Dome's Early Light
Caution: This Western Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Western, Science Fiction, Time Travel, Violent,
Desc: Western Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Bart McSwain was driving through Cheyenne, Wyo., one morning when he was catapulted back to the Cheyenne of the 1880s. Not only that, he landed in the middle of a bank robbery. Only his guns and the clothes he was wearing made the trip through time with him. This is the story of how he survived and became one of the leading citizens of Old Cheyenne. 11 chapters. This story was suggested by a reader who liked my time-travel Westerns.
It was about 10:00 AM when I drove past the Wyoming capital building. I was headed for the Cowboy Shootout Exhibition, but I wondered if we would have much of a crowd, what with all of the clouds and rain we were getting. The lightning show was spectacular all that morning, and I wondered where the next strike would hit. Well, I found out the hard way!
I had just driven past the capital building when a bolt of lightning struck that must have set records. As nearly as I can figure, the bolt hit the capital dome and reflected in my direction. It must have struck me, or my pickup, that is, because I was suddenly no longer in downtown Cheyenne in June of 2111. The truck practically exploded under me, and parts went flying everywhere. Except for bits and pieces of sheet metal and plastic, it was impossible to tell that it had been a standard 2110 Ram.
I don’t understand it, but I was totally unhurt by the episode. The only other thing to survive the demolition of my truck was my safe of guns and ammunition. I was already wearing my costume of old-time cowboy duds, and that included my pistol, a Starr DA converted to .38 caliber metallic cartridges. Yeah, that was a light caliber, but I used hollow-point ammunition, so I had pretty much the stopping power of the .44 ammunition that used black powder. It never made a difference before, and I’d had no reason to regret the choice up until now.
In my safe were my sawed-off shotgun that I had custom made for me. It was in 10-gauge and was semi-automatic. I had it configured with a 10-round box magazine that greatly simplified my reloading when I was doing my exhibition shooting.
The safe also contained almost a thousand shells of #00 buckshot and 500 rounds of pistol ammunition. I had just stocked up for the season and had not had an opportunity to use any of it. The four shotgun magazines were loaded with the home-made “buck and ball” style of shells that I preferred for my exhibitions, but more on that later.
The really crazy thing about my “accident” was that I was lying in the middle of a dung-filled dirt street, and there were live bullets flying over my head. For a moment, I had thought that I had interrupted a movie filming, but thoughts of that quickly faded when I saw one man have most of his head removed by a shotgun blast. Either that was the most realistic shotgun hit ever filmed, or it really was a man being killed by real bullets.
I looked around and saw that my only cover was going to be my gun safe. It had already been struck by several bullets, and too damned many were coming close to me. With no obvious choice in the matter, I squirmed over to get behind my gun safe and reached for the key to open it. Only a moment later, I was armed with my favorite weapon, the sawed-off shotgun, and I quickly attached a magazine and racked in a shell. I didn’t know for sure what was going on, but the next bastard to throw a bullet my way was going to get a response in kind.
My wait was short because a galoot popped up from behind a watering trough and fired a shot in my direction. He was too slow dropping back behind his protection, and I let him have it with one of my special buck and ball rounds. He had managed to duck back a little, but he was so close to me that three of my #00 buckshot took off the top of his head and the load of buckshot in the “ball” ripped away most of the watering trough wall in front of his face. I guess it is needless to say that he was out of the fight. Damned if I didn’t get a cheer from some of the people who saw me shoot.
That was certainly all of the encouragement I needed because I saw the flash of light off a marshal’s badge from one of the men cheering. I figured that I was on the correct side of whatever was going on, so I looked around for another target.
There had been a man holding four horses at the edge of the street, and this was when he decided that he had an urgent appointment elsewhere. He dropped the reins of three of the horses and mounted the fourth with a single bound. He could have had a job in Hollywood for that if he had been in a better time and place. He was now towering above me and aimed his pistol in my direction. This was no time to fool around, so I fired a blast into his chest.
When that “ball” of buckshot hit him, it split into seven segments and blew a gaping hole in his chest. He was not firmly seated in the saddle at this time, and the close-in shot lifted him over the horse’s tail onto the dirt. I should note that my shells were using smokeless powder, so I did not have to worry about a plume of smoke blocking my vision. On the other hand, everyone else was bothered by that problem. Nevertheless, bullets were flying in every direction as if nobody wanted to be left out of the game, even if he had no clear target.
Indications were that there were two men left in what I had finally figured out was a bank robbery. At this point, there were some shots coming from what had to be the bank, but the intensity of the shooting was way down from what it had been only minutes earlier. Desultory shooting continued like this for about 10 more minutes, but I held my fire because I had no clear target, and I did not want to hit an innocent bystander by accident.
I was waiting for inspiration when I was joined by the town marshal. “Howdy, Mister. That was some fine shooting with that there cannon that you are carrying. My name is Jed Brady, and I want to welcome you to our fair community of Cheyenne, Wyoming.”
“Thank you, Marshal Brady. I am Bart McSwain, and I am pleased to be of help. Please tell me what is going on.”
“Four galoots came into town about half an hour ago, and two wandered into the bank. I was a little suspicious at the time, but I did not do anything. Before I could come to a decision on what to do, there were some shots from the bank, and those two you killed started firing at anything that moved. A minute or two later, bullets started to come from the bank, and you know pretty well what happened then.”
“Okay, I understand, now. What are your plans for capturing the last two of the bandits?”
“Dammit, I do not know. I was hoping that you might have some suggestions.”
Uh-oh, now I was hooked. I had been in the latest dust up in Yemen with the Army, so I did have some training in urban warfare, which this certainly was.
“It looks like it is up to me to take care of the last two bandits. The bank must have a back entrance, so I can go in that way. What I really need is a layout of the bank.”
“The bank ain’t much inside. There is an office in the back for the owner/manager. That’s where the safe is kept. A counter runs down the center of the rest of the room with the bank employees on the right side and the customers on the left. There ain’t much else in there.”
“Okay, I will try to get in from the rear. Warn all of your people that I will be inside and not to shoot at what they see moving. I will let you know when I am ready to come out. Your people should only shoot at anybody who tries to leave before I give my signal. Is that agreeable?”
“Hell, that sounds fine to me. You just be careful, yourself. We do not want the hero of the day getting himself shot.”
I laughed at that comment and pulled the other three magazines from the safe. I reloaded the magazine that I was using and was ready to go. I also filled my cartridge pouch with pistol ammunition, but I did not expect to use any of it. I had to wait another five or so minutes for the marshal to talk to the other men who were shooting at the bank, but finally, it was time to go.
I backed away from my gun safe, making sure that it stayed between me and the shooters in the bank. Once I was back far enough, I ducked down an alley and ran to the back of the bank building. It was easy to spot because it was the only brick building for blocks.
I found the back door and tried to open it. Dammit, it was locked. Okay, now what? I agonized over the situation for a few seconds and decided to break in. The bad guys were going to know that I was there pretty soon, anyhow, so there did not seem too much advantage to being subtle. I broke a glass pane in the door and reached in for the lock. Fortunately, it was easy to find and easy to open.
I bent low as I pushed the door open and went through. What I didn’t expect was to find myself in the manager’s office. I hoped that there were no more surprises when I went into the rest of the bank. A man was lying on the floor with a bullet hole in his left leg. This must have been the manager. I noticed that there was a derringer lying on the floor out of reach, and the weapon had been fired. At least, the man had tried to put up a fight, so I could not blame him too much. He had just made a lousy choice in his weapons.
The man was still alive, but he was in considerable pain. He did understand me when I told him why I was there, so that part of the job was covered. Later, if I were successful, I would talk to him about a reward.
I went to the door into the rest of the bank, and, in doing so, noticed that the safe was open and empty. That had to mean that the bandits were close to cleaning out the bank’s cash supply. I was sure that would mean that the town would be out of cash if the bandits got away. Dammit, now I was really determined to see this through.
There was glass in this door, but it was frosted, so I could not see anything of what was going on in the rest of the bank. The door opened out from my point of view. I didn’t have an opinion on how much good that was going to do me, but I had to live with the situation, so I just soldiered on.
I got as close to the floor and behind the solid partition as I could before I reached up to turn the knob and push the door open. On purpose, I did not push very hard because I didn’t want the opening door to attract any more attention than necessary. I got the door opened all of the way without attracting the attention of either of the bandits. I could see three male bodies lying on the floor on my side of the counter, and they were surely dead, judging from the positions they were in.
There was a half-door through the counter very near to me, and it was wide open. Neither bandit was paying any attention to what was going on behind them: they were concentrating on what was happening in the street out front. One of them said, “It is damned quiet out there, Joe. What do you think is going on?”
“I have no idea, but I would bet that it does not mean well for us. It is a cinch that we cannot stay here much longer because we have no water. If we rush out the front, we sure as hell are dead men.”
“Yeah, but if we go out the back, we will have to find horses. Not only that, this here gold is too damned heavy for us to carry while we run and shoot. Dammit, why has this day turned out so bad for us?”
“I do not know the answer to that, but we will have to do our best. Split it up into two shares while I keep a lookout for something out front. Just hurry up.”
I used that distraction to crawl far enough to have a good line on both men. I pulled my shotgun to the ready position and said, “You two men are under arrest. Drop your guns, or I will shoot.” Well, I didn’t really expect that either man was going to drop his gun, but I felt that I had to give them the chance.
Both men jerked around to face me and pointed their guns in my direction. At this point, that gave me no options, I fired off two shots as fast as my shotgun could cycle. The first man was hit in the gut and the other man was hit high in the chest. The difference was moot, since both men were now as dead as they were likely to get. I did check to be certain before I relaxed, but there was no chance that either man would ever move again under his own volition.
I went to the door and yelled, “MARSHAL, ALL OF THE BANDITS ARE DEAD, BUT THE BANK MANAGER NEEDS A DOCTOR! IT IS NOW SAFE TO COME IN.”
The marshal showed up a few moments later with another man whom I assumed was a doctor. I waved them into the manager’s office while I searched the two bandits. I found a total of just over $27,000 in a cloth sack, and about $20 in silver in the pockets of the bandits. As a precaution, I dropped that money into my pocket, since I knew that I had no current money.
I went into the manager’s office and was introduced to the manager and the doctor as the man who had saved the day. I did admit that the other men being there did a lot to make it possible for me to do my thing, but I made sure that I said nothing to dilute my credit. I was already aware that I was no longer in my old time, and I had better start feathering my nest before I was preempted.
I had read enough Western novels to know what bounty hunting was, so I quickly jumped onto that bandwagon. I pretended to be a bounty hunter and asked the marshal, “Marshal Brady, I have lost all of my wanted posters. I would like to be the one who collects the reward for capturing these galoots if they are on wanted posters. May I go through your stack to see if any of them are worth anything to Wyoming?”
“Sure thing, Mr. McSwain. I will be happy to help you look. Cheyenne owes you a lot for your efforts today, and we all want you to get what you deserve. While you are about it, take what you want from the bodies of them four galoots. One of the four had to have a shotgun because of what happened to Luke Shippton, and you can have that if you want it. I guess that you can also have their horses and tack. That ought to be worth something.”
“Was Luke Shippton married? I would hate to leave his wife and family with nothing.”
“No, Shippton was a drunk that nobody would claim. I did not even know that he was with us until after he was shot. Just forget about him. Two-bits with get him a grave, and that is about all he deserves.”
“Also, do not worry about the three dead bank employees. The bank will take care of them.”
By this time, a buckboard had shown up to transport the manager to his home, and the doctor rode along with him. Before we got outside, the undertaker showed up with a wagon to haul the bodies away. The marshal sent the dead bank employees away first while we checked out the two dead bandits in front of the bank. I picked up $17 in silver from them, plus their horses, tack, and some other stuff.
I took the horses, etc., to the nearest livery stable recommended by the marshal while he loaded the four bodies onto the undertaker’s wagon. My safe was also loaded onto the wagon, and the whole business was taken by the jail. There, my safe was stored in one of the two cells for safe keeping, and the marshal started looking through the wanted posters. Dammit, but I was lucky! All four men were wanted in Wyoming, and the total came to $95. I found out that this was 1881, and $95 was a lot of money at that time.
All told, I picked up a horse and tack, plus a total of $154 from what I sold at the livery stable. On top of that, the bank manager gave me a reward of $100 for saving the bank’s money. Oh, Man, with a little care, I could live for about nine months on that much money.
That evening, two members of the Cheyenne Social Club took me there for dinner, and I must say that the food was excellent, as were the other services offered by the establishment. Unfortunately, I didn’t have nearly enough money to purchase a membership nor to stay there beyond that one night.