible was left. The two large drinks of Pepsi were empty and their straws were making that 'bottom of the cup' gurgling death knell.

Muse announced, "Well, it's time to take you home. Young ladies, give me your keys."

Without a word, Mac handed them over to him.

McAllister looked at her for a long moment, trying to decide what to do. Finally he sighed, simply saying, "MacKenzie, you should probably call the police and, at least, report this. Maybe, you should think hard about pressing charges against them."

Mac gazed up at his rugged face, then smiled. It was a gentle smile--way older than her face. "Mr. McAllister, I'm a lawyer's daughter. I know how the law works; it's slow, methodical, thoughtful, and filled with delays."

The corners of Muse's eyes crinkled at her thoughtful response. Where's this line of reasoning going?

"Aikido was first taught to people, who weren't not allowed to carry weapons. It was used to defend them against those, who were allowed to carry weapons. As long as I'm conscious, I'm never unarmed; I am never defenseless."

"If I were a boy, this would've only been a fistfight. If Thompson intended me wrong, I've already righted his notion of how defenseless a young woman is. I ain't got a scratch on me. They can't say the same. In this particular instance, I don't need the law to render justice. I already rendered it."

"You sure about this?" he asked. 'Cause I'm not at all sure I agree!

"I was taught that you use just enough force to protect yourself. I was taught to always leave your opponent a way out. Allow a retreat, or you have a fight to the death on your hands. My sensei would say that continuing to pursue Thompson, through the Law, is not the Way of Aikido."