You Can Depend on a Mule - Cover

You Can Depend on a Mule

Copyright© 2018 by aubie56

Chapter 3

The winter was a real dud as far as excitement was concerned. The weather was lousy with heavy rain. There was even one of those storms that people was calling something like “hurrycane.” I do not understand the real meaning behind that word, but I will admit that the wind sure did hurry! There was a lot of water dropped from the sky, but we did not have a dangerous amount of flooding like some places did. I hear that it was real rugged along the Gulf coast, but things petered out before they got to us, thank God.

I think that there winter was harder on Ada than it was on me. At least, I got to sit in a saloon and hear the gossip while I played penny-ante poker. I ain’t good enough at poker to play for higher stakes, but at least I have got the sense to realize that and not press my luck until it deserts me. I did take Ada out every day it was not raining hard, but sometimes we still got pretty wet. Oh, well, we survived, and that is what counted.

By the time spring finally came, it was like the gates opened to heaven and let everything dry out. The spring turned out real nice and pretty much made us forget about the miseries of winter. Well, it affected Ada and me that way, anyhow. Ada and I took off for the high road as soon as the ground was dry enough. The roads were still wet enough that a wagon with a heavy load still cut deep ruts, but the teamsters just added more mules to the wagon and kept going. Seeing how hard some of those animals worked sure made me glad I was not a mule!

The first bandits we met had stopped a stagecoach and were in the process of robbing the passengers when I showed up. The shotgun guard was dead, but the driver only had a minor wound on his left arm. He was still in condition to drive if he moved slowly. He was still sitting in the driver’s box, but under guard. The passengers, four men and one woman, were standing beside the open door of the stage, and it looked like the woman was about to be raped.

Her dress was off, and she was lying on it on the damp ground. I noticed that she was still dressed for winter chill because she was wearing a pantaloon on each leg. They did not have to come off because her pussy was bare between the pantaloons. Her pussy was uncovered so that she could still piss or shit without having to remove the pantaloons. That was a convenience because the pantaloons were held on her with tie-strings.

Two men were holding their guns on the other passengers while one man was getting ready to stick his hard cock into the woman’s pussy. Well, it was obvious that the woman was not in favor of that, and I could see that one of the male passengers was damned agitated over the prospect of the woman being raped. I could not stand by and let the poor woman be raped, so I drew my shotgun-pistol and fired at the potential rapist. I hit him in the back just below the shoulder blades and changed his mind real quick. The other three bandits were caught by surprise and slow to react. I guess they were kind of rusty because it was early in the year.

Anyway, I was close enough that it would have been hard to miss any of the bandits, and I hit each one with one shot from my shotgun. Them hog-loads did exactly what they were supposed to do and tore the bandit’s flesh all to hell. One of the bandits was a little slow to die, and one of the male passengers, the one who had been so agitated, seemed to take a lot of pleasure in kicking the fatally wounded man until he died. As I expected, that passenger turned out to be the woman’s husband.

The woman was not hurt and got to her feet by herself. She slipped her dress back on, even though it was sopping wet on the back. Her husband went to the coach’s boot and pulled out her bag. He helped her climb into the coach and handed her the bag. She closed the door and let down the curtains while she changed to the dry dress. Meanwhile, the other passengers congratulated her husband on her escape from the rape.

Naturally, they all thanked me for killing the bandits and helped me tie them on their horses. This must have been their first robbery of the year because I did not find enough money in their pockets or moneybelts to buy a decent meal. Oh, well, it turned out that all four of the men were on wanted posters to a total of $105, and the stagecoach company was paying a bounty of $25 for each dead bandit. All of that combined with what I could get for selling their horses and other stuff was going to make a nice little profit for me.

The horses were hitched to the rear of the coach, and the driver drove slowly enough to the relay station that there was no problem there. I got my receipt from the relay station manager that I had indeed killed four bandits in the process of robbing the stage. That was all I needed to collect the bounty from the stagecoach company.

I rode ahead into the next town to get my receipt from the local marshal for the four wanted men and to sell what I could. All told, I got $267.17 from that morning’s work. I figured that put me ahead even if I got no more road agents for the rest of the month. Actually, I figured to find a road agent at least every third day because they would be running out of money from being idle over the winter, and they had to make hits just to have money for food. At least, that was my previous experience.

As expected, the rest of the day and the next were dry, but on the third day I ran into a passel of bandits. The first two were holding up a man, and Ada warned me about them in plenty of time. Shit, these were two mean galoots: not only were they taking the man’s horse and money, but they were taking his clothes. I suspected that was just for the fun of it, but the man would be left naked in the middle of nowhere if I did not step in.

Well, I was easy to convince. I dismounted and walked up to the two robbers. Both of them had their back toward me, so I caught them by surprise. It was really stupid of them to be so careless, but it did make matters easier for me. As soon as I was close enough, I shot both bandits in the back before they could notice me. Hell, giving them “fair” warning would have made me just as stupid as they were!

I told the robbery victim to put his clothes back on and to get away as soon as he could. Meanwhile, I whistled up Ada to stand guard for me while I looted the two road agents and checked to see if they were on wanted posters. They were, but the total was only $25. I was a little pissed off at that small return until I looked in their moneybelts and saddlebags. By damn, they were loaded with money.

Between the two, I found over $600. I wondered where all of this money had come from, but I never did find out. Oh, well, that did not keep me from claiming it. I also wondered why they were still robbing people on the road when they were already practically rich. I guess that they really were as stupid as I had first thought.

By the time I had collected the bounty and sold the horses and such, I had too much gold to be hauling around the backwoods of Texas. I deposited what I had in the bank and stopped off at a saloon for a Mexican beer. As I was leaning against the bar enjoying my beer and talking to the bartender, who should walk in but Jimmy the Greek. I recognized him from the wanted poster what had a bounty of $275 on his head. Dammit, my luck was really with me on this day!

He came in with two other galoots what looked like hard cases, too. I quickly finished my beer. At 12¢ a bottle, that stuff was too damned expensive to let it go to waste. By then, the three men were all drinking beer, so it was a good time to brace them. I stepped away from the bar a pace or two and said, “I am a bounty hunter, and you three men are under arrest.” I had already drawn my shotgun-pistol and was pointing it at the three men.

What I was holding sure did not look like an ordinary gun, so that must of emboldened the three men. All three tried to draw on me, so what did I do? Why, I fired, of course. The range was about 10 feet or so, and those big lumps of shot landing together tore a massive hole in each man. All three were dead before they hit the floor, and there was a relatively small puddle of blood for the swamper to clean up.

This was in Dallas, and a deputy marshal happened to be just down the street talking to somebody. He heard the roar of the three shotgun shots and came running to see what was going on. Like any sensible man, he stopped before actually coming inside the saloon and called out to hear if the shooting was over. I answered him, and he came in.

I told him my story and showed him that each of the three men had tried to draw their guns. The bartender backed me up, so the deputy marshal declared me to have fired in self defense. He sent the swamper for the undertaker. I went through their pockets and came up with a surprising amount of money. I took the money and weapons and left the rest for the swamper and undertaker to squabble over. He gave me the receipts for the dead men when I showed him the wanted posters I had pulled from my saddlebag.

One of the things I found was a railroad timetable with a late afternoon train departure marked. I did not know if they planned to rob that train or if they were going to ride it somewhere, so I let that matter go. They did not have any horses tied up at the hitching rail in front of the saloon, so somebody must of inherited three horses kind of out of the blue. Oh, well, I was going to pick up $435 in reward money from the state, so I let it go.

Man, I was really coming to appreciate my shotgun-pistol—it had not failed me yet. Of course, if it had, I would probably be dead. I decided that it would be a good idea to visit Aaron and have him look over the pistol to make sure that it was not showing signs of wear. I had been religious about keeping it clean and oiled, so I was not expecting trouble, but I figured that I had a little time now to have it checked.

I walked into Aaron’s shop, and he greeted me like a long-lost friend. Well, I kind of felt the same way about him. I told him why I had stopped by, and he looked at the weapon. He spent about half an hour going over it and pronounced it in good condition. Sure, there was some wear, but there was nothing of importance.

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