Chapter 22: Margaret

"Come in here," the scruffy inn-keeper urged with a wink. "Got somethin' I think you'll like."

I followed him to a small back room under a slanting shed roof, and then on a filthy bed lay a slim, young woman, bare as the day she was born, one hand and the opposite foot tied to the bedstead and a gag in her mouth. She had a fine, strong body and dark brown hair. Her eyes pleaded, and she covered her privates with her free hand. My cock trembled to be among those fingers, beneath those dark curls, deep in that lean body.

"Y'can have an hour w'her for jus' a crown," the man said, nudging me with his elbow. "She ain't been used much yet. Small bore, she are."

Her thighs were bruised and there were bite or scratch marks on her neck and firm breasts, but she was clean and certainly looked worth swiving. Twenty, I guessed, less than ten stone, and damn pretty from what I could see. A trickle of blood seeped from her short nose and bruised lips.

"C'mon," the fat bartender said, "g'me a crown an' enjoy y'sef a bit."

I dug a coin out of my purse and put it in his hand. He patted my back and closed the door behind himself with a foul chuckle. I bent over the frightened girl and carefully took the gag from her mouth. Her eyes widened and she gasped and then wiped her lips. Then I untied her foot and her wrist and helped her sit up. Since I could see no clothes in the small room, I took off my coat and draped it about her shoulders. She pushed it down between her legs and fumbled one button closed at her belly. She trembled continuously. Then I quietly told her my name.

She nodded, swallowed and said, "Thank you. I'm Margaret F-. My step-father did this." She turned to me, grabbed my shoulders, buried her head on my chest and sobbed. I patted her lean back and tried to ignore the feel of her bare body against mine.

"Why?" I asked, lifting her chin and wiping tears from her cheeks, admiring her beauty. She had the fine features of a well-bred child.

She shook her head. "He sold me. And the man that bought me, a gambler, he used me, rogered me for a week, every way he could think of." She shuddered again. "Then he bartered me here yesterday. Said he needed a jug of good whisky more than a cold woman." She sniffed and looked up at me, melting my will with her dark eyes and soft mouth.

"Hm," I said. "What did he get for you, just a jug?"

She shook her head and then pushed back her long and tangled hair, "I don't know." She wiped her nose with her hand and held the other hand at her belly.

I went to the door and yelled, "Innkeeper!"

When the man appeared, I yanked him into the room and pressed him against the wall with my big bayonet at his throat. "How much did you give for her?" I demanded.

"Not for sale," he grunted.

I pricked his neck just under his sagging chin.

"Hundred pounds, Continental," he said in a shaky voice. "Hun'red pounds."

"Take five in silver for her or you want me to cut your throat?"

He nodded very carefully, and I fished out my purse and handed it to the girl on the bed behind me. She put the coins in my hand, and I gave them to the man, clinking them one by one into his outstretched hand.

"She got any clothes?" I asked.

"I'll get 'em," he said, pulling free of my grip and fleeing the room.

The cook brought the girl's clothes and soft boots, and I left her alone while she dressed, standing guard at the door, trying to get my member to relax. When she came and stood beside me and took my arm, we left quickly, keeping our backs to the wall. I got her to yank her wide skirt up between her legs and helped up to the saddle of my hefty mare. I mounted behind her, enjoying the feel of her body between my legs and clucked at the horse. She looked back at me and then walked on.

"Where are we going?" the girl asked, her full breasts bouncing on my forearms, her buttocks firmly against my groin.

"You have any kin, folks you can trust?"

She shook her head.

"Then I don't know," I said. "I've got work to do."

"What sort of work?"

"Scouting," I told her. "I'm a soldier, Maryland Line." It was the easiest way to say it although it was not true.

"Oh," she said, wiggling and trying to get comfortable, stirring me as she did. She hooked her feet behind my legs.

"Where did you live?" I asked. "Before all this?"

"When my mother died, we lived in Marfield, just over the line." She went on and told me about her step-father, an itinerant preacher of some sort and how he tried to get her into his bed and then sold her, saying she was indentured to get a better price.

"Man that bought me got a paper, forgery of course," she said. "He raped me, took my maidenhead, the bastard." Then she was quiet for a while. When we came to another inn, I helped her down and we went in and had a good meal.

"Now what?" she asked after finishing her cider. She had raked her hair back with her fingers and sat proudly, her fine chest jutting out at me in her torn but well-made dress. She evidently did not own a shift, just the dress and some well-work boots.

"Did you ever hear of a woman called Von R--?" I asked.

She shook her tumbling locks.

"A fine woman, true patriot," I said. "Lives just outside the city of New York, large house, many servants. She is well thought of in Tory circles, quite wealthy I'm sure."

"Patriot?" she said.

I nodded.

"We were loyal, my mother and I were. My step-father, he didn't care one way or the other, but I was loyal, to the King I mean."

"And now?" I asked.

"I don't know," she said, lowering her eyes. Night was coming on fast and I needed make several decisions. I explained what the madam and her covey of comely "nieces" did for the cause.

"Really," she said, "they sleep with British officers, government officials, have relations with them, sexual relations? Use their bodies that way?"