The Branson Kid
Chapter 5

Copyright© 2011 by aubie56

Western Sex Story: Chapter 5 - Jack Witherspoon was a precocious kid, especially when it came to guns. He started out as a farm boy, but had killed his first man by the time he was 13. He became a professional gunslinger and managed to accumulate a big load of gold while he was still young. Later on, he wound up with five wives. The dialog is pretty thick, mostly with the dropped “d” and “g” word endings. I hope you enjoy the story, anyway.

Caution: This Western Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft   mt/Fa   Consensual   Historical   Humor   Polygamy/Polyamory  

I had Jack on a lead rope, though I did hope that he would eventually learn ta follow without one. We were about 15 miles from Dallas, an' I was thinkin' on whether or not ta press on ta Ft. Worth or ta camp fer the night. I was payin' too much attention ta my thoughts, an' Jack paid fer his keep right then.

He brayed an' stopped, jerkin' the lead rope from my hand. That snapped me to attention just in time ta see a man ride out of the bushes ta the side of the road. He had a gun in his hand, soz there was no doubt what he had in mind. If it was not fer Jack, he would of had me dead ta rights.

Well, I didn't fool around! I drew with my left hand, the one that had been holdin' the lead rope, an' shot the galoot afore he could shoot me. I looked around ta be sure that the road agent did not have a partner, but I saw nobody. Jack was lookin' right smug, soz I thanked him fer the warnin' an' dismounted ta check out if there was any money or loot ta be had.

I got a little closer an' realized that this outlaw was on my wanted posters, though I did not remember how much he was worth. Hell, that was some money just dropped inta my lap, soz I was gonna haul him inta a marshal's office fer the receipt. He had $63 in his money belt, soz I took that, but he did not have anythin' else that I wanted. I figured ta sell his guns, tack, an' hoss, but the undertaker could have the rest ta pay fer the buryin'.

The encounter with this galoot settled whether or not I was gonna camp fer the night. The weather was pretty warm, soz I wanted ta git rid of the body afore it got too ripe. That made me want ta find a town an' a marshal as fast as I could manage it. I tied him ta his hoss an' set out fer the next town at a brisk lope.

I was right lucky this time. The town was only about 90 minutes away, an' it had a marshal. We pulled out the wanted posters ta find out just who this galoot was. He turned out ta be Howard Long an' worth $35. Well, he was certainly worth haulin' in! There was a courthouse in Ft. Worth, soz that was where I headed the next mornin' after a night in the local hotel. The most notable thin' 'bout the hotel was the size of the bedbugs. I sure was glad I had my hat!

As I kind of expected, I had ta argue with the clerk 'bout collecting the $35. That was enough money fer anybody ta be concerned about. I gave him Ma's lead-meltin' stare an' he came around. I spent the day in Ft. Worth just goofin' around listenin' ta the gossip in the saloons.

I didn't learn much, since most people just wanted ta talk politics. They was mostly wonderin' who was gonna replace Buchanan as president. Mostly, the conversation steered around ta secession ifen they didn't like the new president, whoever he was. I figured that it was kind of early ta be worryin' 'bout that, since Buchanan had one more year in office, but that was not somethin' they wanted ta hear. Buchanan had pretty much knuckled under ta the pressure from the slave states, an' the Southerners had gotten used ta it. Shit, I was not old enough ta vote, soz I did not see what it might have ta do with me, anyway.

I got bored with Ft. Worth pretty damned quick an' headed out the next day, more or less toward El Paso. I started experimentin' with lettin' Jack follow without the lead rope, an' he caught on fast. Within a week, I was not havin' ta hold the rope unless we was goin' through a town. A mule was a right temptin' thin' ta steal, soz I wanted it ta be obvious that Jack belonged ta me.

Shit, thin's were gittin' serious around here with the politics thin'. I started seein' signs about "No Abolitionists Allowed." Hell, ifen this kept up, I could see trouble brewin' on all sides. I was no abolitionist, but I could not see myself supportin' slavery. On top of that, I did not support secession, either, but I kept my mouth shut on both counts. I figured that the secessionists were just makin' trouble fer themselves, an' I did not want ta git involved.

As I pushed west, I did notice that the slavery an' secession ardor died down. There were not many Whites around here. I was getting' close ta Comancheria, the land claimed by the Comanches as their homeland. Actually, at one time, Ft. Worth had been a fort on the edge of Comancheria, but the border had been pushed back as more Whites moved in an' settled. The Comanches were anxious ta git the land back, an' they killed every White man they could find. Mostly, they enslaved the women an' children they captured, but I could expect a very painful death ifen they ever captured me. Every once in a while, I passed a burned-out farm house, an' there was no question but what the Comanches had been the ones ta do it.

Yeah, I was not surprised ta see smoke on the horizon. The sensible thin' fer me ta do was ta run like hell in the opposite direction, but I just could not do that. Instead, I picked up speed an' headed toward the smoke. I really doubted that I could do much ta help, even ifen I did git there in time, but I was bound ta try!

I finally got close enough ta see what was goin' on. There was an adobe house an' barn situated near a spring. The smoke was comin' from a hay stack beside the barn. That there adobe was not gonna burn, soz that there loose hay was the only thin' in real danger from the fire.

I pulled out my Mississippi rifle an' set a cap on the nipple. Now, it was ready ta shoot as soon as I moved the hammer ta full cock. The only problem was that I would have only one shot with it, soz I had better make it a good one! I saw some gunfire comin' from the roof of the house aimed at the Comanches ridin' in a circle around the house.

There was a fair amount of gunpowder bein' used, but I did not see that it was doin' much good. On the other hand, the Comanches were shootin' arrows at the house, but I did not see them doin' much good, either. It looked ta me like a standoff, but the farmers could still git hurt, soz I figured that I should go ahead an' take a hand.

I could not tell ifen the Injuns was ignorin' me or ifen they had not seen me yet, but they was still havin' fun ridin' around the house an' shoutin' at the top of their lungs. The people on the roof was still shootin', but they didn't seem ta hit anythin'. Well, it was time fer my two-cents-worth.

I rode closer ta make sure I scored a hit. The effective range of the Mississippi rifle was over 1,000 yards, but the bullet, even as a minie ball, traveled so slow that it was almost impossible ta hit a movin' target at over 200 yards. I took that into consideration an' rode in 'til I was about 150 yards away from the fight. I stayed on my hoss in case I had ta run, but I figured that I could git in a good shot while I was sitting on Hector's back. He was a right steady hoss, an' I figured that he was stable enough for a shootin' platform.

I was not gonna shoot at a man at that range—I was gonna shoot at a hoss. Ifen I scored a good hit, the hoss was goin' down, an' there was a good chance that its rider would be killed. At least, he would have one or more broken bones. I picked a hoss an' let fly with my minie ball. That bullet was big enough that the hoss was goin' down pretty much wherever I hit it, soz I dropped the rifle back in its scabbard about the time the bullet arrived at the hoss I had been aimin' at. Yep, I could not tell exactly where my bullet hit, but that hoss sure went down while runnin' at full speed. His rider went flyin' over the hoss' head an' never moved after he hit the ground.

Another hoss tripped over the first hoss, an' its rider went down the same way as the first one did. Wow, I got two fer one with that shot! The Injuns milled around a while an' rode away from the house. They fiddled an' fooled around fer a while afore two of them rode toward the house hell bent for leather. They slowed when they came to their fallen companions an' jumped from their hosses. The two corpses were thrown across the backs of the live hosses, an' the two men jumped back aboard. They rode away as fast as they had approached. When they met up with the rest of the Injuns, they all rode away toward the west. As far as I know, I never saw them again.

 
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