Cursed (closed)

I figure four campsites including my own will fill the wagon. Some folk seem to collect a lot of stuff. You wouldn't think they was part of a military bagage train. At least they have their stuff packed and ready to go by the time the wagon shows up. Tents are last to come down.

Just as I'm fixin' to walk over and see to Ashe's packin', there is a cry and a crash. I look back and see the wagon teamster holdin' his arm which is bleedin' bad. Mishandlin' a large trunk, he's cut himself up pretty good. He won't be drivin' a team for awhile. One of the women folk sees to bandagin' his arm and then I send him away to see the surgeons. Two troopers are hangin' about, probably trying to avoid any real work by lookin' busy. I don't buy it. I get the smaller one to go with the injured teamster. The other one looks big enough to be tossin' packed trunks around without hurtin' himself.

"Private!" I ask, "You drive one of these here rigs?"

He replies in the affirmative.

"Alright then," I say, "Get to work loading and then your drivin' it."

He looks about at the work to be done and towards Ashe's tent.

"Today, Private!" I bark at him.

That gets him movin'. I didn't have to come with the wagon but it gives me a chance to see Ashe if only for a few minutes. She's tendin' to her horse, looks like. I try place the horse between us and anyone watchin'. Don't want to be seen as shirkin' my own duties just to steal a kiss. But I do anyways.

"Sleep well?" I ask after a quick good mornin' type kiss, "I can't stay. Gots things to do but the private there will give you a hand loadin'." "Load our stuff last and hitch your horse to the wagon." "Then the driver can take you and the load to the staging area about two miles south of here."

"I doubt we'll make ten miles by dark. Everyone will be camping rough for the first night anyways."

I steal another quick kiss.

"I'll find you after dark."

Then I'm off before I set anymore of a bad example for the men.

I watch him depart, and then the private's eyes find mine again. He's loading a wagon, I'm supposed to ride next to him. It's going to take every ounce of strength to keep him from getting too close, for his own good.

I finish grooming my horse and decide to saddle him up, he's capable of carrying his own gear for now. I pack a few smaller items in his saddle bag before ducking back into the tent to see what can be done.

I struggle with the cot before finally figuring out the mechanism that folds it into itself. I tie up the bedding it a sheet and pack the books and my clothing in the trunk. There's not much food left but I know it shouldn't go to waste so I wrap it and pack it in Jethro's small canvas bag that is hung over the back of the chair. The tent will be packed by the soldiers, as well as the furniture. I take a look around and see nothing else that needs attending to.

Its creeping into the afternoon now. The men are taking tents down, a few of them show up and remove the furniture. I just try to stay out of their sight. I can feel the stares. They are drawn near to me like moths to a candle flame.

I busy myself fetching water for the horse. I wonder when Jethro will be back. He is my shield in a way, he keeps the others in check. I wonder how long it will be before looking and watching isn't enough for them anymore.

There are four Union soldiers plus the large private taking down tents. That and drinking, a bottle appears periodically from under a coat and they all take turns having a drink. It would appear the four have killed a large part of the bottle before meeting up with Ashe's wagon driver to be. They all seem to split there time evenly between working, drinking and ogling Ashe. It is while she is down by the creek amidst a bunch of gnarley cottonwoods that they make an appearance as a group minus the large private. A new bottle is passed back and forth between them. Of course the malingerers and least trustworthy are assigned menial tasks such as wagon loading. The good ones are riding patrols.

"Well, what do we have here, boys?" says one of them, "Elkins whore!"

They spead out between the camp above the creek bank and the creek itself, with Ashe in the middle.

"I was there when we found her," says another, "She ain't no whore." "She's a damn Reb!"

"I hear she fucked the Lieutenant to get him to let her go," another chimes in, "What do you think she lets Elkins do to her?"

"I know what I want to do with her," says the first drunken soldier, "I'm just not sure what I want to do to her first!"

This gets a laugh from the other three.

"So what does a Reb spy have to do to not get herself hung?" a third asks, "And why is it that only the officers and senior NCOs get a go at her?" "Don't seem fair, does it, boys?"

All three are sporting obvious erections through their thin woolen pants. One is even playing with it as he stares at Ashe's chest. One has a knife in his hand which he brandishes.

"Maybe we should have a go at her," says the knife wielder, "If she stays nice and quiet, we won't have to get rough. She might even like it." "And if she don't well..."

The bottle goes around again as each man takes a good drink of liquid courage.

"How about it, Reb?" Ashe is asked, "How about you give us a bit of what you been givin' the officers and sergeants?"

They all take a step forward to within arms reach of Ashe.

I hear them follow me down to the creek. It's hard not to with them crashing through the undergrowth. Now I am a little nervous, since I am alone and out of sight of anyone decent who might stop whatever madness these three oafs have planned for me.

I ignore the comments, at first. A whore isn't the worst I've ever been called and it is partially true, though I've never accepted money for any sexual favors. Never needed to. I am sure I can charm at least one of them into backing off but I don't know about three at once, if I was still a demon I could.

They're all liquored up and dangerous, but the most they can do is wound me. I'm more afraid of them figuring out I am not human than anything else.

"No one has a "go at me", " I emphasize.

I can see exactly what they're doing, and it doesn't intimidate me. One of them is licking his lips and another rubbing his hard cock through his pants. They are starving for a woman. I can smell the desperation even though the liquor.

I see the knife, I keep it locked in my peripheral vision as they advance. I try to come up with a plan that doesn't involve me killing them or allowing them to violate me. Nothing is really coming together. Unfortunately for them.

I take a breath and focus on the one in the middle who seems to be the ringleader, his clothes are dirty. His eyes are dark brown, I stare into them. He tilts his head to the side like he is confused. I drop my voice a register and soften it. It has a lovely sing song quality when I do that. It helps with the charming.

"You cannot touch me, you are not allowed," I tell him. I can see the other two men watching him intently. I know this will have an effect on them too, just not as strong.

"I kin touch you if I want-" he attempts to say but stops.

"You cannot touch me, ever," I repeat.

"I want to touch you," he says, his voice sounds lazy and sleepy now. His posture relaxes.

I see the knife drop to the ground. The other men are entranced as well, though not as strongly.

"I know you want to but you cannot," I repeat yet again. I think the alcohol is making him more ornery than he might be otherwise.

I start humming, then singing softly. Its some kind of hymn and I am making it up as I go along, the creek is at my back and I have nowhere to go. This better work. I remember that my singing put Jethro to sleep yesterday afternoon. Hopefully it works on these three, drunk and asleep by the creek is a much better alternative than dead. Although, with the intentions they have I think death would be justified.

The bigger man to my right starts fighting it, hard. He looks like a mean drunk. He starts advancing and trying to paw at my dress. My fight or flight response tells me to run but I have nowhere to go except into the cold rushing water.

He moans as he tries to shake the last of my charm away, then he grabs my wrist and yanks me away from the other two. My surprised yelp startles them.

"Hey, where you goin' we said we was gonna share her," the ringleader's face flushes and he reaches for me and my panic sets in.


Shit.

There ensues a bit of a tug o' war as the ringleader and his larger partner struggle to get both hands on Ashe. The booze has obviously affected their minds and judgement to attempt this so near the disassembling colony of camp followers. Also obvious is that there can be no 'witness' to their attack. Or so it would appear.

"Hey!" a voice calls out from atop the creek bank, "Leave her be!"

The tall, well built and handsome private Jethro has assigned to drive the wagon with Ashe and Jethro's gear jumps down amidst the struggle for possession of Ashe. He grabs Ashe himself and wrenches her free of the grip of her molesters. Setting her behind him, he plays the heroic rescuer and confronts the would be rapists.

"Get back to work!" he barks at them, "Or else I'll tell Elkins what you been doin' here."

He launches some well placed kicks to the men's backsides and easily drives them off. With barely concealed grins on their faces the drunkards climb the bank and disappear. Turning around, he reaches out gently moves her hair back which has become a bit dissheveled during the wrestling for possession of her.

"You're safe now, Miss," he says, "My names Henry." "I won't let them hurt you."

Without any hint or expression of obtaining permission, he sweeps Ashe up into his huge strong arms, carries her to the bank top and sets her down.

"Can I do anything for you, Miss?"

Ashe had never felt on edge like this before. It was strange. She was thankful of course, to be out of that weird pull to and 'fro and safe. At least, she thought she was moderately safe with that rowdy lot gone. She was still settling her nerves when the stranger scooped her up, making her squeal softly in shock, before setting her down again. Her eyes wandered his chiseled jaw, his deep blue eyes, she could almost taste him.

She shuddered slightly when his fingertips grazed her shoulder to push her hair away. She kept her eyes on him, watching his every move.

"No, I don't need anything," as soon as she said it she realized her bucket was near the water's edge. She meant to fill it for her horse.

"I do need to water my horse though," she gestured to the wooden bucket tipped on it's side by the creek bed.

She wanted him close and wanted him far away at the same time. He would make her have thoughts she didn't think she should have, or at least thoughts Jethro wouldn't want her to have. She felt an odd sense of loyalty to him, he took care of her after all, made sure she had what she needed, and some things she wanted too. Shouldn't she be loyal? She shook her head lightly, loyalty was new.

"Right away, Miss," Henry says and almost runs to get water for Ashe's horse.

He places the bucket down in front of the horse and talks gently to it for a moment.

"If there is nothin' else, Miss," he says, "I should get back to work." "I don't want to get the Sergeant riled up against me."

As promised, the contents of Ashe and Jethro's tent are loaded last and atop the wagon. With the help of at least two of the drunken would-be rapists, Henry takes down the tent and stows it aboard. Half a dozen loaded wagons line up in this part of the camp ready to join up with the rest of the camp follower baggage train. A small town is apparently on the move as wagons begin to converge carrying everything from foodstuffs, children, dismantled wooden buildings, a blacksmith's forge to three wagons with what can only be whores, painted ladies with indiscreet low cut bodices.

Eventually a column almost half a mile long is assembled and ready. Henry makes to tie Ashe's horse to the wagon.

"Will you be riding with me, Miss?" he asks her, "Or would you like to ride?" "It's not safe for a beautiful woman like yourself to be about alone."

"Begging your pardon, Miss, for being so forwards and speakin' out about you bein' so beautiful and all."

"It's alright Henry," I call him by name, "you'll find I am not easily offended."

I think for a few moments while the last of the gear is loaded. I do not trust myself near him right now. I don't feel much like conversing either, which is what I know will happen if we ride together.

"Since we're not going far, I think I will ride alongside the wagon," I say as I pat my horse's neck affectionately. He stands patiently, chewing the last pieces of hay he has found scattered over the dusty ground. It'll be good for him to have a new patch of grass at a new camp. I haven't seen Jethro in a piece, i'm figuring he is still finishing up his duties before the wagon train starts moving.

"Where are those wagons going," I ask Henry absently. I see a small group of wagons heading North, with no escort.

"Them folks aren't accompanying the Army, miss. Sometimes families will camp with their loved ones if they're near enough, but when they Army moves on they go on back home to tend their land," he explains.

Made sense to me so I left it at that. Henry checked the horses hitched to our wagon and offered both a drink from what was left of my horse's water. He was quite a strapping young man. I wondered if he had a wife at home.

"Should be moving soon enough," he assures me.

It's gettin' on supper time by the time I can get the baggage train and camp followers moving. Hardtack biscuit soaked in coffee served in the saddle suffices. We'll make two miles and then set up camp. It's an hour before the end of the column starts to come up to where I am.

I spot Ashe astride her horse riding alongside our wagon. Showing a lot of leg riding like a man in that dress. Her whole calf is revealed. A bit of chest too. Not as bad as those in the whore wagons but still a bit much for a decent woman to be displayin' to any man who rides past. She does cut quite a figure though. I didn't mind when it was just the two of us for the last couple of days. I can see the private I left to drive the wagon looking down at her from atop the wagon. Probably getting himself an eyeful. Our wagon is next to last and when the last has gone by I ride up beside her.

"Everything okay? " I asks her.

I reach down and flip her dress back down a bit. The wind has it up high enough now to show a bit of knee.

"Maybe we ought to get you a proper saddle for a lady to ride, " I say, "Are you warm enough?" "Maybe you can wear a cloak or somethin' if you're feelin' chilled."

I catch Private Adams looking down at us.

"Eyes on your team, private!" I snap.

His head and eyes snaps straight ahead. Maybe I should find another driver. Henry Adams has a reputation. Womenfolk seem to like that clean cut, square jaw look and the big shoulders. Even with a wife in Lexington waitin' for him.

I'm looking for him, wondering how he will find me on all these people. It has thinned out quite a bit with the locals leaving for home. After the soldiers, Chuck wagons, and light artillery rides out the baggage train looks almost miniscule in comparison.

I see him finally, astride his heavy horse and I feel...safe.

He fusses at me about my clothes and saddle, then snaps at Henry which almost makes me laugh. I let the wagon pull slightly ahead so my driver doesn't hear our conversation.

"I'm not exactly a lady, remember? And no, I'm fine. My shawl is in my saddle bag, if I needed it I would be wearing it," I tell him gently. I'm finally figuring out how to be assertive without hurting his feelings. I won't be told what to do.

Not exactly human to be truthful, I think. But I am.

"I just don't want any of the men gettin' the idea your less than a lady, " I say, "Adams there would drive that team right over a cliff before he took his eyes off you." "Not that I could blame him."

"It will be five days before we get to the Alabama border and Bridgeport. We should be there with any luck by the 23th or 24th."

The last week of August and the first two weeks of September has seen the Army of the Cumberland under General Rosecran cross the Tennessee River and pursue General Bragg's forces as far as Chickmauga Creek in northeastern Georgia and seizing Chatannooga from the rebel forces. But until we got a third bridge across the Tennessee at Bridgeport to start getting enough supplies across it's been touch and go. Been rainin' a lot too, makin' road travel for supply wagons real slow. Weather ain't been as warm as it usually is neither makin' things miserable for everyone.

"Looks like we got more rain comin'," I add while myself tryin' to not spend too much time lookin' at Ashe's chest, "You might be needin' more than a shawl."

"Get Private Adams to dig you out a hat and coat."

The cold rain the other night didn't seem to bother her much. But would be a shame to ruin her pretty dress. And might keep Adams from driving the team off the road.

We've dropped back behind the wagons. So I figure I can get in a quick kiss without too many of the men seein' us do so. I steer my big gelding up next to her and lean down to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"It will be well after dark before I will see you. Be safe."

I spur on ahead to beside our wagon.

"Adams!" I bark, "See the lady is looked after when we stop for the night in about two more hours." "Looks like rain so see she's got shelter and a fire."

"And keep your eyes and mind on your duty. Else I will have you policin' the hosre line and shovellin' shit till this war is ended."

"Yes Sergeant!," is the reply he gives and the only one I was lookin' for.

With a last look at Ashe, I spur on ahead back to the front of the column.

I start thinking of ways to get out of riding sidesaddle. I can do it but it is not my preferred method. I ride astride, which is not ladylike necessarily but feels more secure. Course if I had everything my way I would likely not be wearing much at all, ever and I would probably ride bareback.

It will rain soon I know, I can smell the change in the air. It's hardly cold enough for a coat and I don't have any fear of getting sick like everyone else does.

"I suppose I'll play along," I sigh in resignation. I do not like bartering for what I want with him. I wished he would just leave me to do what I wanted.

He keeps talking, a few days to Alabama he says. All I'm really thinking about is how good it will feel to undress and let my skin breathe tonight.

When he tells me to be safe I assure him that I will when he kisses me, which just makes me hungry. He rides ahead and I stay back a ways behind the wagon, out of Henry's sight. He looks over his shoulder and around behind the wagon twice to make sure I'm still there.

"I'm not going anywhere!" I call out the second time. He looks startled, like he did not expect me to say anything, and goes back to minding the horses and wagon. Men...

I let myself daydream a bit, my horse seems to understand what we are doing and plods along beside the wagon without any encouragement from me. The two hours turns into three and then almost 4 before we stop for the night.

I tend the horses while Henry sets up a crude Army tent, much smaller than the one currently packed away on the wagon. Looks like we will be sleeping on bedrolls tonight. No cots to tip over, I think and smile to myself. I can still feel his eyes on me as the sun dips below the treeline and dusk settled over camp. The sky darkens even more as the cooler air and rainclouds move in.

"I found a coat, miss" he offers kindly.

"Thank you, Henry," I smile and take it from him. He hovers around the wagon while I gather what we need for the night and stow it in the tent. I'm trying to keep busy, stay away from him.

Its well past dark when Henry begins to light a fire but almost immediately it begins to rain. And rain hard. So abandons the attempt and brings a lit lantern to the small tent, hanging it from the roof pole of the 'A' style tent.

"I'll be back in a bit, Miss Ashe," he says and then leaves.

Half an hour later he returns soaking wet with two covered pans of stew and coffee, plates, cups and spoons. He ducks and squats down to enter the tent. His hair is wet and slicked down and steam rises of his thinner summer uniform coat.

"I got us somethin' to eat and drink, Miss," he says, "I hope you don't mind me sittin' a spell." "You wouldn't toss a ni... a dog out in that weather."

"'sdies the Sergeant said I was to look out for you if there was anything you needed."

He shivers a bit as he starts to dole out stew and coffee in the cramped confines of the small tent.

The half hour of peace and quiet is a nice change, I get a little worried until I find the rain sheet in the wagon for my horse. I try to at least keep the saddle dry as I cover his back, he doesn't seem to mind standing in the rain, just keeps eating while hes tied to the wagon. Ah well, hopefully it doesn't get too cold tonight.

I wrap myself in the coat but my hair is wet and curling up on its own from being so damp, I wring out the ends. The cold doesn't affect me too much on its own but adding the rain on top of it might make for a miserable night. At least there will be someone to keep me warm. I smile at the thought of Jethro and I alone in the tent listening to the rain come down. Its very quaint, and unlike me to find enjoyment in something.

Henry returns with dinner and I realize that I have to eat in front of him, at worst I could refuse but I don't want him to be suspicious. I imagine Jethro will be back soon so maybe if I just eat real slow I won't have to finish my plate. There's no sense in me eating when someone else could use it more than me.

"Thank you," I tell Henry quietly. I stare at the food. I can smell it but as usual the urge to eat is absent. Turns out its hard to force yourself to intake something you really don't wanna. water drips down the back of my dress inside the coat and it makes goosebumps form up and down my arms.

I take a bite. It feels warm and mushy, but has no taste. I despise the texture immediately. I manage to choke it down without Henry noticing much, i'm hoping my facial expressions don't give away my distaste.

I hope he returns soon. I am tired of the charade.

"Maybe, the Sergeant bunked down with the men?," all too pleasantly said, is what I hear as I'm pulling open the tent flap.

"Get the hell out of my tent, Adams," I bark at him, "Now!"

He scrambles out into the driving rain. I glance inside.

"What are doin' in my tent, Private?"

"Just gettin' some shelter from the rain, Sarge," he explains.

"You wouldn't need shelter if you were wearing your hat and coat," is my response, "Where are your hat and coat?"

"Back of the wagon," is his sheepish reply.

I know his game and I'm not happy about it. So I hit him. A good right hand that catches him on the cheek. His foot slips in the mud and he goes down on one knee. You can see the look in his eye when he starts to get up. But Adam's ain't stupid. A philanderer, yes, but not stupid. He knows he can't hit a sergeant, not over being found in the sergeant's tent.

"I said shelter and fire not your company," I sneer at him harshly, "Get your ass back to your own tent."

Adams doesn't reply. Wouldn't be a good idea anyways. He skulks off donning his greatcoat and hat. The whole incident with Adams is over in a minute. I turn and duck low to enter the small tent.

Seems like Jethro didn't trust me to steer a conversation. Although I know exactly where Henry's mind was going. I pull the tent flap back long enough to see him getting up, I heard the sound over the rain of skin on skin.

"You know he may not have the purest thoughts but he hadn't done anything wrong....yet," I tell Jethro as he ducks into the tent, the flap falls behind him, "and you know I can take care of myself."

I realize at that moment I never told him about what happened by the creek earlier. Should I?

Instead I hand him my barely touched plate of stew, indicating he can have it if he wants it. I sip the hot coffee instead, although there's no flavor it warms my core when it hits my stomach. I like that feeling.

I pull off the outer coat and lay it aside away from the bedroll. My ankle boots join the pile. I fold my feet under myself nearly to keep them warm.

The stew is appreciated. I tuck in heartily.

"Your way," I say between mouthfuls, "Would have ended up with him under one of your hexes, his throat slit or you having him as a late night meal." "Soldiers like him enter the tents of unmarried women with one thing on their mind."

"Hell, any man who so much as sees you has one thing on his mind!"

I ain't not goin' to take myself off that list either. She's takin' off her coat and I'm shovellin' stew down my throat with one eye on her the whole time. Havin' to shrug off her coat and lean over to take of her boots in the confines of our small tent displays her ample bosum nicely. I bet Adams was lookin' at Ashe's tits all day. Gets me going that's for sure.

"A proper lady would have ordered him out of her tent." "You may think our human conventions are stupid but Adams there might end up dead, by your hand or mine, or in the stockade if he is not 'discouraged'."

The stew plate goes near the tent flap as I shrug off my coat and strip off my boots. Hangin' my gun belt from the center ridge pole keeps 'em off the damp ground.Dawn comes early enough and I got a drummer boy coming to wake me at first light. Ashe and me didnt do it this mornin', I'm wonderin' if she's hungry. Kneeling I turn towards her and give her a small kiss while my hand finds the hem of her skirt and folded leg.

"Hungry?" I ask Ashe as my hand moves up her thigh.

He is so agitated he barely chews his food. I almost tell him to slow down but the more he talks the more irritable it makes me. I try to hide it, but I am frustrated. I am again reminded why I used to eat humans and not co habitate with them. Life was a whole lot simpler then.

"I suppose you'd like me better homely then, as if I ever had a choice," I'm trying not to be mean but I don't think it works.

For the love of it all he hurts my feelings so easily, I hate it. I hate the feelings, the ripping and tearing feelings like his harsh words cut through me. I know what I am and what I'm made for. I've never wanted to make excuses for it, that's just the way it is.

Everything he says and does is just trying to make me into something that I am not, a lady....and a human one at that. I've played that part before.

"Don't touch me, how is that for ordering someone out of my tent?"

I regret it immediately. Fuck.

What the hell did I do to set her off again? Sluggin' Adams was a whole lot better option than her puttin' some sort of satanic hex on him or slittin' his throat. If she thinks just talkin' would have dissuaded him, she don't know men like him at all. Or what effect she has on men. He would have kept on trying to get with her. I sit back on my heels.

"There ain't but one person in this camp that don't think you're a whore or a Reb spy," I inform her, "And he knows you're a spawn of Satan." "Without me lookin' out for you the God-fearin' folk in this camp would drive you out to live with the whores."

"And without me 'every' man in this camp will make his play to get with you."

That can't be what she wants. Not after what passed between us out in the woods.

"I know you can probably take down any man in this camp but if I don't play my part as your protector, you're going to be spendin' every minute fendin' off immoral advances from every man within sight." "How many men can you defeat at once?" "Can you defend yourself against a gang of drunks lookin' to save a dollar by rapin' whores instead of payin' them?" "Are you as powerful now as you was before you gained a soul?"

"Maybe you can defend yourself or deflect a man's advances. But what about the women folk?" "How long before they get together to drive you out?" "You think they will just sit aside as their men make excuses to be with you or even just stare as you walk or ride past?" "I see how other men look at you. I don't like it much but cohabitting with a succubus has it's price, I guess." "But their wives will tar and feather you as a Jezebel even if you don't lie with their men."

I have to stop and take a breath after that speechifying.

"You act like this is fun for me, being told I can't go anywhere or do anything by myself. You remember I've spent thousands of years alone? Sleeping, eating, traveling, riding," I paused trying to grasp the words I needed," living every waking moment....alone. You think I care what anyone else thinks of me?"

Why couldn't he just understand! I felt done, done being looked at and lusted after, done with all the insane irrational feelings that overtook me at a moment's notice for no other reason than the words coming out of his mouth. I clutched one hand to my chest, feeling like my heart was about to claw its way out of my chest.

The rain was already letting up, it was now a full roar on the canvas tent. I wasn't even angry anymore, I just felt exhausted from so much *feeling*.