Bull Clayton: Blood and Dust
Copyright© 2025 by Ayra Atkinson
Chapter 6: The Escape
Western Sex Story: Chapter 6: The Escape - Some men run from violence. Others wear it like a second skin. Clayton “Bull” Best never went looking for blood. But it always seemed to find him—splattered across dusty barroom floors, burning in gunpowder air, or smeared on the knuckles of desperate men.
Caution: This Western Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fiction Crime Western Cat-Fighting
As the first light of dawn crept through the cracks in the shutters, Bull stirred from his slumber, the tantalizing aroma of breakfast wafting through the air. He opened his eyes to find Mrs. Church already up, her naked form silhouetted against the flickering light of the stove. She moved with a quiet grace, her muscles rippling with the efficiency of a well-oiled machine as she worked the skillet.
Jimmy emerged from his bedroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He froze in the doorway, his gaze landing on the sight of his mother standing uncovered in the early morning light.
Mrs. Church turned, her eyes widening at the sight of Bull, her mind racing to come up with a believable explanation. But before she could say a word, Bull stepped into view, his own nakedness a testament to the events of the night.
Jimmy’s eyes grew wide, his gaze flickering between his mother and the strange man in their house. “Who he is, Ma?” he asked, his voice thick with confusion.
Mrs. Church took a deep breath, her heart racing. “Jimmy,” she said, her voice calm and steady. “This is Clayton Best. He’s going to help us leave this place.”
Jimmy looked at his mother, then back at Bull, his eyes lingering on the man’s naked form. He took a step forward, his gaze dropping to the dry liquid that marked the space between her legs. “Hi, Mr. Best,” he said, his voice small and uncertain.
Bull offered the boy a warm smile, his eyes filled with understanding. “Good morning, Jimmy,” he said, rising from the bed with a fluid grace that belied his bulk. He walked over to Mrs. Church, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Your mother’s right,” he said, his voice a soft rumble. “We’re going to leave this town together.”
Mrs. Church took a deep breath, the weight of their decision settling in her chest. “You two get the breakfast, I’ll go clean up,” she murmured, her eyes meeting Bull’s for a brief moment. In that look, she saw the promise of a future, a silent vow that he would protect them both. She slipped into the small washroom, the cool water of the basin a stark contrast to the heat of the room.
Bull picked up the plates with a gentle touch, the clank of metal against metal echoing through the quiet house. He glanced over at Jimmy, who was still staring at him with a mix of awe and confusion. “You are going to school for now, kid?” he asked, his voice a gentle rumble.
Jimmy nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Bull handed the boy a plate piled high with eggs and bacon, the grease sizzling and popping as it hit the hot metal. “You’re going to need your strength,” he said, his tone firm but gentle. “Education is important, even in a town like Ell Paso.”
Jimmy nodded, his eyes never leaving the food as he took the plate with both hands. He sat down at the small table, his gaze flicking up to Bull before dropping back down to his meal. “Ma says school’s the way out of here,” he murmured, his voice filled with a longing that tugged at Bull’s heartstrings.
Bull took the seat across from him, his own plate balanced on one hand as he studied the boy. “It’s a good start,” he said, his voice a gruff encouragement. “But it’s not the only way. There are many paths. Some are easy to follow, others are harder to find. But it’s the ones you choose that make all the difference.” He took a bite of his breakfast, the taste of the eggs and bacon a reminder of simpler times.
Jimmy’s gaze flickered up to meet Bull’s, his eyes searching for answers that he wasn’t quite ready to articulate. “Ma says I’m too young to understand,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own chewing. “But I see things. I see the way men look at her.”
Bull watched the boy’s reaction, the innocence in his eyes a stark contrast to the harsh reality of their lives. He knew that the situation was uncomfortable, but he felt it was important to address the elephant in the room. “Jimmy,” he began, his voice gentle but firm, “I know it’s not easy, but I need to ask you something.”
The boy looked up at him, his expression a mix of fear and curiosity. “What is it, Mr. Best?”
Bull took a deep breath and spoke with the tenderness of a man who had seen too much of the world’s cruelty. “Jimmy, I noticed that you saw your mother without clothes on this morning. Is that something that happens often?”
Jimmy’s cheeks flushed scarlet, and he dropped his gaze to his plate. “Yes,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I saw her fight too.”
Bull’s expression grew solemn, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on his heart. “Jimmy,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet understanding. “Do you know why your mother has to do those things?”
Jimmy looked up at Bull, his young eyes holding a wisdom beyond his years. “Ma’s tell me,” he said, his voice steady despite the tremble in his hands. “If everyone else can see her, why not me?” He took a bite of his food, the action a declaration of his acceptance of the world’s harshness.
Bull’s eyes searched hers, the question in his gaze as palpable as the tension in the room. “Is this ... normal here?” he asked, his voice tight with disbelief.
Jimmy nodded solemnly, his eyes never leaving Bull’s. “Yes,” he said, his voice a barely audible whisper. “I’ve seen other boys do that too. They come to their mom when they’re bathing.” His words hung in the air, a stark revelation of the horrors that had become their daily existence in Ell Paso.
Mrs. Church emerged from the washroom, dressed in a simple but clean chemise. Her eyes met Bull’s, the unspoken conversation between them thick with tension. She sat at the table, her plate untouched. “It’s just how things are here,” she said, her voice a mere shadow of its usual strength. “We just showing, not anything.”
Jimmy looked at his mother, his confusion deepening. “Ma,” he began, but she cut him off with a gentle hand on his arm. “Eat, Jimmy. We’ve got a lot to talk about, and you’re going to the school now, don’t come late anymore.”
With a nod, the boy took a deep breath and returned his attention to his food, his eyes darting back to Bull and his mother as they moved around the room. Mrs. Church sat on the edge of the table, her legs swinging gently as she took a piece of toast and nibbled on it. Bull could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the weight of her secret life in Ell Paso etched into every line of her beautiful face.
“Jimmy,” she began, her voice firm but gentle, “you know how curious you are about the women’s bodies, right?”
The boy nodded, his eyes wide with innocence.
Mrs. Church took a deep breath and spoke with a tone that was both firm and reassuring. “In this town, there are things that aren’t right,” she said, her eyes never leaving Jimmy’s. “I show you because I don’t want you to be curious about what you shouldn’t be. It’s not the same as how other people look at me, understand?”
Jimmy nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing a fraction.
“Good,” Bull said, his voice low and serious. “I know that a man’s curiosity about a woman’s body can lead down a dark path. It’s a powerful thing, and if it isn’t handled right, it can lead to pain and suffering for everyone involved.” He paused, looking at the boy intently. “Do you understand, jim?”
Jimmy nodded, his eyes downcast. “I do, Mr. Best.”
Bull gave him a gentle nod. “Good,” he said. “Now, go get dressed for school.”
Jimmy slid off the chair, his eyes never leaving the floor as he made his way back to his room. The silence was thick, heavy with the weight of their conversation. Mrs. Church looked at Bull, her eyes searching his. “Thank you,” she whispered, the words a silent benediction.
Bull nodded, his gaze serious. “He needs a man to show him the right way,” he said, his voice gruff. “Someone to teach him about respect, honor, and how to treat a lady.”
Mrs. Church sighed, her eyes misting over. “I’ve been trying, but I can’t give him what he truly needs,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I am just a woman.”
Bull’s gaze softened, and he reached out to take her hand. “You’re more than just a woman,” he said, his thumb brushing gently over her knuckles. “You’re his mother, and that’s the most important thing; he needs a man’s guidance.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their conversation settling around them like a warm blanket. The sounds of the town waking up began to filter in through the windows, the distant cries of roosters and the clanging of the blacksmith’s hammer punctuating the quiet.
Bull cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Hazel,” he said, his voice gruff but gentle. “I’m going to get my Colt back from the pawnshop. We can’t have you fighting unprotected, and I still got the money for horse.”
Mrs. Church nodded, her eyes meeting his with a spark of determination. “And I’ll use my earnings to buy Jimmy some proper clothes,” she said, her voice firm. “He can’t go to school looking like a ragamuffin.”
Jimmy emerged from the bathroom, his hair still damp from his wash, wearing his best shirt that had been patched more times than anyone could count. He looked at Bull and his mother, the love and warmth in their eyes a stark contrast to the cold reality of the world outside their door.
Mrs. Church took a deep breath, steeling herself for the day ahead. “Alright,” she said, her voice a mix of pride and sadness. “Let’s get you ready for school.”
Jimmy nodded, his eyes shining with a newfound understanding. He took a step towards his mother, his small arms wrapping around her waist. “bye, mom,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
Mrs. Church leaned into the embrace, her heart aching with a mix of love and fear for her son. She watched as he picked up his satchel and headed out the door, the sound of his footsteps on the wooden floorboards echoing in the quiet room. When the door clicked shut behind him, she turned to Bull, her expression solemn.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “For everything.”
Bull stood, pulling on his pants with a swift, efficient movement that belied the emotional tumult within him. He felt the weight of his nakedness, not just the absence of his clothes but the vulnerability of his soul laid bare before her. “Don’t thank me yet,” he said gruffly. “We’ve still got a long way to go.”
They dressed in silence, the mood sobered by the gravity of their situation. Mrs. Church, now fully dressed in her usual attire, looked at Bull, the question in her eyes unspoken. “Ready?” he asked, his hand outstretched.
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