Domestication of a Parisian Bourgeois
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Dome's Early LightChapter 3 free porn video
Hey, wait a minute. If this guy was on a wanted poster, then his friends might also be similarly immortalized. In that case, I should look into capturing them before I abandoned the opportunity that I had been offered. I figured that my best bet was to haul this corpse to my camp and hide it from scavengers before I went after anybody else. I did that as quickly as possible. I wrapped the body in a blanket to cut down on the smell of blood and hid the body on a natural shelf of rocks. Now I was ready to find the rest of the “friends.”
I hurried back to where I had shot the man and angled off northeast in the direction that he had pointed. His indication was quite accurate, and I found the camp I was looking for within two hours. Uh-oh, nobody was around. The camp looked like it had been occupied by four men, and I wondered why it was out in the open the way it was, except for a few trees. It was not long before I found out the answer to that question.
I was still studying the empty camp from a safe place when I heard the sound of approaching horses moving fairly fast. I ducked farther back into my hiding place and watched three men ride up while herding six horses. These horses were put into a rope corral, and the men gathered around the campfire while one man made some fresh coffee. I pulled out the binoculars that I had stored in my gun safe and studied the men’s faces. A check of my wanted posters showed that all of these men were wanted for horse theft. That was a hanging offense, and the reward totaled $85. This was definitely worth my time!
I took my shotgun and moved closer to the camp. Uh-oh, my stupid horse took that opportunity to snort, and all three men drew their pistols and looked in my direction. I had not yet disappeared behind a tree, so the men had a clear view of me, and they started shooting. Shit, I had no alternative, not that I was looking for one, but my excuse for shooting had just been handed to me.
None of the men had yet taken cover, so I had a free shot coming up. I arbitrarily picked one of the men and aimed at his gut. I was close enough that the ball of the buck and ball hit him just below his belly button. That was the end of him, and I now had only two men to fight. Both men dove to the ground, but there was little for them to hide behind.
One of the men was coming a little closer with his shots than was the other man, so you can guess who I went for next. Both men were hiding behind saddles, so I did not have a clean shot at either torso. I didn’t want to shoot them in the head because that would make it potentially impossible to identify them for a reward. The only thing left was legs. I was never reluctant to use the laser designator when it was appropriate, so I lined up on the more dangerous man’s legs and fired. The ball went between his legs and made a nice hole in the ground, but one of the buckshot did catch him in the lower left leg on the bone. The bone shattered and the man reflexively rose into the air. This time, I was able to put a ball into his chest, and only one buckshot hit him in the head. His face was still identifiable, so I was okay with him.
Meanwhile, the other man had used up all five of the bullets in his revolver and was madly changing the cylinder to a fully loaded one. That gave me the few seconds that I needed. I stepped away from the tree a few feet and put a ball into his right hip. He lurched as he screamed in pain, and his gun went flying. Hell, with that kind of wound, the man was as nearly dead as he was likely to get while he was still breathing. I did not hesitate to put a ball into his back as he lay in the dirt.
Okay, I now had three bodies to take care of, and I had to hurry before they started to decompose. That was something that happened fast when the weather was this hot, so I had to rush them back to Cheyenne while their faces could still be recognized.
It was quite a job for one man, but I managed to get them tied to saddles on horses with a lot of work. I looted the bodies before I wrapped them in blankets and picked up almost $40 in gold and silver coins in the process. Not only that, there was $732 in gold and silver in a bag in one of the saddlebags. It was not easy, but I managed to rig lead ropes for all of the horses and led them back to my camp. It was now too late in the day to make it all the way to Cheyenne before dark, so I pulled the bodies off the horses and stowed them in the depths of the cave. The horses spent the night in an enlarged rope corral. I had picked up some feed in the other camp, so I was able to take care of the horses’ needs. Water was available, and I was able to fix my supper and get to sleep.
The next day, I had to go through the aggravation of getting everything ready, but I managed it before mid-morning. I did make it back to Cheyenne before dark, and got my receipts from Marshal Brady. I paid him $2 to take care of returning the stolen horses, and I sold the rest. With the rewards and everything else, I now had enough money to join The Cheyenne Social Club. That night, I had a great meal and some very pleasant female company. Now, this was the way to live!
I was already starting to get a reputation around Cheyenne as a man not to be messed with. Furthermore, my next capture sealed my reputation as a man who could get things done. In this case, I was in a saloon nursing a beer and trying to learn the game of poker. So far, I had managed to keep myself even money-wise, but it was more work than I expected. The stakes were low in this game, but it was not a penny-ante affair by any means.
Anyway, we had been playing for about an hour, and I was ready for a break. As it turned out, the break was not the kind I was expecting. Four men came storming into the saloon, and one shouted, “WHERE THE HELL IS BART MCSWAIN? HE SHOT MY BROTHER, AND I DEMAND SATISFACTION!”
This was one of those challenges that no man of the times could turn down and maintain his self-respect. I laid my cards on the table and stood up. “I am Bart McSwain, and who are you accusing me of killing?”
“You killed John Chambers, and I aim to kill you, you bastard.”
“Hell, Chambers was shooting at me first, and I just protected myself.”
“You are a liar! Draw or die where you stand.” Chambers reached for his gun at his thigh, and I drew my revolver from the left holster. Of course I beat him, and I put one bullet into his chest just to the left of his breastbone. The hollow-point bullet did its thing and Chambers died of a monster hole in his heart. He did get off a shot, but the bullet only dug a hole in the floor. The expanded bullet never made an exit wound, so there was very little blood to clean up. Still, I tipped the swamper two-bits for his trouble.
Marshal Brady listened to the witnesses, and ruled that I was acting in self-defense. He did ask how I was able to kill Chambers with just one shot from such a small caliber gun. I explained about hollow-point bullets and showed him one. Everybody else in the saloon had to see. One man asked me where he could buy some, and I had to think fast. I said that they were custom made for me by an outfit in France, and it usually took over a year for an order to be delivered. That killed the interest right away. Man, I got away with one with that little fib.
We sat back down at the poker table and returned to playing. One of the players said, “Bart, you are going to have to watch your back now that you have them Fletcher boys after you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Them Fletcher boys are mean as a wet cat, and you just killed their best friend. I am sure that they would have drawn on you if you had not already had your pistol out and ready to shoot. They are liable to ambush you at any time, and their reputation is that they specialize in back shooting. Just be careful is all I say.”
Valentina
- 09.12.2021
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