Con Jackson stood in the doorway of his dry goods store and stared at the forlorn figure walking painfully towards him. He cocked his head to one side and frowned, his heavy brows almost totally concealing the grey glint of his eyes. Surely it was Jennifer Dawson? He inched his head forward until his neck took on the appearance of a plucked chicken poking out the top of his frayed shirt collar. The girl looked to be nearly all in, her dress was torn so badly at the front so that one shapely breast almost spilled out of the dust-spoiled material. Her shoeless feet were scratched and bleeding from her long walk out of the desert. She carried a long-barrelled Dragoon pistol in one hand and had a large Bowie knife shoved into a broad leather belt buckled a little incongruously around her tiny waist.

"Jennifer?" he said quizzically as she limped painfully towards the boardwalk steps. "Jennifer Dawson?"

The young girl came to a shuddering halt, swaying from side to side almost as if to fall down. "Indians," she managed to jerk out from between clenched teeth. "Killed Ma and Pa! Near killed me too."

Jackson shook his head in sympathy and reached out to take her arm. "I'm real sorry, girl, " he said softly. "Better come inside. You look beat!"

She nodded vaguely and managed to shuffle painfully into the semi-darkness of the store. Jackson pulled out a chair from behind the counter and pushed her gently onto it. A man of few words, he bustled to the back room and returned with a shot glass filled with whisky. "Drink it," he commanded. "Set your mind right." He pulled an Indian blanket off a display stand and threw it across her shoulders. "Here, cover yourself with this! I'll go for the sheriff. You stay put!"

Jennifer needed no second bidding and, after pulling the blanket around her shoulders, tilted the glass to her mouth as Jackson hurried out the door. The whisky caught in her throat and she coughed but it sent warmth through her body that made up a little for the fifteen-mile hike into town. Her fingers cuddled the glass and she stared across the cluttered room at the dusty mirror standing precariously on a wooden crate. It was little wonder Jackson had not recognised her right off. Her face was blackened with ash and her long fair hair hung like bedraggled tail feathers down across her face. The dress was almost totally written off as a garment, with two long tears across the front and one sleeve hanging by a thread. It was good only for the garbage can. Her hand strayed lovingly to the carved handle of Jed's Bowie knife. She could remember him labouring every evening for six months to get the lifelike appearance to the eagle's head that crowned it. Her brow furrowed for a moment and the fingers tightened their grip on the glass. Now she had nothing - perhaps a few dollars in Jed's bank account - but nothing worth speaking of. She took another hard swig at the glass and this time she didn't cough as the liquor hit the pit of her stomach.

Jackson hustled his way back into the store with Sheriff Max following hard on his heels. They walked directly over to her and the sheriff sighed as he surveyed her appearance. "Hard times, Jennifer! I'm sorry about your folks!" He winced and looked away embarrassed. "Did they...?"

"Pa said they wuz Lakota Sioux!"

"He'd know," Jackson interjected and Sheriff Max stared at him.

"Easy, Con. The girl's had a bad time! Leave this to me."

Jackson nodded. "Sorry, Sheriff, I just thought..."

"They raped Ma and then scalped both of them!" Jennifer's voice was a hard monotone and her eyes never left the long mirror as both men expressed their sympathy by tutting softly. "I buried them best I could!"

The sheriff leaned forward. "How many? Did you see how many?"

"Only when they were coming in - just before Pa shoved me into the hole and covered it up." She paused. "About fifty, I guess."

Jackson whistled. "Fifty of the heathen bastards. Jeez!" he said with a shake of his head. "Chances are they'll hit Old Zeke Turnbull's place unless someone gets out there and warns him."

The sheriff shook his head slowly. "If they're going to hit Zeke's they'll have done it by now," he said and turned his attention back to Jennifer. "Get the girl a shirt and some work pants, Con. Charge them to me and fill a bath!" He reached out and touched Jennifer's arm. "You okay, little lady? They never got to you, did they?"

Jennifer shook her head and shrugged. "No. They never got to me. Pa hid me real good." She reached inside her tattered bodice and produced the Dragoon pistol, the action spilling her other breast out into the light. "Even gave me this, just in case!"

The sheriff swallowed and tried not to look at the shapely girl flesh exposed by the torn dress. Grimly, he took the pistol from her and laid it on the counter. "Jed was a good man. Gonna miss him. Now you get yourself cleaned up and over to the hotel. I'll fix up a room and we'll take a fresh look at this in the morning. Okay?"

She nodded and looked up. "Thanks," she said with a wan smile and the sheriff chucked her gently on the cheek

"No worries, girl," he said with a grin. "Whole thing'll look different tomorrow. You just get yourself a night's sleep." He turned to Jackson. "Take good care of her, Con. Some decent clothes and a bath first; then take her over to the hotel. I'll dig up a few men and take a trip out to Jed's place see what we can do."

Jackson nodded and touched Jennifer's shoulder. "You heard the man, Jennifer. Let's take care of you," he said and pointed toward the rear of the store. "Got me a nice tin bath out there and I can boil up a lake full of hot water and you can sit and wallow for a while."

Jennifer managed wan smile as she stood up and followed the storekeeper.

"Look after her, Con," the sheriff repeated as he headed out the door. "Or you'll have me to deal with!"

Jackson raised a hand but did not look in the sheriff's direction. "No problem," he said as he disappeared into the rear room with Jennifer close at his heels.

Within half an hour the bath was laid out and part filled with hot water. Jackson grinned. "Take your time, Jennifer," he said gently. "Make the best of it. Hot baths don't come round often."

She nodded without expression and unhitched the belt at her waist. "I didn't even see 'em except when they wuz coming in," she said listlessly. "Wouldn't recognise a single one of them."

Jackson nodded sagely. "They all look the same to me! Heathen red bastards!"

Almost as if in a trance, she reached down and caught the hem of her dress between her fingers and Jackson swallowed. "Perhaps I ought...?"

"One name I heard was Telotsah," she said as she pulled the dress over her head and dropped it untidily to the floor.

Jackson swallowed uncomfortably as the young full breasts were revealed and he tried unsuccessfully to avert his eyes.

"I think he was a war chief," she continued, blissfully unaware of his discomfort as she slipped the long drawers over her knees and stepped out of them. "They called him a war chief anyway!"

Jackson cursed his inability to move as his eyes fixed on the tidy triangle of fair hair at her groin while she raised one leg and placed her foot tentatively into the bath. He couldn't remember when he had last seen a body as firm and youthful as the one now on display. Tightly compacted vaginal lips, obviously unsullied by male curiosity and large, firm, pink tipped breasts that jutted invitingly outward. He felt the sudden arch of his penis against the inside of his denim work pants and he nibbled fretfully at his lower lip.

"You settle in right there and I'll go find you some clothes," he said quickly as she lowered herself into the bath and smiled in his direction. He bent forward slightly and hurried back into the main store as Jennifer sighed and closed her eyes, allowing the comforting feel of the hot water to seep through to her bones.

Jackson dropped the heavy curtain back into place across the intervening doorway and bustled quickly to the main entrance. He slipped the bolt on the door, twisted the sign to read 'closed' and stepped carefully back to a vantage point behind the curtain. With a quick prayer for forgiveness he unbuttoned the front of his pants and eased out the thick meat of his half erect penis. He peered through the join of the curtains and began to masturbate as he watched the reclining figure of the naked girl. The upper part of her body was the only thing he could see but it was enough to draw a sudden spurt of semen from the pulsing organ within seconds. He gasped quietly as the thick jism jetted against the curtains and trickled in a hot stream over his hand and then cursed himself for a second time as he grabbed a piece of sacking. Quickly he wiped away the rapidly cooling semen and pushed his penis back into his pants, completely ignoring the seepage against his upper thigh. He threw the sacking in a corner and rummaged through the pile of work clothes stacked untidily against the wall. He selected a pair of denim pants and a shirt he thought might fit, then walked back to the curtain and stopped.

"Gotcha clothes here, Jennifer. I'll leave them by the curtain," he said gruffly.

There was a gentle splash of water as if she had moved suddenly. "You can bring them in, Mr Jackson. It's all right!"

"Tain't right I should come in there while you're naked, Jennifer. I'll leave them here. You just reach under the curtain when you're finished and I'll find you out some socks and boots and a warm travelling coat."

There was silence for a moment and then she replied. "Whatever you say, Mr. Jackson. I won't be long. I'm near finished already."

Jackson thanked the Lord he had satisfied his lust with that quick, single-handed exercise. The shame of self-abuse while sneaking a peek through the curtains was as nothing compared to what he might have done had he gone back into the room with that pounding erection and nothing to curtail his lustful thoughts. He listened to her splashing gently and congratulated himself on his decision as he picked through the thick woollen socks, then selected a suitable pair of boots. He dropped them onto the shirt and pants before settling down in a chair and taking a cigar from his vest pocket. He puffed it into life and threw the spent match on the floor as a naked arm reached under the curtain and pulled the pile of clothes out of sight.

He grinned and blew a perfect smoke ring. "All done now?" he called.

"All done, Mr. Jackson!"

He pushed the chair onto its back legs and stared at the ceiling. "How d'they fit?"

"Good enough - you're a good guesser!"

"Experience, Jennifer. Experience. I've been guessing sizes for thirty years, never been too far out."

The curtains pushed aside and she stepped into the main store as Jackson tilted the chair forward and allowed his feet to touch the floor. He whistled softly and she smiled wistfully back at him.

"I never saw pants looking so good on anyone," he said with a grin. "Reckon you should parade up and down outside so everyone can see." He stood up and pushed the cigar between his teeth. "I'd sell out in no time!" He pointed down. "Boots okay?"

Jennifer wiggled her toes and tapped both feet alternately on the wooden boards. "Perfect," she said, looking under her eyelids at him. "Just about two sizes too big. Any smaller and I wouldn't get them on and off."

"I can change them if you want?"

"Nope! Like I said, they're perfect, Mr. Jackson."

He walked over to the display stand and lifted down a thick blanket jacket lined with sheep's skin. "This one should keep you warm when the wind blows," he said as he handed it to her and watched as she slipped her arms into the sleeves.

"It's very kind..."

"No reason for thanks. Sheriff's paying, remember?" He picked up a long mackinaw and threw it across his shoulders. "Now you button up and we'll head for the hotel."

Jennifer raised her hand and stared at him. "One thing, Mr. Jackson?" she said tentatively and pointed at the Dragoon pistol. "Will you do a deal on the pistol?"

"Deal? What sort of deal? What do you want?" he said as he hefted the long barrelled gun in his palm and nodded approval. "It's a nice weapon."

"I want a .45, a belt and holster."

He stared at her for a moment and then chuckled. "What d'you want with a .45? Pretty little thing like you would never lift it. Far too heavy!"

"I want a .45!" she repeated. "And a belt and holster."

He chuckled once more. "The kick would be enough to knock you off your feet, Jennifer. Let me find you out a derringer or something small."

She stared at him and her eyes were suddenly cold. "I want to kill me some Indians," she said softly and touched the handle of the Bowie knife that protruded from her belt. "I need a .45!"

"That's silly talk, girl. They'd have your hair before you got within shooting distance!"

"If they get close enough to lift my hair they'll be close enough to shoot," she said without expression. "I don't have a choice. I have to do it!"

Jackson shrugged helplessly. "You'll need more than a .45," he said, cocking his head to one side. "You ever fired a Winchester?"

"Pa taught me. I'm pretty good. I can pick off a squirrel at a hundred yards."

"Indians are different to squirrels," Jackson said with a grimace. "They shoot back." He raised his hands and loosed an exasperated sigh. "Horse! Saddle! Bedroll! Sheriff's never going to agree to that! It comes to money!"

Jennifer shrugged and stared at him expressionlessly. Her eyes were cold, boring into him knowingly. "Did you like me naked?" she said suddenly. "Better than the whores over at the Trail's End?"

Jackson swallowed and felt a hot flush reaching up from the collar of the mackinaw. "Jeez, Jennifer. Don't talk that way! Tain't right! I wuz a good friend of yer paw."

She drew a finger across the curtains and held it up in front of her, rubbing the ball of her thumb over the reflecting gleam of sticky semen. "I can pay you in kind," she said and lowered her eyelids to spare his blushes. "No one need ever know, especially the Sheriff."

Jackson swallowed and cursed the sudden twitch at his groin. Goddamn it! He had only dealt with it fifteen minutes ago and here it was begging more attention! She knew, for God's sake! How the hell did she know? He wanted to crawl away and die with the shame of it. If anyone ever found out... It didn't bear thinking about! Dealing guns and saddles against her firm body was like dealing with the devil. He'd surely burn in hell if he succumbed to such temptation. He looked at her and a lump caught in his throat. "Twelve!" he said quickly and immediately wished he had bitten off his tongue.

"Twelve?" she replied and raised her eyes. "You'll have to promise to go easy on the first two. I never did it before." She shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm broke in with riding horses 'n stuff, but I never had a man inside me." She paused. "I only ever sucked on Rafe Cornwall's cock twice, but both times he shot off in my mouth before we could get down to the real stuff so I never did it properly yet." She wiped the finger down the side of her denims and stared hard in his direction. "If that's all right with you, we've got a deal!"

He shook his head slowly. "What the hell am I saying here? You just lost your folks and we're talking deals on your body." He shuddered. "Tain't right, Jennifer. Just ain't right!"

"Got to kill me some Indians, Mr. Jackson," Jennifer said stonily. "That makes it right. You want to poke me? After what's happened, I reckon that's all right too. Whatever it takes to find Telotsah and his murdering bunch. Whatever it takes to cut his guts open and eat his liver. Whatever it takes I'll do it." She pushed the Dragoon pistol back as he held it out toward her. "Now, do we have a deal or are you going to stick with those oversized cunts over to the Trail's End?"

He stared at her and wondered what exactly he was getting himself into? What had originally been an innocent unassuming sixteen-year-old beauty was now some kind of unfeeling monster that seemed to be taking over his very soul. He couldn't help himself, a single glance in her direction was enough to commit him to any kind of warped activity she may have in mind. He coughed self-consciously and nodded. "Deal!" he said. "I think you're crazy but what the hell!" He raised a finger and waved it gently from side to side. "Between you and me!"

She nodded. "You think I want to advertise the fact that a fifty year old storekeeper is fucking me? I won't say anything if you don't." She pointed at the glass covered counter containing a vast array of pistols and knives. "Show me what I'm buying," she said. "And then I'll put up the first payment!"

She settled on a Colt .45 with a shaved front sight and a hair trigger. The smooth worn butt implied constant use and Jackson maintained that it had belonged to Black Jack Ketchum. She doubted that, but the feel of the walnut grip fitting comfortably in her palm gave her a sense of security and the long barrel slid easily in and out of the black, oiled holster. It was necessary to pierce another hole in the belt to tighten the rig about her slim waist but eventually she nodded her satisfaction. "It feels good!" she said simply as she hitched the buckle together and bounced the heavy weapon off her thigh. "This is the one!"

Jackson stared at her and sighed. "You're crazy," he said for the fourth time as he watched her drawing the .45 from the holster and hefting it against her palm. "You'll be dead the first time you try to pull the trigger. It's too heavy." He shook his head slowly. "Take a derringer. Wear it up your sleeve as a holdout. At least you'll have surprise on your side!"

"I like this one." Jennifer pushed the barrel back into the holster and smiled across at him. "I don't intend on becoming a 'fast draw', I'm not totally crazy, I'm going out to kill Indians, remember?"

"When you wear a gun like that you're making a statement - you're telling everybody that you're a gunfighter and you're not! You're a farm girl and that's all. You're making trouble for yourself and no mistake."

"It's my trouble and I'll deal with it my way. You stick to running your store, Mr. Jackson. I don't need your advice or your concern." She unbuckled the belt and laid it on the counter. "Just your merchandise and we've already agreed how I should pay for it." She grinned broadly and jerked her head toward the rear of the store. "Now let's get to settling up for the pistol!"