Chapter 15
Posted: July 11, 2007 - 05:13:39 pm

It was after two on Sunday afternoon when I returned to my room. I changed clothes and spent a few minutes sorting out my laundry to take to Clem's the next day. In mid-nineteenth century El Paso, there was no wearing an outfit fifteen minutes and throwing it into the dirty clothes. Washing clothes was a huge chore back then, so a person tended to get the maximum wear out of an outfit between cleanings.

Personal hygiene wasn't quite as casual here in the city as it was in the countryside, but people weren't obsessed about bathing either. A good bath every two or three days was the norm. Yes, of course people smelled, so what? Since everyone was in the same boat, a little earthy aroma wasn't a big deal. I had to admit that I had been very lucky, in that the women I had bedded were all fastidious about their cleanliness. My guess was that, even in these times, women knew the importance of keeping themselves clean 'down there' because of health issues.

So anyway, there I sat in my room, bored to oblivion. I dug out my cleaning kit and cleaned my pistol and rifle for lack of anything better to do. While I had my pistol partially disassembled, I had the thought that, times being as they were, it might not hurt to fire a few rounds with the pistol and rifle to keep my skills sharp. I liked the hell out of that idea the more I thought about it, so I put the pistol together and grabbed my hat, rifle and saddlebags.

I fast walked down to the stables and saddled Melosa up again. She was tickled pink on getting to go out a second time that day. She was even happier, I think, when I started singing. Today I was working on my own version of Marty Robbins's "El Paso". The ballad he wrote about Uncle Ty and Feleena's doomed love. Of course, my version was going to have a much happier ending.

As we rode out of town, out of habit I took the west road that twisted alongside the river. Since the Lopez home was in that direction, I decided to stop and see if Anna wanted to go shooting with me.

It was about four in the afternoon, when Melosa and I arrived at the Lopez's house. Everyone was outside, seeing Emilio and his boys off as they headed home. From all the smiling and hugging, it must have been a successful visit. I waited off to the side and waved to Emilio as he pulled his wagon out of the yard.

As Emilio headed out onto the road, Anna walked over to where Melosa and I were standing.

"So Charro, you came to visit after all."

I hopped down out of the saddle and kissed her hand.

"Your beauty draws me as the sweet honeysuckle draws the hummingbird."

Anna actually giggled when I laid that line on her. She grabbed my hand and led me up to the porch.

"Come on in, sweet talker, and you can pass out whatever is in the saddlebags."

I followed her inside and took a seat at the large family table while Anna gathered her family and fetched the saddlebags. When she handed me the bags, I opened the buckles on both sides and cleared my throat.

"When I arrived in El Paso last month, I met Maria on my first evening in town. The following morning I met Juanita and she invited me to attend church with her family. Since then you all have been wonderful to me, and I think the way you made me feel welcome, had a lot to do with the success I've had since I've been here. To express my gratitude for all you've done for me, I found each of you a little personal gift."

The first thing I pulled out of the bag was a hand sewn stuffed horse that looked a lot like Melosa. I handed it to little Anna and she grabbed it tightly. "Losa," she squealed as she hugged the doll.

Next out of the bag was a set of silver hair combs for Juanita. The combs were ornately filigreed and very Spanish in their design; I knew they'd look terrific holding up Juanita's mass of ebony tresses. Juanita took them and dashed off to put them in her hair.

Most of the gifts I was passing out came from the shop down in El Paso del Norte where I bought my furniture, but the next one came from Pritchett's Mercantile. It was the gold pocket watch Mister Pritchett had tried to sell me. Funny how it was too expensive for my own use, but I didn't blink at spending fifteen dollars on it for Hector. At the same time I gave Hector his watch, I gave Ramona a gold broach in the shape of a hummingbird with green gemstones for eyes. They both protested that the gifts were too much, but I just smiled and shook my head.

"You can't put a price on family," I said, "and I'm proud that you've let me be a part of yours."

Maria received a finely wrought gold cross on a delicate chain. She absolutely loved it. She swept her hair off her neck and had me fasten the chain for her. When the cross settled on her dress in the valley between her perky breasts, she threw her arms around me and kissed me.

The final gifts I pulled out of the saddle bags were for my wonderful friend and lover Anna. For her, I had bought a silver mirror and brush set. The brush and mirror were almost works of art, with what appeared to be hand carved cameos set in the back. I had to do some powerful dickering with the shopkeeper in Mexico. He finally relented to selling them at a price I could afford when I brought up all the money I had spent there and the future business we would be doing.

Anna looked at the brush and mirror in awe as she traced the outline of the cameo with her fingertip.

"These are too beautiful to waste on an old woman," she said softly.

I quickly disagreed.

"Nonsense," I said. "They are beautiful things for a beautiful woman. It is past time you let your hair down and lived again."

When I said that, heads all around the table started nodding in agreement.

Anna looked at all the nodding heads and gave me a smoldering look.

"We shall see about that, my amazing young vaquero, we shall definitely see about that."

After more thanks, handshakes and hugs, I finally got around to asking Anna if she wanted to go with me while I practiced with my pistol and rifle. She agreed and Maria asked if she could go with us. I said that was fine. Anna told me that she needed ten minutes or so to get ready and dragged Maria and Ramona off with her. I sat and yakked with Hector while I waited.

Hector Calis was a good man. He worked hard and took excellent care of his family. Hector and I had a friendly relationship based on mutual respect, once he learned that I wasn't all about getting into his daughters' pantaloons.

I steered our conversation around to the deepening rift between the Mexicans and Anglos of El Paso. Hector put the blame squarely on Charles Howard. According to Hector, Howard and his bunch of Missouri cronies had imported all their Civil War prejudices to El Paso. Howard looked down on anyone who wasn't a lily-white, Baptist Democrat. I could see in Hector the seeds of the anger that eventually resulted in Howard's death by a Mexican firing squad.

Our chit-chat was cut short by the return of Anna and Maria. Hector and I did a double take at the sight of Anna in a light blue dress. Her hair was loose and flowing and hung down her back almost to her waist. Hector was even more impressed than I was.

"You look exactly as you did the first time I met you, Abuela. You were even wearing that dress as I recall," he said.

Anna beamed him a smile that he had remembered and patted his cheek.

Everything about Anna belied her age. Her petite body, glistening black hair and smooth skin could have belonged to a woman twenty years younger. Only a few grey hairs and some wrinkles at the corners of her mouth and eyes hinted at the truth. I think her attitude had much to do with it too. When she wanted to be, Anna was as vivacious and flirty as a woman half her age.

We said our goodbyes to Hector and Ramona and walked down towards the river again. Anna knew a spot where the embankment was high enough to form a backstop for any errant bullets, so that's where we headed. I took Melosa with us when we went. Melosa was a vaquero's horse and not gun shy in the least, but I figured that firing a few rounds from the saddle was still good training for her. Being on a gun shy horse when you needed to shoot, was not a cheerful prospect.

The spot that Anna and Maria led me to was perfect for a little plinking, although it didn't give me any room for long range practice with my rifle. Anna had brought along a feed sack full of empty food cans so I'd have something to shoot at. I set out a couple of cans and backed up about fifteen yards. I unhooked the hammer safety and made sure my Colt was sitting lightly in my holster, then squared my shoulders facing my target. I took a breath, drew, aimed and fired at first one can then the other. Both cans jumped satisfyingly into the air. I reholstered my gun and did it again with the same results.

When I was trick shooting with the Sagebrush Old West Show, I would have drawn and shot from the hip without aiming. However, this wasn't practicing for a show; it was preparing to defend my life. My shots in the here and now were going to be aimed, and I'll tell you why.

When I was hired on by Sagebrush Productions, I studied up on gunslingers so I could select a persona for myself. There was indeed a Black Bart in the old west; his real name was Charles E. Boles. Boles was a stage coach robber in the eighteen-seventies and eighties in California. I took his name because it sounded cool, not because of Bart's abilities. In fact, as far as I could research, Bart had never fired a shot while robbing twenty-eight stagecoaches. Old Bart also hated horses and never rode one; he did all his traveling by foot. It was incredible that he eluded capture for as long as he did.

During my research I also read a lot about Wyatt Earp, the famous town marshal of Tombstone, Arizona. Wyatt Earp lived a long and full life, finally dying in bed in his eighties. Earp said the secret to his longevity was his marksmanship under pressure, not his fast draw. I agreed completely with Mister Earp; better a moderately fast draw and a well aimed shot than a lightning draw and a wild shot.

As a side note, my favorite gunslinger by far was the Mexican-American bandito, Tuburcio Vasquez. Vasquez was the son of a prominent and wealthy family from Monterey, California. He was handsome, well educated and had courtly manners. He probably would have been a success at anything he tried. Unfortunately, a fight over a señorita led to Vasquez killing a constable and turning to crime while still a teen. Vasquez's twenty plus year reign as a rustler, robber and consummate ladies man made him a legend in his own lifetime. A play in which he was the hero was even performed as he sat in jail waiting for his date with the hangman. For all his outlaw exploits, the only time Turbucio was ever wounded in a gunfight was by a jealous husband. What a guy! (Want to read more about Turbucio? Follow this link and read parts 34 & 35: http://www.scvhistory.com/scvhistory/signal/reynolds/part34.html)

So anyway I fired off all Uncle Ty's old rounds for his Colt at the cans we set up. The ladies were quite impressed by my marksmanship, although Anna was worried at the need for me to be so good with a gun.

I felt better about my chances if things became dicey after firing off thirty rounds, but decided I was going to visit Anna's friend the leather worker the first chance I had. I had in mind a new gun belt with double holsters of my own design. Anna agreed immediately to meet me there tomorrow morning. I actually made her blush when I asked her if she might be sweet on the man.

"He is a good man, Charro; he is more my age and well respected. His wife died a few years ago and his children are all gone except for one daughter."

I sighed dramatically, "It must be my fate to be jilted by Lopez women when something better comes along."

Anna laughed, but Maria didn't. Instead, she added her two cents worth.

"Not all of us, Tyler. Some of us are still awaiting our turn."

We traipsed back to Hector's homestead about five in the evening. I took my leave and headed back to town. Before I could mount up on Melosa, all the Lopez women had to give me a hug and a kiss for their gifts. All of them were chaste busses on the cheek except for Maria, who laid a serious kiss on me. Thank goodness Hector was out in the barn tending to something, or one of us would have been in big trouble. As it was, all that happened was some teasing from the other women.

I made it back to the boardinghouse in plenty of time to clean up for dinner. After a truly wonderful pot roast, I helped Molly with the dishes per usual and we bantered about our day. Molly was of the same opinion as Anna when I told her I had practiced shooting that day.

"I pray for the day when carrying a gun is as unnecessary as a raincoat here, Tyler. It worries me that you see the need to be a practiced duelist."

I didn't have the heart to tell her that the day she wished for was at least three decades into the future. It was still prudent to carry a gun around El Paso as late as nineteen-fifteen while Black Jack Pershing and the Eighth Calvary Brigade from Fort Bliss chased the elusive Poncho Villa through the Guadalupe Mountains.

"I don't want or expect trouble Molly, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't be prepared if it happens."

"I suppose," Molly said without conviction.

Then she suddenly brightened as she put away the last dish.

"I'll see you in a few minutes," she whispered before scampering out of the kitchen.

It was actually more like twenty minutes before she came into my room, but the wait was worth every second. Molly had let her hair down and bushed it until it shined. She was also dressed in a long, cream-colored, silk dressing gown that dragged the floor as she walked. She had one hand hidden behind her back.

"I've a present for you, Tyler," she said.

"If it is sexier than that outfit, it might kill me," I replied.

She laughed and whipped her hand from behind her back. In it was one of those ubiquitous small Seth Thomas, mass-produced alarm clocks with two bells and a clapper on top.

"Now you have one of your own to wake us up in the morning," she gushed.

Well, I guess it was the thought that counted, so I plastered a smile on my face.

"Gee, that's great, Molly. I really needed one of those."

Thankfully, the alarm clock wasn't the only thing Molly brought to the bed that night. She also brought a mighty healthy libido with her.

As soon as I had her on the bed kissing her, she grabbed my hand and pushed it under her gown.

"Feel how wet I am, Tyler, I have been thinking of nothing but this all day."

Little Miss Molly was not kidding about being aroused. I moved my hand off her wetness, pushed up the hem of her gown and attacked her with my lips and tongue as if I were some deranged aardvark. This, coincidently, was exactly what Molly wanted. I had barely finished making the first swipe with my tongue, when her thighs clamped around my head and she started screaming her first orgasm into my pillow.

I think Molly would have kept me there all night, but after about twenty minutes, my neck was as stiff as my Johnson, and my fellows were turning blue. I pried her thighs from around my head and crawled between them, then on a whim, I pulled those alabaster columns across my shoulders and skewered her to the bed in a couple of hard strokes.

For a woman who didn't attend church regularly, Molly knew the names of a lot of saints. I know because in the next ten minutes, she called on every one of them as she thrashed around under me. Anyone walking by my room would have thought we were having a tent revival with all the "Oh Gods", and "Sweet Mother Marys" she was shouting out.

I was one whipped cowboy when she finally had mercy on me and let me go to sleep. She had rode me hard and put me away wet, yet, if I had died right then it would have taken a team of undertakers a week to wipe the smile off my face.

Molly hopped out of bed the next morning almost as soon as the alarm clock went off. She said nary a word to me as she slipped out of my room. I had just fallen back asleep, when Molly gently shook me awake again. When I covered her hand with mine, she climbed on the bed.

"I seemed to have set the clock a few minutes early Tyler, can you think of anything to do now that I'm awake?"

Without a word I spun her around so that we were in the sixty-nine position with her on top. She must have hoped for something like that, because I could tell she'd washed her tasty little quim. It took about fifteen minutes for her to drain me. It wouldn't have taken her nearly as long if she hadn't stopped every few minutes to climax on my face. My sleep was beyond blissful after she kissed me on the cheek and left to fix breakfast.
Joe J & Wet Dream-Girl
Chapter 16