Rupert Henderson walked his horse gently and carefully down the path, careful to keep his hands in full view as he entered the yard of Jonathan Afful, owner of the Box J.A. ranch.
He felt a great itch in his crotch and was sorely tempted to reach down and scratch, but he resisted it; hell, that fool Afful was apt to recognize that as a threat and blast away with his shotgun before asking questions later.
Henderson wondered what the itch was all about. He had been feeling it for almost two weeks now, and only last night he had noticed that the skin around his balls had become kind of white and all flaky. It had started shortly after he had been with that new w***e in town – now what was her name?
Hell, sometimes he wondered where Mama Tina, the owner of Sighs and Moans, the local brothe
