Welcome to Saturday SerialsYou may remember Mistress Sweet from past Saturday Serials as the protective Dominatrix.
But at Mister Valance's Porch she's Miss Sweet, owner of a cozy saloon and a broken heart. Below is her story.
Miss Sweet's Saloon Part XIII - Gus's Escape
So the strange night progressed, and Gus found himself seated around a fire with a band of ruffians ordered to shoot him at the first sight of cowardly fleeing. Apparently it is much easier to threaten your victim into submission than to actually have to bind them with precious rope.
The initial fear of a live skinning had settled down into his gut as a hot mean knot. His brain as finally functioning again without a bling haze of anger.
He was clearly outnumbered, so that meant he wouldn't be fighting his way out of this particular predicament. Nope, this cowboy was going to have to be wily.
So he set about acting yellow bellied and ball-less, hunched over himself at the fire keepin' his eyes down. But his ears, no, they were perked. He was intently listening to all the conversations around him as dinner was cooked. Mighty poor last meal too, canned beans and stale bread.
He could feel the scoundrel's eyes hard on his nape more often than not. As the leader of the thieves, he seemed to be the most conniving and the most likely to see through Gus' little act.
After eatin' the scoundrel started telling tales. Tales of a woman wild as the horses she tames and the men she entertains.
Gus refused to believe these ribald memories were of his long lost love. Sweet Pea just… just wasn't that kind a girl. Was she?
He lost himself for a time in his thoughts of the young cowgirl and her mysterious rejection of him and her whole life. And the seed of doubt was planted, right next to that hot hard knot of fear in his gut.
Night lengthened into cold darkness as the fire shrunk to embers and the band of thieves bedded down.
He curled into a ball next to the residual heat and continued the charade of a beaten and broken cowboy with nothing left to live for. But he had a new burning purpose now. That seed had grown, fueled by his angry fear, and he was determined to find Sweet Pea and demand answers.
Who knows which of these outrageous stories are true, for the telling around the campfire this night was wicked and hot and passionate and raw. But one thing was certain, his Sweet Pea has been here with these men. And now he had a few good clues as to where she might have gone and he was determined to track her down as soon as he got out from under the scoundrel's thumb.
And then there he was, bending over Gus, and giving him a sharp kick to the ribs.
"Best be gitin your rest. Dawn will be bringin a very important day for you, your last."
He seemed to get an inordinate amount of humor out of that comment and walked a few paces away to settle down as sentry to his prisoner.
Gus struggled to keep up the weakling act but anger was boiling inside him again. Concentrating on breathing he focused on the beat of his heart… the rhythm of his breath… the scrape of boots and blankets.
Camp was settling down and he began to realize, not all the cowboys were sleeping alone. But for the life of him he couldn't remember any women in this group.
He was cold sleeping alone, body heat would have been a wonderful thing that cold night... but then he heard the heavy breaths and grunts to accompany the obscene images forming in his brain. Shock overcame him as he realized what he lay in the midst of and he barely registered a body slipping in tight to the scoundrel.
Dully he realized this would be his chance to escape, while the randy thieves were distracted.
And so he waited, listening intently to the sounds of pleasure given and received, and slunk off into the night on a chorus of slaps and moans ignoring the niggling feeling that this escape came a might too easy from a conniving scoundrel.
Did you miss the beginning of this wandering wild west story?
Part I • Part II • Part III • Part IV • Part V • Part VI.1 • Part VI.2 • Part VII • Part VIII • Part IX • Part X • Part XI • Part XII