Chapter 6

The old couple and the young girl drove their wagon they called a 'Conestoga' through the dusty, salt laden, air towards the distant town. The two draft horses were parched and dirty from the journey and Secoweya worried they would never make it to water. She watched the lined face of her grandfather as he studied the ground ahead. They would arrive at their destination in 2 hours, the horses will make it.

Secoweya was torn. On the one hand she loved adventure and she'd precious little of it back home. On the other she did not want to go through with her 'mission, ' despite how important it was for her community. She clutched her shawl protectively about her body.

"It is not far," declared her grandfather, looking up to the sky. "The great eagle has guided us."

Secoweya followed his gaze upward and saw no eagle, nor any bird of any kind. But, then, grandpa saw things that others didn't.

"We must give thanks to the spirits," her grandmother told her.

"And the 'US Cartographical Service'?" Secoweya mumbled under her breath.

"The spirits have favored our journey and their blessings will lend strength to our bodies," her grandpa continued.

"What will you say to the white men?" her grandmother asked him. Secoweya noted their skin was no darker than any so called 'white man' she'd ever seen in her life. After several generations most inhabitants of this land had adopted a bronze tan. To grandpa, the term 'white men' was part distinction, part pejorative. 'White men were the enemy of the 'red men'. It had always been so.'

"The spirits will guide me and send my words to their chief," he declared.

"They say they have no chiefs," Grandma replied.

"That cannot be so. It is against the natural order of things."

"But what if what they say is true and they do not rule from here. What if they are nothing more than roving bands of nomads?"

"What if?" Grandpa repeated. "These 'roving bands' beat back the whites from the north. 'Roving bands' would scatter before the wind. They will have a council, officials, and a military - just like all white men."

With that, Grandpa began to chant his ancient thanks to the sky father. 'Ancient?' Actually, his chant was little more than three generations old when groups of enthusiasts found the settlement of the 'Oceti Secowan' to live as they imagined the old Native Americans once did. Few, if any, could claim any descent from any tribe and none of them knew the language, customs or way of life. Nevertheless, they studied assiduously all the literature and taught themselves 'Lakota' - or 'Lakota' as was possible to learn purely from books. They built a village on a little elbow of the Floral River they called by its ancient name, the 'Missouri.'

'Missouri Village' had thrived under the nominal protection of the North American Association, who collect taxes and provided markets for their maize, oats and corn. They also raised horses and domesticated bison and followed a half remembered version of the 'Ghost religion' of Paiute mystic Vovoka. Three generations worth of 'ghost dancing' had failed to resurrect Red Cloud or Sitting Bull to lead the Indian back to a time before the white man - but, it didn't stop these late blooming Sioux from trying.

But, Missouri Village had been thrust unwillingly into the wilderness by forces not of their making. Pending a formal signing of an agreement between the Committee Provinces, Capitol and the Arks, Missouri Village was likely to become part of the 'Ark Preserve' - a concept the Oceti Secowan had little idea of.

It was difficult to get any reliable information about their new rulers. Grandpa instantly dismissed them as 'another bunch of white men come to steal their land.' But no-one really knew. What they did understand was they'd better figure out a way of getting along with these white folks for their own survival. The village council figured the most ancient and reliable method of creating stability was to form an alliance by way of marriage. This had fallen on 19 year old Secoweya's shoulders. Grandpa and Grandma were to find a husband for her - preferably the highest Ark official possible - as the prettiest, most eligible girl among the Oceti Secowan.

The 'tribe' was governed by a chief who was advised by a council of village elders. The complexities of the old Sioux system of tribal organization was largely lost and the Oceti Secowan became a patriarchy, pure and simple. Ordinarily, however, marriage matters were the domain of women, but, Secoweya's betrothal was considered a matter of diplomacy, a male preserve.

Secoweya had little choice in the matter. Raised in a village that had little contact with the outside world, she knew there were civilizations beyond the village boundaries and she wished to see them. She was happy to be chosen at first, but the reality was beginning to dawn on her the closer they got to Iberica. All she could hope for was that this official was at least young, kind and good looking. She feared it was a forlorn hope as any high official was bound to be old, and being unmarried, less than attractive.

"Huh!" Grandpa cried in satisfaction. There before them, in the middle of the salt pan, was the town of Iberica. From a distance it was a haphazard sprinkle of white buildings glaring under the hot sun. A far off caravan was snaking its way towards it like an ant trail. Secoweya shivered in fear as Grandpa snapped the reins.

Meanwhile, Hap woke with a start to find two naked women pressed on either side of him. On his left was Moira Lys sleeping soundly with her back to him. She'd rolled onto his arm and it ached. The cheeks of her arse were crushed into his thigh, moist with sweat. On his other side, Mirri was curled into his arm and her hot breath played onto his shoulder. Her hair was an untidy tangle and spilled over his chest, her small, pointed breasts grazed his right side and she had a leg bent over his other thigh.

He felt a pang of guilt mixed with a jolt of forbidden lust. She was only 14 and the injunctions of the society in which he was raised declared sex with this girl illegal. It didn't matter both Mirri and Moira Lys were enthusiastic participants, Hap found it hard to ditch his upbringing.

He recalled that not more than a few hours ago he'd had his head between the legs of this girl. Spurred on by Moira Lys, he'd lapped and lapped as she squirmed in pleasure, her legs draped over his shoulders. Moira Lys had clutched her, running her hands over her thighs, kissing her neck and whispering, 'that's it, my darling, the best therapy there is. Hap, babe, a little harder, dear, she's nearly there.'

And Hap had given her the best tongue job he'd could, given the circumstances. She'd grunted, cried out, and held his head to her crotch. At the same time, he'd rubbed Moira Lys's mature pussy with his finger until it grew tired. She'd then taken over the task until Hap's achingly rigid penis took over. Moira Lys, too, had come while Mirri squeezed her breasts and Hap poured litres of hot sperm into her.

The recollection caused him to grow excited once more. He carefully extracted his arm from under Moira Lys's body and inched her off his thigh. With his free hand, he rearranged his penis up his stomach to give it room for expansion. He closed his eyes and dreamed of swamps full of alligators to calm his dick and allow him to get back to sleep.

It was then he felt Mirri stir beside him. 'Don't!' she mumbled, and it was clear she was having a bad dream. Hap did the only decent, caring thing and tried to comfort her by stroking the back of her neck.

"There, there," he cooed, softly, as one would to a child.

"Huh?" she mumbled, and opened her eyes. "Sorry," she said, her eyes showing confusion. "Did I wake you?"

"I was awake already," he replied. "You having a bad dream?"

"Dunno, maybe," she whispered. "I don't remember. What did I say?"

"Stuff, doesn't matter."

Mirri moved her leg up and came in contact with Hap's balls. "Sorry," she smiled, and felt his stiff cock. "Oh!" she said in surprise. "You're..."

"Happens sometimes," Hap told her, trying to dismiss his condition.

"So you were having a good dream?" she giggled.

"I guess," Hap smiled.

"Moira Lys was right, you have a nice smile."

"Oh, and what else did she say?" Hap asked.

"Stuff," she smiled, enigmatically. "All true."

"I bet," Hap rolled his eyes.

"I'd, ah, just like to thank you," she said. "For what you did. It was nice."

"Think nothing..."

"It's what I needed. Moira Lys was right."

"About what?"

"About sex being the best therapy. To get over things. She said..."