I saw the town on the horizon as I rode west. I saw the dust storm coming from the north. I figured I could make it to the town, so I didn’t bother to make camp. My horse got nervous as the dust enveloped us, but I kept going forward. I couldn’t see five feet in front of me, but I knew I was going the right way. I had been through a lot of dust storms as I wandered through the west. I’m not the fastest gunslinger. Not even the fifth fastest. I’m probably around seventy or eighty. That still leaves many people slower than me, though. I’m probably still the fastest woman gunslinger, as there aren’t very many.

The dust storm was still blazing as I rode into Main street. I left my horse in the alley for a little protection from the storm. As I walked through the swinging doors of the saloon I noticed there were only four people there. Two were playing cards, another sat alone in the corner and then there was the bartender who casually cleaned the glasses that looked as though they hadn’t been used for years. I slowly walked up to the bar. My sunglasses, which helped keep the dust out of my eyes as well as sun, kept my blue eyes hidden.

“How much for a room?” I asked the bartender.

“Two dollars a night,” he replied.

I reached in my pocket and fished out the two coins then laid them on the counter. He gladly took the money and showed me to my room.

The small room had a bed, a dresser and a small tub that would barely fit a person in it for washing. There was also a full length mirror, which was unusual. This was one of the better places I’d been.

“You’ll have to wait ‘till the storm’s over to get water from out back,” said the owner, “but the door locks so you’ll have plenty of privacy.”

When the storm let up later that night I got some water from the well. It was cool and refreshing. I filled the tub and proceeded to take off my clothes, making sure the door was locked first. I unbuckled my gun belt and set it on the bed. My long coat came next, I put it on the dresser. My boots I put next to the bed. I took off my belt and slid my pants down to my ankles. My dark bush hid my pussy. I kicked the pants over next to the bed. I unbuttoned my shirt and gradually my breasts fell out. They’re not too big, but not really small. I’d seen women with some pretty big breasts and I’m glad mine were well proportioned to my body. I threw my shirt on my boots and stepped into the bath tub. The cool water felt good on my naked skin.

I just sat there letting it soak in and relaxed for a while. Then I scrubbed what dirt I could off my body. My bush seemed thick to me, so I reached over and opened the dresser. As I thought, there was a straight razor for men to shave with. I took it out and gently trimmed my pubic hair till there was only a slight sliver above my slit.

I took off my hat and tossed it on the bed and got up, water dripping off me. I stood in front of the mirror and towelled myself off. When I was done I stood there in front of the mirror and studied my nude form.

I’d never thought about it before, but I was quite attractive. I kept myself fit, I wasn’t fat. My hair was trimmed to my shoulders. My dark skin was clear of blemishes or scars. My dark hair came from my mother, who was Navajo, as did my dark skin. When I was younger, kids made fun of me because I was an Indian. I guess I fought back and it made me tough, that’s why I’m a gunslinger. I don’t let anybody mess with me anymore.

I ran my hands over my well shaped breasts. It felt good. My tiny nipples stood straight up. My hands moved down to my hips, ran over my butt and down my legs and back up my thighs. Before they even reached my mound a shiver ran through me. I smiled, something I rarely do, the feeling was exquisite.

I sat down on the bed and spread my legs. Both my hands caressed my breasts for a while then one moved down to my thighs. I tickled my mound a little, then put a finger part way into my slit, touching that little button that filled me with pleasure. I gasped as I found it. My mouth opened, but I wouldn’t let myself be heard by anyone who happened to be in the next room.

As my strokes became faster and faster I got up and straddled the corner of the bed. Humping it like crazy, I felt the surge coming up inside me. I laid down on the bed on my back and took the pillow and put it between my legs. I humped the pillow like a madwoman, I came with a sudden gush of juices out of my pussy. I felt the pillow get all wet, but I kept humping it. Soon I came again, squirting all over the pillow. Exhausted, I brought the pillow up to my face. I loved the smell of pussy juices. With the pillow next to me, I fell into unconsciousness.

The next morning I awoke in the nude clutching my pillow. I put my clothes back on and went downstairs. The bartender was behind the counter and the two men were still playing cards. Or maybe they were playing again. The third man was nowhere to be seen but, there were two other guys at the bar that didn’t react to me at all.

I strolled over to the bar and sat down. The bartender came over to me and greeted me. “Good morning,” he said, “what can I do for you?”

“Anybody around here hiring for a job?” I asked him.

“Hmm, I’m not sure, hey George, you know of anybody?”

One of the men at the bar looked at him. “Bill Riley was looking for guys to help him build his barn, but that was last week, they prob’ly done built that barn by now.”

“Hmm,” thought the bartender.

The white-haired man sitting next to George leaned forward and looked down the bar. “Sheriff Williams was complaining that he didn’t have no help since Luke Wilson got shot, maybe he got a job for ye.”

I thought about it a bit, then asked, “Where can I get some food?”

“Across the street there’s an Inn. Wilson’s widow runs the place. You can eat there,” said the bartender, helpfully.

“Thanks,” I said, then I left.

Wilson’s widow served me some stew that tasted like she took forty different kinds of vegetables and every part of a cow and just slow cooked it for a week. It was good, though. After I ate I went outside. It was a bright sunny day. I looked around the town. There was a brothel on the north side of town, a general store next to the saloon in the middle of town, and the sheriff’s office was south of here. There was an empty fur trader’s shop next to Wilson’s Inn.

I headed south towards the sheriff’s office. When I got there I noticed there were three cells, one of which had a prisoner in it. He was a well-dressed swindler with three days of growth to his beard.

The sheriff was sitting at his desk sleeping, with his hat over his face. His badge shined bright.