Caution: This Western Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, mt/ft, Consensual, Historical, Western, Harem, Violent,
Desc: Western Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Times are tough at the turn of the 20th Century in the USA, so Aaron is forced to go West to Deadwood where the ground is reputed to be covered with gold just waiting to be picked up. Aaron quickly learns the truth, but manages to survive, and even thrive, in the wilderness of Deadwood, South Dakota, until the big fire. He and his new family decide to head south for Texas. Never did a tenderfoot have to learn the ways of the West so fast! Aaron turns luck and pluck into a winning combination.
To my way of thinking, Brooklyn, New York, was not a bad place, but I didn't think that it was such a good place, either. Here I was, 16 years old, and without a job, without a girlfriend, and without a family. The economy was in a shambles and had been ever since the last panic. I had lost my family, father, mother, and two sisters, from fever last winter. Even my girlfriend had died from the fever. I had sold just about everything I had to buy food. I was living on the street, now, since I couldn't pay rent any longer. Shit, I had to do something, but I didn't know what it could be.
From talking to some of my friends, I figured that the chances of employment were down around zero. Even the Army was refusing new volunteers. It looked like the only thing to do was to go out West, but where? Shit, I'd never been on a horse nor had I ever fired a gun, so I figured that I didn't stand much chance of being a cowboy. There was no longer any money in hunting for small furs, and the buffalo were pretty well wiped out, so there was nothing there, either. Prospecting for gold or silver seemed like my best prospect, but I knew nothing about that, either.
Oh, hell, who was I kidding? I didn't have any choice. There were rumors about gold lying on the ground just waiting to be picked up out in Dakota Territory. I figured that I could get by if all I had to do was to pick the gold up off the ground, so I decided to go to Dakota and see what there was out there. It wouldn't cost me any more to starve in the Dakota Territory than it did to starve in Brooklyn!
Once I had made up my mind what to do, I set out to make it happen. It was a long walk down to the railroad yards, and I knew I was out of my depth as soon as I got there. There were a hell of a lot of men, and a few women, wandering around looking at the departing trains. The problem was that there were a flock of railroad bulls (private police) also wandering around. Whenever one of the wanderers got too close to the trains, one or more of the bulls would wave a club at him and threaten to beat him until he left.
I could see that there was more to hopping a train that just walking up to one and climbing on. I spied an older man siting in the shade and watching what was going on, so I ambled over to where he was as said, "Hello, Mister. Mind if I sit here?"
"No, Son, there's plenty of room. Have a seat." I thanked him and sat down. Neither one of us said anything for a while. We just watched the dance of the bulls and the would be hobos. Finally, the man laughed and said, "Them folks must be as green as grass the way they keep trying ta git passed them bulls in broad daylight. Somebody ought ta tell them ta wait 'til dark."
I laughed with him, and said that I was green, too, but I could see that there was no profit in trying to get aboard right now. He said, "Well, ya looks like ya got more sense than average." He held out his hand to shake and announced, "Welcome ta the world of the hobo. My name is Pittsburgh, what's yer's?"
I thought for a moment and decided that "Pittsburgh" couldn't really be his name, so I decided not to say my real name of Aaron Schwartz. Instead, I said, "Call me 'Brooklyn.'"
"Well, Brooklyn, I see that ya learns fast. Where ya headed?"
"I don't know for sure, Pittsburgh. I ain't got much learning, so I figured I'd head for Dakota Territory and hunt for gold."
"I don't know if that's a good idea or not, but I'm headed for Chicago, so ya can trail along with me that far if ya want ta."
"That's right kindly of ya, Pittsburgh. Right now, I need all of the help that I can get. I sure appreciate your offer."
"Think nothin' of it. Company's always good on a long trip. Ya got anythin' ta eat?"
"No, Sir. That's why I headed West. I ain't had nothing to eat since noon yesterday. With no money, I was out of luck."
"Hmm. OK, Brooklyn, ya just stick with me, and we'll find somethin'." By now, it was late afternoon, so he got up and led me toward a grove of trees back aways from the railroad yard. "This here is a hobo jungle. Ya can almost always find somethin' ta eat around here if ya are polite about it. Let's see what we can dig up. Ah, hey, Benny, where's the stew pot?"
"Hi, Pittsburgh, it's over that way 'bout 50 yards. Ya headin' out tonight?"
"Yeah, ya comin'?"
"Naw, I'll hang around here a couple more days. Then, Jimmy the Greek an' me are headed fer Atlanta."
"OK. Good luck. Come on, Brooklyn, let's see what's on for supper, tonight." Pittsburgh led me toward a large pot that was simmering over a very low fire. There was a dipper hanging beside the pot and some empty cans lying on the ground beside it. "Grab one of them cans and see what ya can dip from the pot, Son. We might just be lucky tonight."
I dipped into the pot and felt something down on the bottom, so I lifted it out and poured it into a can I had picked up. It looked like a piece of meat still on the bone, but I couldn't identify it. I looked kind of doubtful at it, but Pittsburgh laughed and said, "It's OK, Son. Ya can be sure that it's safe ta eat if it comes from a Mulligan Stew pot."
I took his word for it and chomped down on the morsel. To my surprise, it tasted good. I figured that it wasn't kosher, but this was no time to be too particular. I drank the liquid when I finished the meat, and, to my surprise, I felt full for the first time in a week! Hell, if this was what it meant to be a hobo, then I was all for it!
We finished eating and Pittsburgh said, "We'd best find a place to sleep for a little while. There ain't no westbound trains 'til after midnight. Follow me." We found a quiet place between the stew pot and the railroad and lay down on the grass. Pittsburgh was asleep in less than five minutes, and I wasn't far behind. The next thing I knew, I was being shaken awake, and Pittsburgh said, "Come on, Son. It's time ta catch the Westbound."
We didn't head directly for the yards, but for a bit of brush near the track about a mile from the bustle of the making up of trains and the gaggle of railroad bulls. "This is the last place for a while ta catch a train while it's still goin' slow, so here's where we board. We want to travel in a boxcar, but it's safer ta hop aboard a flatcar and work our way from there. The perfect place is half way between the engine and the caboose, but we better take what we can get to start with."
I had no idea what was the best way to go, so I just followed Pittsburgh as he led me to the brush. We edged our way up close to the track and waited for a train to come by. We didn't have long to wait. A train of about 30 cars came by and we ran to board a flatcar that was lumbering by. I was lucky that it was empty, so I had little trouble getting aboard. A loaded car, especially one covered by a tarp, would probably have given me trouble as I jumped aboard—I needed all of the open space that I could get.
Pittsburgh grabbed my hand and pulled me along to the next car. It was a gondola, also empty, so it was ideal for us to rest in and catch our breath. Once we were in place, Pittsburgh said, "We were too easy ta see on that empty flat. We'll be tossed off the train if a bull sees us, soz we want to stay out of sight, especially from the caboose."
We leaned against the wall of the gondola and rested for about half an hour. It's surprising how much effort it takes to board a moving train in the dark. One slip, and you could easily be dead. We sat there for a while, then Pittsburgh said, "OK, it's time ta look for a boxcar ta ride in. We want to stay near the tail end of the train, since those cars are most likely to be goin' the farthest distance. Those up near the engine are usually the ones what gets dropped off at side tracks and loading docks.
The train was now traveling about 35 MPH (Miles per Hour), so the cars, particularly the empties, were swaying back and forth as the train moved along. Damn, we were supposed to climb on top of the boxcars and walk across the roofwalk to find a car to hide in? Pittsburgh laughed at the look on my face and pulled me along to the ladder to the roof of the next car.
Well, I climbed up there, but I was not too happy about it, let me tell you! However, once I found the rhythm of the car's swaying, it wasn't too bad. Pittsburgh leaned over the side of every car to look at the doors. At the fourth car, he said, "This here one looks good. Now, ya hold my feet while I push the door open."
My God! That man was strong in his upper body! He managed to push the door open about three feet. At his signal, I turned him loose. Pittsburgh grabbed the edge of the roof over the door and pivoted around so that he could leap into the car. It was obvious that I was going to have to do the same thing, but I was not looking forward to it. Oh, well, I had no choice. I swung over empty space and managed to let go at the proper time so that I fell into the boxcar.
Pittsburgh was standing there waiting for me, and he said, "See, I told ya it would be easy!" I didn't say anything, I was too busy trying not to vomit over the thoughts of the chance that I had taken.
I looked around and saw that we were the only ones in the car, so we could pretty much do as we pleased. Pittsburgh pulled the door almost closed, but he left about a 1-inch gap which he assured would always be there by wedging a piece of wood in the door track. So that's why he had me pick up a piece of wood while we were hiding in the brush. The gap allowed us fresh air, and it kept the door from being locked. A locked door would trap us inside, and that could be fatal for several reasons.
The car was pretty clean, so we just lay down on the floor against the wall so that we would not roll around and went to sleep. A couple of times, the train stopped to drop off or pick up cars, but that was the only disturbance during the whole night.
The next day was just an extension of the night. We had no food and only a little water in a bottle carried by Pittsburgh, so we slept most of the time. That night, we dropped off the train and visited a jungle for more food and water. This time, I picked up a bottle to carry my own water. I wasn't going to get caught short like that again.
We went through the same routine to catch another freight the next night. Along about daybreak, the train stopped to take on water. There was a great rumble as the boxcar door was opened and a man clambered in. My God, he must have been 6'-3" tall and weighed over 300 pounds. He looked around and spotted us.
He pulled a revolver and said, "OK, you bastards, I've got you this time. Hold up your hands and march toward me." We did as ordered, and when we got close enough, he said, "Shit, I know you, Pittsburgh! Well, you won't get away from me again!"
He pointed his gun at Pittsburgh's gut and started to pull the trigger. Hell, I didn't know what to do, so I just reacted on instinct, I guess. I jumped at him and hit him in the gut with my head and shoulder. Man, it was like running into a tree! Nevertheless, we both fell out of the open door of the boxcar, and I was lucky enough to land on top of the railroad bull. Somehow he landed with his back crosswise to an adjacent track and I could hear the crack of his back breaking as we hit.
By the greatest of good fortune, Pittsburgh had only been grazed by the bullet. He had a wound in his side, but it seemed only to have been a flesh wound on the outside of his ribs. It was painful, but not fatal if we could get him some medical attention.
I was already outside the boxcar, and Pittsburgh jumped down beside me. "Shit, Jasper is dead! Ya'll be charged with murder if they catch you. Don't tell me it was an accident, I saw it. That won't change a thing. The railroad has enough pull to get ya hung here in Indiana. Quick, take his gun and money, and anything else he might have that's valuable, then we gots ta run like hell. It'll be weeks before we can safely hop a freight on this line.
I took his gun, an S&W .44-40 revolver and some spare bullets. Pittsburgh took a club, and we split the $36.50 he had in his pockets and billfold. It was a strain, but we threw Jasper's body back into the boxcar and closed the door. Hopefully, they wouldn't find his body for a while and give us a chance to escape.
We ran to some woods, and I tied up Pittsburgh's wound as best I could. From there, we walked about 10 miles to a jungle Pittsburgh knew about. It was a big one, and there was a chance of finding a doctor there. It took us almost all day to walk that far, what with Pittsburgh's wound slowing us down quite a bit. We made it just before dark, and everybody had to hear about our escape from Jasper, who was universally hated. Fortunately, Doc Blister was able to wash out Pittsburgh's wound with whiskey and sew it up. He claimed that was all anybody could do for it, anyway, so Pittsburgh should be OK eventually.
Meanwhile, we met somebody else in the jungle who was a big help to me. He used to travel with a carnival doing fancy shooting, so we wiled away the time waiting on Pittsburgh to get well by having Dead Eye teach me to shoot. He convinced me to carry my pistol under my shirt in a crossdraw position so that it would always be handy, but it also would be concealed. I didn't want to advertise that I was armed with a revolver, but I did want it handy. Those .44-40 cartridges were expensive, but I had the money from Jasper, so I could buy enough to practice with.
It was about four weeks before Pittsburgh was well enough to travel, so we waited that long before setting out on the rest of our trip. As we got close to Chicago, Pittsburgh bid me goodbye and dropped off the train. I rode a little farther and dropped off, too. I had to switch railroads at Chicago, so I headed to the north side of the city to see what I could find.
By now, I pretty well knew what to do, since I was a quick learner and Pittsburgh was a good teacher. I caught a Burlington train nearly through Wisconsin, and switched to the Northern Pacific for the rest of the run through Minnesota. That's when I got the bad news. I had been headed for Deadwood, South Dakota, when I found out that I couldn't get there by train.
Shit, now what? I managed to talk my way on as a guard for a wagon train of freight headed for one of the mining operations near Deadwood, so I had a ride and a job to get me there.
I had my pistol and they gave me a shotgun to use. I had never fired a shotgun before, but the foreman showed me how to break it and load it. He said any fool could shoot a shotgun, that was why they gave one to me. I didn't know if he was kidding me or not, but I kept my mouth shut and kept my job.
We were in the second day of the trip when we were jumped by Indians. I didn't know if they were serious or just having fun, but I didn't wait around to find out. One of them got close enough to me to scare the shit out of me, so I shot him. I guess it was the right thing to do, because the others ran away, and the wagon master thanked me for doing a good job.