August Moone
Timing is Everything
Chapter 17
Old West Metropolis

	Deadwood, USA
	It seems as though every state (or territory) has got a town named Deadwood, or Walnut Grove, or Springville.  One is no different than the other; small, rustic, homey.  Farmers and ranchers flank the town, there’s usually a train stop, one to two saloons with one to two brothels!  A post office, sheriff’s office, one to two churches, at least one school, livery stables, and general stores.
	August Moone and the Reecey family rode in three days after leaving the mountain cabin.  It was cold up on the mountain, it was hot down on the valley.  August preferred the hot; he could never get warm enough.
	August rode straight to the sheriff’s office where he told the tale of Dakota Jones, in not so many words about his strange doings with the Reecey’s, but the killing of Marshall Guillion.  August handed over the former Marshall’s six shooters, his badge, and the reins of the Marshall’s horse.
	August also told about the Indians.
	Mark backed August’s story up and once more August was the hero of the town.  It came with perks and that was cool with August.  The Reecey’s were taken in by one of the local churches, August got a free beer and a free room at the most popular saloon in town, The Short Stump Saloon.  (you figure it out…) lol
	The sheriff informed August that he was due a reward.  August declined it and instead had it go to the Reecey family.  He scored points with this and in the days that followed was offered a job at the local general store.  He didn’t have to pay for his room at the local boarding house, either.  In facts, he didn’t have to pay for nuttin’!
	He liked the town, it was small, quaint, late American West Americana.  It was bigger than Walnut Grove, more people, more buildings, more people.  Since he didn’t see himself “advancing” or backtracking further into history, 1875 Deadwood, USA would have to do.
					*****

	For two weeks he kept his nose clean--which was hard to do beings as how many pretty young lasses there was in Deadwood, and his propensity to drink.  But he managed and kept himself out of fights, though he was strongly tempted.  On a couple of occasions he helped break up a couple of those fights.
	One evening he was strolling to his favorite watering hole when his Narly Senses kicked in.  Beings as how he figured he was going to making Deadwood his new home he had decided to play it very-very cool and keep any Narly Business on the q-t.  He was startled when suddenly his HeadsUpDisplay popped up into his vision without him having to blink five times in quick succession.
	He steadied himself and then began concentrating on what he saw, or didn’t see.  He found a new element to the HUD-Device, Zoom.  So, he concentrated and brought the highlight icon down to the Zoom feature and the HUD acted just like a power zoom on a camera or rifle scope.  A blinking red triangle icon was seen, he followed its path until a blinking green dot came to be, indicating that he was right on track.
	Power zooming more he saw that across the huge wide street at the local bank there was some activity.  Now, beings as it was nine o’clock in the evening--”activity” at the bank shouldn’t be.  August knew the banker, Mr. Sims, was with his wife and children; it was time to once more “get involved.”  besides, he had as much as $60 in that bank!

	He realized that firstly he should have got the sheriff, this was, of course, his town and jurisdiction.   But curiosity being what it was--August had to have a peek firstly just to make sure that contacting the sheriff was a wise idea and not something frivolous.
	Sure, the “activity” in the bank could be legit but he didn’t think so.
	Especially when he saw a lone man with four horses hiding in the alley.  There were three men inside the bank, no lights.  August didn’t need no stinkin’ light, HUD and Zoom feature of the Device gave him infra vision.  Was the Device Advancing in technology?  August wondered, he at length assumed that those things of the Device that he had not been able to decipher or uncover, understand, or unlock were apparently unlocking themselves as time went on.
	Oh well.
	The men were all slinking about, wearing masks and being very careful not to make any noise.  The thing with the Old West, if one wasn’t careful--or even if he was--one could find one’s self DEAD very easily and quickly.  August was no gun, he wasn’t “quick on the draw” or anything--just a matter of desperation.
	With extreme stealth he stole up against the adjoining building, the air was quiet and still, only in the background down the dusty street could he hear the faint sounds of Bones on the piano.  Casually August had also come to realize some significance to his being in 1875:  he knew of worldly events that were to come.  Who was to be president, who was to be assinated, the stock market crash, the dust bowl migration, the inventions, everything.
	These things could assail him into something of a wizard, a grand Seer.
	He held this notion in check and continued his meager existence in Deadwood.
	If’in he didn’t get himself shot!
	He was out of his league, regardless of his “special” abilities.  Outlaws back in the Old West were usually fairly quick on the trigger--and usually not too caring on who they shot, either!
	He firstly determined that the lone fella needed dealin’ with first.  August carefully brought into play the Mind Control Ability successfully, captured the man’s brain wave pattern and sent him off to sleep--placing his gun belt on the ground by the horses as well as lowering his pants to his ankles.
	August collected the gun belt and deposited into the nearest rain barrel.  The back door to the bank was open, with extreme stealth he braced against the door sill and peered in; using the infra vision power zoom he saw the men feverously working away at the large vault.
	Thinking ahead as to how this might play out, August carefully closed the door behind him, then placed a chair up against it.  He scanned the bandits and determined that he could just as easily “zap” them.
	Don’t ask why, but he didn’t do that.  
	He instead skillfully slinked along and peered over the counter into the private area where the vault was.  One man was “drilling” into the tumbler of the vault.  August saw (using the infra vision) a sack containing a couple of sticks of dynamite.  One man kept watch, the other non-drilling man had a bullseye lantern giving off a faint glow of necessary light.
	“Tain’t gonna work,” spoke up the drilling man, “we’re gonna have to blast.”
	“Son-of-a-bitch!” griped the man holding the lantern.  “We can’t do that, we’re gonna bring the whole dern town on us!”  then, “Keep drillin’.”
	The drilling man shook his head but did as told.  
	The window shades were all drawn and the place locked up tight.  The more he thought about it, the more he realized that contacting the local sheriff would have been a wiser thing to do.  He held off zapping the three hombres for a bit more.  If he was going to live and survive in the Old West, the Device embedded in him might no always function and he would have to make his way--one way or another.
	To aid him a little more--without mind zapping the bandits, August used the Inviso Mode, he hoped it was functioning, all indicators told him so.  With this mode he breathed a little easier and moved unseen about the bank blocking the door.
	His movements though not seen were heard.  The bandits were paranoid and on alert.  
	“Keller,” spoke the apparent leader of the bunch, “go check that out.”
	“Keller” frowned and looked cautiously around then began peering around into the bleak darkness moving towards the back door.  August held himself up against the back wall as “Keller” moved listlessly along the hall to the backdoor.
	Right when Keller reached the piled stuff against the door and muttered, “What the hell?”  August hit him, in that area behind the head & neck that’s supposed to render subject unconscious.
	Didn’t work.  That only happens in the movies.
	Keller WAS injured and taken off his guard, but not rendered unconscious.  He stumbled a bit and August had to pummel him with a sock to the stomach.  Keller flung about wildly not seeing his attacker.  August grappled with him and wrestled him to the ground.
	“Keller!  Keller!  What the hell’s going on?” whispered harshly the leader.  Keller wasn’t going to answer, he had clunked his head (finally) against the back room stove and was out.
	August had a banged up shin and it smarted greatly.
	The leader called out for Keller, August slinked back into the main room and noted he was a little woozy and his HUD was winking out.  He tasted some blood in his mouth and felt a sting to his temple.  He found a small wound there and realized Keller had managed to get him after all.
	This was not good.
	The lead bandit came around and made his way to the unconscious Keller, moments later he was calling for “Digger!  Digger!  Git over here!”
	“Digger” came running.  August paused a moment and thought carefully how he was to get out of this, the HUD had went off-line and he felt a little ill.  Something flashed in his mind, he mulled, thought, and then as gracefully as he could made his way to the vault, spotted the satchel in question and made his play.

	KA-BOOM!
	August went flying through the plate glass window, hit the dirt and rolled, dislocating his shoulder in the process.  He sputtered and no longer could hear and barely could he see.  But he saw well enough staggering out the blown up door of the bank the one called Digger.  The man staggered and bashed against the rail and then steadied himself, he focused himself on the tumbled August, he made a play for his gun--then grabbed his chest and toppled to the boardwalk.  
	To his left he saw Sheriff Kombs with smoke wafting from his Colt revolver.  A small crowd had suddenly appeared, they had heard the KA-BOOM from the bank.  August shook his head to try and clear it, this had been a bad idea.
	Kombs ambled over, “You alright?”
	To wit August wiped the blood from his mouth, still trying to clear his thoughts, still laying on the ground in an awkward position.
	“What went on here?” Kombs asked.
	August was about to answer when he saw something at the side of the nearly destroyed bank.  August reacted and shot through the Sheriff’s legs.  “Digger” stumbled out into the light and fell to the ground.

					****

	There was some explaining to do and August did his best to cover his ass, explaining that he had come upon the would-be bank robbers and knew that there was no time to get help.  He intervened just as they touched off the dynamite to the vault.  The sheriff couldn’t believe the stupidity of the bandits, “blowing a bank vault so early in the evening--didn’t they know that was dangerous and foolish!?”
	The only survivor of the bandits was Tom Thorn who was found in the alley with his pants down.  He was promptly arrested and sent off to a federal pen (in a serious state of confusion…)
	Well, what’s the point of having narly powers if you can’t use them?  His HUD was off-line only a couple of days, long enough for him to recover from his wounds.  Once more he was hailed the hero.  On the day that the doctor released him and allowed him to go about his business August was summoned to the sheriff’s office.  He figured a chewing out.
	He figured wrong.
	He was handed a deputy sheriff’s badge.
	Imagine, August Moone, Pervert Extraordinare!
	With the badge came steady work, more perks, and becoming quite the citizen.  Being deputy gave him opportunities abound.  He now had the task of checking up on the town’s buildings, thus giving him some nifty insight on peeking in on the peoples; with the HUD fully functioning he easily went into Stealthmode which include Silent Tread and Invisibility.
	In this manner he got to see those pillars of the community--just like in Walnut Grove, doings those things that no one would suspect.  August casually wondered about other eras in time, Colonial times, the times of the Pilgrims, before that in merry ole England.  He assumed that those times, too, had their “pillars” of community involved in less than “pillar” doings behind closed doors when the lights were dim.

	He found Pillar of the Community John Gambos sitting in an armless wooden chair with his precious ten year old on his lap.  Both were unclothed, John had his hands clamped tightly onto the young girl’s bottom and was working her up and down his shaft.  During the day John ran one of the more profitable businesses in town, was on the committee for a cleaner & neater Deadwood, including changing its name to something more appealing.
	During the day his precious ten year old daughter could be seen throughout the town, long dark curly hair, the most pleasant child you could ever meet, friendly and outgoing.  She had a lovely voice and sang in the church choir.  
	After succumbing to a delicious orgasm, John laid his daughter next to him, up against him, caressing her ass, diddling her hole, his cock still nestled nicely up inside the child’s cunny.  The child didn’t seem distressed and August went on…
	He nextly found two more Pillars of the Community, Carla Bylery and Eunice Bemount having a little social get-together.  It was late in the evening, the two were proud members of their church, they were organizers, instilling God and virtue throughout the town; getting the citizens all worked up about the brothels and taverns, saloons, and blatant debauchery.
	However, those same worked up citizens would have conniptions should they be as privy as August.  In a private bedroom the two 30-something year old women were butt naked 69ing one another, spanking and with Carla on the bottom shoving in and out of Eunice’s asshole a wooden hand carved dildo!

	There was in the town of Deadwood a non-denominational church, Lutheran, Baptist, and a small congregation for a Catholic church.  At the Lutheran church August caught sight of the associate deacon paddling the bare behind of one lad approx. 10 years young.  The boy was nude.  The deacon walloped the boy until his little ass was tomato red.  Thereafter the lad was stood up and his wares fondled until the deacon was worked up, he then unleashed his German schlong and proceeded to re-spank the boy’s ass with it until at length he simply bent the boy over and began poking him in the backdoor!
	At the Baptist church two boys stood nakedly by while a third naked boy of twelve slurped off on the chief minister!
	The Catholic church head priest and assistant had one boy on his back, legs pulled back and hammering home the bone to the lad’s poop chute.  

	Pillar of the Community and president of the Businessman’s Association, was in bed having fun with his good equally Pillar of the Community wife--and their very pretty teenage daughter!
	
	While taking a little walk to think things out one day August came upon the Baptist minister who was in company with one of his parishioners.  Both were mostly naked, especially the part that mattered.  The teenage parishioner about 16 years young laid out on a blanket mostly nude.  Her top was open to expose her delicious cantaloupe sized breasts.  
	Between her bare legs was the Rev. Galvin Hayes and he was pumping into her for all he could.  Out just beyond the town they were, out by the small grove of trees, deadwood logs scattered all about, and a field of dry grass.
	The girl made noises, some of pleasure some not so.  The reverend spatted out words from Scripture and fucked the girl until he got his nut.  He then rested, still on top of the girl, sucking on her titties and lightly continuing to pump into her sopping wet well fucked cunny.

	Two young boys fishing at Deadwood Pond August came upon.  They were nude and nothing more.  Not until August came upon them.  He heard them giggling, they made “fart’ sounds, peed into the pond, and fondled themselves.  August hunkered down behind a log and began manipulating them, first one and then the other.
	He had the boys stand together, hip to hip.  He had them rub/caress each others ass and then stand back to back ass to ass.  The boys were both okay with this but also at odds.  They weren’t really aware that they were being manipulated--none of the Victims were, they were only mildly aware that this was not overly normal.
	Soon the boys turned to face one another, embrace and grip one another’s ass.  Then, for August’s pure enjoyment they began kissing.  Neither lad was into this but couldn’t stop themselves.  They got just a little upset about the “force” compelling.
	They soon had more to get upset about--August had “Charlie” turn about and BEND OVER, hands to his knees.  “Christopher” went to his knees and eyed his friend’s bare ass.  Both lads were very well tan, Charlie had thick dark hair all unkempt, Chris had sandy brown hair and was a few hairs shorter in height.
	Chris seriously hesitated and Charlie looked back and under him to determine what was going on.  August smiled and massaged his favorite organ then “compelled” young Chris to lean in.  Charles’ expression was classic--he was appalled, shocked, stunned, appalled some more, then shock & stunned.  He had never had his “rim” licked out before.
	Chris, too, “reached around” and began fondling his best friend’s cock and balls all the while his tongue danced a jig in the pert puckering funk hole.
	After just a couple of a minutes Chris stopped and laid down on his backside on the sand by the pond’s edge and brought his legs back.  Charlie looked down at his very naked friend in serious awe.  Then that mysterious “force” compelled HIM to move down and began tongue lashing Chris’ a-hole, his balls, and to suck his friend’s cock!
	Sodomy came nextly.   Charlie scooted up and began poking Chris’ asshole with his finger and then his rock hard cock.  Both boys protested but couldn’t stop themselves.  Charlie eased himself into Chris’ hole and pumped away. The taste of Chris’ cock in his mouth was still prevalent so his amazed stunned awe overwhelmed him, the act of “fucking” was secondary.
	Secondary until that special moment arrived that all boys (and girls) strive for.  It was glorious and more than words could speak.  On his own now Charlie humped madly as the “feeling” was sensational.
	Chris could do nothing but bare it, hold his legs back and feel his friend’s schlong working away at his poop chute.  August instilled within the lad that he DID feel some pleasure from the fuck, butt fucking was the way to go, along with cock sucking, hand jobbing, and rim jobbing.
	There was a little orgasm for butt fucking Charlie, he spewed some juices into his friend’s hole and sat back seriously masturbating himself, mind blitzed and whammied.  Chris sat up, fingered his hole, fondled his cock, then uttered, “My turn.”
	August was pleased.  And pleased even more when Charlie obliged, turning about and spreading his cheeks.  The boys were now on their own and happily for the rest of the day they spent dogging one another, skinny dipping, licking each other’s hole, ball washing and the whole twelve yards.

					*****

	The town of Deadwood was going thru some changes; growing, expanding, and so forth.  The Ladies Auxiliary were making the most changes, busy bodies making changes no one else cared for.  Their intentions were good and all, it was just that it was upsetting to most folks of the town, especially the Male Members of the town.
	The Sheriff’s Office received an awful lot of flak from the Ladies, due to the inability of the SO to do anything about the debauchery plaguing the town--namely there were too many saloons/taverns in the town and too many brothels.
	But they were legit businesses and everyone (of the male community) needed them.  They broke no laws, paid their taxes, were respectable.  This didn’t sit well with the Ladies.  They banded together and seriously became annoying.
	August felt that someday the Shit was going to hit the fan.
	It did.
	Ms. Bertha’s House for Wayward Girls was set ablaze one night.  Everyone came running out of the House and while the Volunteer Fire Brigade began a futile attempt to put out the flames, the mayor was rescued from the burning building.
	His wife was not amused.
	Ms. Fanny, of Ms. Fanny’s House of Lovely Unwed Girls was heard to say, “Why Mayor, I thought you were spending the night at OUR house!”
	The mayor’s wife in the crowd about had a fit, she was speechless--just for a moment or two, then flew into a rage.  “See, see!” she barked to the gathered crowd, “THIS is what happens when you let riffraff into our town!”
	Humph, she was blaming the Madams instead!  But the mayor wasn’t to be off the hook that easy.  When he came up to her to calm her down, his bathrobe all singed, hair all misplaced, smudge marks of lipstick and smoke all over his face, she turned about and hauled off and slapped him.  Then stomped off in a huff.

	Well, the Ladies Aux got more and more involved, causing more harm than good, no one was arrested in the first burning/arson but August became aware of one of the Ladies leaving the scene of Ms. Fanny’s burning building.  He nabbed her and she ratted out the mayor’s wife and several others.
	She was arrested and jailed regardless.
	On night watch August confronted her, she was seriously distressed, pissed, and a bit worried.  She was not a strong member of the Ladies Auxiliary, just a patsy.  She was well dressed and not accustomed to having to use a “piss” bucket during her incarceration.  
	And although she was of good stock, her family had a couple of businesses in Fargo and Dodge City, her husband ran one of the merchantiles, she actually had little money.  There was no bail for her to get out and she would have to sit out the weekend in jail and come Monday morning face the local judge for her sentence.  (which the Sheriff supposed would be probation and a little fine.)
	But regardless, the entire weekend in jail.  The law was the law.  Sheriff Kombs lost points with the citizens--the female ones anyways.  (but they weren’t the ones who voted--the 14th Amendment hadn’t come to light just yet.)
	She was heartbroken and defeated, a small gathering of her friends assailed the jail, bringing her food and a hope for justice.  They were vigilant and pesky and trying to stir up a fuss.  When threatened with being jailed themselves they settled down--some.  Until, that is, uppity Dora Dilworth showed up--the mayor’s wife.
	She DARED to be jailed.
	So she was.
	She raised more fussing than a wet pussy--cat.
	“Why don’t you shut yer pie hole!?” yapped August, he was having enough of the uppity bitch.  An idea was forming in his noggin, a narly one.
	Ms. Dilworth was aghast as August for talking to her in such a manner.
	“Why you dirty little heathen--” she yapped, “how dare you!”
	“How dare you!” yapped back August, “You ain’t no fucking better than the rest of us!”
	Ms. D nearly collapsed.  She wore her Sunday finest, frills & lace, fancy hat.  It was triflely hot inside the jail cell, she fanned her self, reeked of expensive perfume, and huffed more hot air than a balloon.
	“You know, if the town’s folks knew about you and Hank Shiver they’d think different about you.”
	Ms. Dilworth’s eyes went glassy.  ’Oh my god!’ she gulped for air and stared at August.
	“Yeah, that’s right, I know.” then, “I saw you and Hank the stud out at the barn dance up in the hay loft.  Tsk! Tsk! Tsk!”
	Ms. D could hardly contain herself.  She was speechless, a first!
	August HAD seen the mayor’s wife up in the hay loft, AFTER the big barn dance a few weeks past.  Butt naked and romping with the handsome stud Hank Shiver who was muscular as all get out, worked at the train depot hefting big heavy sacks of everything.  He was not yet twenty years old, had a cock like a horse, and fucked Ms. Dilworth far into oblivion, then fucked her again, sucked her titties, spanked her, and fucked her doggie-style.
	Directly across the hall in the next jail cell sweet innocent patsy Melody Percival stood in shock.  “Is this true, Ms. Dilworth?”
	Dora frantically romped about her small enclosure, to lie or tell the truth.  “Of course it’s not true, he’s-he’s making it all up, trying to contort the issue!”
	“I could get Hank, he’s an upstanding citizen, unlike yerself, and I;m sure pressed with the Law that’d he’d come clean with the truth, unlike yerself!”
	“You shut the fuck up!” bitched Ms. D.
	August smiled.  Ms. D stumbled back, shocked that she had uttered such an obscenity.  “What you need, bitch, is a good ole fashioned spanking!”
	“Don’t you dare touch me!” she hollered.
	“I won’t, but--” and he left it at that.

	He had his hands full, using all his Device talents he brought the town of Deadwood together for a glorious justice deliverance.  It wasn’t easy and gave August quite the little headache, nosebleed, and a persistent ringing in his ears.  His vision was a little blurry but regardless--he saw well enough for his Narly Plan to come to light.
	Young Ms. Melody was let go come the break of day--this after a brief romp in the back room of the jail whereupon she stripped down and gave herself semi willingly to Deputy Moone.  She sucked his cock and balls, loved on his bare ass and spread her legs for him.  August fucked her into Oblivion, brought her back, then sent her there again with his mighty prowess of humping.
	As for Ms. Dora--she was taken out and bent over the railing outside the sheriff’s office.  Then before all the citizens she had wronged, put off, pissed off, been rude to, ex cetera, she was humiliated beyond belief.  Her fancy too expensive dress was pulled up over her and her underclothing pulled down.  Her bareness greeted all.  Then, with a strap from the local barber shop she was spanked--five times by each person she had wrong, put off, pissed off, ex cetera.
	The mayor got his licks in, too.
	Of the Pillars of the Community, it was beset upon them that they were no better and that they had no choice but to tolerate the offence, they even took up the strap and “humiliated/humbled” the woman into utter obedience.
	She would never again be the same.
	Ms. Melody and Ms. Dilworth weren’t simply let off so easy--they both had to pay back Ms. Fanny and Ms. Bertha for the damages to their “houses.”  soooooo, Melody and Dora went to work for them!  The male citizens of the town, including August and Sheriff Kombs, came to “see” how the two were doing.  
	The two new “Ladies of the House of Love” were only part way to repaying their debt when the 7th Calvary showed up!!
	August stayed on in the town of Deadwood, eventually seeing its name changed to Prairieville.  He came to court one of the ladies of the town, continued his spying efforts, taking liberties when he saw fit, was involved in a harrowing shootout with the Clancey Brothers whereas Sheriff Kombs was killed.  August Moone then assailed to the new sheriff!
	In the summer of ’85 he struck out after Thom Horsecraft, a very wanted man who had robbed stages, trains, and left no witnesses in his wake.  August had become, in part, an honest man, an honest lawman.  He was proud of his accomplishment, still fooled around with the citizens, naturally--with a Device embued to him you just don’t let something like that go to waste.
	He left young Hank the Stud in charge of Prairieville and headed off into the badlands.  

	He didn’t find Thom Horsecraft, instead he find another wagon train massacre.  Following THAT trail he found a small Indian encampment--the same tribe he had had encounters with before. 

					****

Indian Party
	Watching from the cover of some huge boulders on a hill overlooking the Indian encampment August got a good looksee at the narly shenanigans below.  It wouldn’t be so bad if the blokes wouldn’t be so cruel and murderous.  The raping and pillaging of the settlers was one thing, the scalping and throat slitting was quite another.
	But there were too many for August to take care of, a dozen or so not including a dozen more womenfolk Indians.  And the latter didn’t seem to care one iota about the treatment to the white settlers.
	There was nothing to do but wait it out, see if a few of the purple painted bastards would take off for a “hunting” party or something.  These Indians wore purple paint, especially on their schlong and asses, while in camp they were usually totally nude, only when riding horses on a long trip did they wear any form of clothing, and only then to serve as protection.
	Just as the sun began to set five of the twelve Indians of the Purple Schlong Tribe vamoosed, two went off on their own by foot while the others rode off on equally painted horses.  Most of the Indian women (also equally painted as well as partially naked) disappeared into the small huts and teepees.
	That still left too many to deal with, he was getting pretty good with the rifle and six-shooters, but he was alone and they weren’t.  They could move fast and he didn’t what the womenfolk of the tribe would do.  He waited, hunkered down into the rocks and waited.
	Presently one of the Purple bastards strode up to the Survivors of the doomed wagon train, they were tied to poles out in the hot blazing sun.  The sun, though, now was sinking in the west--along with their hopes of survival.
	All around the encampment the dead bodies of the wagon lay scattered, stripped of their clothing.  August didn’t see any signs that the Purple Tribe were cannibals, but he wouldn’t put it passed them.
	It was a scrawny wiry thin Indian with huge muscles on his arms and legs, just a skinny torso, long thick dark hair with purple streaks clear down to his butt crack.  Butt naked he was, he strode up to the center pole where the only surviving adult was lashed to, a woman.  Dark brown hair, kind of tall, mid thirties, typical prairie attire for a wagon train ride.  
	The Indian ripped the dress to shreds from her body exposing her flesh.  To her boobs her fondled her, tweaking the nipples and pinching them until the woman began to twist and contort.  The big-scrawny Indian smiled, sneered, and grabbed her between the legs, leaning in he began to suck on her breasts--and bite!
	August clenched the Springfield rifle in his grasp, he was sure he could take the Indian out, but what about the remaining six?  
	After a bit of  noshing on the breasts the Indian stepped back, waggled his purple painted schlong then stepped to one side; here a pretty twelve year old girl with super fine long blond hair, blue eyes, typical prairie attire as well, stood trying not to look at the man’s nudity.
	Her dress was already partially torn, she was dirty and bruised and terribly horrified at her plight.  The big Indian ripped and tore her dress from her body, fondling her budding breasts and pressing himself against her, hands gripping her bare ass.	
	The woman next to her began to freak, rant and rave and try to kick, her feet were untethered.  The big Indian fuck paid her no mind and wrenched the twelve year old’s legs up around his waist and “put it to her.”
	The young girl screamed, freaking out herself.  Big Purple slammed himself into the girl without mercy, deflowering her quickly and not into the sex act for pleasure.
	After pulling away from the horrified girl, he sneered some more and took a moment to suckle on her young buds, fondle her ass roughly and spank her hard until he had had enough.  He then stepped to the left, passing the enraged woman/other.
	The ten year old lashed to the pole here freaked out, wailing and carrying on, Big Fuck ripped her prairie dress off, wrenched her legs up and began slamming himself into her.  
	August leveled the rifle on the rock he was hiding behind, sighted in, held his breath--squeezed the trigger.  Big Fuck paused a moment, held tilted back, mouth open, eyes bulging staring up to Great Grandfather, then fell away with most of his brains splattered onto the captives.  (sorry about that)
	Another shot popped another Big Fuck square between the eyes, his third shot stuck one in the shins.  And as he figured, one of the womenfolk Purples came out with a rifle of her own and scream some Indian obscenities at him.  August fired off a round to her and fell back rubbing his eyes as a bullet had shattered rock debris into his face.
	Bullets and arrows were falling all over the place.  It was time to move.

	He moved as quickly as he could, he wanted to make for his horse down in the nearby gully but two Big Fucks came around through the bushes there and cut him off.  A bullet struck his hand and went clear thru, regardless, it HURT.
	He stumbled and fell, then rolled and dislocated his shoulder, he dropped the rifle but with his good hand managed to bring out one of his six shooters.  Which was good, he popped off three rounds into a looming Big Purple Fuck and stopped him DEAD in his tracks.
	Two others, though, were coming fast.
	August bolted down into the dry wash and began running.  Some rescue.  
	Bullets and arrows whizzed by at an alarming rate, one arrow pegged him in the calf.  It sent him sprawling but he managed to collide with a jutting boulder, keeping him from falling to the hot burning sand.  His senses, though, were knocked a little off and a few moments were needed in order to regain.
	Few precious moments he needed to get going.  He saw not one, not two, not three, not even four but FIVE Big Purple Fuck(ers) charging after him.  August fired off as many rounds as he could before emptying the Colt, there was no time to reload, once more he bolted and ran.
	He would do better if not in the sandy wash, maybe.  But the sand was deep and constantly thwarted his efforts to gain any suitable momentum.  The Purple Fucks were gaining, yapping and hollering…
	August whirled about and with his other Colt popped off a few rounds to keep the closest Fucks at bay.  But many were above on the desert floor and not down in the gully.  This was bad, this was very bad.
	There came some boulders, big boulders where August had to hold in his breath and squeeze his way thru.  On the other side he paid little attention to the “sudden change in scenery.”  he just ran, as fast and as hard as he could.  The sand wasn’t so bad here, he didn’t know why--he didn’t care.  A constant ringing was in his ears, his vision blurry, his good gun hand damaged, an arrow in his leg and one in his butt, dislocated shoulder…
	The dry wash became something like a canal, the sides got steep and soon he was reminded of being like in a narrow-narrow canyon.  This couldn’t be good.  It was blazing hot, sweltering, the “canyon” meandered one way and then turned another, but was always mostly level.
	Exhaustion finally forced him to take a breather.  So he did.  Up against the rocky side of the “canal” he rested a moment, taking a chance to look back from where he had come--taking note that there didn’t seem to be anybody there.
	He gulped for air, felt the stings of his pain and utter exhaustion, peered through his sweat and blood and saw absolutely no one chasing him.  Hmmmmm
	After a few minutes he plunged onward.  This hadn’t turned out good.  But at least he wasn’t being chased down anymore.  Coming around a long sweeping corner of the canal-dry wash he stumbled out into a crossways.  Here there was a little solace from the blazing sun, a little shade.  And he heard what sounded like--like--like water!
	He smelled it, too!
	He began running, more stumbling and more aggravating the many numerous pains afflicting his frapped body.  He finally-FINALLY stumbled out into a small open area where there was a river of water gushing out of a cliff wall.  All around him there were walls stretching up some two-three hundred feet.  Sheer sides of rust colored geology.  The sun was no longer a constant and the coolness of the river made everything tranquil.
	Well, about that tranquil thing…
	After removing the arrows from his person--which very nearly killed him in the process, soaking in the cool refreshing waters of the river that was no more than knee deep, he thought--he THOUGHT he heard sounds.  Other than the gushing water tumbling out of the rock face there was the subtle sounds of something he couldn’t quite make out.
	He tried to let it go and lay out on the sandy beach and watch as darkness closed in above.  Just as he was closing his eyes he heard a splash.  He sat bolt upright, the darkness had almost settled, he looked down stream and saw a form.  He peered and strained, strained and peered until he saw looming in the quickening darkness what looked like--a horse.
	Oh, is that all.
	A horse.  A horse was good.  Wasn’t it?
	Feeling a little relieved he scooted up and approached, keeping to the shore.  The horse whinnied and plopped about listless as it stood in the knee deep water.  August moved closer and saw that the horse had no saddle or reins.  It was a wild horsey.  That was good, too.
	As he drew closer and before the darkness totally enveloped the scene, August saw what looked like marking on the horse.  The horse came forward a bit, August leaned out and saw bright and dull paint marks.
	Purple marks.
	He shuddered.  A nervous shiver seethed thru him, panic set in.  His feet, though, were commanded to RUN YOU FOOL, RUN! But seemed to be cemented to the sandy shore.
	At length, though, he did begin to run, run hard and fast.

	There was a little light left in the sky, the canyon he had been running in opened up just a bit more, the river surged into a sheer rock face and was gone.  August fell and tumbled down a small hill, emptying him out into a wide clearing.  Something in the deep recesses of his mind clicked.  It didn’t surface to his frapped mind, but there was something there.
	He lay still for a moment, listening.  The ringing in his ears was driving him crazy, along with flashes of images he did not wish to see anymore.  He felt sweat and blood trickling down his face, into his mouth.  Darkness was settling and there was naught to do but lay and wait.
	He assumed that he either passed out or actually drifted off to sleep.  Several times, though, through the long dark period he awoke startled.  He heard faint sounds of splashing, whoops and hollers, tom-toms, tambourines.  He didn’t move an inch, he couldn’t; every fiber of his being was on fire.
	When he awoke with a startle again it was daylight, just like that.  It was cool and light and still the clearing he was in was familiar to him.  He didn’t know why, it wouldn’t come to him.  
	With all the strength he could muster he sat up.  Casually he looked about his surroundings, he squinted his eyes and got another shiver--he had been here once before.  He gulped and got a very bad feeling.
	His “feeling” propelled him to start scrambling.  He heard the tom-toms again, the splashing of many horses in the unseen waters, the many whoops and yells of the butt fucking Indians.  Extreme fright sent him nearly on all fours, his gun hand crippled and extremely useless caused him great pains but he pushed himself along just the same.
	At length he came to a narrowing of the canyon, sheer black walls were here, and just beyond was a smaller clearing with one small opening.  Another flash came to August’s frapped mind--that was familiar, too.  He held his ground a moment, then began running as much as he could.  He saw out of the corners of his eyes a greenish fog beginning to swirl.  Oh-no…
	He ran faster, stumbling and glancing off the sheer glass-like walls of the mysterious canyon, he would not be denied.  He clawed his way furiously along the hard packed sand until in the clearing itself, looking through the narrow passage he saw clear daylight beyond, and in a foggy haze there were two peoples coming along.  One was a young man, one was old.
	As they drew closer and nearer, August recognized them, himself and Charlie Dugout!  Back when August made his first trip into the strange new world way back when.
	August didn’t know what to do.  Should he go on, meet them?  Or was this a figment of his imagination.  Or some such junk…?
	The whoops and hollers convinced him, he was in no mood or shape to deal being victimized relentlessly by the Indians of the Purple Schlong.
	But the greenish fog swirled faster than he could move.  Just as Charlie and his other self August reached the clear, too, the fog swirled about them and caused them (and the opening) to disappear.  August threw himself into a rage and tried to go on.
	Suddenly a mighty hand reached out thru the fog (from behind him) grabbed his bad shoulder and wrenched him backwards into the choking mist.