Sage Sweetwater is the name of Colorado firebrand lesbian novelist, storyteller, poet, and songwriter. Sage Sweetwater is the lesbian equivalent to Louis L'Amour, master storyteller of the American frontier.
Sage Sweetwater has published three lesbian pulp fiction dime-store novels with AuthorHouse, THE BUCKSKIN SKIRT OAR TRAVELER and FROM THE CONVENT TO THE RAWHIDE: THE SAGA OF SADIE CADE AND VI MONTANA. Sage released BLUE CORN WOMAN in December 2007 and DOMINGA RIO OF CUERO in March 2009, adapted to screen to be a motion picture. Her FOUR CORNERS SERIES stories are the flagship of STONE CREEK WOMAN, a medicine camp in Colorado's Western frontier. Stone Creek Woman leads other women across Colorado's western frontier to get themselves back into the primal element of life in an undiluted, natural environment.
Sage Sweetwater stories are intentionally written for the movies, making sure her characters and plots are visual and translate well on screen. Sage Sweetwater's lesbian Western pulp fiction dime-store novel FROM THE CONVENT TO THE RAWHIDE: THE SAGA OF SADIE CADE AND VI MONTANA published by AuthorHouse has been adapted to screen to be a film.
Sage Sweetwater is a celebrity featured lesbian novelist on Authors Den.
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CHAPTER 3
The Cowgirls and the Blue-Tattooed Nipples
Water, money, seed corn, and pawn trinkets are all stored and accounted for, and there is plenty of each, plenty to be reminded of. As a collection, what is displayed in the Blue Corn Trading Post is earmarked for pathfinders, dreamers, healers, spirit guides, mentors, seekers, and post-card poets, writers whose words are dictated by the desert scenery displayed on the cactus lamps with hand-colored photographs printed on plastic-coated paper and laced to a lampshade.
Surely as a hot iron brands a calf, the drama of the day kicks up the dust like the sharp, busy hoofs of a herd of crazy javelinas. It’s the cowgirls from the Domino Spur Ranch.
The cowgirls raise churro sheep and habanero peppers, but mostly they raise hell, and cure their toothaches with frog fat and cotton wads.
Every few months, they get bored and ride five miles across the desert to party with Blue Corn Woman bringing with them their desert elixirs, guitars, poetry, and their game of Mexican dominoes. After two or three days, they ride back to the ranch where they do more of the same, drink cactus wine and recite sexy cowgirl poetry to each other while they play dominoes.
Being independent is a whole lot of things to the cowgirls and they polish the pawn at the Blue Corn Trading Post with their flirtatious sass and confess their dusty desires for each other at the half-moon peyote altar at sunset.
There is one more cowgirl than usual making her number nine. Blue Corn Woman looks at number nine’s footwear before looking at her face. She wears the biggest Chilean spurs Blue Corn Woman has ever seen. They are six inches around and she counts twenty-four points before the dust settles. She wears high-shanked boots with fringed leggings which buckled over the knee with thunderbird conchos attached, again the thunderbird conchos stare Blue Corn Woman in the crotch, and her erect, blue-tattooed nipples salute Blue Corn Woman just before the Latino cowgirl salutes her with her flat-brimmed, black velvet sombrero, the Cordoban style worn by a Chilean rodeo queen riding in a high-wheeled oxcart.
Who this beauty is, Blue Corn Woman does not know, but she knows she has a fiery spirit just like Devi when she backed her mare up and painted a figure-eight out of hoofs. “Tequila!” the Latino woman yells and the cowgirls dismount, handing their reins to the cowgirls who have no guitar, then grab their guitars and strum to the tune of Tequila.
Blue Corn Woman claps quite sure they have just asked for it, so she goes inside for a mescal minute and comes back out with their thirsty request. She tosses a bottle of Tequila to the Latino cowgirl, and then fondles the thunderbird concho in her jean pocket where she has kept it since finding it yesterday.
“You were here,” Blue Corn Woman says.
“Yesterday,” the Latino cowgirl answers.
“Why?” Blue Corn Woman asks.
“That is not for me to say,” the Latino cowgirl answers.