The old man slumped in the saddle as his big roan trotted across the plains. He had taken two bullets in a Laramie gun fight. The punk who put the bullets in him was dead and the old man was dying. He knew if he didn't get help soon, he'd be buzzard bait.
Jenny Wolfe spotted the lone rider when he was still two miles away. She went into her soddy and got her rifle. A woman alone out here couldn't be too careful. She slipped around beside her shack and hid in the shadows as the man approached. His horse stopped at her front door and the man fell off into the Wyoming dust.
She cautiously approached the still form noting that his guns were still wrapped around the saddle horn. She then saw the blood seeping from his shoulder and running through his shirt. She took her rifle back into the house along with his pistols and then dragged him inside. She rolled him onto her bed and started undressing him.
She expertly cleaned and dressed his wounds, plugging the holes so they would stop bleeding. It was obvious from his pallor that he had lost a lot of blood.
He groaned and tried to roll over. "No you don't cowboy. Just lay still. You ain't in no shape to move."
She retrieved some water for him and fed some of it to him. He gratefully sucked it down. "I'll heat up some water. You're filthy."
When the water was hot she got together some rags and sat down beside her bed. Removing the rest of his clothes was hard because he was so big. When she pulled his underwear off, his big,soft cock flopped out. She washed every inch of him and then dried him off. She left him naked because she had to wash his dirty clothes.
For the first time his eyes opened. "Where am I?" he queried.
"You're at my ranch. Lay still. You've lost a lot of blood and if I can't keep you from bleeding, you're gonna die."
"Yes maam," he murmured and dropped off into a coma again.
Jenny's husband had been killed in the war, fighting for the South. That was five years ago. She had managed to eke out a living on her own. She wasn't getting rich, but she wasn't starving either. The old man moaned and she looked down at him. Her eyes drifted to his cock. It had been a long time since she had enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh.
He had a fever and she knew if it didn't break soon she'd be burying him. All night long he moaned and cried out. He was sweating profusely. She slept beside him on her bed so she could feel him move if he tried to get up. Occasionally she would squeeze his cock when he moved too much and that seemed to calm him down.
Two days later his fever broke. He stopped sweating and moaning. He was able to sit up and take some of the nourishment she offered him. She brought him his clothes and he gratefully put them on. Being naked around a woman made him nervous.
"I'm much obliged for your help maam," he said to her. "What did you do with my horse?"
"He's out in the corral. Your guns are up on that shelf. Your boots are not clean yet, but I'll get to them soon."
"You don't have to do that maam. I can wear them the way they are."
"No you can't. They stink just like you used to before I washed your filthy butt. Just sit back and relax. You've still got a lot of recovering to do."
"So, you've seen me in the altogether?"
"Yeah, it wasn't a pixie that flew in here and washed you. Since you were next to death, I had to do it."
"How long have I been out?"
"You've been here with me for two weeks. I don't know how long you were on the trail."
"What's your name maam?"
"Jenny Wolfe and I don't put up with any nonsense from anyone!"
"Yes maam, I can see that. You're like a guardian angel. I thank you mightily for helping me in my hour of need."
As time marched on, the old man got stronger and stronger. Soon he could help her a little with the chores. Jenny didn't know what to do with him. She couldn't kick him out. She kind of wanted him to stay. He was good company and a really good ranch hand she had needed for the last few years.
The day finally came when he told her, "I've bothered you enough maam. I think I should be moving on."
"You can do what you want, but I've got to tell you that I could really use your help here. Winter is coming and things get really tough in the winter. One of these years, I'm not going to make it."
The old man thought long and hard about her proposition. He thought over his past life and how tough and dangerous it had been. Then he thought about his time here on the ranch. He had been happy here. Plus, the woman who saved his raggedy ass wanted him to stay.
"Maam, I'll stay but I want to tell you about my past life. If you still want me after that, I'll happily stay with you because I'm tired of my old life. Sooner or later some young hot head is going to kill me. I don't want that."
"Okay, tell me your story. I want to know everything."
"First of all, my name isn't Gene like I told you. It's Sam Houf. Second, I'm about the most worthless critter ever to come down the trail. I killed my first man when I was sixteen and I haven't stopped killing since. I'm fifty four now. I have forty notches carved on my guns, one for each man I've gunned down."
"So, you're the famous Sam Houf? The gun fighting legend?"
"Yes maam. I'm sorry to say I am. Those bullets you dug out of me came from the gun of a young hot headed would be gun fighter. After he shot me, I put a bullet in his head. He's dead now. I suspect the sheriff is looking for me so you could get into some real trouble if I stay. Also you may as well know that I've taken a fancy to you. I can't guarantee my conduct if I'm sleeping in your house. That's about it, I guess."
