Beauregard Duvahl, a Southern Gentleman
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2010 by aubie56

Western Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Beauregard DuVahl was one of the last Confederate soldiers to return to his home in South Alabama. By this time, his home, his fiancee, indeed, his whole former life was lost. On the advice of a friend, Beau travels to the fabled West where he becomes a bounty hunter until he finds something better, and then he finds something even better than that. This is the story of how Beau recovers from a personal disaster.

Caution: This Western Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Historical   Humor   Slow   Violent  

Ex-Capt. Beauregard DuVahl was excessively pissed! His horse had given out on him, and he was still 10 miles from his home plantation. Dammit! Well, the poor beast had not had a decent meal in weeks, except what he could crop from the winter vegetation that they had been passing through. Beau, as his friends called him, was from Southeastrn Alabama, and he had been in Northern Virginia when the War of Northern Aggression ended, though most Southerners just called it "the War." However, there was no doubt that you could hear the capitalized "W" when they said it.

Beau was running so late getting home because he had been detailed by the Damyankees to help them demobilize the Confederate troops and get them sent home as soon as possible. Beau was being imposed on, and he knew it, but there was nothing that he could do about it, and he did feel some responsibility for the Confederate troops who were suddenly turned out in a hostile land—hostile because it was occupied militarily by the Damyankees.

Capt. Beauregard DuVahl of the 17th Alabama Light Cavalary was distinguished because of his college education. He was one of the first graduates of the East Alabama Male College (Methodist), Auburn, Alabama. In fact, he had graduated just in time to enter the Confederate Army after only a few days at home. His family had planned a big wedding for Beau and his fiancee for the fall of 1861, but, of course, it had never happened. One of the reasons that Beau was in such a hurry to get home was because Emily had promised to wait for him.

Beau was an imposing figure. He was 5'-11" tall and weighed in at 167 pounds. He would weigh about 20 more pounds as soon as he could get back to a normal diet, food had been kind of sparse toward the end of the War. His very dark hair, almost black, and green eyes went very well with his otherwise regular features. Beau could always count on turning the head of any woman he decided to smile upon. Beau was faithful to Emily, but he did smile a lot when he was around a beautiful woman.

As was usual with the Damyankees, they had let him keep his personal arms. In this case, Beau was armed with two LeMat standard issue pistols. They were a nominal .44 caliber 9-shot revolvers with an 18-gauge shotgun barrel mounted just below the regular bullet barrel. The revolvers had initially been .42 caliber, but they were enlarged slightly so that they would accept the regular US Army ammunition in .44 caliber when Confederate supplies began running short. These revolvers were the conventional cap and ball with loose powder type of weapon that everybody had by then. Beau also had two extra cylinders, so he was able to reload in a very short time.

He expended one of his bullets in putting his horse out of its misery, but he immediately reloaded—a habit he had picked up very early in the War. Of course, the Damyankees did not practice scalping their enemies, but the routine of reloading immediately was known among the troops as a way to "keep your hair."

Now Beau had a decision to make. There was more stuff packed on his horse than he could carry, but he didn't know how long he would have to wait for a ride to show up. He had seen almost nobody on the road that day, so he was taking a gamble by waiting. However, Beau's optimism paid off in less than an hour.

Beau spied an elderly man headed his way and in the direction Beau wanted to go. The man was driving a farm wagon pulled by a mule only a little bit better off than the horse that Beau had just shot. Beau stepped out into the road when the man got close and held up both hands to show that he was no threat. Despite that show of good intentions, the man still pulled a musketoon and pointed it at Beau.

Well, this was an unexpected greeting, but Beau recognized the elderly man as John Ward, the owner of a neighboring plantation. "Howdy, Mr. Ward? I guess you don't recognize me. I'm Beauregard DuVahl, your neighbor. I'm just headed back from the War."

"Well, glory be! Howdy, Beau? I thought ya was dead! So many of the men who went away ta fight was killed that we'uns what was left behind just give up hope of ever seein' y'all again."

"Well, I am glad to report that I made it back. My horse just died on me, and I wonder if I can get a ride with you as far as you are going toward my home?"

"Ya sure kin, Beau, but ya won't find nothin' there when ya get to Pecan Place. Some Damyankee marauders set fire ta it 'bout six months ago and burned down everythin' what was standin'. Ya ma died 'bout two years ago an' ya pa didn't last long after her. Everybody thought the place was abandoned, and some Carpetbagger has laid claim ta it, now."

John Ward could see how upset Beau was at this news and tried to calm him down. "Beau, ya gotta remember that we all figured that ya was dead. I kin tell by yer looks that ya're plannin' ta shoot more than one man over this, but I'll caution ya ta think it over afore ya start shootin'."

Beau breathed out a mighty sigh and said, "OK, you're right, Mr. Ward. I can't go around shooting people just because I'm upset and mad. I'll do it your way.

"Can you tell me what happened to Emily Hanson? You know that we were betrothed just before I left for the Army. Do you know where I can find her?"

"I'm afeared not, Beau. She married some gov'ment man 'bout 18 months after ya left. She went off with him, and we ain't never heard from her since then."

"Shit, Mr. Ward! What am I going to do? Suddenly, I have nothing to live for. I feel like I might as well shoot myself right now, and save myself a lot of grief!"

"Well, Son, I don't know fer sure what ta tell ya. I will say this, though. Ya're still a young man, soz ya gots yer whole life ahead of ya. Ya gots ta be both smart an' lucky ta live through the War. I'd hate ta see ya waste that just 'cause ya're sad and disappointed right now.

"There ain't nothin' much around here fer ya, but there's a whole world out there just waitin' fer a smart an' lucky man ta come along an' make somethin' of hisself ifen he just sets his mind ta it. Ifen I was in yer shoes, Son, I'd think real hard 'bout headin' West. This here country is pretty much burned out, both physically an' emotionally. It'll be years afore it works itself back ta bein' a land of opportunity. Ya ought ta go where good thin's is happenin'. Ya needs ta git out of this here cesspool that the Confederacy has become. Go where a man has a chance ta make somethin' of hisself. Well, that's what I have ta say, fer what it's worth."

"Mr. Ward, you have just done me a world of good! I'll take your advice and thank you kindly for it. Ever since I was a little tyke, I knew you for a smart man, but I never gave you the credit you deserved. I wonder if I can stay at your place tonight. Tomorrow, I'll try to find a horse so that I can head West. Is that OK with you?"

"Sure, Son. Ya're welcome ta stay as long as ya need ta, but I do think that ya should git out as soon as ya kin manage it."

The conversation continued in this vein for the next mile or so, then they were interrupted by two men who rode out of the bushes and stopped in front of them. One man grabbed the mule's halter while the other man came up to Mr. Ward. "Old man, we'll just take any money ya got on ya. Ya, too, young fellow. Now, hand it over!"

Beau's immediate thought was that this bandit must either be drunk or stupid. He was so overconfident that he had not even drawn his pistol. That was all of the edge Beau needed. He was wearing his guns in the crossdraw position, so he had no trouble getting his gun drawn from his left holster with his right hand, even though he was sitting down at the time.

He thumbed back the hammer and pulled back on the trigger, all in one motion. The bandit never even moved toward his gun, he was so completely surprised by Beau's maneuver. Beau's LeMat barked just once, but that was enough to eliminate the nearer bandit with a bullet in his chest.

The other bandit could not see what was going on, so he was out of the picture for the moment. Beau took advantage of this to slip off the wagon and race around the mule to put a bullet into the living bandit. He was not so rushed this time, so he was careful to put this bullet into the man's heart. It was as if Beau was still in the Army, he had dispatched the two enemies so quickly and smoothly.

John Ward was speechless at the show Beau had put on. "Beau, that was the most spectacular demonstration of gun handlin' and general solderin' that I ever seen. No wonder you lived through the War. Ya make me proud ta say that I knows a man who kin do that kind of work."

The two men took the time to strip everything of value from the two dead bandits before they dragged the bodies into the bushes and left them for the scavengers. The horses were tied to the back of the wagon, and Ward resumed driving toward his plantation. One of the bandits had a Henry rifle in his possession, and Beau adopted it without hesitation.

While he was reloading his revolver, Beau noticed that the Henry used the same caliber bullets as his revolver. This started him to thinking of the possibility that his LeMat revolvers could be modified to use the same cartridge as the Henry rifle. That would surely speed up the reloading time.

"Mr. Ward, is there a skilled gunsmith nearby? I've been wondering if my revolvers could be modified to use the same cartridges as the Henry rifle uses. They are the same caliber, so it seems to me that it should be possible."

"He ain't so near, but there is a real sharp gunsmith in DeFuniac Springs that might be able ta do the job. Ya might swing by there an' talk ta him 'bout doin' it."

"Thanks, I'll give it a shot. The more I think of it, the more I like the idea."

Three days later, Beau was ready to leave on his journey west. He took one of the horses the two bandits had used. John Ward took the other one. Beau made for DeFuniac Springs to see about getting his LaMats converted to cartridges. The South wasn't exactly overflowing with Henry ammunition, but it was available in the larger towns and cities. The bandit who'd had the Henry was carrying a large supply of ammunition; Beau wondered where it had come from.

Yes, the conversion of the LeMats was feasible and was done in 10 days. Beau fretted a bit about being stuck in the small town for so long, but he finally had his converted revolvers and was ready to leave.

Without any specific plan in mind, Beau headed for Mobile. At the time, he toyed with the idea of taking a coastal packet from Mobile to a port in Texas, but he chose to wait until he got to Mobile before making up his mind. He was in no hurry to get anywhere, so time was not a factor in his plans. It really depended on which would be more interesting, the boat ride or the horseback ride.

His fifth day on the road produced some excitement. He was accosted by a single highwayman who wanted all that Beau had. He was careless when Beau dismounted, so that Beau was able to draw a revolver when his effort was concealed from the bandit. Beau did not hesitate and put a bullet into the bandit's gut, followed by another shot into his chest as fast as Beau could get off the round. The bandit fell to the road and died within moments of hitting the ground.

This bandit supplied Beau with a nice sum of $22 in gold and silver. The bandit was also carrying $17 in US paper money. Beau was not sure just what that was really worth, but money was money, so he kept it. The man also carried a derringer, so Beau dropped that in his boot leg as a hideout gun. Beau looted the body for other valuables before throwing the body into the brush. He saved the horse for later sale.

Beau rode into Mobile with the idea that he would continue to ride West. He decided that the boat ride would just be an unnecessary drain on his resources. Beau found lodging for his horse and himself and settled into enjoying a few days of rest and relaxation in Mobile before he pushed on. The rain was falling every day and it was rather heavy at times, so a break away from the falling water would be welcome.

Beau was not a particularly accomplished poker player, but he quickly found out that poker and women were about the only diversions offered in Mobile that he really cared for. He found a bordello with a good reputation and reasonable prices, so his desire for women was solved. On the other hand, it was damned difficult to find an honest poker game. Beau actually wound up shooting two crooked dealers, so he had trouble finding a table where he was welcomed. Oh, well, he would just push on toward New Orleans as soon as the weather broke.

Fortunately, the worst of the rain was over by the middle of January, so Beau was able to resume his journey. Again, for no particular reason, Beau stuck to roads that took him through the towns that were situated on the Gulf of Mexico. This time of year, the mosquitoes were not a problem, so the trip was quite pleasant, except when it actually rained.

Beau rode into Pascagoula, Mississippi, on a Sunday morning. About half of the town was in church, while the other half of the town was in the multitude of saloons and bordellos. Not being particularly interested in attending church, Beau chose a saloon at random and went in for his first beer of the day.

The saloon seemed like a pleasant enough place, but the peace was soon spoiled by three sailors who stumbled in already drunk. The bellied up to the bar and demanded whiskey. They also demanded that everyone at the bar join them for a whiskey. Beau was not adverse to the occasional strong drink, but he really preferred beer. Unfortunately, the sailors took his refusal of a shot of whiskey as some sort of mortal insult to them, and, by extension, to all sailors.

A few unpleasant words were exchanged, and one of the sailors pulled a knife which he used to threaten Beau. Beau tried to talk the drunken sailor out of doing something completely foolish, but was totally unsuccessful in this endeavor. Finally, the conversation ended with the sailor charging toward Beau while holding the knife as if he knew exactly how to handle it.

Beau had no real alternative, so he calmly drew his gun and shot the sailor in the chest. Unfortunately, this action enraged the two other men, and they charged toward Beau. Again, Beau had no choice. He shot the other two sailors, and they both received fatal wounds. As expected, the other patrons of the saloon ignored the dust up, and the bartender signaled for his swamper to clean up the mess.

Beau did go through the pockets and moneybelts of the sailors, and he came up with $16. Beau gave the swamper six-bits for his efforts, and the largess was duly acknowledged. When he finished his beer, the bartender asked if Beau wanted another. While he was there, he warned Beau to be careful for the rest of the time he stayed in Pascagoula, since these three men were known to consort with a very dangerous gang of hotheads who were not likely to forgive the killing of their friends. Beau thanked him for the warning and declined another beer. Beau decided that he had seen all of Pascagoula that he was interested in, so he prepared to leave.

Beau was out of town before there was any more trouble, but he was not disappointed. There just was not much profit in fighting a gang of toughs who knew what they were about. No matter how good he was with his guns, he might still be killed, and there was no profit in such a waste.

The bayous were so prevalent through this area, that the road swung inland quite a way. The mosquitoes might be reduced by the weather, but the same could not be said for the alligators, and no one in his right mind wanted to argue with one of them! Beau might well have been 50 miles north of the Gulf by the time the road angled back toward Louisiana.

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