Brahmin Herding is Dangerous Work

Laura sat atop her horse gazing out across a sea of scrub brush and dull green grass. A herd of brahmin grazed quietly down the small hill to her right. The fence-line she was following continued to her left and she spurred her horse onward as she patrolled. Since she had turned eighteen last year she had been helping patrol her father’s brahmin ranch for rustlers. It was hard work to make sure their thousand acres, but Laura had always fancied herself a cowgirl. Since she was a girl the old-world country western songs on the radio had enchanted her. Even now, twangy notes and a pleasant baritone voice rang from a small radio clipped to her saddle.

I beat his draw and I shot him

Shot him six times just as fast as the bullets could fly

My gun is empty or more I would shoot him

Now there are others just like him that want me to die

Their bullets are coming my way, how they hurt when they hit me

The pain makes me fall to the ground.

She smiled to herself as she wiped the sweat from her brow before tilting her wide-brimmed straw cowboy hat down to shield her green eyes from the sun. Their ranch hadn’t seen any trouble in some time, but rustlers had recently been hitting some of the ranches nearby, taking entire herds to New Reno, never to be seen again. The loss of a brahmin herd could mean unrecoverable bankruptcy for a ranch, making Laura’s job very important.

She shifted in her saddle, adjusting where her 12 gauge over-and-under shotgun sat in her lap, as she continued scanning the landscape. It had been a couple hours since she started her patrol, and she neared the part of the property furthest from her home. A new song came over the radio, and Laura sang along in a sweet, quiet voice. She trailed off, however, as she crested the ridge. There were two men crouched with their backs to her, about 300 yards from her down the hill. She gripped her shotgun as she studied the men. They were crouched down, focused on something between them that she couldn’t make out. They didn’t have horses though, and brahmin rustlers always had horses. Maybe they were lost and needed help finding their way to a town, she thought as she brought her horse to a trot down the hill. After a short ride, she came up to them. The men’s backs were still turned as she approached. One of them, the smaller man on the left, turned his head to face her.

“Hiya!” She greeted them cheerily, raising a hand off of the stock of her shotgun to wave. “You fellas lost or” She trailed off as she noticed the large bag of bottle caps on the ground between them. It was an enormous pile of money; enough to buy an entire herd of brahmin. It was far too much money for someone around here to have under lawful circumstances. The larger man on the right rose to his feet and turned toward her, a dangerous glare falling on Laura. To her horror, he suddenly pointed a large pistol at her. “No wait!” She shouted, eyes wide in terror. She didn’t even think to go for her shotgun or try to draw the revolver at her hip. She just raised her arms out in front of her, as if to stop a bullet. She didn’t even have time to further beg for her life before the muzzle of the man’s gun flashed.

The old cowboy songs had lied to Laura. She didn’t feel a little bullet tear a hole through her chest; she felt like someone had whacked her in the chest with a baseball bat. It didn’t even hurt very much when she found herself falling to the hard, dusty ground. She hit the ground hard on her front, instantly knocking the wind out of her. Her hat flew from her auburn head, and she heard her horse gallop away fearfully, leaving her alone with the men. With a wheeze, she opened her eyes. She could feel blood begin to pool beneath her, soaking her simple flannel shirt. Her shotgun lay just a few feet from her, and, remembering the men were still nearby, she tried to pull herself toward it. Every inch she moved was agony as the rough ground scraped past her bleeding torso. She could feel the smooth wood of the stock on her fingertips when it was pulled from her grasp.

“No no no. You don’t need that anymore.” A gruff, deep voice came from above. She felt a boot roughly roll her onto her back, and found herself staring up at the two men. They wore dark clothes, and had bandanas hanging around their necks. She tried to grab her own revolver. She never was much of a quickdraw, but she could barely force her hand onto the grip of her pistol. “Don’t be stupid, girl.” The man who had shot her spat, grabbing her pistol from her hand as well. The men now stared down at her as tears ran down her cheeks. They seemed to focus on her chest, and Laura now noticed that at some point, her beat-up flannel shirt had unbuttoned itself, exposing her perky, lightly freckled breasts to the sun and her assailants.

“She doesn’t look like law” The smaller man said in a higher voice, sounding unsure. The other man grunted in response.

“What’re ya doin’ out here, girl?” He questioned her, squatting down beside her.

“Protecting Brahmin” Laura answered weakly. She couldn’t think of any reason to lie.

“Oh, Jesus.” The smaller man turned and threw his hand to his forehead. “She’s not the goddamned law, you shot some fucking farm girl!” The larger man sighed, and walked out of Laura’s line of sight. The two men argued for a short while, leaving Laura coughing and sputtering as her naked, bloodstained chest weakly rose and fell. The smaller man seemed to feel sorry for her and wanted to try to help, but the larger man thought that she would call the law on them anyway. She wanted to cry out and beg for help. To tell them she wouldn’t tell a soul, but she couldn’t seem to get the words out of her mouth. Suddenly, a shot rang out and a body fell to the ground with a thump. The larger man strode back into Laura’s view. It seemed to be just them now.

“More caps for me anyway” He muttered. Laura coughed roughly, and dark crimson blood trickled from the corner of her lip. The man stopped and looked down at her once more. This time, however, his gaze was predatory and lustful.

“You’re still alive?” He sounded surprised as he knelt down beside her. Rough hands grasped at her belt, pulling it apart before undoing her jeans. He yanked Laura’s jeans and plain blue panties down to her knees in one swift motion. She couldn’t do anything meaningful to struggle as she lay bare-assed in the dirt. It was all she could do to push her unwilling hands toward the man, but they were easily batted away. He pulled his own trousers open and pulled his erect cock from within. Her legs felt heavy to her, but the man easily hoisted her legs up to her chest, leaving her pussy sticking out between her soft thighs. Spitting into his hand, the man pressed his fingers against her slit. She had never been touched like this before, and the tingles that ran up her spine were unfamiliar and confusing. Finally, he pressed the tip of his cock against her now-slickened opening and began pressing himself roughly into her. She didn’t have the energy to scream, though she desperately wanted to. Her lack of experience meant that she couldn’t be certain what was and was not “big,” but the man’s cock certainly felt large to her as he suddenly hilted himself inside her. He fucked her roughly, and she felt her perky breasts bounce up and down under the assault. It felt like everything inside her was breaking as the man panted and groaned above her. Her back actually slid back and forth in the blood-soaked mud as she continued bleeding out while being fucked. In her mind she begged for it to end; for the man to finally finish and for her to finally expire. Hands fell to her chest, pinching and pulling at her small pink nipples as the man groaned more and more. Finally, she felt the man throb within her, and he pulled himself from her suddenly. The emptiness made her gasp and wheeze as the man let her legs fall back to the ground. He grabbed her soft red hair, and pulled her face up to his cock, stroking it with his other hand. She couldn’t figure out what was going on until thick ropes of cum shot from the tip, splattering across her freckled face. String after string of hot cum fell to her face, pooling around her right eye and dripping down her nose onto her plump lips. The man knelt panting for a moment before, surprisingly gently, laying her stained head back in the dirt. He put himself back into this pants and looked at her once again. Cum and tears stung her eyes, and blood still ran from her mouth with every cough. Her breathing was labored, and every breath she drew was agonizing. The man pulled a pistol from his belt, her pistol, and gently placed the muzzle on her chest, over where she knew her hear was. Wordlessly, he pulled the trigger, and a bullet tore through her ruined chest. There was no more pain. Her feet kicked, causing slight ripples to run through her breasts, and her mouth opened slightly in shock. Laura only convulsed for only a moment, though, before she quickly faded away.