Chapter 3

Jill regained consciousness but was no longer home, the shock had been too great! She was in a daze, and wouldn’t, no, couldn’t respond to questions. I had to find someone to care for her, as well as a place to park my wagon. After taking pictures of several unusual hoof prints of the Indian ponies left in the mud of the stream as they left the canyon. I also made sketches of them, a split here or their, a damaged or scared frog on a couple more. (The frog is on the inside of the hoof and is flexible. It is actually part of the horse’s circulatory system. As it runs the frog pumps the blood back up the legs in order to help the heart supply fresh oxygenated blood to the legs.) They headed north once they cleared the canyon. I took Jill to Junction City, where I found a very nice older lady, well recommended by the Sheriff. She would take care of her until, or if, I returned. I established an account in her name and arranged for it to be funded until I canceled it. She also had a barn for my wagon. I went to the county courthouse and bought the property that contained the canyon along with one thousand acres. I also arranged for the taxes to be paid yearly. The next thing I did was to have a granite monument made with the girls names, death date, ages, and the cause of death in detail. I paid the man for the work including placing it on the gravesite. I told the Sheriff what I was going to do, then hugged Jill goodbye promising that I would return after I avenged her mother and siblings. It was a promise I intended to keep, if I didn’t I would be dead. Fully provisioned and with a camera, one box of plates, and a portable light shield. I left to pick up the trail.

I went about half way back to the canyon to the Southwest, then turned to the west. I cut their trail on the second day out. I counted twelve ponies, twelve to one odds, they didn’t have a chance! They weren’t even trying to hide their tracks, a day and a half later they joined up with what I thought was the old men, women and children of their tribe. I continued to follow them. They had been almost seven days ahead of me when I started, they didn’t gain any time on me, but I didn’t gain any on them until they joined up with their families. From then on I was gaining almost half a day on them every day. A week later I was just a couple of hours behind them. I went wide around them and found an ideal place to ambush them, it was on top of a bluff, steep on three sides, with plenty of natural cover, rocks, boulders, trees and bushes. Laying down well back in the bushes clearing away a field of fire, setting some traps on the likeliest places to try and attack me from the rear. Then I waited with the Spencer already set for windage and elevation. Being back under the bushes would diffuse the gunpowder smoke, a light wind would take it away behind me. The sound of the gunshot would take several seconds to reach them, the bullet itself would take just over two seconds, the sound about four and a half seconds and would probably echo around a little. My plan was to target the Chief and any warriors around him. I could fire four shots a minute, I layed out twenty rounds, five minutes worth, then I would leave, disabling my traps as I left. Then I would ride ahead an hour, and set up another ambush.

I watched through the scope as they came over a hill a little over a mile away, letting them come down the hill three quarters of the way. There was no cover for them, some sparse prairie grass about two feet tall, but no big rocks. I sighted in on the Chief, he was carrying a coup stick with three blonde scalps attached to it among many others. Double checking the focus, the elevation and windage I gently pulled the trigger and counted to four by saying one thousand one, one thousand two, then watched as the 52 caliber bullet hit him in the chest! It was way too quick of a death for him, but he was dead. I quickly reloaded saving the casing, aimed and shot again. I checked for runners and sneaky Pete’s trying to flank me or anything that looked like they had spotted my location, every five shots. I only got one double and missed twice so nineteen dead, the Chief, an old man that appeared to be a Medicineman, the rest warriors. Looking closer I couldn’t spot any more warriors. Old men, some teen aged warriors in training, women and some children. I also saw three slaves that might be white women. I had heard that many times rescued women would beg for someone to kill them, not able to live with the things visited upon them, rapes, sodomy, beatings, women of the tribe using them as lesbians, torture, forced to entertain the tribe with dogs. When their rescuers refused they often would steal a gun or a knife and do the deed themselves. After I stopped shooting, I watched to see what they would do, they gathered the dead and moved to a small stream and setup camp. That night I crept into their camp and took the scalps of the dead men. I also took the coup stick, I had to kill a sentry and two dogs to get into camp but I got what I needed, these I hid where they couldn’t be found.

The next morning at dawn I rode into their camp out of the rising sun, a light amount of ground fog created a glowing effect around me. I asked if anyone spoke the white man’s tongue, only a slave woman came forward. She was very dirty, I couldn’t tell if she was white. But she did a very good job of translating, at least I hoped she did. I told them exactly why I had done what I had. I told them through her that I would not rape any women and I would consider the debt paid in full. I was going to take with me any slave that wanted freedom and would provide for them as long as they wanted my help. All three slaves came with me. I took pictures of their dead to show Jill.

There was a good chance they wouldn’t make it through the winter, without leadership, a Medicineman, and hunters to provide meat. As cold of an attitude that is, they had a chance of survival, which was much more than Diane and her girls had had!

We took three horses and some blankets for them to sit on, and to wrap around themselves at night. We rode back to my mules, retrieved the scalps, wrapping them in a blanket, and rode toward the canyon. It took us eight days, when we arrived and shot pictures of the scalps as I had of the bodies. I dug down to the blanket I had covered the girls with and placed their scalps on it. The Indian scalps I placed in a large urn I had found, sealed it with beeswax, and buried it on the end where their feet were.

I’m not a religious man, not in the church going sense anyway. But I do believe in God! I said a prayer for my girls and told them that I had avenged them and that the scalps were at their feet! I don’t know if they heard me, I hope they did and would rest more peacefully in their long sleep, or in their version of heaven. I know I felt a lot better.

The girls that had been slaves consented to me taking their pictures before and after their bath, clothed and naked. I heated water in the large cast iron cauldron and we used the #5 washtub for them to bathe in. We had to empty and refill the tub for each woman. I dressed them in the dresses I had bought as a surprise for Diane and the girls on our shopping trip. I found some combs and hair brushes in what was left of the cabin, they felt much more like women when they finished. They definitely smelled better too.

That night around the fire each of them told their story;

My name is Betsy Warner, I’m sixteen years old, I was born in North Carolina on a small farm. In 1872 my Daddy sold the farm and we came west. It was a long journey, my Momma died in Arkansas, Daddy lost his drive after that! When we got to Southeast Kansas we split off from the wagon train and bought a small farm with bottom land. It was beautiful and with very fertile soil, my brother’s and I helped Daddy build a cabin and a barn. We set into a routine, just like the one we had back home. Everyone missed Mamma, Daddy finally came out of his funk. Then about two months ago the Indians came in the late afternoon, they killed my Daddy and my two brothers. The captured me, it was unimaginably horrible they held me over a fallen tree trunk and gang raped me for hours using whatever hole they found themselves in. They made me suck their filthy, nasty cocks, some covered in my blood from one of my other holes. They finally stopped after all of them had at least one go, some of them went twice and one did me in all three holes! I counted later, there were twelve of them. Luckily I was no longer a virgin, one of the reasons Daddy had gotten over his funk, was that he and my brothers had started fucking me, most nights all three of them had a turn. Some days one or another would take me into the barn for a midday howdy do. I may have been pregnant when the Indians started raping me, but I sure wasn’t when they finished!

When we met up with the rest of the tribe it got even worse! Those squaws were meaner and nastier than those braves ever thought of being. They made Hilda, Annie, and myself do all of the menial jobs, cleaning baby bottoms with our tongues, cleaning their bottoms and their pussies after they went to the bathroom, or during their monthlies. Sometimes they would make us do each other to entertain the whole tribe! That actually started to feel good occasionally! Those women would stick all kinds of things in our nether holes, corn cobs, corn ears with the kernels on, cattail heads, squash, cucumbers, and their warrior clubs, sometimes with just the women in a group, sometimes one on one, sometimes in front of the whole tribe. For a while there was another white woman with us, Olga, she was blonde and fairly large, not fat, just big. They would make us entertain the tribe by having the dogs lick us between the legs on and in our pussy and assholes, and have us return the favor. Then they would have the dogs fuck us in either hole. They would make bets on which of us would have to take the dog’s knot, in your pussy was bad, but in your asshole it was excruciating, it’s not meant to expand that big! They would make us lick the dogs spend from each other’s holes. Olga started liking having the dog do her too much, so they wanted to have her get fucked by a horse. They spread the juices of a mare in heat onto Olga’s pussy, then spread her open on a stump the stallion mounted her and was able to get the head inside her but it hurt her so bad she screamed, the horse panicked and drove forward driving his cock way to far into Olga! Something inside her tore, and she bled to death!

Another thing the squaws would do was to fist us, or make us do each other that way! Thankfully they would take their time stretching the pussy until they could drive their hand all the way inside our bodies! Sometimes they would have us do this in front of the entire tribe and place bets on which of us could take the arm deepest, or on how deep they could make it go. I’m going to miss doing some of those things!

Horrible, yet exciting at the same time! I asked her why she had to stop something if she enjoyed it. She looked at me incredulously as if I was daft!

My name is Annie Wilks, I’m fifteen years old. I was born in Pennsylvania, just like Betsy my family was uprooted by my Father wanting to go west, he sold the farm, bought a wagon and joined people on the trail going west. This was in 1872, like Betsy’s family. We joined a wagon train in St. Joseph, Missouri. The train was following the Santa Fe Trail, I don’t know where we were, one night I needed to go to the bathroom badly, we had been told to stay inside the wagon circle, especially at night. But this was an emergency. I felt like I was going to explode. I left the circle and found some bushes to take care of my problem. No sooner had I finished when hands grabbed me while stifling my scream with a rag over my mouth. I was dragged away, placed in front of an Indian on a horse, and then rode away. Miles later, they stopped, they stripped me of all my clothes. They then forced me down onto my knees, then by twisting my nipple and shoving a finger in my mouth, opened my mouth and one of them shoved his penis into my mouth! I had been giving my older brother knob jobs since I was fourteen, so I knew what to do! They all took turns at my mouth, forcing me to swallow their spend. I lost track of how many cocks I sucked, but later I too counted twelve braves. Then we mounted back up and rode some more. We joined the rest of the tribe, that night they used my body as entertainment by fucking me publicly. The Chief was first, he thrust into me, ripping my virginity from me in one thrust of his hips, his wives holding me. They laughed at my screams, violently twisting my nipples if I stopped. Then every male old enough to get a hard on took me. Once they finished in my pussy they moved to my head and made me eat my blood and juices from their cocks. If they hadn’t cum in my pussy they did in my mouth, I was then forced to swallow. Once all the men and boys had finished I was forced to service all of the women and girls of the camp, licking their pussies and assholes. I wasn’t allowed to spit, I had to swallow everything, more than one squaw took this opportunity to piss in my mouth! I had to swallow everything! As Betsy has already told you what other duties we had to perform I won’t repeat it. It was a horrific experience, but like Betsy I’ll miss doing some of those things?

Once again, she was going to miss doing some of the things they made her do! Why couldn’t she keep doing them?

My name is Hilda Johansson, I’m seventeen years old. I had been a slave for several years! At least three years, I was fourteen when I was taken. My family had come to the United States from Sweden, I was born here, in New York State. My father worked in a coal mine in Pennsylvania, my brothers joined him when they became old enough. I worked alongside my sisters and Mother in a textile mill when I turned ten years old. The mill caught fire one day, my sisters managed to get me and them out of the mill in time, our mother had left to run an errand for our Forman, she perished in the fire. I was then told that I had to do the chores of housekeeping while the others worked. I had turned fourteen just before the fire. I found out later that the housekeeper also was responsible for taking care of the rest of the family’s sexual needs, as well as cooking and cleaning. This included my father, my three older brothers, the wife of my oldest brother, my three sisters and our family pet, and hunting dog, a Rottweiler! My virginity was taken in a family celebration by my Pater, my sisters then took turns cleaning my pussy out after him and my brothers fucked me. I climaxed often during this celebration, and loved every second of getting fucked and eaten out. I enjoyed eating my family’s pussies and cocks! We held another celebration, where my anal virginity was taken by my older brother, his wife sucked, fingered, and used her tongue to gather and eat her husband’s sperm from my asshole. The rest of my brothers and my Father had their turn, with my sisters cleaning me up after each fuck of my asshole. I was in heaven! I would come so hard I squirted! It was decided that I should service the dog also. Another family celebration was held where the dog covered me. He took me in all three holes, I had to clean him up between each fuck. I then polished the knobs of all the men, and boys, my younger brother was fourteen. Then I ate out all of the girls, they all took turns eating each other and me. It was wonderful. But we fell on hard times and the family needed money, I was sold to a brothel that was going west, the owner didn’t want to spend the money on joining a wagon train. I’m sure wagon train masters wouldn’t have let him join anyway, or at least the wives of other wagons wouldn’t. Regardless we were traveling alone, two wagons with fourteen women, two drivers and four guards, that stayed drunk most of the time and flat, worn out from sampling the product, the women. Our owner and his companion, a fourteen year old boy.

The Indians jumped us the morning of June 20, 1871, they killed all the men quickly, except the boss and his boy, they literally fucked them to death. They did the same to most of the girls over the next week. The dogs got some of them, it wasn’t pretty to watch! The five of us left were the best at giving oral satisfaction. Even then some more perished, one choked to death when the brave wouldn’t remove his oversized cock from her throat, another died by drowning on several loads of sperm unable to swallow the thick load. One died getting fucked by a horse the same way as Olga did except she didn’t scream, someone slapped the horse on the butt as it thrust forward. That left me and another girl, she hung herself a year ago.

I learned the language that made me too valuable to let die, so it’s been less dangerous for me the last year or so, still I had to service male and females. But I actually do enjoy doing that. I have watched at least fifty women and girls be captured and die from the abuse or by their own hand! I too will miss some of the things they made us do.

“Ladies, why have each of you stated that you will miss some of the things that they made you do? Why not continue to do them if it makes you happy?” They looked at me in surprise, and wonderment, that I would suggest they should continue to do things that are abhorrent in society!

“How could we do these things? We would be burned at a stake for some of the debauchery we might enjoy!”

“Ladies look around you! I own this canyon, and one thousand acres around it! I’m very wealthy and I’m a photographer. I have thousands of photographs of naked women doing all kinds of sex acts. If you let me photograph you naked and doing what you like to do, only we will know! If I sell your photos, I’ll hide your faces and no one will know who the photos are of! I once photographed the Mayor of Philadelphia’s wife and daughter in a sapphic love making session that sold thousands of copies, some to the Mayor himself. No one ever knew who they were pictures of. You can stay here or travel with me as I plan on going farther west while taking photographs of my journey. Think about it! Tomorrow we are going to Junction City to pick up some things!”

We went to bed after having supper, we had a grand time sucking one another, I fucked all three of them, they were some of the most fun and completely uninhibited women I have ever met. They would try anything! They all agreed to stay with me at least for a while. They were all beautiful with breasts from A to D’s on Hilda.

We left for Junction City the next morning, arriving in the afternoon two days later. I got us rooms at the Hotel all adjoining one another. I went to the older ladies house to check on Jill. She was a little better, she seemed to recognize me. I told both of them what I had done and arranged for them to meet the ladies I had rescued and have supper together. I went out to the barn and developed the pictures I had taken, after drying them I put the unexposed into another box and brought the box with the Indian chase pictures with me.

We all met at the restaurant in the Hotel, afterwards we went up to my room where I showed Jill the pictures of the dead Indians and their scalps! As soon as she registered just what she was looking at, she screamed, and screamed! I held on to her and comforted her, hugging and kissing her, telling her that I loved her! Once she was calmed down, I looked into her eyes. She was back, my Jill was back! We all gave her hugs and kisses. I reintroduced everyone to her. She had vague recollections about everyone. I went over everything she had missed. I also told her about the monument I had ordered and that I buried the scalps at their feet. She loved it all!

I got down on my knees and told her that I loved her and then asked her to marry me! She told me she loved me, but she couldn’t marry me until she could collect herself and get a better understanding of who she was and where she was going. I had asked her too soon. Timing is everything. She wanted to stay with Gladys, the older lady. I was fine with that.

Over the next few days I found an Architect and outlined what I wanted in a house, barns and other outbuildings in the Canyon. I named my ranch Ecstasy Ranch! I bought another one thousand acres! I hired some ranch hands and a foreman. I commissioned a stone wall built across the entrance of the canyon with a wrought iron gate and a stream guard across the stream. I included a gate house made from the same stone with gun ports and a tower. The house was also to be designed like a castle.

Hilda, Annie, Betsy, and I left for the canyon after breakfast the next morning. We had decided to spend the winter there and had hired a group of guys to come out and build a replacement cabin and barn, materials were ordered to be delivered by the end of the week! The root cellar had not been damaged, the meat in the smoke house was still there, the other staples were ordered. The materials I had bought on that fateful trip just before the Indian attack were still in the wagon. The carpenters figured on completing everything in two weeks, weather permitting.

The weather did cooperate and other than colder temperatures we could do all kinds of outdoor activities. One thing we did was to find some dogs. A Rottweiler, a German Shepard, and a Collie, training would begin immediately.

I went back to Junction City and ordered another Pot Belly cast iron stove with all the chimney pipe I needed for the barn. Part of the barn was going to be my studio. I also picked some bed frames and mattresses, and I ordered a really large bed, custom made.

The house was finished on time, so we moved in. The custom made bed came in along with sheets and blankets made to order. It was great and we all fit on it comfortably. We had a great Thanksgiving, Jill and Gladys came out. I shot two turkeys and we had ham. After eating we sat together telling stories, getting to know Gladys better. She told us her story.

My name is Gladys Turner, my maiden name is Wheeler. I’m thirty five years old. I grew up in Illinois in a small town south of Chicago, named Kankakee.

I stopped her there, “Did you know the Grayson’s, Hannah Grayson in particular?”

“Yes I knew Hannah, how do you know her?” Gladys asked.

“She was my wife, when she was murdered! I loved her very much!”

“Then you really need to hear my story, I was her governess when she was growing up. I loved her very much too!

My name is Gladys Wilson née Brown, I was born and raised in Kankakee, Illinois. When I was sixteen a man named William Wilson approached my father and arranged for me to become married to him. Money exchanged hands and the deal was struck. I hadn’t laid eyes on him until the wedding. That night my new husband brutally raped me several times, I became pregnant that night. Nine months later I gave birth to a boy who was born with the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck. He strangled on his way out of my womb. Mr. Wilson cursed me, then sold me to Mr. Grayson. His wife had died in childbirth delivering a baby girl they named Hannah. I was her wet nurse, and she was my surrogate baby. Later on I was called her Governess, in fact I was her mother! I was also the house whore, Mr. Grayson, and later his son Jason, would fuck me anytime they felt like it, in any hole they wanted. Quite often they would use my mouth. Jason started using me as soon as his dick could get hard at twelve years of age. When Hannah was fourteen her father and brother began raping her. She would come to me crying and we would comfort each other, eventually that comfort took the form of sapphic love. That went on for over two years before Mr. Grayson found us engaged in a 69 position eating each other’s pussies. He flew into a rage and sent her to a finishing school in Philadelphia. I was flogged then dumped beside the road at the far corner of his property, almost dead. A tinker found me and nursed me back to health. His last name was Wilson. I stayed with him until a year ago when we came to Junction City. Just outside of town a man tried to rob us, Jeb raised his shotgun and fired just as the robber fired. They both died. I knew where all of Jeb’s money was hidden. With that and the sale of his wares and the wagon along with his two mules I had enough to buy a small house and rent rooms. This allowed me to live comfortably, though not extravagantly. Taking care of Gladys has been a pleasure and a boon, we love each other!

She also related that their relationship had become public knowledge and the repercussions were beginning to affect them both. The church barred them from entering, the grocer wouldn’t sell to them anymore. I asked them to stay here on the ranch and they accepted.

I related what I had done to that Grayson bastard, and that he was now dead. I also told her what had happened to Jason. She was happy to hear both stories and felt that the world was a better place without them in it.

I spent the winter here, my house and outbuildings were completed on time and before the onslaught of winter. We all, including Jill and Gladys engaged in sex as often as anyone wanted. That was almost daily! The winter was harsh, the canyon filled with huge drifts of snow, but we were snug inside our castle. On good days I would take photographs of the winter landscape. But with all of the beautiful girls around they loved to pose however I wanted them. The three dogs were well trained and everyone was well entertained, including the ranch foreman, a man named Amos Johnson, and his two helpers Billy, and Jimmy.

I waited until spring before sending Amos and his helpers south to bring a herd of a thousand head of longhorn cattle up from South Texas. Luckily, he found a herd just south of Dallas that he bought and hired some of the drovers to help bring them up to the ranch. I stayed at the ranch, fixing fences and having four wind powered water wells put in to keep their big one thousand gallon tanks filled with water. My ranch had the first and largest fenced area in the country. My land was completely fenced in, then it was quartered with a water well in each one. The cattle would be frequently moved to prevent overgrazing.

When I was satisfied, I went in my wagon into Junction City and bought out the grocer. I then refused to sell anything to anyone going to the Church that had barred Jill and Gladys from attending. I went to the church that Sunday and explained my position, demanding a letter of apology signed by every parishioner and that the reverend in charge be fired. It took two Sundays but my conditions were met. I hired a store keeper out of Kansas City, once he and his family arrived I instructed him to sell to everyone regardless of race, creed, color, religion, or sexuality! And that I would be checking to make sure that he did.

The girls decided to stay at the canyon and I decided to continue my journey, so I loaded up on supplies and went back to the ranch only to say “Adios!” I left the next day after a veritable orgy of naked women flesh and pleasure. It was sad to leave but I felt I had to continue my westward travel.

Sam, Bert, Ernie, and myself left the canyon early in the morning of April 18, 1874. We traveled to the south cross country until intersecting the Chisom trail, then I turned to follow it to Wichita, located on the Arkansas river.

Mid morning of the second day from the canyon, I spotted smoke to the north of my travel. The old saying “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.” is particularly important on the prairie. For thousands of years, bison, known erroneously as buffalo, have traveled north and south over these same plains. Fire, caused mostly by lightning strikes, could and did run for miles, stopping only at rivers, or getting rained on. These fires kept trees from growing except next to the rivers or streams. The grass had adapted to the fire, and would sprout soon after the fire had passed. So any fire was cause for concern. I turned my wagon toward the smoke.

It was over two hours later that I crested a hill and looked down at the source of the smoke. A sod house, barn, and shed were smoldering, and in ruin. A couple of bodies lay not far from the house, three arrows sticking in one of them. Sod houses don’t burn very well. The door and its frame had burned, as well as the shutters on the two front windows. As with many sod houses, this one was built into the hill. The walls were about two feet thick and eight feet high. Wood is rare here, so most, if not all, of the wood had to have been brought by wagon.

After arriving, I found the body holding the arrows was a man, the other was a woman, presumably the wife. Both appeared to be in their late thirties or early forties in age. The woman was naked and was tied over a flower barrel, stakes driven in the ground three feet apart held her wrists, her ankles were similarly tied with rope even wider apart. It was very obvious that she had been raped repeatedly, not that long ago either. Cum still dripped from her pussy and her asshole, both of which were bloody. Her mouth had also been used, her throat was cut which was a blessing I suppose. Both had been scalped. She had been a nice looking woman, a blonde, and tall, most likely Scandinavian. She had been dragged from the house after her husband had been killed. It was not a pleasant way to die.

I poked around the inside of the house and found some dresses that couldn’t have fit the woman. That had to mean that there was at least one girl in the family. There wasn’t a third body, so either she had been taken or she was in a hide. Most frontier farms and ranches built hides or hideouts that children would run to if the family was attacked. This attack had happened early this morning, it happened silently. It looked as if the man was coming back from the barn when the arrows, possibly all three at the same time, hit him. Perhaps the hide is inside the house, the girl could get in it without being seen.