It Makes My Ass Want a Dip of Skoal - Cover

It Makes My Ass Want a Dip of Skoal

Copyright© 2010 by cmsix

Chapter 2

Time Travel Sex Story: Chapter 2 - Just a poor East Texas boy whishing he could hitch on for a trip back in time. Damned if he didn't get to.

Caution: This Time Travel Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/ft   Consensual   Reluctant   Heterosexual   Time Travel  

I could tell right away my reply didn't suit the town council's leader.

"If you're still upset about it have the district attorney try to get a warrant for my arrest and lets have a hearing over it." I said.

I figured he'd try because one of those I'd killed had been a cousin of his. I didn't really give a shit myself since I didn't think any of them were related to the district attorney.

I rounded up all the horses and took them back to the livery stable. The stable owner said they all belonged to the Marshal's department so I figured it was just other charges settled since they had obviously been stolen.

It did mean I had a council member against me now though, and it was a little funny since he'd been the one who gave me the job in the first place. Actually, I didn't give a shit one way or another.

Two days later I saw I was going to have trouble over the council. They refused to hire the deputy I selected and so I had no help at all.

I did the only thing I knew to do, as in, I went over to the bank, where I was still the star of the show and told the president of the thing I wouldn't be able to give them the good protection I had been providing any longer since the town council refused to hire any deputies for me. I might have mentioned the same thing to a couple of other business owners, but I can't really remember now.

One thing that tickled me was when a saloon owner got into it with Mr. Jordan, the council president. I was watching the whole thing and the Saloon owner got mad and knocked fire from Mr. Jordan's ass. In fact he broke his nose.

Of course Mr. Jordan came running up to me hollering for me to arrest the saloon owner and I had to tell him I'd seen the whole thing and didn't see any reason to arrest the man.

I've never had such a cussing in my life, but I just stood there and took it. Of course this made Mr. Jordan madder and madder and finally he went for the pistol at his side. He was slow as molasses and I drew mine and hit his gun hand right on the thumb with my revolver as he tried to draw. It broke the shit out of his thumb and I wasn't careful when I cuffed his hands behind his back and marched him into the jail.

I charged him with attempted murder of course and locked him in the cell with two mean drunks I'd earlier rounded up in the biggest saloon.

Of course they beat the ever-loving shit out of Mr. Jordan and his broken nose was the least of his problems.

Six hours later a lawyer came into the jail wanting to bail Mr. Jordan out. When he asked me how much I told him to see the judge. He then asked me if he could be released on the lawyer's personal accountability.

"I don't mind that at all, but remember you are responsible for his good behavior if I do. You do realize he's in here for attempting to shoot a duly constituted officer of the law, don't you?" I asked.

He said he did and told me he'd take full responsibility. Hell, I let the fool out and let him leave with his lawyer. What I didn't do was let him have his revolver when I turned him loose.

It didn't make a shit either way. Mr. Jordan had blood in his eye now and I sat out on the boardwalk and watched him go straight to the General Store and come back out again with a new revolver on his hip.

He fooled me then, but I wasn't mad about it. He marched straight toward me and I'd no sooner stood up than he told me to draw or die.

I didn't move until he got so mad he drew on me again. Well, he drew at me anyway and I shot him in the center of his chest this time and when he hit the ground I knew there would be no need to arrest him again.

I walked directly to his lawyer's office though. Somebody was damned sure going to get arrested over this and the lawyer had said he understood he was responsible for Mr. Jordan when I let him out.

I felt a little sorry for the slim male secretary when I entered the office since I didn't pay him any attention as I walked back to the lawyer's office.

The lawyer was surprised when I walked in with my revolver already out and pointed his way.

"Your client, who you swore would be on his best behavior, just tried to shoot me again. He's dead now so he's no further worry to me, but you are under arrest for not maintaining proper oversight on his actions," I said.

"You can't arrest me for that," he said.

"Well, I can kill you for it if you're resisting arrest," I said, and eared back the hammer on my Ruger.

His hands shot for the ceiling then and he told me of course he wasn't resisting. I cuffed his hands behind his back and frog marched him out of his office.

"Next time I've got someone in my jail you'd better make sure you leave them there. I can find a way to kill you and make it look legal enough, and you'll still be dead, just like Mr. Jordan. Do we understand each other?" I asked.

"We certainly do, Marshal. I can see now if I'd left well enough alone Mr. Jordan would probably still be alive," he said.

I gave the lawyer a break and put him in a cell by himself. I only kept him for a couple of hours and I figured by that time he had a better understanding of our relationship. He seemed to appreciate it when I turned him loose.

Apparently the word had got around to all the town councilmen by now and they sent word for me to hire as many as six deputies of my own choosing. I hired Billy Scoggins, the one I'd intended to hire in the first place and told him his duty station was in the chair on the boardwalk with a Greener by his side and a Henry in his hands.

I also hired Bubba Johnston. Bubba was six foot four and weighed about a biscuit shy of three hundred pounds. I told him his job was to check in at the saloons every hour at night and to make sure no one was getting too rowdy.

"I don't mean for you to go in shooting up the places either. You're big enough to get your point across with a good stout club. If someone pulls a gun on you get your ass out of there and come get me, or Billy."

Hell, I knew already Bubba wasn't worth a shit with a pistol and he'd end up shooting innocent bystanders if he started shooting.

Things went fine for three days and then one morning about 11 AM six men came riding into town and stopped at the hitching rack in front of the bank. They left one outside holding their horses, just like the other idiots had, and so I walked over to have a word with him after I picked up the Greener Billy had beside his chair.

"Billy, if the bank is getting robbed shoot that one holding the horses and then start shooting the horses. When the robbers come out start shooting them too," I told him before I headed that way.

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