Chapter 1

It was an unremarkable day. The early afternoon sun bore down from an almost cloudless sky, with just a few scattered wispy clouds breaking up the blue of the sky. While not as hot as it would have been a couple of months earlier at midsummer, it was still more than just warm.

The landscape was unremarkable too. The arid landscape was made up of a mixture of sparse clumps of grass, scraggly-looking bushes and a few stunted trees. While not flat, the ground undulated gently although, in the distance, larger hills led back to higher mountains, indistinct due to the heat haze and dust in the atmosphere.

That dust was being stirred up by the hooves of the horse. Not much, as the horse wasn't moving very fast. Ambling rather than walking, it was holding a steady path across the hard ground which was covered by a layer of fine, dusty sand. There was nothing particularly remarkable about the horse either. A bay stallion of a decent size, he had a white blaze on his nose and a white sock on his left foreleg. He didn't look particularly tired, it was more that he was used to this steady gait which must have been going on for some time and would likely continue for the rest of the day, eating up the ground at a measured rate.

Sitting on the horse was a man. Not moving, except to sway with the steady gait of the horse, he was dressed in the style of the time and place. Pants that had been dark blue once were now faded, the colour further muted by the dust in the air. A check shirt, probably originally red and white, was worn with the sleeves rolled halfway up tanned and muscular arms. A buckskin vest, plain and unadorned, covered most of the shirt. A Stetson-style hat, which probably started life black, was pulled down at the front, shading the rider's eyes and concealing his face.

He sat on what seemed to be a western-style saddle but, for the first time, a knowledgeable observer could notice something unusual. The horn, commonly protruding high on the front of the saddles of working cowhands so that they could fasten ropes to it, was smaller and less prominent. And the stirrups seemed to be a little further forward than convention dictated, although with the rider's legs in the way and his high heeled boots in the stirrups it was difficult to tell for certain. However, this did not seem to be a saddle for working cattle, but one designed to spread the rider's weight more evenly on the horse's back, and allow him to shift his weight forward when covering a lot of ground quickly.

Behind the saddle was a bedroll, tied on, and a rifle could be seen carried in a boot on the left side with its butt angled forward and upwards, so it would avoid the horse's neck.

Seated as he was, it was impossible to accurately judge the rider's height. He seemed to be matched for size with his horse but, as he sat upright although slightly slouched in the saddle, a better measurement was impossible.

The horse continued moving forward at a steady pace. There was no obvious guidance from the rider, but the horse knew what general direction he was taking and carried on at a reasonable pace, his hooves just kicking up the dust.

--:-- A scream broke the silence of the afternoon. High pitched, and seemingly not too distant, it was cut off as suddenly as it had started.

The rider's head jerked up, looking over towards the scrub to his right from where the scream had seemed to come. At the same time, the horse's ears pricked forward and he too turned his head towards the source of that shocking sound. Moving as one, horse and rider wheeled to the right and plunged into a gap between two of the bushes.

No sooner were the pair in the bushes than they stopped and the rider swung down from the saddle. He didn't want to ride into possible danger without knowing what he faced. Dropping the reins, the two unattached pieces hung down towards the ground. He knew that his horse, a travelling companion for many years, wouldn't move far.

Reaching under his vest with his right hand, he drew a revolver from a cross-draw holster mounted on his left side. Cocking it, the trigger, which had previously been concealed, sprang into view underneath. Walking carefully, the man pushed forward into the undergrowth.

As he started to emerge from the other side, he could take in what was happening. A man was standing in a clear area which was partly covered by scrappy grass and partly bare dirt. Scruffily dressed, he was looking towards an area of small bushes and rough grass on the far side of the clearing.

Two horses, still saddled, were tethered to a bush behind him. Further to the left, two unsaddled horses were standing beneath a small tree.

There was movement over on the far side, where the first man was looking. Something pale was moving, but the rider at first couldn't work out what. He could hear grunting too, and panting, and some more high-pitched noises. Suddenly there was a curse, and another man reared up into view.

"She bit me," he shouted, while at the same time someone else let out a wail and another scream. The man's arm rose and fell, there was the sound of a loud impact, and the wails stopped abruptly.

"Give it 'er good," encouraged the scruffy man standing in the clearing as the rider watching from the bushes worked out what he was seeing. The pale movement was the second man's bottom, and he was raping someone underneath him!

Pushing clear of the undergrowth, and holding his revolver in front of him, he shouted out so both men could hear him: "Stop that right now."

Spinning round, the observer in the clearing reached for some kind of pistol at his belt. "Who do you..." he started, but that was all he had time for as the rider shot him in the chest. A puff of dust showed where the bullet struck him, and he fell over backwards.

The man on the ground lurched up and turned over. He too made a movement the rider didn't trust, reaching for some kind of weapon, and another shot rang out. The man continued rolling over onto his other side and stayed still.

A hush descended on the clearing. Nothing moved, and even the local wildlife had been frightened into silence by the sound of the shots.

Treading carefully, and keeping his cocked revolver held ready, the shooter moved over to the first man, lying on his back in the centre of the area. Trying to watch both men at once, he took a quick look down. One glance at the open mouth and staring eyes told him that this one was no further threat.

A few more cautious paces took him to the second man. His face was turned away into the dirt, but a kick rolled him back so that his sightless eyes came into view. This one would not be causing any more trouble either. He lay on his back, scruffy and unshaven from the waist up, with his pants pulled down to below his knees. His penis, now lying limp and largely covered by rough hair, looked damp and messy.

Lying alongside the man, and equally still, was a girl. Totally naked, she lay in the dirt with pieces of cloth and buckskin scattered around. She seemed young, with long hair in disarray and pale brown skin.

Looking once more around the clearing, alert for any more movement or threat, the man crouched down beside her. She was breathing, but had obviously been knocked unconscious by the blow he had witnessed earlier. Her skin was scratched and blotchy in several places and her face was starting to swell and darken. Her groin too was wet and messy. She had obviously been used recently, although that was obvious from what the observer had seen earlier.

Chapter 2 »