Her Selfish Desires

By Loretta B. Staley

Fred was a handsome black man whose family had settled on a ranch in south western Wyoming--Mormon country.
Georgia was young, white, beautiful, and headstrong.
They fell in love--and dared to cross "the forbidden line."
from there began Georgias tempestuous future, sweeping in and out of peoples lives--destroying many.
A story of unending love and a a desperate search for happiness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Loretta B. Staley
• Release date: Oct 10, 2010

Loretta B. Staley

Loretta Barnes Staley was born and raised in Evanston, Wyoming, a small town in Southwestern Wyoming. She was the sixth child in a family of nine children; all talented in the arts, especially music.Loretta was writing poems, songs and short stories by the age of twelve.Throughout a busy life of “ranching”, then, later on, managing a motel that she and her husband purchased, raising three children, and helping with grandchildren, she continued (when she could find time) to “dabble” at writing.Many of her stories of adventure and mystery were inspired by her own experiences. Others were inspired by the interesting and strange lives of various people she knew as they traveled through her life.Now most of her time is spent writing and she has been encouraged by her friends and family to seek publication of her work -- some of it recent and some from long ago.Hoping that a few will read, and perhaps enjoy, some of her stories, she has done just that.This is just one of the many novels written by this author.All of her writings are considered “acceptable” for young adult and teen reading.A note from the editorLoretta passed away in 2006. Since then her family has continued to publish and promote the stories she loved so much to tell.Thanks for reading Moms books. We hope you enjoy them all!contact info: [e-mail]

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HER SELFISH DESIRES

By

Loretta B. Staley

Copyright Jan 1980 by Loretta B. Staley

Published by Lynn Staley at Smashwords

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

DEDICATED

to those who lived

in those good old days

and those who might

be interested in how it was

"back then

PLEASANT READING

Loretta

Dear Readers

How can one pass judgment

upon Georgia?

I can't

Maybe after you've

read her story

you can.

or, perhaps, we should

just leave it up to God

I'm sure he understood her,

as none of us ever could!

Note: All characters are fictional. Any resemblance to anyone, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

HER SELFISH DESIRES

By

Loretta B. Staley

CHAPTER I

I knew trouble was brewing, for sure, when the old screen-door screeched open then closed with a loud bang and my sixteen-year-old sister dashed into the living room.

Mom, Mom! she cried, gasping for breath. Georgie is walking home with a Negro boy and -- and he’s got his arm around her!

Are you sure, Veda? Mother asked, her eyebrows arching doubtfully.

Just look out the window and see! Veda pointed to the front window.

Mother pulled back the heavy lace curtains. Oh, he doesn’t look like a Negro. Why do you say such things?

But, Mom, he is! He really is! my sister insisted.

Oh dear. Oh dear. I heard Mother groan in despair.

Georgia was her problem child, the youngest of us three girls and the beauty of the family, yet she seemed older than both Veda and me. She always had a dozen boys clustered around her although she was only fifteen.

Mother had shaken her head ruefully many times and, perhaps just as often, said a small prayer under her breath for her willful-minded daughter, but this time Georgia had gone too far and I was sure she would get the dickens.

I was the oldest, yet Georgia was allowed much more freedom than I. It was not that our parents liked her the most, but, rather than fight Georgia’s terrible temper and stubbornness, or put up with the tantrums and periods of pretended starvation, they usually succumbed to her wishes. But this was different. Mother did have a firmness about her, though, when it came down to actually laying down the law.

Veda ran to the sofa and sat down, hardly able to contain herself while she pretended to read an old magazine. She couldn’t wait to hear her spoiled sister get the scolding of her life for once, but Georgia stalled out by the gate, laughing and talking and, yes, flirting with the young man.

I sat curled up in the old rocker waiting for the scolding I knew was due the minute Georgia stepped through the door. As the rocker creaked and groaned with my nervous rocking, I recalled how well this sister of mine could handle our parents and my mind flashed back to the time when she had demanded a horse.

Georgia and I had been on a short hike and we stopped along the way to watch a woman galloping a fiery horse around a field, just outside the edge of town.

As we hung onto the fence, watching in fascination, two men, who had also been watching from just a short distance away, began talking.

"Boy, that Minerva sure kin handle a horse! One man exclaimed.

Minerva can handle anything, the 0ther murmured in a slow, easy drawl.

If it’s anything I add-mire, the first speaker sighed, its a woman what kin handle a horse!

As the two men walked away Georgia tossed her curls and turned to me.

I don’t see anything so wonderful about riding a horse! I’ve rode Mr. Jones’s horse. It was easy.

But you’ve only rode old Sal and she is really gentle. Some horses are mean, I told her.

I wouldn’t care! Georgia boasted; her eyes shining with excitement. I would want a mean one!

Not me! I shuddered.

As we walked the short distance to our home she prattled excitedly about how she would soon be riding a horse.

As soon as we entered the house Georgia started telling Father all about the wonderful horse she had seen and how we had watched Minerva as she worked with it and maneuvered it around the field.

Father was enjoying listening to Georgia’s excited chatter and watching her every gesture and an amused smile. hovered upon his face ... that is until she dropped the bomb!

Our father’s pleased expression suddenly disappeared when his daughter asked for a horse of her own!

I saw the disbelief on Dad’s face and heard Mother gasp in surprise.

Leave it up to Georgia to keep our whole household in an uproar with her unpredictable wishes.

You don’t really want a horse, do you? our father asked, still having a hard time accepting what he had heard.

Yes I do. I really do. Georgia gazed Convincingly at Father and turned on her most Pleading look.

Father sat with one leg lightly crossed over the other, swinging his foot gently up and down as he thought. How could he explain to his Spoiled daughter that it was impossible, at this time, to give her what she wanted?

Times had been hard and, for the past few years, he’d had to struggle to provide his small family with the meager necessities of life.

The country was in the midst of a deep depression and everyone was having a hard time.

Georgie Father took a deep breath, we can’t get you a horse. I’m sorry, but that’s how it is.

I want one, she answered in a stubborn, set voice

We don’t even have a place for one, put in Mother’s anxious voice.

Minerva Smithe keeps hers at the Hopkins place, Georgia replied, gazing defiantly at our mother.

But, Dear, she is a grown woman and-she has lots of money.

We’re not poor! Georgia came back at her.

And we are not rich! Mother told her in a firm voice.

I know you could get me one if you really wanted to. She started to pout.

I don’t want to hear anymore about this! Mother snapped.

I know! You just don’t like me! my pampered sister suddenly shouted, flaring into one of her pretended rages. If I don’t get a horse I’ll hate you all forever!

She slammed out the door, marched to the back yard, crawled into a big wooden box that we called our playhouse and settled down to sulk ... and to wait for her words to take effect.

Oh, yes, she knew how to get her way. This little charade upset our parents each and every time, but they tried to hide that fact from Veda and me. I could understand why they let it bother them so much, for we all knew how Georgia could carry on for weeks with hunger-strikes, tantrums and a little of everything else mixed in; just to make us all miserable, but we also knew how joyful and full of fun she could be when everything went her way.

Mother finished getting our dinner ready, humming thoughtfully as she worked, only stopping her little tune long enough to tell us to set the table or to make some other remark about the meal. We all understood that the subject was to be completely dropped from our conversations and that no one was to mention Georgia nor her actions. We’d been through all of this before.

When it was time to eat, Veda was sent out to tell Georgia, but she came back and announced that she had only been met by a stony silence so we sat up to the table pretending it didn’t matter at all.

Just as we were finishing our meal, Georgia marched in, gave us all a mad look, and Stomped to her room where she stayed the rest of the evening.

That night I heard my parents discussing their money situation and it didn’t Sound very good. Our father was a dentist and, ordinarily, he would be making a good living, but with hard times all around us, no one was making much of a living. Even the railroad that ran through our town, and on which a lot of people counted for employment, had cut down on its runs and laid a lot of workers off; Simply because there was not enough business to keep it going.

As my parents talked I heard my mother saying plaintively, Even if we had the money, I don’t think we should be getting that girl a horse. There was a pause of silence then my mother added, I really don’t understand why you don’t make more money. You have patients in and out of your office every day.

That’s right, Father answered, but I seldom get paid.

Then start making them pay before you work on them.

My dear woman, Father told her indignantly I could never send someone home in pain or with a bad tooth just because they have no money!"

But what are we supposed to live on? Mother Complained.

Don’t worry, Dad assured her. They will pay us when they can and there are a few who manage to pay now and then. At least we are getting by.

Well, we can’t afford a horse!

Mother said firmly.

We’ll see, we’ll see, Dad paused. I know where I might get one as part payment on a bill owed me.

Georgia does not need a horse! Mother told him and marched from the room. But Dad was the one who spoiled my sister the most and he was already thinking ahead about arranging for a horse and a place to keep it.

Mother was hoping her spoiled daughter would give up this wild idea of having a horse, but Georgia would not let up on begging for one and kept us all miserable with her fretting and pouting.

Within a few weeks, Dad proudly led a horse up to the front gate.

Once again my young sister had gotten her way!

The horse was too tall and very ugly ... I thought. It was bluish-gray with shaggy hair, a long Roman—nose, and eyes that kept rolling back until they were nearly all white.

I was afraid of the ugly beast, but Georgia was delighted ... until Father lifted her to the high, skinny back and the horse refused to budge. The look of happy anticipation faded from her face as she kicked at the horse’s ribs and it still would not move. She slapped its neck and gouged her heels into its sides and still it just stood.

This was not at all like riding Mr. Jones’s gentle old mare that trudged along at a little nudge from a rider’s foot.

I could see the disappointment on my sister’s face and I was elated, for a while, for I felt that she would become disgusted and forget about horses and we could go do a lot of fun things together again. However, my hopes vanished when I heard my stubborn sister exclaim, I’ll fix him! I know how to make him go! Her face brightened. Father, get me a switch!

Dad ripped a long, green switch from the willow tree nearby and stepped forward to hand it to her. As he raised the whip, the horse snorted and backed a few steps. Father paused a moment and studied the horse.

Sneak it to me from over here, Georgia ordered.

Once more Dad reached out and the creature reared upward, its front hoofs pawing at the air. Georgia’s big dark eyes widened in surprise, her full skirt sliding up and showing her brown cotton stockings -- way above her knees -- but she managed to grab the switch from Dad’s outstretched hand.

I got it! I got it! Georgia shouted, her eyes shining in triumph. Now watch me go!

The willow cracked against the animals hide and off they went with one short jump and a wild dash down the dusty road, around a wide bend and out of sight.

Veda thought it was great to see her sister in such a crazy predicament and she jumped up and down, squealing with delight (and secretly hoping to see a great spill) while Father ran wildly down the road behind them.

Oh dear! Mother moaned. What will ever come of her? I knew she shouldn’t have a horse!

Oh she’ll be back okay, I said, trying to calm our mother, in spite of my own fears for my reckless sister.

Soon Dad came back into sight, hurrying back toward US. "They plum disappeared he called when he was within hearing distance.

Oh, dear, Mother began worrying again, but her words were interrupted by the heavy thudding of horse’s hooves and there, coming around the bend, was horse, rider and clouds of dust. They charged madly toward us -- straight along the roadway -- straight toward our puffing father who was right in their path! He dove desperately into a haw-bush at the roadside at the same instant that Georgia yelled Whoa at the top of her voice.

There was a sliding of hooves, a sudden end to the pounding beats, and a large cloud of thick, red dust swirled around us as Georgia went sailing through the air with her skirt billowing out like a big, red-plaid, umbrella. Then she landed with a thud; smack on her rear-end, in front of the wild-eyed horse.

The dust settled. The horse stood -- rolling back its eyes, blowing and snorting, while its tormentor sat covered with dirt; bruised and battered, angry and frustrated.

Oh, my poor dear! Mother cried, running to her.

That dumb old thing! Georgia spat, getting stiffly to her feet. It’s gonna take me a long time to teach something to that dumb old thing!

Oh, no! Mother gasped. You’re not going to try again?

Yes ... tomorrow, after I find a big, strong switch, and I want Dad to get me a saddle so I won’t slide around so much. I’ll need some riding pants too.

All of this was said as if she had every right to order all those things and was sure she would get them.

I can’t understand why you would want to ride that silly horse, Veda remarked with a tone of disgust. You looked really crazy sailing through the air! She started to giggle. Really, it was sooo funny!

I thought it was fun! Georgia shot back. And you can’t ride him!

Who cares? Veda replied as she walked away.

I don’t know what is going to become of you, Mother sighed as she brushed the dust off Georgia’s skirt. You don’t act like a decent young lady ...riding wild animals ... and ... oh, I don’t know what!"

You’re just old-fashioned, Mother. You worry too much, the dust-laden girl told her, then turned to me, "Want to take a ride, Laura?’

Uh, no, I answered, backing away. I’ve other things to do. I hurried away with one or two hasty backward glances at the crazy animal.

Georgia rode her horse all summer; galloping around the countryside with her hair flying in the wind. Dad said it was great to have his high spirited daughter busy and out of his hair for a while and well worth the deal he had made.

I didn’t give it much thought until, early one morning, Georgia prodded me from my bed. C’mon, she urged with a big grin. You’re gonna ride old Blue-beard with me today.

old Blue-beard? Do you mean that crazy horse?

Sure! That’s what I named him. I’m getting tired of riding all alone. I need company.

Well, I’ll go out there with you, but I won’t ride that old horse.

Hurry, I’m anxious to get over there, my sister harped as we headed for the corral where she kept the animal, but I was far from anxious to get there and I trudged slowly along the weather-beaten path.

Remember, I warned her, I’m not going to ride. I’ll just watch.

Oh, Silly. It’s just like riding a merry-go-round and, even if you fall off it doesn’t hurt.

As we stood at the corral gate waiting for the farmer’s son to catch the horse and bring him to us, Georgia turned to me with a gleam in her eye. How about you riding with me? You can hang on in back of me and you won’t be afraid at all!

I thought so! This sly sister of mine had planned all along to get me into this situation.

When the boy led the horse up to us it seemed calm and relaxed; not at all like the wild-eyed animal it had been the first day I saw it.

He looks tame enough, I thought aloud.

Sure! He’s tame, my sister said with assurance. He’s just dumb is all.

Think ya can make out from here? asked the young man as he handed Georgia the reins.

Of course. You can go leave us alone now, she answered with a smug, know—it-all attitude.

You oughta be safe with a plug like that, the boy laughed. Ceptin’ he might fail dead and pin ya under him! He strutted away; knowing he had taken the haughty girl down a notch.

You wait, smarty, Georgia warned. You’ll find out someday that you’re not so smart! Then she turned to me. Now, Laura, I’ll lift you onto his back first then I’ll get on.

No! I’m not going to ride him, I said with conviction. I told you that in the beginning.

But he doesn’t do anything until he sees a whip or gets hit with one. He’s gentle as a kitten, she told me as she urged the animal a little closer. He took a few careful steps toward me; not seeming threatening at all.

Well, maybe I’ll try just sitting on his back, I finally decided.

If Dad would get me a saddle it would be better. You could put your foot in the stirrup and get up easy, but you can just put your foot on my hands and I’ll heft you up.

I stepped gingerly up to the giant menace where Georgia was bent over with her two hands clasped together like a cradle, and, as I placed one foot there, she suddenly hoisted me upward.

That took me by surprise, but I threw one leg frantically over the creature’s back and began searching for a place to hold onto. In desperation I buried my hands into the shaggy mane and clung for dear life; then I settled down and took a deep breath. Nothing happened ... all was calm ... all was well.

See, I told you! Georgia laughed. Now how will I get on with you there? She pondered a moment ... I know! I’ll get him to stand down in that ditch then I can stand on the bank and get on easy.

She led the horse forward as I clung precariously to its back. There was nothing to it! It was like riding a child’s rocking horse! Then, as the horse started down into the ditch, I nearly slid right up onto its neck, but, to my surprise, I kept astride. A wave of confidence washed over me as I easily scooted back into a more comfortable position.

Georgia led the horse along the dry ditch until we came to a suitable place; where the bank was high enough that she could easily mount the horse.

Here, she ordered, handing me the reins, tie these together and just let them hang on his neck. He won’t move, she assured me.

I began feeling quite proud of myself as I sat astride the animal and thought, as I tied the leather straps together, that I wouldn’t mind having a horse too.

Now slide back, Georgia told me, breaking into my thoughts of bravery, I’m going to get on front.

But--but there’s no hand-hold if I slide back, I argued, beginning to feel nervous again.

You won’t need any, she told me with disgust. He’ll only stand there until I get on and nudge him.

Slowly, carefully, I wriggled back until enough space was made ahead of me for Georgia to sit. Then she tried to swing her leg in front of me and up over the horse’s back, but it seemed I was always in the way.

Laura, she sighed, you’ll have to sit back on his rump ‘til I get on then you can slide back up again.

Why don’t you just jump on in back of me? I suggested brightly.

Because I don’t want to, she answered indignantly. It’s my horse and I want to be in front. Besides, you might not know how to handle him when we get going.

Then I’ll get off, I offered.

Don’t be stubborn, Laura. Just slide back, pleeeease.

Okay, I groaned, giving in to her as I usually did. I shifted my body backward until I straddled the widest part of that horse’s back. I had hardly settled before my sister leaped to her place astride the animal. Suddenly, without warning, I found myself sailing into thin air, then, just as suddenly, I landed with a jolt right back upon the horse’s rump!

Jump off! Jump off! I heard Georgia’s voice, but how can you jump when you are already once more flying into space? My legs and arms were going in crazy directions when I landed side-ways, once more, upon the fleshy part of the wild, bucking thing, then I found myself plowing into the dirt and manure of Hopkin’s field.

After spitting, coughing, and un-twisting my body, I looked up to see Georgia sitting calmly and quietly on the back of the unconcerned horse. She opened her mouth to speak, but I spoke first

Nope! No more for me. I’m heading home! Okay, she agreed, to my surprise. Then she added thoughtfully, I guess he won’t ride double.

Georgia was often seen galloping through the fields or up our country road, with her fiery, red hair blowing in the cool breeze, and her full Skirt billowing around her ... until She finally persuaded Father to buy her some riding pants. She rode her horse for more than half the summer then her interest waned and we were together more often each day. Veda was usually occupied with her own little group of friends and was seldom included in any of our little escapades. Anyway, she and Georgia were never very close and there was always a bit of friction between them. Actually, Veda and I were both jealous of the way our sister was able to manipulate our parents, but I had learned to live with it where Veda had not.

One afternoon, as Georgia and I were walking to town, I asked her why she hadn’t been riding her horse lately.

Well, she sighed, it’s getting boring. There’s only certain places you can go on him and it’s not exciting anymore ... unless... she looked at me hopefully, unless you want to try riding double again!

No! I said firmly. No, thank you!

Well, then, I guess I’ll let Dad sell him. Once you get what you want it isn’t fun anymore, is it?

I wouldn’t know, I answered. I haven’t really gotten just what I’ve wanted for a long time.

Well, you’re different from me, she bragged You always give up to easy.

What do you want right now?

Excitement!

What kind of excitement?

Oh, I don’t know, she pondered. It sure isn’t riding that old horse anymore .... Suddenly she brightened. Would you like to go prowl around that big, empty house up on the hill?

We’d get in trouble if we did that, I warned her.

Oh, I’ve already been in there. Her eyes sparkled. I sneaked in the basement window. It had big, sunny rooms and a real fancy stairway ... and upstairs is a bathroom with a great, big tub! Someday I’ll have a house like that!

The large house had been considered the most elegant home in town and its owners the richest, but the rumor was that they had lost all their money in the crash and had been forced to move out, leaving the place to be sold by the bank.

Our own home was quite large and comfortable with a big iron cook-stove in the pleasant kitchen and a large living-room and dining room. A sunny porch where Mother kept her large collection of plants watered and well cared for led into the back door. That was also where we had to remove our boots and heavy clothing in the winter thus, to keep the plants from freezing and our clothing warm, Mother kept a small fire going in a tiny pot-bellied heating stove that had been installed in a corner of the porch.

Father’s old friend, Shack -- the golden retriever he’d had for many years -- spent many a winter night lying beside the little iron stove.

Upstairs was four bed-rooms, each with a small closet. Also there was a big, roomy walk-in closet ... but there was no bathroom! A fact that Georgia often griped about (and I have to admit I agreed with her).

We had nice, cold, running water and sometimes hot water which was stored in a big tank that stood beside the kitchen stove. The water was heated by passing through some kind of radiator inside the stove and when we had a good fire in the stove we had hot water, but