‘We do know how it is. That’s why we called round.’Not knowing where this was leading, I said nothing.‘You’re not the first, and you won’t...be the last. Village this size, lot of elderly folk. Not surprising, really.’‘No,’ I said, bewildered about what was supposed not to be surprising.‘Bereavement. The dear departed. All that. You’re by no means the only one.’That, at least, I could understand. Funerals hereabouts, I knew, were much more common than marriages or christenings. When Dorothy and I. She started to pace up and down the hallway. She had been doing that a lot lately.Frustrated, excited, nervous, worried, she climbed the stairs to her bedroom.The dress lay across the top of her bed. Concealed beneath the protective cover. She stood in the doorway, hands restless. The opaque wrapper hid the dress, but she already new it’s every tuck and fold. Her nervousness returned ten fold. Was it too revealing? It was virginal white but was not that chaste. Maybe she was too hasty in her. Getting even, wasn't very satisfactory in her mind even after lie after lie and the deprivation she had forced on Mandy.Getting out of town was sufficient enough.Stan Wilson was 'Marshal Dillon' and it was like he put her mother on the last stage coach right out of town. Mandy wasn't there, but she had heard her Mother never felt any regrets for the way she had treated Mandy.Mandy did have regrets though because she would have liked a mother. It was sad that she did not have a mother figure.. “You’re asking if I am about to stake you?” the Ranger asked, false surprise showing on his face. “Only with this modest stake which you have already joyfully experienced, My Lady.”The look of disgust was quite obvious on Tanya’s face as she glared at him, not willing to admit he’d given her an orgasm.“You couldn’t help it, My Lady,” he explained. “It’s the danger that excites you. The Old Race lives for death-defying adventure and excitement.”“The ‘Old Race’?” Tanya asked, perplexed. “What do.