Date: Sun, 27 Jan 2002 11:18:37 EST
From: Tommyhawk1@aol.com
Subject: Outcast of Lonely Rock, Conclusion

		 THE OUTCAST OF LONELY ROCK, CHAPTER EIGHT
	     "My Friends and I Dispense Some Frontier Justice"
			   By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM

     I'll admit it was with a lump of nervous fear in my throat that I rode
out from my uncle's ranch the following day, driving his team of bedraggled
draught horses and his worn-out wagon. It looked like a Conestoga had been
stripped of everything but its bed and the four oversized wheels, with not
even the sides left on it. Which made the fair-sized metal box I had
strapped to it all the more prominent. If this didn't work....
     I still didn't wear a gun, the general store had refused to sell one
to me. I was about to continue my protest when the owner broke down and
told me flat out that King Carson had passed the word about when he'd
learned of my uncle's death not to let me have a firearm. "He's madder than
hell, I'll tell you." the owner said to me. "He's even offered up a
fifty-dollar reward for the killers, I hear tell. He don't like it when
people hereabout die without his say-so."
     "Such as people like Jobias?" I said, looking intently. From the look
on his face I knew then, if I'd had any doubts before, that King Carson had
ordered Jobias' death. Which, oddly enough, made me believe that my uncle's
death wasn't King Carson's fault after all! Not that it warmed me to King
Carson any more, but a honorable crook is better than one without
honor. Jobias had refused his deal and been dealt with, my uncle had
accepted and been under his protection because of it.
     "King Carson has let it be known that he wants to hire you." the owner
said. "You won't be able to get a job hereabouts except for him. Why don't
you go on over and get hired on with him? A young fellow like you could do
a lot worse."
     So I had my own deal, or face King Carson's wrath. But I hadn't,
instead I had formed this plan. A few well-placed slips of the tongue about
town while arranging for my uncle's burial that same evening, a clandestine
meeting with the Salcedo Brothers afterwards, and then back to the ranch.
     And now, as I say, I was on the road back East, heading towards Dodge
City with a box of rocks in the wagon which my rumor had indicated was
high-quality silver ore, supposedly mined by my uncle on the quiet.
     As I expected, I made it only back to the place of my first encounter
with the bandits. And there they were once again, waiting on the trail. I
acted innocent, rode right up next to them, the ultimate city dude not
expecting a robbery.
     "Well, well, we meet again." Farley said, his face muffled by the
mask.
     I looked up at him calmly, not afraid any longer. My fear had been
that they wouldn't take the bait, or work from a firing ambush. "Howdy." I
said.
     "Box of silver, eh, kid?" Farley said to me.
     "Yep." I said as if reluctant. "All I got from my uncle. It was all he
had."
     "Well, just get on down. We'll take the wagon and the horses along
with it."
     I got down slowly. "You figure on just leaving me here?"
     "This time, yes." Farley said, and his eyes, alone visible, told of
his mirth at my plight. "Shame to miss out on that tight butt of yours,
though how tight it still is after King Carson finished rough-plugging it
that night makes me inclined to pass on it. But the fact is, King Carson
told us all to keep hands off from you, you belonged to him, he
said. Besides," he gestured with his head and I looked back towards Lonely
Rock; two horses were far off down the road, just black blobs in the
wavering heat of the day, "you'll be rescued in no time."
     "King Carson said to keep hands off me?" I asked. From two different
sources, yet!
     "Yep, I think he's sweet on you and that tender little butt of
yours. Can't say as I blame him. So you just head back to him and he'll
give you some sort of sweep-up job at the saloon and a place in his bed,
and you can earn your fare back East that way if you're so inclined. We'll
just take your wagon on in to Kansas City for you. Maybe one day, we'll
even send you some of the money, when we get rich enough."
     I stepped away from the wagon at the behest of the moving muzzles of
their guns and they didn't bother with the reins, just grabbed the horses'
mouths by the reins next to the bits and they took off like that, leaving
me in a cloud of dust, leaving the trail and heading north with the wagon,
towards the hills.
     I heard the pound of hooves behind me and I didn't look up even when
it came up next to me; I was too intent on the departing dust of the wagon,
making sure I saw where it went. "Well, amigos, are you ready to take
them?" I asked when the hooves clomped to a stop beside me.
     "I'm ready, Ben." Hunter said. Surprised, I looked up into his face,
he grinned down at me. "Hello, kid."
     "Hi." I grinned foolishly up at him.
     "Heard about this and dealt myself in. Hope you don't mind." Hunter
said. He was alone; the second horse was mine, saddled but riderless.
     "Not at all. Only, where's Alonzo and Ignacio?" I asked. That was who
was supposed to have ridden up.
     "They're waiting up ahead of those two. Been trailing them since last
night when they left the King's Palace. Come on up, kid." Hunter extended a
hand to me. I mounted up and we took off after the wagon, still a trail of
dust on the hard land ahead. The wind was blowing out of the north, while
we chewed some of the dust raised up, it also obscured our approach, so I
was glad of it.
     We almost needn't have bothered trying to sneak up, though; for when
we got closer, I saw the wagon stopped, the two bandits with their hands
up, being disarmed by Ignacio while Alonzo relieved them of their guns.
     "Hello, boys." Hunter said, and I was surprised, realizing he was
talking to Nate and Farley. "Up to your old tricks again, I see." His eyes
hardened. "First time I knew you to stoop to murder, though."
     "I don't know what you're talking about." Farley said, in a surly tone
as Ignacio pulled his bandana out from around his face.
     "Wasn't five years in the territorial prison enough for you the last
time?" Hunter said. "And didn't you know that we'd be keeping an eye on you
when we turned you loose?"
     "Prove we killed that old man." Farley said. "Or that ranch-hand."
     "I can't." admitted Hunter. "Not that a jury would convict you on."
     "So why are you stopping us?" Nate said as his mask was removed.
     "For robbery of course. A silver shipment."
     "Just a bunch of rocks." Nate spat on the ground.
     "You thought it was silver, though. I imagine that King Carson wants
to have a word with you about your last killing, though, and he won't need
the kind of evidence the territory will need to put you away, and for
good."
     Fear showed in Farley's eyes. "You're not taking us back to Lonely
Rock?" he asked. "You know King's gunning for us."
     "Now why would he be gunning for you two?"
     Farley bit back a comment and bit his lips instead. "You got to take
us away from here, or we'll never live to have any kind of trial."
     "You can get them for robbing me." I said. "On the stagecoach coming
in. These are the two who robbed me then."
     "You want to go up on the witness stand on that?" Farley threatened
me.
     I bit my lip and Hunter looked back and forth between us. "I was
wondering why you were walking out into the desert like you were when I
first met you." he said softly.
     "You're stuck, mister." Farley said. "You don't dare show your face in
Lonely Rock any longer. Your only witnesses are two chicos and a male
whore, the outcast of Lonely Rock. People may want to fuck his ass, but
don't nobody respect him." He was trying to cow me, I realized. I looked at
him and I wish I could say I felt brave or defiant. I didn't. To be honest,
I can't say how I felt. I was...detached, paralyzed. Like for all my
actions, these two had a power over me and I hadn't gotten rid of it. In
this state, I felt a hand on my arm and I was led away a few paces.
     "He's right." Hunter said to me. "We take them back to town or
anywhere else, they're going to talk about you. All about you. Right now
your secret is pretty safe and confined to Lonely Rock, because people
can't talk about you and King Carson without getting King angry at
them. But if this gets public...." He looked at me. "Ben, I respect you and
so do a lot of others back in Lonely Rock. Anybody who's against King
Carson is for you, though they mostly won't speak up in public."
     "What do we do, then?" I asked. "Just let them go?"
     "What did you plan to do with them?" Hunter asked me.
     I looked at them, and I had to admit, "I don't know."
     "We can kill them and bury them out here. Not likely they'd be
found. You want that?'
     "No." I admitted. I want to take them back to Lonely Rock and make
them stand trial for killing Jobias and my uncle."
     "Then that's what we'll do." Hunter said.
     That was the first time I'd seen Farley and Nate act scared. They'd
always been so confident, so on top of the world. Not any longer. They were
terrified.
     "You can't do that?"
     "Why not?" Hunter said. "They have a reward on you for fifty
dollars. I don't need it much, but this kid could use the money as a
stake."
     A thought struck me. "Hey, they probably have uncle's money on them
right now."
     "That ought to help prove their guilt." Hunter agreed. "Not that King
Carson is going to need proof."
     "Man, you can have the money." Farley said as he turned toward his
saddlebags. Hunter cocked his gun and the metallic tick-tick-tick! made him
stop. Instead, Alonso and Ignacio relieved their horses of their
saddlebags. "Yep, it's in here." Ignacio said after a time.
     "Come on, take the money." Farley said. "Just let us get on our horses
and ride. Man, King will kill us when he catches us."
     "So with the territorial government." Hunter agreed. "What's the
difference? You did it."
     "Let's take them back into town." I repeated.
     Farley raced forward and threw himself at my knees. He was cringing,
whining like a child.
     "Why is it that the killers always behave the worst when it's their
turn to go?" Hunter said.
     I looked down at Farley, then up at Nate who looked ready to join
Farley at a flicker of my fingertips, snap! And their power over me drained
out at last.
     "They robbed me and they raped me." I said harshly, able to say the
words at last. Then they killed my best friend, then my uncle, then they
set out to rob me."
     "Come on." Farley whimpered, clutching at my hips. I was glad now I
didn't have a gun, nothing for him to grab hold of, he just gripped my legs
and held on. "Let us go. King can have us killed even in prison. We'll go
to Mexico and never cross the Rio Grande ever again."
     "What do you say, kid?" Hunter asked me. "You're the one they wronged
here."
     I looked down. It was one thing to have them hung after a trial,
another to have them dragged out of that tiny jail and strung up like a
couple of dead hogs. Something inside of me rebelled at that. And I
realized that Hunter was rejecting that as well, when he asked me a second
time.
     "They can't be let go without punishment." I said.
     Farley looked up at me with moist eyes and it was like he was a
simpering child. Then he dove over and he gnawed at my cock and balls
within my trousers.
     I looked at him, the bandit, the one I had been afraid to face for so
many days, and now he was the one seeking some scrap of mercy from me, and
ready to do anything to gain that mercy. And with that realization came
power; I was now truly again my own master, and I felt my cock surge at the
power that burst through my soul, and I grabbed his head with both hands
and I ground it against my crotch.
     Hunter chuckled, a full, rich sound. "I reckon that'll do for a
start." He said. "Get your clothes off." he snapped at Farley. "All of
them." He winked at me. "Nobody runs anywhere on the desert buck-naked."
     Farley obediently took off his clothes while I kept his head captive
at my groin; it was like I didn't dare release him, or that would destroy
the moment, I had to keep him submissive to me.
     But as his clothing came off, with Hunter stooping and stripping away
his boots, so did Farley's ability to awe me, and when at last he was bare,
a pink form against the yellow sands, I released him and he looked up at
me, awe in his eyes.
     I unbuttoned my fly and Farley got the idea, he reached in without
prompting and fished it out, my cock springing out like a rubber child's
toy snapping back into position, and he made a small "scarf" sound as he
opened his mouth and crammed my cock into it. I felt the intense heat of
his mouth around my cock, the energy surged through my groin again and I
groaned. Hunter was there, he had removed his shirt while watching this,
and he stepped around to behind me and while Farley sucked on my prick,
Hunter undid the buttons and slid my shirt and vest from my body with one
motion. Farley reached up to pull down my pants and they ended up at my
knees. Farley's hands clutched my buttocks, not in a proprietary way, but
in a way of trying to please me any way he could, for his life was in my
hands at that moment.
     I heard a struggle and looked over, Nate was caught in Alonso's
massive hands while Ignacio was pulling the clothes from his squirming
body. Nate wasn't cooperating by any means, and when he moaned out, "No,
please, no!" it was like he was repeating my own desperate words at the
stagecoach on that day, and Alonso and Ignacio paid it as little heed at
they had on that day.
     Hunter's hands were stroking my breasts and I laid back against his
big, strong chest, feeling the hairs like a myriad of spider webs brushing
my shoulders, and I lifted my legs while Farley pulled off my pants and I
was again left with only boots on.
     Hunter lifted his legs up when Farley was done and about to dive back
onto me; Farley obediently tugged at Hunter's boots the way a man can who
knows cowboy boots, and can pull them off quickly in one motion; so did
Farley pull off Hunter's boots easily, and Hunter lifted his second foot up
and Farley took it off as well.
     I realized then that Hunter intended to be a part of this, and I
stepped aside and said, "Okay, now give Hunter the same working over you
did me."
     Hunter grinned and opened his fly, and Farley gasped at the large dong
that sprang out at him. "Please, don't put that one in my ass, man,
please!" he pleaded.
     "I'm the one gets to fuck you." I said harshly, the idea and the words
coming at the same time.
     Hunter looked surprised at my vehemence, then he said, "Yeah, he's
going to plug that gaping hole of your ass but good. Then I get to."
     "Oh, God, please!" Farley said, but on the word "please," Hunter
shoved his cock at Farley's mouth and the word died a-strangling on the
massive pole being shoved between Farley's lips.
     Farley was on all fours now, and his ass was mine for the taking. I
knelt down and aimed my slick cock at his ass, thinking that with as much
spit as he had slavered on my cock, it wasn't going to be anything like a
punishment to push it into him.
     But Farley grunted, and I realized that this man had never been fucked
before. That turned me on; he was going to give me his virginity, I was
going to take it the way he had taken mine. Not the same as restoring my
innocence, but a coin worth nearly the same in return. Like he was paying
me restitution, not the same as leaving me undamaged, but mending it as
best as was possible.
     So I wasn't gentle with the tight tuckerhole that my cockhead
encountered and my power let me keep my cock rock-hard as I pressed the
glans into his ass and began to shove at him with my hips.
     Farley groaned his pain about Hunter's cock, but Hunter held him in
place. Just the same, when I felt my cock slip inside that tight
constriction, Farley groaned and somehow rolled out of Hunter's grasp and I
rode with him as he fell onto his back.
     "Oh, God, take it out, take it out!" Farley begged.
     "You want to go back to Lonely Rock with us, then?" I asked harshly.
     His only response was a whimper. Hunter knelt down onto both knees,
his legs on either side of Farley's head and he grabbed and pulled Farley's
legs upwards, and Farley rolled upwards to rest on his shoulders like a
bolt of cloth. Hunter tucked the legs under his arms and said, "Come on,
Ben, fuck him hard."
     I had fallen out with this unexpected movement, I stepped up and
squatted slightly and pressed my cockhead back into that anus, feeling the
hot slickness there, which coated my cock and let me push it back into him
almost without hindrance.
     Farley groaned, but we had him gripped tight in this posture, and I
rested my hands on the back of his thighs and I began to hunch into him.
     I looked up at Hunter and grinned, he grinned back at me and motioned
with his head to look behind me. I did and Alonso and Ignacio had Nate up
on the wagon and were stuffing him from both ends. Nate wasn't making a
sound, but was moving his head on Alonso's cock with every sign of devoted
enjoyment. I looked back and realized that this way, both of these bandits
could repay their crime against me at the stagecoach, both could be
molested at both ends at once the way they had done me.
     I groaned at the sheer potency of that thought, this was justice of a
rough kind but more justice than they could get any other place in the
West. Eye for an eye, they gave their bodies to repair the damage done to
mine, and I renewed my thrusts into Farley's tender ass, and he grunted,
and Hunter sat down on his face and ground those big buttocks of his into
Farley's face and I humped Farley remorselessly. They didn't deserve any
better, damn them! "Murderers, thieves, rapists!" I didn't realize until
then that I had muttered those words of anger, and the anger felt good, it
soothed my injured soul, feeling better by far than fear and pain, and I
relished my role as the assailant of Farley's virginal ass, I would take it
as my right and he would have to remember it the same as I had to remember
him!
     I felt my cock surge as I thought that, and I felt the extraordinary
overall tingling at my crotch that warned me I was about to blast. I looked
into Hunter's eyes, helpless now, and he realized my situation, for he
gripped Farley's legs even tighter and changed the angle for me so that I
could fuck into him even faster, and I so I did, I humped that bandit butt
and I felt my climax surge inside of me, like a wild bronco bouncing around
the corral, seeking a way out, and I groaned, leaned over and kissed
Hunter's strong face and I jetted my jizz at that instant, while kissing
Hunter, and that small amount of tenderness entered the equation and kept
it from totally falling into the arena of animal rut. That one act, his
kissing me back, was what saved my very soul.
     So I surged with pleasure and grunted my joy into Hunter's lips,
giving it to him instead of to my rage, and he took it into himself and
gave it a home there, and when at last I was done, Farley wasn't the
recipient of my lust, he was only the receptacle, like a spittoon basin on
the floor, it held the ejected, worn-out tobacco, but the essence of the
quid remained with me with complete satisfaction.
     I realized as I recovered that Farley was licking Hunter's ass. I saw
Hunter's cock jerking in response to the laps of Farley's tongue on his ass
and I said, "Now it's your turn, partner."
     And Farley began to beg again, "Oh, please, no, that was enough, that
was all of it, he fucked me, come on, please!"
     But Hunter was relentless, he let Farley's body fall limply to the
ground and he pivoted around to get into position. I stepped away, to
observe as Hunter lifted the unresisting Farley's legs into the air again,
this time holding them against his ample chest, and then Farley groaned
with clenched teeth as Hunter shoved his cock into Farley's ass. I watched
with a stern approval the massive prong of Hunter as it pressed Farley's
asscheeks apart, and I saw how Hunter's asshole glistened with Farley's
saliva from the rimming he had been receiving.
     I looked again at my two Latino comrades, and they were still pumping
away at Nate, only now he wasn't moving much, they were plugging him from
both ends and it was a case of him being squeezed between them with each
thrust, and his eyes burned with anger and rage as he bore this ordeal.
     I leaned agains the wagon wheel, done with my part of this and saw the
pair of guns in gunbelts lying there on the edge of the
wagon. Pearl-handled, that was Ignacio's, and the dark walnut stock was
Alonso's; I knew for they had shown me their guns that first night.
     I heard a twin pair of Hispanic grunts and I knew that the Salcedo
brothers were about to blast their loads into Nate's unprotesting form, and
I looked back at Hunter who was lustily fucking Farley's butt, Farley
reduced to groans, his eyes pouring out tears and his teeth clenched tight
as he was heavily fucked by the lusty black stallion who was now my best
friend in the West.
     While Alonso and Ignacio groaned their mutual passion between them,
rising to crescendo at the same time, I felt rather than heard what else
was going on. Nate had seized this moment, this instant of their pleasure,
and he had pulled away from their grips, he was pivoting and his goal was
the guns beside me.
     Unthinking, I snatched Alonso's gun out from his belt and aimed it at
Nate. "Don't move." I warned him.
     Nate looked at me, anger searing his eyes with red flame, and he
growled. "I don't think you have the guts." And he reached on and gripped
the pearl-handled revolver. As he pulled it free and began to swing it up,
I must have pulled the trigger.
     I didn't remember doing it. It was like the gun leaped to its master's
defense of its own accord. Nate wasn't killed, but he was shot through the
right shoulder, from the top, the bullet diving down into his body. He
clapped his shoulder with hisleft hand, rolled over and clapped a spot
lower down his ribcage with the right. The bullet had passed clean through
his body, encountering only a small amount of resistance in its passage
through his ribcage and lungs.
     Not that he was uninjured. He began groaning at once, and the groan
turned into a cough.
     And so our little orgy of punishment had drawn blood after all.
     I held the gun on them while the Salcedo brothers bound his wounds and
then tied him up, and then Farley, and then we dressed and settled for
pulling pants on the two bandits.
     "We have to get him to a doctor." I said.
     "There's not one in Lonely Rock." Alonso said. "There is the priest in
Aguas Malas about three miles south of here. He is schooled in the healing
arts."
     "Let's take him there, then." I said. "If he'll make it through that
long a trip. A wagon is a jolting monster of a ride, and an injured man
could get shaken to pieces and injured worse on that ride. If a bone was
broken, it could jar in and tear who-knew-what. But it was Nate's best
chance.
     "I'll take them." Hunter said.
     "I'll go with you." I said.
     "No." Hunter said. "You go back to Lonely Rock."
     "Why?" I asked, stunned.
     "Because we need you there." Hunter said. "King Carson won't hurt
you. But he's a dangerous man. I need information on him before I can call
in the law on him and make it stick." He looked at me. "I need someone like
you there."
     "But...but...." I was trying to say, "But they hate me in Lonely
Rock."
     But they didn't, not all of them, I realized. I looked at Alonso and
Ignacio, and through them, I saw their brother Danielo and the sheriff. And
the others, the ones who had warned me quietly in the streets, taking their
lives in their hands to give me a chance. King Carson owned a lot of Lonely
Rock, but he didn't own all its people, not yet.
     If his stranglehold on the town could be broken, someone had to be the
one to do it. Someone like me.
     "Okay." I said.
     Alonso and Ignacio rode on as guards on the wagon. I watched them
bumping over the rough trails, their cargo of human scum to be preserved
for a fair trial. A priest had the best chance of holding off King Carson's
men, as much as anyone could. These two were as safe from King Carson's
wrath as they were going to get, anyway.
     When they were gone, I turned my horse back to the west. In my
saddlebags rested the sum of eight hundred dollars, near as matters. Enough
to live for years. And I could work at odd jobs to keep from appearing too
well off, not that eight hundred would last me forever. But it would keep
me for some years.
     Long enough to make a chance in Lonely Rock. I hoped. I kicked my
horse into a gallop and I rode off to face my destiny as the perpetual
outsider, the one decent people turned aside from, but whom desperate
people could turn to for help.
     For I was now the Outcast of Lonely Rock.

				  THE END
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