This is just a silly story that was created from the writer's own imagination. I hope you all enjoy reading it.
All participants of this story are 18 and older.
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Now when I was no taller than a short duck I decided to haul my own self out west. I been out here nigh-on-to twenty-years now.
Some damned easterner had once said, "go west young man." So, that's just what I did.
Little did he know what type of world that he was sending folks into. There were the native Americans who were trying to hold onto what was left of their world while the white eyes fought to take everything away.
The outlaws were trying to take away everything they could get their hands on away from the hard-working folks who fought so hard to try to earn a living the honest way.
Then you got the Mountain Man. Me and my friends tried to keep out of everyone else's affairs but somehow, we just kept gettin our fool selves roped into something every time we turned around.
So here I am on my old Palouse stallion, Digger and a dog I call Banjo that kinda latched on to me, and my pack horse that I just call Buddy.
The sun was slowly descending over the horizon leaving streaks of gold across the evening sky. I made camp in a clump of trees next to a nice little creek. After taking care of my horse, I found plenty of fuel for a fire, put some coffee on to boil and started some supper.
I noticed Banjo started with a low growl like someone was close by. Suddenly from right out of the blue an Indian came stumbling into camp. She was badly wounded and passed out right next to me. Immediately I went to work tending her wounds. Using some of the Indians techniques, I gathered moss from the trees and soaked them then, applied them to the wound.
This young Indian girl, who looked to be from the Absaroka tribe, was as beautiful a young lady as I had ever seen. She had long black hair, slim body, nice plump breasts, and beautiful eyes.
The following afternoon as I prepared for my nooning the young girl finally came too. As she looked around she started to raise up but the pain would not let her rise. As she looked around she caught sight of me.
"Hello. I'm glad to see you awake. Can you speak English? I asked.
"I speak little." She answered.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"I am called Keme." She replied.
"I am called Mac." I said. "You have a nasty wound on your side. You'll be ready to travel in a day or two. I will take you back to your people. How did you get shot?"
"White hunters wanted woman." Keme said. "When they attack I run. One of them shot at me."
"If I ever find out who did this to you, they will pay. I can promise you that." I meant every word of what I said. I would be looking for them.
As we ate that night I sat with my guns close by, Old banjo started growling again then I heard someone approaching.
"Hellooo the camp. We smelled your coffee. Can we come in? Came the call from the trees.
"Enter if your friendly." I answered.