My name is J. B. McCoy and I am a very easy man to get along with. I get along with everyone and I try very hard to do so. I work at it every day. I live a very simple quiet life most of the time. Well, part of the time.
Some might tell you I am nothing like what I am telling you. But I can say with all honesty what I am telling you is the truth. I will admit I do travel around some. And I am ask to try to settle a disagreement once in a while. In fact it is part of my job to do so.
My life did not start out easy. I was born dirt poor. I inherited very little when my father was killed. We had a small ranch in southern Colorado. Two men rode into our yard. They were killers hired to move us from our ranch by a large rancher who wanted the water hole it was on. I was just sixteen that fall and my father and I were working on the yard fence when they rode up. My father reached for his rifle by the post where we were working. And one of the two drew very fast and killed him. The man turned to me.
"I see a rig hanging on the fence behind you boy. I am going to give you a chance. Put it on and when you are ready you can have your chance before I kill you."
I walked slowly over and buckled my father's gun belt around my hips and I turned to face them.
"My father was left handed, I am right so maybe not a real good chance?"
"Sorry Kid, it's the only one you get."
His hand dropped and I shot him right on the bridge of his nose. He fell sideways out of his saddle with a very stunned look on what was left of his face.
"Holy shit kid, you know who you just killed?"
"Don't know and don't care. You have two choices. Pull now and join him. Or pick him up and take him with you back to Pullerman. Tell him this place is mine and if I find him or his on my water hole I will come back and kill him."
That was twenty years ago and the first man I killed. But to this day Pullerman still leaves my water hole alone. My mother had all ready left my father when they came and killed him. She had gone to Pullerman and had become his whore. After I killed his gunman he knew I would some day come for him. Not because of my mother. She made him a very good whore.
My mother made a choice and I let her live with it. And I let Clive Pullerman live with the fact that one day I would kill him.
I was down in a little town in New Mexico two years later when a very bad man who was known to be a very bad man pointed to me and openly stated he didn't like me. We were playing poker and I had won a couple of hands against him and he was very upset. I told him I was crushed he said he didn't like me and ask what I could do to make him change his mind about me. He stated he'd just kill me. He pulled and I shot him the same place I had shot the gunman up in Colorado.
I had killed my second man. And I did so with my father's left handed rig. Now I may be faster and a better shot with my right hand? But, my left seems to work okay. So I have kept the left handed rig.
I finally settled down in the top of Colorado on a nice little ranch and went to raising cattle with the rest of the wild life of the area. I had been on my ranch for a while when the Donaldson family came through going to California. Their oldest daughter was nearing old maid age at 18 and unmarried. Old man Donaldson was really wanting to marry off his daughter. So in the few weeks they were there I easily courted young Millie and we were soon married.
I found young Millie was past the virgin stage by the time we married. She finally confided she had been pleasing several young men on the wagon train and her father had encouraged her to do so. Until he'd found me he was thinking young Millie would likely be working in one of the girl places to pleasure men.
In fact my wife told me her father had taken her to two of the places in our town. I found this very interesting to say the least.
"So my young wife, tell me about this. Did your father actually put your pretty little body on the market at these places?"
"Are you asking if he put me up for them to hire me for sex?"
"Yes, did he have you show them your charms and let them pleasure you?"
"I had sex with the owner of the Palace and the owner of the Red Hen. And they both want me."
"But it went no farther?"
"What are you asking me now?"
"They didn't try to put you to work?"
"The owner of Palace wanted me for himself, for a while. We had sex several times. But father felt the Red Hen was the better place."
"Why was that?"
"Father could see Rex Hobin excited me much more. He had me upstairs and then he took me back down for the crowd to see."
"While you were still naked?"
"Oh God yes, he just took me right down into the crowd of men. And they were just all over me."
"They wanted you."
"Yes, and they told me so as they were touching me everywhere."
"So what did you do Millie? Did you become a whore for them?"
"It was so exciting, they just took me back upstairs and they fucked me. I couldn't stop. I didn't want to. But father found you and here we are."
"So you just got to do it the one time?"
"Yes, just that once. But, he still wants me."
"Rex Hobin, does you mean?"
"Have you seen him since we got married, Millie?"
She got a shocked look.
"Father told me, I probably shouldn't tell you. But yes he has taken me down to see Mr. Hobin several times since we married. Maybe I should not do that?"
"Does he fuck you when you go see him?"
"Father says I need to keep my doors open just in case?"
"Well he could be right Millie. When are you to see Mr. Hobin again Millie?"
"Well I told Father you need to be gone a few days. He is taking me down there this afternoon right after you leave. Is that okay?"
"Millie I will be gone more than 3 weeks. Would you like to become Mr. Hobin's and work for him while I am gone?"
"Can I do that while you are gone?"
"Yes Millie, I think that might be good for you. I will talk to Rex before I go. I am a bit surprised he has been fooling with you before talking to me."
"Oh he doesn't want you to know. He was going to keep it very quiet while you are gone."
"My that would cut your fun of it while I am gone. No my sweet Millie your sex needs put on display for them and you need to enjoy being their whore."
"You don't mind your wife being a whore?"
"No my love most women are whores in one way or another."
"Do you love me, my husband?"