Slocum and the Comanche

by Jake Logan

  She pushed his prick deeper into her dewy mound. A gasp whispered between her tightly compressed lips despite her efforts to control it. “I’m glad you understand,” she sighed, wincing slightly when the size of his cock caused her some pain.

  “Damn that feels good,” he said. Her cunt was so warm and tight, the feeling was lifting him to new heights of pleasure and longing, in spite of his fatigue after a night-long ride with Senatey in his arms.

  “I was about to say the same thing,” she replied, tightening her vaginal muscles around the hardness of his prick.

  “A woman like you needs a lot of loving,” he said, rising off the mattress again.

  “More than you know,” she hissed. She clenched her teeth with building passion, closing her eyelids as a wave of ecstasy spread along the length of her body. “Clyde never understood what a woman wants... what she has to have to be satisfied with the man she’s with.”

  It was an absurd question yet he asked it anyway. “Did you love him? Or did you believe you did?”

  “He made a lot of promises,” Fannie replied as her pelvis ground farther down on his stiff member. “He told me all sorts of things, like how we’d go to California. I guess you could say I loved him, but in a different way ... not the way I love the feel of your prick inside me.”

  “I can see to it that you get there,” Slocum said as his prick slid slowly deeper into her wetness. “I’ll have to send a telegram.”

  “I believe you, John,” Fannie said. “Maybe I shouldn’t, but there’s something about your face ...”

  “I’m telling you the truth,” he answered. “The only way to prove it to you is show you a ticket issued by the Texas & Pacific.”

  “Will you go with me?”

  “I’ve already told you I have business in Denver. Maybe when I’m done.”

  “It won’t be the same without you,” she whispered, suddenly making a face, an expression that was a mixture of intense pain and pleasure.

  “You’ll enjoy the city. You don’t need me to see all the sights.”

  Now her wet cunt was near the base of his shaft, and she began grinding back and forth, up and down. “It won’t be the same,” she said again, her eyes tightly shut, a crimson flush darkening her cheeks.

  He heard a wet sound as her cunt moved up and down on his member, a sound like the sucking of a windmill sucker rod in the silence of a deserted pasture.

  “I’ll get there as soon as I can,” he promised, wondering, arching his spine to drive his prick deeper into her mound. Was Fannie so good in bed he would travel all the way to the West Coast, to San Francisco, to sample her charms again? It was a hell of a long train ride from Denver.

  “Oh that feels so good,” she said.

  He felt his testicles rising. “Hurry,” he responded, his desire heightened by lack of sleep and an urgent need to get to Fort Sill to ask about Senatey’s condition. He still couldn’t drive the image of the beautiful Comanche girl from his mind, even as Fannie pumped up and down on his prick.

  Fannie began slamming her groin into him, but her force was no less than his own as his cock rose to meet her. For a few minutes, they were silent as they sought release, pounding their organs against each other, making the bedsprings groan and squeak.

  He caught a glimpsed of her breasts rising and falling with each powerful thrust of her body, their twisted nipples jiggling. In spite of himself, the need for control, his jism came flooding into her pussy in rhythmic bursts.

  At almost the same moment, Fannie became rigid and her frantic hunching halted. She trembled slightly, digging her fingernails into his upper arms.

  “Yes! Yes!” she cried.

  He was lost in his own release for a time and merely let his juices flow.

  “Oh yes!” Fannie hissed, her teeth clenched tightly in ecstasy. Drops of perspiration beaded on her skin, her breasts, her stomach and thighs. Shaking, caught in the high point of her climax, it was as if she were encased in a block of ice.

  Finally, her thigh muscles relaxed.

  His own orgasm ended in shorter, more controlled bursts, and he lay still, panting.

  Beyond the open window, a cold wind whipped the curtains away from the windowsill, but neither one of them noticed.

  When his breathing slowed, he looked up at her. “That was nice, Fannie.”

  “It was wonderful, John. I don’t know how to describe it,” she said.

  “No need,” he told her. “All that matters is we were both satisfied.”

  She gazed down at him. “It’s more than that, John. You do more than just satisfy me.”

  “Why try to put it into words?”

  She let her chin fall, resting it on her chest while she stared down at him. “You’re different, John. It isn’t just the size of your prick. You give a woman pleasure. I think it’s because you’re so gentle. You know how to make love to a woman without making her feel used.”

  “I’ve never been known for being gentle,” he said. A slow smile crossed his face.

  “But you are... in your own way.”

  He lifted his head off the pillow and kissed her lightly on the mouth.

  Her smile widened. “You see what I mean? You know how to treat a lady. That kiss means as much as anything, when a man feels something... after it’s over.”

  “Just a natural reaction.”

  Her expression changed. “Not with most men. They use a woman and then they can’t wait to move on.”

  He thought about what she said. “It’s my nature to move on to new country, but I try to make a woman feel like the time we spend together means something.”

  “It works,” she said. “You make me feel like I’m the only woman in the world when I’m in your bed... when I’m in your arms like this.”

  His mind began to wander back to the fort, to Senatey, and what would happen when she woke up to find herself in the care of a white doctor. “I enjoy your company, Fannie. You’re a great lover. But it’s time I got dressed and went out to Fort Sill to talk to Major Thompson.”

  “I understand,” she replied, lifting one magnificent curved thigh, milky, slightly muscled, off his abdomen. There was a sweet sucking sound as his cock was withdrawn from her wet cunt. “You do what you have to do.”

  “I’ll try to see you later on tonight.”

  She perched on the edge of the mattress. “I’ll be counting on you.”

  Slocum rolled to one side and put his feet on the floor. “I have a sick feeling we’re on the verge of an Indian war here in Cache. Those Kwahadies are gonna be blamed for what happened to those settlers down by the Red. I found the tracks of the men who did the killing. It wasn’t Indian pony tracks.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Fannie asked as she covered herself with the bedsheet.

  “Experience, I reckon. Spent a big part of my life reading hoofprints. Those damn sure weren’t Indian ponies that left that settlement. I’m wondering if somebody else could be behind this.”

  “But who could it be? Who would kill and cut off the hair of a bunch of farmers like that?”

  “That’s what I intend to find out, if I can,” he said as he pulled on his boots.

  “But you said you were leaving town today ...”

  He gazed out the window. “Things have changed. I found a reason to stay a while longer. I want to talk to this Indian agent by the name of Tatum. Something about this whole affair doesn’t add up.”

  Fannie gave him a strange look as she rose to put on her dress.

  13

  Long before he reached the gates of the fort, he could see a beehive of activity. Cavalry troops were forming across the parade ground, sending up swirls of dust into the winds blowing out of the darkening storm clouds.

  “Trouble,” he muttered, guiding his stud past the armed sentries at the gates. He wondered if Sergeant Watson had located the men who killed the settlers.

  As he headed for the post hospital, Slocum told himself that it was none of his concern, th
at it was army business, despite what he’d told Fannie about looking into his suspicions that the Indian agent, George Tatum, had a stake in what was going on, a profit motive. It was a far-fetched notion but not impossible. Indian troubles in the region around Fort Sill could serve as a distraction from the dishonest dealings of a government agent who was involved in crooked beef contracts, lining his own pockets at government expense.

  While it was, admittedly, a stretch of the imagination to think that Tatum was behind the murders down on the Red in some way, it was also clear that the killings and scalpings weren’t the work of a Plains Indian tribe who were trying to rid their hunting ground of white settlers but nevertheless left the homesteads standing intact. Scouting for the army had taught Slocum enough about Indian practices to be suspicious of what he’d seen at the settlers’ cabins. It simply didn’t add up. Scalped women, log cabins left untouched, Senatey’s remark about seeing a group of “bad men” she couldn’t describe further. It had been enough to prompt Conas to send his women back to the safety of the fort while he and his warriors continued hunting game.

  He tied off the Palouse in front of the hospital while observing the rush of activity inside the fort as more and more soldiers formed on the parade ground. Once he learned how Senatey was doing, he needed to find out what all the troop movement was leading up to.

  At the far end of a row of empty cots, Slocum saw Major Green giving a soldier some sort of injection. The doctor looked up as Slocum approached.

  “Howdy, Major. I thought I’d ask about the Indian girl I brought in.”

  “She’s in that same little room at the back, Mr. Slocum. I have her heavily sedated. Her internal bleeding has slowed down to some extent. She hasn’t awakened since you left. The morphine is keeping her asleep.”

  “You reckon she’s gonna be okay?”

  Green straightened up. His brow was pinched with thought. “It’s very hard to say. Someone gave her a terrible beating.”

  “Soldiers from this fort. I intend to speak to Major Thompson about it as soon as he returns.”

  “He’s back. A group of escaped Comanches has been cornered by squads of troopers somewhere to the south. Our patrol reported that these were the Indians who murdered those farmers near the river a few days ago.”

  Slocum frowned. “It’s probably a mistake. I expect they found the hunting party led by a warrior named Conas. Those Comanches weren’t responsible for the mutilations above the Red. I’d stake my life on it. I found the tracks of those killers for a Sergeant Watson, and I’m positive the prints weren’t made by Indian ponies. I’ve done my share of scouting for the army, and I know the difference. The tracks I found were made by thousand-pound horses, not the little seven- or eight-hundred-pound ponies those Comanches were riding. I’ll speak to the Major about it. Might help prevent a war.”

  “I fear it’s already too late for that, according to what I was told. The Indians are fighting back, and apparently very fiercely at that. It’s the reason those squads are forming now. We got a request for reinforcements.”

  Slocum shook his head. “It’d be natural for Kwahadies to fight back if they were attacked. Trouble is, Major Thompson has the wrong bunch cornered.”

  Green shrugged. “I can only suggest that you explain it to our commander, Mr. Slocum. Everything will depend on whether or not he believes you. I was told there were already heavy casualties on both sides. We’re preparing for a large number of wounded to arrive at any moment now. Wagons were sent out to bring them back.”

  “Sounds like I sure as hell am too late,” Slocum said. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to look in on the girl. I feel like I owe it to her, on account of what was done to her by those soldiers.”

  The doctor nodded. “If what you say is true, and I don’t doubt your word at all, those men should be court-martialed. It disgraces the rest of us who wear these uniforms to have soldiers among us who would do anything so brutal to a woman, regardless of her race. I’m sure you know we have some who feel an Indian isn’t quite human. It’s a sad state of affairs, but I don’t have the authority to change official procedures, and no one can effect a change on the minds of certain types of men.”

  “Those weren’t men,” Slocum replied angrily, turning for the room where Senatey was being kept. “They were cowards.”

  Her eyes were closed and her breathing was slow and irregular as her tiny nostrils flared. He leaned over her bunk to get a better look at the bruises on her cheeks and neck. They were worse than when he had seen them in the pale moonlight the night before.

  “The yellow bastards,” he whispered, unconsciously balling his hands into fists.

  The sound of his voice awakened her, and her eyelids fluttered open. For a moment, she stared blankly at the hospital ceiling. Then she slowly became aware of his presence.

  He made the sign for true words. “Just wanted to be sure you’re okay,” he said gently.

  The morphine made her words mushy. “This place... is white medicine man lodge.”

  “I had no choice but to bring you here, Senatey. You had to have medical attention.”

  “Take me... Isa Tai. Now.”

  “I can’t do that, not till you’re a little stronger. You’re bleeding inside. It’s serious.”

  “Take me Isa Tai. This bad... place”

  Her fear and hatred for white men wouldn’t allow her to consider anything else. The morphine was the only thing keeping her from leaving the hospital on her own. “I’ll take you to Isa Tai as soon as I can, as soon as you’re a little better. Until the bleeding stops you have to stay here. Moving any more than necessary can start the bleeding again.”

  “No!” she said, wagging her head on the pillow. “Take me now!”

  He sat on the edge of her bed. There was a fearful expression on her face, but she was too heavily drugged to pull away. “Listen to my words, daughter of Chief Lame Bear,” he began in halting Comanche, a gutteral tongue he hadn’t spoken in years. He tried to punctuate everything he said with sign language. “The Tosi Tivo soldiers who hurt you are bad men. They will be punished. Not all Tosi Tivo are bad. The white doctor here is good. He has a good heart,” Slocum continued, stumbling over phrases he could barely recall. “He has medicine that will take your pain away and help stop the blood inside you. I know you don’t trust the Tosi Tivo, and after what the soldiers did to you, I cannot blame you for feeling this way. But I’m asking you to trust me. I am a friend of Chief Buffalo Hump and Quannah Parker. I was a friend to old Chief Nocona before he died. I have been welcome in the villages of the Kotsoteka, the Yamparika, and the Kwahadie of long ago, before your people were forced to live here on the reservation. I speak true words to you when I say the Tosi Tivo medicine man will help you.

  “All Tosi Tivo speak with the tongue of a snake,” she said in Comanche.

  “That is not true. There are good Tosi Tivo. You must trust me.”

  She watched him through hooded eyelids but said nothing, as if she might be considering his request.

  He kept pressing her, knowing the outcome might save her life. “When the soldiers had you tied to the tree, I sent them away. I stopped them from hurting you. If I was a bad man who was not a friend to all Sata Teichas, would I do this?”

  Again she remained silent, but behind her dark chocolate eyes he thought he detected a softening of the hard look.

  “Trust me just this once, Senatey. Let the Tosi Tivo medicine man help you and then I will take you to Isa Tai. I speak only true words.”

  “I have... afraid this place,” she mumbled in English.

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of. The Tosi Tivo doctor has a good heart. His medicine will help you.”

  “Maybe so I stay... little time,” she answered sleepily.

  He knew she was slipping back into unconsciousness. “One more thing, Senatey. Those bad men Conas saw when he sent you back to the reservation... what did they look like? Were any of them like Tosi Tivo?”

 
“No be Tosi Tivo,” she whispered. “No be same ...”

  “But how?” he asked. “Tell me how they were different, or how they were dressed.”

  “I stay this place... little time,” she told him. Her mind was wandering, and she winced as a stabbing pain coursed through her chest.

  He was silently thankful when her eyes closed again, even though she hadn’t been able to tell him what the “bad men” looked like. She was unconscious. He gazed down at her a moment, struck once more by her rare natural beauty. This woman didn’t need lip paint or a fancy dress to catch a man’s eyes. But after what had been done to her, she would only hate white men that much more, and with good reason.

  “Sleep, pretty lady,” he said softly as he made ready to leave the tiny room. “I’ll promise you one thing. The sons of bitches who did this to you are gonna answer to me, if the army won’t do it. I only gave ‘em a little taste of what’s in store when I find ’em again.”

  He strode out of the hospital to find Major Thompson, but he kept an eye out for the soldiers he had encountered the night before. One of them would have a swollen jaw and a lump on his head, but Slocum was on a mad and he intended to add to the list of injuries.

  At post headquarters, he was informed that Major Thompson had left with over a hundred cavalrymen for a place called Red Oak Canyon, pulling out two hours earlier. A second detachment of cavalrymen was assembling to follow the major. One of Thompson’s aides told him that the Comanches trapped in the canyon were about to feel the swift sword of military justice.

  Slocum left the building with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He was certain that Conas and his hunters were not responsible for what happened at the cabins, yet they were about to be punished for a crime they did not commit.

  As he was preparing to mount his Palouse, he saw a cavalryman who looked a little bit like one of the soldiers he’d found at the campfire last night.

  Slocum wheeled quickly and trotted over to grab the reins on the cavalryman’s bay horse.