"THE END JUSTIFIES THE MEANS" Original story by WOLFPEK Illustrations for BOOTLUST by HERODOTUS PASSION, BETRAYAL, BONDAGE (and even a little bit of boot sniffin') IN THE OLD WEST !

Members- Story text is below illustration thumbnails.

The old man had served as Governor since before the territory had become a state. While still in his twenties, he had been rewarded with the Governorship after he fhad “somehow succeeded “ in finding a way to persuade a rebellious Indian Chief to stop his attacks on settlers and the expanding railroad. That prevented much bloodshed, saved many lives, and was very good for business.Through the years, the Governor kept a pair of old cowboy boots in a glass case in his office. Nobody knew who those boots had belonged to or why the governor kept them enshrined near his desk. Now, at the end of his career, the old man feels a need to finally tell the story behind those boots...to finally tell the truth. The whole truth!

Those boots were once worn by a young cowboy named Jake Cooper. When I knew him, me and Jake was both young saddle tramps in our early twenties. To call Jake “handsome” would have been quite an understatement. All the women wanted him, and a lot of us cowboys did too. Everybody figured me and Jake was just good buddies. But that also would have been quite an understatement..

I loved Jake Cooper. I hated Jake Cooper.

I loved his rodeo hardened body. Wanted to see it naked. Never had been allowed to. I loved his bright blue eyes and his rugged face. I loved that Jake always happened to ware his shirts unbuttoned down to the big buckle on his gun belt so his abs and his perfect six-pack just happened to always be on display. Of course, in those days, you didn’t dare touch any of it. Not the abs, not the six pack--Heck! Not even the buckle.

I hated Jake becuase he had learned during his 24 years how he could use his considerable good looks to get women and most men (includin’ me) to do about anything he wanted ‘em to do. And he did that a lot. Jake would lead me to believe we could be more than “saddle pals”. Like, he’d strut around in front of me knowin’ how much I was turned on by seein’ his muscular butt workin’ in those tight jeans he wore. All the while, he’d be flashin’ me his big, warm cowboy grin as if to say, ”You do what I need you to do.. partner; then I’ll do what you need me to do.” But as soon as the deal in question was done, it wouldn’t be Jake’s hot ass I’d get. It’d be his cold shoulder. Jake didn’t care who he charmed, who he tricked, or who he hurt as long as he got what he wanted. His creed was simple, “THE END JUSTIFIES THE MEANS.”

That’s the way it was right up to the time Jake and me, bein’ two of the biggest, strongest cowboys around, was drafted to ride out with a sort of posse to meet up with the infamous Indian Chief, Runnin Bear.

Now, Runnin’ Bear had been a pain in the ass to settlers all year. He’d raided homesteads. He terrorized the crews workin’ on layin’ tracks for the new railroad. All this was standin’ in the way of progress and had to stop. So the posse rode out under a white flag not to capture Runnin Bear but to see if we couldn’t 'nee-go-sh-ate' with him. It included a big powerful dude from the Governor’s office with rough neck cowboys like me and Jake hired to ride along as protection for him.
   
But, what do you know? When we got face to face with Runnin’ Bear, he wouldn’t even talk to the dude from the Governor’s office. The only man he would talk to was..... Jake Cooper! Good ol’ Jake!

Jake got a special personal invite from the Chief. Jake could comeback for a peace parley, but only if NO BIG CROWD OF WHITE MEN came with him. It had to be just Jake and one other rider. And as the chief said that, he pointed directly at ME !

That was it. We were dismissed! On our ride back from this first meetin’, some of the other members of our party were shakin’ their heads in pure disbelief. “Why’d that wily son-of-a-bitch pick you two saddle tramps to come back for a pow-wow?”

The Governor’s Man was pissed as hell! He ordered us to lie, cheat, promise the Chief anything. Just get him to agree to a truce. Remember, “THE END JUSTFIES THE MEANS!”

I paid close attention to this advise, but Jake didn’t even seem to be listenin’. He was too high up on an ego trip from being promoted from saddle tramp to Chief Negotiator. No doubt, he was thinkin’ that the Indian had great respect for him because Jake’s powerful body surely made him the equal of any of the Chief’s warriors. Jake was sure he cold use this customary combination of charm and intimidation to con the savage into takin’ some glittery junk jewery and maybe a hunk of worthless acreage in exchange for peace. Knowin’ Jake, he was probably thinkin’ he might just be the next Governor.

As for me? I just kept playin’ my role as dumb sidekick. But I’d seen somthin’ everybody else seemed to have missed. Somthin’ that fully explained this unexpected turn of events.

What I’d seen was the Big Chief checkin’ out Jake’s hard body. I watched as Runnin Bear’s eyes kept dartin’ back and forth from Jake’s bubble butt and his crotch down to his boots-- then back up from Jake’s boots to his butt and his crotch again. I could tell that-- in his mind-- Runin’ Bear was --strippin’ Jake out of his jeans and his boots--and (I was pretty sure of his skivvies too)! I knew exactly why Runnin’ Bear wanted Jake to come back without his posse. But why had the Chief picked ME to be the only dude allowed to ride in with Jake? The answer to that was real simple. I knew Runnin’ Bear had caught me undressin’ Jake with my eyes too-- boots to butt---butt to boots.

Runnin’ Bear and me never exchanged a single word. But for one hot second, we had looked into each other’s eyes, just long enough to establish that Runnin’ Bear and me had a private understanding. Jake’s hard body was going to be the price Runnin’ Bear would demand for peace. AND THERE’D BE NO NEGIOTIATIN’ about that.!

And me? I was just gonna be the deeee-livery boy!
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