Gunned Down

by Dale Chase

  Gunned Down

  By Dale Chase

  Published by JMS Books LLC

  Visit jms-books.com for more information.

  Copyright 2018 Dale Chase

  ISBN 9781634866026

  Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

  Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

  All rights reserved.

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  This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America.

  * * * *

  Gunned Down

  By Dale Chase

  Jack Milby has a kid maybe twenty in tow when he comes in and I’m thinking to call him on it, but he says it’s Evan Langer so I hold off. I’ve heard of the Langer brothers, and Jack says Bart’s been killed in a robbery, so it’s just Evan now and can he join up with us? Jack’s impulsive like that, doesn’t always think before he acts, but this time I let it go because the kid has a look that stirs me.

  “This here’s Roy Fitch,” Jack says, nodding my way, “and that’s Wade Farrow. They run this outfit.”

  Jack then states Evan’s case and Wade and me listen to how the robbery failed, which appears a repeat of what Evan has told Jack. I start getting how Jack and Evan maybe did more than talk because what I’m picking up off the kid is that used feel and I know Jack will get into anything that holds still. As he rambles on about Bart being gunned down in the bank and Evan getting away with the money, I’m hearing only half the story because I’m wondering if Evan took it standing, or did they stop and spread out on the ground? I’m liking such thoughts because they get me going. I’ll have to give it to Wade pretty soon.

  Jack has stopped talking and stands with a grin while the kid looks lost. He’s hurting from the loss of his brother who, being older, probably taught him everything he knows, and it makes me want to go to him, tell him how we all lose people along the way, put my arm around him, and stick my dick in his mouth.

  “Wade?” I ask because the two of us run things. “It’s fine with me if it is with you.”

  Wade is stretched out in a chair, whiskey bottle on his knee. He eyes the kid up and down, likely seeing what I do, maybe also getting that Jack’s had him.

  “Can always use a good man,” Wade says, and so it’s done, and I introduce Evan to the others. Being between robberies, two men have gone to see their women, one to his wife in Nevada, the other to a cat house in Greenlee. This leaves Wade and me plus Virgil Story and Dewey Quittman. Dewey’s been known to get up to stuff and I see him eyeing Evan while placing a hand to his crotch, like maybe he’s horse-dicked, which is wishful thinking on his part.

  Camp at present is on the Switzer ranch outside Greenlee, Utah, with Noble Switzer being cousin to Leland Mulkey, the one down at the cat house. Noble is married to Hannah, who gives him a brat every year, which now number eight. He lets us use a cabin on his spread. It’s not far from the house and next to a quiet river. For this, we give him a cut of our take and also help out with the horses. The cabin has no more than beds, stove, table, chairs, but it’s big enough for us all. Hannah, God love her, gives us meals at the house. I think Noble likes having outlaws under his roof. Hannah says he gets after her something awful when we’re around. I tell Noble to join up with us, that he’ll near come in his pants at robbing a bank, but he won’t budge. Good man, Noble. What we all would have been had we not gotten sidetracked early on.

  Evan goes to tend his horse, get his gear, and Jack goes with him. The kid is not real tall and looks to have a fine body, but it’s that head full of gold that strikes me most. When he first took off his hat it turned loose a bunch of curls that drew me to think how they’d feel on my fingers, even if they are badly in need of a comb. His face is much the boy even though he’s a man, bearing none of the creases the rest of us have earned. He appears untried when I know he’s not.

  The Langer brothers are known, Bart having killed the sheriff in Colby some time back, and they’ve maybe robbed more banks than us, but nobody’s keeping count. I know Bart was near my age, thirty-two. I glance at Wade, who takes a long pull of whiskey, and I think to comment on the kid but don’t because something in me is snagged right now, like I’ve run up against barb wire and dare not move. Or speak. Wade catches me looking, takes another pull, and announces he’s going to have a bath. When he gets up, I know to follow.

  The kid’s got me going, but that doesn’t matter now. Wade walks to the river, where he’ll strip and bathe, and where I’ll fuck him in the water. It’s a regular thing with us and, as it’s July and hotter than hell, doing it in the wet is relief in more ways than one.

  Wade and me have been keeping company three years now, running the gang and enjoying each other in the manly way because we found early on that neither of us chased women, which, in the long run, saves a man money and time. Wade and me get at each other a lot, but we also run the gang, plan the holdups. This was once robbing mostly trains since they carry a good haul, but times have changed. Here in 1895, the express companies employ Pinkerton men on the trains, so we only have banks to hit.

  Wade’s good with a gun, knows horses well, and fears no man, so he fits the life. He can be a hothead at times, but I find that particular fire appealing. Couple times, we’ve beat hell out of each other over things I can’t now recall, then fucked because our blood was up. Wade’s the opposite of the kid—darker, thicker, harder—but he’s just as handsome, though in a more grown up way. First sight of him, I was hooked. We got to it right off, behind the Lawson saloon in Greenlee, and have been together ever since.

  I allow some time to get to the river because I like to arrive when Wade’s full naked and fooling with himself. It’s not much of a river, just a snake of water maybe a foot deep running through a grove of cottonwood trees, but we like it because it’s far enough from the ranch house so the kiddies don’t see any nasty business that would cause Hannah to come down on us something awful. Anyway, I get to the river and Wade’s standing knee-deep, looking like a friendly bear because he’s hairy all down the front. His big pink dick is fine contrast to the fur, especially when, like now, it’s hard. He’s ignoring it as he washes the rest.

  At the water’s edge, I strip, which feels good, and I’m so hard down there, I’m aching. I grab my dick and work it some, which gets Wade looking. And grinning. He runs a hand around to his backside, like he’s washing, which he sure as hell is not. I splash into the water, grab him at the waist, and go at him so hard it would make a stallion proud. I’m not inside two seconds before he yells he’s coming, and too soon, I am, too, claiming my territory once again.

  When I’m done, I pull out and Wade straightens up, turns to me, and we embrace like always. Only time we do that is after a good round. Feels good to hold my man like that, close up for once, knowing my stuff is in him. He’s said how he likes that, whether in the saddle or back in the cabin, spunk sliding
down his leg to remind him what’s been in there.

  Wade and me don’t kiss, don’t have a mind to do such a thing. It’s not like with a woman where there’s red lips and big tits. Man don’t kiss another man, he just fucks and maybe rubs some. That’s enough for Wade and me, always has been.

  “Good one,” he says as he pulls on his cock, ample even when soft. I’ve sucked it sometimes, swallowed his stuff more than once, but don’t let him fuck me. No man mounts Roy Fitch.

  “Hell, yes,” I agree. “Best get back, though. I want to see that kid’s haul, make him pay his way in.”

  “We never made nobody else pay in.”

  “We never took a man who just robbed a bank.”

  Wade doesn’t argue.

  We dress and go back to the cabin, where we find Evan telling the tale of the bank job gone wrong. Virgil and Dewey listen, but when we come in, the kid stops.

  “Keep on,” I tell him because I know he’ll feel better for it. I rest on a bunk while Wade takes a chair and we hear how the kid saw his brother killed, a brother more like a father, and how he had no time to help, had to be quick, so he shot the killer and ran, money bag in hand. Says he kept riding till his horse nearly gave out.

  “Don’t know where I was then,” he says. His voice is softer than most and I wonder if that’s him not yet having faced what we all have. “Camped and slept with the money close. I needed it to get by, but hated it, too, being it cost Bart his life, and I came to see how I’m truly alone. Never had that before. For a time I thought to do myself in, such was my grief. Then I thought of going back to pay respects to Bart, but knew I couldn’t, so he’ll be put in some awful grave and I’ll never know where.

  “After a sleep, I rode on to Greenlee, where I met Jack in the saloon. He was friendly, which helped, that and the whiskey. After I’d got to know him some, I told him my story. That’s when he told me he was part of the Farrow gang and how he thought I’d be welcome. So that’s how I come to be here.”

  “That is a sad story,” offers Wade.

  I say nothing because I know the comment is meant to close talk of that and open up about Evan sharing his loot. Sure enough, after a minute, Wade does just as I expect.

  “You know, Evan, if you have big money on you when you join an outfit, it’s the custom to share it. None of us ever has more than the others. How much did you get from that bank?”

  “That’s the worst of it, losing Bart, and getting only four thousand. I’ve still got most of it.”

  “The fair thing would be for you to give over three thousand to us and we divide that among us, leaving you with the most. That way, things here remain more equal than not. What do you say?”

  Evan shrugs. “Sure. I think that’s fair.”

  He fetches his saddlebags, extracts the money, which Wade counts out, each of us getting a few hundred.

  Once this is done, Wade stands to slap Evan on the back. “You are now officially part of the Farrow gang. Welcome.”

  Nobody asks a man how he came to be an outlaw. I doubt any of us intended to be one. I suspect Evan fell into it because his brother was already robbing banks. I always thought I’d be a rancher, get me a spread, but I killed a man when I was fourteen, man who tried to steal my horse, and I ran away from home because of it. I tried to keep working the ranches, but there always came trouble and I had to kill another man, which made me see life was never going to let me settle. Then I met some men who were robbing trains and got in with them, learned the whole deal, not the least of which was that men do things with each other, which was most welcome since I was leaning that way.

  I’m liking that Evan and me share this, even though I don’t know for sure and probably never will, but I can think what I want and this is what I want.

  Wade passes him a drink and he downs it quick, has another, then looks to me, and for a second, holds my eye, his gaze steady as a rifle’s aim. I know then we will get up to it because that barb wire that had me snagged lets go its hold, leaving no wound, leaving a good feeling instead, hot like whiskey, filling more of me than just my dick. All in just a second before I look away to find Wade watching me.

  Jack tells the kid he smells something fierce, needs to bathe, and says how we do it in the river and he’ll take him there. When they set out, Wade looks my way because we know Jack means to have the kid again. I try not to show concern, what with Wade’s eyes on me, even though I feel a stab because it should be me instead of Jack having the kid.

  * * * *

  I’m drunk by the time Evan gets back. It’s after dark, the other men have gone up to Hannah’s supper, but I keep to the cabin with the bottle. Laid out on my bed, lamp low, I see Evan and Jack come in and want to kill Jack because of what he’s done, and I know he’s done it because he’s wearing a shit-eating grin. He adjusts his privates like to announce himself, should I have failed to get the situation. The kid shows no expression, just strips off his shirt and climbs into his bunk.

  “There’s supper up to the house,” I tell him.

  “Not hungry.”

  “I sure as hell am,” says Jack and goes out, never one to miss a meal.

  That leaves just Evan and me, and I can feel him there, never mind he’s across the room. I think on his hurt and his prospects, on him now being one of us, and I down the last of my whiskey, thinking him in with us is a good thing. My last thought before sleep takes me is on what’s in his pants.

  * * * *

  I wake in the night, get up to piss the bucket, and hear the familiar sound of a hand on a dick, the low grunts of a man about to come, and I think it’s the kid doing himself because he’s the most likely, being young. I also think how I’d like to go over and help him out, pull away his hand, get him into my mouth. I piss, then for a second or so, stand holding my cock, which starts to stiffen, but I tell myself no and get back to bed. I don’t sleep for some time, caught in thoughts of Evan’s young prick. Finally all is quiet, Evan satisfied, me worn out. I do like that he satisfied himself and sleeps that kind of sleep.

  * * * *

  It’s Jack who says we ought to rob the bank up in Kettner, Wyoming, but I know it’s not really him talking because he’s never come up with an idea since he joined us. It’s Evan who told him, which I confirm when I get the boy alone. He says he and his brother had scouted the place. “I told Jack about it,” he says, “and he wants to do the job, just him and me, but I don’t want that.”

  “How’s Kettner look?”

  “Ready. Bart said they’d never been hit, so we’d catch ‘em unawares.”

  “I’d want to see for myself.”

  “Sure. I could show you and Wade.”

  His mention of Wade is respect for the outfit and I like that, but I already know I’m not taking Wade. Kettner is a good hundred miles north, which is fine as we keep our robbing far from Greenlee so we stay well hid. It’s a good two-day ride, which gives the robbery appeal, as does the idea of getting off with the kid and maybe giving him a try.

  “Don’t need three men to scout a job,” I tell Wade when he questions the plan. “Evan knows the layout, so he should go. You stay here and keep Jack in line because he thinks he’s got a claim on the kid, which he don’t.”

  Leland Mulkey is back from seeing his woman, as is Harry Davenport, who supports a wife in Nevada. I gather everybody to lay out our plan. “Noble has some new stock, so you can work the horses while we’re gone.”

  The men don’t object as Noble Switzer is a value to us, and when he rustles horses, we help with rebranding and such. Noble takes a high risk with us on his property.

  I have a good go at Wade the night before Evan and me leave. We take bedrolls down by the river as it’s warm, and we’re at it much of the night. While I enjoy my man, I am aware it’s mostly me trying to settle Wade so he won’t bother about me being gone with another fellow.

  Evan is ready to leave when we get back to the cabin. Jack scowls, which I ignore so he’ll see his place, then we head ou
t with just bedrolls, canteens, and hardtack. Evan says there are towns on the way, so we don’t have to cook none. His spirits seem high, shed of grief, and I find appeal in him looking more colt than man.

  As we ride along, I try to recall the colt in myself, but at his age I was brawling more than not. In a way, he seems older than his years, but also younger, and much as I try to keep my mind to the task ahead, I drift all too often to thoughts of getting into him.

  We stop twice to rest the horses, and at the first of these, Evan starts to talk. He’s squatted with a stick in hand, drawing circles in the dirt. “Bart was looking to marry a woman over in Lovell. Said he’d give up outlawry, get him a spread, and settle down, so he’d be gone from me either way, with her or dead.”

  “What’d you plan to do once he married?”

  He shakes his head, runs a line through his circles, stands, and throws away the stick. “Bart never asked, but he never said come with him either, so I knew I’d be on my own.” He looks to me and I see grief in him again, but it’s not for Bart, it’s for himself, being cast out.

  “How long you been outlawing?”

  “Whole life.”

  I wait because I know there’s more, and after he looks around some, he gets to it. “I wanted to be like Bart from the first, him coming home with money, giving some to the folks, who were dirt poor, Pa sick most of the time. After supper, Bart and me would get away, just ride for a bit, and he’d tell me his adventures, which up against the life I knew was something no kid could resist. The folks tried to keep me to the straight and narrow, but I chafed at the bit, then ran away at fourteen and hooked up with Bart, who said I was old enough. He had two men in his gang, so we was four, but one got killed and the other ran off, so then it was just us.”

  “Fourteen. And how old are you now?”

  “Twenty come September.”

  The first number strikes me as much as the second because of me taking my fateful turn at fourteen. I like this sameness. “I come to it young as well. Suppose most do.”