And squaws behave very naughty when it comes to 'handling' captured white women!
I look forward to the next episode!
Oh we will be "handled" by those squaws alright
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Custer's Little Big Horn
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
Oh we will be "handled" by those squaws alright
Oh we will be "handled" by those squaws alright
Oh dear!
They look pretty mean
Maybe you're safer with the men
Or maybe not!
I know I have been slow in composing the next episode of Custer, but this is not helping. Slow typing is not a punishable offense, you know! And, besides, how can I write if you don't leave me to it! Now untie me and let me get back to my computer, please. Come on Joan, I mean it!
Well, I might as well go find the soldiers then. No point in slipping off back to town for a stage show that isn't going to happen.
Well, I might as well go find the soldiers then. No point in slipping off back to town for a stage show that isn't going to happen.
Oh, great....thought you were already hurrying along...get Moving ... NOW!!!
Oh, I'm moving along, darlin'. Funny how y'all have been out of town one day and they've already boarded Messa's place up. What do these folks know about them Indians that they ain't letting on to the rest of us.
Right. Find cavalry.
7. The Sioux warriors advance on us from all sides, brandishing glowing red-hot-tipped firebrands drawn from the two roaring campfires. Bound naked and helpless to the wheels of the overturned buckboard, Messaline, Siss and I brace for the worst. Wragg is oblivious, having passed out.
I wince as the intense heat from a glowing firebrand, held just inches from my mounded breast, sears the crinkled goose-bumpy flesh on and around one of my nipples. On the far side of the buckboard, Messaline and Siss, threatened with much of the same, scream in terror.
As I beg for mercy, a flaming firebrand is hurled overhead onto the undercarriage behind me. The dry splintered wood quickly catches fire and is set ablaze. I feel a wave of heat on my bare back and shoulders, and hear Siss screaming that they are going to burn us alive.
The warrior standing in front of me … the glow of the roaring flames devouring the undercarriage of the buckboard behind me reflecting off the greasy war paint on his face and bare chest …seems, at last, to hear my pleas. Slowly he draws the menacing firebrand away from my left breast … but only to move it over to the right! Closer and closer, it comes … its hot tip glowing fiercely. I squirm and writhe, and tug frantically at the bonds binding my wrists to the wheel, in a desperate effort to avoid the blistering heat.
Just when I think he is about to press the burning tip into the soft flesh of my breast, he suddenly pulls the firebrand away. Startled, I look up to see that more Sioux warriors, mounted on ponies, have entered the circle of light surrounding the overturned buckboard … one of them in full feathered headdress. My warrior with the firebrand turns and, in a marked show of deference, bows his head toward the newly arrived chieftain.
At the chieftain's side is a tall warrior, wearing a blue cavalryman's jacket ... open in front and sleeves cut away ... and an old yellow hat. He dismounts and shouts at the braves of the war party, who drop their firebrands and hasten to untie us from the buckboard, which is by now rapidly becoming an inferno.
Saved from a dreadful death, we huddle together on the ground, clinging to one another. The blue-jacketed warrior approaches, grabs me by the hair, pulling me to my feet and apart from the group, and says in perfect English, "You are lucky we came along. I am Hanging Tree. That is Sitting Bull," he adds, pointing to the chieftain sitting, stone-faced, astride his pony.
"P-p-pleased to meet you," I stammer, self-consciously trying to cover myself with my hands and arms. "My name is Barbara Moore. Your English is perfect.”
"I went to a white man's school in Missouri and learned his language, but now I have returned to my people. You are coming with us to the great Sioux encampment on Greasy Grass River … what the Blue Jackets call the Little Big Horn."
Sensing an opportunity, I reply, “I write for a big newspaper. Perhaps you could help me get an interview for my paper with your Chief, Sitting Bull. Does he ever smile?"
“Not since the Whites make war on his people, taking their land and the buffalo. I doubt he will talk to you. Besides you are coming with us for a purpose.”
“Well, anything would be better than burning to death,” I observe, nodding toward the blazing buckboard.
“Don’t be too sure, Miss Moore,” he says, turning me around and binding my wrists behind my back. “The Comanche have joined forces with the Sioux. Have you ever heard of Sand Creek, Miss Moore? The Blue Jackets raided a Comanche camp there years ago and tortured, raped and slaughtered the Comanche women. The surviving squaws demand revenge. Sitting Bull has vowed to satisfy them.”
“Oh, you don’t mean?” I gasp, the reality of the situation suddenly dawning on me.
“Yes, you and the others … that English dandy too!”
“But, Custer and the 7th Cavalry will come to rescue us. You can be sure of it!” I shout defiantly as I am thrown over the back of a pony on my tummy. Messaline, Siss and Wragg are tossed likewise over other ponies.
“That’s part of the plan,” he says grinning broadly and slapping me resoundingly across the buttocks with the flat of his hand.
TO BE CONTINUED
I wince as the intense heat from a glowing firebrand, held just inches from my mounded breast, sears the crinkled goose-bumpy flesh on and around one of my nipples. On the far side of the buckboard, Messaline and Siss, threatened with much of the same, scream in terror.
As I beg for mercy, a flaming firebrand is hurled overhead onto the undercarriage behind me. The dry splintered wood quickly catches fire and is set ablaze. I feel a wave of heat on my bare back and shoulders, and hear Siss screaming that they are going to burn us alive.
The warrior standing in front of me … the glow of the roaring flames devouring the undercarriage of the buckboard behind me reflecting off the greasy war paint on his face and bare chest …seems, at last, to hear my pleas. Slowly he draws the menacing firebrand away from my left breast … but only to move it over to the right! Closer and closer, it comes … its hot tip glowing fiercely. I squirm and writhe, and tug frantically at the bonds binding my wrists to the wheel, in a desperate effort to avoid the blistering heat.
Just when I think he is about to press the burning tip into the soft flesh of my breast, he suddenly pulls the firebrand away. Startled, I look up to see that more Sioux warriors, mounted on ponies, have entered the circle of light surrounding the overturned buckboard … one of them in full feathered headdress. My warrior with the firebrand turns and, in a marked show of deference, bows his head toward the newly arrived chieftain.
At the chieftain's side is a tall warrior, wearing a blue cavalryman's jacket ... open in front and sleeves cut away ... and an old yellow hat. He dismounts and shouts at the braves of the war party, who drop their firebrands and hasten to untie us from the buckboard, which is by now rapidly becoming an inferno.
Saved from a dreadful death, we huddle together on the ground, clinging to one another. The blue-jacketed warrior approaches, grabs me by the hair, pulling me to my feet and apart from the group, and says in perfect English, "You are lucky we came along. I am Hanging Tree. That is Sitting Bull," he adds, pointing to the chieftain sitting, stone-faced, astride his pony.
"P-p-pleased to meet you," I stammer, self-consciously trying to cover myself with my hands and arms. "My name is Barbara Moore. Your English is perfect.”
"I went to a white man's school in Missouri and learned his language, but now I have returned to my people. You are coming with us to the great Sioux encampment on Greasy Grass River … what the Blue Jackets call the Little Big Horn."
Sensing an opportunity, I reply, “I write for a big newspaper. Perhaps you could help me get an interview for my paper with your Chief, Sitting Bull. Does he ever smile?"
“Not since the Whites make war on his people, taking their land and the buffalo. I doubt he will talk to you. Besides you are coming with us for a purpose.”
“Well, anything would be better than burning to death,” I observe, nodding toward the blazing buckboard.
“Don’t be too sure, Miss Moore,” he says, turning me around and binding my wrists behind my back. “The Comanche have joined forces with the Sioux. Have you ever heard of Sand Creek, Miss Moore? The Blue Jackets raided a Comanche camp there years ago and tortured, raped and slaughtered the Comanche women. The surviving squaws demand revenge. Sitting Bull has vowed to satisfy them.”
“Oh, you don’t mean?” I gasp, the reality of the situation suddenly dawning on me.
“Yes, you and the others … that English dandy too!”
“But, Custer and the 7th Cavalry will come to rescue us. You can be sure of it!” I shout defiantly as I am thrown over the back of a pony on my tummy. Messaline, Siss and Wragg are tossed likewise over other ponies.
“That’s part of the plan,” he says grinning broadly and slapping me resoundingly across the buttocks with the flat of his hand.
TO BE CONTINUED
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I say, hold on a jiffy, what?
Who are these dashed 'Blue Jackets' anyway?
Nothing to do with me.
We wore black tailcoats at Eton. Gentlemen do not wear blue jackets.
Can I go now?
RacingRodent
Consul
We wore black tailcoats at Eton. Gentlemen do not wear blue jackets.
Well that has done it, no one from the Royal Navy is coming to rescue you (strictly the British Army also wear Blues as parade dress but it is in fact black...cos)
You'll have to rely on those Johnny Foreigners and their 7th Cavalry
Hope you tipped the author
This 'Hanging Tree' is such a bastard. I'm sure the name is pure coincidence and he is not related to me...
...but you know shortly after he left Missouri one of my great ancestors went to a 'convent' for about a year. Later it mentions she has a son but they never could track down the father!!!
Hmm
T
...but you know shortly after he left Missouri one of my great ancestors went to a 'convent' for about a year. Later it mentions she has a son but they never could track down the father!!!
Hmm
T
LittleSiss
Sorceress
They will burn us and hold us forever!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I hate fire!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I hate fire!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
LittleSiss
Sorceress
Somehow in this intriguing story didn't see this coming!!! Perhaps Barb has more surprises in store!!!Oh we will be "handled" by those squaws alright
Hey, I made up "Admicock"!!!19,000 likes ... just think what I could have if I hadn't created a MONSTER!
Congrats on 19K!!!
LittleSiss
Sorceress
19,000 likes ... just think what I could have if I hadn't created a MONSTER!
At your service
I learned from the best, you know.
LittleSiss
Sorceress