Cheyenne Captive

by Georgina Gentry - Iron Knife's Family 01 - Cheyenne Captive

  “For you, I think they would.” She smiled archly at him, knowing she appealed now to his pride.

  He laughed as he gathered up the two horses’ reins and led her rather unsteadily around the corner to a smaller, grimier saloon.

  It was dismal, she thought as they entered. Two men drank at the bar and over in a corner a private lay passed out across a table, his glass overturned before him. A card game was in progress among a tableful of cowboys under the dirty glow of an oil light. At another table, two men sat with white whores on their laps, kissing and fondling them. The women might once have been pretty and young but were neither anymore.

  The rough man led her to a table and they sat down. One or two men looked at her with interest and then studied her big escort and looked away.

  The bartender came over. “Now, you know I can’t serve no Injuns liquor,” he whined.

  “Two whiskies!” the big man said as if he hadn’t heard him.

  She watched the bartender man fumble with his apron a moment, looking at the big man. Then he went over and came back with two dirty glasses of cheap whiskey.

  She sipped the raw liquor that burned her throat and watched the scout gulp his. Curiously, she watched the two white women and the way the men ran their hands over them as they kissed them.

  Her escort laughed as he followed her gaze. “They’re playin’ something called ‘mouth fishin’,” he drawled. “Cowboys usually do it with squaws for fun but those two old bags ain’t choosy anymore.”

  “I never heard of ‘mouth fishin.’” Gray Dove shrugged in annoyance, thinking he made fun of her. “It looks like kissing to me!”

  Just then, one of the women laughed triumphantly and extracted a coin from her mouth. The money immediately got Gray Dove’s attention.

  “See?” the man drawled as he leaned back in his chair. “The gal has to fish the coin outa the man’s mouth, comprende? He gets a little fun and she gets to keep the money.”

  Gray Dove looked at him. “You speak Spanish. Are you from the Mexican country?”

  “Hell, honey,” he boasted. “I been just about everywhere. You gotta speak the lingo if you go anywheres south or west of here.” He tipped his hat back and scratched his head absently.

  She tried not to stare but she couldn’t keep from gaping at the pink, bald spot in his wiry, long hair just back of his forehead.

  He glared at her and pulled the hat back down on his forehead self-consciously. “What’s the matter? Ain’t you ever seen what the Comanche can do to a man? They wasn’t even waitin’ ’til I was dead yet! I was lucky to come outa that alive! You ain’t Pawnee, are you?”

  “No, Arapaho.” She tore her gaze away from his disfigurement, knowing he asked because the Pawnee considered a man scalped as a man to be treated as already dead. “Show me about ‘mouth fishin.’” She got up and settled herself on his lap, rubbing her big breasts against his chest.

  He guffawed and pulled a strange little black leather money pouch from his fur vest and popped a coin in his mouth.

  Wiggling on his lap, she put her arms around his neck. “I intend to leave here a rich woman!” She laughed.

  His hands pawed her breasts. “Missy, you may not leave here at all tonight unless you go home with me.”

  The two men at the bar ambled over to watch in idle curiosity. The card players paused and looked toward the couple.

  Very slowly and deliberately, she put her tongue between his lips and probed deeply into his mouth. She felt him tense under her and one of his big hands went to her bare knee and stroked along her thigh. She teased him with her tongue, running it along his teeth. She found the coin and took it from his mouth, holding it up triumphantly for all to see.

  “Gawd Almighty!” he exclaimed to the other men. “I never had so much fun losin’ money. Here, honey, let’s do that again!”

  “Let’s see if you got enough money to keep this up!” she challenged. This time as she took the coin from his mouth, she could feel his fingers probing further up her thigh as she did with her tongue. She started to protest, then decided not to anger him. She wanted the money and she needed him to point out the captain for her the next day.

  “Let’s go to my quarters, honey.” he muttered. “I got something better in mind.”

  One of the cowboys who had been watching said, “Is this a private game or can anybody play?”

  She felt the big scout tense threateningly and she whispered in his ear. “What does it hurt? Let me take the cowboy for his money. I’ll buy you some drinks.”

  He looked at her a long moment and then grinned in agreement. “Missy, you’re a gal after my own heart! I never say ‘no’ to another drink or makin’ a little money.”

  He stood up suddenly, dumping her unceremoniously on the floor. “Sure, Cowboy, you can have a chance at my little Injun gal. So can any of you. But let’s see some gold. None of them little silver coins now!”

  Immediately, the card game broke up and the men came to the table to watch. Even the two who had been holding the white women on their laps dumped them off in the floor and came over.

  Gray Dove took a lot of money from the men in the next hour or so. The scout took over handling the coins, inspecting them carefully to make sure no one slipped her anything to small. This was easy, she thought happily. All she had to do was take the coins from the men’s mouths while she rubbed her big breasts against their chests and they ran their hands up and down her thighs.

  Finally, the scout complained. “I’m tired of watchin’ you guys put yore hands all over where I wanta put somethin’ else. Come on, honey, let’s go to my place!”

  She pouted and pulled away when he tried to jerk her off a cowboy’s lap. “I want to make money.”

  “Money mean that much to you?” He smiled cruelly. “I’ll show you how to really make money!” He turned to the crowd of men. “You guys want more’n just a sample, come over to my place in a few minutes, you can all have at her. Bring cash!”

  Then he took her wrist and pulled her outside to the hitching rail.

  Angrily, she shook his hand off. “What gives you the right to offer me to all those men?”

  “Listen, you little dog-eatin’ squaw.” He jerked her around roughly to face him. His eyes were cold and mean. “You probably be givin’ it away out in the grass for years. I’m gonna show you how the white whores do it and take a little cut for helpin’ you. I’d like to live a little better’n I do now on an army scout’s pay.”

  She sulked as she looked up at him. “I haven’t got my share of what I just took in the saloon yet.”

  He threw back his head and laughed, turned loose of her arm, and reached info his vest for the money pouch. “If you don’t beat all! I never saw anyone so money hungry, except me, of course. I think we’re two of a kind, missy!” He counted out half the coins and put them in her hand.

  They mounted up and rode over to his quarters. The room was small, dirty, and smelled bad.

  “I don’t think I like this idea after all,” she complained, disliking the place. “Soldiers don’t have much money.”

  “They do right now ’cause they just got paid.” He peeled his ve,st off and unbuttoned his shirt. “And what they got, we’ll git!”

  She scowled. “Why should I cut you in when I do all the work?”

  “Because I know how to get you more money! They’d try to cheat a squaw but they’d be afraid to cheat me.” He sat down on the edge of the rumpled bed and pulled off his boots. “Listen, honey, I got bigger ideas! I always wanted to own a saloon with fancy women upstairs. You could be one of my main girls. I could dress you up pretty and pass you off as a Spanish duchess or some such.”

  Gray Dove snorted. “No man would believe that!”

  “Sure they would. I’ll do something to your hair, put jewels on you like that Lola Montez out in Californy! Them dudes that’s startin’ to pour in here don’t know an Injun when they see one.”

  She watched him stand, unbutton his
pants, and pull them off. “Why should white men be coming here?”

  “The gold strike west of here over in the Rockies! Ain’t you heard the rumors?”

  She pulled her shift over her head. “White men can’t go there! That’s Cheyenne-Arapaho hunting grounds! They’ve got a treaty. Do you want to dig for gold?”

  He sat down on the edge of the bed again, looking up at her. “Gawd Almighty, no! It’s too damned much work. I jest want to take it from the suckers who do find it. And as for the Injun huntin’ grounds, since when does that mean anything to whites? If there’s gold in that Colorado country, the army’ll just move the Injuns outa there! And they’ll need saloons and fancy women in those boom towns!”

  She stood in front of him nude, and the light from the moon shining through the window silhouetted her lush body as she felt his eyes on her. “Am I a ‘fancy’ woman?”

  “The fanciest!” he assured her as he reached for her.

  She evaded his hands. “You are going to pay me for loving me tonight?”

  “Hell, no, I don’t pay!” He jerked her to him roughly.

  “You’re hurting me!” she complained, looking regretfully at his body. He was built like a big, powerful grizzly bear and there were gray hairs in the mat on his chest. She thought of Iron Knife’s hairless, rippling muscles.

  “I’m gonna hurt you a lot more before I’m through,” he promised fiercely as he threw her down on the bed. “I like to hurt women when I love ’em. It makes it better somehow. I like it even better when they hurt me!”

  She started to argue, but he was already on top of her. Jerking her legs apart, he pushed her knees up to her shoulders and rammed into her like a big, snorting buffalo bull. He dug his fingers into her shoulders, hurting her but giving him more leverage as he pushed her knees still higher. His tongue was hot in her mouth and she whimpered. That seemed to goad him to dig in even harder. Remembering he had said he liked to be hurt, she clawed his back until she felt the blood come fresh and wet. It seemed to drive him into a frenzy and she hadn’t realized how much she liked to hurt men until now.

  It excited her to hurt him. But before she could enjoy him to the zenith of her passion, he suddenly exploded within her and lay across her ripe body like a dead man, leaving her angry and unfulfilled.

  “For that poor show, I should make you pay money!” she panted in frustration. “I should call the sentry and have him throw you in the guardhouse.”

  He leaned on one elbow as she squirmed under him and laughed lazily. “Wouldn’t do you any good, honey! Who’d listen to a little squaw? Especially if I offered the guard a go at you for keepin’ his mouth shut! Don’t worry, you little slut, you’ll get all the hump you want when the others come in a minute.”

  “You think they’ll come?”

  “To have a go at you and them big titties of your’n? Hell, yes, they’ll come! Now, let’s see if you got any other talents besides just doin’ it regular like.”

  “I don’t think I want—” She never got a chance to protest. He rolled over and grabbed up a big whip lying on the bedside table.

  “Don’t tell me what you don’t want,” he ordered and his voice held a mean edge. “If you’re gonna make big money you got to do special things; know what I mean?”

  She wasn’t sure she did, but as she hesitated he looped the whip lash around her neck. Gripping both ends, he pulled it tightly around her throat until she gasped for air.

  “Ain’t this how the dog eaters kill the puppies they’re havin’ for dinner?” he asked softly. “Just garrote by pullin’ both ends of the lash?” He pulled both ends with his big hands and her hands went up in a panic, unsuccessfully trying to get her fingers under the thin leather. He smiled at her fears and she knew he enjoyed frightening almost as much as he enjoyed hurting.

  “Missy, it’s easy to kill a woman this way, real easy!”

  “Please!” she gasped, frightened now. He was a little crazy, she thought. “Please! I’ll do anything you want!”

  “Anything?”

  “Anything!” She glanced desperately toward her clothes, where she had hidden her little knife. It was too far away, she couldn’t reach it.

  “On your knees, bitch!” He jerked her off the bed by the whip lash and she clawed frantically at it. He was not only sadistic and crazy, he was also drunk. For the next few minutes, he did unspeakable things to her, never loosening the lash around her throat. And after that, he wanted her to do unspeakable things to him. She rather enjoyed hurting him. It had not occurred to her that men would pay for such as this. Gray Dove decided she might enjoy working as a white man’s whore. She figured it was a soft, easy life and she was basically lazy.

  The men from the saloon came about then and as the scout himself dressed, he made her parade naked up and down in front of the men so they would offer more money.

  She was not left unfulfilled that night as the soldiers and cowboys paid to mount her. She even began to have a grudging respect for the scout who drove hard bargains for her favors, taking nearly all the money the soldiers had left from their pay.

  The men brought the little private along who had been passed out across the table. The scout charged the other men money to watch when the private said it was his first time.

  The boy had drunk too much whiskey, Gray Dove thought contemptuously as he sweated and pumped over her for a few minutes with no results. After awhile, the other men started to jeer him.

  “Hey, Billy, you done rode far enough to get from here to St. Louie!”

  “Hey, honey, you shoulda charged that one by the mile!” She was tired of this. Shoving him off, she ignored his humiliated face. “Next time, soldier boy, I charge you by the hour!”

  The men hooted and laughed. The boy shamefacedly gathered his clothes and they all left.

  It was almost dawn now as she turned to the big scout and held out her hand. “Okay, give me my share.”

  He ran his fingers through the pile of gold coins greedily before dividing them and pushing her pile toward her. “Honey, you just made me as much as I usually make in a month! Give some thought to us goin’ in business together.”

  She smiled and said nothing as she took her share and quickly dressed. Why should she cut him in when she did all the work? It occurred to her that if she didn’t end up as Iron Knife’s woman, she had stumbled on a way to get rich off the whites in the gold mine country. She heard some of the tribes had gotten so bad on whiskey, they were working their women as whores around the white trading posts to buy liquor. She’d gladly whore for Iron Knife if he wanted her to; even give him all the money. But she had a feeling that warrior would not be willing to share his woman with other men.

  “It’s morning,” she said as she finished dressing. “Will you take me to the captain now?”

  He yawned and scratched his scalped spot. “I forgot about that. Why’d you say you needed to see him?”

  “I didn’t, White Man.” She wasn’t going to let anyone else carry the story, beat her out of the reward if there was one. Gray Dove had tried to get rid of Summer by killing her and that hadn’t worked. This would be easier because someone else would do the work and she wouldn’t have to worry about hiding the body.

  “Hell, missy, let’s go get some breakfast. I’ll take you to the captain after that. I’m so hungry, my belly thinks my throat’s been cut!”

  The sergeant at the mess first thought it might be against regulations to feed an Indian, but he looked like he was afraid not to, Gray Dove decided as she watched him look at the scout. Her admiration for the big man grew. She liked power and fear. He seemed to wield both well.

  Now as they walked away after eating, he belched loudly and reached for a cigar. They crossed the parade ground and he pounded on a door.

  A high, nasal voice asked sleepily, “Who is it?”

  “It’s me, sir,” the scout said. ”It’s important.”

  “It better be!” The young man peered around the door as he opened it.
”It’s unusual to wake an officer on a Sunday morning for no good reason.”

  The captain had bad skin, Gray Dove noticed as he peered at her. “You woke me over a damned squaw?”

  “She says it’s important!”

  “I hope for your sake it is! Nothing but trouble and boredom ever happens out here on the frontier. If I ever manage to get transferred back to New York—”

  He didn’t finish the sentence as he flung the door wide and motioned them in. His shirt collar hung open and he sat down behind his desk and Gray Dove sat down across from him. The white scout stood behind her, smoking his cigar.

  “It’s about the white girl—” she began.

  “What white girl?” He paused in the middle of a yawn. She had his undivided attention now.

  “The one who disappeared off the stagecoach a few weeks ago.”

  “Gawd Almighty!” The scout moved around to the side and looked at her with wide eyes. “Honest, Cap’n Baker, if I’d knowed it was that important, I’d have brought her last night.”

  The officer picked absently at a pustule on his thin face. “Are you talking about Miss Van Schuyler?”

  Gray Dove leaned back in her chair, enjoying their undivided attention. She studied them both through the haze of smelly smoke. “I don’t know her by that name,” she answered. “They call her Summer.’”

  “Summer! Summer Priscilla Van Schuyler, the missing Boston debutante!” The captain leaned toward her excitedly. “Where is she?”

  She laced her fingers together, enjoying the moment. The white girl was rich and important, she could tell by the man’s excited tone. “First, is there a reward?”

  “Why, you damned, greedy little—!”

  “Now, Cap’n.” The scout gestured with his cigar. “We both know that girl’s rich father sent gold down here as a ransom, and that maid of hers is still in town waitin’ with the uncle for some word. This little squaw probably don’t know nothin’ after all. She’s just heard a little gossip.”

  “You’re right, of course.” The young officer leaned back in his chair and surveyed Gray Dove. “Just after the money and never even saw the girl.”