Chapter 7

Brett and Miss Rhonda both agreed that it would better if they kept their relationship a secret. In Brett's view it would save him from any accusation of bias in the range war. From Rhonda's perspective, she needed more time to butter up her daddy who didn't hold with any lawmen or bounty hunters.

He let his mount set the pace on the way back into town so he could think over the events of the past two or three days. The fact that he had gotten hired as the sheriff was uppermost in his mind. It seemed like this might be the place where he finally managed to sling his hook after years of mindless drifting from town to town. He was tired of fighting other people's wars and hunting down the scum of the earth. His brain was telling him it was time for him to slow down and smell the flowers. He hoped that Miss Rhonda would be the one who would finally tie him down to family life because he had no memory of ever being a family and knowing the joy of a lasting relationship.

His thoughts were still a mite muddled because he had the habit of shuffling his female partners like a deck of cards comparing them over and over again. There was no doubt Miss Rhonda came up aces every time but the visual pictures of the Preacher's wife's pretty bottom rising up to greet his hard cock and the image of Clementine bending over and hugging the tree inside the wood-line stirred his juices when he should be thinking about no other female than the pretty Miss Rhonda.

That was the reason why he committed the unforgivable sin of neglecting to scope out the high ground near the trail and why a heavy piece of lead tore into his shoulder muscle and knocked him out of the saddle. He remembered his only thought as he fell to the hard ground was it was extremely lucky to not be in his shooting hand.

He was trying to stay still and motionless hoping to forestall an insurance round to make sure he was finished. His horse made things difficult by lowering his head and nudging his head to wake him up from the unusual nap he was taking in the middle of the deserted trail. He wanted to shout out and tell him to leave him be but that would defeat his purpose of playing possum.

He heard the unmistakable jingle of spurs and the muffled tread of a horse's hooves descending the rise on the foothills side of the trail and he sensed the approach of a cautious back-shooter rather than actually seeing him. His horse snorted and he heard a reply from the unknown mount. He judged the varmint to be within pistol range and swiftly turned over drawing his six-shooter from the holster in a flowing motion and aiming at the ugly bearded hulk on the back of a magnificent appaloosa with pretty markings. His first shot took the man right between the eyes even though he was aiming for his big belly.

His other hand was dangling uselessly and he took off his bandana to bind up the holes as it went straight through in a fortunate turn of circumstances. He emptied his canteen to wash out both sides and then used a little of his spare rotgut to help out. The sting of the stuff was almost as bad as the shock of being shot or at least a close second. He stripped the yahoo of his gunbelt and took the contents of his pockets with him before he rolled him into the ravine at the side of the trail. Brett figured bushwhackers did not deserve the dignity of a burial and he was in no shape to be digging anyway. The man had a wanted poster in his pocket with his own likeness and it proclaimed him to be "Devil Dan" the murderer of two Pinkerton men over in Utah. He wondered what strange quirk of fate had placed him waiting on the side of the trail to put a bullet through the new sheriff.

When he arrived back in town, he went to the home of his former landlady Rachel and just smiled as she started fussing over his wound making sure it was cleaned proper with hot water and even tore up one of her favorite petticoats to make a bandage to dress it against infection. Then, she finished giving him a bath all over since her husband, the preacher, was out at the railhead looking to find some donations for his newly constructed church. After he was all nice and clean, she gently hopped onboard his stiff cock for a slow ride to keep him from getting too agitated in his condition. Brett found that the slower and gentler she stroked him with her vaginal channel, the more he wanted to slam her down on the floor and bang her in a frenzy. Thankfully, his juices exploded before he was driven to that dubious feat and Rachel purred with complete satisfaction leaving him drained of all physical urges. She was still humming when the preacher returned. He took one look at Brett and stomped up to his study to prepare a new sermon about fornication and adultery. He always felt a bit better after writing one of those sermons because he had to detail all of the depraved ways one can sin in the lusting of the flesh.

Brett made his way over to the jail and fell into his bed for a quiet night's sleep. The saloon was not busy because all of the cowboys and hard-cases were being sent to various locations by the cattle barons to hinder the settlers from taking more of the free range land. The girls upstairs were resting up after the previous weekend's orgy and hoping the red marks and bruises on their bottoms would disappear before the new surge of customers came into town. One of the girls had two black eyes but she insisted that she "fell down the stairs" when Brett questioned her about it. He had discovered from one of the talkative "sisters" that it was a pair of Mexican half-breeds called Miguel and Hernando who had used the girl roughly and at some length. To add insult to injury, they had not paid for their evening's entertainment and stolen two bottles of rotgut without settling the bill. They were on the top of his list for making an arrest in the near future.

The next morning, Rachel came to the jail with a breakfast of fresh baked biscuits and thick sliced bacon. She changed his bandage and told him,

"It is sure looking a lot better, Brett. You were real lucky it went all the way through."

He knew it was a stroke of good fortune and thanked his stars that he was able to survive the ambush.

Since he was already hard as a rock, Rachel decided to take him into her mouth and he leaned back and watched her face bobbing happily on his grateful cock. He ran his hands through her silky hair and tilted her head back so he could look into her eyes when he had to finally let his load drain into her mouth with a sense of satisfaction and joy. She swallowed it all and even licked him clean before heading back to her bed and breakfast for the other guests. Her husband usually slept until almost noon so she considered the morning hours to be her own and was happy the moody man was nowhere around to bother her.