The Return of Jake Slater

by Zavo

  “That was smooth, Jake. We make a good team.”

  “We’re not out of this yet, Ezekiel. This office doesn’t have a back door, so we have to risk going out the front. There’s no other way. Follow me.”

  We started slowly down the hall, pausing as we neared the end of it to assess the situation. It was then that a series of noises reached my ears. They were oddly familiar in their repetition.

  I peered around the corner into the main office, and what I saw made my jaw clench. Seth was sitting in Nathaniel’s chair, his pants and drawers down around his ankles. Nathaniel was on his knees, sucking Seth’s substantial cock. Both men were so intent on what they were doing that at first they didn’t hear us. I stepped to them, cocked my gun and pointed it at Seth’s crotch. Nathaniel fairly spat the huge member from his mouth as both men raised their hands.

  “Howdy, gents.”

  Chapter Three

  Ben

  It had been a little more than a week since Sheriff Rawlins had killed Bart Jensen and shot Jake. Horrified, I had watched my lover fall to the floor, blood quickly staining the right side of his shirt. I still wasn’t sure why Rawlins hadn’t shot me as well, and been done with the whole matter. Instead, he had quickly torn a piece from the bed sheet and bound my arm. He then ordered me outside at gunpoint to where two horses stood. With his pistol he motioned me to a good-sized mare. Once I’d mounted, he tied my hands together, in addition to my feet, and gagged me. When he was satisfied I wasn’t going anywhere, he tied a lead rope from his pommel to the one on my saddle, and set off at a fast clip from the line cabin. We rode for several hours, stopping only once to water and rest the horses. Rawlins did not speak, nor address me. At the pace we were moving, it was obvious he expected pursuit of some kind.

  For the next three days, we rode from sunup to sundown. We stopped only to eat and water the horses. We camped at night, with no fire, and well away from the trail we were following. On the fourth day, as the sun was beginning to set, Rawlins headed into a small arroyo and, after riding for a good half mile, stopped and dismounted.

  “We’ll camp here for the night. Don’t try anything funny, or I won’t hesitate to kill you. You’re worth money to me alive or dead. It makes no never mind to me which it is. I just need to get you to Abilene in one piece.”

  A reward! Why hadn’t I thought of that? Of course there would be a reward for the murderer of a Texas Ranger. With a proper hanging thrown in for good measure. That explained why Rawlins was bringing me back to Abilene. He could just as easily have killed me in Silverton and left my body next to Jake’s. Who would have known? Of course he would be a hero if he brought in the notorious outlaw who had killed a Texas Ranger. I didn’t respond to his threat. He untied the lead rope from my pommel. He untied my feet and pulled me unceremoniously from my horse. He allowed me to fall in the dust at his feet. Thankfully, I didn’t land on the arm that was still tender from Rawlins’s bullet.

  “You should try not to be so clumsy, Masters. Now, get up.”

  When I struggled to my feet, Rawlins retied my hands and directed me at gunpoint to a rocky outcrop.

  “Sit down.”

  I did as he’d ordered, my back against the rough stone. He ran a second rope around my hands and tied it painfully behind my back. Satisfied with his work, he retied my feet. I was now a nice, neat bundle. Rawlins left me and began collecting wood for a fire. When he had one blazing, he sat staring into it. He completely ignored me. That suited me just fine. My thoughts went once again to Jake and the scene that had so recently played out at the line cabin. While a little niggling piece of my mind tried to hang on to the hope that Jake might be alive, the rest was convinced he was dead. Even if he had survived the gunshot wounds, there was no one at the cabin to tend to him. Most likely, no one would check on Bart Jensen for days, possibly even weeks.

  Jake would have slowly bled to death by now. He certainly couldn’t have mounted a horse in his condition. Even if one had been available. I was convinced my lover was dead. A deep and abiding sadness washed over me, along with a terrible aching inside. My one burning desire now was to seek revenge on the man who’d killed him. Which was going to be hard to carry out considering I was hogtied, with no weapons. I knew I only had a limited time to either escape from Rawlins or kill him outright. I was already a dead man in these parts anyways. Once we arrived in Abilene, my fate would be sealed. I would be hanged for killing that ranger, even though I was innocent of the crime. The two men who could prove that were now dead. After turning the tables on Rawlins in the jail cell in Abilene and escaping, I knew he would be extra vigilant with me. Thus, I had to keep my senses alert to take advantage of any chances for escape that arose.

  Rawlins removed several items from his saddlebags. Soon he was busy frying biscuits over the fire. My mouth began to water. We had eaten nothing but hardtack since leaving Silverton. I’d eaten a lot of hardtack in my day, some of it pretty unpalatable, but this stuff was by far the worst I had ever tasted. When the biscuits were done, Rawlins ate first then brought several to me, along with more hardtack and the canteen. He didn’t untie me, but simply fed me by hand. Contrary to his earlier statement, apparently, I was too valuable to let starve.

  When he was done feeding me, he held the canteen for me to take a small drink. Satisfied I was going to live, he returned and sat idly by the fire.

  “I have to take a piss, Sheriff.”

  He stared at me for several seconds, almost as if he had forgotten I was there.

  “Piss in your pants,” he suddenly snarled.

  “Come on, Rawlins. I have to go bad. I ain’t fooling!”

  In fact, I wasn’t. This was no escape ploy. Grumbling, he finally got up and walked over to me.

  “I’m not untying your hands, Masters.”

  “Then you’re going to have to hold it for me.”

  A sly smile appeared on his face, one that I feared did not bode well for me.

  “That’d be my pleasure.”

  He stepped closer to me and knelt beside me. The odor of his sweat was overpowering. He undid the buttons of my pants, reached in his right hand, and fished my cock from beneath my drawers. I leaned over as he held it away from me. Despite my best efforts, my dick grew hard in his hand as I pissed in the dirt between us. When I was done, he didn’t release me, but began slowly stroking my cock. Bound as I was, there was nothing I could do to stop him. I briefly thought of spitting in his face, but was pretty sure he would kill me. But, with Jake dead, what did I have to live for?

  “That sure is a nice one, Masters. It looks bigger than I remember from Abilene. No wonder Slater was so hot to have you by his side.”

  He began stroking it faster. At this point, I tried to squirm away from him, but he grabbed the rope that bound my hands and pulled me back to him.

  “Hold still. This can be nice for both of us.”

  He leaned around, and just as I felt his warm breath on the head of my cock, a sudden noise carried to our little clearing. It came from the trail we had been riding on. Rawlins hurriedly and painfully stuffed my still-rigid cock back into my pants.

  “Make any noise, and I swear I’ll kill you!”

  Rawlins left my pants unbuttoned as he drew his pistols. He concealed himself behind a stand of cactus parallel to the trail. From this vantage point he could see the trail, while not being seen by the approaching rider or riders. Quiet fell once more on our little clearing. It was broken again by the distinctive clink of hooves on stone. However, I still heard no voices. My guess was it was a lone rider. Hope rose within me unbidden. Was this the opportunity I had been waiting for? If I shouted to alert the unknown rider, would Rawlins shoot me?

  The matter was taken out of my hands when a lone rider, a young man, came around a turn in the trail. He spotted the fire and then me, and his eyes widened in surprise. Rawlins immediately stepped into the trail, both guns pointed at the man’s midsection. He was taken totally by surprise.

  “Thro
w your guns on the ground, nice and easy like. Then get your hands up!”

  The young man was quite unkempt, but even beneath the dirt and worn clothing I could see that he was quite handsome. He drew his pistols from their holsters and threw them on the ground at Rawlins’s feet. He raised his hands in the air.

  “I haven’t done anything, mister! I’m just riding through, minding my own business.”

  Rawlins did not lower his guns. His menace was palpable. He grabbed the horse’s reins and led the mounted man off the trail and over to the fire.

  “What’s your name, son?”

  “Jim. Jim Jackson.”

  “That’s funny, Jim Jackson. You look awful familiar to me. Like maybe I’ve seen you on a wanted flier.”

  Even from where I sat I could see the look of fear dance across the young man’s face.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, mister. I swear.”

  The Sheriff ignored his protestations of innocence.

  “Well, well,” Rawlins drawled. “This is indeed my lucky day. Do you know who this is?”

  He turned to me, his vicious grin raising the hairs on my arms. When I made no comment, a scowl crossed his face but disappeared just as quickly.

  “The man facing us, my fine Mr. Masters, is none other than Monty Summers. Monty is a former member of Harry Langton’s gang. Or is that current member, Monty? Where are the rest of your cohorts?”

  The young man tried to bluff his way out of Rawlins’s accusation.

  “As I said before, mister, my name is Jim Jackson. My pa owns a ranch a few miles south of here. I don’t know any Harry Langton. Besides, who the hell are you?”

  Rawlins laughed, a sound I had heard many times in the few days we had been on the trail to Abilene. However, it never accompanied any situations I found humorous.

  “I’ll tell you what, young fella. You sure got grit. I’m Sheriff Rawlins, out of Abilene. I know every ranch and homestead within a hundred miles of that town. I don’t recall any family by the name of Jackson. On my office wall back in Abilene, I have wanted fliers for the entire Langton gang. I’d recognize any one of them on sight. I know I’m looking at Monty. But never let it be said that James Rawlins didn’t give a man a fair shake. You get down off your horse, nice and easy, and allow me to tie your hands. I’ll then ask you politely to join my other young friend.” He indicated me with a wave of one of his pistols. “I’ll tie your feet as well.

  “Once we get to Abilene, I’ll check your looks against the wanted flier. If I’m still uncertain, I’ll send my deputy out to your ranch to fetch your pa. If he can prove you are who you say you are, then I’ll apologize profusely and buy you a nice steak dinner at the local saloon. But my money’s saying that won’t be happening.”

  The man hesitated. It was obvious to Rawlins and me that he was weighing his chances on making a play for his gun.

  “Don’t try anything, son. I’d just as soon shoot you here and bring you back to Abilene slung over a saddle. As with all of the members of your gang, the reward’s the same, dead or alive. No one would believe this man about what happened.”

  Rawlins indicated me with a nod of his head. I had remained silent through the entire incident. I knew if I tipped my hand to this handsome stranger, Rawlins would shoot us both. The young man studied me for a moment, then eased out of his saddle and stood facing the sheriff. Rawlins took the young man’s pistols and forced him at gunpoint to the outcrop where I sat. When the young man was seated, Rawlins trussed him similar to me. Without warning, he raised his pistol and laid it against the man’s jaw, knocking him out cold.

  “That ought to hold him through the night.”

  Without another word, he returned to the fire. He laid out his bedroll and was soon fast asleep.

  I lay awake for a long while, the sounds of Rawlins’s snoring and Jim’s labored breathing filling my ears. At least the young man was still alive. He wasn’t wearing a hat, and his bright red hair reflected the dying light of the fire. I finally dozed off, only to be awakened at first light by a swift kick from Rawlins. Jim was already awake beside me. A large, fresh purple bruise was on his left cheek. Rawlins silently fed us hardtack and biscuits and washed it down with water from the canteen. The fire had died out during the night, and the morning was chilly. Rawlins brought our horses to us and none-too-gently helped us into the saddles.

  Once again, he tied my feet together and ran the rope under the horse’s belly. He did the same to Jim. When he was done, he took a second rope and tied my horse to Jim’s. Or Monty’s, or whatever the hell his name was. We rode the entire day, stopping only long enough to water the horses. Rawlins fed us hardtack that we ate in our saddles. He cast frequent glances at us as if he were afraid his rewards were going to get away.

  At dusk, we made camp in a washout. Jim and I were forced to sleep on the hard ground, with our saddles for pillows and a skimpy blanket to share. For the first time, Rawlins was reluctant to start a fire. Perhaps he feared that more of the Langton gang were in the vicinity and would be looking for their missing comrade. We were up at first light, back in the saddle for another bone-weary day of riding. I had no idea how far Abilene was, but I was thinking we should be getting close after all the hard riding we had been doing.

  Around noon we made an unprecedented stop when we came upon a clear pool of water. We let the horses drink thirstily as Rawlins fed us more of the disgusting hardtack. When the horses had had their fill, Rawlins refilled his canteen. He carried it to each of us, letting us drink as much as we wanted. He then untied our feet and hands and ordered us to dismount and sit on the ground. Once we had, he retied our hands.

  “Fellas, I haven’t had a bath in a good while. The two of you haven’t since I captured you. We’re starting to smell like a herd of sheep. I’m going to go first, and then you two will take your turns. He retied our feet then fished in his saddlebags, producing a bar of lye soap. He began undressing in front of us, unselfconsciously. I had never really looked at Rawlins as a man before. He had always been the enemy, and that was all. But as he unbuttoned his shirt and took it off, followed by his undershirt, he revealed a well-muscled chest completely covered in dark brown hair. His nipples were large and light brown, standing out in contrast to the hair. His arms were equally as hairy and muscled. He tugged off his boots and socks, revealing large feet with dark brown hair tufted on the tops. The same hair was on top of his toes as well. Still facing us, he unbuttoned his pants and slid them off. He was not wearing any drawers. His legs matched the rest of his torso. But it was his cock that drew my attention. It was long and thick, almost animalistic. The large head was still inside its skin cocoon. His balls were the size of small apples. It was obvious Jim was amazed as well, for he stared openly. Rawlins didn’t miss our gawping and gave us a leering smile.

  “Do you like what you see, boys? If you’re good, maybe I’ll give you a taste of it before we get to Abilene.”

  Neither one of us replied as Rawlins waded into the pool. The back of him was covered in hair as well. The muscles in his ass flexed as he walked into the water. I had never realized he was so tall. When he sat down, the water came up to his waist. He began washing himself.

  As we watched him, Jim spoke to me for the first time.

  “That’s quite a pecker he’s got on him. Too bad he’s so dang ornery. By the way, what’s your name?”

  I kept my voice as low as his so Rawlins wouldn’t hear.

  “Ben Masters.”

  “Nice to meet you, Ben. My real name is Monty Summers. That old fool recognized me. I was doing some scouting for Harry Langton. He and the boys are in the area looking to pull off a train robbery.”

  “Shhh, Monty. He’s done washing.”

  Rawlins came out of the water, droplets falling from his body. He certainly was big. And he was fully hard. I had seen prized bulls on my Daddy’s ranch when I was growing up that had smaller cocks. Whoever took that up his ass would be walking crooked for a week
. Without speaking to us, Rawlins lay down on the grass a few feet from us, to let the sun dry him. Both Monty and I could not take our eyes off his huge member. It slowly softened, lying across his thigh like a rattlesnake. After several minutes, he rose and walked over to us.

  “Okay, boys, it’s your turn. I’m going to untie you, but don’t try any funny stuff.”

  He retrieved one of his pistols and held it in his left hand as he undid my ropes with his right. His cock was only inches from my face. When I was free, he paused a moment, then straightened up.

  “Masters, you untie Monty.”

  When Monty was free, Rawlins ordered us into the pool. When neither one of us moved, he cocked his pistol and pointed it at my forehead.

  “Get undressed and get in the water.”

  This time we both rose and undressed hurriedly. I surreptitiously checked out Monty as I did, and I smiled when he did the same. He was very muscular, but his torso was hairless. He had a smattering of red hair on his arms and legs, but the biggest patch was above his fat cock. He sure had a nice one. It finally dawned on me how much Monty resembled me. He was even the same height.

  “I like your dick, Ben.”

  “Right back at you, Monty.”

  Rawlins handed me the soap and held his gun on us as we waded out into the pool. The water was cool and refreshing. I went under, gasping as the cold water engulfed my body, then stood and began lathering. When I was done, I handed the soap to Monty and ducked under once more to rinse off. After Monty had done the same, we waded back to shore, where Rawlins directed us to lie in the grass to let the sun dry us. With Monty beside me, I closed my eyes as the sun beat down. I was startled when I felt a tongue on my cock. My first thought was that Rawlins was trying to have his way with me. I knew for certain I would die before that happened. I opened my eyes to find not Rawlins, but Monty, running his tongue over my prick, which was quickly hardening under the young man’s ministrations. I looked over to see Rawlins watching us avidly, his enormous cock standing at full attention.