One Night in Dodge City

Author's Notes: All characters of legal age.

This is my second Western. It's written for the One Night In XXX event. Because of the "one night" limitations set out by the event, it's fairly short. There's a back story with one of the characters and if the story is well received, I'll write the next chapter.

My first Western, "The Gunfighter" https://www.literotica.com/s/the-gunfighter was put out as a "see if there's any demand" for Western stories. Unfortunately because there was a site upgrade going on it got published the afternoon of the day after it was supposed to. Then got hit by an avalanche of stories from an event a few hours later. It only got a few hours at the top of the list, instead of a couple of days. The views were way down compared to other stories although I was thankful for the awesome ratings and comments you gave. So if you have a few minutes please give it a read, vote and comment. Please let me know if you like Westerns and would like to see more.

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Black Bart lazed on a bench in the warm sunshine outside the Long Branch saloon. Despite it being so early he'd wet his whistle with one beer. He didn't like to drink more. In his position he never knew when he needed his wits about him and liquor slowed his draw down.

The smile on his face didn't reach his eyes. Townspeople were crossing the road to the opposite side of the street to avoid him. With his reputation for gun fighting none wanted to offend him. Yet by not treating him proper, that's exactly what they did. Although they didn't know it, he knew he'd respect anyone with the sand in their craw to walk up and say good morning to him. A simple measure of respect, that was all he wanted. He had no need of killing people for nothing. Truth be told, he'd never killed anyone over nothing. Every one of them had it coming.

Leon, a grizzled old cowboy already deep into his cups stumbled out of the saloon and sat down beside him. Bart didn't care much for him, but it was a public bench.

"That one shor is purty," Leon nodded his head at a couple on the opposite sidewalk.

Bart took her in. She was definitely a looker. Young, sweet, blond curling ringlets escaping her bonnet. Her figure was very petite. Not much on the chest. But there was something more important at the moment. The man and woman had been a few stores down the sidewalk. They'd crossed over, he presumed, to avoid him.

"Yeah," he agreed feeling annoyed that perhaps they'd slighted him. He couldn't help admiring her ass though when she turned to gaze into a store window. They were right across the street and he could see his own reflection in the glass. He wondered if she was looking at him. That was wishful thinking he concluded and wondered what she was looking at in that window. Then he wondered if any woman of that quality had ever looked at him with anything but fear.

"Ya ever been with one that purty?" Leon pressed.

Bart shook his head thinking about all the worn out saloon girls he'd been with over the years, "naw, never. Never met a whore that new to the trade."

"Lucky guy," Leon groused, "if that was mine I'd poke her all night, every night. All day too, come to think of it."

"And how you gonna pay fer that?" Bart laughed, clapping him on the shoulder good-naturedly. "Come on I'll buy ya another beer."

Sittin in the saloon later listening to the buzz of conversation Bart realized he was bored. It had been a while since his last job and he could feel a powerful need to do something. He could take one of the whores upstairs and poke her. In the harsh light of day their heavily painted faces looked garish and showed the wear and tear. Knowing they had all been upstairs at least once with someone else he decided to pass. He didn't feel like sticking his cock in some other's leavins.

He caught sight of the couple from earlier passing by the window. Outside, he watched their wagon piled high with their purchases roll down the street. An idea was forming in his mind.

He headed back in to Leon who was now almost dead to the world, "that woman and her husband earlier, who were they?"

Leon raised his grizzled head his red eyes fixed on Bart, "wha...?"

"The girl that ya said ya wanted to poke day and night. Who were they?"

"Emily," he offered slumping down again. "Conrad..." and he was gone.

Bart lifted him by the hair and slapped his face a couple of times, Leon opened a gummed up bloodshot eye.

"Where do they live?"

"Bought the old Smith place twenty miles out," was all he offered before passing out again.

Bart let go of his hair not caring when his head thumped down on the table.

"Emily and Conrad," he whispered to himself.

Outside he took a deep breath smelling the pall of dust and horseshit hanging in the air. The passing wagons and horses kept it stirred up.

"Emily." he smiled.

**********

Emily and Conrad finished unloading the supplies they got from town. They heard the slow moving clip clop of hooves heading their way. Conrad grabbed his rifle and settled behind the wagon.

"Git inside Emily," he hissed.

Emily turned to head in but stopped, "if'n ya git hurt I got nothin to defend myself with in there. I'll stay here with the rifle Conrad"

He shook his head in irritation but she was right. Danger was everywhere. If he got hurt or killed she'd have nothing.

"Ain't that Black Bart?" Emily whispered.

Conrad took a good look and nodded, "wonder what he wants?"

"Yo the ranch house, Ok if I water my horse?" came the call.

"Comin in peaceful like," came the next offer. They watched him take his pistols and tuck them into his saddle bag, then cinch the buckle. He was unarmed and they had a rifle trained on him.

Conrad and Emily relaxed, "you're welcome to water your horse, Bart." Conrad lowered the rifle, "what brings ya out here?"

They watched the large man dismount and tie the horse up by the water trough.

"Old man Smith and I used to play cards once in a while. I worked for him a couple of times. I didn't have much to do today so I thought I'd take a ride out and see who bought the place and introduce myself."

He lifted a canvas bag off the horn of his saddle, "I brought some Apple Jack for ya made by a friend of mine." He held it out to Conrad.

"Well that was right nice of ya. I'm Conrad and this is my wife Emily."

"They call me Black Bart but please just Bart," and stuck out his hand to shake theirs.

Conrad and Emily looked at each other and Emily gave a slight nod. There were rules to western hospitality.

"Say it's about supper time, Bart. Why don't we put yer horse in the barn and ya can stay for supper with us. Maybe we can share a toot of that Apple Jack after."

'I'd like that Conrad. Thank ya Emily for yer hospitality. Let's get him in the barn."

The two men walked away leading the horses and wagon to the barn.

When they got back the two sat and talked about cattle, weather and the difficulties of running a ranch. Bart was quite talkative and Conrad appeared to be enjoying himself. Not that she was being left out, they made every attempt to include her in the conversation while she got supper. She surreptitiously looked Bart over while she worked.

They'd noticed him in town this morning and had crossed the street thinking it safer to stay away.

He was a huge man, a giant really. His muscular arms and chest looked more like a bull than a human. His thighs looked like two oak trees, the muscles on his legs obvious even through his pants. He was over six feet tall, easily a half-foot or more than Conrad. Heavy curls of chest hairs spiralled out of his shirt and his skin was swarthy from the sun. His beard was heavy and dark again despite him obviously having shaved this morning. His eyes were dark brown as was his hair. She couldn't help noticing his hands lying on the table. They looked to be the size of a small shovel.

With his hat off he had several little cowlicks that made him look less dangerous. She knew he had a reputation. He was kind of good lookin she had to admit. Definitely a man's man, not that Conrad suffered by comparison. The two of them would make any woman sneak a second look.

He was a dangerous killer by reputation. She wondered if he'd been pushed to that point or born mean and ornery. She couldn't ask, that would be impolite and possibly upset him.

Supper passed very pleasantly the conversation light and interesting. Bart finally slumped back after his second helping of warm peach pie.

"Emily, that was scrumptious. I rarely git a home cooked meal and yer cooking is right tasty."

Emily blushed pleased at the compliment, "that's real nice of ya Bart. I hope ya won't be a stranger out here." She blushed realizing she'd invited a notorious gunslinger to visit them again.

"I'm right pleased by that thought Emily."

Conrad was busy pulling the corked bottle open with his teeth. Splashing a goodly amount into two cups he offered one to Bart.

"To good friends,"Conrad offered his cup up.

"Whoa," Bart commanded and got up and snagged another cup. He poured a good sized drink into that and handed it to Emily. "Ya can't have a toast like that without everybody," he offered.

"I don't drink," she protested.

"it's just a toast Em, it's Ok," Conrad confirmed.

They clicked their cups together. Emily took a gulp and started choking, her face turning deep red. Conrad and Bart laughed while Conrad pounded her on the back.

"I got just the thing," Bart announced getting up, opening the door and heading outside to the barn.

Emily eyed the traitorous liquid in the cup with some trepidation, "he's not like I expected."

"No," Conrad said thoughtfully. "Could be useful having him fur a friend. If something ever goes wrong. I find myself liking him!"

Emily grunted in agreement. He was turning out to be quite likeable.

Bart came walking back in with his saddle bag and hung it over a peg, "sorry, but I feel naked without these. Danger most often shows up after dark and I like to be prepared. I'll leave the guns in the bag though." He hauled out a bottle of Sarsaparilla, opened it with his teeth and then poured her cup full.

"Try that," he said.

Emily took a cautious sip. Delicious, she loved Sarsaparilla and it made the Apple Jack enjoyable.

By the time she got to the bottom she was feeling quite giggly. When Bart went to pour a second dreg of the Apple Jack and Sarsaparilla, she demurred. The two took to teasing her until she finally gave in.

When the bottle ran dry another magically appeared out of Bart's saddlebag. Bart and Conrad were deep into their cups laughing at anything and everything. Emmy watched, feeling more than a little tipsy herself. They'd waited till her back was turned and filled her cup for the third time. She let them get away with it shaking her finger at them. They were acting like a couple of naughty boys. Of course she didn't realize they'd upped the alcohol to half the cup this time. She couldn't taste the difference after a couple of drinks.

Conrad worked so hard around the ranch it was nice to see him let go and have some fun. There wasn't much of it in their lives and Emily thought it would be good for him.

A goodly part of the new bottle had disappeared and it was dark out.

Emily realized she hadn't banked the stove. It would burn out before morning if she didn't. She staggered to her feet and went to open the stove.

"Ouch," she screamed, jerking her hand away from the burning hot surface.

In an instant Bart was standing beside her, "let me see that."

She held her hand out mutely, tears in her eyes.

"Conrad, can ya grab that small tin out of my saddlebags?"

A loud snore interrupted them. Conrad was slumped on the table passed out.

The timing was so incongruous that the two stared at him and then burst into drunken laughter. Bart put his arm around her crushing her to his side while they snickered at Conrad. Emily found herself enjoying the moment clenched up against his muscular frame. It was a spontaneous act of two friends. Bart let her go shaking his head in amusement while he fetched the tin and sat her down.

He put some salve on her burn and then bandaged her finger. He took a minute to finish banking the stove and then bent down to pick up Conrad.

"Let's get him to bed," he grinned.

One of the things Emily liked about their ranch house was the separate bedroom. So many places were small and hung a sheet to create privacy.

She stripped the quilt and sheets back and Bart lay Conrad down.

"Thanks, give me a minute while I undress him," she told Bart.

She got Conrad comfortable and closed the door to the room. Knowing how hard he worked and how drunk he was, she doubted he'd be up again tonight.

"I guess I should head back into town," Bart said, staring out into the darkness.

"Don't be silly Bart. It's late, yer drunk and it's twenty miles to town. Why don't ya bunk in the barn?"

"Much obliged if it's not too much trouble. Are ya sure Conrad would be Ok with it?"

"He'd be the first one to suggest it," she giggled. Why she giggled she had no idea, but the walls were spinning around her from all the liquor. She needed to lie down and rest.

"Whereabouts? It's pitch black out there."

"I'll show ya," she offered, grabbing the lit lantern.

He grabbed his saddlebag and they crossed the yard to the barn. She pointed out the outhouse although the guys had been pissing off the porch all evening.

Not for the first time did she curse at the location of the barn lantern. It was hung on a post so deep inside you had to feel your way through the darkness to find it if you didn't bring light. She'd suggested moving it closer to the door a couple of times but Conrad didn't seem concerned. Not that it mattered when she realized in her drunkenness she hadn't brought a match to light it. She'd have to show him where to sleep.

She took him to some bales of hay sitting in the back corner of the barn. He took the lantern from her and hung it up on a peg. He spread his blanket out and Emily realized he didn't have enough blankets. No way was one blanket going to cover that huge body of his.

"I'll get more blankets for you," she said heading back for the house. Inside she checked on Conrad while she pulled some blankets out of the closet. He was snoring worse than she'd ever heard him before. She had a quick titter, she suspected he was going to pay for it dearly tomorrow.

He had to be at work just after daylight. They had hired some temporary hands to meet him out at the camp. It was coming calving season and long, long days ahead. They had to track down the cows that calved and drive them back to the herd. Then came branding and castrating the new bull calves. It was long, dirty and dangerous work. He and Bart had been talking about it tonight. Conrad would be gone for a week camping out on the range while they dealt with the herd.

Emily would be left alone, not something she liked.

She let the dim light filtering from the lantern guide her into the back corner of the barn. When Bart came into sight he was standing there with his shirt and pants off, his drawers the only clothing he had on. He turned toward her and she found herself paralyzed. Her eyes flitted about his body like she wanted to memorize every piece of him. Especially that huge bulge in his crotch. She couldn't believe the size of it. She had nothing other than Conrad to compare with, but it sure looked big to her.

Drunk and stunned by the unexpected sight of an almost naked stranger she froze. The word "sorry," finally penetrated her drunken mind drawing her eyes back up to his. Bart was apologizing to her.

She stiffly held out the blanket to him, but he took her arm with one hand pulling her toward him. The other hand took the blankets and tossed them on the hay.

A shocked Emily stared wide-eyed at him.

He was touching her, holding her, he was going to kiss her. She could see it in his eyes. She'd sparked with a few beaus before Conrad and seen that look before. Letting a beau kiss her was harmless enough. Lord knows she enjoyed kissing them right back. This was different. She was married.

But Bart was a gunslinger, a killer, a very dangerous man. Could she afford to rile him by refusing.

In the moment those thoughts lurched through her drunken mind his lips closed on hers pulling her into him. Bart was drunk, she thought. She doubted Conrad would wake up in his current condition even if she screamed. No, she didn't want Conrad confronting Bart. An angry Conrad would have no chance against a professional gunslinger.

His lips were soft against hers, firm yet demanding in his need. She felt his tongue probe and feeling little choice, she opened up admitting him in. Those huge hands of his lifted her and plastered her tight against an unyielding bar in his drawers. Insecure with her feet dangling, she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck. The kiss went on getting deeper and deeper. She found her own tongue in his mouth tasting the Apple Jack he'd consumed. Licking around and exploring. So new, so different.

She felt rather than heard a deep feral moan from Bart. It fed her own growing arousal. She needed to stop this, but had no idea how without the potential of Bart getting angry.

Angry wasn't good with this man. Instinctively she understood that!

It was a shock when she realized that Bart was no longer holding her up. Somehow in the last couple of minutes her legs had wrapped themselves around his waist. Her dress whispered backwards down her thighs leaving her wide open. Her lady bits were in firm contact with his bulge. A bulge he was rubbing against her. Only her pantaloons and his drawers stood between them. Her own arms and legs were holding her up. When his mouth tore away from hers and started little sucks and kisses up her neck she wantonly moaned her own need.

This was getting out of hand. He was drunk, she was drunk. Somehow she had to stop.

His hands hadn't deserted the field. She was shocked again when she felt the top of her dress loosen away from her, the back no longer buttoned

"Bart, nooooo we need to stop," she breathed. "I'm a married woman and this is wrong."

Somehow she found herself lying on the blanket, the bottom of her dress flipped up and the top pulled down, her dress little more than a belt now. His mouth found her breast. Being so small she didn't need a brassiere. Exposed, they were his for the taking. She'd always been sort of ashamed of her titties because they were so little and other women had such big ones. Somehow that didn't matter to Bart. He inhaled her tiny titty with a strong suck making her gasp in delight. Only to be followed by a bigger gasp when he chewed gently on her nipple, something Conrad had never done. It sent a bolt of lightening right down to her lady bits.

It was a swamp down there. Never had she felt so wet as she was feeling now. She could feel her slit engorging and relaxing. Her body knew there was a seeding coming and was getting ready to welcome it. It was so wrong, so taboo, so arousing. With a loud groan of need her hands found the back of his head and pulled his face tighter against her titties. She cried out loud in delight when his mouth found her other lonely titty and took to lovin it.

His shovel sized hand slipped under the band of her pantaloons. With a rip he tossed the shredded remains aside. She felt the cold bite of the night air hit her groin before the naked warmth of his settled between her legs.

Covering her, pinning her. Arousing her!

She had no idea when he'd managed to shed his underwear. They were bare skin to bare skin and she shuddered at that wicked thought. Then shuddered at the thought of him just ripping her underwear right off her. That was so...brutish. No man had ever dared treat her like that. She shuddered again.