Mat Billy and the dogs 8
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Mat Sullivan(2)Chapter 5 free porn video
I was having fun with my new binoculars. I had picked them up on my last visit to Las Cruces. I happened to be in a general store when a bedraggled man walked in looking to sell some odds and ends he had in a bag. I didn't know if the items were stolen, but who could tell? Any way, the man wanted to sell the binoculars he claimed he had found by the trail. Neither the shopkeeper nor I really believed that, but it made a workable story. Anyway, the shopkeeper bought the binoculars, and I walked up and asked to see them.
The binoculars were marked as made in Switzerland and to be "4.5x." I wasn't sure what that meant, but I did like the magnification I saw with them. I bought them for a reasonable price and went on my way.
I used every opportunity and excuse to look through the binoculars. Therefore, it wasn't surprising that I was looking through them on that occasion; what was surprising was what I saw. There was a naked Indian staked out, spread eagled, on his back and his cock and balls were cut off! What the Hell? I pulled my saddle carbine to the ready position and rode over to see what was going on. When I got closer, I spotted a naked Indian woman staked out near him the same way with her belly slit open. They were both dead. This was the punishment for adultery, and I wanted nothing to do with it, so I left as fast as my horse could move.
It was still the time for Mexican bandits, but getting a little late in the season. I was particularly careful, since they liked to prey on travelers. Therefore, it was almost normal to find some along this road. However, I didn't expect to find two chasing after a buckboard being driven by a lone woman. You just don't see lone women out on lonely roads, especially when bandits might be around, which was most of the time. She was whipping the horse and racing as fast as she could, but the horse was tiring, so it wouldn't be long before the bandits caught up. The bandits were firing their pistols and laughing, so it was obvious that they were out more for fun than devilment. But the woman would be just as raped and just as dead when they caught her as she would be if they were serious.
I figured that I had better take a hand before this lark went too far. They were racing toward me, so I moved off the road a little way and drew my rifle. I was comfortably nestled among some trees when the woman came racing by. The bandits were very close by now, so I shot them both before they even knew I was there.
The woman jerked her head around when she heard the different sound of the rifle. This caused the horse to veer off the road and come to a stop. I mounted my horse, sheathed my rifle, and rode over to her. I tipped my hat and inquired into her health. She stared at me a moment and fainted! Now, of all of her possible reactions, I'll admit that I was surprised at that one. I jumped from my horse and ran to her side. I was afraid that she had been shot by the bandits; but that was not the case. I led the buckboard to the nearby stream and tied the horse where it could drink and graze.
I picked the woman from the buckboard and lay her on the ground by the stream. She woke up after a few minutes and I gave her a drink of water. I asked her, again, how she was feeling and she started crying. This time I figured out that it was in relief. I held her hand until she cried herself out. I then asked her how she happened to be driving alone.
She explained that she was a self-employed working girl. It seems that the local ladies of the Baptist Church took exception to her way of earning her living and paid her a visit. As it happened, she was entertaining a client as the ladies burst into the room. They did not allow her to get dressed; just to throw a dress over her head and put on her shoes. She did manage to grab her purse with all her earnings before she was ushered out the door. The church ladies did have the courtesy to provide transportation as they sent her out of town.
At this point, she pulled her dress up to her waist and I saw that she was telling me the truth about her clothing, or lack thereof. She said that she wanted to reward me for saving her life, but she had only one method of payment. Naturally, being a gentleman, I took her up on her generous offer.
A couple of hours later, I went back to the scene of the action and stripped the bandits of valuables and took their horses. I then accompanied the lady as she drove to the next town to look for a hotel room.
As usual, I spent some time in the local saloon looking for information. This being Saturday, there was a lively crowd about, and a grand time was had by all. Unfortunately, all I got for my time was some pleasant conversation; the poker table was full and there was no sign of a chair opening up. I left about midnight for my bed.
The next morning I left in the general direction of Deming. It was a pleasant little place and I was under no pressure to get anywhere. This time of year, the high desert is a nice place if you don't get caught in a flash flood. The Monsoon season can be very windy (that's what "Monsoon" means) so you have to be prepared for sandstorms. They normally peter out in a few hours, but a sandstorm can last for a couple of days. In that case, you can be in serious trouble. At first, I thought that I would just ride out the one I was caught in, since the wind was coming from my back. But, it became obvious that I was going to have to hole up somewhere just to save my horse. I looked around as much as I dared, hoping to find a suitable place to get us out of the wind and the sand.
Finally, I spotted a low cliff that looked promising. I made sure it was not a part of a watercourse, and gratefully hunkered down. I hobbled my horse, stripped off the saddle, and put on her feedbag. I figured to give her some water later. Once we were out of the wind and the constant pelting by the sand, I was able to relax for a little while.
I gave my horse some water and fixed myself a cold supper. No way was I going out in that storm to look for firewood. I looked for signs of rattlesnakes and found none, so I put down my groundsheet and my blanket, and, using my saddle for a pillow, went to sleep.
Nothing disturbed me during the night, so I woke up the next morning fresh and alert. Before I moved, I checked to see that I was not sharing my bed with any rattlers. The bed looked clear, so I shook my boots to clear any scorpions and put them on. The storm had stopped during the night and my horse looked relieved; I sure was. I fed both of us, and got ready to leave. I was just about to mount up when I heard a pistol go to full cock!
I froze in place and waited for the next step. A moment later, I heard a young boy's voice tremble out, "Don't move, Mister. I got you covered."
Now, I know how little pressure it takes to pull a trigger too far, so I didn't move. In a calm voice, I said, "OK, son, you've got the drop on me. What do you want?"
"Have you got any more food? I'm starving."
As far as I am concerned, there was only one answer to that. "Son, please point your gun away from me and I will fix you some breakfast. If you're worried about what I might do, just go sit on that tree stump. You'll have plenty of time to get your pistol around and shoot me, if you have to." I got some fixings from my saddle bag and built a new fire. Once I got the food and coffee ready, I put it down and moved away from the fire. "Breakfast is ready; come and get it," was hardly out of my mouth before he had started eating. He put the old double-barrel pistol down so he could use both hands to eat. I leaned over and pushed the pistol out of his reach and poured myself a cup of coffee.
Once his initial hunger had abated, he slowed down a bit. I asked him what had happened to put him out here in the middle of nowhere.
He said, "My folks were camped by a water hole near the road and I went out to get some firewood. While I was out, the sandstorm came up so fast that I couldn't find my way back to camp. I've been wandering around for two days in this storm trying to find my family and now I don't know what to do."
I asked his name and his age.
He said, "My name is Jethro Pew, and I'm eight years old." He then started to cry.
"Well, son, you are powerful lucky to be alive after nearly two days in a storm like that. I think that we can find your family if they haven't gotten lost, too. There aren't many waterholes along this road, so we should be able to find them today or tomorrow."
The look of relief on his face would have lit up all of Santa Fe.
We got on my horse and headed for the road. Once there, we headed southwest to the first waterhole. His family was not there, so we headed back northeast toward Deming. The next waterhole was also empty, but I told Jethro not to get discouraged, it was possible to wander a long way in a sandstorm. We were in luck; his family was at the next waterhole.
Talk about a happy little boy! I thought he was going to break some necks, he was hugging so hard. After the celebration had died down, I asked where they were headed. Mr. Pew said "Deming" so I offered to ride along. This was agreeable to everybody, especially Jethro. We had a pleasant conversation as we rode along, Jethro in the wagon and me on my horse. We talked about many things, but never about being lost in a sandstorm.
The sandstorm had played Hell with the vegetation, except for the cacti. All of the leaves were stripped off the trees, and the bark showed a lot of wear and tear. Most of the cacti was soft enough or flexible enough to bend with the wind and absorb the impact of the sand. I knew that the trees would recover soon enough, but they certainly did look strange.
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