Cody

Here you have my first story.

I have been an avid reader from a very young age, I still spend a dozen hours a week or more reading. I have written hundreds of stories in my mind, so I finally decided to put one on paper.

There are three must reads on Lit if you are a fan of Westerns.

I believe they are some of the best Westerns ever written!

Great and Terrible Things

The Walters Brothers

Split Trails Ranch

I grew up on Louis L'amour and Zane Grey, so to honor them my first story is a Western.

Chapter 1

I sat alone at the bar of the local saloon. It looked just like every other bar you could find in any Western town. Saloons all seemed to share the same business philosophy. Provide cheap whiskey that would attract cowboys, which then would provide plentiful gossip.

I sat in the middle of the bar with my head down staring at the same drink that I had been slowly sipping for the last hour. I wasn't there to get drunk, as usual I was there to listen and learn.

Whiskey always seemed to help to loosen tongues. I had learned long ago if you sat at the bar long enough you would hear any relevant local news as well as some closely kept secrets.

If anyone happened to glance at me, they would see just another drunk cowboy who was almost asleep at the bar. His head down, the brim of his cowboy hat almost touching his glass, barely moving. In reality my senses were sharp and on edge as always. I was intently listening to the conversation at the nearest table.

"The Parson's ranch up by Cody is paying riders $100 a month and found." a loud drunk cowhand declared.

"Yeah, but who do you have to kill to earn that kind of money?" Everyone knew that standard pay for a ranch hand was only $30 a month, $40 if you were a seasoned hand. Anything over $50 and you were considered a hired gun.

"From the rumors going around, old man Parsons wants to expand his ranch, but most of the neighbors are not inclined to sell. It sounds like he is gathering enough guns to make them reconsider his offers. Word is he has the Beck brothers already riding for him."

The West was full of gunmen, more dead than alive. It seemed as soon as one was gunned down, two more would step up to take his spot. Some thought they were invincible and the fastest man alive. They usually ended up on boot hill very quickly.

Some like the Beck brothers were fast, mean, and deadly. Hesitation has killed many fast draws, and the brothers had ice water in their veins. In the blink of an eye they will draw and shoot you at the first sign of trouble. However the brothers didn't follow the unwritten Western code of ethics, they would just as soon shoot you in the back if the price was right.

"If the Beck brothers are there, someone is gonna die really quick. They don't care who or how they kill as long as they get paid, some say if the price is right even women and children are not even safe. I guarantee you they are getting more than $100 a month too."

My stomach lurched and I had to swallow my dinner again as the words hammered into me. After years of violence and the talk of killing you would think a man would become immune to talk like this, but then again some wounds never heal.

At 24 years old, I had already lived two very different lives. My first life was full of love and happiness. My second life was nothing but pain and violence. The thought of love and happiness almost seemed like a fairy tale now, was it ever even real?

The last twelve years have made me hard in many ways. Hard and cold. Any thought of happiness or love was always pushed out of my mind. Now, I cherished the coldness, it was safe. Coldness would never hurt you, it would not disappoint you. You never expected anything from the cold other than pain, and the pain was always a welcome relief.

I briefly allowed myself to travel back to my fairy tail life as a twelve year old farm kid. A mother and father who loved me. An older sister, who although was a big pain in my ass, also loved me and made time to have fun with me.

As quickly as the thoughts of happy times came into my mind, they were quickly replaced by my last memory of them, seeing their murdered bodies. I haven't been able to forget the image of my mother and sister lying in the yard dead with most of their clothes ripped off, our home burned to the ground.

My thoughts of the past had me sweating and breathing hard. I found myself gripping the whiskey glass so tightly that it may shatter at any moment. The bartender was giving me a curious look so I willed myself to calm down. I pushed back the memories and felt the hate take back over. It was time to kill again. Old man Parson's had never met my parents, but it would give me great satisfaction putting another brutal bully in the ground.

With a slight grin I paid the bartender and eased out of the saloon. Walking back to the hotel I was almost euphoric with the thought of riding out in the morning to see what my return to the town of Cody Wyoming would bring me, and what evil I could find there and eliminate.

Chapter 2

I was packed up and on the trail early the next morning, eager to get to Cody. It was only a three hour ride but I had a stop to make first. Retrieving my two horses from the livery I saddled both up. The luxury of keeping two horses allowed me to switch between them every day keeping them both fresh as well as letting me carry more gear.

Even though both were saddled I would ride one, using the other as a pack horse. I always had my two pistols strapped to my side, both horses had two scabbards. Whichever one I was riding that day carried my best Winchester and a double barrel shotgun. The packhorse always carried my two extra rifles along with my pack.

After an hour's ride, I turned off the trail towards a small canyon in the distance. I knew the area well from riding on countless cattle drives into Cody. I let the horses drink and found some lush grass for them to graze on while I worked. After laying out my blanket I unloaded and took apart my two pistols. After I thoroughly cleaned and inspected them, I repeated the process with all the rifles and then the shotgun.

Satisfied with their condition I started practicing. Remembering the words my mentor had drilled into me, practice fast and you will be fast. I started with both pistols unloaded, drawing, aiming, and ghost firing as fast as I could. After I was done I loaded both of them and repeated the process with the rifle. The difference with the rifle is I practiced speed loading. I could reload the fifteen rounds it held in less than twenty seconds without taking my eyes off my target.

After speed loading each rifle several times I moved onto the shotgun, again practicing my speed loading. Since it only held two rounds, speed was even more important in close quarters. A double barrelled shotgun could kill or maim several men each time I pulled the trigger. I practiced to the point I could fire both barrels twenty times a minute.

After getting everything put away my stomach reminded me I had skipped breakfast and it was now lunchtime. I built a small fire and started boiling some water in a birch bark bowl. I shaved some of my beef jerky into it and found some wild onions I added to my little lunch stew.

While it slowly simmered, I sat back and reflected on my life.

*********************************

Financially I was in great shape thanks to a night of saloon eavesdropping. Four years ago I listened to some rustlers bragging how they had a rancher by the name of Gilbert boxed into a canyon with one hundred and fifty head of cattle.

They had killed two of his men, and the other two had abandoned him in the middle of the night. They were going to give him another few days to sweat it out and then give him a choice. Ride away alive but broke, or stay and die.

I quietly slipped out the back door of the saloon, mounted up and rode into the night towards the canyon they had him trapped in. The rustlers weren't very attentive, since there was no way one man could drive a herd of cattle past them. They didn't care if he snuck out in the night and rode away, almost hoping he would.

I rode into the ranchers camp just before sunrise with my hands in the air, right up to his fire. "Any chance you have an extra cup of coffee?" Too surprised to speak he just shook his head and poured me a cup.

Getting off my horse I joined him at the fire, never one to beat around the bush. I got right to it. "I have heard about your problem, and I came to offer you a solution. I will take care of the rustlers and help you drive the herd into Cody, but I want half."

"Half of what?"

"Half of your herd."

Gilbert looked at me in disbelief and then turned red in anger "First, how in the hell are you going to take care of the rustlers, there are six waiting outside the canyon and another six in town due back at any time. Second, why in the hell do you think I should give you half my herd?"

"Don't worry about the how, that is my problem. As for why, do you want to be alive with half a herd or dead and broke? Besides, if you don't like the deal, I can always just take the entire herd from the rustlers after they take care of you."

Logic like that is hard to argue with. He didn't like it, but I was his only solution to make it out alive and with some money in his pocket so he stuck out his hand. "Deal."

Knowing that this early in the morning the group that was guarding the entrance would still be sleeping off the effects of last night's drinking I wasted no time.

I simply walked into their camp with my shotgun and started shooting with no warning. With my quick reloading skills six men lay blown to pieces after four double barrel blasts from my shotgun. Start to finish, it was over in less than fifteen seconds. I gathered anything of value they had, loaded it onto their horses and led them back to the herd.

Riding back in nonchalantly I asked him if he would be ready to start pushing the cattle in fifteen minutes. Within five he was packed and in his saddle so we started pushing the cattle out of the canyon. As we passed through the remains of their camp Gilbert's eyes got big as he saw the carnage I had left. "Aren't you going to bury them?"

"Hell no, the varmints have to eat too. These men killed two of your men, and were going to kill you without a second thought. Now don't deserve a second thought, they were vermin who needed to die and I wont waste my time thinking about them again."

"What are you going to do about the other six that are coming back?"

"Last night they were in the saloon drinking pretty heavily and from the sound of it they would be there a few more days. We should be at least fifty miles up the trail by then, and I highly doubt they are going to kill themselves trying to catch up to whoever killed their buddies. We have roughly a hundred miles to make it to Cody, if we push them hard we should make it four or five days."

After five grueling days and nights we arrived in Cody on a cold rainy Spring day. I was chilled to the bone, wet, exhausted and miserable but I didn't leave Gilbert's side while he arranged for the sale of the herd.

I didn't think he had the nerve to sneak out of town without settling up with me considering how I took care of the gang of rustlers, but just the same I decided not to expose him to the temptation. The herd sold for $4,900. My take was almost $2500, more than I would spend in five years.

I sold the rustlers horses, saddles and guns for another $1,000, they wouldn't be needing them anymore. I put $3,000 in the local bank and went right to the hotel where I propped a chair under the door knob. I quickly stripped naked out of my dust filled clothes, laid my pistol on the nightstand and promptly slept like the dead.

Chapter 3

Although not sure why I suddenly felt the need to be with a woman. I had only been with a woman once before, a whore in Denver that cost me $2 for a five minute ride that left me unimpressed.

I was two months shy of turning twenty years old and had never been that interested in sex, probably because it was emotional and I hated to bare my soul to anyone. I tried to stay out of positions that would allow you to start caring for someone and possibly be used or hurt.

Cody hosted one of the few true brothels in the West, Lady Dela-Qua's, which happened to reside next door to her husband's restaurant. The Dela-Qua's had brought a taste of France to the Western frontier up from Louisiana. Lady Dela-Qua ran a discreet whorehouse with girls who if cleaned up nicely you wouldn't know from a lady walking down the boardwalk in any large city. Her husband was a French chef who ran one of the best restaurants in the rockies.

The Dela-Qua ladies did not come cheap, which kept away the typical dirty saddle bums like me. You were required to bathe and be presentable before bedding one of them. Many times though men were turned away after being deemed unworthy of a Dela-Qua lady. Although unplanned, this made the brothel that much more elite and the stories of its women that much more exotic.

With that in mind I headed to the barber for a shave and a haircut. When he was done he held up a mirror for approval. I rarely had the opportunity to use a mirror so I was shocked at the face staring back at me. Long gone were any type of boyish features, replaced by a strong square jaw and a tan complexion from months on the trail. The biggest shock was how cold and hard my steel gray eyes looked.

The next stop was the general store where I bought some new clothes, and even spent a little extra for a nice dress shirt, something I had never worn before. With my new bundle of clothes I made my way to the bathhouse where I again splurged on hot and clean water. Laying my gun belt on the side of the tub I let myself soak away several weeks worth of dirt and grime. Finally satisfied, I put on my new clothes, and nervously made my way to Lady Dela-Qua's.

Entering the parlor, my senses were instantly overwhelmed. There were dozens of fragrances in the air, although none were overpowering. You would catch a gentle whiff of one only for it to be replaced by another. The parlor was windowless and lit by dozens of candles. There were several plush loveseats and couches spread around the room.

A stunningly beautiful young woman was standing behind the bar polishing glasses. She had incredibly long light brown hair that was brushed all to one side coming over her shoulder and across one of her breasts.

She wore a dress that hugged her figure letting you know that she had all the right curves in all the right places. The top two buttons of her dress were undone just enough to show a hint of cleavage. As beautiful and sexy as she was, her most attractive feature was the amazing smile she flashed.

"Good day, Mrs Dela-Qua is not in, and the bar does not start serving until 3:00."

Surprisingly, I found myself a little apprehensive. I had killed dozens of men, and been in countless gun battles, yet I somehow found myself intimidated by this goddess of a woman.

"Thank you. I have never been to a brothel before and did not know what to expect. I don't even know if I will be allowed here, I understand the standards for your customers are quite high."

She gave me a long slow look up and down. "Oh I can tell for sure you will definitely be allowed. We don't get many young handsome men here, especially with shoulders as wide as yours."

Damn, I felt myself blushing which intimidated me even more. "Can you tell me how everything here works?"

She flashed me another one of those incredible smiles "Why don't you sit down here and I will tell you. Even though we are not open for business, can I get you a drink? I think I am going to enjoy this."

"Yes, ma'am a whiskey please."

Her laughter made my smile "Lady Dela-qua is the ma'am. I am barely eighteen, not much more than a little girl."

It was my turn to give her a slow look up and down, "You are much much more than a girl, from what I see you are all woman."

She blushed and poured me a glass of whiskey before continuing. "We open for evening business at 3:00. You pay five dollars just to be able to enter and talk with the girls, but you also get a free drink or two. By charging the five dollars, we eliminate the guys who just want to window shop. At 4:00 the ladies who are available for the evening come out and sit on one of the loveseats. The talkers are expected to stay at the bar until those looking for company for the night have a chance to take first pick."

Taking a sip of whiskey I was impressed by its smoothness. It had the typical burn of whiskey, but not the typical harsh fire the cheap rot gut whiskey most saloons served. I could taste a little caramel and a little oak. Thinking it was the finest whiskey I had ever tasted I was momentarily lost in thought until her giggle brought me back to the moment. "Sorry the taste of this whiskey distracted me. What are talkers?"

"Talkers are not interested in sex, they just pay the five dollars for an hour of company with a pretty girl. Many are widows who are lonely, or have ugly wives they need a break from. More than half of the people we get in here just come in to talk, it's odd but it's an easy way for the girls to make money and it's much easier than laying on your back all night."

"You are kidding me right, men actually spend five bucks just to talk to a girl for an hour?"

She flashed me a mischievous smile and said "Yes they do, and not just the guys."

"Wow, I guess I am certainly in for an education tonight. So what then, you see a girl you like, sit down. Do you barter on price, do they have price tags hanging from their ears, or what?"

Now she was openly laughing with amusement at me. "Well first you sit down and introduce yourself. The girls are not bound to accept you, here they actually have a choice to bed you or not. But like I said, you will have no problem finding company here. If a lady accepts you, she names her price. At that point you pay Lady Dela-qua and you retire to a room for the night. You are expected to be gone by nine the next morning, although most are gone within a few hours."

"Is there any chance that you are one of the ladies?" I asked hopefully.

She looked at me with the hunger of a mountain lion watching an antelope. "No, I help run the parlor, pour drinks, and make sure everyone is behaved and happy. Besides, I don't think it would be fair to charge you for the night, I would probably have to pay you."

We looked into each other's eyes for a moment, both of us wondering what a night together would be like.

I finally caved in first, "So what should I expect to spend here tonight?"

"The absolute lowest a girl is allowed to charge is ten dollars for the night, most of the girls are in the fifteen to twenty range. We have two special ladies, both named Mary who charge thirty or more a night though."

"Just out of curiosity, how much does the lady get to keep for herself?"

"She keeps half and all her tips. So they really do everything they can to make sure you are pleased to maximize their tips. Ladies are not allowed to work two nights in a row, unless they were paid just to talk the first night."

She was wonderful to talk to and we chatted for a couple hours while she prepared the bar for the evening. She poured me another whisky but refused to let me pay her for it. Soon I started hearing some noises upstairs as the brothel started coming to life for the evening.

At 2:30 the most elegant and graceful woman I had ever seen entered from somewhere in the back. Seeing me she immediately froze and stared at the girl behind the bar.