The Taming of Bad Bart

"Um, do you reckon," he reached down and stroked the damp curls of her pussy, "we could do it again?"

"You bet, cowboy," said the schoolmarm. "In fact, I insist."

***

True to her word, Emily never repeated the sad details of Bart Burgoyne's lonely childhood, though it was clear to one and all, the schoolmarm whore made a lasting impression on the man. Bad Bart cleaned up his person, his clothing and his language. He went about his business with a smile on his lips and always found time to share a friendly word with anyone who crossed his path.

As the author of this miraculous change, Emily became something of a local celebrity. People spoke her name in hushed tones as though she were a famous gunslinger. Men flocked to the cathouse to sample her charms reasoning as one cowpoke put it, "Any gal that can make Bart Burgoyne take a bath must be one helluva woman."

From their first encounter Bad Bart was smitten, and every week without fail he made the long ride to see her. Each visit brought with a marriage proposal but time after time, Emily demurred. She had given her heart to one man, she said, only to have it crushed by a runaway streetcar. She vowed, "I'll not marry again."

As Dorothy predicted, the railroad found its way to Rock Ridge and some of the old scratchers discovered rich deposits of lead and copper in the abandoned silver mine shafts. Rock Ridge was a booming again and Madame Nixon's house boomed along with it, but Emily Rush was not there to see these things. The schoolmarm whore had packed her valises and without a word left Colorado as quietly as she had arrived. No one ever heard from her again.

Bart tracked Emily as far as Denver but lost her trail in the mile-high city. For twenty years he roamed the western states and territories searching for her. Those who knew him at the end claimed Bad Bart Burgoyne died of a broken heart.

The end