Chapter 81: Settling the Flock

Mouse moved in.

Banshee was less than pleased at first but she kowtowed immediately to the tall, skinny half-breed princess. Apparently Mouse was held in high esteem even if nobody wanted to marry her. Well here I was married to her after a fashion. Historically social customs on marriage had been loose and vague, people would just set up shop together or decamp as they found fit. It wasn’t until organized religion came along and decided that they needed to control it so that they could control the people that things changed. Marriages began and ended without government or religious interference. So Mouse and I were married until one of decided it was over, then it was simply over.

Part of me was furious. I didn’t want women around me and I wasn’t happy when Sonya and then Matilda invited themselves along on my trip. Michelle had turned out to be a very comfortable friend and I now counted her as a partner, but a girlfriend or wife? Well not so much. To top all of that off now I suddenly had two misfits and a princess to deal with. I really had wanted to spend a year just hanging out by myself on the ranch, maybe finding a local friend with benefits at my for the cold nights but nothing like this.

I watched the women bustle around with a strange detachment, this couldn’t possibly be real. The connection to the Chief felt like an onerous situation, I knew he would remain powerful for a while but the Pawnee’s days were numbered. The US would switch alliances over and over again and betray then crush each tribe separately. The people in the lodges around me would end up in a dust pit in Oklahoma in little more than a decade or so and there was nothing I could do to save them. Well I could save a few and that is what I intended to do.

I needed to get home but I needed a few more days recovery before that could happen. I planned to use those days to understand each of these women and build a healthy bond. Mary worried me the most, she was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, extreme trauma and extended abuse. I needed to work on her first and daily. Mouse I just needed to talk to, talk to a lot and form an understanding. Banshee, well I had no clue. I could be stuck with that one unless I could figure something out. She was over there now making a new buckskin shirt for me and humming a happy song as she did so. I could see that she had already sewn red bead coup hashes on each sleeve. There were a lot of them.

I missed Michelle, the centuries of culture that separated me from these women was giving me brain cramps. I needed to talk with someone who could relate at least a little bit. I needed to take a walk.

I called Mouse over.

“I need a walking stick please”, I requested.

“Send Banshee to have a nice one made for me, pay the maker well.”

“I do not understand why you ask me make her do this”, was her startled reply.

“You are first wife. You speak English well. I need a good stick and it must be nice. Tell her now.” I applied force.

That girl paused and then quickly went to converse with Banshee. I could hear an escalation of voices so I loudly and firmly called “Banshee!”

She froze in mid-babble and looked at me. I pointed at the blanket on my floor in front of the bench and I’ll be damned if that woman wasn’t on her knees there in front of me in almost a heartbeat. She had an insolent look on her face, I simply glared at her and then called to Mary.

“Mary, bring me my switch please.”

Mary looked scared out of her mind but rushed over with that stupid switch in hand and dropped to her knees. I took the switch and shooed her away.

“Dress”, I said.

She didn’t move.

Thwack, Thwack on her calf.

The dress came off and the hands went up.

“Go with Mouse!”

Thwack, thwack, thwack on that cute little ass. Gentle strokes but that cheek was still red from yesterday.

She stuck her tongue out at me.

Thwack! A healthy stroke across her breasts. She shrieked, Mouse looked shocked and Mary sighed wistfully.

“Go!”

Banshee jumped up, kissed me on the cheek and skipped out the door pulling her tunic on as she went.

Christ on a mother fucking crutch what the hell with that woman? Perhaps Maquis de Sade was looking for an assistant and I could pawn her off on him? Strappings were definitely NOT going to become part of my Daily Chore List. Damn, ‘de Sade died a few years back didn’t he. Who else was into stuff like that?

And why was Mary on her knees in front of me? This could not be good.

“Yes Mary?”

“Please love me too”, she pleaded and put her arms behind her head. God those breasts were nice!