Date: Fri, 4 Jan 2002 23:54:45 EST
From: Tommyhawk1@aol.com
Subject: Outcast of Lonely Rock, Chapter 5

		 THE OUTCAST OF LONELY ROCK, CHAPTER FIVE
		     "Upon My Engineering a Jailbreak"
			   By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM

     I could think of nothing else to do, I got on Jobias' horse and,
leading my older horse behind me, I rode in the darkness back to my uncle's
ranch. It was pitch black when I arrived, for the hour was very late, and I
had to awaken my uncle and tell him the evil news. I was surprised at his
reaction.
     "Well, that young man was always spoiling for a gunfight." he
replied. "If he hadn't been walking around town with that gun strapped to
his waist with a quick-swing holster, begging for a fight, this never would
have happened."
     "Uncle, didn't you understand what I said?" I was surprised. "It
wasn't a gunfight, it was an ambush. There were at least two of them. I
heard the shots."
     Uncle ignored me. "No choice about it now." He said. "I'll ride into
town and speak with King Carson in the morning. He's been eager to buy my
spread, and without an experienced hand to help me, there's no use
struggling on any more. Have to spend some of my own money to bury Jobias
too, I reckon, see if the preacher man and the undertaker will wait until I
get the money from Carson...."
     "Uncle, didn't you hear what I said? Jobias was murdered!"
     He looked up. "But you say they got the man who did it?"
     "No!" I said. "They claim that Hunter did it, but I saw him from the
stairs, he was still inside the saloon when the gunfire started. He wasn't
even first out the door, but one of the last. They must have just turned
around and pointed at him."
     "A stranger in town." Uncle nodded. "That happens. Poor fellow. Well,
you'd better get to the bunkroom and get some shut-eye. Tomorrow I'll ask
Carson if he'll take you on as a hand. Think he'll do it?" he looked at me
and I saw that beaten expression in his face stronger than ever.
     Uncle understood me, I realized then. He understood, and he didn't see
anything he could do about it but give in, and so he was giving in.
     Despair in my heart, I turned around and left him mumbling to himself,
going over figures of what he could do if King Carson would only give him
this much for the ranch.
     I slept little that night, and Uncle had to rouse me out of bed. I
kept Jobias' bay mare, it was a young, strong and virile animal, and led my
older horse on the tether once again, intending to try to sell it when we
got into town. I didn't think Jobias would mind my keeping his horse, I
knew he had no family to speak of, and I was his only friend.
     Uncle let me deal with the undertaker, and I talked him into the price
of the coffin and the burial to be five dollars and my old horse. I had to
reach into my own pocket for the five dollars, but I didn't care. A man
deserves a proper funeral.
     Done, I went to the saloon, but my Uncle was still inside King
Carson's office, a small room beneath the staircase, and I stopped when I
got inside the door. Two men were waiting inside, and I knew them. The two
bandits who had raped me!
     I kept back and hovered at the door, wondering if I dared run get the
sheriff. But I had kept my violation secret and I wasn't interested enough
in helping them capture a couple of bandits to let that get out. So I
stayed away and when I happened to look into the door, I saw King Carson
come out and the words out of one of the bandits' mouth shocked me.
     "You wanted to see us, boss?"
     I leaned against the wall next to the saloon door, listening to the
exchange.
     "Yes, Farley, I just bought the Broken T Ranch and all its stock. You
ride out and tell the boys to round up the Broken T stock and re-brand
them. The old man can stay on his ranch until the end of the month, so
don't pester him for that long. After that, tear down the place."
     There was more but then Elo came out the door and saw me, and a look
of sympathy flashed in his dark his eyes. "Your uncle sold his ranch." He
said. "What are you going to do?"
     The answer out of my mouth startled even me. "Find out who killed
Jobias." I said firmly.
     He was surprised, then said, "You should talk with my brothers. They
were waiting for me outside, they probably know."
     "But then...they know that Hunter didn't do it! And so do you!" Elo
had waited inside the saloon, he had seen Hunter inside when the shots rang
out.
     "That is true." Elo nodded, not looking at me.
     "But...why haven't you told the sheriff, send him after whoever did
it!" I said, almost angry at him.
     His handsome face took on briefly the look of my uncle and he began to
sweep the porch free of the dust in a slow, methodical manner. "Do you know
why I tell everyone to call me Elo?" he asked me.
     "No." I was puzzled by the turn of events.
     "My mother, she was a beautiful woman."
     "I can believe that." I said, looking at his strong face, regular
features.
     "You know that I am the half-brother of King Carson, yes?"
     "I'd heard something like that." I admitted carefully.
     "Do you know why they call him King Carson?"
     "It's not his name?" I asked. A stupid question when you think about
it but I didn't spot it at the time.
     "My mother thought that my father loved her. She wanted to show him
that she loved him too. So she gave me his name, both of them. Daniel
Carson Salcedo, that is my name. But my father's wife, she also had a son
and she loved my father too. So she gave him the same name. Daniel
Carson. When I was four years old, some men came to my mother's house and
they killed my mother, because she was telling people who the father of me
and my brothers was."
     "I'm sorry to hear that." I said.
     "So now I am Danielo, or Elo." He said. "King Carson is King
Carson. And everybody keeps their mouth shut if they are smart. You are
smart, too, I think. I see it in your eyes that you know when not to talk."
     I thought about the two men inside the saloon. "I guess I am." he
said.
     "Good." He said. "It is usually a good thing for a man to keep his
mouth shut. That is why I do not tell the sheriff."
     He finished the sweeping and walked back inside. I turned my face away
as the two bandits, Nate and Farley, left the saloon, but they didn't spare
a glance at me, talking to each other. I went cautiously into the tavern.
     My uncle was jubilant. "Eight hundred dollars." he said. "I got eight
hundred dollars for my spread and the cattle."
     "Is that good?" I asked.
     "I can go back East and live with your mother and still have some
money of my own." He said. "I'll put it in the bank and use just the
interest and leave the money to them as an inheritance in exchange for them
taking care of me."
     I looked at my uncle, at the age and weariness in his eyes. "That
sounds fair. I know my mom would love to see you again, Uncle."
     "But what about you?" Uncle asked. "I'll pay for the ticket back for
you if you want."
     I shook my head. "No thanks." I said. 'I'm staying right here."
     I knew who had killed Jobias. Now all I had to do was tell the sheriff
and get Hunter out of jail.
     I was rather surprised at the sight when I walked inside the jail. The
sheriff had set up a checkers game on a barrel near the cell, and he and
Hunter were playing a game.
     The sheriff was a strong-looking man, giving off the same air of
self-confidence and ease that Hunter did. So I was quick to tell him what I
knew. When I was done, he nodded.
     "So what are you going to do?" I asked.
     "Nothing I can do." he said.
     "But...but Hunter didn't do it!" I said, looking at him. Hunter smiled
and nodded to me in a humorless way.
     "They have six men who claim to have seen him do it, all long-standing
members of the community. You have your own word, and you were all the way
upstairs when the shooting started."
     "But there's the two Mexicans who saw them do it, too."
     The sheriff looked at me and sighed. "Like I said, and there are six
upstanding white men who say that this man did it. That's how it is."
     That's how it is. I gulped hard, worked my lips, accommodated my
thoughts to this situation. I didn't have to like it, just had to deal with
it. "What about my word? Doesn't that count for something?"
     "Not much." He said.
     "Why's that?" I said bitterly. "Because I'm new in town."
     "That and...what you did last night."
     "What I did?"
     "With King Carson." Hunter clarified.
     "But...but that was a bet." I said.
     "But it doesn't make you the best of witnesses, either. I put you on
the witness stand, and the prosecuting attorney asks what you were doing in
that saloon and you answer.... Well, who would you believe?"
     "Oh, jeez!" I said, but it was more like a small prayer than a
curse. "What can I do, sheriff? Just stand by and watch him hang?"
     "Sounds like it." the sheriff said. He reached down and unbuckled the
cover on his holster, as if preparing for a fight. "So what are you going
to do now?" He asked as he scooted his chair back into the corner, one the
wall and one the bars of the cell that held Hunter.
     "I don't know." I admitted.
     "There's a lot a man would do for a friend." the sheriff said as he
pushed the barrel away from the cell with one foot, spread his legs
wide. "Is this man your friend?"
     I looked at Hunter. "Yes, he is." I said. Hunter smiled.
     "Then you ought to be willing to do things for him." the sheriff said
as his hand came down and cupped his crotch. "Things that can make it
easier on him here in the jail. Don't you think?" He rubbed his groin and I
saw the bulge swelling there inside of his jeans. A slow, lewd movement,
and his eyes watched me watch his hand. "I can think of something you could
do."
     I looked up at Hunter and he gave a quick gesture of his head--go to
it! Then I saw his hand and where it was. Near the sheriff's gun.
     I couldn't let Hunter hang for Jobias' death. But he didn't stand a
chance in this jail. Free, he might have a chance to clear himself.
     And the sheriff was a big, good-looking man, as broad shouldered and
strong and reliable as Hunter. His hand moved upon his basket and rubbed
and rubbed at the rising cap of cloth there.
     I knelt down as he reached for the buttons on his fly. There was a
smell of concentrated manhood that rose up like the flames from a fire and
engulfed my face, a heavy, damp, musky aroma, and then his cock was yanked
out of its hiding place by his strong fingers and it reached up and slapped
across my cheek with a moist "plop!" sound.
     Hunter needed this man distracted enough to lose his gun without
noticing. I reached out and took his cockhead into my mouth and breathed in
the heady perfume of his crotch, bathed it with my saliva, feeling it like
a heavy weight in my mouth that I poured my spit over, slicking it and
making it all massive and slimy on my tongue.
     As I worked that cockhead down to the back of my throat, and it
impacted the soft tissue there, the sheriff gave out a deepy, throaty
groan. "Ah, yeah!" He grunted. "Yeah, do this for your friend." He
breathed. "Take it all, all of it, oh, yeah!" He said this last as I pulled
off of the cock and then sent it back into my mouth once more, a long,
slow, milking pull of my lips as I moved.
     He scooted down in the chair to make it easier for me, his arms just
barely able to catch on the back of the chair, holding both his arms as if
suspended in mid-air, dangling there like dead tree-branches. As my lips
pulled back up on his prong, it poured a salty mass of liquid onto my
tongue, scalding my taste buds and searing my flesh with its heat, and he
again gave a low, bass-toned groan. "Oo-oo-oohh!"
     With every move of my lips, he intoned his pleasure, and I saw from
the corner of my eye that Hunter now had a hold on the pistol's grip. Now
he needed to pull it from the holster, removing a heavy weight from this
man's waist, enough that he was sure to notice...unless he was more wrapped
up in what else was going on.
     So I clutched and sucked at him hard, wringing all the pleasure out of
his meaty pud that I could, trying to send wave upon wave of enjoyment
through his body. Maybe then he wouldn't notice the slight sh-sh-sh-sh-sh
that the pistol was making as Hunter eased it from the holster.
     The sheriff's arm came down and grabbed my head, and he began to hunch
upwards at me from his sitting position, fucking at my face, and his other
hand came down and now he had a firm hold on my head, and he was fucking my
face, shoving his heavy prong in and out of my throat, and the rapture of
his lust-song reverbrated in this tiny office, vibrating the metal bars of
the cage near him, it seemed, so that it echoed around the small room and
bounced off my ears in vibrant harmony. "Mmh! Uhhh! Yeah! Yeah! Huh! Hmph!
Uhh! Yeah!"
     I groaned myself, loudly, giving all the sound cover I could to
Hunter, though now I couldn't see him. The sheriff was now like a rutting
animal, lost in his bestial grunts of ectasy, his voice and breaths were
coming fast now, huh-huh-huh-huh-huh, and he was clutching my head so
tightly that I could hardly breathe, his schlong was pumping in and out of
me, and it burned my lips, it scalded my tonsils, it seared my tongue as it
passed, and his noises rose in tempo and volume until it was a cacophony of
sound all around me, I was surrounded by the sound and the smell of this
man, and filled with his manhood that plowed and dug at my throat, using my
face for his pleasure, and I rolled my eyes up to meet his, his face
softened with pleasure, mouth open and panting hard, his chest heaving and
his hands, his powerful hands, were a vise on my skull and were crushing my
face against his crotch, while his cock steamed inside my mouth, a huge,
fleshy, boiling pole of masculinity that assaulted my nostrils from within,
a vapor of male musk that I could not escape, and he gave a choked,
strangled sound, and my mouth, already tender from the steam off his prick,
now was seared by the splash of salty jism that sprayed heavily into my
mouth, a massive flood of human jizz that filled me and poured into my
throat, and I drank and drank, and drank it down and still there was more,
a long-lasting out-pouring of male passion, and finally, after an eternity
of drinking his come, of gulping it down until I was filled and over-filled
with his seed, he gasped, sank back down onto the chair, done at last, and
his hands still held me tight to him, but their strength was gone and I
could slip out of them unhindered.
     I rose up, wiped my lips dry on the sleeve of my shirt, looking down
at him, his face red with the blush of ejaculation, his chest still rising
and falling like a ponderous beast lurked beneath the shirt and roiled to
be free, and dots of sweat beaded his face and forehead, his tongue darted
out and licked his dry lips, and he returned to his heaving clutch of
life-restoring air. His dong lay across his jeans like a slimy slug, still
large in its torpid state, lying there advertising what he had done to my
lips and mouth and tongue with that huge prick.
     Hunter had the gun, but was waiting until the sheriff roused up,
tucked his cock back into his fly and stood up, and only then noticed the
pearl-handled revolver now in Hunter's hands. "What the hell?"
     "Okay, sheriff, time to change places." Hunter said.
     "But you..." The sheriff looked at me, and I smiled and shrugged.
     "Like you said, sheriff," I said triumphantly. "A man should be
willing to do things for his friend."
     "You'll be in trouble if you get caught." the sheriff said. He reached
for the keys on the wall and unlocked Hunter's cell.
     "A good thing nobody can hear you yell for help in here, isn't it?"
     "I guess that is good for you." the sheriff said as he stepped aside
and let Hunter step out, and then stepped in and pulled the door closed
behind him.
     "How do I lock this thing?" Hunter asked as he put the key in the
lock.
     "One half turn counter-clockwise." the sheriff said. "They'll find me
in here sooner or later, you know."
     "Is there another way out of here?" Hunter asked.
     "A back door." the sheriff said. "But a lot of empty room behind it."
     "I'll go get the horses and lead them back there." I said.
     As I left, I heard Hunter say, "I'll put the keys on the floor
here. You can fish them to you with your belt buckle in, oh, say, fifteen
minutes time."
     "That ought to be plenty." the sheriff agreed.
     I got my horse and another one that was also hitched nearby, the
saddle brand declaring it to belong to the sheriff. Since I was guilty of
jailbreak, a little horse-thievery didn't bother me any right then.
     Behind the buildings, I found the door to the sheriff's office and
knocked on the door.
     Hunter opened the door cautiously and I peered around, said, "Coast is
clear."
     He came out and got on the horse; I got on my new bay mare and we rode
away from Lonely Rock, across the barren field that looked to be a garden
in the milder months of the year.
     "My first jailbreak." I said when we made it over the hill and Lonely
Rock vanished behind us with no sound of pursuit. "Not bad for a first
time, was it."
     "You did good, kid." Hunter said.
     "Tell me something, Hunter." I said after a time, as I thought of
something.
     "What is it, kid?"
     "The way you and that sheriff talked, you were like old friends. You
met him before?"
     "Nope." Hunter said. Then, after a silence. "Sometimes a good man
finds himself in a bad position. All he can do then is the best he can."
     I thought it over. How the sheriff had pushed his chair right up
against the cell, with the holster unfastened, gun practically in Hunter's
face begging to be taken.
     "You know, Hunter." I said. "I think next time, I'll let that sheriff
fuck me, too." I smiled over at Hunter. "You know, the next time I have to
bust us out of jail."
     Hunter just smiled. "Let's ride, kid." he said. "There will be a
pursuit after us before much longer. We need to cover ground.
     And we prodded our horses into a full gallop. If we could make it into
the hills in the distance, jagged, rough things, we would be able to hide.

			    END OF CHAPTER FIVE
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