San Francisco, Present Day

“Holy shit, this book is old. Looks like... a diary?”

“It’s extremely old, be careful. And yes, it’s the journal of Pearl Honeycut. She’s the reason this ranch exists today.”

“You’re related to her, right babe?”

“Yes ma’am. I reckon she’s my aunt from six, maybe seven generations ago.”

“Ma’am? Reckon? Cute.”

“I need to finish straightening up. You should read it. Flip toward the back, where I have my bookmark. There’s so much passion, might make for a good book someday. ”

November 15, 1852

I miss Wilhemina dearly. It’s been over three months since we pulled off the stagecoach heist. She was right about the money, but there was way more security. Each day, I hold out hope the shot she took wasn’t bad and she's just laying low. I curse that our plan was to separate.

I’ve been heading north, like we discussed, searching all her normal hideouts along the way. I haven’t a clue on how to start a whiskey business, but if the rest of the money and plans are stashed where she mapped out, I will find them and, I will wait.

I miss her. I miss us.

January 24, 1853

Made it to San Francisco. Willie’s gonna love it here. This city is bustling with so many folks, it’ll be easy for us to blend right in. The air here is damp, not like the desert. The nights are cold, even colder without her.

I stay warm with thoughts of us.

I remember the first time I laid eyes on her. She was at the card table, poker I think. I was slinging drinks and watched as she tossed back whiskey, like it was water. I had to help her up to her room. None of them boys was gonna, not after she took all their money. That still makes me chortle.

She kissed me that night. Her tongue still tasted like whiskey. I’d always felt boys weren’t right for me. But, that kiss kinda took me by surprise. Waves fluttered through my body. Of course, I never let on about any of that, wanted her to think I knew what I was doing. It wasn’t long before our hands were feeling each other's bodies. Exploring. Then, she took me to her bed. That was the first time I had fingers inside me, fingers that weren’t mine, that is. But, she passed out. I was steamed. She made up for it though, the next morning.

I had no idea my body could feel that on fire, especially from another woman. Her tongue snaked all over my sensitive parts, igniting me. Lips wrapped tight on my clitoris and sucked until my body shuddered. I loved seeing that glistening smile as she told me how good I taste. ‘Just like honey.’  

No one ever made me feel like that.

“I see where you get your sexiness from, babe”

“I’m related to Pearl. Willie was the erotic one.”

“Then, maybe I’m related to Willie?”

“You’re incorrigible.”

February 3, 1853

I saw someone that looked like her today. My heart skipped and I actually felt nervous. I reached for my pistol. Ha! The stranger sure was pretty, but not like my Willie.

She always knew how to make me melt with those eyes. So many times I wanted to plug her full of lead, but that stare, it always broke my spirit. She’d have my clothes off faster than I could remember why I wanted to shoot her in the first place.

Maybe she’s out somewhere on the prairie, laying by a fire, dreaming of how we used to press our naked bodies together.

Once, we’d gotten all sweaty rolling in the dust. We ran, naked as jaybirds, down to the watering hole. She held me as we floated. I danced my nipples over hers. She whispered for me to push my fingers up inside her cunny. I loved the feel of her warm, silky wetness. She’d squirm in my arms whenever I swirled my fingers, tracing circles on that spongy button. I knew she finished when her nails dug into my back, screams echoed the canyon walls. I’d take my fingers out and lick them. I ain’t the only one who tastes like honey.

“You definitely inherited the honey, babe”

”You’re pretty sweet yourself.”  

February 18, 1853

Still no signs of Willie. In my mind, she’s just off on another adventure, but I fear the worst. I found someone to help me start the whiskey business. Jacob Forsythe. Turns out he already knew Willie, met somewhere near Cheyene. I had no idea she was ever out that far. There is so much I didn’t know about her. Jacob’s been filling me in though. Apparently, she’d been robbing corrupt aristocrats all along. Money coming in from England to help fund some communal uprising. I don’t know how robbing my money fit in, other than to keep me on her tail.

“Damn, Willie was brilliant.”

“Maybe I should steal from you? Keep you on my tail?”

“With a tail like yours, the only thing you’re stealin’ is muh heart.”

“You did not just say that.”

September 2, 1853

Willie was right, the whiskey’s been selling like hotcakes. I have paid off the ranch. Now, we will start building the orphanage like she wanted. Ground breaking ceremony is tomorrow.

I keep an empty stall in the barn, reserved special for her horse. I put a clawfoot soaking tub in the bath like she likes and a special bottle of honey whiskey, made just for her.

Mama once said, ‘Faith requires belief without proof.’ My heart will forever remain true that one day I’ll reunite with my Wilhemina Macintosh.

“Is that it?”

“That’s the only journal ever found.”

“But, I need to know how this legendary love story ends.”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to, babe. You fill the clawfoot tub, I’ll grab some whiskey and my cowgirl hat. We will script our own finale.”