Cyrus: Swamp Heads
Read Cyrus: Swamp Heads Online
Authors: Esther E. Schmidt
“Cyrus” Swamp Heads #1
By Esther E. Schmidt
Copyright © 2016 by Esther E. Schmidt
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, without permission in writing from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Incidents, names, places, characters and other stuff mentioned in this book is the results of the author’s imagination. Cyrus is a work of fiction. If there is any resemblance, it is entirely coincidental.
This content is for mature audiences only. Please do not read if sexual situations, violence and explicit language offends you.
Cover design by:
Esther E. Schmidt
Photographer:
Bianca Schmidt
www.facebook.com/offleashphotographyb
Editor:
Christi Williams Durbin
Christi Williams Durbin
Although you keep telling me I’m the one who writes the book... It needs to be in black and white that I need your ass to do such things.
This one’s for you.
Thanks for your help, bitch.
Special thanks:
Fran Gray, thanks for putting up with my weirdness & being there for me, always.
Neringa, Cathy, Sunny, Jolanda, Rebecca, Tracy, Judy, thanks for your opinions!
Swamp Head Series – Author’s note;
Cyrus is the first novella in The Swamp Head Series; a seven book novella series based on a family born and raised in the swamp. Each sibling will get their own INSTAlove story told and even though it is a series, each book is a standalone. Come meet Cyrus and his other six brothers and sisters; Chester, Earle & Zeke (twins), Roscoe, Hallie Mae & Elsie (twins). Although they each have their own character and language, I’ve chosen to use words like
Voila merde
, when I mean go to shit,
yapper
for mouth, or
connard
when I mean asshole, duck/effin for fuck/fucking… well, you get the idea. All fun and games with a bite and a little mud.
***Cyrus***
My blasted shoes are ruined. Ruined.
Voila merde
. And the way my life is going right now? The sticky, thick mud covering my four hundred dollar shoes might as well be the cherry on the shitty pie.
I slam the car door of my newly modified Beemer and start towards the house. My foot freezes in mid-air, the second the sound of a shotgun blast rings out and impacts the dirt right in front of my foot.
“Stop shooting,
connard
…” My voice bounces off the trees that surround the house.
“Shut your yapper, boy.” The cracking voice I hear is one I immediately recognize as my old man’s.
Pa is sitting on the porch in his rocking chair. My brother stumbles out of the house with his pants half way to his ankles. “Why are ya shooting?”
He looks around and his eyes find mine. “Cyrus? That you?” He looks back at our father. “What the hell are you shooting at Cyrus for?”
“No son of mine has a city haircut. How the hell would I know that’s my boy, Cyrus? High cotton…are you sick, boy?”
Making my way to the house, I step up on the porch. “How’ve you been, Pa?”
“A lot better than the way you look.” He spits beside him on the porch.
I watch as the tobacco juice almost lands on Chester’s bare foot. Thank Christ he pulled his pants up.
“Didn’t we tell ya to stop chewing that disgusting tobacco?” Annoyance tinges Chester’s voice a little, yet his face is resigned that his words will hit deaf man’s ears anyway.
Pa waves his hand dismissively and places the shotgun on the table next to his rocking chair. Shoving one hand into the waist of his pants, Al Bundy Style, while his other hand grabs a beer.
“How long are ya stayin’, Cyrus?” my brother asks.
I run a hand through my dark hair. It’s longer on top but the sides have been shaved down to less than an inch. The full beard might be the only thing I have left from when I used to live here, and even that’s neatly groomed. Contemplating for a second, I decide I might as well tell them the truth. I’m here to stay. For a while, at least.
“I bought a house a few miles down the road. Bobby Waymonds’ place. So I’ll be here a while.”
My brother saunters towards me. “I had no idea Bobby wanted to sell his place. I mean… Bertie stays there sometimes too, did you close the deal with Bobby himself or with Wilbur?”
I shrug my shoulders since I don’t effin know. “Dunno. My assistant drove up here two weeks ago; she got the papers and shit signed. Everything is legit so that’s all that matters.”
“Holy Mary-Mother of Jesus, is that legal? Just sign a paper and get a house in return?” Chester’s voice is filled with awe. Blasted idiot.
I resist smacking him upside the head, ‘cause Pa might have done that a few times too many already throughout the years.
“You idiot. After they signed the papers, they got cash. I bought the effin place. Or I damn well hope so…
Merde
. They’re gone, right? I mean, the house is supposed to be empty.”
Chester shakes his head. “I saw Bertie sweeping the porch last night, so I reckon they’re still there. Why?”
Why?
Dagnammit
. His brain isn’t even worth two cents. “’Cause I bought the effin place and need to crash there tonight, that’s why. I’ve got a truck coming in a few hours with some basic stuff. The hell with this, I’m going over… wanna come with?”
Chester nods and we head to the car. When he climbs in the seat next to me I look down and see he’s still barefoot. Yeah, that’s my big brother… Never heard the word shoes.
Backing up, I pop it into first and pull out onto the road to drive the few miles over to my new place. Well… new is an understatement but it was the best house around these parts so I had my assistant arrange the whole thing. Papers were signed last week and the money was transferred. I really hope the old owners are gone because I don’t want to deal with them. All I want is an empty house, some new stuff to put in it and the ability to put my feet up, relax and think things over.
I need this; getting back to my roots. Ever since I smashed my goal of becoming a millionaire before I turned thirty, I kinda feel lost.
Dagnammit
, I’ve just turned twenty-four and I’m whining because I’ve got tons and tons of money in the bank. To be honest… I never thought I’d live up to that dream and now I feel like there’s nothing more to do. Like I said… I need to get back to my roots. Gotta figure out what I want in life.
For the second time today I plant my shoes in ankle deep mud. The moment I slam my car door out of frustration, I look up to see if anyone is on the porch. Yeah, I really don’t want anyone else shooting rounds at me.
An angry female voice floats from the house. “Get your ass in that rocking chair, Pa. You know you need to stay the hell out of my way when I’m cleaning. And why did you let the chickens inside. How many times do I need to tell you they shit all over the place?”
An old guy stumbles out of the door. He’s wearing a dirty union suit that’s half open and hiking boots that he didn’t even bother to tie. Even his beard looks dirty, like he’s been eating beans and didn’t bother to wipe it off. For like a week. That’s effin disgusting.
The minute the broom smacks his ass the old man spins around with two chickens flying out on each side of him, I see her. I am in awe. Ropes of dirty blond hair tumble out from underneath a cap, making it hard to see her face. But that body… Smoking. A great set of tits wrapped in a red and black lumberjack shirt with a knot tied to show off a smooth belly I’d like to lick right down to the…
How the hell is she allowed to walk around in that shit? Her cutoffs can’t even be called shorts ‘cause if you’d say shorts… the damn things would disappear. That’s how effin short and high up her effin long legs they are.
I brace my hand on my car to keep me upright. Grounded. I need to catch my breath or otherwise I’ll have my tongue on my effin shoes, lapping dirt. While all I want is to lap that sweet pussy and…
“Cyrus. Close your damn yapper man… Bertie will kick you in the balls if you look at her like that. I ain’t shitting you. She doesn’t allow it, not from anyone.” Leave it to my brother to set me straight and drag me out of my lust filled moment. And…doesn’t allow it? What the hell is that all about?
“Too late now…” My brother uses a low sing song voice.
Turning, I see the hot chick stalking right up to me, raising the broom like she wants to hit me in the head with it. Stepping forward, I deflect; grab her wrist and spin her around. Crushing her tightly against my chest.
My eyes sweep over the side of her face and see it’s jagged with scars. Leaning in, I brush my mouth over the angry red skin. She freezes the moment she feels the touch. Her breath hitches.
Angling closer to her ear, I whisper. “Gonna have to do better than that,
Ma Poupée.
”
I feel the change in her body when I breathe out that little term of endearment at the end. I let her go and step back. She spins on her heel, eyes blazing.
“I am
not
your doll. And if you ever…” She steps closer to me and grabs my shirt in her tiny fist to drag me closer to her face.
“
Ever
, touch me again, I’ll cut you up and feed you to Nana. You might be high cotton and all that, but rest assured, that means nothing down here.”
Leaning in some more so I’m just a breath away from her lips. “Didn’t your pa tell ya to never underestimate your opponent,
Ma Poupée
? I was born a few miles from here, so I know everything… apart from you. With you throwing a challenge on the table, I gladly accept.”
The grunt or scream that slips from her mouth is adorable. Yeah. She might chase others away with her hard shell, but that stuff just draws me in all the more.
“Get off my property. Right. Freaking. Now.”
She stomps her red cowboy boot, that’s clearly seen better days, and points in the opposite direction of the house.
My house
.
“Careful now, I could say the same thing… and that would mean your tight ass would be walking those hot boots away from
my house
.”
There’s a low growl and her fists are clenching. I don’t know if she’s more offended by me addressing her tight ass, hot boots or the fact that I just told her that’s my house and not hers.
Except, she turns back and groans. “Paaaaaa… What the hell did you do now?”
The old man looks around him, as if he’s searching for the man she’s calling pa. Bertie turns her head back at me. “You got the paperwork to back this up?”
I nod and open the car door to grab a copy of the papers. Handing them over she takes a look and her eyes find mine. Shit. Sadness and defeat. Such a huge effin difference from the fire that was blazing in those dark gray thunderous eyes a moment ago.
She walks over to her dad and holds out the paper in front of his nose. “Why the hell did ya sign this, Pa? Why? You know we don’t need the cash and you guys sure as hell don’t have any place else to go.”
The old man looks it over and points at his signature. He gives a smile and the only two teeth the man has are on display. “Wilbur gave me a bag of jelly beans if I signed. So I did.”
Dropping the hand with the paper, she smacks her forehead with the other. She mutters. “Wilbur. Of course. Why the hell else would that sneaky little weasel disappear into thin air without leaving so much as a note?”
Turning she takes a few steps toward me, stops and throws back, “Jelly beans, Pa? Really?”
Shaking her head, she walks back to me. “Listen, this is all a big mistake. Clearly you can see my pa isn’t in his right mind. So I’ll just give you your money back and you can go back to your city life.”
My eyes rove up and down that delightful body. “You got that kinda cash lyin’ around,
Ma Poupée?
”
Fury laces her voice. “Not your
Poupée.
Mudfoot.”
“Tsk tsk. Now, that’s no way to speak when you’re doin’ business.”
She glares at me until I give her the amount, then fear flashes for a moment before she controls her emotions.
“What if I pay you half now and you loan me the other half? I’ll track down that weasel brother of mine and get you the cash as soon as I can. Deal?”
My hand strokes my beard, pulling it slightly at the end while I think things over.
“Well?” Her voice is demanding. Clearly this feisty girl doesn’t have much patience.
My gaze zips in the direction of her father. “Sir. Do you have anything valuable to pawn or to sweeten the deal?”
By the sound of his cracking voice he seems to think things over. “Valuable? I don’t think I have… Maybe my daughter...”
Bingo.
Not letting him finish that sentence, I jump in, “How about half of the money now and your daughter as leverage for the other half.”
“Hell no! My pa meant to say, maybe I’d have somethin’, and you damn well know it. Not happening. I ain’t no darn lady of pleasure or servant for your sleazy ass. Go and buy yourself a hooker or two for all I care.”
She’s cut off by her father shouting, “Hey mister…”
My eyes stay on her while I answer, “Yeah?”
“You got jelly beans?”
My chuckle seems to spike her anger because right now she looks like she wants to murder me here on the spot.
I answer her father truthfully. “I can get my hands on as many as you’d like.”
The old man jumps out of his chair like a effin five-year-old and starts to run towards me with his hand out. “You got yourself a deal!”
Before she can get one word out of that pretty mouth I take her father’s hand and shake on it. “Deal.”
“No. Freaking. Way.” She fumes.
Letting go of her dad’s hand, I step toward her. “Better believe it…
Ma Poupée
.” I groan out that little endearment and I can see her anger visibly tips before her fist connects with my eye.
***Bertie***
Asshole. Arrogant son of a bitch. He’s gonna have another black eye if he thinks he can own me.
“I am in no way part of a deal. You’re insane.” My voice is high pitched but I can’t seem to calm down.
The idiot grins at me while his hand goes to the eye that met my fist a moment ago. “Women do participate in arranged marriages sometimes, you know.”
“Oh man… don’t tell me you’re one of those guys. You know… brainless…fall out of a tree and hit your ugly head on every branch on the way down.”
I spin on my heel and head toward the house. I’m done with this idiot.
“Now hold up there, Spunky.” Husky. How does he keep his voice like that when I’ve punched his face and haven’t said one nice word to him since he stepped on our property? Or, shit. His property. Note to self; kill my brother.
I come to a stop without turning. “Now what?”
He comes up behind me and it’s like the heat of his body surrounds me. I try to block it out but when he pulled me close to him a moment ago… A quick shake of my head allows me to drop the desire flaming inside my veins and settle low inside my belly. I don’t want it, and for sure as hell don’t need it right now.