For all the curious readers that asked for it, this is number two (Yeah I'm sure a lot of you will think it is a big steaming pile of number 2) in this extremely accurate historical tale of 'cheatin' wives. Remember this is a story, and only a story. It is not intended to piss off any one group of wankers. No actual animals were harmed in the portrayal you are about to read. LYG.
The sun glared down on his neck. The dark skin aged and weathered by many years on the trail, a red patina that showed the true being of the Tall man. He looked down, he always looked down, for the sign of his prey. Vigilant of danger that continuously surrounded him, he took stock of the threatening desert. It would be soon now, the tracks told him so. Two hours, maybe three at the most, he would catch the outlaw. His mount sensed the urgency, and quickened the pace.
The target, slumped in his saddle, the heat and exhaustion tormenting him. The black stud staggered from the many days of constant travel. He looked back at the rugged trail. Was she worth it, was any woman worth this, he thought? It was only a matter of time, before he would be in his pursuer's sights. The end would come by tomorrow, his death was at hand.
The hunter, a United States Marshal, was the proud Tall man in pursuit.
The woman, beautiful and alluring, was the wife of the Tall man.
The hunted, a highway man, was a desperado that cared little for the law or another man's property.
OK, enough of this shit. If you want to read this crap, buy a cowboy novel. If you want to read about the cheating bitch, then I'll tell the fucking story my way. So tilt your Stetson back and put your feet up for a few minutes.
Howdy, let's get down to why you're here. If you care, the name is Fishbine, Morty Fishbine. I shot a man one for calling me that. I go by Ty, and I'll hunt you down like a rabid dog if you forget it. My work is pretty interesting at times, I like it. My wife however, doesn't think to highly of it. It keeps me on the road bout as much as a snake oil peddler.
DeeAnn, nags me a lot about it. She is always bitchin about the time I spend away from home. Dee says she is always lonely and bored, so I got her a dog. You'd a thought I tried to stick a red hot poker up her ass. Goddamn she let me have it. " You asshole, that's just one more mouth to feed around here." I can tell you, there ain't been much romance in my life since.
Dee and me been married bout eight years now. She's a good woman, pretty too. Her daddy owns the feed store here in town. She thinks I should work for him and make an honest livin. I don't go in much for lugging feed sacks around. I prefer to come and go as I please.
We own a little place on the outside of town, and we got a mess of chickens, a couple of milk cows, some hogs and a big garden out back. Life is pretty good when you got a woman that can tend to all that. Dee is strong as a mule and tougher than boiled owl shit. It don't pay to get her riled.
Dee goes to church a lot, so the romancin is pretty much as you would think. Yep, Friday night after dark, she pulls her night dress up and her drawers down. She don't go for any of that stuff they do down at Bessie's saloon. Them whores really give the most bang for the buck...for five you can have em all night.
Sometimes when I'm sittin out on the porch after supper, I think back about the days when I was a pup. As a young buck I had some pussy, bout as much as I could afford. Them were some fine times. Dee, well, she's a good cook and a fine figure of a woman, but I still think of them whores time to time.
One lazy afternoon I was sittin out front of the office with my boots up. I was watchin a feller ride in to town on a big black stud horse. I didn't like the looks of this dude no how. I put it in my mind to keep an eye on him. He looked like a sidewinder if I ever saw one.
If I was a bettin man, and I am. I'd tell you this cocksucker was trouble. He was sure to cause me some heartburn. I seen it time and time again, a drifter wanders into my little town and stirs the shit pot. Hell, boothill is full of his kind. Yep, it wasn't a matter of if, but when, we tangled.
He stopped at the livery stable and slid down from the saddle. He talked to the old timer there for a few minutes, and headed to the saloon across the road. This is the same as they all did, bed their horse down and wash the dust down their throat with whiskey. The trouble didn't usually start till they had a snoot full,
A while latter I moseyed on by the saloon. I asked the barkeep for my usual coffee, he poured the snake eye with a splash of coffee just the way I liked it. The stranger was at the end of the bar sipping whiskey. I moved to him slowly watching his eyes.
"You just passin through, or are ya fixin to stay a while?" I said as I slid in next to him.
"Any reason not to?"
"Nah, just like to know what's what in my town."
"Your town? You the sheriff?"
"Close enough."
"Well, I figured on headin out in a day or two."
"You just keep your nose clean and we'll get along just fine."
"I aint't lookin for trouble."
Well, maybe he wasn't lookin for it, but it was sure to find him.
I rode on home and put ol Blue in the corral. It was almost suppertime so I washed up and headed to the kitchen. There was Dee, goddamn, I ain't never seen this before. She was standing at the table, bent at the waist, her dress was hiked up and her bloomers on the floor. Dee was tending some kind of wound on her right cheek. That big ol ass was looking mighty fine, my pecker was thinkin the same.
When she saw me, she let out a gasp and covered up quickly.
"Well, did you see what your damned dog did to me?" She spat at me.
