Chapter 4

Molly woke, shivering.

There was a horse blanket draped over her upper torso, which helped, but her legs were cold and her feet leaden. The fire had died down, and the two logs smoked, above red embers. She levered herself up on one elbow and looked around. The boy was right beside her, covered with another horse blanket. She was between him and the fire. ‘He must be freezing, ‘ she thought, but his breath came softly and steadily from under his hat. She reached out and threw several sticks of wood on the embers, piling them up. They started smoking immediately and burst into flames as she lay back down and pulled the blanket up to her chin.

She lay there, uncomfortable. She should have emptied her bladder, but she’d been too stubborn to go off in the dark. Groaning she sat back up. When she got to her feet she stumbled. She couldn’t feel anything in them as her boots scraped across the ground. The boy moved, rolling toward the fire a little, but didn’t seem to wake.

She only went ten feet, and felt the cold air on her pale buttocks as she dropped her jeans to squat, leaning back on a rock. Her urine splashed and hissed so loudly she was sure the boy would wake up, but he didn’t move. She sighed as the pressure vanished inside her. She was so cold she didn’t want to wait for things to drip dry and she stood, quickly pulling her pants back up. She wrapped her horse blanket around her shoulders and walked around a little until she could feel her feet again. Then she sat with her boots close to the fire, until she saw the soles smoking. She put more wood on the blaze and felt welcome heat bathe her.

What was she doing out here in the wilderness, alone with this strange boy? Her thoughts went to Sarah. Was she freezing too? She looked up at the stars. The moon was setting. What time of the month was it? How long was it until dawn? She looked at Bobby again. He could have taken his sheep and just gone home. Why did he care what had happened to her daughter? He obviously did, though, and was going to some lengths to help her. Would she have done that if his sister was missing? Did he even have a sister?

Eventually Molly lay back down. This time she lay on the outside, so the boy could get some heat. She lay down close to him, and could feel his body heat. She draped her blanket over their legs and feet and then lifted his blanket, and snuggled in close to him, pressing her breasts against his back. It felt odd to be so close to a strange man, but it was warmer.

It was the least she could do for this strange boy who cared about a girl he’d never met ... and for the feelings of that girl’s mother.

It was past midnight when Jonas and his men got back to the ranch. The three of them made enough noise though that Frank was up and awake when their weary feet hit the planks of the back porch and they entered the house. Frank expected to hear news. What he heard instead was his father’s terse question, “Are your mother and sister back?”

“I thought you went to get them,” said Frank, getting even more anxious.

Jonas was tired, and he knew they were at the end of their strength for the day. He gave Frank only the minimal information that it appeared that the sheepherder’s boy and Frank’s mother had either found Sarah, or had followed after her and two of the Rocklin men.

“We’ve got to go find them!” cried Frank.

“We’re worn out, boy,” said his father heavily. “And we don’t even know where to look.”

“But that man - the sheep herder - he has to know which way they went,” objected Frank.

“He says he doesn’t know, and anyway, we don’t need the help of any sheep-lover to take care of our business,” retorted Jonas.

“But...” started Frank.

“Go back to bed!” ordered his father. “We’ll decide what to do in the morning. Do as I say, boy!”

The men began dragging off their clothing, getting ready to get the sleep Jonas had just ordered. Frank went back to his room, but he didn’t go back to bed. He couldn’t stand the thought that his sister and mother were out in the dark somewhere, maybe hurt, and that no one cared enough to go after them.

It was a typical reaction in a fifteen year old boy who felt like the adults around him didn’t appreciate his skills and talents. He had no idea what the men had gone through already that day, or the details of what they’d found. It was fixed in his mind that the sheepherder knew where to find his missing relatives, and he intended to get that information out of the man, one way or the other. And if he could help, then it was foolish not to accept that help.

He dressed quietly, putting on his heavy jacket, with the gloves in the pocket, and then waited until he was sure the others were asleep.

Knowing the floor boards would squeak, he climbed out the window of his room. Then, saddling his horse, and with his cherished pearl handled revolvers strapped on, he walked the horse far enough away from the house that he could mount and ride without making noise that would wake anyone.

He was sure he could find the old Johansen place in the dark.

Sarah woke again. This time, while the pain in her wrists and shoulders was just as bad, her head felt a little clearer. She realized she didn’t smell the burlap bag any more, and opened her eyes.

It was dark, and cold. A small fire flickered ten or so feet away. She was lying on her side, with her hands bound in front of her. She tried to move and couldn’t stifle a groan of pain. Her whole body hurt.

“Oh, little miss cow girl is awake, is she?” came Buford’s voice.

Sarah turned her head to see Buford bent over, pulling things out of her saddle bags.

She tried to speak, but her throat was so dry she couldn’t make words come out. She swallowed and got some saliva in her mouth.

“Leave that alone,” she said weakly, her voice cracking. “Those are my things.”

“You ain’t the one giving orders here missy,” said Buford more or less pleasantly. “What’s this here?”

He pulled the paper-wrapped package that contained her new dress out of the leather pouch. Tearing it open he shook out the dress.

“Now ain’t that purty?” he said. “I bet you’d be a lot better lookin’ with this on.” He held out the dress toward her. “Course we’re gonna have to get you all nekkid to put it on you,” he leered.

“You’re a dead man,” Sarah spat.

Buford let his hand fall, and the hem of the dress puddled on the ground. He looked himself up and down.

“I ain’t nowheres near dead.” His eyes glinted in the dim light as he looked at her. “And I’m gonna prove that to you right soon now. But first I want to see you in this purty little dress.”

“You go to hell,” said Sarah.

Buford unbuckled his gun belt and dropped it to the ground. Then he walked over to her, dragging her new dress in the dirt. He casually leaned over and slapped her face hard enough that her head bounced off the ground. His handprint would remain on her face for over a week.

Sarah cried out and rolled. His foot came down on her stomach hard, pinning her on her back. He reached out and grasped her brother’s old shirt, pulling, and the old, worn cloth ripped easily in his hands.

Sarah tried to fend him off with her hands, but she had been tied over the rump of a horse, with her wrists roped to her ankles. Her shoulders wouldn’t work right and she cried out at the pain.

Buford pulled a knife from a sheath on his belt and pressed the tip right between her now-naked breasts.

“You fight me and I’ll carve you up like a turkey on Thanksgiving,” he snarled. “You’re gonna put this here dress on.” He dragged the tip of the knife down off her ribcage, to her belly, until the blade went between her wrists and came in contact with the rope still binding them. He gave a savage flick and the rope parted. The tip of the knife was too dull to penetrate her skin, but the cutting edge was razor sharp.

Sarah’s arms fell limply to her sides as her shoulders refused to support them. She lay, her naked breasts heaving, pale in the dim light of the small fire.

Chaps appeared in the dark. “What are you doin’ Buford. We’re in enough trouble already. Don’t you go hurting that girl.”

Buford didn’t turn his head, but it was obvious his words were for Chaps.

“You just shut your yap. I told you I’m gonna get me some pussy. If you had a brain in your head you’d be standing in line.”

“It ain’t right Buford” whined Chaps.

Now Buford did stand and turn to face Chaps. The knife glinted in his hand.

“You get in my way Chaps and I’ll gut you. You hear me? If you got no stomach for prime pussy, you just go off and jerk yourself off or something. But don’t mess with me Chaps, or I’ll kill you dead.”

Chaps held up his hands, trying to sooth the angry man, and took a step back. He didn’t feel like turning his back on Buford just then, and stood quietly. Buford turned back around to Sarah, who had been trying to get her arms to work. Her vision was fuzzy. The pain was still severe, but she could move her lower arms a little. She’d managed to get her numb hands up to cover her breasts. Buford leaned down and grabbed a tender wrist, pulling her to a sitting position. Her shoulder shrieked at her. Her head swam, and she almost fainted, her upper body lolling back and twisting as it tried to fall back to the ground.

With a muttered curse Buford let her go and knelt beside her limp body.

His knife made short work of the jeans she was wearing as the cut them off in strips and pulled them away from her body. He ripped at her shirt again too, cutting off her what she wasn’t lying on.

He stood back up and gazed at her youthful nakedness. He kicked her ankles apart and stared at the fluff of hair that stuck up into the dim light.

“I changed my mind,” he growled, kicking her new dress to one side. “I don’t care about the dress no more.”

He worked at his own jeans, pushing them down to reveal his erect phallus. He stroked it a couple of times and stepped between her legs without taking his pants off. He got to all fours and, supporting himself with one arm, reached to hold his stiff dick and nose it into the dark area that he knew contained the opening he sought.

Sarah moaned and raised her hands again, only to have them slapped away by the hand that had been down by her crotch. She felt pressure in a place she had never felt pressure before.

“I’m gonna like this,” leered Buford. “I can tell already.”

He was enjoying the feel of being at her portals, and began to push.

She was dry, and he couldn’t force himself in her. He rearranged his knees to try lunging.

Suddenly there was a soft hissing noise and a thump, followed by a gasp from Chaps.

Buford paused to turn his head. Chaps was standing there, eyes wide, an arrow magically sprouting from dead in the middle of his chest. With a sigh, Chaps collapsed in a boneless heap beside the fire.

Buford reacted instantly. Forgetting the girl, he rolled sideways into the dark, pulling at his pants to get them back up. He lost the knife in the process, but didn’t care. He’d taken off his gun belt so he could get his pants down, and so the girl couldn’t try to grab for a gun, and it was lying on the ground not far from the fire. Seeing the girl’s dress, he dashed into the light, snatching up the dress and throwing it on top of the fire to blank out the light. He kept running, leaning over to grab at his gun belt. He pulled at the pistol frantically while he ran toward the horses. He saw the horses, and a figure standing between them, a hand on each bridle. Part of his brain cursed the animals for not having given them any warning about strangers being about.

Buford brought his pistol up and pulled the trigger. The pistol wasn’t cocked and he swore as his thumb scrabbled at it. The muzzle flash as he fired lit up the Indian that was guarding the horses, and he saw the man jerk and fall backward. The horses bolted, one to each side, but Buford had expected that, and he veered left. He didn’t know which horse he was going for, but he didn’t care. Grabbing the reins, he pulled the horse, running until he was away from where he had shot. The horses had been on the high side of the little meadow they’d stopped in, and he ran upward. He’d left the horses saddled on purpose, something that wasn’t good for them, but he was nervous about pursuit, even though he didn’t admit it to Chaps. Now he was glad he hadn’t pulled the saddles off of them. When he thought it was safe, he vaulted up onto the horse. He could tell by the saddle that it was Chaps’ horse, but then Chaps didn’t need it any more ... did he?

He rode hard into the dark, hoping the horse wouldn’t stumble.

Water Man, as he was called by his tribe, walked into the light of the fire. Sees Long Distance followed, his bow still in his hand. He had fired the arrow that had killed one of the two men abusing the woman.

Both had heard the other man shoot, and the sounds of a horse being taken from where Little Pine should have been guarding them.

Water Man looked around. He paid no attention to the naked white woman.

She was no threat. He hoped, against hope, that Little Pine would walk into the light. If Little Pine had been killed, there would be trouble in the tribe. The old ways were dying out, and when Water Man had wanted to take the two young men on a vision quest, the elders had argued. But both young men had been eager to prove themselves, and a vision quest was the only way to do that any more. In the past there could be honor gained in honest battle, but the white eyes had ruined all that. Now if natural enemies fought, the white man would come and kill indiscriminately. Often they killed women, and the young. Most white men had no honor.

Just as these two men had no honor.

No civilized person treated a woman like this. Water Man and the two young braves, flitting through the trees, had watched the men for a whole day. Little Pine had been careless, and should have been seen, but the two white men had been oblivious. The men treated this woman badly, never feeding her, or giving her water. They tied her to a horse like baggage, instead of letting her sit. Why didn’t they just make her walk? Why must they cause her such pain? Then, when it became clear that the men intended rape, Sees Long Distance couldn’t take it any more. He had not asked if he could attack. He had simply pulled an arrow from his quiver, nocked it and let fly in a moment of passion.

Water Man frowned. Had he known what Sees Long Distance was going to do he would have been ready to take care of the other one. Now, perhaps, Little Pine was dead, and the elders would be very unhappy. He walked toward where he was afraid he would find Little Pine’s body.

Little pine’s body was there, but it was not dead. He sat, holding one hand to his head. His face was stained dark, and Water Man knew that must be blood. Silently he pulled Little Pine’s hand away and saw a shallow crease on the side of his head, where the bullet had skimmed the skin. Water Man heaved a sigh of relief.

“He was just there!” complained Little Pine. “The horse blocked my vision.”

“Just as the horse blocked his shot?” chided Water Man.

He pulled the young man to his feet and back into the light. Sees Long Distance was standing over the white woman. No, she was only a girl.

Water Man could see that now. Still, he knew what was going through Sees Long Distance’s mind.

“I think our quest is over,” said Water Man.

Sees Long Distance turned his head. “She is mine. I claim her as my right of conquest.”

“What do you want her for?” asked Water Man. “She is skinny and white.

She will only be trouble.”

“I have no woman yet,” said Sees Long Distance simply. “It is tradition to keep women taken in battle.”

“The white eyes do not let us do that any longer,” said Water Man, unhappy that he had to say so.

“She is mine,” said Sees Long Distance stubbornly.

“Then you are responsible for her,” said Water man with a sigh. This would cause trouble too, but maybe, given the chance to think about it, Sees Long Distance would realize that and let the girl go.

Little Pine was unhappy. He had been shamed by the white man, and now Sees Long Distance was able to claim a woman. “The horse is mine then,” he said. “I claim the horse.”

Water Man looked up at the dark sky, sighing. Young men were so impetuous.

“The white men brand their horses,” he said. “If you are found with a branded horse, they will think you stole it.”

“Then I will eat the horse, and the brand will be no more,” said Little Pine, just as stubbornly as his young friend.

“I need the horse for my woman,” said Sees Long Distance.

“What do you have to trade?” asked Little Pine.

Water Man groaned as the two young men argued. He stood over the girl and examined her. She was indeed skinny, in his opinion, but her milk bags were large and firm, and would serve little ones well.

She looked dead to him, so pale was her skin, but he saw she breathed.

He felt his own loins tingle as he looked at the impossibly light colored hair that rimmed her sex. Feeling his own reaction to the naked white girl Water Man sighed again. Yes, she would cause trouble.

He listened as Little Pine demanded to be allowed to lie with the woman in exchange for letting her use the horse. Sees Long Distance finally had to agree. It would tire his mount too quickly if he had to ride double. Then they haggled over how many times Little Pine would be allowed to mate with the girl. Sees Long Distance insisted that he must be the first to get her with child. Finally they came to an agreement that Sees Long Distance would have her for one moon, and then Little Pine could mate with her.

The girl had covered her milk bags again, and she looked up at him from the ground through half closed eyes that glittering in the firelight.

He offered her his hand, but she lay limply and licked her lips.

Little Pine went to get his new horse, while Sees Long Distance came to them. The girl’s eyes opened wider now and she spoke the white man’s language. Water man knew a little of that talk, but ignored her. They needed to be moving. Someone might have heard the shot the other man fired.

Little Pine bent down and got the shivering and obviously frightened girl to her feet. She was babbling, about being taken home. Two of them couldn’t understand her. The other didn’t want to talk. Water Man went through the saddle bags on the Little Pine’s new horse but found nothing for her to wear. He cut the strap holding the saddle onto the horse and tipped the saddle to the ground. He took the blanket and threw it at the girl, who wrapped it around her, still babbling. She would just have to be tough as they rode to get away from here. He was tired of young people making trouble, and just wanted to get back home.