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.
Saturday Serial - Miss Sweet's Saloon Part XI
Gus was caught between a rock and a hard place, at least that is what he nicknamed the two beefy bulls holding him up by his arms. Add a thieving scounrdel eye balling him front and center and that about summed up his day. Bull shit.
What's a cowboy to do when it doesn't look like he's gonna see another sunrise? He shoots off his mouth in place of his gun, of course.
"So, if'un you ain't the devil, then wh- omph." The rock on his right jabbed him in the stomach, cutting him off and folding him in half. When Gus regained his breath and righted himself the scoundrel was showing off those crooked white teeth again in a nasty grin.
"Best not speak before you're spoken too, boy." He tilted his hat toward the group of thieves surrounding them. "Those two bulls holding ya aren't exactly the friendly type." The hands encircling Gus's arms tightened.
"In fact, they been in a mighty bad mood for neigh on 3 months now." This statement incited a variety of grumbles and sighs from the crowd. "Guess we all been feelin' pretty mean just about that long."
"But you're about to change all that, Cowboy. With a little entertainment." The scoundrel paced a tight circle around the trio, stealing Gus's hat and spinning it in his hands as he spoke. Just another insult to add to the disgrace of being unmanned in public when this group of ruffians kidnapped him from the local saloon.
"Now my little group of wandering souls here doesn't know what I know. And since I'm a betting man, I reckon' about half will be in the mood to be givin' you thanks. But the other half, those two boys holding you included, well… guess its a good thing you're gonna have lots o' friends to watch your back."
He flipped the cowboy hat back on Gus's head and stood back, boots wide and hands braced on his hips. "Now as for my feelings. Well, I find myself torn right down the middle. You might say right through my heart." The scoundrel's eyes narrowed and the pause in his tirade seemed to fill up with the weight of suspense as the crowd scrambled to understand what bush he was beating around.
Gus was sure it wasn't going to be pretty for him no matter what. He was at the mercy of a roving band of thieves, and those types of men were not known for an abundance of that particular quality.
Being outgunned meant he was little help to himself, and it was not like the townspeople were going to come lookin' for him. He hadn't made it a point to be friendly the last few years, in fact he had tried his best to be ornery. It had worked, too well. And now he was gonna die alone.
Restless muttering rippled through the throng as the scoundrel’s hostile glare sweep the crowd. "Most of you have been riding with us long enough to share our grief of the last 3 months. Death didn't steal her away from us on his raging black stallion, but her absence aches just as much." This open wound spread silence throughout the camp, mutual breaths held in tight chests as the scoundrel approached the culmination of his speech - and Gus's fate.
"She was the bosom of our family. She sang our songs, kicked our asses and told us many stories." Rock and Hard Place tightened their grip even more as the scoundrel approached Gus, stopping just an arm’s reach away with a threat in his eyes.
"Stories of horses and men and wild blood." The threat turned into a knife as he raised his hand allowing the campfire light to glint off the metal and catch the eyes off all surrounding them.
"Stories of family and love and heartbreak." The knife lowered to point over Gus's heart and he struggled against the inevitable. Death was expected but torture, that was not his cup of chicory.
His struggling only brought the knife closer to graze against his skin as the scoundrel purposefully pulled it away, catching the cloth of his shirt and ripping it wide over his chest.
A old scar glinted shiny and tight in the bright light of flames. The scoundrel circled around Gus to reveal the marred skin to all who could see, eliciting a chorus of discordant cheers and boos, only to come up behind him and place the warm blade across his neck....
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