Logan O'Dell Rides
Copyright© 2026 by Writer Mick
Chapter 17
Western Sex Story: Chapter 17 - Logan O'Dell was cut loose at a young age in the late 1880's. This is a portion of his story
Caution: This Western Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Western Cream Pie First Oral Sex Tit-Fucking Prostitution
I knew who it was as soon as I saw them. It was Ma and Pa Bolt and their daughter. I loosed the thong off my Colt and stepped out the back door and down the three steps to the ground. I wished the porch ran around the back of the house so I’d be on fairly even ground. I took five steps towards them and stopped before calling out.
“Hello. I’m Logan O’Dell the new owner of this ranch. May I help you?”
They didn’t reply for a bit and then the old woman spoke.
“I’m Ma Bolt. This is my man Pa Bolt and our daughter, Louella. You’ve heard of us and I’ve heard of you.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ve spoken to you before. I was the man that returned your sons to you after they ambushed Clete McCalister and me. I told you then that I didn’t want no trouble and I still don’t. But someone comes after me, I don’t run.”
“Well, all I got left is my man and daughter. I don’t want no more trouble.”
“I’ll agree to that,” I said just as Melinda came out the front door with my Henry rifle. She’d apparently snuck out to Whistle and retrieved it. “That’s my woman, Melinda Caldwell. I’m also the new Sheriff in town.”
“I heard that too. Are you gonna be after us?”
“Are you gonna be breaking the law?”
“No. With all my sons dead, the three of us have a chore keeping our place going. I said I don’t want no more trouble and I meant it.” Ma paused for a bit and then looked over at Melinda. “Ain’t you the whore that runs the sportin’ house in town?”
“Melinda is the owner,” I answered. “She’s not one of the girls. I’d appreciate you not calling her a whore anymore.”
“My oldest son told me about her. He said she got a bottomless hole.”
“Logan has no problem hitting bottom,” Melinda offered.
“Really?” she said before looking back to me. “Then you must have a root as big as Tucker over at the Square T.”
“Did you want anything else?” I asked, changing the subject. “If not, I’ve got work to do cleaning this place up.”
“You gonna bury that pilgrim with the arrows in him?”
“Yup. It seems the right thing to do.”
“He tried to make a go of it. He also tried to mess with my daughter. That’s when she shot him with the arrows. She walked up at night and put two into him from outside. She’s not to be messed with.”
“I have a woman. I have no need to go after any others.”
“Keep it that way,” she declared and started the buggy turning away from fence.
“Well, that was as pleasant a welcome as I could have imagined.”
“She wants you.”
“What? Who? Ma Bolt?”
“No. Her daughter. I could see the way her expression changed when you said we had no problems hitting bottom. She wants you.”
“Well, she ain’t gonna get me cause I already been got.”
“I noticed what you said. I’m your woman, huh?”
“I heard that from a very reliable source.”
“Come on back in and let’s get to cleaning. We got a body to bury and now that we know who killed that man, we can get a fire going in the fireplace and the stove.”
We went back into the house and met in the front room. We hugged and kissed.
“We need to make lists of things we need. I’m guessing those bed frames are solid but the mattresses and pillows are rotten. A new front window and curtains are needed. Some bees wax for all the wood. We still need to look over the barn and stable. I’m guessing they have tools there. Axes, shovels, plows, any leather will probably be brittle.”
“Let’s go take a look and see if we can do it without being stopped this time by the neighbors.”
Melinda set the Henry rifle down in a rack near the back door designed for such things. I gave her a smack on her ass and said, “There now we’re even.”
I opened the back door and stepped out and down the three steps, halting in my tracks because there were six Kiowa braves riding up to the fence. They had no face paint and all carried the now familiar lances. Melinda stepped back into the house and picked up the Henry rifle.
My Colt was still loose in its holster and I walked towards the fence. The six Indians stopped about ten yards from the fence and then two came forward. I continued to walk towards them until I got to the fence. I stood near one of the big, thick fence posts in case I was going to need cover. The two Kiowa stopped right up next to the fence, only a dozen feet from me.
“Hello,” I said calmly.
“Ándé à dóñ?” The older of the two said in the Kiowa native tongue.
The younger man asked, “My chief asks who are you?”
“I am Logan O’Dell.”
The younger brave translated to the Chief.
“A̱ dáu hé̱gáu èm gúldàu. Hàundé èm sàuláu bí̀.” The old Chief said before the younger translated.
“My Chief says, “My men know you. They say you are very brave.”
“Who are you?”
The young man spoke to the chief and said “Háu ám cáui?”
The old man said, “Guipago.”
“My Chief says Guipago. Which is Lone Wolf in your language.”
“What do you want here?”
“Háun èm góñdè?” the younger man asked.
The old chief replied, “Hàu: à t’áun bá nàu Bôlts gítà:n. Háun hèdò èn háun. Hàu dè hèl gút’aun sál?”
“My Chief says, “We have heard that you killed Bolts. We wish to live there.” He pointed off in a direction that was still part of my land, as far as I knew, then he continued, “Will you live in peace?”
“Will YOU live in peace? I have fought the Kiowa and do not wish to fight anymore.”
The young man looked at the old chief and said, “Háu dáu èm dáu-bàu? Ám dáu èm Kíowá à bíñtàu, ám gútkàu há dáu-bàu hò.”
“Báuigú”
“My Chief says, “It is good,” the young man said. “I am White Bird. I have been to school. We will live in the area way out past that rise. We will live there until the winter. We will not kill your cattle or horses.”
Just then Whistle walked around the side of the house. He either heard my voice or the Kiowa. He walked and stood next to me. The Kiowa all sat up higher and took note.
White Bird said, “That is the pony of Haske Ahaa, Brave Deer. He is dead.”
“I know. I took the horse after I fought Brave Deer. He and his party had me tied over an ant hill. When I did not cry out they left me. I caught Brave Deer and killed him. I took his lance and horse.”
“The people talk of you. You did not cry out. You did not beg. You are a strong warrior.”
“As I said, White Bird. I want to live in peace. I won’t bother you and you don’t bother me. We can meet and talk, but I will not fight unless others fight first.”
White Bird translated all I said to Lone Wolf. He nodded before turning away and riding back to the other four men.
I watched them go and then turned back to Melinda. She had the rifle at her side, pointed to the ground, and didn’t seem to be bothered by what had just happened.
“What next?” she asked quietly.
“I don’t know. What else could there be? We dealt with the Bolts and the Kiowa. The cowboys I put in Doc’s care shouldn’t even be close to here. Let’s check out the other buildings.”
Melinda stepped down off the stoop just outside the kitchen door and we walked to the barn. I was looking over the fence rails as we walked. It was quiet until suddenly I was pushed hard in the back. I spun around and startled Whistle. He threw his head back, his eyes wide, and let out a brief grunt.
“What do you want?”
He walked close to us and nuzzled Melinda, first, and then me.
“I think he’s either lonely or hungry,” Melinda said.
“I could see either one. Maybe there’s something for him inside.”
I opened the barn door and was startled by a combination of birds flying out into the late afternoon sunlight. Some took off for the far trees and others circled and landed on the roof. We walked in to find the barn empty. There was no hay. No grass sheafs. Whistle blew and took off walking into the barn. He looked over the stalls, finding nothing. He walked around the entire perimeter and then came back to us. He looked disappointed.
“Let me get this gear off you and you can find a place where the grass might be good.”
I undid the cinch belt and lift off the saddle finding a rail to rest it on. I threw his saddle blanket over it. When I removed the hackamore, he was headed for the back of the barn before I hung it up.
“What’s back there?” I asked as I followed him.
In the back of the barn there was a double door. It was double wide but only slightly more than man high. I undid the wooden latch holding it closed and pushed it. It didn’t move. I pushed harder and it gave a little. I pushed with all my strength and the double doors separated far enough that I could squeeze through. The grass was hip high and blocking the doors.
Whistle was wanting out there in the worst way, so I put all my strength into the door that had the least grass in front of it and it opened, tearing up the grass on that side.
“There you go my friend,” I said to the pinto. “Go and see what the world has for you. Only, try to stay away from the indians and their mares.”
Whistle gave out a loud whinny and took off running out into the large area behind the barn and in no time he’d jumped the fence and was gone. As he took off I was hoping that he wasn’t returning to the Kiowa. They had a reputation for riding horse to death and then eating them.
Melinda came up behind me and watched my horse run away.
“He reminds me of you, Logan. Maybe that’s why he likes me. He wants to be free but he also knows there is something in the world that will be better for him.”
I looked at her and smiled but didn’t answer. We continued to look around the barn and found all the tools a good ranch should have, but they were all rusted. It was going to be some work to clean them up and make them useful again. Melinda found the tack room and sure enough any leather that had been left there was rigid and cracked. After examining it I was pretty sure that soaking the leather in oil wouldn’t help them to be useful. I was going to need all new tack for any animals other than Whistle if he came back.
Grabbing the saddlebags off the saddle, I slung them over my shoulder and I walked out of the barn, heading for the privy. It was a two holer, as Mrs. Quincannon called them. When I opened the door, the odor was overpowering. Just inside the door and off to the side was a large sack. I was hoping that it was what I thought and upon opening the sack, I found that it was. The sack was about thirty pounds of lye.
I proceeded to dump a good portion down the two holes and I hoped the lye had spread out enough to cover the bottom and begin to work on the contents of the bottom of the privy. We would know the next day.
Melinda ran up next to me and took my hand as I walked out into the area behind the house. The area we had looked at through the kitchen windows. I noticed that all of the windows had shutters outside of them. In case of a storm or other nasty things, they could be pulled shut to protect the glass and inhabitants.
I led Melinda back inside and into the kitchen. Setting the saddle bags on the table I said to her, “I’m going to start a fire in the stove. Why don’t you see if the pump works and then check all of the cupboards for glasses and plates. See if there are pots and pans. I have food in the saddle bags so we should be good here tonight and then in the morning we can go back to town and start resupplying this place.”
“OK, lover. And hopefully in the morning, you’ll have a horse to ride.”
“That would be nice.”
Melinda retrieved the canteen that was tied to the saddle bags and primed the pump. It took a couple of tries but soon she was pulling up dirty water, and soon after that she was pulling up clear, cold, water. She opened a few cabinets and found some coffee cups. She sampled the water and declared it good. I found the tinder box and put three of the few split logs remaining inside the stoves fire box. I set the tinder and used one of my matches to start it up.
“Logan, while I work in here would you please start a fire in the fireplace as well?”
“Yes, dear,” I said and walked out of the kitchen.
While I was at that, Melinda had also rummaged through some other cabinets and found pots and pans. She took out a pot, set it in the sink, and filled it with water from the pump. I pretended to be focused on the fire but actually was truly watching the way her bottom moved as she worked the pump handle. In dealing with the Bolts and Kiowa today she showed herself to be firm and brave. She stood by me and had my back in both cases. I was asking myself which I thought better of her courage or the way her bottom moved. I was about to hold an internal vote when she turned around and her breasts entered the contest.
What was I thinking? I never had these talks in my head before. After Darlene women didn’t matter to me. They were all deceitful, except for Mrs. Quincannon. She was the peak of what a woman was, as far as I was concerned. Then I met Melinda. I can’t say she made a great first impression. Of course I had no idea what it meant to have sex. I thought I knew what love was but Darlene proved me wrong there.
I walked back towards the kitchen and stopped at the door, staring at the vision moving around the kitchen.
“LOGAN!”
“Huh? What?”
“Do you often fall asleep standing up with your eyes staring at a woman’s breasts?”
“I guess it depends on the woman.”
“Good answer. Is the stove top hot yet? I’d like to get this pot of water boiling.”
I touched the stove top and didn’t pull my hand away.
“Seems to be warming up.”
“That’ll do,” she said and she picked up the pot and walked to the stove. I was going to tell her to be careful not to dip her teats in the water, but then I thought of all the options I’d have to dry them or clean them or just grab them and pull them out of her shirt. What was I thinking? I’ve never had thoughts like that before.
“LOGAN! You’re doing it again.”
“I’m sorry, Melinda. I’m just coming to realize how wonderful you are. I’m only staring at your breasts because I can’t see your soul.”
Melinda looked at me with an expression I’d never seen anyone give me, let alone a woman. Then I caught a bit of wetness in her eyes.
“Melinda? Are you OK? Did I say something wrong?”
“Wrong? No, Logan. You said something to me that not a single man I’ve ever met has said to me or meant to say to me. I don’t even think a man has ever thought that about me. Logan, I love you more all the time. And what’s more, I’m wondering how you can say such things to me without starting to know that you love me.”
“I suppose it’s because I still don’t understand love.”
“But you know how it feels. You have to, to talk to me about my soul.”
Melinda stepped to me and wrapped me in the tightest embrace I’d ever felt. I saw that she had tears running down her face just before she turned her head and hugged me. I took her in my arms and just held on. I could feel the heat of her body and I felt her shaking as she sobbed in my arms.
“Melinda, dear, calm down.”
She looked up and me and lovingly whispered, “Stupid man.”
“What?”
She looked at me again. Releasing her hold on me, she placed her left hand behind my head and pressed her lips against mine for a short, but very, hard kiss.
“You called me dear.”
“I did?”
“Stupid man.”
She kissed me again this time using her right hand to take hold of my cock through my pants. She squeezed it as hard as she could. She relaxed her kiss and again looked me in the eyes. She said, “Stu-pid-man,” as she squeezed and pulled on my cock with each syllable.
“Come with me.”
I had no choice with her having a death grip on my cock. I followed her into the main room where she released my cock and took hold of a metal rug beater.
“Logan, dear, please pick up the rug and bring it onto the front porch.”
She went to the front door, opened it wide, and stepped outside. I grabbed the edge of the oval shaped rub from the floor in front of the fireplace and dragged it outside.