The Telemachus Story Archive

An End to Jake
By Will Scott



Yup, I remember like it was last week, not sixty years ago.  Like I took a leap from the mountain of 19 to the ditch of 79 that’s how fast the time goes.  Damn boy if you don’t believe another word I say, make hay while the sun shines cause it gets cloudy and rainy mighty fast. Ah, hell, enough of them gloomy thoughts.  I’m glad you came to see me.  You bein’ such a young man yourself, such a fine looking young man wouldn’t think you would want to spend any time vasitin with an old coot like me.  How old are you now son, twenty-three, twenty-four.  What a fine age. I know if your mother, my sister were alive today she would be mighty proud how you turned out, such a good lookin young buck and a historian with a fancy degree from the university.  But I’m rambling.  You wanted to know about Jake. Seen some old documents did you from long ago.  About the trial and the killin of that damn varmit.  Curse that black hearted monster, hope he rots in hell forever. He deserved every second of the screamin agony he went through there at the end but lets start at the front of the story. Yup, I remember when he rode into Spring Water, Montana.  You know Montana weren’t even a state back then, just a lawless territory, didn’t become no state till, let’s see, 1889 or there abouts. Anyway, I remember the first time I saw Jake.

I was workin in McCormack’s feed store. Actually had just taken a few minutes break since Mr. McCormack was out back with the boys. Now I gotta tell you a few words about Mr. McCormack and his family.  They were about the nicest folks you’d ever want to meet.  He and his missus took me in when my ma and pa died of diphtheria in ’86.  They had two sons.  Both fine good lookin lads. Luke and Mark, yup that where their names.  Luke the oldest.  I reckon he where  about my age, and his kid brother was maybe ten.  They treated me real well, makin me feel part of the family as it were.  We was always playing around when we weren’t workin, playin stick ball or skinny dippin in the creek on warm summer days.  Those two fellows were my best friends, that’s what makes all this so hard to remember even now after all these long years.  Anyways McCormack was out in back helping to load some feed along with his two boys so I snuck out in front and had a smoke and while I’m rollin my cigarette and leanin up against the outside wall I look up and there is this feller riding into town.

The first sight of him nearly took my breath away he was such a sight. I’d never seen a more perfect lookin man in all my years and that’s the truth.  Tall he was, riding  with his back straight like one of those pictures you see of the old time Spanish Conquistadors, like the ones on the walls of the library.  Dark complexion he had, olive like.  And a scruffy beard like he hadn’t seen a razor in about two weeks.  All black stubble but on him it looked, well, nephew, you know your old Uncle here is gay, so I shouldn’t pretend it didn’t give me a hard on. And his eyes. Even from a distance those eyes, so blue, like corn flowers set against that rugged sun bronzed face, those thick dark eyebrows and lashes, that lantern like chin. He had full red lips, like a perfect summer plum they were so read and full.  It was a combination made in heaven. His smile, damn he had a smile that would light up the great western sky, so broad and warm, a smile that invited all the world in.  And then there were his shoulders, so well muscled, almost unnatural they was, so perfect you could tell even with him warein’ a dirty raw hide jacket.  I also remember lookin’ at his hands, the way he held the reins of the horse.  Long tapering fingers that extended from powerful wrists.  You know Nephew you can tell a lot about a man from his hands and I should have recognized somethn’ weren’t quite right.  His hands were too perfect, not natural lookin like a cow pokes or farmers hands, something  too delicate, hell I don’t know, just something about em.  But anyway  as I was sayin’ I could see his thighs near to bursting through his saddle worn jeans.  Damn if these thoughts don’t still make me a little hard. The saddle horn blocked my view but in my mind I imagined he sported a mighty big basket between those powerful legs. Damn!  Like I say he was the most perfectly formed young feller I done ever seen. He rode right up to were I was standin, jumped off his mount and fast as greased lighitn hitched his horse to the rail in front of the feed store and bounded into  McCormack’s with me slack jawed following close behind, ready to do his bidding.  You know Nephew, I got quite a big sort of a crush, I guess you could say,  a crush come over me so fast like I had been struck by lighting. I could feel the warmth glowin in my balls…forgive me, I sound like a dirty old man now but hell, I was young and strong and not so bad lookin myself once upon a time and was randy morning, noon and night.  I never laid a finger on the McCormack boys, them bein like brothers and all.  I did have a few rolls in the hay loft from time to time with some  horney saddle tramps but that’s all another story and you want to know about Jake.  So, like was I sayin, that feller just marched into the feed store like he owned the damn place.  Luke was stockin some shelves with canned goods, standin on a ladder.  I remember how good he looked from the back side.  He had a real good build on him and in tight Levi’s his ass was like…well, let’s say it was might pretty and let’s leave it at that.  Anyways, I was too taken with this stranger to pay much attention to Luke.

“Good afternoon, may I trouble you for fifty feet of hemp rope and where do you keep your pick axes?” he says just as smooth as you could imagine.  His voice, I can shut my eyes and hear his voice, a rich deep low man’s voice it was, like he shoulda been on the stage in one of those tourin Shakespeare shows we sometimes got through town.

“Yes sir, right away” says I not lettin Luke jump in ahead of me.  And he turns and looks at me with those blue eyes and I could hardly remember what he asked for.

“Sir, you’d step this way, we have some pick axes back here in the corner” say’s I barely able to look him in the eye, blushing as I am, like some silly school girl.

“Well thank you” he says.  I can tell, just by the way he says these words that he is not from around here.  Has one of them high fallutin’ sounding accents, real cultivated like he was one of them Shakespeare actors I was telling you about.  Leading the way with him following me I could almost feel the warmth from his body, my imagination I recollect now but that’s how I remember it. 

“You doing some prospecting around here?” I manage to mutter trying to make small talk.

“That’s right. I heard there might be some silver in this part of the country.  I’m from Boston, back East, thought I’d have an adventure or two before settiling down in the city.”

“Clear Spring is as good a town as any I guess” said I with civic pride in our small town.

Now Clear Spring was not much more then a pimple on the state map.  Had about two hundred souls livin in town and another five or six hundred on farms around the area, maybe a full day’s ride out.  The folks in town were a decent lot but a little wary of strangers and pretty strict they were too.  I knew if they ever found out I liked men, my God, they would have nutted me and hung me up to dry.  They had a real vicious streak in ‘em too. After all you have to remember a lot of these settlers had been through Indian wars, seen a lot of horrible things done both to them and they to the Indians. Lots of really bad torture, caught the blood lust from those times, passed it on to their kin.  Plus our town was pretty isolated so the towns folk often had to take the law into their own hands.  They figured that an eye for an eye was ok but an eye and a lot of other body parts for an eye was a hell of lot better. I saw it once when they hung a saddle bum accused of raping a farm lady. Went wild they did, turned into a mob but of course I hadn’t seen anything yet, not like what was to happen later on with that devil Jake.

Anyway, there I go again, getting ahead of myself.

“So” I says, “ you stakin a claim around here?”

“Maybe, time will tell.  What’s your name? Mine’s Jake. Jake Adams from Boston at your service.”

“Mine’s Peter, Peter Fitch” and he put out his hand to shake mine and as our two palms met a thrill went through me like nothin’ I’d ever felt before. His grasp was firm, tight, reassuring.  His long fingers wrapped around mine and then for just a second I thought I felt him take his forefinger and caress my knuckles.  Well, you can’t imagine.  My bein always horney as hell at that time and me guessin that he he’s been a long time in the lonesome saddle.  Well one thing led to another and the next thing you know he’s askin me what time I finish up at the feed store and would I like to ride out to his camp site?

Well hell, you can imagine how long it took me to answer that question.

The next six hours dragged on like all eternity but eventually it came to close up shop.

Usually I went home, had dinner then maybe played some cards or read a little before climbin into bed.  The McCormack’s fixed up a little shed in the back of their house for me once I was a grown man.  See how thoughtful them folks were.  They sure didn’t deserve what happened to them.  Anwyas, once the work was done I asked Mr. McCormack if I could borrow his rig.  Luke and Mark of course wanted to go with me but I put them off, sayin I was going over to the Methodist Church to visit the Reverend.  One stupid lie that was.  They could see right through me. Hardly ever went to church except to a funeral or two and once to a wedding.  Anyhow, the next thing you know I’m on the wagon headed out of town and up into the hills.  Jake had given me some rough directions and since I knew these hills around town pretty well I had no trouble at all findin’ his campsite.  All the way there I was half stiff in anticipation of what I hoped would be one hell of a tumble. Once I saw some smoke driften up over the pines and smelled the fat back fryin the pan I new I was pretty close.  I hitched the wagon horse to a stout tree and climbed up and over the rocks in the direction of the smell and smoke.  And there hunched over the little fire, bare chested and lookin like something outta a picture book.  His bronzed back glistened with sweat, highlight each and every muscle.  His thick black hair tumbled down hiding his face making him look a little mysterious.  When he heard me coming he stood up and turned to face me.  And Nephew, the sight of that chest, all hair covered but you could tell the cut of his muscles, and his gut looked like the washboard Mrs. McCormack used to clean our cloths with.  His man tits barely showed through the curling black fur but still they could be seen, two tiny rose buds they were, perfectly formed.  It was all I could do to refrain from burying my face into one of those nips without so much as a howdy do.

“Glad you could make it.  Want some brandy?  I brought a bottle all the way out from Boston.” His right hand reach into his back pocket and brought out a little silver hip flask which I took without hesitation.

“Thanks” I muttered as I took a deep gulp.  I’d never had brandy before and the taste was pretty amazing.  Like hot liquid gold goin down my gullet.  Well it wasn’t long before we were sitting cross legged on the ground passin that hip flask.  It didn’t take to long, what with the warmth of the little fire and me havin an empty stomach to start feelin more relaxed. I just wanted to touch him so badly.  To put my hand on this thigh, to bury my face in his chest, to taste his sweat, to suck on his tit. Lordy it was a powerful urge.  But still we kept talking, or actually it was me that did the talking, a mile a minute to cover up my nervousness.  He just listened, maybe asked a few questions, can’t remember but then at last while I was in mid sentence he leaned over, took my head in both his hands and kissed me full and hard on the lips.  His tongue was like an invasion separating my lips and teeth and thrusting down my throat.  I had never had that done before and I tell you like lighting my dick came to full attention.  He put his hand down on my crotch to feel my hardness and I nearly came right there and then.  Well Nephew the next thing I know we’re both out of our cloths and rolling around on the dirt like the two horniest dogs you ever seen.  He flipped me on my stomach and without so much as a little spit skewered me like a pig on a spit.  The pain was really awful but I never wanted it to end.  His long fingers dug into my chest like he was holding me for dear life.  His nails nearly broke the skin he held on so tight but I didn’t care.  I was so hard and raring to come.  Well, I’ll leave the wrest to your imagination.

Once he came we pulled out a blanket and lay in each other’s arms, just lookin up at the night sky, all full stars it was.

“So tell me about that store you work in?  They do a lot of business?”

“Sure do, why McCormack’s is the only feed and hardware store in probably a hundred miles.  Clear Spring isn’t much of a town but farmers and ranchers come from miles around.  Why some days we take in as much as a thousand dollars, sometimes even more.

And the McCormack’s are such nice folks.  Always willin to help out poor farmers and offer credit.”  I went on like that exaggerating a little to impress Jake, particularly about how much money the store took it.  Why sometimes the McCormack’s didn’t have enough to eat themselves, particularly in the winter but I figured Jake was just passing through so he’d never find out. Plus I had really fallen for him hard.  I knew I didn’t want to stay workin a feed store the rest of my life.  Maybe if I built myself up enough he might think about hookin up with me, maybe take me back to East.  Ah, I was so full of plans and dreams.

“I didn’t see a bank when I came into town today.  What do you folks do with all that cash?”

I was an idiot, blind, stupid fuckin idiot, just thinkin with my dick and balls.  “Oh Mr. McCormack keeps it in a safe then once a month he and his son’s take it all the way into Billings to a bank there.  Takes them near to three days round trip. They leave me in charge of the feed store.” Well then, the next thing I know I’m flay on my back, legs in the air and Jake’s big dick is pounding away at my now pretty much bleedin hole but I sure didn’t care.  Along about sun rise I stir myself enough to get dressed and head back to town.  Need to get the wagon back to McCormack’s before the day starts.  Of course Jake, he’s sound asleep.  Buck naked spread eagled on the blanket just snoring like a logger.  And me the poor fool looking down at him still full of desire and hope that maybe he might really like me, take me away.  Course I expected to see him, work up a friendship but now I had to high tale it back to town.

The next night I borrowed the wagon and rode out to Jake’s camp but, big surprise, there was no sign of him or the camp.  Just a burnt out fire and the smashed grass where we lay on the blanket.  The flat grass was just like I felt, all flat and kinda sad.  Well hell I thought, it was a fun night and hey I was only nineteen so chalk up the whole experience to a good fuck.  Of course he was the one that fucked I just got screwed.

The next couple of weeks went on as usual.  Work, reading some and playin games with my adopted family.

But then all  this changed. Early one Thursday morning, before sun up Mr. McCormack and his two sons emptied the safe, rigged the wagon, gave me some instructions about an order of feed that was coming in during the day and to be sure to let Mr. Baldwin, a poor local farmer have a little on credit.  They drove off down the still silent street, me hardly givein them a wave good by.  Of course how was I to know that would be the last time I heard from them.

Now as long as I live there is one thing I will never forget and that is the sound that came out of Mrs. McGregor that Saturday afternoon when the sheriff and two of his men rode up to the feed store and told her what they had found about twenty miles out of town.

The sound was like what you hear maybe a banshee sounds like when it’s comin’ to get ya at the end.  A wail, a cry, a scream, a curse from hell all mixed together.  I stood behind the counter listenin as the men told her that they had found the bodies of her husband and two sons dead, the horse missing and the wagon overturned.  Well Nephew, after they told her and she let out that blood curdling scream she just sunk to the floor like an empty old sack. Now the sheriff, he comes up to me and tells me what they really found.

Appears as though Mr. McCormack and the young brother had been shot clean but Luke and my best pal in the world, him the found a little further off in the woods.  Spread eagled between some old trees, tark naked he was with whip marks all over his body, bleedin from the ass, and a rock dangling from between his legs. Sheriff said it was enough to make you believe that the devil ready existed for who else but a devil could do such a thing to a fine lad like Luke.

Well, when I heard this I nearly threw up right there.  Somehow in an instant I knew, just knew as sure as I was standin there that it was that hell hound Jake that done it and to make it all worse, it was all my damn fault.  By God I swore that I would get Jake and make him pay and pay and pay till he begged for mercy, begged to be put out of his misery.  But hell no I thought, I’d just just make him pay some more.

Course, when the town’s folks heard about the McCormack men they made pretty much the same vow. 

The next three days are hard to remember.  The cart coming back into town with the three bodies, the little service in the dusty cemetery.  Mrs. McCormack sorrta went into shock.  Thing I remember most clear like is her stillness, like she was dead herself. As soon as the bodies were found a few of the men in town and the local sheriff got a posse together and started combin the country side. I woulda gone with them but didn’t want to leave Mrs. McCormack alone, ‘fraid she might do something to herself.  Anyway, about a week goes by and I’m sweepin out the feed store where I hear a commotion comin down the street.  People started pourin out onto the sun baked street. Standin on the porch I could see over their heads and the sight I saw filled me with a mixture of rage and just a twinge of sadness.  For their was Jake, hands tied behind his back, a noose around neck half walkin half stumbling  a few steps behind the Sheriff who sat on his horse proud as all hell.  Jake looked pretty banged up.  I could see he had a black eye, his hair was all covered in dirt and dry leaves, his shirt was turn exposing his right pec. I could see that hairy chest and one of those nipples that had driven me to such a frenzy of lust a few days ago.  He pants were filthy, like he’d been rollin around in the ground, a few tares revealed those powerful god like thigh and calf muscles. But he sure didn’t look scared or sorry.  Just angry, as angry as I’ve ever seen a man.  He struggled like a mad man and he must have been carryin on like this for sometime.  Must men would be exhausted by now but now Jake.  He was gonna go down fightin, that was certain.  The crowd was screamin now for his blood, yells of string ‘im up and geld the bastard pierced the air but the Sheriff was gonna try to make a legal show of it by takin him to the jail house for a proper trail. It took a few gun shots in the air by the Sheriff and his deputy to disperse the crowd and make a passage for the fugitive but soon enough the parade was over.  Jake was locked away and the crowd folk high tailed it to the local saloon.

Well Nephew there was a hell of a lot a drinkin at the saloon that night.  Folks started talking about what they should do to that evil monster locked up in the cell. I was right along with them.  It passed through my mind that maybe, just maybe he was not guilty, after all, didn’t we believe in a trial and all that, presenting evidence and such. But who else could have done this?  And since I had opened my big fat trap and told him about the money being taken out of town and all, well I didn’t need to convincein or damn trial.  Just wanted to hear that fucker scream and beg for mercy.

So, long about midnight a bunch of are drunk as skunks and huddled around a table in the back room planin on makin the stranger pay.

One guy said he would get the rope, another would get some a bunch of skewering needles, a third would bring his bull emasculator while others offered to bring rifles and hand guns lest anyone try to stop us. We figured the best time would be the following tonight.  We also needed a location. One of the old ranchers at the table suggested we use the old auction barn. It had a high stage area where the cattle were displayed.  There were some high beams over the stage area that could be used for hoistin and tien the criminal and lots of room for spectator for we were all pretty sure that everyone in town would be attending.  And then there was the fact that the auction house was a couple a miles outside of town so it was kinda private so if anyone who weren’t with us and thought maybe this fucker deserved some kinda trial, well, they would have trouble finding the place before it was to late.

I stumbled back to the McCormack’s place around sun up.  Mrs. McCormack was sittin in the parlor, in the half dark just starin into space.  Break you heart it would to have seen her. Eyes wide open starin into the dark nothingness of her mind.  Guess it was a blessin. She seemed beyond feelin.

I got washed and headed over to the feed store, terrible throbbing hangover beatin at my head all day long, the hours just creepin’ by.  Not to many customers came by which was good since I wasn’t much up for work.  Just countin the hours till sun down and the time to meet the rest of the fellers at the saloon and to start our night’s task.

Well, at long last night came.  I looked in on Mrs. McCormack, still sitting, still rockin, still starein into space. Guess her mind was gone.  Anyways, I hitched up the wagon, threw in some chains since we were gonna transport Jake in this rig to the auction house and set off for town.  My eyes kept fillin with water every time I thought about Mr. McCormack and his two sons. I didn’t care if died myself after that night’s work was done.

When I got to town a crowd much bigger then I had ever imagined was in the street.  A lot of folks held flaming torches that gave off a lot of smoke.  Made the street look like the vestibule to hell it did.  The orange flames, the giant shadows of the crowd dancing against the outside of the jail.  The strange thing was that aside from the sound of my wagon wheels and clop of the horse everyone was silent.  It sure was eerie, the silence, almost like church kinda silence.

Once I got the rig pulled up in front of the jail house the crowd new that the time had come. Now Tom Firth who had been Mr. McCormack’s best friend in the world took the lead. Tom was a mountain of a man. He was the town’s black smith and wheelwright, with arms like hams and fists like Bert Akers.  Don’t know if you know who that was but he was a mighty boxer in his day.  So Big Tom as we called him goes strait up to the door of the jail, and with all his might starts bangin on the door shouted at the top of his lungs, “Sheriff we come for that damn piece of shit you got in there.  Open this door or we’ll burn the place down.”  There was a long silence then slowly Old Sheriff Toms opens the door. He looks not at all scared, just kinda resigned.

“Now folks you all outta go home and let the law handle this but me and my deputy Pat aint’ able to fight you all so….” And before he could finish Tom brushed him aside like a summer fly and with me and a few of the other ring leaders marched into the one room jail. Now there was Jake sittin bolt upright on the edge of his cot.  You could see even in the dim light from the kerosene lamp that his face was covered in an icy cold sweat.  His eyes, why his eyes were like great big saucers they were so filled with fright.  His mouth kinda hung open.  Those full lips that I had wanted to hang on were drawn back in a grimace of pure terror. And even sittin down you could see him shaking like summer leaves in a storm and instead of that tan olive complexion he was simply grey. I could just imagine him with Luke those last hours as he tortured and raped that handsome young fella, my best friend in the whole world and now here he was the biggest damn shit kickin coward about to face his own end.

Before Tom and the fellas could find the key to his cell he was on his feet and cowering against the wall screaming, “What are you going to do me?  You got the wrong man.  I don’t know what happened to those men.  So help me God., you have to believe me. What about a trial and judge. This aint right, heaven help me” and on and on he went like a ravin lunatic. 

“You got some nerve boy callin on God to help you, you devil.  Before this night is over you’ll wish you were not born a man, then you’ll wish you were dead but death ain’t gonna come easy to you.  You gonna suffer like you in hell before you get there” replied Tom, egged on with countless other curses and warnings of things to come.  Me and the other men addin our voices to Tom’s.

Tom eventually found the key and in an instant the cell bars sprang open.  The Sherif and the his deputy were long gone at this point. “Ok, drag him out, strip him naked, then hog tie him and get him in the back of the McCormack wagon.  Tie him good a tight.” Tom took the lead in supervising the stripping.  Two of the men held Jakes arms as one man took his hands and yanked Jake’s shirt off in two quick tares. Another couple of guys were on the floor wrestle his boots and socks off then they stood up and pulled his pants and under ware down.  I’m leanin against the bars of the cell just watchin all this.  And you know as sick as it may sound I couldn’t help but think again what an amazing body Jake had.  Such a beautiful manly well muscled form.  His hair covered chest with all that muscle, his wash board stomach with the thin streak of hair that ran from just between his two man tits down towards his belly button and then straight down to the root of his cock. And his cock, well it was simply huge.  Never seen a man hung like that.  I gather from the silence of the fellas that was strippin him that none of them had ever, short of seeing a donkey or bull, seen a man with such a long thick dick or low hangin balls.  Man, there was going to be a lot to torture down there between his legs.  Tom was right when he said he would be sorry for bein born a man. Jake’s dick was a solid nine inches, thick with a bulbous head.  His balls were really gigantic and even in his terror they hung pretty low down his leg.  It was no wonder I was sore as hell after my night bein fucked by that stallion.  As soon as Jake was stripped and hog tie and believe you me these farmers and ranchers knew how to hog tie a man I made my first suggestion. “Tie up his dick and balls, make ‘im stick out, make a better target.” Tom came right back with, “I got some leather ties right here in my pocket, use one of these” as he handed me about a six foot length, plenty long enough to do the trick.

Now I see you lookin at me Nephew like you can’t imagine me doin all this.  I been livin with that question for a long time.  It is like we all got drunk together, drunk on the fury we felt for what this killer did to an entire family but something more, more complicated like.  There was something about this man, so perfect, so handsome and powerful, the kinda guy that you envy like crazy and even desire, even the straight men that night, there had to be some kinda lust in their hearts along with the need for revenge.  I know that’s how I felt. I’m ashamed to admit it but you know, lookin at Jake, all trussed up, struggling like a wild bronco, and hung like one too as I told ya, you know I felt a kinda sexy thrill at the sight, like my dick had a minds of its own. 

So,  Tom hands me the tie and I kneel down by Jake and grab his dick and balls, mighty rough I handled ‘em.  Just wrapped by fist around his ball and pulled down as far as they would go without rippin ‘em off the guy and looped the rawhide good ‘n tight around them, bad them shinny.  I’ll never forget how those balls felt in my hand, the weight and size of those plums.  I could hear Jake moanin’ as I’m sure it must have hurt like hell, havin’ his balls yanked on that way, anyways, I then took what was left of the tie and made a tight noose around the root of his prick.  In a matter of seconds the dick was filled and standin’ out straight ahead all read and blue and shiny it was.  It was a sight to see, let me tell you.  His dick like a flag poll and his balls turning blue and shiny.  I got a climpse of eyes as I started to stand up and they was near poppin out of his head.  “Why Peter are you doin’ this.  I didn’t no nothin’” he kept sayin over and over but of course I could hardly hear his words as the other men in the room started to lift him up onto their shoulders. They was makin a hell of a lot of noise about it too.   Callin’ down curses on the young fella and lettin’ him know what was in store.  I stepped aside to the let them through and out the jail house door.  For just a moment when the crowd saw Jake, trussed up like that and lifted high on the men’s shoulders a hush fell over ‘em like you could have heard a pin drop. The way the light from the flaming torches played against his naked sweat covered body, him still twistin and turning like a hooked eel, let me tell you it was a sight right out of book I once saw about Hell, something by an Italian fella named Dante I saw once in a library with these pictures by some other guy, think his name was Dore.  See Nephew I’m not totally illiterate.

Well, anyway,  then like  the sound of distant thunder that grows louder as it travels through the mountains and valleys the people began first to whisper then murmur which turned into a  yell and scream like so many demons themselves.  I’ve never seen a crowd go crazy for blood and vengenance and let me tell you it was something I’ll plum never in a million years forget. In a few minutes Jake was dumped belly first into the back of the McCormack wagon.  I got up on the rig and got the horse movin but the crowd was so thick around the cart that it was slow goin.  A lot of the folks picked up dirt or small stones and even some picked up horse dropins they found on the road and pelted Jake, not so hard as to do him in but hard enough to make him scream and moan.  It took nearly an hour to get out to old auction barn, the crowd bein’ so thick around the rig.  And all the while I’m drivein’ them horses I hear Jake moanin and rollin around in the back.  I start to wonder just a little if maybe he aint the dude that killed the McCormacks.  Could we all be wrong about him?  What if he didn’t do it I kept thinking.  Then it was me and all the other folks that would end up in hell. It was pretty painful, these thoughts of mine, not knowin for sure, the doubt. But if he wasn’t guilty how come he asked me all those questions.  There weren’t any other strangers about and sure as shootin no one in town would ever touch a hair of a McCormack head, that’s how much those folks were liked in town.  But damn, just maybe we was wrong.  It was drivin me mad. Felt like I would loose my mind during that trip out to the barn.  Somehow maybe I could get Jake to confess.  But then could any of us believe him?  Confess to save his precious man hide?

Some of Tom’s friends had driven out to the auction barn ahead of the parade so when we got there the big double doors stood wide open.  They had hung a bunch of lanterns from the uprights around the place.  The big platform at the far end of the barn was lit up by a kerosene chandelier that hung over head. As soon as I looked in I saw the ropes that dangled from the cross beam over the platform.  There was a little table to the right side of the stage that had some metal things on it but I was to far to see what they were. Besides the crowd was so thick I couldn’t see much, havin to keep my eye on the horse to prevent him from stompin on some of the folks.  So, anyway I will pull up the wagon to the front of the barn and crowd swoopes in like around the back of the cart like a bunch of crows attacking a spilled bag of feed.  I can hear Jake screamin again as they lift him out of the back and pass him along overhead and into the barn.  I turn to watch and what a sight it was.  Him bein held up so high, squiming and crying out.  Wish someone woulda put a rag in his mouth.  That screamin and pleaded was drivin me nuts.  Anyway, since I knew nohtin would start without me, me bein the representative for the McCormacks as it were, I hitched the rig to a post outside and slowly made my way into the barn.  By the time I got there, Jake had been put up on the platform, untied just long enough to rope his wrists and haul him up off the ground some three feet.  When I get there Tom and his boys were tiein his ankles to two upright posts, like a damn wish bone, they was pullin his legs apart.  His cock and balls, were still tied and his rod was standin straight out in front of him like May pole.

“Peter, come on up here” shouted Tom as the crowd seemed to quiet down a little, letting me pass up the center like Moses parting the Red Sea.  All eyes seemed to be on me while I really only saw Jake.  His body now more naked and exposed then I guess he had ever been.  What must it have been like for him to be so naked in front of all them folks who only wanted to see and hear him suffer.  What was the terror like?  I remember how much he sweated.  The water seemed to be pourin off his body, drippin down on the rough boards below. He was lookin straight ahead like a scarred rabbit.  What a contrast, that look of terror from a man whose body was so perfect and powerful.  All his muscles, all his charm and good looks weren’t gonna save him, no how, no way and he knew it Nephew, to the depths of his soul he knew he was doomed, you could see it in his eyes.  One second they flashed defiance, the next second the seemed to be begging for mercy but the crowd was not be put off from their awful vengeance. I walked real slow up that aisle.  I wanted to make this night last as long as possible knowing that eventually it would end for him, but the pain and hurt, the whole that was left in my heart and the loss for the town would last a life time.  At first I don’t think he saw me comin’ towards him but then once he noticed me get up on the platform, he looked square into my face.  I could see he was havin trouble seein, the stingin sweat drippin down his forehead into his eyes. He kept blinking, tryin to see through the burn in his eyes, those corn flower blue eyes that just a week ago I had so loved.  Hell I would have followed this man anywhere he asked, back to Boston even.  But now I would destroy that beauty, cut and burn and rend that dream and enjoy every second of it. 

When I got to the top of the platform I stop to inspect the items that had been laid out on the auctioneer’s desk.  There was a bull whip, a donation from one of the cattle ranchers, the gelding tool, a lot of long mettle squires that use for trussin up a turkey at Thanksgiving and a knitting needle. More then enough I thought. As I’m standin there, contemplating where to begin I hear a woman in crowd break the silence with a yelled, “Whip him, whip the hide off his back,” I glanced over at the spread eagled Jake who seemed be paralyzed with fear at this point.  His diaphragm taken in tiny gulps of air. Never breaking my cold stare I reached to the table and felt around for the hilt of whip.  I felt it’s well worn leather as I pick it up.  What a sensuous feel it had to my hand.  The weight, so well balanced.  Could something so well crafted, as guess you might say elegant a thing as this cause so much pain?  Of course I didn’t know a thing about how to use a bull whip. Being a feed store clerk, didn’t have much use for a bull whip.  So, I’m standing there with this whip in my hand when Big Tom steps forward, grabs it outta my hands and says, “Step back son, this is a big man’s job.  I got plenty experience using a bull whip.” Reluctantly I handed it off as Tom’s meaty red hand wrapped around the butt of the whip.  I moved off the platform but stayed close to the platform.  Tom snapped the whip a few times in the air.  The sound was like a bullet that echoed in the barn.  The crowd held its breath.  Jake’s eyes already wide as a full moon nearly popped outta his head as he heard the whip’s report.  Tom stepped behind Jake just far enough for the tail of the whip to meet his rippling muscled back and with a few preliminary whirls let the first strike land. The supple raw hide sliced into Jake’s back with a clean cut almost like a razor blade had been take to that flesh.  Jake’s body leapt forward as much as the ropes would allow as he sucked in a great gulp of air before letting out a bellow of protest.

Tom raised his arm and let another blow land, this time making an X crossing the first laceration.  Again Jake bounced forward with such force this time you would have thought he would have dislocated his shoulders.  Another bellow, another whistling whip sound, and lurch forward and a piercing scream.  The crowd was totally silent.  Only the sound of the leather against flesh, the ropes pulling at the over beam and uprights and the man’s screams broke that awful silence.  I lost track of how many strokes Jake got but eventually it looked like he was gonna faint dead away.  I heard him mutter a little then started beggin for water. “What’s that he’s sayin?” asked someone in the crowd. “Think he might like a drink” came another voice. “Give it to him, don’t want him diein’ a thirst before his time” added a third. I saw a few old filthy rags wadded up near the edge of the platform. “Wait” I said, “I got an idea since there don’t seem to be any spring water around, just wait a minute” I added.  I grabbed a rag, and bein a little pee shy went off into a corner, undid my trousers and pissed a mighty stream, drenchin the rag.  Then with the soaked piece of cloth in my hand I jumped up on the stage, walked right up to Jake and stuffed the foul smellin’ and nasty tastin rag deep into his throat.  Jake tried desperately to spit it out but in no time someone from the crowd offered me a length of rope to tie it into place. I could see Jake was havin a hard time breathen so I lossen it just a bit so he could get enough air not to pass out.  I’ll never foreget the look he gave me.  It haunts me like his ghost sometimes late at night.  That look, what was he tryin to say.  That he didn’t do it?  That he didn’t understand why I was doin this to him.  A look of such total terror and sadness.  Damn, just thinking about it. Of course now we’ll never know for sure.  After all these years.  The rest of my life ruined by that guy.  My life full of guilt.  But of course at the moment I was still so filled with hate and with lust, yes, I still found him so, well, so beautiful, naked, bruised, spread eagled.  Sweat soaked and bruised body still so perfectly muscled and strong, a magnificent beast, that is what he was.  The stillness was at last broken as the crowd started getting restless.  “Get on with it” and “get some of them skewers” and other suggestions were thrown from the crowd.

Now it was my turn.  I moved over to the table and grabbed six of the them thin long turkey needles then came back and stood in front of Jake.  I looked at his chest.  Those pec muscles were so perfect and those little rose bud nips peakin outta all the soft black fur, a perfect target.  With one hand I grasped his nip and pulled it out and away from his chest as far as possible then with the other began to drive a skewer into the flesh just a tiny bit behind his tit.  Very slow. I could feel the flesh give with a tiny little pop sound then I felt the firm muscle resisting the metal tip.  Jake’s muffled screams of protest made me go even slower.  I knew this was some terrible pain he was feelin and, well I enjoyed it.  Damn me to hell, but I felt my own balls give a churn and that warm glow down in my cock.  At last the skewer penetrated all the way and popped out the other side.  Jake was simply vibratin with pain.  His head thrown back, his throat, the muscle in his neck all strainin, the veins in his throat nearly poppin out. The sweat porin off him. Then I took another and this one I simply thrust into and through the tit, makin’ a nice X.  His other tit was similarly fixed.  Tiny trickles of blood ran down his chest from the wounded tits, forming a single stream down his belly towards his belly button, down, down to the root of his cock and then splashed silently onto the wooden deck.  I could see he was nearly passed out again but a couple of fierce smacks across his face brought round, that my knee raised into his tightly wrapped balls.  Even through the his ragged stuffed mouth I could hear a groan of agony.  I grab his hair and yanked back his head and brought my face as close to him as I could and whispered, “Why, why did you do those things?”

He tried to shakes his head no.  I tell you I looked into his eyes like I never looked at any human being before or sense.  I wanted to see as deep into his soul as possible but all I saw was a mixture of terror, defiance and for just a fleeting moment, a look that, well, a look that was pure evil. I imagine if there is such a thing in the big world as a devil then this is what his eyes look like.  “Then you can go back to hell where you came from” I whispered in his ear, my mouth so close to him that my lips brushed his face.  With that I moved over to the table and picked up that knitting needle some thought lady had brought. Then without so much as a hesitation I grabbed his fat rigid cock and placed the tip of the needle right at the piss slit.  I looked again into this eyes that seemed now to defy me, to say go ahead, do your worst.  Slowly I inserted the tip into the hole and pushed, every so slowly so he would feel the agony every quart of an inch all the way along that long shaft.  Just holding it, feeling it again after that incredible night we spent at his camp sight, well it made me feel, oh God forgive me, it made me feel, well I started getting hard.  The more he seemed to be suffering the more I got hard.  I could feel my own prick turning into solid wood pressin against my trousers. I was certain that when I turned to face the crowd that they would be sure to see my hardon but you know in away I was so turned on that it really didn’t’ seem to matter plus there was the thrill of hearin’ the towns folks cheerin me on. I decided there and then to unplug his mouth so the folks could hear his bellowing and screams.  And when I did, well Nephew they were not disappointed.  So then, once the needle was in as deep as it could go I decided it was maybe time to just end it.  The last thing to do was the bull nutter.  I went back to the table got the castrator.  When I walked back to Jake he was half conscious but I took care of that by slapping his face three or four times to bring him round.  NO point in doin’ this less he knew what was happenin’ to him.  I held up the device, a clamp with near razor sharp teeth.  It weren’t to clean either, lots of stains from bulls blood over the years turned the grey metal a rusty brown color.  Held it up in front of his eyes so he got the idea. I’ve never seen a man look so damn shitless scared.  His whole body, well it was like an earthquake was goin on inside.  He shook so violently, the ropes dug deep rope burns into his wrists and ankles and sweat flew all over me.  I grabbed his balls with my left hand. I could feel their weight, so shiny they were, of course now that they’d been tied up for so long, they were red as a fire engine.  I toyed with his balls for a few minutes, the last feelin’ he’d ever have.  I wanted him to know, to feel. The I opened the vice and placed it over the ball sack.  The spring was a strong one so it was hard to keep it open but with one last look into those blue eyes that seemed as thought they would pop right out of his head, the cords of his neck like so tense I thought they might snap then I released the spring, the teeth but and cut right through the soft flesh holdin his manhood and with a might bellow from his lips that was nearly drowned out by the roar of the crowd his ball sack fell to the floor, his head fell forward in a dead faint.

And I collapsed, down on my knees feelin, well Nephew, I don’t know what I was feelin at that moment.  That part is confusin.  I felt glad, I felt sick. The next thing I remember is Tom shouted about  “Now get him down, take em outside and hang the bastard for the buzzards.”  A group of men began untien Jake who was going in and out of consciousness.  I saw them care his near limp body up over someone’s shoulder with Tom following with noose.  But I didn’t want to see none of this.  I just hunched down on the platform and let the crowd and the noise wash over me.

A few days later some law men come through and a visitin Territory Judge and lots of inquires were made.  But our local Sheriff said he had been knocked out the night Jake was taken from the fail so without any witnesses the Judge just filed some papers at the inquest, “killed by person or persons unknown”.  I know the transcripts of the murders of the McCormack family and the aftermath ended up in the County Seat.  And I guess that’s where you found the records.

Well Nephew, I hope you don’t hate your old Uncle and think I’m some kind of monster, turned into the same thing I was destroyin but I wanted you at least to know this dark thing I been carrien in my soul all these years.

Please if you have some time, come again and I promise I won’t tell you all these grim stories.  Good night.