Chapter 62: Minerva

She walked past me as if I did not exist and went straight to the big fireplace. She unbuttoned her shirt, pulled it loose, squeezed some of the water out of its long tail and flapped it toward the warmth. Her long skirt was also black and heavy with water and dripping on the hearth stones.

I dragged my old wool shirt out of the saddle bag beside me, yelled, "Here y'go," at her and threw the shirt in her direction. She turned and bent to retrieve it, unconscious of the fine view of her lush body with which I was presented. My root trembled at the sight of her amazing breasts with their protruding nipples.

She was a very good looking young woman, extremely well assembled with a great set of parts; long legs, high breasts, trim waist, well-rounded hips, firm ass; all the parts I enjoyed and wanted to enjoy. I guess she was somewhere short of twenty and filled with confidence and bravery. I was right on two out of three of those assumptions.

She peeled her wet shirt over her head with her back to me, giving me a clear view of rippling muscles and a deeply trenched spine. Her shoulders were wide for a woman's, her rib cage high and her waist very narrow indeed. There was not much fat on her. She shrugged into my old shirt and looked down. It hung to her knees, and she quickly got her soaked skirt off, squeezed it some and hung it on the tools beside the fire. She ruffled her hands through her wet hair and strode across the room to sit beside me with a smile on her handsome face. She walked like a big cat in her short boots. Her eyes were green; her hair cut short. She looked hungry.

"Where is everybody?" she asked, gesturing at the empty tavern as she dropped down on the bench.

By damn she was pretty, even with her hair in clumps and strings. "Charlie's upstairs trying 60 - Minerva

The young redhead came in out of the drenching rain and shook herself like a dog, spraying water in the entryway and jostling her rounded hips and bulbous boobs in a highly stimulating manner. I had never seen a woman do like that; she really shook, jouncing everything from side to side. She was wearing a man's wide-sleeved white shirt that was soaking wet and plastered to her fine body like a second skin. out his new wench, his serving girl," I said. "You can likely hear him at it."

We listened and the squeaking and thumping of the bed above soon was obvious. The sound went on clock-like, creak-clump, creak-clump. The soaked redhead smiled at me and offered her hand. "Minerva," she said, pushing a long curl out of her face, "Minerva Johnson from over toward the creek. My father was on the council."

I told her my name and said I was from Maryland and a Continental soldier. She raised an multi-colored eyebrow in a perfect arch. I explained my job and she nodded but looked dubious.

"What put you out in the rain?" I asked.

"Horse thieves," she said. "Think you could get me a drink?"

I nodded and stood. She rubbed her stubby nose and said, "Maybe some brandy. I'm chilled all the way though." My old shirt had never looked so well filled although it tended to gap open some since the shoulders were well down her upper arms. She had not bothered to button it any.

I could not find any brandy so brought her a glass of apple jack and the bottle. She downed the first one, shuddered and poured herself another. "Calvados," she said, licking her lips.

"Horse thieves?" I asked.

"Redcoated ones, three or four, but I was alone. Father's gone off selling some beef. They surprised me some."

Above us the bed creaked onward steadily.

"You still had some stock?"

She nodded. "We're in a hollow, easy to miss. How long they been at it?"

"Not long, half an hour maybe."

"Lord," she said. "Most of the men I've messed with didn't last ten minutes. Didn't know old Charlie had it in him."

"Sounds more like boys you've been seeing," I said, sipping my beer, thoroughly aroused and ready to board her right then and there to give her a sample of full-sized man meat. "You want some stew. It's rabbit I think."

She nodded and smiled again, lighting the room a bit. I fetched her a steaming bowl and a hunk of bread. It was very pleasant sitting beside her, smelling her, watching her body move under my soft shirt. A wailing cry came from upstairs and the creaking and bumping stopped.

Charlie soon came down, tucking in his shirt, and walked, a bit wobbly-legged, to our table. "Vera," he said, "good t'see you. How's yer Dad?"

She nodded, her mouth full.

"You know her?" he asked me.

I shook my head. "Just lent her an old shirt."

"Looks good on her?" he said.

"How's the girl," Minerva asked with a smile.

"She'll do," Charlie said. "Skinny little thing. Needs more meat on her bones. But she tries. She'll do."

The young woman came down, raking at her long hair, chin proudly raised, and walked past us to the kitchen, doing up her laces. She was a raw-boned farm girl, but showed some lanky grace in her stride. Charlie smacked her bottom as she passed, and she yelped good naturedly and skipped a step or two. She had the right attitude, obviously.

"All right if I spend the night," the redhead asked.

Charlie nodded, looking at me suspiciously.

"She had some British visitors," I said, recalling that there were only two beds above stairs.

"That so?" he said. The rain whipped the windows.

"Not many," the girl said. "But I didn't hang around."

Out of the rain came four big Redcoats, their hats pouring rainwater.

"It's them," she hissed to me, poking my ribs with her elbow. "I'm sure of it."

"Figures," I said. "Nearest port."

"Want some grog and a woman," the corporal said as he and his men stacked their muskets near the front door and shed their wet coats. "Be quick about it."

"Plenty of rum," Charlie said, "but I ain't got no whore. Sorry."

"She'll do," the stubble-faced soldier said, pointing at Minerva. "We ain' gonna hurt 'er, jus' 'ump 'er."

"You best leave my customers alone," Charlie said, standing his ground.

The corporal backhanded him and the two men behind him grabbed the tavern owner and held him while the fourth hit him in the chest and belly a few times. They threw Charlie out into the rain before I could even stand, just as the serving girl came from the kitchen.

'Bloody hell," the corporal said, "'e was lying. Come 'ere girl." He started working on his codpiece.

She screeched, ran back to the kitchen and barred the door loudly. I handed Minerva my loaded pistol and drew my bayonet. My musket was out in the shed with my mare. Things had been happening very fast.

The corporal came right to our table. He was wet from the knees down. "Shit-face," he said to me, "we want this 'ere bitch, jus' fer a 'our or so."

"Not for sale or rent," I said. "She's an American."

"Colonial whore, you mean," he said, putting both hands on our table and leaning down to leer at the redhead, licking his wide lips and winking at me. "Gi' y'a shilling fer 'er."

I nailed his right hand to the table with my bayonet, stood quickly and kneed him in the ballocks and then pulled my blade free and crossed the room where the three men were just rising from their benches, wearing surprised looks. I got a Redcoat that tripped, driving my bayonet through him as he screamed, "No!" I pulled my knife out and looked up, right into a musket muzzle.

One Brit was kneeling and looking to his pan while the other stood, taking dead aim at me from five paces when my heavy pistol boomed out from behind me that they were both flayed by buckshot, scattering meat and cloth. I waded in to finish them off quickly, hacking and slicing, spraying blood on the walls.

I stripped the dead of their ammunition and slim purses, got the bleeding corporal to his feet and forced him to drag his men down the path to dump their bodies in the raging creek. When he turned to face me, holding his ruined hand, I kicked him in the ballocks, and he fell back into the torrent and disappeared.