Chapter 8

The rescue boat landed in Mobile at dusk of the day he was picked up out of the lifeboat with the dead Betty Trotter. Jesse was in and out of consciousness in a local hospital, his badly dehydrated and sunburned body screaming at him in pain during his more lucid moments. Serious infection and resulting high fevers conspired with his burns to slow his recovery. September faded into the first of December before Jesse really regained his full senses and his full recovery became more or less certain as opposed to the former "probably won't make it."

Somewhere in the latter stages of his recovery, a man appeared at his bedside. He said, "I was told you were better and awake. My name is Grant Bixby, a banker the boat captains like to use. One of those Captains came by a while back with a money belt. He's the captain of the boat that rescued you, an honest, hard working man. He described you and gave me the belt for safe keeping until you were well. I didn't think you wanted it here yet, but when you're ready, stop by my bank and you may have it."

Jesse was quite relieved by this information and it showed in his facial expression.

Jesse said, "Thank you, I had, of course, missed it by now and wondered how I was going to make my way. I assumed it was long gone. Yes, I'll be by when the time comes. Thanks again."

The banker replied, "Not to mention it. I'll bid you goodbye, now, I have to get back to the bank. Good day, young man."

By Christmas time of 1866, Jesse felt well enough to ride and thought himself ready for the long ride out to the the small holding of the Trevelon family. Following the directions he been given by his dead buddy early in the war during one of their many nightly discussions, Jesse had little difficulty finding his way.

At the little farm, a decidedly unfriendly and chilling reception at gun point didn't deter Jesse. After he identified himself, his mission, and the fact that he was unarmed, the man behind the shotgun poking out of the narrow crack of the open door said gruffly.

"Turn your horse so's we can see you get off and step down, real easy with your hands where I can see them!"

Jesse did as instructed. After stepping down, he dropped the reins, ground hitching his mount, while he remained standing with his hands shoulder high.

The voice then told him, "Step up on the porch and stop."

Again Jesse did as instructed. He unstrapped his crutches from the horse and hobbled up onto the porch.

"You say you were with my boy when he died?"

Jesse responded, "Yes, sir, he was one of my crew on a twelve pound Napoleon cannon."

The voice then said, "All right, step in, but slow and easy. No quick movements or I'll cut you in two!"

Jesse stepped slowly inside where he was offered a chair at the rude table in the rude little cabin. He rested his crutches against the table. The shotgun was lowered to a position on the man's lap, but his finger remained resting quietly on the outside of the trigger guard, ready for instant action, should it be needed. The chair was positioned so that the gun remained pointed in the general direction of Jesse.

"Say what you got to say, mister, and be quick about it," said the man.

Jesse then told his short story.

"As I said, Lester was a crewman on my gun. I had just turned and taken two steps back to get another shell from the ammunition trunk when a Yankee shell found us. I survived, but the rest of the crew was killed. Lester died a soldier's death, manning his gun in battle, under fire. He was unflinching and courageous in his duty, a real hero of the South! I had several personal things of his to give to you, but they were lost along with everything I owned in the hurricane that sank my ship a day short of reaching port. I'm sorry for you for Lester's death and that I couldn't give you the things he wanted you to have."

Mrs. Trevelon was quietly sobbing on the other side of the table.

The man said, "It's likely best that you leave us now. I thank you for coming and telling us this."

The Mrs. then spoke up, "Mr. Trevelon, can't you see this boy was hurt rather badly by that same explosion? You can't force him to make that very long ride back to the city in the dark. It would take him most of the night."

Mr. Trevelon responded, "All right woman, he can sleep in the hayloft, but," here he swung around to look at Jesse, "you best be on your way by first light."

Jesse responded, "Yes sir, thank you sir!"

As Jesse rose, he turned to the woman and bowed as he said, "And thank you, Missus, your boy really was a good soldier."

Jesse walked out to his horse and led him to the barn. There, he gave his rented horse a good rub down and forked some hay into his stall. He also gave the horse a good bait of the oats he found. Jesse spread some fresh straw in the next stall and bedded down for the night with his blanket roll and saddle. Climbing a ladder to the loft was not impossible, but close to it, and he just didn't feel up to that task.

Jesse had been asleep for sometime. He was plumb tuckered out from the long ride and the tension in the house upon his arrival, so it was the deep sleep of the truly exhausted. He didn't hear the barn door open, nor the slight noise of the stall door opening far enough to admit the small, barefoot figure.

Jesse was having an erotic dream that captured all his sleeping attention. In his dream, he was receiving the best blow job of his life! His cock was throbbing and about to burst, and just as he started to cum, he jolted awake to find his cock poking out of his long johns and a young woman stroking it. At least he thought it was a woman; it was so dark he could not tell for sure.

"What, the hell?" croaked Jesse.

"Shhh, be quiet," the shadowy form said. "If Daddy hears us and discovers me out here, he will literally kill us both and dump us in the swamp! You saw what he's like when you talked to him today."

"Yes," replied Jesse, groaning some in pleasure as the girl continued her slow ministrations on his throbbing and now, very stiff cock. "So what are you doing out here now, pumping my cock?"

"I'm eighteen years old and Daddy keeps me locked up at home, a prisoner, and runs off any boys who come around with his shotgun. I am never allowed out unless Daddy is with me. It's as if I have on this invisible chastity belt. I have feelings! I want to see boys! In fact, I do see a boy. I have to sneak out, like tonight, but I manage. The trouble is, the boy I have been meeting here in the barn is just that, a boy. We finally tried to "do it" last week, but he is too inexperienced."

"Well, he'll learn eventually"

"Maybe, but Bobby Dean just couldn't get it all the way in my--my--me, and when he finally leaked, he made a mess all over my night clothes. I think Mama knows what's going on, but she would never tell Daddy. I want a real man! After Bobby, I really NEED a man."

"Even if it kills us both?"

"I'm sorry, if it comes to that, but YES! I'm desperate!"

"Ok," said Jesse. "But let's get a couple of things straight and call a spade a spade. Yours is a 'pussy, ' mine's a 'cock, ' and 'it, ' is called, 'fucking.' OK?"

"Ok."

"Now," Jesse asked, "what's your name, and where were you yesterday when I talked to your pa? And don't stop stroking my cock, keep doing that!"

"My name's Nanette. I'm the second oldest, after Lester. I prefer to be called just Nan. Daddy said I was to stay in my bedroom and not come out under any conditions while you were in the house."

With a girlish giggle, Nan said, "He forgot to say anything about when you were not in the house!"

Jesse, who was now sitting up, reached up and held Nan by either side of her face and tilted it up. Just then, the full moon came out from behind a cloud and shown in the barn window, directly onto Nan's face.