The Biggest Gun in the West
by
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As Tall and Stub and the crowd came noisily into the bar, Stub unexpectedly gave an incredibly loud yell: "BIG MAMA," then he laughed out loud. They crowd began to yell for Big Mama too, laughing as they did so. With every eye but Tall's fixed on the stairway, he was examining the bar-dancehall-resturant with eager interest, the crowd waited impatiently for Big Mama to come down and meet Tall. Tall was trying to see into the dinning room-bar when the crowd gave a kind of bass gasp of raw pleasure. Tall looked around then at the stairway to see the most beautiful big women he had ever seen. She was at least six two or three, slender for her height, but not thin, and extremely well built, with perfectly sized breasts for her size and height, narrow waist, bigger hips, long legged, with chestnut brown hair falling to her shoulders, and a strong, bold resolute full lipped face which was too bold and strong to be beautiful, but it was glowingly feminine and attractive, the teeth big and slightly uneven, and gleaming wonderfully white. She was too far away yet for Tall to see the color of her eyes, but her overall appearance was one of singular attractiveness that any man would find irresistible. As Big Mama's girls and customers came into the lobby to find out who was yelling so loud, Big Mama came striding quickly down the stairs, a deep annoyed frown wrinkling her arched eyebrows over her large eyes. When she saw Tall standing out like a giraffe in a dog show, she stopped abruptly to stare at him in wide eyed amazement for a long startled moment, then her right hand went up to her throat and rested there for another long staring moment before she came on down the stairs and walked right up to Tall and looked him over openly and frankly, much like a farmer looking over a prize bull. Tall was the tallest man she had ever seen in all of her life, a life of being taller than most of the men she associated with. He was certainly a sight for sore eyes. Tall frowned for an instant at the bold, frank way Big Mama was looking him over, then his face became peaceful and calm again as he waited silently for Big Mama to finish her inspection. He looked her over just as boldly and frankly, which she seemed to be unaware of, but he knew she was aware of his examination. He noticed that her eyes were large and light grey, a stunning color in contrast to her face which seemed to be lightly tanned instead of protected-from-the-sun-white as so many western women's faces were. She wore a little lip rouge of a medium red which was of just the right brightness to go well with her tanned face, a dusting of rouge on her cheeks and nothing else that Tall could see. Her intensely feminine attractive face evidently needed few artificial beauty aids to make it look better. Tall grinned inwardly with a great deal of appreciation and desire as he look Big Mama over. Yes, she must be the tallest women he had ever seen. He searched back through his memory for a taller women he had known, then he mentally shook his head, nope, she was the tallest awright, and the best lookin' too! In the meantime, as Tall looked Big Mama over, she continued to look him over and she took her time about it, obviously enjoying her intent close inspection. Finally, putting her hands on her hips, and looking up into Tall's eyes, she laughed in frank appreciation as she twisted her body back and forth in front of him and said, "Well, well, what do we have here, boys? This cowpoke look's like he's the big bull a the herd, don't he? My, my, ain't he the biggest and the best lookin' he man ya ever did see? Wowee! What's your name, big man? I'm Big Mama, I own this here hotel." "Name's Sam Tolliver, ma'am. People call me Tall for short." "Oh, they do, eh? Well, big man, there's nothing short about you, that I can see, anyway. You heard about the bet, big man? Is that why you're here?" "Nope, I'm here t'sell an' fix guns. I'm a gunsmith, an' I sell guns an' ammo too. What's the bet?" Big Mama snorted a 'humph' of disappointment and said, "Well, that's too bad, big man, but you're here an' that's what counts, so I'll tell ya about the bet. This here is a whorehouse. I run it. I run the hotel too. It's the best hotel in town. Its the best whorehouse in town too. That right, boys?. (They yelled their agreement). Here's the bet, big man. I bet that the man who can make me scream my best scream in bed ain't been born an' growed up yet, but if there is such a man, he makes me scream my best scream an' he wins the bet an' gets one thousand bucks in cash. Any man who wants to try me has to come up with a hunert bucks, in cash! I made the price that high to keep virgins, greenhorns, an' all kinds a amateurs an' saddle tramps outta the way sos we can git some real studs in this here whorehouse, an' t'keep me from takin' on just any ol' saddle bum drifters that comes ridin' by. I made the bet about a year ago. A hunert a these runts has tried me, but none of 'em even come close to makin' me whisper let along makin' me scream my best. I'm about t'loose alla my faith in men, but, now that a real he man like you showed up, big man, I'm beginnin' t'get my faith back. What d'ya say, sport, do ya think ya can make me scream?
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About the Book
The Biggest Gun in the West
Sam Tolliver, 7 feet 3 inches in his stocking feet, Tall for short, the biggest man in the west, rode into Julian where he met Big Mama, Berverly Rose Wigglesworth (6 feet 4 inches in her stocking feet, the biggest woman in the west), the madam of the biggest and best whorehouse in Julian. Tall also meets Dirty Danny Dunston, 6 feet 4 inches in his stocking feet, and 300 pounds of mean muscle spoilin' for a fight with anyone or anything, anytime, anywhere! And the trouble starts.
The Biggest Gun in the West is not about shoot outs, it's about love outs, that is, sex outs, and may the best man win!
Big Mama has put up one thousand bucks to the man who's the best lover in Julian, one hundred bucks a throw, which is more money than the cowpokes and miners see in a year of hard work so Big Mama isn't too busy, in fact, she isn't busy at all until Tall comes to town. He's the biggest man Big Mama has ever seen; and Big Mama is the biggest woman Tall has ever seen, and, he has the scratch to take Big Mama on and try for that one thousand bucks that's just waitin' for the right man to come and take it! But, big Dirty Danny has already made love to Big Mama, which makes him the best lover in town. He comes to town to make a try at that one thousand bucks, which he figures he's already won since he has proved to Big Mama what he can do (which was a whole lot!). The sad part is, to Dirty Danny, he ain't got the scratch and he can't get it, so Big Mama (she's anxious for some fun) and her girls and some cowpokes secretly put up the money for Dirty Danny so big Tall Tolliver and big Dirty Danny can have a love out to see which one of them can win the one thousand smackeroos from Big Mama! In the meantime, Tall, a gunsmith and seller of guns, puts on a gun show in Big Mama's backyard, where he and the men in town have a shoot out and fast draw contest for prizes. Tall and Dirty Danny win the shoot out and fast draw contest: Tall's a little faster with his greased lightening draw, but Dirty is a better shot. The crowd in Julian love the show Tall puts on, it's like a circus. Dirty can't get the hundred bucks so he gambles with Tall for the pistol he won and his horse, which he loses. He starts a fight with Tall, which Tall wins after a long, bloody no holds barred fight behind Big Mama' whorehouse. Both men are beat to a pulp, which puts an end to the love out until they can recover from their wounds a few days later. Dirty gets the money as noted above and the love out is on. The town watches with baited breath and fast beating hearts, all of the men wishing they were going to make love to Big Mama and win that one thousand bucks!!! Wahoo!!! A lot of the women wish that they were Big Mama so they too could have a love out. Wahoo!!!
About the Author
Robert James Warner was born and raised in Long Beach, California. He went to the local schools. He was drafted in to the Navy on March 9, 1944, during the World War II as soon as he finished his last semester in High School. He was discharged from the Navy on June 16, 1946. Mr. Warner went back to school at Long Beach City College, on the G.I. Bill, taking Mechanical Engineering before he switched to journalism. After about a year and a half at City College, he quit. Mr. Warner had always been interested in writing, but he had huge handicaps to overcome: he couldn't spell (he still can't); and grammar was then and is now a mystery to him. Mr. Warner first began to write when he was about twenty. During the next few years, he wrote some songs, poetry, and short stories, but his output was quite low. From 1947, after Mr. Warner left City College, to 1950, he had a number of different inconsequential jobs--the longest, at Douglas Aircraft in Long Beach where he worked in the blueprint department for eight months until he quit and loafed awhile. In 1950, he enlisted in the Active Naval Reserve as a Weekend Warrior, so that he could learn seamanship and get paid doing it. He has had a life long love affair with boats (building his own) and fishing. About three months later, the Korean War started and Mr. Warner was called back to active duty in the Navy Aircorp for a year. He was discharged in August 1951, serving on three aircraft carriers, operating off of Korea in the China Sea, bombing and strafing the communists! After Korea, Mr. Warner went back to City College for awhile, then got a job on a freighter as a deckhand. He then made two trips to the Hawaiian Islands, about thirty days round trip, hauling bulk sugar for C&H Sugar in Crocket California on the Sacramento River. Leaving the ship in Crocket, he went to Santa Rosa, California, where he washed dishes in a few restaurants and got a poem published in the local newspaper--a big day in his life. Next, he went to Yosemite and washed some more dishes before going home. Mr. Warner has cleaned chicken dung from under the pens; he owned and operated his own auto wrecking yard; owned his own 2nd Store; was half owner of a Yacht Landing; speculated in Real Estate; and worked at some other odd jobs, going to work for the Long Beach Fire Department in 1953 for the next twenty-six years, retiring in October, 1979. Mr. Warner got married in 1961, had his son in 1963, and got divorced in 1973. In 1974, Mr. Warner and his son, Jeff, drove to Alaska during the summer. On his return, Mr. Warner wrote his first novel. Since 1974, Mr. Warner has written 31 novels, about 125 short stories, 2 Civil War history books, and 2 poetry collections.