Night was coming on fast and Fallon decided it was time to start looking for
some shelter. A small arroyo or cut-back by a stream-bed would be perfect.
Something to get him out of the cold desert wind that blows at night. He
dismounted and crept to the top of a small rise, being careful not to present a
silhouette on the ridge line. He was surveying the vista and smelled it at the
same time he saw it. Burning wood. Far to his left was the faintest trail of
gray smoke rising into the gray sky. He was lucky to even see it; another few
minutes and it would be lost in the darkness. Fallon hoped it was a cabin. He
liked the idea of sitting on a real chair for a few hours instead of his horse.
And the thought of maybe sleeping under a roof, in front of a fire brought a
smile to his face. He didn't remember any pilgrims in the area the last time he
passed this way and it sure wasn't farming country but that didn't mean some
optimistic miner couldn't be trying his hand at prospecting. He just hoped it
wasn't some loco who only wanted the coyotes and Apaches for neighbors. He'd be
lucky to get a `hello' and `goodbye' from such unfriendly types. No, Fallon was
hoping it was some lonely miner, who would be happy to share his roof and beans
and fire for the night in exchange for some palaver. Although no true test, the
rest of the area looked deserted, so Fallon remounted and headed off in the
direction of the smoke. Now dark, he refrained from lighting a cigar and just
watched the terrain carefully. Riding into the wind, down and up, over the
rolling country, Fallon could smell the wood smoke getting stronger with each
step. And with each step it smelled less like a homey fire in a stone hearth and
more like trouble. Noiselessly, Fallon slid his well-used Henry rifle from its
soft leather scabbard and rested his thumb on the hammer. Cresting the next
ridge, Fallon saw that he was right -- it was trouble -- but not his. Before him
was the remains of someone's Conestoga wagon and their belongings. Most of the
wagon was gone, burned down to a pile of glowing ashes and the metal rims from
the wheels. There were pots and pans and the metal parts of tools scattered
around and some clothes, no more than scorched rags, now. The Apaches had taken
all they wanted and burned the rest. There wouldn't be anything useful left.
Disappointed that it hadn't been a cabin with a pot of stew on the fire, Fallon
nudged his horse on, circling the wreckage. With a sharp jerk he reined the
horse to a stop and sat in shock at the sight before him. On the ground, naked
and staked at her wrists and ankles was a blonde woman. The first woman Fallon
had seen in over three weeks. He blinked to make sure he wasn't seeing things.
Fallon scanned the area around him, again, and then looked down at the woman.
Her face was turned away from him, but even in the moonlight Fallon could see
the damage the sun had done to the skin normally covered with clothes. Her
breasts were large and soft looking but smudged with dirt, as were her stomach
and hips. Her blonde pubic hair was plastered and pressed flat and the insides
of her white thighs were dirty. Fallon could see her chest rise and fall with
her breathing. "Ma'am?" She jerked her head around and popped her eyes open to
stare at Fallon. "Oh! A white man! Thank the Lord! You are a white man! I
thought the savages had returned. Praise be!" Fallon noticed she was fairly
young and maybe would even be more than just pretty, in a different situation.
"Yes, Ma'am, I am a white man. What happened to you?" The woman looked up at
Fallon and began talking. She talked with one sentence rolling over the next,
with one word flowing in to all the rest of the words. Barely taking a breath,
she shot through her story with a rhythm that reminded Fallon of a Gatling gun.
"Well, Mister, everything was fine and dandy this morning. We -- my husband,
Joshua, and my children Matthew, Lucas, Melody, and Charity -- were in a wagon
train -- Mr. Jed Fuller's? -- on the way out to California. Right after we got
underway this morning, we were attacked by hundreds of savages. Joshua -- well,
not just Joshua, a lot of wagons -- panicked and whipped the horses to run their
legs off. When we finally stopped, we were lost and alone. We had no idea where
anyone else was or if they were even alive. We didn't know where we were so we
just kept on going. "We soon got to a river, but we had to stop because it was
too deep and running too fast to cross. There were a lot of rocks and rapids.
Joshua turned us upstream in the hopes of finding a safe fording place. When we
finally found one, Joshua and Matthew led the team. We were almost in the middle
of the river when the lead horses bucked and Joshua and Matthew were toppled
over and into the deeper water. We saw them fighting the current and heard them
yelling, and then they went under and none of us saw them come up, again. They
were gone! My husband and my son! Gone! "We looked and waited, but they were
gone. My other son, Lucas, found their bodies downstream -- all battered and
bloody - - and we buried them there as best we could. We went further upstream
and made it across the river and started up a long hill. One of the horses
stumbled and broke a leg. Lucas, cut him out from the team and shot him. Then,
we started down the other side, and the three horses could barely keep us from
rolling out of control, all the way to the bottom. When we crossed this plain,
the horses refused to start up that hill over there and we decided to rest them
for the night. "That's when the wolves came. A whole, big pack of them. They
must have found the dead horse, because they had blood all over their fur. Poor
little Lucas was sitting on one of the horses when the wolves came running over
the hill and the horses took off. And they all disappeared. Including Lucas! "Me
and the girls hid in the wagon and cried and cried. All the men folk gone and
certain the wolves would return to devour us, too! "But we were wrong. Instead
of a pack of wolves, a pack of painted savages appeared. I fired the pistol, but
I didn't hit any of them. They rode right up to us and grabbed my girls away
from me! Melody is 10 and Charity is only 8. Two Indians put my babies over
their horses and sped away. "The eight savages that were left ignored me as they
picked through every item in this wagon; eating all the food and drinking all
the cider and water. When they were satisfied, they ripped my clothes off me and
tied me down like this -- and then, one after the other, they violated me. Some,
more than once! "I begged them to kill me. So I wouldn't suffer their abuse. A
white woman being ravaged by drunk, laughing, red savages. I never heard them
utter one word of English the whole time. Finally, when they were all done with
me, and could no longer mistreat me, they got on their ponies and rode away,
whooping and hollering. "They left me in the desert sun to die. "And then, thank
the Lord, you come along." ...... Fallon eased the Henry back into the scabbard.
He slid off the horse and looked down on the woman. Her skin glowed in the
moonlight. The marks on her round breasts and open pubis where she was ravaged
and raped were obvious. He moved closer to her. He thought about what she had
been through in one day. Losing a husband, four children, all her earthly
belongings and her respectable womanhood. It was more than you could expect one
person to take. He dropped his chaps and pants and pulled his hard cock from out
of his stained long johns. He knelt between her spread legs and spit on his
prick's knobby head. He had been wrong -- for once, the Apaches had left
something useful behind. The woman looked up at him in surprise, with large
round eyes and he sadly informed her -- "Well, Ma'am, this sure ain't been your
day."
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