by Jake Logan
“Hell, Melinda, everbody knows what that is. It’s called bein’ poked, only you’re too young to know about stuff like that.”
“How come I can’t know about it? I’m fourteen, same as you. Ain’t that old enough? We’re in the same grade at school, so it makes me old enough, an’ you know all about bein’ poked. I never had nobody tell me about it before.”
“Because you’re a girl. Girls ain’t supposed to know such grown-up things till they’re older.”
She grinned but still couldn’t look at him. Her gaze was fixed on the opposite creek bank. “I got out of bed real quiet an’ I snuck over to their bedroom door. I was afraid I was gonna wake the dog up so’s he’d start barkin’. I pushed the door open just a crack.”
John waited a few seconds, but when Melinda refused to say any more he asked, “And just what is it you saw that was so damn special?”
“You hadn’t oughta be cussin’,” she scolded. “What I seen was my ma bein’ poked by Pa. He had his tallywhacker stuck up inside her an’ she was makin’ the awfulest noises, like it hurt her somethin’ awful.”
John wagged his head, disgusted with a girl’s logic. “In the first place, it ain’t called a ‘tallywhacker.’ And them noises your ma was makin’ wasn’t on account of she was hurt. Them’s called pokin’ sounds.”
“Pokin’ sounds?”
“The sounds a full-growed woman makes when she’s bein’ poked by a man. My ma makes ’em all the time.”
“All the time? You’re joshin’ me.”
“Not all the time. Just at night, when my pa sticks his pecker inside her.”
Melinda looked at him for the first time. “It ain’t called a ‘pecker.’ You just made up that name. There’s wood-peckers an’ such, but that ain’t what hangs down between a man’s legs.”
“How’d you know, Melinda Sue Carter? You don’t know shit about bein’ poked or nothin’ of the kind. It damn sure ain’t called a ‘tallywhacker,’ that’s for sure. The right word for it is ‘pecker.’ I asked Pa one time. He said folks from up north call it a ‘cock,’ only any fool knows a cock is a rooster. He said it was a pecker an’ my pa knows all about peckers and stuff like that.”
“It gets hard sometimes,” Melinda said, looking off again with a darker color in her face now. “Real hard an’ real big. A lot longer’n usual too.”
“All girls are dumb,” John said, watching his cork again. “Everybody in Calhoun County knows a pecker gets hard when it’s around a woman.”
“Does yours ever get that way?” she asked in a timid voice. “I was just wonderin’.”
“All the time,” John answered, which was nearly the truth. “It’s hard as a rock when I wake up in the morning. Same when I go to bed at night.”
“Then how come you don’t poke somebody so it’ll go down some like it’s supposed to? Soon as Pa was done pokin’ Ma, he took it out an’ it hung down like it’s supposed to, like when he goes to the outhouse to pee. Looks like if you knowed so much about it you’d poke somebody yourself, if it’s like you say, hard all the time.”
It was John’s turn to blush. “Hadn’t found but a few girls I wanted to poke. I’ve poked more’n my share, maybe, only it has to be a girl I’ve taken a notion to poke on account of she’s so pretty.”
“You ain’t tellin’ the truth. You never poked a girl in your life,” she said, sounding sure of it.
“You don’t know beans about me, Melinda. I’ve poked a whole bunch of girls.”
“Name just one.”
He hung his head, studying his fishing cork with deep intent even though the fish weren’t biting. “It ain’t right to give off their names. I could if I wanted, but it wouldn’t be the right thing to do.”
“You’re joshin’ me again. You never poked a girl.”
“Mind your own damn business, Melinda Sue. I said it wasn’t proper to tell who they was.”
“That’s ’cause you ain’t never done it.”
He glared at her now, embarrassed. “You’ve never been poked by nobody, so how come you’re such a damn expert on it?”
She waited a long time before she answered. “I’ve been thinkin’ how it would feel. Looks like it oughta hurt some, if all tallywhackers get as big an’ hard as Pa’s does. It sure does look like it’d hurt.”
“You gotta wait till your teats get bigger. Men don’t want to poke a girl with little teats. And I just told you it ain’t called a ‘tallywhacker.’ It’s a pecker. Peckers don’t get hard unless a woman’s teats are big.”
“They’re gettin’ bigger, case you hadn’t noticed. I been measurin’ ’em with Ma’s measurin’ tape in her sewin’ box.”
He gave her a look of disdain. “They’re still too small to make a man’s pecker turn hard. Can’t hardly notice ’em under that dress.”
Melinda’s face was beet-red. “They’re bigger’n they look. I’ll show ’em to you if you want.”
“I wouldn’t be interested in seein’ small teats, Melinda. They gotta get bigger ‘fore I’d care to see ’em. You ain’t old enough yet. Wait a few years and then ask me again.”
“You don’t want to see ’em?”
“Not any little ones. A man’s pecker don’t get hard unless a girl’s teats are big ... bigger’n yours, anyway.”
She turned her back on him, and he wondered if he’d been too tough on her. Melinda was a friend, even if she was a girl with small teats.
“Look, Melinda. You’re asking about things that only a full-growed woman needs to know. Wait a spell. What’s the big hurry to know all about peckers and bein’ poked?”
“Cause I been havin’ dreams. I wake up in the middle of the night feelin’ real strange. It’s kinda hard to talk about. I get this feelin’ like I want to know what a tallywhacker feels like inside me.”
“You’re too young to be havin’ dreams like that.”
“Can’t help it, Johnny. I have ’em anyways, an’ it seems like they come more regular than they used to.”
John watched his cork idly. The fish weren’t biting today, and he was wasting his time fishing. “My pa says it’s the devil’s work when a boy thinks bad thoughts. Preacher Barnes always has a sermon against sin real close to Easter. I imagine the same goes for girls.”
“I was only wonderin’.”
John lifted his hook from the water, finding his worm just as it was when he started fishing. “Look, Melinda. I never did mean to hurt your feelings when I said you had little teats. It comes when you get older. My pa’s pecker is a helluva lot bigger than mine. Everything grows, like seeds in a garden.”
“They ain’t all that little,” she protested. She turned to look at him. “I’ll show you my teats if you show me your pecker—or whatever it is you’re supposed to call it. That way, we’d know if they was both too small.”
John felt a thickening, a swelling inside his pants. “I’d only do that if you showed me your teats first.”
“How come I gotta be first, Johnny? Looks like if you’d poked as many girls as you say, you wouldn’t mind showin’ me your pecker.”
“It’s account of you’re so young.”
“I’m the same age as you.”
He got up slowly, winding his fishing line around the cane pole. “Okay, Melinda. If you promise you won’t tell nobody I done this with a girl young as you, I’ll take down my pants and show you my pecker. But then you gotta show me those little teats. Won’t be fair if I’m the only one who shows what’s under my britches.”
“I swear I’ll do it.”
He placed his cane pole on the bank and opened the top button of his homespun pants. “If you laugh or tell anybody at school, I’ll swear it was all a lie,” he said.
“I promise I won’t laugh an’ I sure won’t tell a soul,” she said.
He pulled out his stiffening cock, holding it in the palm of his hand. He was aroused, despite Melinda being only fourteen years old and fully clothed.
“Oh my gosh!” Melinda gasped.
“It’s bigger’n my pa’s an’ his is huge!”
“It ain’t even all the way hard yet,” John boasted. He could feel it lengthening, throbbing.
“It’s real thick too,” she said. Her entire face was the color of a sunset. Her eyes locked on his member.
“Now you gotta show me your teats. Remember? You gave me a promise you would.”
Melinda stood up and slowly opened the top buttons at the front of her faded dress. As she wriggled it off her shoulders, John couldn’t quite believe what he saw. She had rounded bosoms, much larger than her poorly made sack dress suggested. Her nipples were round and pink and hard.
“Maybe they are a little bigger’n I figured,” he said, as his cock filled with blood. “It’s hard to tell when a dress has got ’em covered.” Then Melinda pushed her dress over her hips. She stood naked in front of him. “Don’t make fun of me, Johnny. But I wanna see if your pecker will fit inside me the way my pa’s fits inside my ma. Maybe this is what Reverend Barnes is always preachin’ against on Sunday, only I’d like to see it it’s gonna hurt me the way it does Ma.”
“It ain’t gonna hurt, Melinda, only I ain’t all that sure we oughta be doin’ this. You’ll tell, an’ we’ll both get in trouble with our folks.”
“I done swore I wouldn’t. It don’t look like it’s gonna fit anyhow.”
He stepped closer to her. “Lie down in that grass under the shade of that oak tree. We can try it. If it don’t fit, then at least we’ll know.”
She backed away from him until the shade of the leafy oak limbs covered the blush in her cheeks. “Okay, Johnny, but I want you to promise me you won’t push it in too deep. An’ if it won’t fit, you gotta swear you’ll quit when I tell you to.”
“Lie down,” he said. His cock felt as though it was on fire. “I promise I won’t hurt you. I’ll stop any time you say.”
His pecker did fit, after a bit of work, and thus had begun his first relationship with a girl. Melinda Sue Carter had been his sweetheart for years after that. Until he went off to war.
19
Sheriff Tom Wall gave him a lingering stare. “You’re sayin’ you didn’t know that feller who jumped out your window last night?”
“Never saw him before in my life,” Slocum replied.
“An’ you’re sayin’ he came after you with a gun, only you got the drop on him, an’ then there was this scuffle, an’ he knocked over the lamp?”
“That’s what happened, Sheriff. He broke down the door to my room and aimed for the bed with a pistol. I was standing on the other side of the doorway. When he saw the bed was empty, I stuck my Colt against his head. I asked him how come he’d come gunning for me. He said something about me sticking my nose where it didn’t belong when it came to those Comanches the army had cornered in Red Oak Canyon. I told him to drop his gun and he did. Then he came at me with a knife hidden inside his coat. I could have killed him with a pistol shot, only I took a swing at him instead. He fell back into the lamp, and that’s when the room caught on fire. The coal oil got spilled on his clothes, and I tried to put it out with a blanket. That’s when he jumped out the window.”
Wall stroked his chin. “I ain’t sure I believe you, Mr. Slocum, but in the absence of any witnesses, I’ve got no choice but to call it an accident.”
“It wasn’t any accident he came to my hotel trying to kill me,” Slocum protested.
“Maybe, maybe not. Like I said, I ain’t all that sure you’re tellin’ me the whole truth.”
Slocum did his best to control his anger. “That’s my story about how it happened,” he said, after a bit.
Wall nodded. The bright sunlight pouring through the window behind him made him look older, exaggerating the deep lines in his face. “Then I reckon that’s the end of it. You’re free to leave town.”
“I hadn’t planned on leaving just yet. I wanted to talk to Major Thompson about a few things.”
The sheriff’s face turned hard. “It’d be my advice you leave Cache, before somethin’ else happens. Seems you made some enemies.”
Slocum looked past the sheriff at the distant fort. “I never was much good at taking advice, Sheriff, not unless I agreed with it. I’ll be staying in town a day or two.”
Wall shrugged. “Suit yourself on it, Slocum. I’ve got no legal reason to lock you up or run you out of town. But I’m warnin’ you. If somethin’ like this was to happen again, I’d take a different view of you bein’ in Cache.”
Without bothering to reply, he stalked off in the direction of the army post with his mind made up. First, he intended to check on Senatey, then he was going to find out what kind of man George Tatum really was.
She opened her eyes when he came into the room with Major Green.
“How’re you feeling, Senatey?” he asked, making signs for the words he used.
“Take me to Isa Tai,” she whispered in a dry, thin voice. “No stay at this place.”
“The Tosi Tivo doctor says you need rest.”
“Take me to Isa Tai. Sacred chants must be spoken. I will die in this place.”
“A white man’s medicine can be good,” he told her. “It will make you stop hurting.”
“My spirit seeks peace,” she replied. “Take me to Isa Tai before I die.”
Dr. Green spoke. “You won’t die, young lady, but you must not move around too much. You have a couple of broken ribs and your internal injuries are still bleeding some.”
Senatey looked at Slocum. “What he say?” she asked. He could see the fear behind her eyes.
He spoke to her in Comanche. “To move makes the blood come inside you. It is better to lie down here.”
Her eyelids narrowed. “All Tosi Tivo lie. Better I go to my people now.”
Slocum looked at the doctor. “What will it hurt if I take her where she wants to go in a wagon, an army ambulance?”
“It could cause more internal bleeding,” he replied. “It’s taking a chance.”
Slocum remembered the times he had spent in Comanche villages in the past. “These are superstitious people, Major. They believe in their medicine men. She wants to go to her people. If you’ll let me borrow a wagon and a pile of blankets, I’ll take her where she wants to go.”
“She’s not my responsibility anyway, Mr. Slocum. These Indians are charges of the Indian agent and the Bureau of Indian Affairs.”
“I’ll take the responsibility, Major, if you’ll loan me the use of a wagon.”
“I’ll send someone to harness a team,” he said, turning to leave the room.
As the doctor’s footsteps faded, Slocum looked down at the girl. “I’ll take you to your people, Senatey. We’ll carry you to a wagon.”
“Now?” she asked. She was not quite sure she believed him.
“As soon as the horses are hitched. Lie still. I’ll be back in a few minutes with a couple of men to help me carry you on a litter.”
Even though she did not fully understand all of what he said, she raised one tiny hand and made a fist over her heart, the sign for true words and a good heart.
He nodded. “I speak true words. I will do as you ask and take you to Isa Tai.”
Senatey, in spite of her pain and the effects of the morphine, gave him a smile. One of the most beautiful smiles he’d ever seen in his life.
The Comanche sector of Fort Sill was one of the worst he’d seen. Squalor. Starving women, children, and old men and women watched him drive the covered ambulance across the sections reserved for the Kiowa and the Arapaho. But the Comanches had the worst of things. Open trenches for sewers. Shabbily built barracks with holes in the roof. Everywhere there were signs of neglect, as if the army had decided these people deserved less than any of the other tribes.
He halted the team before an old Indian who stood, with a garden hoe in his hand, blocking the road. Slocum spoke to him in Comanche.
“Point me to the lodge of Isa Tai, the medicine man,” he said.
For a long time, the old man did not mo
ve. He studied Slocum’s face. Then he aimed a crooked finger at a building near the edge of the Comanche part of the reservation. The old Indian had been puzzled when Slocum asked his question in the tongue the old man understood.
Slocum nodded his thanks and shook the reins over the backs of the harness team.
The rattle of the wagon, its wheels, and harness chain drew curious looks from Comanches across the camp. He drove the team to the small building and halted it there. A skinny Indian boy blocked the doorway.
“Help me.” Slocum spoke in the boy’s native language and used signs to emphasize what he wanted.
The young Indian frowned. “Why should I help a white man?” he asked in heavily accented English.
“Because I have Senatey, daughter of Chief Lame Bear, in the back of this wagon. She seeks the help of Isa Tai.”
“You do not speak truth, Tosi Tivo. Senatey and four more of our women are dead.”
“Can’t tell you about three of ’em,” he replied, walking to the rear of the ambulance. “One girl was almost dead when I found her. Can’t find any trace of the others. But the girl in this wagon is Senatey. Help me carry her inside, or I’ll have to do it myself.”
Still doubtful, the youth walked over, his thin shoulders nothing but bone and skin, to peer into the wagon. He stood there for a moment.
“It is Senatey,” he whispered.
In Comanche, Slocum said, “I speak only true words.”
The boy looked at him now with a very different expression on his face. “I will help you, but first I must tell the great medicine man to prepare a place for her.”
“Do it however you want, only do it in a hurry. This woman has been hurt real bad.”
The Comanche ran to the doorway and disappeared inside. Slocum opened the canvas sheet covering the rear entrance of the ambulance to glance inside.
Senatey lay on her back with her eyes closed. Dr. Green had given her another injection of morphine just before they left the post hospital.
“At least she’s asleep,” he muttered. He was aware that a growing group of curious Comanches were approaching the wagon.