Chapter 4

Raven Feather

En route, April 1861

It was a sunny spring day, and they made over twenty miles, in spite of the late start. The animals were rested, and the trail was easy. They made camp in a narrow gorge, a half mile away from the trail, where their fire would not be seen far. They made a small, Indian fire, and huddled around it in the blankets for the night.

Rose woke from her exhausted sleep when she heard a squeal. She smiled when she heard Mandy's giggle and Ned's chuckle. Then, Mandy gasped audibly, and her excited whisper carried farther than she intended.

"What's that? You don't mean to stick this into me?"

Rose couldn't hear Ned's reply, but she heard Mandy's sharp intake of breath a minute later. A low moan followed, and soon, the sounds of coupling were loud enough to wake Jim, too.

In the near darkness, Rose could see his open eyes. Mandy's moans became louder, and it she seemed unable to restrain herself. It all ended with a suppressed groan from Ned and a long moan from Mandy.

With silence restored, Rose cuddled against Jim again. She gasped. His erection pressed into her backside. She turned and whispered into his ear.

"I'll take care of you."

With a surety born of experience, Rose opened the buttons of the 'union suit' Jim wore. His organ felt hot in her hands, and it pulsed. Rose felt a rush of excitement herself, and for a moment, she contemplated opening her legs for him. The thought of tomorrow's ride made her reconsider. Jim's organ was rather big, and she hadn't had a man in her in over two months. The thought of being sore around her pussy and riding thirty miles the next day was too much.

"Turn away from me!" she whispered.

From behind, Rose gripped the penis with her left hand and started to stroke it slowly. The throbbing increased, and Jim's breath caught a few times. He would not take long, she thought. She scooted higher along his back and brought her mouth to his ear.

"When we're settled, you can stick that thing into me," she whispered into his ear. "Do you want to do that?"

He nodded, unable to speak.

"I'll even take it into my mouth. I like that. I'll suck you dry. I'll make you see the stars, just you wait!"

He was fighting for control, she noticed and grinned. No such luck, she thought wickedly. Her tongue snaked out and into his ear, worming its way in, and Jim shuddered. His semen shot forth while Rose held his penis and aimed it away from their blankets.

It took a while for his breath to return to normal. He turned around to face Rose again and took her face in both hands. His kiss burned on her lips, and she felt light headed when he released her. When his arms pulled her close, she snuggled against him. Her last thought, before she fell asleep, was that maybe, maybe, this whole mess in Independence had been a blessing in disguise.

They woke from the cold of the morning that crept under their blankets. The sky in the east was lighting up, and Jim started their fire. Wrapped in her blanket, Rose sat close to it while, from the sound of it, Jim watered the bushes behind a boulder. He then took his rifle and walked the half mile to the trail. Rose looked up in alarm when he came back running.

"Quick! Everybody up and get dressed! There was somebody on the trail, behind us. They passed us in the dark."

Ned was up in a second. They all dressed in a hurry while Jim stamped out the fire. While they hurried to break camp, Jim climbed up on the ridge that lined the gorge. He looked grave when he returned.

"They're camped a mile south of here. From the tracks, I counted four horses. They have a fire going. We're lucky. With the wind blowing into the gorge, they couldn't smell our fire."

"Reckon, we'll have a look at them?" Ned asked. "It sure looks fishy that they kept riding in the dark. You think they're after us?"

"Maybe so," Jim answered. "We can circle them. If we ride up the gorge a ways, there's another narrow valley that seems to lead to their camp. I reckon, we takes the horses and mules to where the two gorges meet. If there is rocky ground, we'll leave them at the fork and walk the rest of the way."

Within five minutes, they were on their way. It was getting light, and walking along the tiny creek was easy. They reached the valley fork after half an hour and hobbled the horses and mules. They all checked their weapons before they marched down the other valley. It was a little wider than the gorge were they had camped, and there was more grass and bushes. They could already smell the fire of the other camp. Ned and Jim talked briefly, and they split up. Ned and the women stayed behind a little, while Jim scouted ahead.

Rose was impressed by the stealth Jim displayed. Although she knew him to walk in front of them, she sometimes lost sight of him as he darted between the bushes. From time to time, he gave signal for them to follow.

They were approaching a bend in the valley, and by Rose's reckoning, they had to be close to the other camp. The smell of smoke was strong now. Jim signaled them to wait, and Rose saw that he went down on his hands and knees to creep forward. He was gone for almost ten minutes. When he reappeared, he made a beeline for them.

"Three men, and they're bushwhackers for sure. They have two captives, a white man and a squaw. The man is bound to a tree and seems hardly alive. The squaw is bound over a fallen tree. I reckon, they've been using her badly. She's naked and bleeding, and in this cold."

"They're sleeping?" Ned asked, a glitter in his eyes.

"Two of them are. The third is keeping watch at the trail. I reckon they know that they passed us in the dark, and they wait for us. If I plug the fellow who's keeping watch, can you take care of the sleepers?"

"Yeah, you're the best shooter. Listen up, girls! These fellers are up to no good. Prolly been a-followin' us to get their paws on you girls. We'll go in there, and soon as Jim plugs the sentry, you and me are going to shoot the sleepers. They've been a-rapin' that squaw, so don't be squeamish, savvy?"

While Mandy was clearly apprehensive, Rose nodded grimly. Just hearing that the men had raped a woman, even a squaw, made Rose's blood boil, and she pulled her Navy Colt to examine the seat of the caps one more time.

All four of them moved forward and around the bend. They crouched low, seeking shelter in the undergrowth, and proceeded cautiously. Rose saw the woman first, her face bruised and swollen, and her nearly naked body hanging limply over the fallen tree.

Ned pointed at the right hand sleeper and at his chest. Then he pointed at the other, and at Rose. She understood and raised her Colt. Suddenly, the naked woman opened her eyes and looked straight at Rose, giving her a grim nod.

Meanwhile, Jim rested the barrel of his long Enfield Rifle on a branch. With its 39 inch barrel, it was accurate at over 300 yards, and its .55 inch lead bullet could fell a bison. Rose saw the mist rise from Jim's nose as he exhaled, and next, the stillness of the morning was torn by the sharp report of the long rifle. The post at the trail was thrown on his back by the impact, just as the two sleepers sat upright, cursing. Very coolly, Rose fired three shots into the left man. At ten yards, all three shots were hits, and the man slumped back. Ned's first shot missed, but the other two hit the man, one in the chest, and one in the face. It was over.

Jim had run over to the post to examine him. He returned, dragging the dead man by his collar, and dumped him close to the fire.

Meanwhile, Ned had made sure the other two were dead. That done, he cut the bound man from the tree. The stiff body fell over to the ground, and Rose realized that he was dead, too.

Together with Mandy, she cut the straps that held the squaw, and they helped her stand. From the way she walked, Rose already knew that she had been abused badly. She shivered uncontrollably in the cold morning air. Ned hurried to build up the fire while Mandy collected a few blankets in which they wrapped the poor woman.

She was quite young, Rose thought, not more than eighteen years. She had to have a look at her wounds, and she needed warm water, to wash off the grime and other residue from the abuse. She rummaged through the camp site until she found an iron pot. She filled it with water at the small creek and put it over the fire.

Jim had walked around the site, to look for tracks, but had found none. The men conferred briefly, and then, Ned went to bring the animals.

Jim knelt before the young Indian woman.

"Can you understand me? I am Jim. What is your name?"

He spoke slowly, pronouncing each word carefully. The young squaw made a face.

"I understand you. My name is Raven Feather. Walter was my man."

She nodded at the dead man they had found, tied to the tree.

"We were traveling south, from Fort Laramie, when these men ambushed us. They bound us, and two of them took me. They beat me all the time, calling me a dirty squaw whore, and they beat up Walter, for being with me.

"They saw you on the trail from a distance and followed you. Walter and I were bound to one horse, and we could not catch up with you. They pushed on in the dark, but then they noticed that we must have passed you in the dark. They made camp here, and bound us to the trees. They took me and beat me again, and the third man beat and fucked Walter. When he was done, he rammed a stick into Walter, from behind. I think Walter died only a little while after that."

"Why did they do all that? Why did they follow us?" Jim asked.

"They saw you had two women with you, real women, they said."

"Did they hurt you badly, down there?" Rose asked, pointing at the woman's crotch.

"It hurt, but the beating was worse. The third of the men tried to stick his thing into my behind, but he could not get it hard. That's why he went after Walter. I think, he was dei'a."

The Shoshone word, meaning 'female friend', was used to describe a 'man who lives like a woman'.

"Are you Shoshone?" Jim asked.

"I am Oglala, but I cannot go back. I lived with a white man; I am dead to them."

Rose tested the water in the pot and found it warm on the brink of hot. She took the pot off the fire.

"May I call you Raven?" she asked, and the young woman nodded.

"Raven, I have warm water here. I want to clean you, to see where you are injured. Will you allow me to?"

Raven Feather nodded and gritted her teeth when Rose took a wet cloth to wipe off the young woman's face. Her right eye was swollen shut, and under her bronze skin, large bruises showed. She flinched when Rose wiped over a cut over her eyebrow.

"I'll stitch that," Rose said. "It won't heal well if I don't."

She had learned how to stitch wounds when she took care of patrons wounded in saloon brawls.

Rose next washed the woman's upper body. She really had beautiful breasts, firm and high. Her right breast, however, showed bite marks and bruising, and Rose washed the area, careful of causing hurt.

The black hair over Raven Feather's pussy was sticky with semi-dried man spunk. She could not get it out at first, and the young woman winced repeatedly as she tried to untangle the sticky hair. In the end, with a lot of soaking with warm water, Rose was able to get the pussy hair clean.

The legs came last, and Raven Feather moaned a few times when her open and bruised knees were washed. Finally, she was halfway clean.

In the meantime, Mandy had searched the saddle bags, but she found few useful things. The men had no spare clothing. In the end, Mandy decided to donate one of her own buckskin outfits. Fortunately, Ned arrived with the animals, and Mandy helped Raven Feather to dress. Rose's clothes were too small for the taller Oglala woman.

Ned and Jim searched the dead bushwhackers for useful possessions. Only their weapons and their horses were of any value. The bodies were disposed of in a small rock fissure which they filled with loose rocks afterwards.

With all this, it was past noon, and the travelers decided to stay for another night. They moved to their old campsite, though, since it had proven safe. After examining Raven, as they called her now, Rose was relieved. There was no bleeding from the inside, and little bruising around her vagina. Rose closed the cut over Raven's eyebrow with three carefully placed stitches. The young Oglala did not flinch once.

Raven had lived with her man, Walter, for a little over two years. He had traded her from her father for two gallon bottles of firewater. She did not know her age, since her people did not have counting words, nor did they care about the age of a girl. With Walter, she said, her life had been easier. He had treated her as his wife and taught her to speak English. They had a small cabin, two days along the trail, from where he ran his traps. They hardly ever saw people there.

Jim then asked her how they could help her.

"I do not know," she sighed, shaking her head. "I could live in the cabin and trap animals, but I cannot survive long. The traders will give me less money for the furs, because I'm a squaw. Where are you heading?"

"Up the South Platte River, into South Park. We dig for gold, there, and we trap." He looked at Ned, who nodded. "You could come with us. There are lots of men, diggers, and very few women. You could find a new man."

"White men don't take Lakota women for wives, and if they do, other white men will kill them. Could I stay with you? You say that you trap. I make good furs, I skin and cook. I can help with gold, too."

Jim looked at Rose, and Ned looked at Mandy. Both women nodded. They both secretly hoped that the young Lakota woman knew things that would help them in their new surroundings. Ned gave Raven a friendly smile.

"I guess, you can come along. We'll find something for you, one way or the other."

"Thank you. I will be a good woman for you," Raven said. "Could we ride by our cabin? I have clothes there, and other things we can use, like Walter's spare gun."

"Is it far off the trail?" Jim asked.

"It's a half day up Snake Creek, but it would be worth it. We have preserved food, too, and some furs. It would be a shame to let it go to waste."

Jim and Ned exchanged another glance. Ned shrugged, and Jim caught the meaning. They might as well have a look at Walter's 'estate'.

They spent the rest of the day preparing supper and assessing the horses of the dead bushwhackers. They picked the best for Raven, but the other three would fetch them at least $80 in Denver, with another twenty for the saddles.

The clear sky indicated another cold night, and they decided to stake the tents for the night. Raven offered to sleep in a blanket outside, but Rose objected. Ned and Mandy had the slightly bigger tent, but Ned looked so heartbroken at the idea of sharing the tent with Raven (and not having Mandy to himself) that a grinning Jim offered Raven to sleep with him and Rose. His motives were just a little selfish. With three people in the small tent, they would be much warmer.

They slept well, indeed. Rose was not troubled in the least over having shot one of the bushwhackers. The last weeks, first on the trek with Caplan, and now with her new husband, had awakened something in Rose that was hard to define for her. All her life, men used her for just one purpose, and she had always acquiesced. The mutiny against Caplan had been her first act of self-assertion. Now, with Jim and his friend Ned, Rose had the feeling that they saw her as more than a red-headed plaything. She felt better already with Jim than even in her best days in Independence, let alone in her miserable time in Baltimore.

She was ready enough to snuggle against Jim when his arms wrapped around her. Jim had accepted her assurance that she could use a Colt at face value, had included her into his plan of action. He had not doubted her because she was a woman. Pressed against his body, she made a resolution then. She would never lie to him, would never hurt him. He was a good man, and she would prove to him and to the world that she could be a good woman, a good wife.