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 �>�Captive Long Hair Soldier Girl by Tony Sorrentino Copyright�(C) 2016 by
Tony Sorrentino

   Chapter 1

   Running Wolf never set much store by any kind of female.  He was
strictly a man's man and a female's foolishness and devious tricks made him
too angry for logical words.  At least that was his opinion until he came
into possession of a young blond Cavalry Officer's wife that that been
captured after a battle that resulted in the razing of Fort McDonald from
the maps of Indian Territory.

   They retired the colors of that defeated unit just to remove the memory
of the disturbing loss to a group of uneducated and poorly armed savages
with no military training at all.  The officer-in-charge was relegated to
dusty mention in history books but never again spoken of in the Officer's
Mess.  There was a fair share of womenfolk and young ones that survived the
debacle but they were immediately set upon by the Indian female followers
that made a misery of their tattered minds and bodies.  The children were
sold off to some Mexican adventurers that furnished the Indians with enough
repeating rifles to make a difference in the battle even though most of the
hostiles were only armed with hatchets and bows.  It was the sort of battle
where a handy Tomahawk was the weapon of choice when push came to shove.

   Running Wolf was not exactly certain how he became saddled with the
responsibility for the Long-Haired Blonde female captive but when he awoke
from a muddled sleep resulting from celebrating with the captured whiskey
from the Sutler's shop, there she was chained to the boulder in the middle
of the buffalo hide tent.  He didn't remember why she was there or how she
had gotten the two black eyes and the cut on her head where someone had
started taking her scalp while she was still alive.

   His second wife Squatting Beaver filled him in on the particulars with a
deep ugly scowl on her usually pretty young face.

   "You fight with Soaring Hawk about this stinking creature from the White
Man's Fort because he was lifting her hair to punish her for not spreading
her legs for him.  Now she belongs to us because you are so foolish.  The
women from his family will never speak to me again and I wanted their son
to marry our daughter Singing Raven."

   Running Wolf was certain he must have been drunk because he didn't
remember any of it at all.  The white woman looked at him with her black
eyes and he thought she looked more like a badger than any other animal
that came to mind.  He called her Badger girl from that point on and the
others smiled at his little joke because of her funny face looking so sad
and serious in the poor light of the overcast rainy day.

   He poked her with his walking stick and she hunched down lower
protecting her private parts.  It made him laugh because he could just
imagine the young braves introducing her to the Indian way of captivity and
complete loss of any sense of dignity or self-respect.  He didn't have any
problem with that agenda because it made a lot of sense in the
confrontational atmosphere of the American frontier in the mid-eighteen
hundreds.  The concept of taking captives and punishing them at will was a
way of life for all of the Indian tribes and now they were pitted against
the dreaded settlers that were trying to steal their lands.

   The captives were the slaves that did most of the work around the camp.
They were all loose and generally not tied up but this white woman was a
trouble maker from the very first night of her captivity.  She was not
cooperative in spreading her legs and giving comfort to the warriors and
she often spoke without being spoken to first.  The braves formed a line to
punish her for her reluctance and held her down to accept their weight on
her back.  The wives found it all so funny that they laughed at her wails
of despair and beat her with their small sticks with the burrs on the end.

   Now he had this skinny white woman package in his tent and he didn't
even find her attractive enough to mount with some degree of anticipation.
He invited his first wife's brother to sample the girl just to show his
wives that he still had control over the situation.  It was unfortunate he
had the responsibility because it certainly detracted from the harmony in
his usually peaceful home.

   Grey Eagle bared the girl's flanks and they all laughed at the whiteness
of her skin.  It was so ugly that some of the little ones slapped her hard
with their tiny hands to show their distaste for her existence.  She was
more offended than injured and when Grey Eagle straddled her hips to take
his stance, the girl put her head down into the blanket and hid her face so
they couldn't see her disgust.  The sound of her training was not at all
reassuring to Running Wolf because he didn't stand to gain anything but
grief from the girl's presence in his home.

   It was obvious to his wives that Grey Eagle was enjoying the tableau a
bit too much for their liking and they kicked some dirt on the girl's feet
and hands just to show their dislike for her ugly body.  Running Wolf began
to worry about Grey Eagle's health because the older man was panting from
his exertions on the Cavalry Officer's wife's naked backside plumbing her
depths like she was some mine filled with the yellow metal that the white
men valued so much they were willing to kill each other to get more and
more.  The old man threw back his head and howled like an animal caught in
a trap.  He jabbered about how tight the white woman was and he slapped her
legs and hips to show his enjoyment of her constant squirming.  She lifted
her head momentarily right at the moment that he must have fired off his
salvo of savage spunk into her gut and looked around for some semblance of
sympathy but found only smug satisfaction at her discomfort.

   To say the least, it was disconcerting to Margaret Hatcher, widow of the
recently murdered Captain Harry Hatcher and she knew her future looked dim
indeed.

   When Grey Eagle was finished with the captive, he pushed her back into
the shadows of the corner and she curled up into a little ball trying her
best to hide her blackened eyes and her torn skin right at the edge of her
scalp.  That was a reminder to her that her cooperation was probably the
best way to survive this ordeal and she put aside all of her biases about
the Native Americans and did her level best to just see them as fellow
human beings even if they did act like insensitive savages with no
consideration for female dignity.

   Early the next morning, Margaret was sent out with Running Wolf's second
wife to collect armloads of firewood to keep some warmth in the small tent.
The weather was still filled with the remnants of the harsh winter and she
didn't see any respite of the chill anytime soon.  She hoped that the wives
would allow her under the blanket pile now that she had given the males
what they wanted in the dark of the unlighted tent.

   Margaret was desperate for a wash in the cold waters of the running
stream choked with small chunks of ice floating down from the foothills in
the distance.  It would be a shock to her system but she needed to clean
the vestiges of the capture and her ill use by the male savages on a
continual basis ever since they lashed her wrists together with joyful
whoops of glee.

   Her best friend Molly McGuire the wife of the Sergeant Major was raped
right in front of her to show her how bad the treatment might become if she
didn't cooperate.  Poor Molly was not granted a reprieve because she
distressingly overweight and the Indians considered her a burden on their
stressful lifestyle.  She had two small daughters that were traded to the
Mexicans and ever since that moment, Molly had no desire to remain in this
world any longer.  She certainly didn't want to wind up like Molly and was
surprised at her near brush with death because she hesitated to open her
knees for a drunken savage with evil intent on his mind.  She vowed she
would not make that mistake again since it was of no import how many of the
savages availed themselves of her worldly flesh just as long as they didn't
rob her of her life in the taking.

   They found ample heaps of firewood and hustled it back to the camp as
quickly as possible because the second wife wanted to make a second trip to
insure they had enough for the next few days that promised to be filled
with feasting with a supposed "friendly" tribe from land beyond the
foothills.  She sensed that the wives and most of the men were skeptical of
the "friendly" nature of the other tribe because they had apparently been
murdering each other only recently and now this shaky union of the tribes
was contrived to fight the superiority of the encroaching white settlers
from far away.

   Margaret did her best to cover her sore tummy and her privates from the
beating that the second wife gave her because she was too slow in returning
with the second load of firewood.  She knew that she had carried at least
twice the weight of firewood on her sturdy back and that the smaller woman
knew she had met her match in strength and endurance.  It was so obvious
that even Running Wolf nodded his head in respect for her strength and
agility.  It was a well-known fact back at the now defunct Fort that
Margaret was a fine shot with the long gun and that she was a superior
horsewoman.

   In the back of her mind, she knew that if she got near a free horse, she
would be able to skedaddle so fast that the Indians wouldn't even see her
dust.  Until that time, she was willing to follow every instruction and do
any deed no matter how dirty or depraved that they forced her to do.  Her
purpose was to survive until she could secure her own freedom because she
was certain there was no rescue party being formed anytime soon.

   The visiting tribe was mostly male with just a few females taken along
to carry heavy loads like pack mares at the rear.  Those females were
previously captured females mostly of Mexican or Indian origin with only a
handful of white women in the group.  Margaret stayed clear of them because
she knew Running Wolf was looking for an excuse to beat her and then force
her to his will as an example for the other captives on proper behavior. 
She was determined not to give him the opportunity and vowed to be a model
prisoner in every respect.

   The thing she had not anticipated was that she would be selected to get
thrown to the visiting males like a piece of meat to be devoured just to
satisfy their hungry loins.  In retrospect, she could appreciate the fact
that they would not want to offer up their own wives and daughters for
nocturnal humping because that would far too demeaning for their
reputation.

   It could have been worse because she only had to perform for three
savages and they were a blur of arms and legs and demanding probing male
flesh that gave her no respite for most of the hours of darkness.  When she
returned to the tent, she was allowed to curl up in the corner and sleep
because they all knew the demands of "midnight meat" for the visiting
guests.

   They were all happy to see the departure of the visiting tribe because
there was a sense of unease about their true agenda.  Besides, old habits
are hard to break and the animosities of the past were hard to forget
easily.



   Chapter 2

   The young widow Margaret looked down at her reflection in the icy waters
of the mountain stream and saw that her blackened eyes were no longer
bruised and disgusting.  She knew that they were the reason why the horny
braves insisted she keep her face down in the blankets when they were
training her for nocturnal service.

   That sort of business had been happily curtailed recently because the
novelty of having a fresh white captive under the control of the tribe had
worn off and she had been tasted by almost all of the males except for
Spotted Elk who tended to prefer the company of men to women.  His strength
and cunning was reason enough for the other males to keep their speculation
to themselves when he took the male captives into his hut for "guarding" at
night.

   Margaret was aghast at her never before suspected submissive attitude
when it came to putting survival in front of dignity and pride in order to
stay alive in captivity.  She remembered that she had been a bit in shock
right after she first married the Cavalry officer in a quick ceremony back
east before heading out West into the frontier of Indian Territory.  First,
there was the confusion over the necessary bedroom exercises that every new
bride was expected to perform to her husband's satisfaction or spend the
remainder of her life regretting her decision to take him as her partner
for life.  Now that he was gone after being parted from his flowing hair
that had extended all the way down to his shoulders, she was determined to
hold onto hers as long as possible no matter what it took.

   At least her husband was not overly cursed with a driving need for
copulation like these half naked savages with urges that required many of
them to have multiple wives to keep them satisfied under the blankets.  She
really didn't mind being taken after being rudely awakened in the middle of
the night but the fact that the giggling women were watching her ordeal
served to break her spirit quicker than she had anticipated when the whole
thing started after the Fort was burned to the ground.

   There were two other white female captives in the tribe but you would
have to look real close under the dirt and grime to discover that fact. 
Margaret was still proud enough to keep her body reasonably clean even if
the river water was ice cold from the melting snow.  She noticed that most
of the males in the tribe were also fastidious in their hygiene and that
surprised her because the term, "Dirty Indian" was so much a part of
everyday conversation she had expected something quite different.  It must
have been the constant purification steaming inside the hot rock hut that
kept them so clean under their skimpy clothing.  If only the females had
more than the icy water of the river to work in their favor they wouldn't
look so bedraggled and worn-out.  The pair of other white females was an
example of women with no hope of rescue and fully broken in spirit of will.
They were no better than pack mules ready for any command and unable to
comprehend their defeat.

   Margaret vowed to never become like them while still following orders to
stay healthy in captivity.  She did her level best to avoid keeping the
men's seed inside her because the thought of becoming a mother to a
half-breed offspring was not an option for happiness after she was saved
from the savages.  She did find that her efforts to teach the young
children the English language helped her to learn many words in the dialect
of the tribe.  She had tried to pinpoint the name of the tribe but it
became confusing because they used different words to describe their
origins.  The only thing she was certain about was that they had originated
in Canada and migrated to the Indian Territory in search of the fast
disappearing buffalo that were the free butcher shop of the plains.  The
children showed her how to chew the hides to make them nice and soft for
wearing next to the skin and she did a good job because she was fortunate
in having a fine set of shiny white teeth and prided the fact she had them
all still in her mouth.  The oldest white captive was a woman of about
forty and she was just the opposite in the teeth department.

   Kate had been a prisoner for several years and she had lost all hope of
ever being rescued.  In fact, she wasn't sure she wanted to be rescued
because she was only a shell of the woman who had stepped off the
stagecoach expecting an adventure and finding a horror story.  The
indignity of spreading her legs on command was minor in comparison to her
first owner who was a notorious firewater addict with a habit of taking out
his drunken frustrations of the females inside his hut.  A single year with
that brave cost her ever last tooth in her head but she kept her misery to
her own counsel because she did not want to cause Jumping Eagle to lose
face with the tribe for beating his own female family members.  He had two
other wives that suffered the same indignities but they managed to avoid
the brunt of it letting it all fall on Kate's shoulders when he was at his
worst.

   They all conspired to keep Jumping Eagle alive because a female without
a male provider was fair game in the society that valued only the strength
of a male fighter and the service of a female for cooking, cleaning and
servicing the braves in the middle of the night.  It was far better to have
an abusive spouse than to be without a man inside their hut.

   Margaret pitied Kate and the other woman who seemed a bit addled in the
head from her experiences.  She was more concerned with her destiny and
started planning for her own attempted escape.  The young widow figured any
thought of being rescued was a complete waste of time and her best course
of action was to be her own rescuer.

   The other Indians were fascinated at Margaret's teaching efforts and
laughed at the way the children looked up at her now as their teacher and
not just a convenient captive to tease and make fun of.  The concept of
learning anything other than how to perform everyday needs of survival was
foreign to them and they tended to ridicule those who were interested in
such things.  Margaret knew who the troublemakers were and she devised ways
to keep them away from her other students so they could learn their lessons
without interference from the scornful ones.  They almost always were boys
because the females tended to see the learning as another way to achieve
some bit of equality with the male members of the tribe.  It was easy to
see that many of the females were a lot smarter than the males and they
were able to grasp the concepts of Geography and History much quicker than
the males and able to retain what they had learned a lot better.  Soon she
was teaching English, Geography, and History and even gave them lessons on
how the white man's government worked in Washington, D.C.

   They made fun of her stories about how the vast hordes of soldiers had
just fought a war between themselves with many thousands of them being
killed as sheer fiction.  The thought of the horse soldiers being as
numerous as the buffalo out on the plains was ludicrous and she was thought
to be making it all up just to scare them.

   Something happened to the mountain stream and the water tapered off to a
mere trickle.  A couple of the braves went upstream to see what had
happened but after a few days, the others were certain they had met with
some calamity and were not coming back.  That left a couple of widows who
were quickly distributed to the other remaining males and Margaret's hut
got one of them.  She was called Black Raven and it was probably due to her
long black hair that she washed every day in the stream but now she had no
opportunity to do so.  The poor girl spent most of the night doing nothing
but sobbing into the blanket and she didn't stop even when Running Wolf at
the instigation of his first wife humped her skillfully on the heap of
blankets right next to the fire.  Margaret watched the girl taking Running
Wolf's sizable offering without comment and she almost laughed because it
was obvious he was doing his level best to take the girl's mind off her
suffering at the loss of a spouse.  Eventually, he just gave up and came
over to Margaret to finish his session because he knew the white woman was
certain to appreciate him a lot more than the weepy new addition to the
household.

   They really didn't have a chief in charge because the last one was shot
by the soldiers just for asking for peace.  Instead they asked the medicine
man for help in deciding what to do.  His name was Wise Owl and he looked
to be at least a hundred years old but was probably a lot younger.  It was
just the hard living that made him look that old.  He was also missing all
of his teeth but they were lost due to sickness and not knocked out by
angry fists.  His granddaughter Happy Beaver chewed his meat for him and he
thanked her by finding braves of her liking to give her a baby under the
blankets without involving their spouses in the transaction.

   The medicine man opined that it would be best for them to find new
spaces to reside in with nearby running water.  The proximity of the
running water was the key element in the placing of a camp and all Indians
were fully aware of its power to sustain their life and give them the means
to survive in a harsh cruel world.

   The packing up and the move were well-organized and Margaret could see
that the tribe was used to moving from place to place in a migratory
fashion based on a need for survival and not just some random desire to see
something new or different.  She found that she enjoyed the hard work in
getting things prepared and was even issuing orders to the other women to
get them focused on the demands of the full scale evacuation taking
everything of value with them.  It bothered her to see some of the women
just slacking off and not giving it their full measure and she used the
Indian words she had learned from the children to express her
dissatisfaction with their lack of industriousness much to the amusement of
the braves who watched the women do all the work because that was the way
it was in such matters.

   The new location was ideal and Margaret showed the women how to set up a
clothes washing station that took advantage of the flat rocks and the
running water to do most of the work.  She even used the empty half barrels
that had stored the firewater to use with heated water for the more
difficult items.  It was obvious that they had never thought of that before
and it was at first amusing but then they saw the benefit of it and never
stopped using it in the future.  She told the women it would be far better
to do their "business" downstream to keep the drinking water pure as it
flowed downstream.  At first they giggled but saw the wisdom in taking a
few extra steps in the process.  The men started to do the same thing just
because they didn't want the women to get all the credit for cleaner water.

   Everything seemed to be functioning smoothly and she was being beaten
far less than before making Margaret a lot happier than when she first was
captured.  It seemed like she was more in demand for nocturnal duties as a
number of the braves wanted to sample her favors reputed to be "tight and
ready" most of the time.  Strangely, she was not as bothered by that any
longer and in fact she often looked forward to who would walk inside the
hut when the sun was below the horizon.

   But, just like everything else in this world, things were about to
change.

   Her first indication of the new changes was when she woke up to the
sound of a strange foreign language being spoken outside the hut.  What was
even stranger was the Indians spoke it as well and she peeked out to see a
number of white men talking to the Indians like they were old friends
meeting after a long time of separation.

   She could not be certain but it sounded an awful lot like French.



   Chapter 3

   The newly relocated Indian camp was pretty much settled into a stable
routine when the visitors from the North came to present them with a
proposition to locate, capture and help transport captured settler women to
the northern territories where females were in short supply and the men
needed the solace of a woman -(TM)s arms to calm their frustrated drive to
copulate with a  -�real -� woman.  The local Indian tribes were none too
pleased to share their female members with the intruding white men that had
established deep roots in the northern territories.  Finding and selling
the white women to the settlers in the north posed no problem to the
Indians because it was a way to harass the white settlers without actually
being saddled with the care and maintenance of silly white women that might
not be productive and present an excuse for the horse soldiers to raid and
exterminate the chosen people to recover the detainees.  It had reached a
point that the mere presence of a captive like Margaret was a flashpoint of
trouble for the tribe and they knew enough to avoid confrontation with the
merciless Cavalry.

   Margaret knew she was going to be in that group just as soon as she
heard the reason for the Frenchmen -(TM)s presence in the Indian camp.  It
just stood to reason that she would be sent on her way because suddenly she
was a danger to the well-being of the entire village.  As if to confirm her
anticipation of transfer, one of the Frenchmen came into their hut after
the sun went down and her captor made a great show of turning her
physically over to his corner of the hut for whatever use he might find in
his heart for her nocturnal duties.  Margaret fully expected to be beaten
first but the man was a bit on the feeble side, physically, not mentally,
and he found it necessary to ask her assistance in getting mounted in a
proper position for  -�knowing -� her in a carnal sense.

   For some reason that she couldn -(TM)t even understand at the time, she
arranged the man -(TM)s body in such a way that all she had to do was push
back into his hardness and he was able to enter her adequately for the
purpose of normal copulation.  She took it with a sense of doing her duty
to make a guest happy in her owner -(TM)s hut.  The other wives look on
them with curiosity because most of them had never seen a Frenchman -(TM)s
cock before.

   Margaret scuttled around and cleansed the Frenchman -(TM)s shaft with
her mouth and he was much taken with her efforts to bring him joy in the
shadows of the night.  The other wives thought the white woman was
disgusting with her little tricks to snare the men into seeking her
coupling.  They were particularly incensed at her offering her rear flanks
for insertion like some animal in the field when every Indian knew it was a
Taboo for such deviance in personal interactions.  They were mystified that
she acted like she enjoyed the pain of such unnatural coitus and her
grunting pleasure annoyed them to the point of pure hatred.

   Several of the tribal hierarchy was of the opinion keeping Margaret
inside their camp was a worthwhile risk because she had made their
lifestyle better since she had joined them in every sense of the word.  She
was teaching the small ones to speak the words of the fork-tongued devils
in Washington, D.C.  She had already impressed on them the importance of
doing their toilet a bit downstream to protect the drinking water supply
and simple cleanliness.  Her clothes washing techniques were still
primitive like their own ways but she showed the women how to clean the
clothes more effectively and without a need for expensive soap to remove
the dirt.  The women tended to clean their hair more often following her
example of daily care and the men appreciated the benefit of having clean
hair tickling their nostrils in the middle of the night.

   Her skills in passing along the various positions of copulation she had
learned from her randy husband brought pleasure to the women and they
enjoyed the benefit of attracting more attention from braves other than
their husbands when there was little danger of being discovered.

   Even now, the lucky Frenchman was pounding Margaret -(TM)s pretty bottom
with an enthusiastic shaft and the other wives were jealous of his panting
pleasure sounds when all they heard from their men was the deep steady
snores of total disinterest.

   The white captive didn -(TM)t object when the older Frenchman woke her
sometime after midnight and treated her to French style loving that
emphasized the use of the tongue as the primary instrument of love-making.
The Indian culture frowned on such icing on the cake and was more
interested in basic  -�get in the right place -� and pump until you hit pay
dirt.  She didn -(TM)t mind that sort of technique as well because it was
nice to know where you were headed when push came to shove.  He talked to
her in English for some length to inform her about the program to bring the
American white women to the North for the purpose of  -�breeding -� a new
generation of hunters and farmers to tame the big land.  The more he
explained, the more it sounded like another form of servitude, only with
less rewards.  Apparently, the European males were not at all satisfied
with the Indian females because they seldom expressed any emotion even when
their partners were at the height of their passion and expecting some sort
of response to show appreciation for their efforts.

   A raiding party left the camp the following morning to follow the river
south looking for isolated farms and camps with female residents.  Their
method of attack was simple.  They would kill all the males and take their
scalps for the totem poles and take the women back to the camp for
transport to the North Country.  That first raiding party took women as
young as sixteen and as old as fifty because they were getting paid for the
total numbers and not for beauty or obedient attitudes.  They stuck
Margaret and the older white captive in with their line of prisoners to
increase their rewards.  The trek north was arduous and they actually lost
two of the white women to a waterfall with slippery rocks.  Margaret was
careful to stay away from any risk and was content to just wait and see
what the future would hold.  The Frenchman told her that he would  -�bid -�
for her but had no confidence his limited resources would win her contract
for marriage.  She didn -(TM)t have any feeling one way or the other
because he was old enough to be her father and she knew he had some sort of
breathing sickness that would probably put him under the sod within the
year.  She was tempted to warn him about his medical condition but
refrained because she knew from past experience that the messenger often
was castigated for honesty.

   They were to stop at three  -�auction -� towns along the way after they
passed the waterfall.

   The first bidding auction was a wild affair with lots of booze and
whores brought in by the trading company to keep the non-winners happy and
on the trail of pelts and good bottom land.  She didn -(TM)t get any bids
at that auction because the interest was entirely in the real young
females. A small group of teenaged captives huddled together prepared to be
shipped to some island off the coast that was almost devoid of female
population.  Apparently, there were over one hundred males in need of
female company and the five girls were being sent to fill the void by being
passed around to a string of admirers.  The odds of twenty men for each
girl was way past their ability to function without a sense of being
nothing less than a prostitute for their group and most of the men simply
wanted to use the girls to satisfy their urge to bury their private parts
inside a female deposit vault for seed-bearing cream.

   Margaret could easily understand how the girls considered their duties
to be nothing less than unpaid servitude to gratify male needs of
copulation and that their work would make old women of them far before
their time.  In fact, one of the girls committed suicide by jumping from a
high cliff the very first week and the remaining four girls simply had to
take up the slack with her assigned quota of males.

   It was almost two winters later that Margaret found out none of the
girls sent to that island survived but she was told it was due to an
unfortunate sickness and not due to foul play.

   The second town scheduled for an auction bid was originally a well-armed
fort that saw fighting in the French and Indian wars and even a little
action in the American Revolution.  The Indian tribes located there were a
lazy bunch interested more in the white man -(TM)s bottles of booze than in
working the trap lines and making money for the trading company.  The
Indian females made most of the income by humping like rabbits after the
sun went down and charging very little for each episode of violent seed
casting wherever they managed to find an opening and an obedient bottom to
bring them a happy ending.  Margaret could see that particular tribe was
doomed to extinction because they used practically no hygiene and were
addicted to the strong booze that made them spend their lives in a drunken
stupor.  They were not at all like the warrior clans to the south that
still fought the Cavalry with a spirit that refused to face the truth of
inevitable defeat.

   It was there in that chaotic place that she was able to steal a handgun
with a broken sight and a crack in the butt that split the fist-fitting
portion in two.  She knew that neither problem would detract from the
actual firing of the weapon and tied it on a long strip of leather to hang
between her legs like some unsuspected penis that ejected death in lead
form instead of sperm to fill a female -(TM)s empty cavity.

   She did get two bids there but they were rejected by her owner broker as
too low.  He was smart enough to understand she was prime fucking material
and that the bids were for far less desirable females.  The old Frenchman
almost made a bit but he knew it was not enough to win the day and waited
for the last auction bidding location.

   The last location was near the railhead that was bringing in new
settlers from overseas.  Most of them did not even speak English or French
and they had no interest of contracting a female when the future seemed so
wildly improbable in the chaotic land.  It was an English gentleman that
made a generous bid for her in the last location and she saw the Frenchman
pack up his gear and board the train for a trip back to borrow some funds
from his distant relatives and perhaps even find a female willing to make
the return trip and eliminate the need to purchase a bedmate for life.

   Margaret saw a pair of Indians she thought she recognized in that last
location and it was only later that she realized they were from that tribe
that had visited the capturing Indian tribe.  One of those Indians had
mounted her more than once that night and she remembered he had male
equipment that made most men seem inadequate.  She was uncomfortable about
the way they were looking at her but since her alternative was a life of
servitude in a place she was certain she would probably hate, she kept her
mouth shut and waited to see what the future would hold.



   Chapter 4

   The captive long hair soldier girl known as  -�Badger Girl -� because of
her long duration blackened eyes from serious training received at the
hands of her captors knew that the last  -�auction -� location for the sale
of the female prisoners would be her best opportunity at escape if she
could only find a fast horse to carry her to safety.

   Badger Girl -(TM)s real name was Margaret Hatcher and she was the widow
of a cavalry captain slain at the burning of Fort McDonald down below the
existing border.  She had no real sense of grief over her loss because the
captain was a rough sort of fellow that valued his whiskey and his cards a
lot more than his acquired by contract wife.  Margaret had not been wooed
or romanced before the wedding and she received precious little love after
she had the ring on her finger.  She knew that the sly officer married her
for the express purpose of enhancing his chances of promotion in a
wilderness posting where a pretty face would be an asset in any social
setting.

   The Indian tribe that had captured her did not want to lose her because
she had made some valuable contributions to the smooth operation of their
borderline existence.  They were forced to do so because they were being
driven from the land due to lack of a steady food supply and the fact that
the centralized government back in the east had decided the  -�Indian
Problem -� needed to be settled once and for all.  That spelled extinction
for the native population and it was beginning to look like they would all
be forced to re-locate in the north just to continue their struggle for
survival.  The sale of Badger Girl would give them some much-needed funds
to buy the supplies they needed for the journey.

   They had reluctantly turned her over to the French brokers for transport
to the auction locations for sale of female prisoners much needed in the
north for common labor and to assume nocturnal duties servicing the male
needs for female companionship.

   Most of the female slaves would probably not last five years even in the
best possible circumstances but Margaret was determined she would survive
long enough to get a fast horse and find her future in another direction.

   She already had a handgun hidden in her folds of clothing and she was
long noted at the Fort as a fine shot and a skilled horsewoman able to
adapt to almost any situation.

   The Frenchman that had transported her had a desire to purchase her for
his own needs but was short of funds to win the bid.  He had returned to
his settlement to borrow the cash needed and she was uncertain if he would
ever return to buy her and seal her by marriage and the realization she had
no other option.

   Margaret had noticed at the last auction location that some of the
Indians were a visiting tribe that had taken advantage of her nocturnal
services as guests of her captors.  She recognized the young brave that had
mounted her no less than three times than night and she remembered the size
of his manly equipment being the largest she had ever encountered with a
fond memory.  She knew that he had recognized her and his group seemed
excited to see her in this situation.  Strangely, she saw the circumstances
as being to her advantage because she knew that tribe was well-respected in
the Indian Territory and the warriors were feared by all sides because of
their bravery in battle.

   The prospect of being sold to either the French or the British
settlements in the north was tantamount to a death sentence simply because
of the lopsided ratio of men to women and that she would be required to
service at least twenty needy males on a nightly basis just to meet the
minimal requirements of after-hours nocturnal duties.  Most of the slave
women sent to those settlements didn -(TM)t last long because they were
physically and mentally exhausted in just a few short years.

   They had started this trek with almost fifty female slaves and now at
the last stop there were only a dozen left with her in that select group.
Most of the remaining women were young and attractive because the brokers
wanted a bonus in the sale price for beauty and stamina.  Margaret knew she
was a premium catch for some buyer and would be expected to work tirelessly
to return their investment.  Most women would be daunted by the desperation
that future would entail, but she was resigned to her fate and only bided
her time until an opportunity arose for her to escape.

   Late that night before the final sale of the season, she was awakened in
her sleep by a hand over her mouth.

   She recognized the Indians from the visiting tribe and she surmised
immediately that they were trying to steal several of the remaining
hostages from the French slave traders before the final sale in the
morning. Apparently, she was to be included in their taking and considering
the future in front of her with the French or British settlers in the north
country, it was the devil you know vs the devil unknown and she kept her
mouth shut just like the other women that had little care in their hopeless
situation.

   They had several fast moving canoes hidden under branches at the
shoreline and with very little noise; they silently pushed out into the
fast moving water heading back south to the Pacific Northwest Territory. 
The big buck that had used her repeatedly back at the camp of her captors
was squatting down on top of her flustered flanks making her nervous about
the state of his hardness on her sensitive rump.  They were completely
immersed in the act of escaping and there was not time for such foolishness
and she was grateful of that fact because her heart was beating so fast
that she thought it might burst.

   The camp was still quiet as they slipped down the river under the light
of the harvest moon that hung low and illuminated their path.  She
estimated that they had taken only four females and had one in each canoe.

   The lead canoe was loaded with two extra braves besides the pair that
were paddling.  They had their loaded rifles at the ready just in case they
were challenged during their escape from the slave trader -(TM)s camp.

   They all moved under the shelter of some covering deep canopied trees
just before the river split into two directions and she figured they were
fearful of a pursuit that might catch up with them because the French had
some fast boats that used an eight man crew to paddle in unison.  It was
shortly before noon or when the sun was at its zenith with no shadows
showing anywhere on the ground that they heard rather than saw the fast
boats moving down the river.

   Margaret was fascinated at their moment of indecision at the split in
the river and then was surprised to see them head to the channel on the
left to continue their chase.  She realized that the sly Indians had paused
here purposely to see which way the pursuers would take and then they would
quickly board the canoes and head down the other channel.

   They paddled like madmen for what seemed like a long time but in reality
it was only about an hour.  When they were more than three bends of the
river down the other channel, the Indians started smiling and she knew they
were joyous because they felt they had fooled the Frenchmen and gotten away
clean.

   Rain clouds started to move up from the west and a light rain started
that threatened to swamp the canoes if they did not cup their hands and
scoop the water over the side.  Eventually, the lead canoe swung into a
side channel and they hid the canoes under low hanging branches that
covered them most effectively.  One of the Indians wanted to take the
canoes out of the water and turn them over in case it started to rain more
heavily.  He was outvoted because the others wanted the option of being
able to jump into their mode of escape and get underway without any delay.

   There was no sign of the French slavers and Margaret relaxed asking
permission to bathe in the side channel.  Her seemingly attached brave with
the huge masculine equipment went with her and watched the woods with a
loaded rifle in case they were surprised by the other group.  It didn
-(TM)t bother her to get jaybird naked in front of the savage because he
had already seen and sampled everything she had in the way of feminine
wiles and it was unlikely he would let down his guard in the middle of an
escape to satisfy his base urges.  Just like most of the savage Indian
tribes, he place a far greater value on survival than on pleasuring his
desires with some captured white woman that was not to be trusted like a
woman of his own blood.

   Margaret pulled off the petticoats and used the sharp knife to trim
several inches from the bottom of the dress the Frenchman had given her for
the journey.  It would allow her to move faster though the woods if they
ever got away from the water and headed out across country to the location
of the village.

   The sound of a mounted column made them all take cover in the brush and
they watched a unit of the British Cavalry moving with some speed to the
north apparently with the intent to instruct the French interlopers that
they were out of their territory and needed to respect the land of the King
or face the consequences.  At that time, it was well known that the French
outnumbered the British in certain areas and that they were keenly
interested in moving into the Ohio River Valley and the Mississippi River
Valley to stop the western expansion of the new American nation all the way
out to the Pacific Ocean.  All of this was to change shortly with the
advent of the Louisiana Purchase and the recognition in Paris that they
were hard-pressed to protect their European interests much less expand out
to the new world in a search for the dream of a  -�New France -� in the
wilderness.

   After two full days of travel, they came to a promontory point and sunk
all the canoes in a specified location for future use.

   They all struck out almost at a run into the woodlands heading to their
final destination.  Her Indian with the name of Jumping Eagle tied his
wrist to hers with a thin strand of rawhide and she knew it was more
because he wanted her to stay close for safety rather than concern about
her running away.  In point of fact, it would be foolish to run away in
this situation because the woods were filled with predator beasts of both
the four-legged variety and the two-legged variety.

   The Indians bedded down in a partially hidden depression in the
landscape that allowed them to see in every direction but hid them from
casual observers as far as the eye could see.

   Jumping Eagle pulled her down next to him and she knew he was relaxed
enough now to take his spoils and it was time for her pay his price of
total submission.  Since she had already been taken by him already by the
usual missionary position and also from behind like the way the Indian
women prefer, she was not in the least bit upset.

   His size was just as she remembered and she held it gently approving of
the hardness and the lubrication he was already broadcasting in
anticipation of dipping deep inside her pussy pie.

   The other women were excited and frightened because they were also being
used by the braves to bolster their manly experience.

   Margaret looked to the side and saw a pretty former slave girl being
taken from behind by one of their captors and she saw that the girl was
more than willing to give up her female dignity in exchange for the nice
tingle she would receive when the brace finally grunted and presented her
with his present of creamy Indian male seed.

   Her brave was pounding her rather hard now and she looked over her
shoulder at him looking for a sign of his approaching ejaculation.  That
certain look was in his eyes in the moonlight and she tightened her grip
with her vaginal muscles around the brave -(TM)s joyful cock and heard him
groan like a man on fire for flooding her female cave with his seed in a
way that she would remember for a very long time.

   She wondered how far they were from the Indian village but was far too
smart to ask for fear of being thought disrespectful and earning a biting
switch across her rump to punish her for her lack of proper female behavior
at all times.



   Chapter 5

   When she opened her sleepy eyes just before daylight the next morning,
the captive white girl Margaret was bothered by the fact that it was so
deathly quiet all around her in every direction.  She didn -(TM)t even hear
the measured breathing of her captors or any of the other women they had
stolen from the French traders looking to make a nice profit on the sale of
the remaining white women.

   She could still see the stars shining down from the blackened sky and
the faint rays of daybreak off to the east where the Sun always started to
brighten into daylight.

   When she heard the sound of the birds in the woods nearby, she knew
right away they were not birds but two-legged hunters signaling their
compatriots that they had discovered the hiding place of the bold tribe
that had stolen the women right out from under their noses.

   She was naked under the thin covering of some kind of animal hide but
there was no sign of the brave that had poked her good and proper just
before she had given into sleep so deeply that her breast barely moved
visibly to a casual observer.

   Her hidden handgun was still buried under the pile of clothing under her
head and she grasped it knowing she only had two bullets for the thing and
she was saving them for only the direst emergency to save her life.

   They had not made any campfire to stay hidden in the tall grass and she
could barely make out the outline of their canoes resting in the shallow
water for them to make their getaway as quickly as possible.  Since she did
not hear any other noise from the remaining captives, her assumption was
that they had their throats cut to prevent them from crying out and
alerting their pursuers that they were hidden in the grass.  She figured
her brave was obliged to do the same but for some reason he had reneged on
his duty and slid away into the woods with the other braves to fight
another day.  That meant she was the only living person to meet up with the
surrounding captors and she knew it meant a beating for sure just for her
being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

   There was more daylight now and she saw the forms of the French and
their Indian partners in crime searching the canoes for anything of value.
They had probably already found the other women sapped of life and thought
her to be in the same category as the murdered females.  She entertained
the thought of pretending to be dead and hope that the Indians didn -(TM)t
want to take the long women -(TM)s hair as trophies of their expedition. 
It was about a fifty-fifty proposition and the odds made it worthwhile for
a least a try.

   She saw them put holes in the canoes used in the escape so that the
other tribe could not swing back and use them to go further up-river.  Then
they tossed burning sticks into what remained of the camp and she had to
covertly slide out of the way of danger from the fire and watched them
paddling away to return to the French settlement and the safety of the Fort
-(TM)s walls.

   Margaret knew there were British patrols out also in the wilderness and
she thought it best to take her chances by continuing on her own rather
that chance the British, the French or the savage tribes that wandered
hither and yon surviving as they always had by using their wits and staying
hidden when they were outnumbered by their enemies.

   She thought about the brave -(TM)s huge cock and the fact that he seemed
to be taken with her in a way unusual for the heathen out in the
wilderness. For all she knew, he could have a wife and little ones back in
his home camp or relatives that thought all white women were a bunch of
dirty sluts that opened their legs for anyone with enough coins to pay
their fee for loving.

   The first thing she did was to search the bodies of the murdered women
for any articles of clothing or shoes she could use to back up her meager
supply of female clothing available to her after her period of captivity.
She found one woman -(TM)s bundle contained several pairs of clean bloomers
that were like finding gold nuggets to a lone white woman in the
wilderness. One woman had hidden some gold coins in her shoe and she took
them as well as the shoes because they fit her feet although one of them
had a fairly large hole in the sole of one shoe.  A layer of leather should
solve that problem without any difficulty and she had a great pair of shoes
to back up her worn-out pair that was ready for the trash heap and that was
a fact.

   She pulled one of the canoes up from beneath the surface of the water
and discovered that the holes were not that bad that they could not be
repaired.  Her only problem was that the canoe was a bit too big for her to
paddle on her own and she needed at least one other person to keep it on a
straight course in the fast moving river.  Besides she didn -(TM)t think it
was a good idea to stay with the river because she could hear the sound of
the falls up ahead and she would have to carry the canoe on her shoulders
to portage around the swift water to re-enter the river above the steep
drop to the rocks below.

   There was a deer trail of sorts that ran adjacent to the river -(TM)s
edge and she figured it was safe enough for her to follow at least for a
short distance until she could get far enough away from the camp to
consider herself safe from re-capture by the same band of hostiles.

   She followed the trail stopping now and then to pick blackberries that
grew wild in abundance along the side of the trail.

   Margaret stepped in bear shit picking the berries and it made her grab
hold of her tiny handgun just in case.  It was not much of a defense but it
made her feel better and she promised that she would liberate a long gun as
quickly as possible to arm herself properly for a journey to the northwest.
The bear droppings were sufficient warning for her to stay on her toes and
not let down her guard for an instant because danger was all around her.

   Northwest was the only direction that she felt secure in following
because she was literally surrounded by enemies in every other direction
and she did not feel safe.

   That night she shivered missing the warmth of the brave -(TM)s body
protecting her from the chill of the cold night air.  Strange that the only
use she could think of for a male body was the warmth it might give her to
keep her warm at night.  Even the promise of a good poking by a stiff shaft
was not on her list of things to do as she did her best to survive to see
another day and not be a captive.

   About ten kilometers up-river past the falls, she thought she heard the
sound of a large group of men or animals and she left the trail to hid in
the deep brush not knowing if the noise represented saving or life in
captivity in some hovel with pain as her reward for being found.

   The noise turned out to be a large pack of wild hogs rooting for food
and tearing up the brush in the process.  She had gone up a high tree just
to be on the safe side and it turned out to be the thing that helped save
her bacon yet again.

   She saw the dirty things savagely tearing up the ground looking for nuts
and berries and she saw them looking around for her because she knew they
had her scent but they never once looked up because it was not in their
nature to do so.  They loved being low to the ground and hiding in the tall
grass when they were stalking their prey.

   Margaret waited for a long time after she didn -(TM)t hear them any
longer before she came down from the tree and she returned to the trail to
make some distance before night fell.

   Eventually, she came out of the lowlands and she started to walk uphill
because she was in the foothills of a long mountain range ahead.  The
weather started to change and she longed for the animal skins that the
Indians always seemed to have plenty of in their camps to ward off the
cold.

   As she rounded a bend in a mountain trail, she came upon a dead jackass
with steam still rising from the recently expired body.  She didn -(TM)t
see any arrows or other bullet holes in the beast and she figured it had
died from natural causes or some internal problem such beasts of burden
often suffered in silence.

   A noise to her left caused her to look for an exit in a panic but it was
too late and the man hiding in the rocks came out and looked her over with
a telling eye.  She hoped it wasn -(TM)t that he was evaluating her worth
at a slave market but one never knew out on the trail in the middle of the
wilderness with all sorts of evil bastards walking around without any
supervision of their nasty ways.

   It was too late to reach for her handgun and even that was dubious
because she would have to load it first.  Besides, she only had the two
bullets and her aim was not all that good with a handgun.  She was much
better with a Pennsylvania long rifle but hadn -(TM)t found one yet.

    -�Calm down, little darling!  Were you following me?  No, probably not
because I don -(TM)t even know where I am.  My name is Carson.  My friends
call me Kit.  Are you alone or have you gotten split from your wagon train?
-�

   Margaret was mystified by the man -(TM)s easy-going attitude.  There was
nothing about him to suggest any of the usual macho man mean-spirited
characters that she had been coming into contact with lately.  He moved
down from the rocks and she saw he had a large dog with him with the
whitest teeth she had ever seen on any animal.  His tail was wagging but
she was still on guard because the dogs in the Indian camps were generally
always hungry and a girl -(TM)s arm was a good place to find an appetizer.

   The tall man was dressed all in buckskin and had a long rifle just like
the one she longed to have for her very own.

   Margaret knew that he must have deduced she had recently been a captive
to the Indians because of her hair and her clothing and the darkness of her
skin that was outdoors more than inside and exposed to the harsh weather.

    -�Do you want some of my jerky, little Miss?  You look a mite peaked
and worn to a frazzle I do declare.  I guess you have been in some tight
places lately and need a little rest to get your color back. -�

   Margaret had to smile at the man -(TM)s words because if she had a
mirror she knew her image would have scared little children to hide behind
their mother -(TM)s skirts.

    -�Thank you kindly, sir, I would rightly appreciate a taste if you don
-(TM)t mind sharing. -�

   She figured him to be well over six feet tall and he was bulked out
above the waistline with lots of muscle to spare.

    -�I see you got a gander at my old Rosie there.  She was a good
packhorse but her heart must have given out with the loads she has been
carrying lately. -�

   The long haired soldier girl looked ruefully at the dead animal in the
middle of the road and saw that the scout had placed the packhorse -(TM)s
load in the rocks and she could tell from the size that the weight must
have been too much for the poor thing to survive the steepness of the climb
uphill.

   Up ahead she saw the remainder of the man -(TM)s mule train.  There had
to be almost two dozen of the creatures carrying heavy loads of supplies to
unknown settlers and adventurers in the wastelands of the sparsely
populated region.

   He showed her his camp watching the dog make himself right to home and
promptly falling asleep next to the campfire in the rocks.  A pair of
ancient Indian men unloaded the mules and got their bedding next to the
fire as well in the rocky terrain not saying a single word but looking her
over like she was a horse for sale.

   Kit made a place for her to put her head and she noticed that it was
right next to his bedding not far from the fire.  It she was any judge of
the situation, she would have bet a dollar to a doughnut that she would be
warm this night wrapped in the arms of a tall mountain man with just the
sort of equipment that she needed to get her in the mood for loving.



   Chapter 6

   Margaret was down on all fours not far from the fire.  The mountain man
called Kit was a dead weight on her tail bone and he was humping her about
as hard as she had been humped by a non-Indian male to the best of her
recollection.

   His juice flooded her down below giving her the energy she needed to
fall asleep and charge up her battered body for the trials and tribulations
of the next day -(TM)s stress.  She was unable to see it in the dark, but
his cock must have been overly large because her womanhood was stretched in
an unusual manner, and she had that sense of fullness in her posterior that
generally came from the need to take a dump out of sight of any other
humans in close proximity.  He had accidently gone in the wrong entrance in
his haste to pump her full of his mountain man joy-juice, but thankfully
had retreated to the correct female entrance with a single word of apology
for his error.

   Truthfully, she missed the anal fun her husband at given her with his
drunken orgies at the Fort.  Her experience with the Indians was that they
carefully stayed away from rear door sex because of some superstition about
posterior loving that came from so long ago nobody remembered where it came
from.  She had always been a bit partial to it because it made her feel
like she was being bad and that gave her an edge over the males that seemed
to find it desirable enough to beg her to grant them her anal favors for
extra food or gifts to make her more receptive to their advances.

   She remembered the Frenchman was addicted to the anal fun and games and
she enjoyed being his receptacle for his copious spunk in the dark of
night.

   Margaret was sad the Frenchman lost his chance of owning her at the
auction, but she put it down to fate and accepted it because she had other
plans than being a slave for the rest of her life.

   The mountain man -(TM)s retinue was haphazard to say the least but they
were loyal to the core.  The former slaves worked willingly and shared in
his profits when he sold his furs.  She knew she was the new female in his
bed and they put up with her because they were not sure how long she would
be around the camp because things were constantly changing.  Kit gave her a
pony of her own.

   It was one of the Indian small horses.

   She called him Randy.

   It was an inside joke to her because she had nicknamed her husband
-(TM)s dick  -�Randy -� because all the females at the Fort would use the
term to describe any soldier with a need to use his cock for sexual
relations.  In the military lifestyle, that was a scenario that was more
frequent than rare, and she was constantly aroused by the feel of the pony
-(TM)s muscles between her legs as she rode him bareback without a saddle.
In the Indian world, saddles were a luxury and a nuisance used only by the
white people and an added unnecessary weight on their horse -(TM)s back at
a time when speed was the difference between life and death.

   She still had her hide-out gun hidden underneath her clothing, but she
only had the two rounds for it.  It they got to a town, the first thing she
would do would be to buy spare ammo for the gun that she cleaned every
night before going to sleep.  The mountain man also gave her a spare 
-�buffalo -� gun that was used to take down the huge animals one at a time
using only one bullet in the right spot right behind their hairy ears.

   Margaret knew the time of the buffalo had passed but the Indians refused
to leave their timeless hunting grounds from the force of sheer habit. 
Their way of life was changing rapidly, and they blamed the invasion of
white settlers for their worsening conditions.

   She considered the possibility of moving along on her own, but she felt
a bond of loyalty to the mountain man because he had been more than fair
with her, and she liked him despite his advanced years and cranky ways. 
She coupled with him a few times, but she could tell he was ashamed of his
inability to get it up for proper copulation, and he told her point blank
all he wanted to do was just relax and have a normal conversation.

   They cut trail on other trappers late the next day and Kit told her, 
-�They are having a big pow wow down by the fork of the rivers and we
should probably head there because there will be buyers for our skins as
certain as the Sun will come up with each new day. -�

   She thought there might be a chance of getting one of the younger
mountain men to hump her with a proper attitude and she went to the river
to primp up her hair and other feminine parts to encourage some action of
the carnal variety.  Kit knew what she was doing but he didn -(TM)t care
because he was unable to function in that way any longer and he wanted her
to have a good time.

   They came up on the encampment suddenly on the far side of the fast
rushing river.  Kit told her they had to go down river about a mile to
reach a less stressful fording place and she was all in favor of that
caution because her swimming ability was severely lacking.

   They lost another pack animal on that same afternoon and had to
redistribute the furs on the remaining animals for their final leg of the
journey to the mountain man jamboree.  She noticed right away that there
were several Indian camps nearby and the Indian females were doing their
best to attract the men to their beds to make money the old fashioned way
on their backs.  She looked carefully, but did not see any white women in
any corner and figured it was too far back in the forest for them to travel
even if the pickings were lucrative for them to make a bundle of coins
during the two day period.

   Her white skin attracted notice and she received several offers of hard
cash for spreading her legs for their pleasure.  She was friendly but
declined because she was more interested in finding a young man with a hard
dick than in making money she couldn -(TM)t spend out in the wilderness.

   She saw two Canadian mounted policemen in their red uniforms and spotted
a tall young man watching the festivities as if looking for trouble to
begin right in front of his eyes.

   Margaret left Kit to his selling devices and headed over to the Canadian
camp and swished her skirts in the young man -(TM)s direction with a bright
smile and a promise in her blue eyes that he would find it impossible to
decline.

    -�How do you do, Mrs.  Are you thinking of relocating to the Northern
regions? -�

   Margaret figured the young man was uncertain if she was white or mixed
blood and was merely pumping her for information.  She pretended interest
in his area of responsibility and asked him several questions about the
conditions in the mostly wilderness area.

   She discovered his name was Donald and his last name was Donald as well.
That was easy for her to remember and soon she found herself looking over
her shoulder at the lad riding her back and calling him  -�Mister Donald -�
as he filled her up with his Canadian bacon and playfully spanked her bare
white cheeks.  It was the best time she had since being taken from the
Fort. No longer a fresh widow in the wilderness and a slave to savages as
well.

   Donald gave her exact directions on how to find his station and promised
her steady cock if she should decide to join him on his remote assignment
in the rural area.

   It was a tempting proposition but Margaret wanted to explore the world a
bit more before she settled down under a man -(TM)s wing once again.

   After considering her options, the former slave captive decided that
this was an opportunity that she should not pass up because as a single
woman she had to be cautious about any relationships she might get caught
up into on the spur of the moment.

   She started heading West instead of North because she knew the white
settlers were much more populous in that direction and she wanted to avoid
the Indian territory where things were a lot riskier to her health.

   One of the items she purchased at the jamboree was a small metal mirror
that she used often now to take better care of her facial features and her
hair.  Her skin was deeply tanned now, and she had lost the white pallor
that she had back at the Fort.  The harsh conditions had caused her to lose
most of her fat cells and she looked trim and lean like a young lad out on
a trek in the wilderness.

   She came upon a large wagon train party of well over one hundred wagons
heading West and the guides allowed her entrance into their circle because
she was white and a female as well.  Since she was well armed, the fact was
that it added another shooter to defend the wagon train and that was more
important than her not being male.

   A line of mounted troopers rode through their camp warning them to stay
on the alert because a war party of renegade Indians had jumped the
reservation and were out scouting for scalps in the area.

   Margaret hooked up with a family of four in a large wagon.  The husband
had drowned crossing a river the previous month and the surviving spouse
and three female daughters were all doing their best to stay with the train
even though several of the wives wanted them cast out because the girls
were all pretty and had a loose attitude about having sex with their roving
husbands looking for young pussy right at home.

   The oldest girl was attracted to the muscular Margaret, and she made no
secret of the fact that she wanted the older widow to bed down with her in
her corner of the wagon.  The mother was frowning at her daughter -(TM)s
naughty attitude and the two other sisters were giggling to beat the band
as they watched their Sally undress and crawl into the sack with Margaret
like they were a pair of twin sisters.

   The former slave girl would have preferred a nice young boy, but she was
fine with Sally because she appeared to be sincere and lacked deviousness
in anything she said or did.

   She allowed the young girl to take the lead and just laid back and
enjoyed the night of pleasure with the other women around them fast asleep.




   7