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?"