The farmland that had fed two generations before me was barren. We were in the middle of The Dust Bowl, or, The Dirty Thirties, that’s what they had named the dust storms and drought that blew away the top soil of the land and made it impossible to grow crops.

As if that wasn’t enough, the global economy had collapsed. 'The Great Depression' as President Hoover referred to it. The hard and desperate times that began on that fateful Black Tuesday, weren't going away anytime soon. And, would change the world forever.

I found work on the Mesabi iron range, to make ends meet. I was sending my hard earned pay back to my wife, in Nebraska. Most of my wages went to paying off the loan I had taken from the bank, to keep from losing my farm. All I could do was wait till the land could grow my wheat crop again.

A neighbor sent me a letter, telling me that my wife, and the banker that she had run off with, had declared me presumed dead in a mining disaster. The bank had repossessed my farm and put it up for sale. Citing, nonpayment of the loan to steal my farm.

My journey from Minnesota to Nebraska, to get my farm back, started with just the clothes I was wearing, a bedroll, and fifty dollars in my pocket.

I made it back to my farm in the fall of 32. The faded, weather beaten for sale sign swayed lazily in the chilly, dry wind. An all too common sign of the times everywhere you turned. I pulled the wooden stakes out of the ground and tore the sign to shreds.

Nothing was going to stop me from getting my farm back.

~

I passed through many shanty towns, or, Hoovervilles, as they were becoming popularly known across the country, on my way to Lincoln, Nebraska. They were named after Herbert Hoover, who was President when the economy crashed and was being blamed for not taking action sooner to avoid the economic disaster.

Each one was the same as the last. Hungry kids still played and ran around, laughing and screaming. Broken old men and women sitting on rickety chairs, secretly wishing they were dead, instead of being a burden to their families. Men and women trying to hold on to fast, fading hope. Worried and wondering where the next meal would come from. Everyone was talking about the New Deal, that Franklin D. Roosevelt, the newly elected President promised us in the fall of 1932. All the country could do was sit and wait for better days.

~

When I reached the city, I passed a crowded, dirty alley. The noisy crowd had formed a circle around two men engaged in a bare knuckle fight. I walked towards the crowd to size up the competition.

My dad and grandfather had been prize fighters. If a year’s harvest didn’t yield enough to cover the cost of staying in business, they made good money in the ring to cover the expenses. I had been trained in the art of fisticuffs by both of them, much to the disapproval of my mom and grandmother. I lost count of how many times my dad and grandfather caught shit for training me to fight, from mom and grandma at the dinner table. The memory brought a smile to my face.

My mom’s words had stayed with me. Every time I told her I wanted to be heavy weight champion of the world, just like John L. Sullivan. And, every time, she would remind me that he had died with only fifteen dollars to his name.

“Who’s next?” a voiced boomed out of the alley.

I made my way through the crowd to take a look at who was in the circle waiting for an opponent. He was a big man. Six foot-six, full beard, bald, thick muscular arms, thick around the waist and a neck as thick as a brahma bull’s.

“How much?” I called out to the barker.

The crowd became silent and all eyes turned to me.

The barker pointed at me and announced, “Half of the bets against you, and I’ll match what you put up. If, you can beat the reigning cham-peen, Mountain Jack!”

The crowd broke out in laughter and jeered me, “Go home grandpa! You’re too old! He’ll kill you!”

I had turned forty years old a few months back.

I took the last six dollars out of my pocket and made my way to the barker, “Six dollars. Count it.”

He waved the money over his head and announced with a chuckle, “Six whole dollars! I’ll give seven to one odds on the elderly gentleman to win!”

The crowd cheered and continued to laugh at me. The mountain in the middle of the circle grunted and beat his chest.

A beautiful, young redhead bumped in to me on her way to place a bet.

I tapped her shoulder and smiled at her when she turned around, “Don’t bet against me, you’ll lose your money.”

She looked up at me, unfazed, with fire in her big, green eyes and replied, “You’re a good looking man.” She stood up on her toes and kissed me. “Now you can tell everyone the last beautiful woman you ever kissed was Doreen O'Shaughnessy! Because after Jack punches your face out the back of your head, no woman will ever kiss you again!”

The crowd hollered and laughed.

Once all the bets had been placed, I took off my dirty shirt and made my way to the middle of the circle drawn in the dirt. Doreen bit her lip and felt a rush of sexual arousal as she stared at my muscular back, wide shoulders and slim waist.

The barker stood between the mountain and me and announced, “When I’m clear of the circle, fight!”

The mountain swung his ham of a fist at my head, before the barker cleared the circle in the dirt. I was ready. I had seen my dad fight many times, in and out of the ring. I knew every dirty trick in the book. I bent at the knees and bobbed to my right. I countered with a lightning fast, vicious right uppercut to his exposed chin, as I straightened out my legs, putting all of my two hundred pound body weight behind the punch.

Blood, sweat, and a few of his teeth flew straight up in to the air. His body hit the ground with a dull thud, before the teeth I had knocked out of his mouth did. The crowd went deathly silent. I looked at Doreen and winked at her.

The barker handed me ninety six dollars and asked, “Will you be back?”

“Maybe,” was all I replied.

I bent down to pick up my shirt. Doreen stepped on it with one foot and lifted the hem of her dress up to the top of her thighs. I stared at her smooth, slender, shapely legs and smiled as the crowd whistled and hollered.

“I hope you fuck longer than you fight,” She said to me, and asked, “You a hitter?”

“I’m farmer. As to how long I can fuck, how bad do you need to know?” I asked with a grin.

“In your dreams, boyo. If you don’t get your fool self killed in a fight, I’d surely fuck you to death in a bed,” She snickered and walked out of the alley.

I liked the little redhead’s spirit. I looked forward to seeing her again.

~

I paid for a week's accommodation at a nearby hotel. I shaved, trimmed my goatee, and took a long overdue bath. Got dressed in new, second hand clothes and made my way to the bar to eat. I spotted the pretty redhead laughing as she served and chatted with the men at the bar. I took a seat; Doreen spotted me in the mirror and walked slowly towards me.

“You cost me a week’s worth of tips this afternoon,” She said as she poured me a whiskey.

“I told you not to bet against me,” I flashed a cocky smile at her.

“What’s your name?”

“Gil,” I replied and placed a dollar on the bar.

Doreen’s eyes shot to the door, she leaned in close and whispered, “You got company, and not the good kind.”

“I’m looking for the hitter,” a woman calmly announced while her bodyguard pushed people out of her way, clearing a path for her straight to me.

She was dressed like a movie star, long black dress, high heels, and a big, red silk hat. I spotted the barker from the alley following closely behind her.

“I’m a farmer who got a lucky punch in, not a hitter,” I said to the bold, well dressed woman as I turned in my seat to face her.

She looked me over, “I’m Isabelle. I was hoping you would be interested in joining my stable of fighters. You’d make good money,” She smiled as she spoke.

“I’ll make more farming. All John L. Sullivan had when he died was fifteen dollars to his name,” I replied.

I looked at her bodyguard and sized him up. He was big, wide and had a boxers face. The scar tissue around his eyes and his twisted, flat nose, left no doubt that he was a professional fighter.

“Like I said, it was a lucky punch. Besides, I’m sure we can all agree that I’m much too handsome to be a hitter,” I added.

The crowd laughed and Doreen wolf whistled.

“Come now, don’t insult me. I’ll admit that Marco,” she turned to the boxer and placed her hand on his shoulder, “is a hitter. You do the same, and we can talk about a fight. You’ll make a lot of money.”

I chuckled, “Your gorilla is pro, not a hitter.”

She smirked as she replied, “I’m glad we understand each other. And, I suggest you watch what you say about Marco. He’s killed three men in the ring.”

“He’s a big boy. He’s more than welcome to make the first move if he doesn’t like what I say about him,” I growled at her.

Marco finally spoke, “I’m not afraid of anyone my father’s age.”

The crowd laughed at Marco’s remark and started chanting his name. Doreen looked at me with concern in her eyes and shook her head, signaling me to stop.

Marco was grinding his teeth and sweating hard. His pupils were dilated and he was fidgety. I’d seen the effects of cocaine in other fighters. He had obviously taken a few vials of it, in the event a fight broke out. When I fought him, I wouldn’t agree to rounds. He would have to take a lot of cocaine before the fight. There was no way I would allow him the opportunity to take more during the fight.

“I’ll cut to the chase, five thousand dollars to step in the ring with Marco. You have captured everyone’s attention. We should take advantage of that and schedule the fight quickly, before everyone forgets about you, farmer man. Go see Police Chief O’Hara if you’re interested, he’ll bring you to me,” Isabelle scoffed and walked out of the bar.

Doreen whispered to me, “No one can beat Marco. Leave the city tonight, if you know what’s good for you.”

I winked, smiled at her and replied, “And never get the chance to kiss you again, Doreen O'Shaughnessy? Not a chance in hell that’s going to happen.”

Her cheeks flushed pink as she fought back a smile, “Fool! If I kiss you again, will you promise to leave?”

“If you kiss me again, I might never leave,” I grinned.

“Idiot!” She huffed and walked away from me as she coyly smiled to herself.

A loud knock on my door woke me up late that evening. Doreen stormed past me when I opened the door. Her hair was still wet and tied back. The perfume she was wearing told me that she was in my room for more than just to try to get me to leave the city.

“Do you know who Isabelle is?” She asked.

“I know what she is,” I answered.

“Then you know you are out of your league, Gil. There is no way this turns out good for you. She just wants to take advantage of desperate people to bet on you and take their money. She’ll give high odds on you to win and a lot of people are going to borrow money from her to bet on you. She’s a heartless bitch who cares only about making more money,” She desperately warned me.

“She’s promoting the fight; she’s going to make a ton of money no matter who wins. Don’t bet against me, you’ll lose your money,” I replied.

I was dressed only in my underwear. Doreen looked over my chiseled body and became more aroused. The slight flushing in her cheeks made her green eyes look bigger. My cock shifted as it began to grow. It had been a long time since I had fucked a woman. Let alone, a woman as beautiful as the fiery, redhead standing in front of me.

I grabbed her by the shoulders, pulled her to me and kissed her.

“You got your kiss, now, leave the city, please,” She couldn’t stop herself from panting the words.

I kissed her again as I slid one hand over her full, soft breast. Doreen moaned and pushed her chest against my hand. I placed my other hand on her firm, young ass and pulled her to me. The hardness and heat from my throbbing cock sent a shiver through her.

It had been a long time since Doreen had been pleasured by a man. She got up on her toes, wrapped her arms around my neck, and kissed me back with an urgent, deep hunger. The wetness between her legs was a liquid fire. She lifted one leg and wrapped it around my waist. I lifted her in my arms and carried her to the bed.

“Uhhhhhhfuck!” She softly moaned.

I fell on top of her on the bed and slid my hand to the wet mound between her legs; she spread her legs and gasped as my finger slid inside her.

“Fuck me, please!” she panted.

I pulled my cock out of my underwear and aimed it at her slick opening. When she felt my hot, cock head touch her swollen pussy lips, she thrust her hips off the mattress, taking half of my cock’s length inside her.

“Fuck!” I grunted and stabbed the rest of my cock savagely inside her.

“Ohhhhhhyesssss!” Doreen gasped and pumped her hips faster.

“Fill me!”

I felt her pussy tighten around my cock. She suddenly quivered all over and squeezed her legs tighter around my waist. Her quivering pussy took me over the edge. I grunted and groaned as my cock pumped her full of cum.

“Mmmmmm,” Doreen cooed in my ear once her orgasm subsided.

I was still hard for her and kept thrusting my cock slowly in and out of her pussy.

“Ughhh!” she moaned every time my cock bottomed out inside her.

She was small inside, tight and incredibly hot. I picked up the pace and force of the pounding I was giving her tight, young cunt. She moaned, and thrashed her body in approval. We locked our eyes on each other’s as our fucking built up to a frenzied, barbaric pace. The room filled with loud, wet, slapping sounds of our bodies colliding.

“Oooooooohhhhhhhhfuuuuuuuuck!” Doreen screamed out as she tried to fend off another orgasm from ripping through her.

Her mouth opened wide in a silent scream as she quivered again and exploded in ecstasy. Her eyes locked on mine intensified her orgasm. The thought of me watching her in her most private and pleasurable moment excited her.

I kept pounding her young cunt long after she came. Her clit was still tingling, waves of pleasure shot through her every time my cock sunk in to her and my pelvis pounded against her swollen clit. I felt cum starting to travel to the base of my cock. I quickly pulled out of her, got up on my knees, grabbed her wet hair and pulled her mouth to my cock. Doreen smiled at me and held my gaze as she hungrily sucked and stroked my cock.

I threw my head back and grunted as I fed my cum to her. She swallowed every drop and smacked her lips when my balls were empty.

I held her in my arms as we talked. I told her what had happened to me. She told me that her husband up and left her in the middle of the night, two years ago, a few days after she missed her period and thought she was with child. It turned out that she wasn’t pregnant, although she wanted to be, more than anything in the world.

Doreen spent that night with me. We started the next morning off with a slow, long fuck, before we went for breakfast.

I was sipping my coffee when Doreen grabbed my hand and stared me down, “Promise me you won’t look too ugly after the fight. I couldn’t kiss you again if you were too ugly.”

I chuckled, “I’ll promise, if you promise you’ll think about leaving this town with me.”

She smiled and winked at me, “Stay as handsome as you are, and this Irish lass will follow you anywhere, boyo.”

~

I was escorted to Isabelle’s office by the old and rugged police chief.

I didn’t waste time in stating my terms, “Ten thousand dollars, no referee, no rounds, bare knuckles. One man walks out of the ring. I want five hundred now, the rest I’ll be betting on me to win.”

Marco looked at Isabelle, hoping she wouldn’t agree to the no rounds stipulation.

Isabelle laughed out loud, “We have a deal. I’ll get word out that we have a new main event for Saturday night.”

She reached in her drawer and counted out five hundred dollars, and wrote the marker for the rest. I picked both up off her desk and left her office.

O’Hara’s steel heel and toe taps echoed through the corridor in a slow, steady rhythm as we walked.

“You don’t look like either of them,” Chief O’Hara said to me in his low, gruff, thick Irish accent.

I remained silent and continued walking.

“I know who you are, Mr. Renard. And I have no intention of telling anyone,” He stopped walking.

I turned to face him and grinned, “I loved my father and grandfather. But, they were both uglier than sin. I am grateful I get my looks from my mother’s side of the family.”

“If you’re half the fighter that they were, Marco doesn’t stand a chance. Are you as good a fighter as they were?” He asked me in a serious tone, “Would it be foolish to bet on you to win, Mr. Renard? Five to one odds are rare. I’d hate to miss out on a pile of money.”

“My farm was stolen from me. I’d beat the devil himself and not break a sweat, to get the farm back. They were both great fighters, Chief O’Hara. I’m a far better fighter than both of them combined. And, I’m going to make sure that gorilla never hurts anyone again. Bet everything you got on me,” I replied in a cold as ice tone.

“Damn shame you’re not an Irishman, Gilly boy. But, if you fight like one, that makes us family in my books. Anything you need, you just ask me,” He smiled.

“You can accompany me to the bank that holds the deed to my farm,” I took him up on his offer.

“Lead the way,” He replied.

~

The secretary let us know that Mr. Scott, the bank manager, would be with us shortly. We heard the frantic shuffling of papers coming from behind the closed door. A few minutes passed, Mr. Scott opened the door and excitedly asked us to enter.

“Oh my, Mr.Renard, I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you are alright! Your wife was inconsolable when we got the word that you had perished in the mine,” He nervously stuttered.

“I don’t have a wife. I’m here to inquire about my farm,” I coldly stated.

“Well, it’s only fair you get half of its worth, I will make an exception in lieu of this unfortunate misunderstanding. But, as you know, times are hard and we have only gotten a few offers,” He stuttered and wiped the sweat that was building up on his brow as he pushed four papers to the edge of his desk.

I placed my fingertips on one of the papers and ran my thumb over the signature. The ink smudged, it was still wet. He swallowed hard and quickly turned his eyes to the handcuffs on Chief O’Hara’s belt.

“I can get you cash from the vault, for half of the highest offer. I’m sure you could use fifteen hundred dollars,” He rushed to get the words out and quickly pulled the papers away from me.

I smiled at him and made a counter offer, “I don’t know much about contracts or the law. Perhaps, Chief O’Hara could offer some advice.” I turned to O’Hara and asked, “Would I be able to buy my farm back from the bank for five hundred dollars? That’s what was left on the loan, before my farm was stolen from me.”

O’Hara rubbed his chin, tapped his fingers on the handcuffs and pretended to ponder the question, “I don’t see why not. It sounds like a fair deal, in lieu of this unfortunate misunderstanding.”

The banker swallowed hard and replied, “Of course. I’ll sign the deed over to you right now. No need to drag this on.”

I took out the cash from my pocket and slammed the five hundred dollars on his desk, “I’ll take the deed and a receipt, now, Mr. Scott,” I snarled at him.

~

Chief O’Hara entered my dressing room, “You’re fighting a gorilla on a lot of cocaine. He’s in the ring already, with his heart pounding like two jack-rabbits fucking.”

“Good, let him sweat a bit longer under the hot lights, and work some of that cocaine out of his system,” I grinned.

I waited five minutes before I made my way to the ring. I watched the crowd get to their feet to get a glimpse of me. All I could hear was the steady beat of my heart pounding in my ears.

I stepped through the ropes and entered the ring.

Marco charged at me and threw a right hand aimed at my head; all of hell’s fury was behind his punch. I pivoted to the left on my toes, and watched the punch fly harmlessly over my right shoulder. I bent my knees and drove a merciless left hook in to his ribs. I heard him huff as I pushed off my left foot, stepped away from his right hand, and threw straight right at his exposed chest.

“That’s all you got old man!?” He screamed out and beat his fists on his head.

I didn’t reply. He’d feel the full effect of those two punches as the cocaine worked its way out of his body. He came at me again with another right hand. I stepped to the left and threw a hard right hook at his solar plexus. He huffed again and grabbed me, pushing me against the ropes. When I felt his right arm release its grip on me, I threw a short, left uppercut to his chin. He stepped back in a daze and shook his head to clear out the cobwebs. I took a step forward and threw another right cross at his chest, followed by another left hook to his ribs.

It wouldn’t take much more to make him kiss the canvas. But, I wanted to punish him a bit longer. He back peddled to the opposite corner of the ring. I chased him and feinted a left hook to his body. He dropped his right arm to protect his sore ribs and took a vicious right cross to his chest. His heart wasn’t pounding like two jack-rabbits fucking anymore. The punch fractured his sternum. I heard the sickening crack come from his chest, as my knuckles dug in to him.

He was ready to be dropped. I threw a left hook at his liver that ended the fight. A punch to the liver is excruciatingly painful and incapacitates an opponent immediately. I followed up with a right cross to his head, my fist grazed his nose and I drove my elbow in to his jaw. His face exploded in a bloody mess. His jaw was shattered; blood, spit, sweat and teeth flew out of his mouth and landed on spectators sitting four rows back.

I drove my shoulder in to Marco's chest and pushed him against the corner buckles to keep him from falling down. He was out cold on his feet. My eyes met Isabelle’s; she was still seated in the front row. I grinned at her, and waited for her to give me a sign if I should stop. She stood up and walked to the ring.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Renard,” She calmly informed me and motioned the doctor in to the ring.

I nodded at her and stepped away from Marco. He collapsed to the canvas like a rag doll. The doctor climbed in to the ring and called for a stretcher.

Marco’s fighting days were officially over.

~

Doreen and Chief O’Hara had made their way to my dressing room as I fought my way through the crowd. When I closed the door behind me, Doreen jumped in to my arms and kissed me.

“If I’m to follow you, your fighting days are over. Y’hear me, boyo!” She said with a smile on her face.

O’Hara laughed and slapped my shoulder, “My money is on the little lady, Gilly boy. You’ve met your match.”

“Don’t bet against me, you’ll lose your money,” Doreen snickered and kissed me.

Six years later.

Our farm was thriving. The economy was slowly recovering and the drought had passed. We had a full time crew to help with the crops and livestock.

But…somethings never change.

“Gil Anthony Renard! If you’re teaching our kids to fight again, I’ll tan your Italian ass!” Doreen yelled from outside the barn doors.

Our children were five year old twins, Claire, our daughter, and Benjamin, our son. They screamed and ran to hide behind the bales of hay, just as Doreen opened the barn door.

“Ohhhh, Daddy’s in big trouble again, Mommy called him by his long name,” Claire whispered to Benjamin.

They both snickered as they covered their mouths with their little hands.

“What have you got to say for yourself, mister?” Doreen asked as she crossed her arms and tapped her foot on the dirt floor.

“You’re beautiful when you’re angry,” I smiled at her.

“Come out from behind the hay this instant you two, and go straight to your rooms! Don’t even think of looking at the cookies I baked!” Doreen called out.

They screamed and laughed as they high tailed it out of the barn. Doreen smiled as she watched our kids scurry way. I love the look in Doreen’s eyes when she looks at our children. It’s a look that leaves no doubt that life is good, no matter how hard the times get.

“What am I going to do with you, Gil?” before she could say another word, I took her in my arms and kissed her.

“Mmmmmm,” She moaned.

I laid her down on the hay.

“Is someone horny for my wet, hot pussy?” She teasingly asked me.

I grunted and pulled her dress down over her firm breasts, squeezing them before I sucked on each nipple.

“Fuck! You always make me hot!” Doreen panted.

I lifted the hem of her dress over her hips and rubbed her moist slit through her panties.

“Fuuuuuck! Eat my pussy, please, Gil. Make me cum!” She moaned as her body writhed in aching pleasure.

I licked and lapped at her dripping slit as I fingered her. My cock was throbbing so hard that it hurt. I turned my attention to her clit, sucked it in to my mouth and fingered her faster. I wanted her to cum quickly. I needed to be inside her.

“Ohhhh, Ohhhhhhhh, Ohhhhhhhhhh!” She moaned like a cat in heat as she came.

“Thank you, boyo!” She cheerfully said to me as she pushed me off her, stood up and adjusted her dress.

“You aren’t going to leave me like this, are you?” I asked as I pointed to my throbbing cock.

“You bet I am. You know how much I hate you teaching our kids to fight. Claire is a little girl for crying out loud! I want her to be a proper lady and get an education. Consider your sexy wife’s body off limits to you for two weeks. Maybe that will teach you to heed my wishes,” She winked at me and turned to walk away.

“Maybe I should spank that gorgeous, Irish ass of yours for leaving me like this,” I laughed.

“Don’t you try sweet talking me in to fucking you. But, now that you mention it, I’ll expect my gorgeous, Irish ass to be nice and red, before you properly fuck it. Two weeks from today, and not a minute sooner,” She laughed, lifted her dress and exposed her fine ass to me as she walked away.

O’Hara had been right all those years ago.

I had met my match.

And I couldn’t have been any happier.