*Please note: This story deals with the american western frontier, and western expansion. It shows some of the good and not so good aspects of this era. I don’t condone the attitudes of all of the characters in this story in regards to race, homosexuality, and our relationship with the natural world. I did a great deal of historical research, but I probably got some things wrong. Feel free to let me know in the comments.These are just the first five chapters, and I’ll post more soon.

*Also: These chapters do not contain any sex scenes, but are meant to introduce the characters, the setting, and the romance budding between them. This actually has a somewhat complicated plot by my standards, and there will be more erotic parts of the story in later chapters. I’ve gotten some hate for posting stories like these in the past because lots of people here would rather just jump right to the fucking without much character development. so if this isn’t your cup of tea, leave now. These are the kinds of stories I enjoy writing, and I hope it resonates with at least a few people. If you don’t like it, read something else. So without further ado:

Chapter 1)

The mayor was puffed up and pompous, and had it not been for the circumstances it might even have been funny. He cleared his throat importantly and read their names, as it was customary. This formality was hardly needed and their names were surely no secret. Still he made and impressive ceremony of unfolding his spectacles and holding the parchment in front of him.

“Leander and Eleanor Blythe.” His voice droned on like an engine but Eleanor could scarcely hear him.
Eleanor felt her husband’s hand in hers. She gripped it and numbly realized that the crowd was cheering. She could remember a time when she used to listen to their innermost secrets but she accepted that those days were long gone.

They were cheering.

She looked into the crowd and could see the faces of some of her regulars.

Cheering.

These were once her friends and she had known their sorrows. They had once entrusted to her, their most intimate dreams and sufferings. She listened. Now they cheered.

It didn’t matter anymore, really. She looked over to Leander; resolved and ready to die. She was ready too. They’d had a good run.

The last sound that Eleanor heard was the clatter of stools being kicked. In unison their necks snapped.

2)

The saloon was closed until further notice. There were three men inside. Two solemnly gazed at a third whose head rested on the counter. Sheriff Blake scrutinized him while Sheriff Arnold focused his efforts into looking clinical and stoic. Hard as the young man tried, Arnold was finding it difficult to keep his composure. The man on the counter lay quite still, and with summer in its prime, he was beginning to smell.

“This,” said Blake, not lifting his eyes “is Charles Walter.”

Arnold had to look away. He was out of his element. He’d never seen this before. His mind hadn’t yet even worked out what was an appropriate reaction. In shock, he remembered something else just then. His eyes drifted to a sign hanging above the bar. It read, “Dead man’s Pearl Saloon.” Dead Man’s Pearl … Dead man’s pearl… Of all the places to die!

He laughed. It happened before he or could stop himself or even realized it, and he immediately wished he could take it back. Why had he laughed? He’d surprised himself.
Blake was not amused.

“Most people called him Chuck. He was shot in he back of the head and found around 11 o’clock pm last night. Our primary suspect is Blythe. Leander Blythe, the bar owner. His wife probably played a hand. We can’t seem to turn her up either. ”

“Was there a clear motive?” Asked the young man, keeping his voice even. He needed to redeem himself from his recent blunder. Up until then he hadn’t dealt with anything worse than a drunken brawl and felt an overwhelming urgency, to prove himself up to the task.

“Well…” said Blake finally meeting his colleague’s eyes. “As it turns out… Leander might have been…” he looked over his shoulder conspiratorially as if someone might be listening. “….Queer.” That explained everything. Arnold raised an eyebrow. He’d never encountered anything like this in his career as sheriff. He couldn’t help but recoil.

“And to think I sat right here every night after work and drank a mule-skinner and cactus wine poured by the likes of him.” He and Blake shook their heads. “I guess you never really know a guy.”

“And that’s not even the strangest part. He was caught by Chuck here.”
Blake paused for dramatic effect. “With the nigger.”

Arnold had definitely never seen anything like this. “You mean Ely?”

“Yeah, Ely. The ferrier. Lived in a shack in the bushes, and seemed to prefer horses and mules to people. I couldn’t gather much information on Him. Nobody seems to know where he came from. I would guess that he was either once a runaway slave or a buffalo soldier who deserted. Anyways, Chuck caught the two of them…” Suddenly his voice broke, as though about to say something too disgusting for words. “-Kissing…” he finally managed. “So Chuck and some of the church-folk beat the ever-loving tar out of those two. Chuck said that they both ran off, and he tried to kill Leander but he missed.” Arnold looked taken aback.

“Chuck never missed. Everybody knows that. He used to shoot pigeons through the eye and could shoot the tail right off a buffalo in full gall-”

“Everyone misses,” Blake interjected, uninterested. “He said he shot Ely dead, but his body was snatched up by Indians.”

“…Ely seemed like a nice enough fellow. Seems a shame.” Blake had not heard (or pretended not to hear) his colleague.

“I figure that Leander didn’t take too kindly to being run off. Came back for a bit of revenge and bed him down, poor bastard. Eleanor Probably played a hand, but we can’t be certain how much of a hand. They’re both on the run and they’re wanted for murder. And robbery. They went to his house and took off with most of his earnings and all of his silver. When the law finally catches up with those two it’ll be the old three legged mare, I suspect.” The gallows. “Tit for tat.”

Blake looked from Chuck back to Arnold and suddenly regarded him with grave intensity.

“There’s something else.”
Blake fell silent, and seemed to have great difficulty figuring out what to say. The longer Blake stayed silent the more it bewildered Arnold. ‘What on God’s green Earth,’ he wondered ‘could be terrible enough to have Sherriff Blake tongue-tied?’

“And kidnapping. They took his wife.