Madge Cargon sat looking down at her dead husband. The grief in her heart barely showed in her bloodshot eyes. As if in a trance she looked up at the black-clad gambler, who thrust the gun back into his holster and turned away with a satisfied smile. Madge had at first thought him handsome and dashing, in his flat black hat with the silver buckle, black coat, black pants and tall black military boots. He made a dashing figure at first glance. But the evil in his face showed when he pulled the trigger and killed her husband. Latent, pleased, evil which was quickly covered up when he observed her watching him. He shrugged and turned away, as if in apology. But Madge knew better.
She looked down at Elmer again and saw that the gun was still in the holster. She had to admit, he’d had his chance. But Elmer was no gunfighter and the gambler obviously was. Their rush for gold had ended just like that, and they hadn’t even reached Stampede Pass yet.
“Ma’am, what do you want me to do?” an on the wagon asked. It was her wagon, and he was her driver.
“Get your stuff, all the supplies you need and go your own way, Archie. I would pay you if I had the money. Take your pay out of goods.”
“Are you sure, ma’am? You could still make it to the gold fields.”
“The gold fields were his dream, not mine. I will settle here, next to the trail North. Unhitch the team, Archie.”
“Elmer, a man who was always trying to get rich quickly, had stopped to play in a friendly game started by the gambler on a plank laid across two rocks. There were three players all together, Elmer, the gambler, and another man who grabbed his cash off the plank and ran, after Elmer was shot. The plank was still there. It was about six feet long, a foot wide and rough, possibly hand-hewn. She now owned two wagons, one full of drygoods and one filled with whiskey, and a few smaller kegs of shine. Elmer had showed her how to make the powerful moonshine into whiskey, using a lot of water, tobacco for coloring, and a few quarts of the powerful alcohol. No sense in letting it go to waste.
Elmer had intended on selling off the goods before they started up the pass. He said the could make more money than at the goldfields. Besides, he could sell the horses and wagons to somebody to haul supplies in off the mud flats. She had no doubt that the talk of goldfields was just that, talk. Archie had never intended to go farther than this. He would make a big bundle here, sell off the team and return to Seattle. Not any more. Archie would stay, all right, and so would Madge.
“Can you tend bar?”
“You mean fancy mixed drinks like back East, or filling glasses and taking money.”
“Sure, I can do that.”
“Let’s put the wagons together and set up camp. Use that plank for a bar. Elmer earned it.”
Madge leaned down and removed the change from Elmer’s pockets. She would need it to make change at the bar. She then unbuckled his gunbelt and belted it around her own waist. If felt funny until she removed a few petticoats. Then it fit just fine. She drew the gun and aimed it carefully, before putting it back into the holster. She tried to remember what Elmer had taught her about the gun. It was little, because he had known little. Mostly how to load and aim it like pointing a finger. The weight of the large pistol loaded down her arm as she drew again, more quickly. She slid it back into the holster and settled the gun on her hip. Archie was sitting up the bar on the plank, laid on the tailgates of the two wagons. He had customer long before he was ready. He had paid two men to bury Elmer. Madge and Elmer had been newlyweds. It was a marriage of convenience. Elmer wanted her to go to the gold fields with him to keep him warm during the winter. She was willing, but her father insisted that they get married first. They did, just one month before. There was no love lost, because there was no love. But she did regret his death. He had been a good man.
“We have no glasses,” Archie whispered.
“They all have tin coffee cups. Make them provide their own. Dip them to the top and collect a quarter.”
“A quarter?” he gasped in surprise.
“A quarter,” she nodded. She knew it was high, but they would pay it. After all, it had been a month since most of these men had drunk a glass of whiskey. They would probably pay more, if she asked. She climbed into the back of the drygoods wagon and surveyed what she had. The bacon and flour would go fast. Some things like the dried apples and peaches would bring a phenomenal price. Some she and Archie would need, until they returned to Seattle.
The days passed and her store in the wilderness became famous. Men knew about her bar up and down the trail. The Canadian authorities left her alone. They knew that some men had snuck into the country without bringing their required supplies. If the men could purchase them at Madge’s store, they wouldn’t be a burden on somebody else. It worked well for them and helped keep the peace. After the first week Madge was rich. She didn’t care, really, she only wanted to get rid of her burden before returning to civilization.
Then one day something happened that changed her life forever. She was dragging the last of her drygoods to the back of her wagon, getting them ready for sale. Her ass protruded from the back of the wagon and somebody whistled.
“I’d pay a lot for a piece of that ass,” he whispered to a buddy. Madge erupted into anger. She grabbed her pistol and turned to face the man. As she did so, his words penetrated her mind. She could get a high price for something that did not need to be replaced. The whiskey was half gone, the drygoods getting low, but her pussy would last for a good long time. It would cost her nothing, except maybe her pride. Most men had spare money on them for the necessaries in the Klondike.
“How much?” she asked, letting the pistol slide back into the holster.
“Uh… well at least five dollars,” he said nervously.
“Make it ten and I’ll pretend I like it,” she smiled down at the men gathered around the wagons.
“Ten!” men yelled in the crowd. Several held up gold pieces and waved them desperately.
“Twenty!” another man yelled.
“One hundred if I can go first,” a man roared from the back. Madge pointed at him and motioned him forward. He trust his gold pieces at Madge. She reached over and handed them to Archie.
Giggling nervously he crawled into the wagon. Men stood around murmuring and shifting from foot to foot. The good claims were being taken, even as they waited. But a good piece of pussy was hard to pass up. It could be years before they got another chance. Madge was a good looking woman with a slender figure. They all knew she was no whore, at least no yet.
“Oh my,” the man said, pushing Madge back on a box of lanterns. She settled herself on the crate and reached down, pulling her pantaloons from beneath her dress. He watched in amazement, then began tearing off his pants. In a moment he was down to his long johns. He fished out his throbbing and began digging beneath her dress. He finally found her pussy, well hidden beneath several layers of cloth.
“This isn’t easy,” he complained. Madge thought for a moment then turned and laid on her stomach, with her ass presented to the man. He quickly threw the masses of cloth up on her back and bared her ass. He hissed in pleasure, spit in his hand, and rubbed it over the end of his cock. With slow, nervous movements, he thrust his cock into her pussy. It hurt at first, but she endured the pain in the name of money. It was good, easy money which cost her nothing. As he began thrusting up inside her pussy, she chanted to herself.
“One hundred dollars, one hundred dollars, one hundred…”
He grunted and jerked behind her within three minutes. She felt his filling her pussy, which had just began to tingle from his attack. In intense disappointment, she felt him pull out. She felt empty and cold, at the loss of the inside her. She rolled over and looked at the man, now looking down at his own cock.
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