Logan O'Dell Rides
Copyright© 2026 by Writer Mick
Chapter 7
Western Sex Story: Chapter 7 - 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
The brightness of the full moon lite the area with a grey-white sort of color. Something moved to my left, I moved behind a small group of rocks and froze waiting for it to move again. Still not being sure if the attackers were Kiowa or the Bolts, I hadn’t decided how to approach them.
The object moved again and the way it moved made me believe I was dealing with the Bolts. Kiowa wouldn’t be so obvious. I took aim with the rifle and waited for the form to move again. When it did, I fired twice and rolled about eight feet to my right and behind another group of rocks before they could shoot back. A yelp came from my target and two rifles sent lead to the spot where I’d been.
A shot rang out from behind the attackers and another one of them let out a cry. To my reckoning, between Clete and me, we’d hit at least three of the attackers and maybe killing one of them. Not being sure I decided to just stay in place and see who moved next.
The best thing to do when fighting at night is to not move. Now granted it was moon bright but the human eye will notice something move as opposed to just sitting still. Anything that moved would be noticed right off and I wasn’t going to be the one to move first. I sat in among the rocks, and in the quiet, reloaded my rifle.
When I was finished I just leaned back against a rock and began taking in the beauty of the stars. The sky was so full of stars that portions of it seemed to be white smoke. Occasionally a shooting star would leave a streak across the blanket of stars. With the disruption the shooting had caused there weren’t many animal or bug noises. I fought off sleep knowing that as soon as I slept one of them Bolts was gonna find me.
The moon had moved almost halfway across the sky when things began to happen. First, someone stumbled around the rock I was hiding behind and kicked the rifle out of my hand. I hadn’t heard anyone coming and my grip wasn’t as tight as it could have been. When he kicked the barrel, it startled me so that I rolled to my right and came up with the Kiowa lance in my hands. I saw the form with the moon high up behind and lunged for him.
The lance met with resistance and I leaned into it. The attacker screamed loudly and physically jerked around. I steadied myself and held the lance firm knowing that the more the man moved the deeper and wider the lance cut into him. As the weapon cut its way into his belly, I released it and stepped back to find my rifle when another figure appeared about five yards in front of me. He had his rifle pointed in my direction and was in the process of bringing it to bear when I heard a familiar noise.
The pinto had followed me and the sound of him blowing right behind the man startled him and turned him off his aim. Then the pinto rose up and stomped down knocking the attacker to the ground. With teeth and forelegs the stallion attacked the figure on the ground until it stopped putting up a defense. The horse threw its head up and down in celebration as I rushed to the man I’d lanced. He was dead. I recovered the lance and turned to the man the pinto had finished off. He was equally dead.
“Logan?”
I turned towards the rough voice and answered.
“Over here, Clete. You OK?”
“No. I got hit.”
I made my way towards the voice and found Clete down on both knees, using his rifle to prop himself up.
“Where’d you get hit?”
“Both legs and my left side.”
I set Clete down on his back and did my best to find the wounds as he directed me in the dark. As I found each one I plugged them up with the portion of his shirt and pants that were nearest the wound.
“Did we get them all?”
“I think so, Clete. I got a lance into one, he’s dead. My pinto stomped another. He’s dead. I’m pretty sure that I shot another one. I’ll have to find him. And I think you got one.”
“Yeah I hit one for sure but I don’t know if he’s dead.”
“Well, let’s get these holes plugged up and get you back to the ranch. I can come back in daylight and see who was killed or wounded. I’m not too worried about the attackers anymore. I’m sure it was the Bolts and we’ve done for them or a good portion of them.”
“Let’s hope,” Clete said struggling to breath.
“How long before dawn?” I asked.
“About an hour and a half, I think.”
“The moon’s about to set and it’s going to get darker. I don’t think I can find your horse in the dark. We’re going to have to stay here until it’s light enough. Can you hang on till then?”
“I don’t know, Logan. I think the Bolts might have killed me.”
“Well the hell with that. I’ll be right back.”
I ran over to the pinto and jumped into the saddle. I leaned over towards his head and said, “Let’s find the horses.”
The pinto perked up his ears and began to walk then trot. In a short time I was approaching a huge oak tree with Clete’s horse tied to it. I patted the pinto on the neck and got off. I put the blanket and saddle on Clete’s gelding and made sure it was good and secure. I took the reins in hand and mounted the pinto, leading Clete’s horse back to him.
When we got back to my friend, I found him unconscious. I checked and he was still breathing so I got him up and slung him over the saddle like a sack of oats. I took a rope and tied Clete’s hands and feet together under the horse’s belly. Checking to be sure that the cloth plugs I’d put into his wounds were still in place, I found that all but one had clotted up. I pressed the leaking one deeper into the bullet hole and we took off for the Square T.
As I rode towards the gate to the Square T, I pulled out my rifle and fired three shots into the air. Several hands came running out of the bunkhouse, rifles in hand. I saw Mister and Missus come out of the house armed as well. I rode to the gate and opened it.
“What happened, Logan?” Called one of the hands as he ran to me.
“They jumped us. Close the gate for me.”
I rode to the house and Mister ran up to me.
“I think he’s still alive, Mister! I tied his hands and feet together.”
Mister reached under Clete’s horse and undid the knots before dragging Clete off the saddle. As he did so, Clete groaned.
“He’s alive!” Mister yelled.
Missus ran up to them and took hold of Clete’s feet as they fell off of the saddle. With Mister gripping Clete under his arms and Missus latched on to his boots, the Tuckers took Clete into the house. I took up the reins of the horses and led them to the stable. After taking the saddle off of the gelding, I got him turned out into the corral and he headed for the water trough.
Returning to the stable, I went to my pinto. He’d saved my life and I needed to show my appreciation. Removing his saddle and the hackamore, I brushed him down and fed him a couple of slices of dried apple I always kept near his stall, then I let him out in the corral. He got out about twenty feet and hit the ground for a relaxing roll. After three good rolls he almost jumped to his feet and came to me. I held out my arms and the horse lay his head over my right shoulder. I scratched up behind his ears and rubbed his neck.
It occurred to me that I’d need to check his forefeet. I’d never bothered to have him shoed and he hit the Bolt brother so hard I was afraid he might have damaged his hoof. I lifted each foreleg and checked the hoofs in the lantern light of the barn. I saw the dark stain of dried blood on his front right hoof. I ripped up some grass and tried to clean the hoof but it was too dried in place.
I walked over to the water trough and the pinto followed me like a good dog would. I dipped up some water and washed off his hoof while he took in a good amount of water. When I was done, I set his hoof down and gave him another good scratch behind his ears and along his neck. When I was done he blew and shook his head before jumping back away from me and proceeding to run and buck and jump around the corral.
He was playing like a colt, tossing his head about and kicking to the left and right. I smiled and laughed at his antics and turned to go to the house and check on Clete.
“What the hell did you two get into up there with the herd?”
It was Blue yelling with Cookie from the cookhouse. The two of them and Clete went back a few years, so I took the time to walk to them. I got a cup of coffee and we sat while I told them the whole story. Blue interrupted me a few time with questions and looked at me with amused amazement when I told him about killing one of the men with the lance and killing another with my horse. Cookie sat in silence and shook his head repeatedly.
“I’m not really taking credit for that last fella. The pinto took it to his head and body without so much as a finger point from me. I’m starting to think that I got myself a hell of a horse when I killed that Kiowa. He really does follow me around like a good dog.”
“Son, you need to get a string of really good mares and get that stallion to get you a mess of good colts. That horse has some sort of gift. A strong line like that would be worth a lot of money.”
“Not a bad idea, Blue. But right now I want to get over to the house and check on Clete.”
“Thank you for saving him,” Cookie said quietly. “Clete and I done rode the river together. He’s one of the few men I’d trust my life with.”
“I consider him a good friend, too, Cookie. I couldn’t have left him up there to fend for himself. I’ll see you two later.”
I walked out of the cookhouse and could have sworn that I heard one of them sniffle. When an old timer like Blue or Cookie tells you that he thought a man was one to ride the river with, that man was a hell of a man. I knocked on the door to the house and heard Missus’ voice.
“Come on in, Logan!”
I opened the heavy wooden door and for the first time noticed the scars on the wood surface. It looked like the door had withstood bullets, spears and arrows. The door weighed a ton. No one was going to break down that door with anything smaller than a battering ram.
Inside I followed the sound of the voices and soon I was walking upstairs to find Clete in bed looking like death was holding his hand. He was white as a sheet and Missus was busy washing his legs around the two bullet holes. She’d already bandaged up the wound to his side. She looked at me and smiled.
“I had a feeling that you were going to be a good man, Logan. You did the right thing staying and fighting with Clete. Plugging those wounds saved his life. Where’d you learn to do that?”
“I never learned it, Missus. It just seemed that he had blood coming out and the thing to do was to keep it in. He was bleeding and stopping the bleeding was the most important thing. His clothes were loose so I stuffed the holes. Like I said, it seemed what to do.”
“Well you did well, Logan. Now then, who were the shooters?”
“No idea. I was thinking Kiowa at first or it could have been Bolts. After all the shooting and stuff, it was too dark to go looking and I wanted to get Clete back here. I figured I’d get some sleep and grub and head out after daybreak. If critters ain’t got to them I’ll see if I can identify them.”
“OK. Go turn in and take care of yourself. I’ll let Blue know that you’re riding out early.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said as I turned to leave.
“Thanks ... pard.”
A whisper came from behind me. Clete was too weak to even turn his head towards me.
“I told you, Clete. I don’t leave friends behind. I’ll see ya later.”
I walked over to the bunkhouse and fell into my bunk without even taking off my boots or gun belt.
I woke up. There was no noise. No sounds at all. I rolled away from my pistol and set my booted feet on the floor. Now I could hear the sound of snoring coming from the far end of the bunkhouse. I realized a few things right off. First, I was awake. Wide awake. Second, I had no urge to lay back down. Third, I was hungry. I slowly stood and allowed my eyes to get used to the very dim lantern light.
I picked up my rifle and checked my pistol to be sure it was still fully loaded. Feeling the chill in the air, I felt around to the other side of my bunk and found my hat and coat on the peg. I put them on and quietly walked towards the door. Opening it, the first thing I saw was light coming from the cookhouse. I quietly closed the door behind me and quickly headed for the smell of breakfast and coffee.
The surprise on my face must have shown because when I entered the room and saw a dozen hands eating and looking at me. A few of the men chuckled when they saw me.
“Come on in Logan. We sorta started without you. Figured you needed a little more sleep before we all went out to the old oak.”
“The old oak?” I asked.
“Yeah, the oak where Clete and you got attacked. We call it that. Did you think Missus was gonna let you ride out there alone? We’re just going along to be sure you don’t cause any more trouble.”
What could I say? I took out a plate and filled it with the biscuits and gravy and bacon. After setting it down where some of the men pointed. I sat at the head of the table and someone brought me a big cup of coffee and a knife and fork. I looked at the men and thanked them before setting to it.
No one was talking and that concerned me after I got up to get my second cup of coffee and looked at all the hands and said, “When were you planning on getting started?”
“Well, sir. The sky just to the East is just now turning pink so we can start as soon as you’re ready.”
“I just need another cup of coffee and I thought I smelled cornbread but didn’t see any.”
“Hold your horses, Logan,” Blue yelled from the kitchen. “Cookie just got it out the oven. I’ll have a good bit of it for you and the boys to take with ya.”
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