Rebel in the South - Cover

Rebel in the South

Copyright© 2014 by realoldbill

Chapter 54: Janie & Sally

Sex Story: Chapter 54: Janie & Sally - After more than two hundred picaresque stories set in the American Revolution, the journals now cover the war's last two years, 1780-81, with more ribald tales.

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Historical  

Two miles down the track, I rode right into an ambush, a trap for the unwary. I should have noticed how quiet the woods were, but I had not, so I was surprised when two armed men in green coats stepped out in front of me and two more came out of the woods behind. I ducked low and spurred my horse into the nearest one, knocking him off his feet before he could lower his weapon. A gun flashed and a ball whipped by my ear as I urged the horse on with my heels.

I stayed as low as I could, holding the horse's neck, and I felt two shots hit her as I neared a curved in the road. She galloped on for ten or twelve strides, one leg flailing and then fell on her face, blowing blood from her nostrils and mouth, lung shot. I scrambled away, yanking my weapons and saddle bags from the dying animal. A shot hit a tree just beyond me as I dove into the woods.

I found a small, dry creek bed, slid into it and shucked off my goods. I got my breath, rested my rifle on the bank and waited. The four of them stopped on the road, held a noisy discussion, spread out and came charging after me, yelling like red Indians. I primed everything I had while they talked and shot the first one I saw in the belly at about thirty paces. The heavy rifle ball took him right off his feet. I quickly reloaded the rifle while I scanned the woods. They were cursing and crashing about.

I heard the next man well before I saw him coming up the creek. A big outcropping hid me so he was surprised when I shot him in the face with my pistol a moment after he saw me. He was only ten feet away, but with that pistol, it was an easy shot. He tumbled over, spouting blood out of his forehead, and I grabbed for his musket to add to my arsenal. Luck was with me, as I ducked to do that a ball whistled over my shoulder and struck the big stone I had hidden beside. I found the cloud of smoke where the shot had come from and waited for the shooter to appear.

The sound of a limb snapping behind me made me turn and look up. The man in the tree fired before I could raise my gun. His ball hit me right on the belt, on the point of my pelvis, and spun me around. I steadied, fired the other side of my pistol and missed and then turned back just in time to see a soldier coming toward me, bayonet leveled. He ducked behind a tree when I grabbed the other musket and flared off a wild shot at him.

I was in trouble with a gun on both sides, one high and one low, and a hole in my hip. I lay in my ditch, head against the granite boulder and reloaded both muskets, ignoring the pain at my side as much as I could. Blood was running down my leg. A shot from the tree hit right in front of my face, ricocheted away tearing a chunk out of my shoulder while stone chips almost blinded me and ripped gouges in my right eyebrow. I put the muskets aside and raised my old rifle, waiting for the smoke to clear the tree branches. When I saw the man's face, I fired, and he yelled and fell from the tree, crashing through limbs to thump the ground.

I turned back in time to see the other greencoat's pan flash. I ducked and ran at his tree, my blade bayonet in my hand. He was reloading frantically when I skidded to a stop and gutted him, ripping his belly upward from his groin to his chest. His dropped his weapons and spit out the cartridge in his mouth. He looked down at his open stomach, fell to his knees and grabbed my legs. I kicked him away as part of a lung and coils of innards spilled to the ground.

I felt blood streaming down my leg and arm as I gathered up my belongings and went looking for the man who had shot at me from the tree. My rifle ball had hit him in the shoulder, nearly severing his arm, and he had broken his leg in his fall, two white bones stuck out of his bloody britches. I turned him over with my foot, and he screamed and looked up at me wildly.

"Any more a'you bastards about?" I asked him.

He shook his head. "Don' kill me," he begged.

"Critters'll get you," I told him. "Wild pigs and such."

"Give me a gun," he begged, spitting out blood like something had busted inside him.

I found his musket and put it beside him. "You got any water?" I asked. He shook his head so I went back and found a couple of canteens as well as two fairly heavy purses. I gave him the water and pocketed the handful of coins.

"You got some horses back yonder?" I asked.

He nodded, pouring water down his throat. I propped him against a tree and headed back the way I had come. I almost walked into it again, and if it had not been for the woman, I probably would have. She was howling while one greencoat held her down and the other one was trying and failing to get into her flailing body. He raised his hand to hit her just as I shot him. He sure looked surprised as he fell off the girl, spraying blood all over her and the man holding her arms.

The horses bucked against their ropes as I stepped into the clearing and fixed my bayonet to a musket. The last greencoat stood and raised his hands. I pointed the empty weapon at him and looked down at the woman. She was pulling her soiled clothes together and wiping her face.

"You all right?" I asked.

"Hell no," she said "Go on, kill him or I will." She pulled a spike bayonet from the bleeding soldier's belt and kicked him in the groin while she was doing it. "Well?" she said.

"Don't like killing prisoners." I said, although I had surely done it.

"Shit," she spat, and before I could stop her she stabbed the man with his hands in the air right in the belly, well below his belt. She shoved that spike all the way in so it must have come out his back somewhere. She left the bayonet in him and stepped back, dusting her hands as if she had done a good job.

The man sank to his knees and managed to pull the thing out of his gut before he fell on his face. The woman kicked him, picked up the bloody bayonet and was ready to stick him in the back when I grabbed her arm.

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