The Major's Wife

by The Major's Wife (lit)

  By now, neither could Jeffrey. He none too gently pushed the other man off of her and lifted her to her knees, spreading her legs as his dick slipped into her. “Oh, baby, I feel your wetness and Eagle’s cum, too. Now you will feel mine join them.”

  He began to ride her, not waiting for her to meet him. He forced himself to slow. Eagle moved closer to them and began to stroke her clit again. He lifted her hair from the back of her neck and kissed her. Soon she was moving with her husband. “Oh, harder now. Both of you, harder. Harder, harder.” Jeffrey could feel her muscles inside respond to wave after wave of molten lava that raced like ocean waves through her as he spewed his own seed into her.

  Chapter 41

  Lucretia awoke when the wagon pulled up in front of the cabin. Both men were gone. She might have dreamed the night before if her aching body did not remind her of the incredible sex, both loving and full of anger.

  The voices told her Molly was outside, as well as Corporal Dryer. She vaguely remembered Jeffrey stoking the stove and filling the pails to heat before he came back to bed. That must have been when Eagle left. Her husband had pulled her naked body to him as he lay beside her, covering them both. He kissed her head and whispered that he loved her. That was all she remembered until now.

  It was time to go, she knew, but a couple more minutes would not hurt. She poured the hot water into the tub and found it cool enough to wash. She dressed quickly, opened the door, and stepped out, not bothering to close it behind her. Molly sat in the back of a wagon on blankets, with her arms around her knees as she stared straight ahead, still in pain from the loss of her dear Deke.

  Corporal Dryer jumped down to assist Lucretia into the wagon, but a voice stopped him. “Help her into the back with the other women. We will cover them all to keep them out of sight and make it appear that you and the troops are making your daily run to the depot.”

  “Captain Grant.” Lucretia turned to glare at him. “By whose orders am I to sit in back with the others? I will sit up front as I always do.”

  “No, Mrs. Sawyer. You will not. The orders came from your husband, who will be with the rest of the men. This is all for your own good, and that of the ladies. So, please, just do as you are instructed.” Without a word, he grasped her at the waist and lifted her into the wagon.

  For once, Lucretia did as she was told. She stared at him in total disbelief. Was this the same man who had made such tender love to her just a few hours before? Was he the man who had whispered love words in her ears? Was he the man in whose arms she had lost herself to the throes of passion and delight? This man was the one who once again saw only a dung beetle instead of the woman who had shared ecstasy with him through the night. Then one more memory of the night before wormed into her mind…Jeffrey saying, “I told you she can never get enough.”

  Lucretia lay on the horse blankets that padded the wagon bed. A tarp came down over their bodies and smelled terrible. It covered the entire back of the wagon, hanging over the sides, leaving some air space for them to breathe. Corporal Dryer lifted the edge beside him and tucked it under his butt, allowing fresh air from around the foot area to move to them as the vehicle moved forward.

  “Thank you, Corporal Dryer,” said Lucretia in an extra sweet voice. “You are by far the nicest, most considerate man around here.” She knew without seeing that his face had turned bright red, even including his ears. “Where is Greta? Why did she not come with us?” she asked him.

  “Miss Greta said she would leave if and when she was damn ready. Excuse my French, ladies. She said it is the Indians who had better watch out if they want to keep their scalps. Then she showed me a knife she had in her skirts. Ol’ Jim Bowie would be proud of it. So, guess we do not need to worry ’bout her, madam.” He whistled a tuneless song as he did every day on the way to and from the depot. The wagon began to roll.

  Lucretia did not speak as tears returned to her eyes. The pain from the dismissal by Eagle cut deep, so she forced her mind away from him. She thought of Liz and the secrets they shared. Liz had told Lulu that Jeffrey loved her and wanted them all away before the fighting started. When it was over, she declared, they could come back. She had whispered that Michael had asked for her hand and she promised him an answer on their return. Soon, Lulu drifted to sleep.

  She heard a horse move close to the wagon. It was her husband, who had not even greeted her this morning. Did he hate her for what she had done the night before? It was his idea after all, and she knew he had enjoyed it as much as Eagle had…and truthfully, as much as she had. She remained silent, trying to sort out what had changed so drastically in just a few hours.

  Jeffrey spoke to Corporal Dryer in a low voice. She could not hear what he said, but the wagon began to roll faster. It woke Molly, as the wheels seemed to find every stone and low spot on the path. They bounced against each other and the sides of the wagon. Suddenly, a shot rang out and the corporal shouted out in pain, but did not release the reins. Instead, he urged the horses to an even greater speed.

  More shots, more screams, and frightening howls came from those chasing them. Molly, tiny as she was, bounced and came down into the pool of blood draining from Corporal Dryer’s wound. She saw the red spreading onto the wagon floor. She jumped up, screaming, and fell out of the wagon with a bullet in her head.

  “Mrs. Sawyer, do not move. Stay down. Let them think our horses are runaways with an empty wagon,” spoke Corporal Dryer from the front, where he lay sideways, half on the bench, half on the floor.

  Lucretia did not argue. The battle raged around her. Her mind seemed to shut down when she realized that she did not know if Michael had made it to Cottonwood Creek with Liz. Liz, wonderful Liz.

  In her semi-conscious state, she did not hear the change in the battle. She missed the increase in shots and the sound of horses’ hooves. She did not see Captain Grant and a small group of troopers join the fight. Their arrival changed the tide, giving the army the advantage, routing the Indians.

  The wagon turned back toward the fort, driving slowly through the battle scene. She stood finally, at the urging of the wounded corporal, who instantly wished he had said nothing. On the ground beside the wagon was the body of Major Jeffrey Sawyer.

  Chapter 42

  Lucretia Lucinda Sawyer moved faster at that moment than any time in her life, past or future. She seemed to fly out of the wagon and to the ground, holding her husband’s head in her lap. “Jeffrey, dear God, Jeffrey.” Her pain radiated like heat from the sun as she sobbed, cradling him close.

  Corporal Dryer dropped down beside her. He had a bullet in his shoulder and another had penetrated his hip. He felt the neck of the fallen man, detecting a faint pulse. “Mrs. Sawyer, he is alive.” Then he yelled, “Help, help! The major is hurt bad!”

  I watch from my hill, knowing that the previous hour must have been little more than a nightmare for them all. The fighting was bloody and terrible. Men on both sides were shot, falling from their horses. They cried out in pain. They lay bleeding on the ground. They fought on foot with knives and fists. Some received more bullets, even as they lay on the ground, dying or already dead. It was horrible to see these young men, red and white and black, slaughtering one another.

  It was not until later that I learned what Black Eagle Grant did.

  Captain Grant had disobeyed orders by following the major and his party. He made this choice only because he knew in his Indian half that those going to the depot were no match for the angry, misused natives. His white half, the army half, forced him to do what he could to save his fellow troopers and the women. That one woman was all that mattered to him. Even as he rode his horse at a full run, the picture of her in his arms, the sound of her pleasures, the cries as she came—all made him curse the animal for not being faster.

  The men wanted to follow the retreating natives, but he ordered them to gather the wounded for their return to the fort. He picked up the inert body of Major Sawyer and jumped into the wagon, laying the major next to
the other men already there.

  Lucretia scrambled unaided into the wagon, dropped to her knees, and cradled her husband’s head in her lap. She tore white cloth from her petticoat to press over the wound on his chest. His skin showed no color, either on his face or chest.

  Eagle called his horse and tied it to the back of the wagon, carefully avoiding the wounded and dead, and climbed up front. He took the reins and started the column west on its return to the fort. He and the woman did not speak, but she did nod when he placed his hat over Jeffrey’s face to protect him from the sun. Her bonnet covered her head from the sun, but did not stop her golden curls from escaping and glistening in the rays from above. He felt a keen desire to run his fingers through the curls and to kiss away the tears running from her cheeks down onto her dress bodice. Hell, he said to himself, dead husband or no husband, he just wanted her in his arms and in his bed again. He forced his mind to what he must do now that he was in charge of the fort.

  He knew the major would not survive, even if they had a doctor, which they did not. He had seen wounds his entire life and this one was going to kill the man, pure and simple.

  He also knew the Indians would not give up. They would attack the fort and cut off any attempts to leave it again. The depot was not an option because of its distance and the terrain through which they had to go to reach it…perfect for ambushes every mile. All he could hope was that the depot people would notice that Corporal Dryer had not made his daily run and inform the army by telegraph. He knew this was a wild hope, because they probably would wait a week or so, thinking it was just a fluke he missed a day. By then, it could be too late for them all.

  As soon as the party entered the fort, he jumped down and started issuing orders. “The Indians will not attack us again today. Six of you take the wagons to the river and fill every bucket, pan, pail, or anything else that can hold water. And I mean everything that can hold water. Do not forget the bathtub and Greta’s things and anything Frank has in the stable. Take the horse troughs, too. Now, get to it.”

  He jumped up into the wagon again, lifted Jeffrey into his arms, stepped down, and crossed the compound to the new house they had not yet completed. He pushed the door open and laid the unconscious man on the bed, carefully undressing him so as not to cause him pain. Not likely, he thought, as the major was so close to dead, but he took no chances.

  Lucretia tore off her bonnet as she ran into her home. “What are you doing?”

  “I am taking off his clothes so we can bathe his body when the fever starts.”

  “How do you know there will be a fever? He will wake up any minute.”

  For the first time, Eagle turned to look at her. “No, madam, he will not wake up. He will not wake up now or ever. All we can do now is make his death as easy as possible.”

  Lucretia ran to him, hitting him with her small clenched fists. “Do not say that! He will not die. He cannot.” Her face was red with fury, even as her tears made rivers down her cheeks. He grabbed her hands and pulled her to him. She collapsed in spasms of grief as she sobbed against his chest.

  Eagle held her, trying to comfort her at the loss of her husband, whom he thought she loved deeply. He would have been stunned to know her tears were of guilt for the opposite reason: that she did not love her husband.

  He felt her breath on the hand he patted her with. He smelled her woman smell and even at a time such as this, he desired her. His penis rose and pushed against his trousers. He was thankful for her heavy skirts the cold required her to wear.

  Lucretia forced herself to look up at the man she knew detested her. “Thank you, Captain, for your help and comfort.” Her eyes sparkled like blue diamonds through her tears. He bent his head to kiss the top of her head, but when she lifted her face, his mouth came down onto her lips instead, hard and demanding. She pushed him away, or tried to, but her lips refused to leave his. She opened her lips to take his flickering tongue and met it with her own. She felt lost in an abyss of lust as she had never before experienced except in his arms the night before.

  Eagle picked her up and laid her on the bed beside her husband. When he realized what he was doing—what they were doing—he jumped away from her. His cock rose to tent his trousers almost in front of her eyes. His voice was hoarse when he said, “I will get some water. Take off the rest of his clothes and cover him tightly. Build a fire if you know how.”

  “Of course I know how. I am not totally stupid, as apparently you think I am. Now, get out of here and leave me with my husband.”

  Chapter 43

  He left without another word. A private arrived with the water. Lucretia directed him to start a fire and put some of the water in the pot on top of the stove and to leave the rest outside in the cold.

  Lucretia took off her heavy clothes as the room warmed, and slipped into a nightie. She started to get in bed with Jeffrey, but felt the heat from his body as she lifted the blanket. A fever, dear God. He had a fever. She reached for her petticoat and tore it into pieces. She ran to the door, opened it, and carried in the cold water. Hot water or cold water? She had no idea. Maybe warm was best…hot would not draw out the heat and cold might be too much. She poured a bit of each into a bowl and began to bathe his burning body, inches at a time.

  He moaned every time she touched him. She lifted the makeshift bandage she had laid over his wound and her breath caught in her throat. The wound was oozing blood down his side. Black, ugly blood with clots. It was at this moment she knew that Black Eagle Grant was right. Jeffrey was going to die and it was all her fault. If she had loved him, she could have saved him.

  No, why lie to myself? she thought. For once, this is not about me. I have nothing to do with it. Was there a more selfish, shallow woman alive than she? Lucretia Lucinda Sawyer, you are damned to hell.

  She moved without thinking. She wet the cloth, wiped his body, and wet the cloth again. The heat he generated seemed to dry out each cloth as she stroked him. A knock on the door gave her cause to look up. “Come in,” she called, unmindful of her attire.

  Corporal Dryer stepped inside, carrying a plate of food and a cup of coffee. “Captain Grant told me to bring you this.” He gulped as he looked at her breasts through the thin cloth of her nightgown.

  “Thank you, Jed. Just put it on the table. I am not hungry.”

  He gulped again. “Can I help, ma’am? I could do that for a while to let you rest. Please, I would be grateful to help.”

  Lucretia looked at his face and realized he was sincere. She also realized that she was practically naked. She reached for her husband’s shirt lying on the floor and slid it on. It reached nearly to her knees. “Yes, Jed, I really would appreciate your help. But Captain Grant may have other things for you to do.”

  “No, ma’am. He said to stay and help as long as you want me.”

  “Then, please keep bathing his body. I think I will eat this after all.” She took two bites and had trouble swallowing. The food hit her stomach like a rock and she struggled to keep it down. She arose and moved to the stove to add wood. She paced the floor, aching for the comfort of her aunt and her inability to help the husband dying on the bed. This time the ache was not for her, but for them. She loved Liz, but she knew she did not love Jeffrey. He was a sweet man who adored her, and now she felt shame for not returning his love. At this time, she would have gladly died to give either one of them life again.

  Lucretia dropped back into the chair and put her head on her arms, which she laid on the table. Silently, at first, she cried, but soon she was sobbing aloud. Jed Dryer heard her and pretended not to, but it was tearing at his heart. He stood and moved to her, patting her softly on the shoulder. She cried harder. He took her hand and raised it to his lips.

  She stood and he pulled her into his arms, patting her back in comfort. He did not know what made him do this, but her pain was so real, he had to help her if he could. At that moment, the door opened and Eagle Grant stepped inside. In one second, he took in the entire scene.


  “Well, what a pretty picture. Could you have not waited for him to die before you found another pair of arms and another body to cover you?”

  “Wait, Captain,” stuttered the corporal. “It is not like that. Mrs. Sawyer was crying and I…”

  “I can see, Dryer. Dismissed!” The befuddled young man rushed out of the cabin, red of face and near tears himself.

  Lucretia turned to face him. “That was rude of you, Captain. The poor young man was only trying to comfort me. He certainly did not take advantage of my state, like you did.”

  “Take advantage of you? As I recall, Mrs. Sawyer, you were more than willing to return my kisses and everything else.”

  “Stop right there, Captain Grant. We are not talking about last night and you know it. That was a million years ago. We are talking about a short while ago.” Lucretia was angry now. “You took advantage of my vulnerability and my grief. My husband is dying, but you are ready to step in to fill my bed before his body is even cold. You just do not understand, do you? Just get out of here.” She turned her back to him and sat down on the bed to resume bathing Jeffrey’s feverish body.

  Eagle spoke. “I am not through talking to you and it is you who are rude, turning your back on me.” He took one step toward her as a shot rang out. He turned and ran out the door, not bothering to close it behind him. Another shot, then another. Lucretia forced her mind to ignore them as best she could and focused on her husband, for all the good it would do. She jumped when she heard him whisper her name.

  “Lulu. Lulu. Is that you?”

  “Yes, darling. I am here.” He tried to raise his hand. “No, Jeffery, do not try to move. You are badly hurt and must be still so you can get better.” She bent to kiss his dry lips lightly. She found a clean piece of cloth and used it to squeeze water between his lips. He swallowed greedily, then began to cough. The water came back out, tinted red.