Pursuit. Maude.: Pursuit, #2

By Vern Harrison

80,000 words. In lieu of killing, the boy had shot and destroyed his preacher father's knees, elbows, and other joints. The intent was to prevent his father from following him and bringing him back.
His father had sold his son and his father was known throughout his preaching area that whenever he made a deal, he kept it. No matter what.
Maude is thoroughly pissed when she finds out the boy she purchased has escaped and his father is in no physical condition to bring him back.
But Maude did learn something that came to her good stead for the rest of her life — shooting out the joints of people she wants to torture for her erotic satisfaction was the most intolerable pain she could render. The person could not escape and was forced to stand whatever torment Maude delivered. Even when the pain became more than they could stand, her victims still bore it. They had no choice.
While Maim maimed in self-defense and never killed, Maude maimed with intent to torture and watch the victims slowly die.
Maim went out West. Maude followed.
Maude's proclivity to torture and slowly kill for personal satisfaction distracted her from the chase, at times. Her biggest desire, however, was to catch the person she considered to be her property, Maim, torture him for a slow and extended period, and watch him die.
Losing his trail now and again, and despairing that she would ever catch up with Maim, she eventually had an idea. Knowing that Maim could not kill and was reduced to maiming aggressors, Maude would listen for rumors of maimings. There were few who maimed like Maim did and she should be able to find him that way.
To have an excuse for traveling around, and also to get paid for what she liked to do anyway, she became an assassin intent on becoming known for her anonymity and for never missing a shot.
Finally, she got a good lead.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Will Bontrager Software LLC
• Release date: Mar 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224786541

Book preview

Excerpts

From the Dandy Smiles chapter:

A dandy was staying at the boarding house.

You know the type. The fellow dressed the best he could afford. He was found in the general store every week after getting paid for whatever he did for a living. His attention was attracted to the dry goods wall, mostly. He would buy enough of a gaudy material for a bandana or a shirt and hire the local seamstress to make it for him.

The dandy knew for a fact that he was irresistible to women, especially when wearing new clothes. His strut advertised his certainty.

Rarely was he seen with female company, however. It was because they were all bashful, he told himself. They were too shy to approach him.

From the Sharpshooter chapter:

Scrawny had a pretty good hand, Maude knew. She had dealt the game.

In an attempt to disorient his opponent, or generate anger, Scrawny faulted Maude, Hey, boy, you sound like a girl!

This elicited twitters from those who heard the comment.

Maude looked at him and said, I am a girl.

She removed her hat and shook her head. Curly tresses fell about her head.

This disoriented the scrawny guy more than he had assumed his initial comment would disorient Maude. He coughed. He did not want to quit this game. He had a sure-win hand.

Maude saved him from having to call off the game with, Well, are we playing poker or using our mouth to see how much dust we can collect before we cough!

From the Trap Made Deadly chapter:

On her ride out of the Tussy, the next morning, Maude mentally reviewed the trap, over and over again.

When the shotgun was triggered, a few of the pellets might destroy one of her wrists, or a hand, which would be quite okay. The rest of the pellets would find their way into her belly. Those pellets would rip intestines. Ripped up guts would leak their poison and provide one or more hours of intense pain before her system gave up all pretense of life.

Maude felt her tingle spot tingle. A suffering Deidre was the most arousing image she could imagine at the moment.

It will work, declared Maude to herself. More thinking about it will not make it work better.

From the Two Kills, One Bullet chapter:

What the hell is all the commotion! demanded the bartender.

Somebody killed two men with one shot, Maude calmly responded.

It was the first time she had said anything in this tavern. The bartender noticed the high pitch, but his interest in the shooting blanked all other considerations.

How the hell could that be done!

In the way it was done.

Maude deliberately raised the bartender’s blood pressure. It was fun to watch him in his impatience to instantly know all about it. Also, it should pull more of his attention away from her high-pitched voice.

Talk, damn you!

A free drink, okay?

OK, a free drink you little man who sounds like a girl.

The bullet went through the neck of the taller one and into the head of the shorter one.

No! That can’t be! Nobody could shoot like that, and they wouldn’t have lined themselves up on purpose.

Overview

In lieu of killing, the boy had shot and destroyed his preacher father's knees, elbows, and other joints. The intent was to prevent his father from following him and bringing him back.

His father had sold his son and his father was known throughout his preaching area that whenever he made a deal, he kept it. No matter what.

Maude is thoroughly pissed when she finds out the boy she purchased has escaped and his father is in no physical condition to bring him back.

But Maude did learn something that came to her good stead for the rest of her life — shooting out the joints of people she wants to torture for her erotic satisfaction was the most intolerable pain she could render. The person could not escape and was forced to stand whatever torment Maude delivered. Even when the pain became more than they could stand, her victims still bore it. They had no choice.

While Maim maimed in self-defense and never killed (see trilogy book #1), Maude maimed with intent to torture and watch the victims slowly die.

Maim went out West. Maude followed.

Maude's proclivity to torture and slowly kill for personal satisfaction distracted her from the chase, at times. Her biggest desire, however, was to catch the person she considered to be her property, Maim, torture him for a slow and extended period, and watch him die.

Losing his trail now and again, and despairing that she would ever catch up with Maim, she eventually had an idea. Knowing that Maim could not kill and was reduced to maiming aggressors, Maude would listen for rumors of maimings. There were few who maimed like Maim did and she should be able to find him that way.

To have an excuse for traveling around, and also to get paid for what she liked to do anyway, she became an assassin intent on becoming known for her anonymity and for never missing a shot.

Finally, she got a good lead.

(The third book of the trilogy talks about Maim and Maude hunting each other to the death.)

Suffering Preacher

When Maude showed up, the preacher had been suffering for over a day.

Well, look at you, she said. Somebody got their revenge.

The man’s ankles were shot up. As were his knees, his elbows, and his wrists. The shattered joints were swollen and sore. Any little movement shot pain into his brain.

Suddenly, Maude experienced a physical satisfaction. Moisture threatened to leak down the inside of her legs.

She was surprised. Somewhat. She did know she experienced thrills when she got the better of someone, especially when delivering pain was involved.

But never had she come upon someone who was suffering from intentionally inflicted and debilitating joint destruction.

Maude stood stock still for a moment. The realization was important to her. She had found another way to temporarily fulfill her unmentionable desires.

The preacher groaned. Maude became animated again.

You know why I am here. Where is Clarence?

The preacher groaned again. He made facial expressions to indicate thirst.

Maude fed him some water so he could talk.

Where is Clarence! she demanded.

He mumbled something incoherent.

Then, a sound came out of his mouth with, I hurt.

Of course you hurt, you idiot. Tell me something I do not already know. Where is Clarence!

He left.

The admission was a shock. Clarence was her property!

Old man, I gave you a month of unrestricted free use of my body in exchange for title to your son when he reached thirteen years. Today, he turned thirteen. And now you tell me he left!

Maude was so incensed she went to her horse and got her gun.

Bullets were precious. So she put the gun back. She returned to the suffering man and brought out her knife.

Her knife was always ready. It was always sharp, polished, and handy to grab.

Tell me how to get my property, she said, inspecting her knife.

The man groaned. Then said, Don’t know.

That was not the right answer.

Maude cut open his trousers.

Now, tell me how to get my property!

The man pressed his eyes shut, opened them again, and uttered, I can’t.

Maude took one of his balls, squeezed it so hard that, even though he was suffering from other horrendously painful wounds, the man yelled out with abandon. Keeping some pressure on the ball, she proceeded to slice the skin of the sack until the ball popped out. Her knife swiftly detached the ball from the man.

Now, father of Clarence. Tell me how to get my property.

The man shook his head.

Can’t

Tell me or you lose your other ball. Never again will you squirt semen, not even into the mouth of whatever woman ends up caring for you. Tell me how to get my property!

The man managed a moment of more strength.

Dammit, Maude, how the hell would I know. He stole the horse from me. He loaded up the horse with gear he stole from me. Then he shot me up and left. How the hell could I even help you!

His last ball was snuggled up to his dick. Maude grabbed it.

She was totally furious.

This time, Maude extended her time of squeezing. She used a stick and whacked the ball. She stuck her knife into the ball so deep that the point came out the other side. Then a stick was pushed through the knife hole. The man screamed to shake the trees.

The woman turned and twisted the stick impaled within his ball and watched the joint-destroyed man twist and scream. When she figured she got the loudest screams from the preacher that it was possible to get, Maude finished the castration.

Maude experienced another satisfaction. She turned her face away from the preacher man so he would not see the pleasure she felt at that moment.

The man finally stopped screaming. He lay on the forest floor, panting.

Now, old man. It is time to come clean and tell me how I can get my property. If you do not, I will cut off your dick. And you will bleed to death.

Yes. Please!

His eyes lit with anticipation and he even smiled a bit.

Maude realized she had taken the wrong tack. This man wanted to end his suffering and was expecting her to do it for him. No way was she going to help out this man who had reneged on his agreement.

"Let us do this the opposite way. You tell me how to get my property and I will release you from your suffering.

Tell me!

He went. I do not know where.

Well, preacher, I will look for Clarence. I will find him, even if I have to search every slope of this entire Appalachian mountain range.

"You will survive, old man. No doubt. You are tough.

If I do not find Clarence, I will be mighty disappointed. And I will come back to slice your dick in half for you, lengthwise from the tip all the way to the base. I will slice slow. You will end up with two half-dicks.

The man groaned.

One more chance. How do I get my property?

The man groaned and shook his head.

Maude stood up. She kicked the man on one of his injured and swollen knees. The scream echoed through the hills and the valley.

As he screamed, Maude experienced another satisfaction.

She almost smiled. But not quite. The sheer disappointment of having her property slip away from her was a tall cliff to scale.

But she could experience some physical satisfactions.

She kicked and pushed the man’s joints. The preacher man entertained the trees and insects and squirrels for half an hour with his intermittent screams.

Every few minutes, Maude lay back on the forest floor, spread her legs, and pushed a hand into her crotch. A moment after her shudder, she got up and tortured the preacher again.

Her loss of the boy remained as disappointing as it was when she first learned of it. But the satisfactions the man provided assuaged her inclination to visit revenge on him.

Maude Kills

A few weeks later, Maude was traveling an Appalachian trail toward where Clarence had been reported as being seen. This tip may be as worthless as all the others, but it had to be investigated.

She was certain that sooner or later she would catch her property.

That Clarence boy has wile, declared Maude. But not enough.

She heard a scream. Then, a few moments later, another. The screams appeared to come from the direction where she heard pistol shots five or so minutes earlier.

As a precaution, she would approach silently. Maude put muffles on the hooves of her horse.

On the inside of a bend, along a wider part of the trail, were a couple tents. Three people, two women and a man, were torturing another man. It appeared that the man’s limbs were unusable.

Probably shot up, mused Maude.

It was a method of inflicting excruciating pain Maude had seen for the first time when she found Clarence’s father with joints shot up. The preacher was suffering more than she had ever seen anyone suffer and stay alive. Seeing its effect, the technique had quickly been put on the top shelf of her own techniques for administering pain. It would let her inflict intolerable pain that the victim nevertheless was forced to tolerate.

Maude was so very much looking forward to when she would use the same idea on Clarence.

Maude smiled. It would be a pleasure to apply the technique on the boy who invented it.

The three people at the camp were also using knives to slice small pieces off the victim. Maude heard the victim scream like the world was ending, which it may have felt like to him, as a nipple was slowly crushed between two rocks.

Finally, one of the people noticed her. That person must have said something to the other torturers because they all looked up. Their looks communicated an unwillingness to be interrupted and, also, wondering who she was. The victim relished the pause in his torture.

She asked if they had seen a thirteen-year old boy named Clarence.

Their response was a negative shake of heads.

I guess I will move along. Looks like I happened upon a scene where I am not welcome.

As Maude left the bend behind, she realized something. It was not natural that two places on this mountain would suddenly start using the same technique for inflicting severe pain. It would only happen if someone conveyed the technique.

The boy’s escape actually was a good thing, concluded Maude. Without that, I would not now realize how pleasing it surely will be to shoot joints apart and watch the suffering.

When she came to the and watch the suffering part, she reached down between her legs and experienced a pleasure.

Clarence did stop at that camp! realized Maude. They do know of him!

Maude led her horse into the woods and hitched it to the trunk of a small tree. Then she snuck back toward the camp.

In the trees at the edge of camp, she watched.

The people eventually tired of torturing the man, or he was so close to death that it wasn’t fun anymore.

Two horses were brought up to the main tent. The man and the youngest of the women rode out.

That left only the older woman.

Maude yelled at the tent. She demanded the location of the Clarence boy.

After a short time, the woman came to the door, which had its flap tied open.

The woman declared she had not recently seen a thirteen-year old boy named Clarence. Maude shot her in the head. The woman collapsed into a heap right there in the doorway.

As the woman fell, she saw movement on her right. Immediately, she shot in that direction. The movement was hit. It turned out to be a man.

The man’s return fire was instant. Maude was hit, too. The man had succeeded in putting a bullet into Maude’s leg pretty close to her hip.

The man was hit badly. He died within a minute.

Looking around frantically, Maude determined there were no immediate enemies. She was able to bring her attention to her wound.

While cleaning out the wound and wrapping it with cloth to stop the bleeding, Maude thought about what had happened.

The man that rode out with the younger woman was not the man who shot at me. It was Clarence! He fooled me. Oh, that boy is going to suffer!

While not permanently debilitating, Maude’s wound took eight weeks to heal. (If you haven’t read it yet, the story is told in volume 1 of this Pursuit. trilogy.)

By the time Maude was ready to travel again, she had lost the trail. She hunted that entire mountain. She found people in cabins and natural shelters in places she had never known existed.

Through it all, she found no Clarence.

Finally, she concluded the boy either was on a neighboring mountain or he had left the area. Leaving the area meant going West. The boy would not be comfortable further East, with its civilization and laws.

Maude decided to go West. It was soon after leaving the mountain that Maude brushed against a hint of a clue. Everywhere she described Clarence, she also described his unique stride, a stride that became habitual when his hurt calf was healing. Someone vaguely remembered someone with such a stride. A man, really, the informant insisted. The person’s name was Maim, not Clarence.

The informant told Maude that the man traveled with two horses, a colt, a woman, and a dog.

Following Maim’s tracks, or trying to, was disheartening. Frequently, Maude had a good trail. She followed it for a week or several. Then it petered out. Or suddenly disappeared.

At one point during his travels, Clarence had changed his name. Maim was a good name. It was a name that sounded like it belonged to an adult male.

When she accepted that his name indeed was Maim and no longer Clarence, Maude thought of Maim as being a man, not a boy.

The man was good at hiding his tracks or misdirecting her. Once, she followed a trail, faint though it was, for a month and a half. It suddenly went poof. No evidence. Nobody remembered the man. Later, she realized Maim had turned about and returned along a trail parallel to the first.

It was eerily similar to the trick Maude often played on her brothers when she had to lose them.

Maude was better than any man she knew when it came to trailing others and losing her own trail at the same time. She had proved it with her brothers, time and again. All five of her brothers were older than her, but she was better. They admitted it and, to her wonder, accepted her as one of them.

Maude came to appreciate that Maim was good with trails.

Somehow, Maim knew she was following him. Or, perhaps, he was learning to be careful as a habit. Either way, Maim was making it difficult to find him, which whetted her appetite to catch him and enjoy a many months-long pain session with him as the object.

Yet, work as she did, Maude was unable to catch him.

Somehow, Maim had practiced his stride until it became less remarkable. Nobody she asked remembered a walk with a slight limp.

Maim had to defend himself only once in a great while. This was a raw and lawless land and some people were inclined to let their ego lead them rather than their common sense.

Maim never killed, but he defended himself. Thus, a maiming did happen once in a while.

That is it, decided Maude. I will follow the maiming reports, as few as they are, instead of his trail.

Dandy Smiles

Having decided to follow reports of maiming instead of trying to trail Maim, Maude settled down in a town. She knew that any reports about a maiming would eventually float into the town’s tavern.

She found employment as a cleaner for a boarding house. It would let her buy ammunition and keep her horse at the stable.

The position came with room and board. The laundry and dusting were hard work. That, and helping out at meals, meant a lot of time on her feet. Maude didn’t mind. She grew up working hard and was comfortable with it.

A dandy was staying at the boarding house.

You know the type. The fellow dressed the best he could afford. He was found in the general store every week after getting paid for whatever he did for a living. His attention was attracted to the dry goods wall, mostly. He would buy enough of a gaudy material for a bandana or a shirt and hire the local seamstress to make it for him.

The dandy knew for a fact that he was irresistible to women, especially when wearing new clothes. His strut advertised his certainty.

Rarely was he seen with female company, however. It was because they were all bashful, he told himself. They were too shy to approach him.

But it was the dandy himself who was bashful and shy. His clothing and strut were the visible elements of his shell.

The dandy did notice Maude. Her manner conveyed such an unshakable certainty that he had a hard time convincing himself that she was bashful or shy. Her certainty stirred his desire. He was not consciously aware of it, but he had an inner wish for some of her certainty to rub off on him.

Maude noticed the desire and decided to build on it. She was certain that sooner or later the dandy would come out of his shell and approach her.

One of Maude’s brothers had been a bit of a dandy and Maude had coached him until he broke the shell. He then had much success with the females in the mountain village.

Maude had something different in mind for this dandy.

When she first noticed the dandy’s attraction to her, Maude decided it had been too long without the special pleasure she knew she needed for her continued feeling of wellbeing. The dandy would be a key to much pleasure for her as he wallowed in excruciating pain.

Thereafter, Maude deliberately stirred the dandy’s desire by expressing certainty in everything she did. She never let on that he was someone she might be interested in. Her attitude and certainty told the dandy that he was an average individual within a group of average individuals.

Daily, the dandy revealed more infatuation. Everybody noticed. They watched. And they wondered how Maude was going to respond when the dandy eventually built up enough courage to approach her.

Ever since she had arrived in town, Maude took her horse out for exercise two or three times a week. Sometimes she brought lunch and explored areas of the country she had not ridden before.

The terrain along a creek especially attracted her. She found several places where a man might be tortured with little sound escaping. They were hollows or places that had a hill or a cliff-like wall of rock on the town side.

Near the creek, there was a small area of quicksand that Maude thought might be utilized, but its surroundings were open and would do nothing to muffle screams.

One morning, the dandy was in the hallway when Maude stepped out of her boarding room.

Ah, ahem, said the dandy. Do you want to go somewhere?

Why, yes, I do! responded Maude. I am heading for the kitchen to help with breakfast.

Maude walked around the dandy and headed on down the hallway to the stairs.

She was soon out of the frustrated and disoriented dandy’s sight.

Good! Maude thought. He is visualizing a ride in the countryside.

The dandy did not approach her again for a full two weeks since his disappointing attempt at getting a date with Maude. Maude was coming to the conclusion that Dandy’s skin was quite thin. Or his shell was thick. Or both.

Then two things happened within the same hour.

The dandy got up enough gumption to ask for another date. And someone who had been at the tavern remarked to Maude that there was another maiming.

The dandy was a bit more precise with his question. It happened in the same hallway, at about the same time.

Maude, would you ride with me into the countryside tomorrow?

Let us do it today, Maude responded. Meet me at the stable about half an hour after the breakfast period is over. I will ask Lisa to take my laundry shift. She is always wanting to make more money. I sincerely do not know why. She just gives it to her husband.

Dandy nodded.

Maude left the dandy in the hallway and made her way downstairs.

The sudden change of his plans ought to keep his certainty from rising much, figured Maude.

Serving breakfast to a regular customer, the customer remarked that there had been another maim. Somewhere north, the customer said, perhaps forty miles, near a town called Twilight.

Now what, thought Maude as she continued working the dining room, delivering food and cleaning tables. I have worked too long on the dandy to just abandon that pleasure. He will make such good satisfactions.

As the morning went on, Maude worked it out. Dandy would be hurried even more.

The dandy was at the stable, horse ready, when Maude got there.

His saddle had silver coins attached to it. His riding boots were custom. His hat was newer than any other hat being worn in town.

Even the dandy’s pistol was custom. Not only was the stock engraved, but the bore was unusual. He