The town was in uproar; the meeting in the church was proving difficult to contain. It was understandable. Jed Mecurio was out. He and his gang would make for the town like a fly to muck, there was no doubt in anybody’s mind – anybody except the minister of course. Padre Johnson always wanted to look for the good in people, perhaps the spell in prison will have helped Jed see the error of his ways? Even his wife – a comely woman who had never met Mr Mecurio but ‘knew the type’ - even she knew that the purpose of prison was not to reform people so they might live a better, more honest life. Prison was to keep the dregs out of the way so good honest people could go their way and cheat the government of taxes, their fellow townsfolk of money, and live hypocritically Christian lives in peace. She had told her husband all of that this morning, though not in quite those words, and not mentioning hypocritical Christians to forthrightly. She wasn’t at the town meeting of course, only the men were there. The women – the most respectable ones – were having tea in Mrs Miniver’s Tea House and hoping the men would be more organised and sensible than usual. If all the men stood up and defended their town, they would be okay. But, in their hearts, they already knew that would not happen.

Hadleyville had been a cross roads; it had been a useful watering hole. An artesian well made it a safe and regular stop and so a small community began to build up. When Jed and his gang rode in, there was little enough to see; but they drank in the saloon without paying, took advantage of Ma Blackett (though some suggested, quietly, that she had not fought back enough) and generally disrupted the growth of the town. At first James L Hadley – the rancher after whom the town was now named – had ignored the problem, telling his wife and family to steer clear of the settlement; but things came to a head, and he stood up for decency. A telegraph was sent for a marshal; but that would take too long, so he organised one or two others and they confronted the gang.

When it was all over, Hadley had the use of one arm and a broken spine; Mecurio and his gang were secured for the arrival of the marshal. Some hot heads would have simply strung them up; tough rough justice; these hot heads had been noticeable by their absence when the fighting was on. More considered opinions prevailed, the marshal found five men tied in the stables (and smelling rather ripe). He took them to the state capital where they were tried and found guilty. Everybody felt suitably good about themselves. The gang went to San Paloosa Prison for five years hard labour. Jed got seven years for being the leader, but was let out in five ‘for good behaviour’ - his good behaviour being that he had knifed a 210 pound six foot three black man who was leading a prison revolt. Jed knifed him because he was black and he (Jed) hated blacks, he knifed him because Samson had already told him that Jed was going to be skinned alive and left to dry in the sun, he knifed him because he was a violent psychopath who got a lot of pleasure in seeing the pain in Samson’s eyes as his balls were sliced open (Samson was trying to hold his innards inside his body at that moment). But the prison governor (who Samson had trussed up, ready for later, slower punishment) chose to be grateful anyway and the state governor granted an early release.

But perhaps the Mecurio gang would not come back? He had stated, categorically and emphatically, at the trial that he would get his revenge on Hadley and the town. Perhaps, the padre said, since Hadley had passed away, Mecurio would be content with that knowledge. “Now Padre, I know you want to see the best in people; but Jed Mecurio is not ‘people’. He was a nasty piece of work then and I’m guessing that 5 years in prison will not have moderated his temper. When he finds Mr Hadley is dead, he will want even more revenge on the town.”

“But we weren’t even here then!” protested Mr Guinness (“Guinness Agricultural Supplies” - there were several small holdings nearby now, a town cannot live on beef and tinned beans alone). He was assured that such niceties would not affect Mr Mecurio’s attitude.

Was there time to get another marshal? Probably not, the Mecurio gang would probably arrive in three days. Anyway, the range war in the north of the state was taking up all the resources of the law agencies. There would be nobody to spare. They had to deal with this themselves. Someone suggested that they all arm themselves and fight the gang. Others agreed, vacillated, temporised; if they fought, at least some would likely die. No-one was that keen to die for the others of the town.

“We need a hero.” was the general conclusion. Uproar ensued once more. There was no time to get a gunman in from elsewhere. The mayor of the ‘City of Hadleyville population 781 and rising!’ was thinking of resigning and clearing out.

“What would the pay be?” asked a stranger’s voice. Or rather the voice of someone who had only recently returned. Tecks was a little over five foot ten, dressed in black. He had returned to his home town three days ago, ostensibly to settle down. Actually he was on the run. He had robbed the Blantire Express stagecoach, coming away with the grand total of twenty three dollars. His information had been faulty, the gold was transported two days later but by that time he had crossed the state line, pursued by troopers. He had returned to this home town because he knew the countryside; he knew the caves, the gullies, the Indian tracks. He would not be caught if they tracked him here, but actually his trail had gone cold and since the robbery was twenty three dollars, everybody went home and forgot about him. “What would the pay be?” He needed a job.

“Well, I guess - “ a price was named; it was low considering they wanted one man to go up against the Mecurio gang. Tecks laughed. His real name was Teckam, shortened to Tecks, which would become Tex in time again. Since the town was in Arizona, that would confuse a good many people. “But I guess we could negotiate? We’d put you up in the hotel free of charge? All meals? And reasonal drink?” The mayor meant reasonable, he never realised how many words he got wrong.

Tecks smiled. “Gentleman, your ladies, your wives, your daughters, even your mothers, are at grave risk are they not? By what I’ve heard, there will be little left of your town when Jed Mecurio and his thugs have finished. Now is not the time to penny-pinch.” The mention of wives and daughters changed the perspective in more ways than expected.

It wasn’t clear to the padre how even he had agreed to all the terms at the end. All the respectable men (and the not so respectable ones) realised that desperate events call for desperate measures. You have to fight fire with fire, someone suggested. If Tecks succeeded then the price would be worth it, if he failed then the cost would be small compared to what would follow; and anyway the price was only payable on success. So the money was agreed, the board and lodging was thrown in (the town would reimburse the hotel and the saloon – Padre did not really approve of paying the saloon to provide demon drink, but could see this needed imaginative thinking); but that last clause came out of nowhere. No-one wanted to remember who suggested it or why they agreed, but they did. What was certain was that Teckam Smith had not proposed it. And he was only one man, after all.

But it was all written down by the Padre – that payment in dollars was incumbent upon success, that reasonable board and lodging was to be provided until such time as the town was safe, that the board and lodging could continue as long as Mr Teckam Smith was willing to continue that role of officer of the law in the City of Hadleyville, that the other benefits were similarly to be paid for as long as he remained in that role. So he was appointed Sheriff of Hadleyvile. The blacksmith agreed to stamp out a badge that named him thus, and no suggestion was made that he might need or have the power to deputise. If this went horribly wrong, no-one else wanted any evidence that they had been on the sheriff’s side. Two copies were made, the one given to the mayor, who passed it to the bank for safe keeping; the other given to Tecks, who decided to hide it somewhere safe since he suspected that the town could forget their debt to him in time.

He had three days, three days for certain, at most. He actually suspected he had more, but was aware that over-confidence was the route to Boot Hill. He found himself distracted; why did every town seem to have a cemetery over the town somewhere, called ‘Boot Hill’. He invested his own money (twenty three dollars) in some extra security. On the South Road was a small Indian settlement, they kept themselves to themselves, troubled no-one, and were still victimised and overcharged for food when they came to the town – which was rare. They understood the value white men place on ‘dollars’. He agreed fifteen dollars with the chief, paid in advance; if a gang of men was seen riding up that road, an Indian brave would ride hard and fast to warn Tecks in his hideout on the West Road. It was a day’s ride away if you rode slow, but a light Indian pony could do it in much less. It was unlikely that they would come that way, unlikely but just possible. San Paloosa was West-South-West of Hadleyville, it made the West Road the most likely route.

The North Way was rough, steep and mountainous. No sensible gang bent on revenge would come that way. The East Avenue – named because some optimistic townsfolk planted rows of trees along both side for a distance of thirty miles all told – was inaccessible from San Paloosa unless you rode through the town first.

Tecks moved out along the West Road to the bluff. It offered a good view, good coverage and reasonable protection. He laid a buffalo single shot behind some rocks and covered it with a shirt to keep the dust off. Back towards the town, in the rocks, he hid two more longer range carbines. Then he moved to his lookout, laid out his food – bread, cheese, water. And waited.

Two days; two days in which a family came past in a covered wagon – the Englanders, a German family who had set off to make their fortune in the West, failed to find the land paved with gold and were now heading back East. Ursula Englander was a striking fifteen year old German maiden with flaxen hair that reached her waist when she allowed it to be unfurled. Her mother would easily have been Brunnhilde in the Ring Cycle, as chance would have it her name was Hilde – as blonde as her daughter, but large, muscular and powerful. She had kept the family going when her husband lost heart, and she had decided that they should retreat whilst they still could. Ursula could have been a Rhine Maiden luring men to their doom. Her brother, Klaus, was small with a bent back. He hated being so weak amongst such powerful women; their father was a defeated man and would never again seek to be head of the household. They stopped in Hadleyville to recover and replenish, they would still be there when the trouble arrived. Other passers-by were the usual flotsam and jetsam of a western town area. The Hadley ranch had been split up when he died and his three sons each tried to make their own particular success – they were possibly the most at risk from the gathering storm, for they carried the same name as their father. John Hadley had opted to marry the school teacher (or rather he had married an educated lady passing through and she had agreed to become the school ma’am); he lived close to the town at the end of a mile long track. He had the smallest of the farms, but the best soil; and he produced milk cows and cheese rather than beef cows. His two brothers lived further out and each remained unmarried, determined to prove themselves the best of the three before they took a wife and family.

Simeon Hadley was nearest the West Road, and he was visited first by the gang. They had little reason to hesitate. It was not like they wanted to be bought off. Simeon’s men saw no reason to die for their boss, they left him holed up in his cabin as the five gang members surrounded it. The smoke from the cabin on fire provided a useful warning to Tecks that the trouble had arrived. Simeon finally came out when the smoke was too great. He told Jed that he had no part in the original fight, that he held no grudges even now, that his father was dead. He stopped speaking as the bullets in his gut caused blood to flow into his lungs and he slowly drowned in his own red blood. They left him where he lay and rode on.

Simeon’s men had no reason to stay nearby, they opted not to head for the town but to head West, away from trouble.

Tecks found himself joined by David Hadley. “I figure they’ll come for me. I’ll offer a fair fight.” Tecks had no intention of offering a fair fight, but it was up to this man. If he wanted to try and reason with a rattlesnake, that was up to him. Hell, even a rattlesnake would weigh the odds and leave if it saw no possible benefit. David Hadley moved down and hid behind a rock.

“Jed Mecurio! That’s far enough! Now I’ve no beef with you. And you’ve no beef with me. Why not ride on and leave well alone?” From his vantage point, Tecks saw the men fan out. David Hadley was a good man, a foolish man, but a good one. He didn’t want to fight, he thought he should negotiate if he could. The half-Mexican, half-Apache slid sinuously from rock to rock, moving round out of sight of even Tecks. It was a good lesson, this was a man who could hide in the flattest landscape, it seemed. He could be silent.

“David Hadley? Hell, I’ve no argument with you. Show yourself. Look. I put my gun down on this rock, here.” Jed had no reason to keep a handgun in his hand when he was out of range. Hadley stood and stepped out from the boulder. Simultaneously two shots rang out and the man staggered, his liver was ripped to pieces by the lead from one, and his leg had a massive hole from the other ricocheted slug. It had bounced off the rock, misshapen and rotating, and smashed into the flesh, ending up embedded in the bone. The Mexican-Apache leaped forward and administered the coup-de-grace with a slice across his neck. He was in the act of cutting the still-living man’s scalp off when the Springfield Model 1873 took his head clean off. The other men dived for cover and, in typical panic reactions, fired uselessly in the direction the single shot had come from. The sniper was no longer there.

Darkness was falling when two of the four remaining men made it to the eyrie that had provided that first shot. As they jumped down behind the rock, hoping to find a man hiding, a carbine fired twice. Only one of the men fell.

Jed Mecurio heard the horse ride away in the silence. Then he looked at his injured gang member. “We’ll come back. Once we’ve dealt with this bastard, we’ll come back with a wagon for you.” They rode away, and Jed forgot his promise and the man almost immediately. Jed Mecurio had little use for friendship, loyalty or consideration. He was not a man to cross; but he was nearly as bad to those on his own side. The injury meant the gang member would not survive alone.

So there were three men riding in to the small city of Hadleyville. The streets were empty, the people resolved to act like two of the wise monkeys and see and hear no evil in the hope that the evil would not see or hear of them.

He had not reduced the odds as much as he wanted, he had intended to ‘bushwhack’ the gang and kill at least three, David Hadley had undermined that somewhat. Still, it meant he hadn’t had to start the fight; he was still on the side of the angels since the others fired first. Hadley had drawn out that murdering renegade too, that had been useful.

As they rode down towards the cross roads, Tecks raised his Winchester and pumped three bullets into one of the horses. It stumbled and fell, bringing down the rider with it. He was trapped under the horse and a careful, calm aim allowed two more slugs to stop the man struggling any more. The other two jumped for cover. Now he was just outnumbered two to one; but they also knew now that there would be no negotiation, no quarter, nothing except death for him or them (or all three).

A handgun is no light weapon to carry, nor is it particularly reliable. So having two, one in the holster, might help even the odds; particularly since both his opponents had just the regular one each. Cleverness only gets you so far; now was the time for downright unconsidered violence. It was just as well all the town’s people were hiding, it meant that anybody who moved was an enemy.

He ran down the alley between two buildings, bullets chivvied pieces of wood from the corner of the building; so they were coming after him rather than surrounding him. He stopped and turned. As soon as a shape appeared silhouetted in the entrance to the alleyway, Tecks let fly with his pistol. Once, twice, three times. The shape stayed unmoving, leaning on the sidewall. Tecks fired again and the body fell. Tecks fired yet again to be sure. No point in assuming some bastard was dead, only for him to shoot you in the back in a final act of brave despair. He didn’t know it, but that body was Jed Mecurio.

Jed’s last gang member took a leaf from his leader’s book. He had no need to take risks for his dead leader. Whoever this guy was, he had bested Jed. That was enough. The horse took him South and the small Native American settlement sent a message to inform Tecks. “Well, shoot! They could have finished him off.” said the mayor.

“Wasn’t their fight.” was all Tecks said. “Mayor; I guess you would like to set an example to the others? Is the Mayoress available?” The mayor’s wife was ten years his junior. She was still pretty of face, still firm of body, and still relatively under-utilised in the bedroom. The mayor had married her on a whim – she was part of a passing wagon train and he took a shine to the smooth skinned, light brown haired girl who always seemed to be well-dressed. Her bust was not as big as some, but it was presented to good advantage. She had been more than willing to bid her family goodbye, having snared ‘the most important man in the town’. She found the bedroom disappointing. The mayor had married more for the look of the thing than lust. He actually found women’s bodies rather ... disgusting. He wasn’t sure why. He had done his duty on her wedding night, but since then that had been all it had been to him – duty. So it was done few times and far between, and definitely not well.

The clause in the agreement had been explained to some of the womenfolk. Some had been disgusted, some horrified, some unsurprised. In fact, many were unsurprised. Since the arrival of the gang would mean rape and mayhem, the men had agreed that allowing one man access to their women was better than having to watch access by five. At least what Tecks did would be in his room, not in the main street – that was the assumption in any case; which turned out to be true. So, he could have any female in the town, any time. That was the deal. If the city was saved, if the shops were preserved, if the bank kept its money, if the church kept singing their hymns; it was a small price in the scheme of things.

Mrs Zapotera knocked on the door and he told her to come in. Mayor Zapotera had told her that she was to be the first; he had nearly apologised, but thought that beneath him, so he stayed silent. She took a paper knife with her. If he tried anything too bad, he’d regret it. She misjudged her man. “Come in, come in. Let me take your coat and hat. And your boots. And your dress. And your slip.” Soon she had nowhere to hide a knife.

She was barely in the room, and he was undressing her. She had been used to – admittedly pretty bad – foreplay. She had assumed Tecks would kiss her and ... whatever else real men did. But no, he just undressed her insistently until she was naked but for her drawers. Her hands were over her breasts, the paper knife in her reticule was out of reach. He took both her hands and moved them to her sides so he could admire her upper body, then he knelt, undid the bow tying her drawers and pulled them down. She had not been so naked, not once, for her husband. She jerked, half intending to cover her unkempt triangle of curly hair with her hand, then stopped, realising it was all too late now. Pushing her to the bed, she lay on her back and watched him remove all his own clothing. There was an urgency about his actions. He had been on the run before this job had arisen, and being on the run did not allow for nights in bed with a woman.

When he was finally naked, she realised that she would need to be a little more accommodating than with her husband. If her husband was below average, this man was above. Of course her experience was minimal, so whereas the step up from average cock to Tecks’ might have been acceptable, from Mayor Zapotera to Tecks seemed quite a major leap. And there was no delay, no time to think ‘maybe it won’t be so bad’. He was on her and feeling for her entrance. She felt the fingers open her, then the firm flesh push in. He didn’t wait to let her get used to it. He was already in a third, a half, three quarters. All in! He was already grunting.

She lay back, feeling unsurprisingly distant from the events happening to her physical body. She had got used to her husband doing his duty intermittently and unenthusiastically. He had once actually called out a boy’s name in the middle of his coitus; but she thought little about it because she hadn’t been paying attention. If she had, she might have noticed that he liked to squeeze her bottom and ‘accidentally’ stroke her backside hole. He knew he shouldn’t, but he really would have loved to enter it more than the soft slit he was meant to use. This man on top of her had fewer inhibitions about what to touch, squeeze, pinch, kiss, hold, or stroke. He had already let a finger enter her rear end, it was not something she encouraged, but then she had little choice in what he did. Now he was using her bosoms to give himself more leverage in ramming as deep as he could. She realised that she was finding this rather refreshing. It reminded her of when she and her brother had gone skinny dipping once. The deep pool was freezing in comparison to the air temperature and it had been like being woken from a drowse with a bucket of iced water. Tecks’ attitude to sex was similar. Unlike the slow, languid, not to say down-right boring, sex from her small-pricked husband forcing himself to deliver her of a mediocre spurt of spunk; this man on top of her was rough, nearly violent in his urgency. Her dry vagina had objected to his forced entry and she had felt the friction like being dragged naked over a sandy creek. But now she was finding that she was making lubrication. He was sliding in and out easier (and still appeared to want to get deeper), ‘oh my’ she thought ‘I’m not enjoying being ravished by this stranger am I?’ Well, not exactly, she wasn’t enjoying the physical bouncing on her, the bruises that would appear on her over-squeezed tits, but she was enjoying being the cause for someone’s enthusiastic entrance.

“AHHH!!!!!!” he thrust a couple more times, and then flopped onto her. Well, that, at least, was similar to Mr Zapotera’s finale. He always cried out – more in relief at finally ending the charade – and flopped on her. She found herself smiling, he saw and smiled back “Thank you. I hope I didn’t hurt you? I was in need of urgent relief.”

“Any mattress will do? Perhaps we need to allow the brothel on the edge of town after all.” The women had seen to it that it had been refused when they had applied; but she suspected that they could just build outside the city limits and would get plenty of trade. “Now, if you’ll let me up, I shall clean myself.” But to her surprise he sat up with her, and told her to wash him first. Using the wet cloth on his stick prick had just the effect that she had never expected, never suspected as even possible. “Oh? But you must be all used up? Surely you cannot?” But he could; she found herself once more on her back but her legs were put on his shoulders. Each thrust forced her body to concertina and her cunt to grip him. It was little enough, but it was a position she had not expected, and she found the gripping cunt gave her little thrills.

“Now, masturbate yourself please. I need a rest, but I like to hear a woman climaxing.” She looked at him. Truly? He was expecting her, a respectable wife, to put on a show for him like some brothel-humping prostitute. He nodded. Anyway, she asked as she began, how did he know women could enjoy sex? Most men assumed sex was solely for the man. “Just lucky in my education I suppose.” He could have fingered her to a very acceptable sexual climax, but he rather enjoyed watching a woman’s long slender fingers sliding up and down amongst the glistening folds and hairs of her leaking snatch. He wondered if he might manage a third? No, it appeared not, not yet anyway.

He decided that he would enjoy being on the side of law and order for a while, as he escorted the young lady back to the mayor’s house. “Thank you sir, that was something I would not be averse to repeating; once you have worked your way through the other young women of the town.” she said.

“City, ma’am, surely? We are a city are we not?”

“Indeed. Good Evening.”

He walked back with a spring in his step. Next time they could stay the night.

The following day, he found there actually were activities a sheriff had to engage in. Two young men had got drunk in the saloon and proceeded to lie on the sidewalk and ask women to step over them. They were looking up, or attempting to, the ladies’ dresses. There was no gaol, so the stables was used once again. Tied into a stall, they were washed down four times over the day. By the evening they were wet, sober, and very sorry for themselves. Since none of the women wished to make an official complaint, they were set free. Tecks told the mayor they needed a jail. “We do, we do. I guess a city needs a house of correction. Leave it with me son.” Mayor Zapotera was surprisingly cheerful considering his wife had just had sex quite publicly with another man. Zapotera didn’t mind, it let him off the hook; like his wife, he was hoping Tecks might do it again soon enough.

The next respectable lady to grace his bed appeared around the corner accompanied by her husband. “Why Padre Johnson, so good to see you,” the mayor greeted the couple “and Mrs Johnson looking radiant. Is she not Mr Smith? Nice enough to eat in fact.”

The padre was aware of where Mrs Zapotera had just been, the whole town was. He was also aware that Mayor Zapotera was deliberately drawing Tecks’ attention to the attractions of the padre’s wife. Padre Johnson was tall, lean and not un-handsome. When Emily Sandhurst-Bracewaite had met him at the bible school, she had been smitten. She was the younger sister of Josiah Sandhurst-Bracewaite, and since that made her thirteen at the time, Mr Johnson barely gave her the time of day. But Emily ensured that her brother kept in touch with the handsome reverend. When Johnson qualified, he was destined for great things, he took the associate padre-ship at the First Holy Presbyterian and Unitarian, Bangor, Mass. He was well received, and a handsome young padre always helps keep the young females of the flock interested. It was unfortunate that May Blanchard was found alone with him in the vestry. Nothing had happened, but it was a mark against him. When Ms Blanchard fell pregnant and had to marry Laurence VanDeBilt, it was felt that Padre Johnson was not a good judge of character. Somehow the guilt by association meant that his career in the East was truncated. He proposed to the young Miss Sandhurst-Bracewaite and she accepted before realising that his intention was to make a new life in the West.

Marry in haste, repent at leisure, as she told herself. He was actually an acutely boring conversationalist, a moderately boring husband, and an unexciting lover. She wore (at his insistence) high neck, respectable dresses that revealed nothing of the curves and delights of the flesh beneath.

Tecks simply looked at them both. “Perhaps, sir; it is a little late to make for society visits? Might you wife call in the morning?” The padre looked from Tecks to his wife and back. Could he refuse? He was a signatory to that agreement. What could he say to those who broke their word if he broke his. He nodded. Emily Johnson had not been made aware of the agreement, not all women had. Some men hoped it would all blow over, or all the men would be injured and the good honest burgers of the city could finish them off, no harm done.

Back in the manse, Enoch Johnson explained, so an increasingly incredulous Emily. “Now my dear! There is no need for you to take on so! Please put down mother’s porcelain bowl. [crash!] Mrs Johnson! I insist you obey me in this.” he knew he was in the wrong, yet he now was defending this deal rather than back out of it. Better her reputation was sullied than his. “Emily!”

“Very well, Enoch Johnson. I shall oblige you by obeying your command. I shall sleep in the spare room tonight and every night until the sheriff leaves.” and with that she slammed the door hard. Emmy-Lou, the live-in servant heard every word. She was hoping that she might get called to give her all to Tecks Smith ... or Enoch Johnson, she wasn’t fussy. She buried her face in her pillow to hide the laughter erupting from her.