Abby and the Outlaws

Let me start out by sayin' that I did not smother Roy Henderson with a pillow. That was some malarkey his old battle axe of a wife made up because she couldn't stand the notion that her whore mongerin' son of a bitch husband met his maker while some young gal was ridin' his pole. It was just my poor fortune to be the gal ridin' it.

Now, my personal thought on the matter is that he had himself an apoplexy of some sort. He was well known to be a slow squirter, and he put a lot of strain into the deed. If you ask me, he should've been charged extra for all the time he took, but there ain't no point to makin' that argument now.

Whatever reason he went to meet his maker, it weren't my fault. I fuck good, but I ain't never fucked a fella to death.

But the widow made the claim, although smotherin' a customer who paid me regular don't make no sense. I reckon nobody truly believed her, but she had just come heir to the second biggest cattle ranch in the territory, so that senile old coot Judge Vickers bought her story like it was five cent whiskey, slammed down his gavel and told me I had to hang by my neck until I was dead.

Now, the folks there at the Shoshone county calaboose were right hospitable, so they gave me accommodations where I could look out at the gallows between the bars on my window. I tried not to gaze on it much, but the only distraction they provided was a Gideon's Bible.

I was flippin' through it, though the only comfort I found in those pages was knowin' that at least they weren't gonna stone me to death, when suddenly my perusal was interrupted by a loud bang outside.

I looked out and saw two men dressed all in black, standin' on the gallows. The trap door was open and I realized that it was the source of the sound I heard. There was a gunny sack hanging from a rope under it, swingin' back and forth.

The two men hauled the rope up, hand over hand, until the sack was back up to the platform.

"They gettin' things ready for your big day tomorrow," a voice said behind me. It was that addle-headed deputy, Honus or Jonahs, I don't remember exactly what his name was. I doubt he could either.

"The hell they doin'?" I asked him.

"Measurin' the rope. You ain't but a light little filly. They got to get it just right. They make it too long and mayhaps they yank your head clean off. They make it too short, and you could be kickin' for a good long while. But if you weigh 'bout the same as that tater sack, you'll just snap your neck and be done."

"Well, looks like they know what they're doin'."

"Yep," he said, "But a little bit of a short drop is best. Folks like a good show."

He went back to his business, whatever that could be, and I watched as the older of the two men tied a noose at the end of the rope. When he finished, the other man raised the rope a foot or so and tied it off.

The two of them climbed down from the gallows and headed down the dusty street to the saloon. I couldn't take my eyes off the noose. Well, not so much the noose as the openin' in the loop of rope. It felt like a window that only I could see through. A window straight into hell.

It was gettin' on near sundown when I heard a commotion from the front of the buildin'. It sounded like a good number of men stompin' about in heavy boots.

"Where's the sheriff?" someone asked in a deep, growly bear of a voice.

"Why, he's gone up to the North Branch, Colonel," the deputy said, "Pretty sure he won't be back till mornin'."

I thought I had recognized that voice. Colonel Davis. He was a mean ol' bastard. He'd come in to Rosie's now and then, but he never picked me. He liked big gals. And he liked to leave them black and blue.

There were sounds of a scuffle, and then the Colonel said, "Me and the boys was laying out for that gang of cattle rustlers that have been hittin' my herd and some of the other ranches.We managed to run this one down, but the rest of them got away."

"You didn't run me down," a new voice said, "You shot my damn horse out from under me."

There was a little more scufflin' and I didn't hear that guy's voice again. There was a fair bit of talkin' that I couldn't make out, then the deputy and a cowpoke come down the corridor, half leadin', half draggin' a dark-haired fella. They shoved him into the cell two down from mine and slammed the door behind him.

"Say, what's goin' on?" the cowpoke asked the deputy, "Seems like the town's mighty crowded."

"That whore over there is how come," the deputy said, jerkin' his thumb in my direction, "Hangin' her tomorrow, high noon."

The cowpoke looked me over, rubbin' his chin. "Why they want to waste a prime piece of pussy like that?" he asked.

"She done smothercated ol' Roy Henderson over to Rosie's Saloon," the deputy said.

"Well, shit, that ornery bastard prob'ly had it comin'."

He took a couple of steps closer to my cell and said, "Ya know, if she's droppin' in the mornin', why don't we give her one last good night?"

The deputy sputtered. "I...I...I don't reckon the sheriff would look on that with much favor..."

The cowpoke looked me up and down, then shrugged his shoulders and said, "Yup, reckon he'd be right sore if he learn't about it. Him bein' a godly man and all."

As they left, I had a notion to holler to that shit kicker and tell him that if he'd shoot the deputy and let me out of my cage, I'd let him fuck me in all three holes. I thought better, figurin' that if I did, they'd likely end up takin' turns with me and give me a beatin' to boot, whether the sheriff would approve or not. And they'd still be puttin' a noose around my neck on the morrow.

But that notion set me to a serious think. Maybe I could stay above ground a mite longer than the widow Henderson and her paid for judge thought proper. I just had to wait for supper time.

In the mean time, the rustler stirred in his cage and sat up. He spit a dribble of blood on the floor. "I think that sumbitch knocked a tooth loose," he said.

"Ain't you a misfortunate," I muttered.

He looked at me like it took a minute for his eyes to line up straight.

"I heard tell they was fixin' to string up a sportin' gal. That you?"

"Seems that's their intent."

"Well, that's a damn shame."

"Can't dispute on that."

"Name's Ethan, by the way."

"Abigail."

The deputy came back in, holding a tin tray in each hand.

"Got yer supper," he said.

"Is that what I smelled?" Ethan asked, "I thought maybe the privy overflowed."

"Watch yer tater trap," the deputy growled, "else I'll feed yours to the hogs." Gruntin', he bent down and set one tray on the floor in front of Ethan's cell and shoved it under the door with his foot.

"Don't know that the hogs would accept it," Ethan said when he looked at the tray.

The deputy delivered mine, and I smiled at him like he'd brought me the finest beefsteak in town. I took a gander at my supper. It was just a pewter plate of beans and a hard roll, with a cup of cold black coffee.

I looked up at him and batted my eyes. "Ain't much of a last supper," I said in my sweetest voice. "I thought I might get somethin' special."

"All you're gettin' is a rope," he said with a sneer.

"Oh, don't be mean. I was hopin' to ask a kindness from you."

He gave me a sideways look and asked, "What sort of a kindness?"

"Well," I told him, "I was hopin' that before I climb up that gallows..." I showed him my best bashful face, "...I was hopin' I could suck on one last pecker."

He let out a snort and said, "You really are one hell of a whore, ain't you?"

"Don't you like gettin' your pecker sucked?"

"Hell," Ethan said, "If you won't oblige the lady, I'd be happy to grant the favor."

"I told you to pipe down," the deputy shouted at him. Then he looked me over and said, "I bet you're damn good at it."

"Honey, I'm offerin' to let you get for free what a lotta men paid good hard cash for."

He reached down and squeezed the front of his trousers, so I knew that I had him on the hook. I just needed to reel him in. I unbuttoned the top two buttons of my dress, shrugged my shoulders, and let it fall down to expose my tits.

That done it. It didn't take two heartbeats time for him to unhook the keyring from his belt and unlock my cell.

"You turn around and face the wall," he told Ethan.

"The hell I will. I enjoy a show with my supper."

The deputy set the tray down next to me on the bunk, while I flipped the top button on his trousers undone. Before I could get to the second one, he dropped the suspenders from his shoulders. One good yank, and his trousers fell, revealing his musty under britches. He didn't smell too good, but as I didn't want my neck stretched, I let that fact go unremarked.

While I was tugging his britches down to his ankles, he grabbed my tits and began tugging at them like he was milking a cow.

"Why don't you sit down," I asked, "I do my best work from that advantage."

He flopped his big behind on the bunk, shakin' the tray and spillin' the coffee. That bunk sagged till I thought it would break.

I got on the floor, kneelin' in front of him.

His pecker was sticking straight up and jerkin' on its own. I knew he'd pop quick, so I had to be ready. I wrapped my hand around it, low on the shaft. It was of a decent proportion, though it weren't anything an honest man could truthfully boast about.

I gave it a few tugs, then I lowered my head down and took the end of it in my mouth. It tasted like piss and salt. If we were at Rosie's, I'd have made him give it a scrub, but this wasn't a situation where proper etiquiette applied.

With my other hand I played with his balls, giving them a little squeezin' and ticklin'. They pulled up tight against his body. Another sign he wasn't goin' to take long. Now, in the ordinary course of affairs I take pride in a job well done. When I give a man a French job, he's like to wake up the next morning whistlin' an opera. A lot of gals don't like doin' it, which strikes me foolish. It's a fine money maker. But with that deputy, all I wanted to do was get that load out of him quick as a jackrabbit, and, lo and behold, it didn't take much more than a minute of suckin'.

He got tensed up and was breathin' like a winded horse. Soon as I knew he was ready to shoot, I raised up and grabbed a hold of my supper tray. The beans and coffee flew all over the floor.

The deputy let loose into the air and pushed up on his elbow, wonderin' where my mouth had gone. I brought that tray down with both hands, square on his forehead.

He went sort of owl eyed and his tongue flopped out of his mouth. He tried to rise himself up, but I wasn't about to take no gambles. I picked up the plate, and I swung it backhanded, just the way my Ma used to strike me when I sassed her. But she didn't have no pewter plate in her hand. I knocked his nose crooked. He fell back. It reminded me of that tater sack they was droppin' from the gallows.

"Lordy," Ethan said, "You ain't killed another one, have you?"

"He's still breathin'," I said, while I was fumblin' around to locate that ring of keys.

I found them halfway under his ass. He give a grunt when I pulled them out, givin' proof to my assertion that he still drew breath. I didn't much care one way or another. If they wanted to hang me a second time, they could do so with no complaint from me.

"Thought I was gonna see a better show that that," Ethan said.

"Lot of people are lookin' forward to a show. I aim to disappoint 'em."

"I'd judge that reasonable."

I stepped out of the cell and slammed the door shut behind me. I found the proper key and locked the deputy in, although I expected someone was likely to come along and find him before he returned to what little senses he had.

Ethan was standin' by his door, grippin' the bars. "I might offer you a word of kindly advice," he said, "Much as I hate to say it, you'd have a better chance of slippin' out of town unnoticed if you put those titties away."

I hadn't even thought about that in my excitation at getting out from behind those bars. I thanked him and put my garments back in decent order.

"I do regret seeing them get tucked away like that," he said, "But it's for the best, I reckon. Now how about you open this door too?"

I hesitated for a minute. I wasn't sure I could trust him. I asked him, "How do I know you ain't gonna hog tie me once we get clear of town and try to trade me for your own liberty?"

"Damn. I hadn't thought of that, but it ain't a bad plan."

"I best leave you here then."

"I suppose so. If you got a horse ready to ride and a safe hideaway you know you can get to, why, go on ahead with that plan."

I didn't have no plan except to knock out that deputy and get his keys. It did seem likely that this rustler's help would improve the odds of a clean escape in my favor.

I unlocked his cell and let him out. He nodded and said, "Thank you, ma'am."

We peeked around the corner before we stepped out into the office part of the jailhouse.

"The coast is clear," Ethan said, "And there's my hat."

He crossed to the sheriff's desk and picked up a battered stetson.

"Would hate to lose that."

"It don't look much worth keepin'," I said.

"Why, this hat and me been through a lot together. I guess you'd say it's my good luck charm."

"And here's my pistols," he said, taking a gun belt and a pair of six shooters off a shelf behind the desk.

When they had come to haul me off to the jail, I had just finished playing mare and stallion with a drover named Ben, up from Texas. They didn't give me the time to do more than pull on a dress. I figured we were in for a long, cold night ride. There was a sheepskin slicker hangin' on a hook. It would be big, but not by too much, so I put it on. It come down near to my ankles.

Ethan strapped on his guns and found his jacket. He peered out the front window. "Don't see no one right now. You ready to go?"


"I'm more ready to go than I am to hang."

"Just try to look ordinary." He grinned. "As much as a fine filly like you can. We'll just stroll over to the stables like normal folks."

"I thought you said before that they shot your horse."

"They did. So we'll have to steal some."

"You lied to me so's I'd let you out of your cell."

"You brained a deputy to get out of yours."

"Well, that's fair."

"Ready?"

"Yep."

We stepped out into the street. The sky was that deep blue it turns at end of day. It would be full night soon.

The town stable was just down the street. There weren't anything between but the blacksmith shop, and it sat in darkness.

Tryin' to look like we was just out for a stroll, we walked past it, then turned and snuck around the corral, comin' up on the stables from behind.

"Stay here," Ethan whispered when we reached the back wall. I almost put up an argument, fearin' he might just ride off without me, but I was in the middle of the creek now, it weren't time to stop swimmin'.

I watched around the corner while he crept along the side of the stable. There was a window midway along the wall. He stopped and look a gander inside, then waved for me to come along behind him. As I tippy-toed close, he grabbed hold of the sill and hoisted himself up and over.

Once landed, he held out his hands and helped me over as well. I couldn't see much once inside the stable, but I could hear the horses, and I sure as damnation could smell them.

Ethan stumbled around, unloosing the occasional curse when he'd bang into somethin', until he found a lantern and matches on a shelf. He lit the wick and it flared up, bright as day.

"Well, that won't attract no undue attention," I said.

He tempered the wick and the light dimmed, until it was scarcely enough to allow a view around the building. There looked to be about a dozen horses standin' in the stalls. Ethan made a great show of examinin' each one, fussin' and mumblin' to himself like he was the country's premier judge of horse flesh.

"How well can you ride?" he asked me.

"Well enough."

"It's gonna to be a long ride across rough country."

"I prefer that to a short ride straight down. So mayhaps you best get a move on and complete your inspections."

He got about the business at hand and picked out a pair of horses he found satisfactory. While he saddled them I went to the big front doors and pushed one side open just enough to view the street.

I saw a figure come through the swingin' doors at the saloon, and nearly ducked my head back inside, but he seemed unsteady and so I watched to see what he was about. He stumbled on the lone step down to the street and landed flat on his face. I thought he was out colder that the deputy, and fretted that his compadres would come for him and make a ruckus, but he managed to lift himself to his feet.

For a minute, he swayed back and forth, lookin' in all directions like he had no idea where he was goin'. As sure as bad weather, he chose a path straight toward the stable. I asked myself whether I was goin' to have to knock out two sonsabitches in one night.

He saved me the bother, staggerin' over to the smithy's shop and floppin' down on a bench beside the door.

Ethan brought the horses up behind me.

"Are we all clear out there?" he asked.

"Yup, quiet as a graveyard."

"I wish you wouldn't have said that," he muttered as he helped me up into the saddle, "It's the graveyard for both of us if we get caught."

"Yup, but I was headed there anyway. Now at least I won't swing alone."

"You sure know how to cheer a fella up," he grumbled as he pushed open the doors.

I followed as he walked his house out into the street. He closed the stable doors and mounted his ride.

"Now, just mosey," he said, "Don't look to be in no big hurry."

We set out at an easy amble, and didn't see a soul until we were near the edge of town. There was a row of privies there, and as we passed, someone stepped out. But I had raised the collar of that slicker up, so if he looked our way, all he saw was the top of my head. We just looked like a pair of ranch hands headed to the bunkhouse. He paid us no mind and went about his business.

Once clear of town, we picked up our pace. About a half mile out, a raggedy dog came out of nowhere, followin' behind us and barkin'.

"Keep it steady," Ethan said, "Don't want to look like we're runnin'."

"You ain't got to keep tellin' me that," I said. "Where we headed anyway?"

"I ain't tellin' you that."

"Why not?"

"Because if they catch you and I get away, I don't want you spillin' the beans."

"I wouldn't squawk."

"They'd whip it out of you."

I shrugged. "Ain't like I never been whipped before."

"A fella whippin' you in play and one whippin' you to make it hurt ain't the same thing."

"I was talkin' about my Ma, but I take your point."

We set the horses to a canter, and the dog gave up his pursuit. About two miles out of town the road forked. We took to the right, headed north.

"Should we be stickin' to the road?" I asked.

"Yep. That way our tracks aren't so apparent to the eye, mixed in as they are with others. But since we got a little moon, and a straight course across the prairie for the next ten miles or so, now's the time for speed."

We galloped hard for the next couple miles. When we come to a small creek, we forded it, then stopped to let the horses have a good drink and take a rest.

My stomach was growlin'. After all, I had dumped my supper on the jailhouse floor. I looked in my saddlebags and found two good sized strips of jerkie.

I offered one to Ethan. He took it and thanked me.

That jerkie was as tough as boot leather and didn't taste like any meat I recognized. Ethan reckoned it was elk. They were plentiful in those parts.

I was hopin' there might be somethin' more in the other bag, some hardtack maybe or even some bacon. I had no luck in that regard, but my search did not go unrewarded. At the bottom of the bag, I found a knife. It only had about a two inch blade tucked into a rough leather sheath. It didn't look like it was useful for much more than cuttin' an apple or cleanin' dirt from under the fingernails, but even a small knife is handy to have. I put it in the pocket of the slicker and didn't inform Ethan of the discovery.