Sarah's Playmates (9 page)

“No, of course not.”

“They killed your fiancé. They killed all
those people on the train.”

“You don’t need to talk me into it, Millie.
I’m with you.”

“Good.”

We wandered through the field, the wild corn
towering over us. My bare feet were filthy, and my nightgown was
torn in places and splattered with blood, but I would worry about
my appearance at another time. We had survived a train wreck and an
Indian kidnapping. Now we had to rescue one of our own. The sound
of moaning indicated which section of the field Isabelle was in,
and, as Millie and I neared, we braced ourselves. I clutched the
knife, my hand trembling.

Two bodies appeared between the stalks of
corn, illuminated by the glow of the moon. They glistened in their
nakedness, covered in perspiration. “Oh, fuck me, you dirty
heathen,” moaned Isabelle. She sat on her captor, her hips
thrusting back and forth, while his hands gripped her hips. Lush,
full breasts bounced with the movement of her body. Her head was
back, and long strands of dark hair fell all the way to her
bottom.

I glanced at Millie, who looked sternly
determined. The sight of Isabelle fornicating willingly didn’t seem
to surprise her. She held up a heavy-looking stick and indicated
silently that we should approach. The Indian was oblivious,
ensnared in the rapture of his captive. His eyes were closed, and
his mouth was slightly open.

“Oh, my! Oh…fuck me! Fuck me!” Her fingertips
dug into his belly, as she moaned. “It’s so good!” She shuddered
over him, while he uttered something, thrusting vigorously.

Millie advanced stealthily, lifting the stick
and bringing it down over his head with a crack. I cringed at her
actions, squeezing my eyes shut. A female scream shattered the
night. “Millie? Oh, my God!” Isabelle sounded breathless. “D-did
you kill him?”

“Who cares? Get your clothes on. We’re
getting outta here.”

Isabelle glanced at me, smiling slightly. Her
look revealed shame, surprise, and relief. “We can’t go back to the
train. It’s under attack.”

“We’ll take the horses and make a run for it.
Get his weapon.”

“That was a brave thing you did.” Admiration
shone in her eyes. “You’re a tough lady.”

Millie ignored the praise. “Are you
hurt?”

“N-no…I’m fine.”

“We all did what we had to do to survive. God
won’t judge us for this. I didn’t take a life. I might’ve injured
some thick skulls, but they’ll live.”

Isabelle grinned. “A white woman bested them!
That’s rich.” Her hands were on her hips. “Aren’t we a sight? We
look like something the cat spat out.” Her laughter was infectious,
considering the horrors we had suffered, and I couldn’t help
smiling.

“We’ll find a town and clean up,” said
Millie. “Get his horse.”

“I hope you don’t expect me to navigate. I’ve
the worst sense of direction. I get lost in my own house
sometimes.”

“We should hurry,” I said. “They might wake
up.”

“Exactly,” Millie agreed.

We trotted side by side through a
never-ending prairie, the grass tickling my legs. I sat astride,
heedless of the undignified and unladylike position; I was too
exhausted to care. After more than an hour, it was obvious we were
lost. Dark clouds had gathered, and the sky flashed with
lightning.

“Is that coming our way?” asked Isabelle.

“I hope not.” Millie seemed to relish being
on the horse; her expression was alert and thoughtful. Strawberry
blonde hair hung down her back, nearly touching her thighs. “This
sure is pretty country.”

“What if we get attacked by Indians again?” I
glanced around warily. “This is their territory.” We could be
ambushed at any second, for all we knew.

“Don’t make any noise, and they won’t know
we’re here,” said Isabelle.

“If you say so.” My arm ached, but at least
my forehead had stopped bleeding. I thought about Edmund. “Do you
think they killed everyone on the train?”

Millie glanced at me. “Honey, don’t fret
about it. I’m sure Edmund’s fine.”

“We should’ve gone back to the train.” Doubt
chipped away at me. Had we made a mistake?

“My brother didn’t die. I know he didn’t.”
Isabelle gazed straight ahead. “He had a pistol on him. He always
carries one.”

An uncomfortable silence filled the air, as
we thought about what we might have lost. I felt shame for enjoying
the Indian.

You did what you had to do to survive.

I guess…

I would push the memory out of my mind and
pretend it hadn’t happened.

We were at the edge of a field; our horses
had led us into a line of trees. The smell of wet earth filled my
senses. “There’s water around here.”

“The horses want to go this way. They want a
drink,” said Millie. “I could use one myself. I’m parched.”

“You don’t think the animals are going home,
do you?” Would we end up in an Indian camp?

“Don’t worry about that. We’re free now. They
can’t get us.”

“That’s a lake or something,” said Isabelle.
She slid from her horse, patting her flank. “You’re a good girl.”
She led her mare towards the water’s edge. “Looks big.”

It was a long way down without help. “Ouch.”
I stepped on something sharp.

“I’ll take her,” said Millie, reaching for my
rope. “Go wash up. Have a drink.”

“Thank you.” My modesty seemed to have
vanished, as I brought the nightgown over my head and left it on
the ground. I desperately wanted to remove the smell of the
Laughing Hawk from my person. “Omigosh, it’s cold.” I waded into
the lake, my feet encountering a soggy bottom. The humidity had
kept me in a state of constant perspiration, and it was a relief to
be able to wash off. I dunked under, wetting my hair
completely.

“I’m doing that,” said Isabelle. “I’ve never
been so dirty in my life.” My future sister-in-law joined me,
scrubbing her face vigorously. “It’s cold but wonderful.”

Millie waded out to us. “This just proves
Murphy’s Law.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s a saying. If anything can go wrong,
it usually does, at the worst possible time. The story of my
life.”

“You’re always so optimistic,” I giggled.

“It’s my unshakable sense of tragedy that
gets me through the short periods of joy,” she laughed. “It’s the
way of the Irish.”

“But what an adventure!” exclaimed Isabelle.
“The things we’ll tell our grandchildren. How many people have
survived a train wreck? How many have survived an Indian
attack?”

“We’re stuck in the middle of nowhere,” I
grumbled. “We may not survive at all.”

“We’ll do just fine,” said Millie. “A town’s
around here somewhere.”

“When my father hears of the accident, he’ll
send help.”

“What about tonight? Where will we
sleep?”

“We need to find shelter,” said Millie.
“Let’s get dressed and go. That storm sounds like it’s getting
closer.”

I trudged from the lake, ringing out my hair.
“Gosh, I’m freezing.” I snatched the nightgown off the ground.

“How’s your arm?” asked Millie.

“It’s sore, but I’ll live.” I tossed the
garment over my head, thrusting my hands through the armholes. The
wetness of my hair dampened the material instantly. “There has to
be something out here.”

Isabelle groaned. “I don’t know about
that.”

Millie flung her hair over her shoulder,
grabbing her mare’s mane. “Now I gotta get on this thing. Stirrups
would be helpful.”

“I’ll lift you, Sarah,” said Isabelle.
“You’re shorter than me.”

“Thank you.” She threaded her hands together,
and I used them as a step. “There is something about riding
bareback. It’s freeing.”

“Call it freeing all you want, but it hurts
my ass,” grumbled Isabelle.

“We’ll all be sore tomorrow,” said Millie.
“No doubt about that.”

We set out under ominous skies, the wind had
picked up, and thunder rumbled threateningly. We hadn’t been riding
for more than thirty minutes, when lights flickered in the
distance.

“There’s something up ahead!” shouted Millie,
as a clap of thunder resounded. “Head towards it!” She sat forward,
loosening the grip on the reins, and gave three quick kicks into
the horse’s side, spurring the mare into a gallop. “Heeaw! Come on
girls!”

Isabelle and I followed, racing across an
expanse of savanna that stretched on towards the horizon. Droplets
of rain lashed my face, as incandescent veins of lightning flashed
across the sky. The lights in question belonged to a small house,
situated against a backdrop of trees, whose limbs blew in the
approaching storm. Several horses were in a small coral. They
neighed and snorted at our approach.

I glanced warily at Millie. “I don’t know
about this.” Unease pricked me. Who was in the house, Indians,
bandits, or worse?

The sound of male laughter drifted to us from
an open window.

Millie dismounted and unsheathed her knife.
She looked fierce and wild, with windswept hair and torn clothing.
“I’m not afraid of a couple of men.” She had proven herself to be
formidable where they were concerned.

Isabelle tied her horse to a fence. “Let’s
get this over with. I’m tired. I’ll sleep on the floor if I have
to.”

I glanced warily at the house. “Are you sure
about this? We could find a field to sleep in.”

“Don’t worry, honey. I won’t let anything
happen to you. Come on down from that horse—”

The front door flew open, and Millie found
herself staring down the barrel of a rifle. The owner of the weapon
was dressed in trousers and a crumpled shirt; the sleeves were
folded up on each arm. His expression was hidden beneath a
wide-brim hat. “And what do we have here?” The timber in his voice
was deep and melodic.

I sat atop my horse; the thought to flee
swept through me like wildfire, but there was something familiar
about the stranger.

“We’re women seeking shelter, sir!” yelled
Millie. “We’ve survived an Indian attack…and a train wreck. Put
your gun down.”

“Put your knife down.” There were two men
behind him, holding weapons. “You sneak up on my house, and you
think I won’t protect myself?”

“We need help, sir,” said Isabelle. “We’ve
been through quite an ordeal. It would be kindly of you to let us
in and offer us food and a bed. There’s a storm coming.”

“Kindly, huh?” he laughed. “You ladies want
to share our bed, eh? I got nothin’ against that sort of thing. My
boys and I would be mighty obliged to have you fine ladies as
our…guests.”

“Ouf! These men are scoundrels, Millie! I
knew this was a bad idea.”

The stranger tipped his hat, eyeing me.
“Well, I’ll be damned. You’re that woman from the train.”

I gasped, recognizing the blackguard. “You’re
the bandit who stole my engagement ring!”

“Still sore about that, huh?” He lowered the
rifle. “You say you were attacked by Indians?”

“They sabotaged the tracks and wrecked the
train,” said Isabelle. “We were on our way to Omaha.”

“Dang, that’ll be big news.”

“Might make us look like small potatoes,”
said the man behind him.

“Oh, the law will still be lookin’ for us.
Don’t doubt that, Buck.”

“Are we gonna let these pretty women inside?”
asked a thin, blond haired man. “They look like they need help.
We’d sure be happy to help them. I know I would.”

“Don’t think for one second that any of you
will be laying one hand on me,” asserted Millie. “You won’t be
touching my ward either.”

Brack’s eyes roamed over me, pausing on my
breasts. “That’s a shame.” It was clear what he wanted to do to me,
and, remembering his kiss, my body began humming with arousal. “Let
me get you down from that horse, honey.” He handed his rifle to
Buck. Without waiting for a reply, he pulled me down and straight
into his arms. A muscled arm snaked around my back, drawing me
close.

“Stop that!” I struggled against him.

“It’s like Christmas and birthday all wrapped
up in one sexy package.” There was a hint of alcohol on his breath.
“Happy Birthday to me.”

“You let her go!” demanded Millie. “Get your
hands off her.”

“I don’t think she minds all that much.” His
eyes had yet to leave my face. I blinked at him stupidly.

“Sarah!” barked Millie. “Wake up, girl!”

“Um…” I pushed against him, feeling nothing
but muscle. “Don’t.”

Isabelle rolled her eyes. “That’ll scare him
off. Oh, fuck it!” For a lady, Isabelle’s use of language was
shocking. “I’m tired. I don’t care if they’re bandits.” She slid
from the horse. “I wouldn’t mind some whiskey, boys. Please tell me
you have some left.”

“Now there’s a woman after my own heart,”
murmured the blond man. His grin went from ear to ear, exposing a
mouth full of chipped and missing teeth. “Come on in. Make
yourselves at home. I’ll pour you a drink.”

“Well, that’s kind of you.”

Brack had yet to let go of me, and I had yet
to object, although I should. His hand drifted to my buttocks,
where he grasped my soft flesh, squeezing it gently.

“Oh!” I gasped, as a rush of tingles raced
through me.

Millie hit him. “That’s enough now!” She
smacked the side of his head.

He covered his face. “Hey!”

She grabbed my hand. “Get inside. It’s about
to rain.”

The house wasn’t bigger than a shack and
almost as rustic. There were shelves built into the walls and one
small, lumpy bed. There were bedrolls on the floor and several
bottles of whiskey. A large satchel brimmed with hidden goodies,
and I suspected these were the items stolen from train
robberies.

Isabelle downed her drink. “Oh, that’s good.
Pour some more in there, cowboy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What’s your name?”

“Jimmy.”