Behind Enemy Lines

[cumnchat]

BEHIND ENEMY LINES ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, Closed for pink_silk_glove

"CLAUDETTE! REMEMBER TO COLLECT THE EGGS!"

The shrill voice pierced Captain Eugene Carter's consciousness, he gripped his pistol in one hand and makeshift crutch in the other and hobbled over to the small window in what he assumed was a slave's hut on a plantation somewhere in Georgia near to the border with Tennessee.

He had been involved in the Battle of Chickamauga against the Confederate forces, his company of Yankee soldiers had been overrun by the rebels, so far as he knew he was the only survivor as he had been wounded in the thigh and could barely walk, he had hidden under the bodies of dead comrades and played dead as the rebels marched over them. When night fell he crawled to the relative safety of the surrounding trees and cut himself a crutch then not knowing which direction to go he stumbled on until he found this group of huts, he entered one and seeing it was vacant he gratefully lay down on the straw palliasse and slept until he was woken.

Eugene peeked out of the window, there being no glass, just an opening in the wall and not more than twenty yards away was a pretty young woman who he considered to be no more than nineteen or twenty, she wore a simple dress that looked homemade, she was feeding the chickens that roamed around the area, her delicate hands were red and showed that she was unused to work of any description.

So typical of Southerners, he thought to himself, make the slaves work their asses off while the ruling class lived off their sweat, only, here, there were no slaves. He was wondering why when the girl looked up and looked right at him, he pulled back out of sight wondering if she had seen him and if so what would she do? Run to the mansion and call someone or come and investigate herself? If she came in by herself he would need to deal with her quietly, there was no place to hide so he stood leaning on his crutch by the window with his pistol cocked, waiting, waiting.

 

[pink_silk_glove]

Her mother's harping voice chided her as she strode out into the morning air that licked at her skin with the evening's damp. It was a curse to be up with the chickens every day without relent. She could barely get her clothes on as she dragged herself out of bed each morning, pinning her golden locks back simply in their tangled curls without any appropriate preening. These bland dregs, work clothes, hung in pleats to the ankles of her boots, trudging in sulk across the beaten earth of the yard, damp clumps of ungroomed grass dampening her hemline and the small woven basket lined with cloth hanging from her cocked elbow. As always her protests were rendered futile by her mother's admonishment, reminding her that fetching eggs was far more palatable than milking cows as her older sister Dorothy had been put to. Only Elizabeth, the eldest of the three was spared morning yardwork as she looked after her own baby boy.

Yet even Mama's incessant nagging was full of disdain for the chores left to the four of them after the those ungrateful negroes had done run off, taking supplies, tools and even chickens with them, whatever they could carry or haul easily enough. The yankees were near. Mama hated them too - with smouldering rage, coming to steal all that they had worked for. The southern plantations provided the industry and the northern banks felt that it was their God-given right to skim all the profits, and so when Grand Dixie stood firm, the damn yanks would rather see it burned. It was jealousy, on a continental scale.

Claudette pulled up her hem as her boots stepped into the coop through the trampled gap in the fence. The slaves must have had damaged it before fleeing, the post uprooted from the earth and the wiring mangled flat. She ducked into the henhouse and the four or five hens still inside that had not risen to go peck the ground fluttered and cackled as she shooed them out before filling the basket with their eggs, one by one, her fingers digging in the old straw, the smell of the poop filling her nose and lungs as she wondered just how long she would have to continue this forsaken work, perhaps days, weeks, or forever.

Basket full, she crawled out of the smelly henhouse and stretched herself to her full five-foot-three height and feeling icky from the ordeal pulled back a loose strand of hair of two. Then with a grimace, Claudette brushed some straw from her skirt and wondering how much more might be clinging to her in unseen places, began to pick at her clothes, down her busty chest and the pronounced flare of her hips. She felt dirty and wanted nothing more than to get out of these dreadful rags, clean herself up and make herself properly presentable. Erroll would be coming by later and she couldn't let him see her looking so common and unkempt. Perhaps he would mend the coop fence for them. The damaged opening meant that they were losing chickens by the day, either by foxes or weasels or by the birds hopping off to roost somewhere else, such as the now empty slave huts. She had to go shoo them up and urge them back to the coop. Herding chickens was an impossible task, but Mama wanted to know how many were left.

Stepping carefully over the wires, she made her way to the huts, head down in purposeful stride as the smoke rose straight up from the chimney of the manor some 150 yards away. The dogs barked in the distance. The two bloodhounds, Simon and Beauregard had been Daddy's pride and joy. He had trained them to hunt and fetch. Reaching the first hut, she stepped in through the doorway and looked to the far corners and saw no hens, but then she gasped in shock when next to the window, just a few feet from her a man stood, his eyes piercing hers, dishevelled and with a crutch under his arm. His other hand gripping a pistol at the ready. He was white.

"Heee, omig ..." she inhaled in fright, soft blue eyes wide. Claudette fell against the edge of the doorway as her soft pale right hand patted her chest to keep her heart from jumping out. The basket that hung from her elbow swung and one of its eggs spattered to the floor. Her body shook and she wanted to scream but the suffocating lump in her throat prevented it. In the distance, the dogs barked but didn't seem to be getting any closer. They were probably still in their pen as they would chase the animals if allowed to run free. As she stood there paralyzed before the intruder, she realized that he was a soldier and had been wounded. His uniform was dirty but beneath the dust and dried splotches of mud it was definitely blue. He was a yankee!

 

[cumnchat]

Eugene watched from the window as the young woman came towards the hut that he was hiding in. He still didn't know for certain whether she had seen him or not but he knew that if she entered the hut she would see him, so he tensed himself ready to overpower her if it became necessary. He shrank into the darkest corner he could find and watched the door.

Creaking on rusty hinges the door slowly opened and the young woman's head peered round the door. He could see her looking around the room and tried make himself smaller in the dark corner near the window. Suddenly though he heard her gasp and saw her grab at the door frame and put a hand across her bosom. It didn't register in his mind at the time but it was very shapely and filled the front of her dress very well.

Eugene had been discovered. As he was not unprepared he was the first to react and aided by the makeshift crutch he lurched across the room with the intention of preventing her from crying out but he stumbled and fell into her putting out his arms and wrapping them around her neck and pulling her to the floor with him on top of her. The fall knocked the wind from both of them and as they lay together on the floor Eugene became aware of the shapely feminine body beneath him. As he gathered his wits about him he found himself looking into a pair of beautiful blue eyes, blue as the sky on a cloudless summer's day. Eyes that were wide with fright.

Eugene had been fighting continuously for three months and had no meaningful contact with a woman in that time, which, for a man like him, a womanising rogue who was never short of female company, was a lifetime. He made no attempt to move, enjoying the feel of the young woman's breasts pressed into his chest. He breathed in her faint scent, a flowery womanly scent that didn't assail the senses but then he gathered his wits again, knowing that he had to keep her quiet. To muffle any screams or shouts she might make he put his hand over her mouth.

"Please don't scream, I don't mean you any harm."

He didn't know how many people were in the mansion or if there were any men, so he tried a charm offensive. So he rolled awkwardly off her and sat up with his back against the closed door so there was no escape that way, he held her wrist so she had to sit beside him.

"Please accept my apologies Miss, I had no intention of startling you as I did, I mean you no harm. Excuse my manners, I do not usually introduce myself to beautiful young women in such a manner, I am Captain Eugene Carter of the Union army, beyond that I cannot say more. As you can see I am wounded, not too seriously but bad enough that I cannot move freely, could I ask for your kindness and ask for some soap and water and something with which to bandage my wound?"

Eugene paused and winced as pain shot through his leg and he almost fainted but he held himself together enough to state his case.

"You may well be considering handing me over to the rebels but if you do you will be as good as sentencing me to death, I have heard that they shoot all wounded prisoners, would you want my death on your conscience.?"

The effort required to speak overtook him and he lapsed into unconsciousness.

 

[pink_silk_glove]

He came at her immediately, tumbling the both of them into the dirt and loose straw. Claudette hadn't even known what had hit her. All that she could tell was that he lay atop of her, body to body and that she couldn't breathe. The moment seemed to stretch as if it would never end, but suddenly he lifted himself and rolled away to sit up and the door creaked to a clunk as it shut behind his back and he began to talk.

His speech was blathering. All that she could manage to discern was Union Army, something about a wound, the rebels and her conscience, and that his accent was northern, but in her panic Claudette could put none of it together.

The soldier's own breath was huffing and soon his voice faded and he slumped back, shoulders drooped as his eyes rolled back and fluttered shut.

When his grip of her wrist loosened, her initial shock subsided and she regained her breath in one heavy gasping inhale. As her wits returned to her she took him in. He was certainly rough around the edges with hair unkempt, a few days growth and his skin a patchy pallor. He stirred languidly in his daze causing Claudette to jump into action. Finding her feet shaky as she clambered to them, she yanked on the handle of the door but as he sat against it, it would barely budge. The Yankee was armed with a pistol and cutlass, so she knelt down and picked up the gun by the tip of its barrel between her thumb and forefinger and placed it with the eggs in her basket. Then she unfastened his sword and then gasped in horror once more as she saw the smeared blood all over his thigh. Taking the blade sheath and all, she stood again.

"Who are you," she hushed, a shudder in her lungs, scared to death who else might hear. "Who are you?" she demanded a bit louder, hoping to wake him. The dogs continued to bark in the distance and a rooster crowed nearby.

 

[cumnchat]

In the distance he could someone saying,

'Who are you?'

Then again, louder this time, more insistent,

'Who are you?'

He opened his eyes and through a foggy mist he could make out someone standing over him. His arms reached out clutching at the figure towering over him, he felt the damp hem of a skirt and reached higher still and found himself gripping, through the rough material, a pair of strong, firm thighs. He tried to pull himself up but only succeeded in pulling the figure down to kneel beside him. Eugene's vision began to clear and he found himself looking at what he thought at first was the face of an angel sent to to take him away to heaven. Her heart shaped face had tempting red lips and rosy cheeks on porcelain like skin framed by a tangle of golden curls cascading over her shoulders.

A stab of pain shot through his leg again and he grimaced and muttered weakly,

"If you are an angel then take me away and leave this pain behind, that's what angels of mercy do isn't it?"

He didn't know why but he reached up again and caressed her soft rosy cheek with the back of his forefinger before he realised with a shock that this was no angel but a living breathing woman. It all came flooding back to him then, the battle, lying amongst his dead comrades, hobbling through the forest and finding the hut he now found himself in and the frightened face of the young woman and her eyes, her beautiful sky blue eyes wide in fright, beyond that he remembered nothing.

"I am Captain Eugene Carter, who might you be, pray?"

 

[pink_silk_glove]

She froze as he clawed at her dress and the cutlass was rendered harmless as she lost the power to wield it. When his hand found the crook of her knee she toppled to his side. He was struggling in pain but he was still all man and she was all but girl, no match for him.

"If you are an angel then take me away and leave this pain behind. That's what angels of mercy do isn't it?"

The soldier's words did not register with her, only the raggedness of his voice and his desperate intrusiveness. Her blue eyes wide with fright and her chest full of air that her lungs refused to release, she had no idea just how tightly she was gripping the handle of his sword, the sheathed tip scratching in the dirt. At the same time, his pistol in her basket was in the moment wiped from her mind. As his other hand raised to brush her cheek, she winced and her breath let go, leaving her body in heavy trembles of fear and her eyes to well up with water, distorting her vision.

"I am Captain Eugene Carter, who might you be, pray?"

A tear overflowed her right eye and streamed down her supple young cheek as she regained her breath.

"Claudette?" she squeaked quietly, hoping that her response would appease his wild demeanor, her eyes pleading for no harm.

 

[cumnchat]

The pain from his wound fuddled Eugene's mind and he began to ramble, almost incoherent, his mind began to play tricks on him and he became delirious, wandering from one thing to another, one moment he was in the midst of battle, smoke, noise, and the anguished cries of dying men thundered in his ears. Then out of nowhere came a blue eyed golden haired angel to give him comfort, she told him her name was Claudette and he sighed happily whispering her name over and over. He felt safe with her and snuggled up close holding her tightly and resting his head on her soft warm chest. He was safe now with his angel, he could sleep now.

He closed his eyes and could smell her fragrance and his mind wandered again.

'This is a good place, nobody will see us here."

'Oh Eugene, you are naughty.'

A little giggle, and Rosie, one of the army of women who followed the real army around, providing meals and other types of sustenance to battle weary soldiers, was on her knees unlacing her bodice among the straw bales scattered around the barn.

Then it faded and he became still, fast asleep in his Angel's arms.

 

[pink_silk_glove]

The soldier suddenly calmed, arrested at the sound of her name, pacified by it. Claudette felt his grip loosen as the wisps of his breath spoke it repeatedly and his face came to rest presumptuously upon her bosom and began to burrow itself there. Such brazen contact caught her by storm and she remained frozen as she reigned in her breath. Still, the grip of fear held her rigid for several minutes. Unsure of just how many, with her legs tiring and the notion dawning on her that Mother would think her dawdling, her fear released enough to untangle herself. The soldier slumped against her and she shuddered at the thought that he might be dead until she heard his breath. Claudette propped him back against the wall and confirmed that he was asleep.

Gathering her wits to stand, she brushed herself somewhat clean and pulled the stands of hair from her face. She was in a tizzy to be sure. Stepping out to squint into the morning sunlight, Claudette almost set off back to the house with the weapons in hand. Quickly, she decided to stash them in the henhouse. She was the only one ever going in there these days and she could move them to a better spot later. She scurried over, catching the hem of her dress clumsily in the trodden fence, and cursing the small rip that it had caused. Pistol and blade hidden, she turned back and with head bowed she strode uncomfortably but forthrightly back to the manor with her basket of eggs as her mind frantically scrambled to figure out how to tell the news to Mother. Stepping into the kitchen, she placed the basket on the counter.

"What is it?" Mother asked, as if detecting her daughter's frayed state. Then she took a half dozen eggs from the basket for breakfast.

"Oh, nothing," Claudette dismissed, too scared to reveal what she knew.

"Well, don't just stand there," Mother admonished. "Put them in the pantry and get that dirty basket out of the kitchen."

There was a tension at breakfast, a tension that only Claudette was aware of as her sisters and mother fussed about as usual while she picked at her porridge and eggs. They all seemed too self-absorbed to notice. In these times everyone was under stress after all. Claudette ate in silence, anxious that the wounded yankee in the yard would wander in and cause havoc in some way. After breakfast, she excused herself from the table.

"Your dress has snagged somewhere," Mother reminded her. "Go mend it before it rips worse."

"Yes, Mama," she obeyed. This would take some time as she wasn't good at mending. Claudette wasn't the best any any chores really. She hadn't had to do many in her life. Neither had her sisters but even so they seemed better suited. Through it all she could not escape the image of the yankee in the hut, him lunging at her, then subsiding, his erratic speech, the wildness in his eyes - and the blood. It kept her pulse thumping and her nerves on edge. Sitting on the back porch, she finished the mend of her hem. The stitching was coarse, the alignment crooked and when she stood it didn't hang quite straight. Even though it was a dress for chores, the imperfection made her pout. She just wanted life to go back to normal. Once Dixie won this war, everything could go back to normal. She just wasn't sure how long she could wait around for it to happen.

If she let Mama know that her mending was complete, she would be given another chore, probably washing clothes, and if she loafed on the back porch she would be caught idle. Claudette stepped off the porch and walked on. There was no destination, but in her heart she knew where she would end up. He drew her back, like a butterfly to a daisy. Soon she was staring at the open door of the hut just a few yards before her. She couldn't go inside. It was too frightening. Instead she walked around to the back, in the shade of the sycamores, and peered in through the rickety gape of the window shutters. There he was.

 

[cumnchat]

Consciousness returned slowly to Eugene, his sight was fuzzy and for a few seconds as he looked around at the bare whitewashed walls he thought he was in prison, automatically he reached for his pistol but with a sinking heart he found it wasn't there nor was his sword, he was defenceless against whoever was holding him prisoner. His head hurt and he had vague memories of a dream he'd had where he had been visited by a beautiful, blonde, blue eyed angel. Yet even that seemed strange for she seemed to be frightened of him, why should that be, why would she visit him if she was frightened of him? Nothing made sense. As he lay there wondering what was next, fragments of what had happened came back to him.

He remembered seeing her feeding the chickens then she had come inside, then there was a blank until he remembered telling her his name and she told him her's; her name was Charlotte, NO, that's wrong, it was Colette, but that didn't sound right, he knew it was a pretty name, just like its owner, he smiled at the thought, if only things were different he'd be chasing her tail for certain. Claudette! Yes that was it , Claudette.

He looked around the room he was in now his vision had cleared, well, it wasn't a prison cell, there were no bars on the windows, in fact the windows were just holes in the wall, so where was he? At that moment he heard a noise outside the rear window and he glanced up and saw his angel's face peering through the window at him. He tried to call out to her but his throat was bone dry and all that came out was a husky, rasping "URRGGHH".

He scrabbled for his water bottle but that was empty so he lifted it up towards the face at the window and begged with his eyes,

"Pleeeese,"

It was all a mighty effort for him and his leg was throbbing, he hadn't had a chance to see how bad it was so he pulled himself into a sitting position and fumbled in his backpack for the small scissors he used to trim his beard and cut his trouser leg open to look at the wound, he breathed a sigh of relief, it was only a flesh wound but would need stitching, he had lost a lot of blood but with rest he would be okay. Eugene looked at the window again and Claudette was still staring at him with wide eyes but not so frightened now, he picked up the water bottle again and waved it at her then made the motion to drink from it and turned it upside down to show it was empty. He hoped she would understand what he was asking for.

 

[pink_silk_glove]

"Pleeeese."

His gurgling startled her as he spotted her through the window and her breath began to tremble once again. Her mind told her to bolt yet her feet refused to move as if trawled into the ground with brick mortar, but after a moment she realized that he was in real pain and struggling as he feebly waved his flask. Then with a heavy wince, he shifted himself to retrieve a pair of scissors. She watched with riveted attention as he began snipping his trouser leg away.

The wound was ugly, red black and smeared and made her knees weaken. His leg looked something like the slave Curtis' did a couple of summers back when one of the horses got upset and stomped on it something awful, except that the yankee's leg wasn't all crooked like Curtis' was. He was fetching her attention again, waving that flask, turning it right side down. His breath was desperate, his mouth was parched. He was bone dry. Claudette was finally able to move and disappeared from the window frame.

A couple of minutes later she returned, this time through the doorway, his sword in hand, the arm that held it still with a slight tremble, but at least the blade retrieved from its trove in the coop gave her the confidence to face him. She lifted its tip from her feet to a few inches from his knee.

"You need water, Mister?" she said, her voice small and trepid. "I can git you water but toss yer flask over here."

 

[cumnchat]

It seemed that his plea for water had either not been understood or ignored, the young woman's face disappeared from the window so he busied himself attempting to gauge the extent of his wound and how he might be able to walk. No more than a couple of minutes later the blonde angel , as he had begun to think of her, returned, this time stepping into the room but armed with his own sword. That she was unused to wielding a sword like his was soon apparent, the tip dragged on the ground in the dirt, leaving a groove in the dirt floor. He looked up to her, his eyes red rimmed from lack of proper sleep and exhaustion, he realised he must present a frightening sight when she lifted sword a few inches to hover just over his knee and Eugene began to wonder if she was going to kill him or incapacitate him further.

'You need water, Mister? I can git you water but toss yer flask over here.'

Her voice was small with no warmth to it but at at least she was less threatening than just a moment ago,

"Thankyou Claudette." was all he could manage to croak, he tossed his empty water bottle to her and said in a husky whisper, "I also need some food, some needle and cotton and some bandages if you can."

It required a great deal of effort to even speak and he kept drifting in and out of consciousness, he wasn't aware of whether she was there or not but he hoped she would stay with him for a while once he'd had some water, he needed to know what she intended, who was she with in the house, he'd heard one person calling her earlier, a voice that expected obedience from whomever it was directed at, in this case Claudette, so the chances were that it was her mother. Eugene was under no illusions about how the older generation of Southern womenfolk viewed Yankees like himself. If she had the slightest inkling he was here the outcome was a foregone conclusion, to save his life he had to convince Claudette to keep his presence secret.

 

[pink_silk_glove]

The longer that she stood there watching him in his rather helpless state, the longer that he sat slumped there not posing a threat, the more her nerves eased, yet they were still on edge.

"Thank you Claudette."

His eyes were red and desperate. His color was patchy. Awkwardly she bent down to pick up his bottle, that he had flopped at her feet, fumbling as she refused to take her eyes off of him while doing so. Flask finally in hand, she straightened up.

"I also need some food, some needle and cotton and some bandages if you can."

"I'll start with water," she said, her voice quavering around the lump in her throat, and sidestepped back out the way that she had come.

Into the trees, Claudette made her way down to the creek. The oft-traversed soil of the path was beaten hard and soon came out of the woods and into the sunshine of the rocky creek bed. In the spring the whole bed would be rushing full but this late in the year it was at it's lowest mark painting a swirling dark streak several feet wide through the washed stones. Still, there was plenty to drink. Picking her steps over the rocks, she knelt at the water's edge and dipped the soldier's flask in. She felt the urge to look around to see if she was alone but was too afraid to know if she was seen with a waterskin and a cutlass. If she was, she would certainly have some explaining to do. The cold water flowed around her fingers While the skin filled, its shape bulging, its weight gaining in bulk. Claudette wondered how the soldier had got here all alone, and what more would he want from her. Flask filled, she capped it and quickly hopped back over the clean dry stones to the trail.

A few minutes later she was back at the hut. All was quiet. Carefully, she knelt in the doorway, but this time left the sword at her side.

"Here's yer water, Mister," she said as she placed it on the ground before him and let him drink. After a moment her courage came up and she broached the subject. "You're a yankee," she said. The words nearly silenced the breeze in the boughs around them.

 

[cumnchat]

Eugene watched carefully as Claudette cautiously picked up his water bottle and responded to his request for other things as well with a curt but shaky,

'I'll start with water,'

Then she sidestepped back the way she had come, each never taking their eyes off the other. When she disappeared from view Eugene wondered if she would indeed bring him water or if she would tell someone about him, in which case he was doomed. The one hope he clung on to was that she would keep her secret to herself, she had so far, perhaps she found it exciting to have such an exciting secret.

She returned after just a few minutes although the uncertainty made it seem much longer. Kneeling in the doorway the sword was laid at her side and not threatening him like before. She placed the water bottle before him but kept out of his reach,

'"Here's yer water, Mister,'

He took a long draught of the refreshing cold water and poured some over the wound in his leg vainly trying to clean it, he knew the perils of an infected wound.

You're a yankee, she said.

Eugene gave a short laugh,

"HUH, full marks for observation, yes, I'm a Yankee, does that bother you? I mean I am no threat to you, I am just someone in need of your help. If I were to be caught by the Confederate Army I would die which would make no difference to the outcome of this stupid war, also if I lived it will make no difference. The difference of whether I live or die means a great deal to me though. My life is in your hands, keep me secret for a few days until I can walk and I'll be on my way, you can tell someone about me and I'll be taken away to die. Can you bear that on your conscience?"

He had made his pitch now he could only wait and see what she would decide. He was tired and weak and it showed in his voice.

"I ask you again, help me to heal my leg, cotton and a needle, something to use as a bandage and if you can manage it some food , one more thing could I have my pistol please so that I can decide when and how I should die."

 

[pink_silk_glove]

Claudette could visibly see the relief pour over his shoulders and trickle down his body just as the water poured into his mouth and filled his gut. His breath even became more relaxed as he carefully dowsed his wound. After a moment, the soldier began his philosophical lecture on war, life and death. As he spoke, his discolored face gaining resolve and planting the seeds of guilt within her with logic that she had never even bothered to consider before. The world was vast violent and indifferent, sweeping people up, people like this yankee captain while Claudette herself had remained largely unscathed. She cowered, dropping her eyes to her lap in shame at the end. He was just one man and she had been judging him without even knowing him.

"I ask you again, help me to heal my leg, cotton and a needle, something to use as a bandage and if you can manage it some food. One more thing, could I have my pistol please so that I can decide when and how I should die."

Mentioning his gun frightened her eyes wide and back upon his. Other than the rising and falling of her chest and a tremble in the strand of golden hair that had slipped down her temple, she was frozen in her spot. After a moment she opened her dry mouth to break the silence but was still unsure of what to say.

"Claudette?" Mother's voice called from the back porch of the house. "Claudette, where did you git yourself to?"

"I ... I gotta go," she stammered as she struggled to her feet. "I'll see what I can do." Then she nearly stumbled on her way out the door, catching her boot on the end of the cutlass that she was dragging. She couldn't take it with her and couldn't risk being seen with it. Quickly, she tossed in the dirt in the shade of the hut around the corner from the door, and picked up her hems to trot back across the yard.

"Yes, Mama?" she called back as she ran.

"Where have you been?" Mother asked her as she clambered up the back porch step.

"Feedin' the chickens."

"Well git washed up and help me fix lunch."

"Yes, Mama." The soldier would have to wait.

Claudette did her chores quickly yet almost absently. It was difficult to concentrate with such a secret on her brain. Captain Carter dominated her thoughts and her dicing of carrots and taters were settling distractions between unsettling vivid memories of her startling encounter in the empty slave hut that morning. Even lunch itself was awkwardly quiet, cutlery tinking against china as her mother and sisters sat around the table and ate in complete oblivion. Elizabeth the eldest had excused herself first. She was tall with ash blonde hair like their mother's, as she rose from the table, heeding the infant whine of her son Nathaniel at her breast. Sergeant Nathaniel Harrow Sr had gone down with a Confederate river boat earlier that spring. He had never met his son. Quiet and plain Dorothy was next with her long dark hair, neither curly nor terribly straight, and her sunken chin which gave her a permanently sullen countenance. She wasn't too tall but everyone stood above little Claudette. With brother Davy, the second oldest away at the front somewhere in Virginia, there were just the four of them left on the plantation since Papa had died. His liver had given up, Doc Ramsay had said. Papa had been sick for several months before his passing that summer.

The dishes needed washing. Again, the chore distracted her thoughts, but as soon as they were clean, he could not be avoided. Claudette's uncharacteristic eagerness to take the dishwater out to the garden raised a curious eyebrow from her mother but nothing more. With the bucket placed on the back porch step, she slipped into the laundry room for a couple of rags and the same needle and thread that she had used to mend the tear in her dress that morning. Then quietly she fetched the small pot of leftovers, mashed potatoes with peas and chicken gravy, that was supposed to be fed to the dogs.

Standing with her back braced against the door jamb of the hut, she breathed deeply, chest heaving slowly but heavily to keep herself calm. This was now the third visit and the yankee was still quite docile. There was still much to fear of his mystery, but certainly less than before. Claudette had the pot of leftovers with the spoon dug into the mash in her right hand and the rags and needle in her left. The pail of dishwater was not there, as it remained at the garden's edge where she had dumped its contents.

"Mister?" she began tentatively. "I brought you some things you asked for." Unsure of what he wanted first, her hands contemplated for a moment before deciding that his hunger was probably his priority and offered him the pot.

 

[cumnchat]

At the mention of his gun the girl's eyes widened in fright and she looked at him, the rise and fall of her ample bosom and the strand of golden hair that slipped down, her only movement, she was like a frightened rabbit he thought to himself. She opened her mouth as if to speak but no sound came out, then the silence was broken by the sound of the girl's mother calling her,

'Claudette? Claudette, where did you git yourself to?'

This stirred her into action and she struggled to her feet,,

'I ... I gotta go, I'll see what I can do.'

She stumbled out of the door catching her foot on the end of his cutlass, he heard her throw it down then indistinctly she made her excuses to her mother, Eugene was alone again. While he had the silence and the solitude, Eugene pondered his situation.

It seemed that his only hope of avoiding capture and almost certain death lay in the hands of Claudette, the pretty young girl who had discovered him. Thus far she hadn't told anyone about him and seemed to want to help him. She was frightened though, whether of him or what might happen to her if she were caught giving sustenance to the enemy he wasn't sure. He decided what he needed to do was gain her confidence, get her to trust him, he was in no position to threaten her, not yet at least but the more she helped him the deeper trouble she would be in if discovered.

Although it was probably no more than one and a half hours the time seemed endless before she stood in the doorway again her hands full, she took a deep breath as though gathering her courage then she spoke, tentatively, the tone unsure.

'Mister? I brought you some things you asked for.'

Then she proffered him a pot half full of leftovers from her family's meal,

In an attempt to make himself appear friendlier to her he smiled disarmingly and queried,

"Mister?,,,, Really Claudette, I thought that we were on better terms than that, in case you have forgotten, my name is Eugene, but I also answer to Gene, please use it. I am most grateful for the food, forgive me if I eat first and talk afterwards."

He dug the spoon into the mash and tried to eat slowly even though he was ravenous, all the time watching Claudette trying to gauge what she was thinking. When he had finished he cleaned the pot, even licking any that that had stuck to the rim and wiping his finger inside before licking his fingers.

"I see you have managed some rags for bandages and a needle and cotton, What talent do you have with regards to sewing? From the way your dress has been sewn I would hazard a guess that you are not an accomplished seamstress therefore it falls to me to sew my wound myself but in order to accomplish that I would need two pairs of hands so I will require your assistance."

Eugene hesitated, what he was about to ask her could well send her running to her momma and safety but it had to be done.

"I will need to remove my pants to my knees at least so I can see what I am doing, now fortunately or unfortunately depending on the circumstances I am blessed, or cursed with a rather large appendage and it will get in the way and block my view. I do not make this request lightly, normally we would have been acquainted a little longer than a few hours before I suggested such a thing but if you would be so kind as to hold my appendage out of the way until I am done."

He looked at Claudette, smiled and winked.

 

[pink_silk_glove]

He articulated himself in large sprawling sentences and she was still getting used to that. It struck her as odd and left her wondering if he was trying to impress her or if all northerners spoke that way. He re-introduced himself and again she had trouble discerning his meaning, trying to gauge how much of his words were admonishment. On the back foot for sure, she blushed and dropped her eyes in abortive shame. Then it was quiet for a while as he ate. She looked up at intervals, always finding his eyes on her. Despite his ragged state and lack of china or even furniture, he did carry some refinements, chewing with his mouth closed and finishing his portions. Given the circumstances she could forgive the licking of fingers.

"I will need to remove my pants to my knees at least so I can see what I am doing, now fortunately or unfortunately depending on the circumstances I am blessed, or cursed with a rather large appendage and it will get in the way and block my view. I do not make this request lightly, normally we would have been acquainted a little longer than a few hours before I suggested such a thing but if you would be so kind as to hold my appendage out of the way until I am done."

His request for so foreign and the cleverness in his expression bewildered her. Surely by appendage he did not mean his manhood. Her eyes scanned the captain's legs. Those appendages seemed of perfectly normal proportions. Claudette took a moment, her face perplexed, to allow the words to unjumble onto her tongue.

"Uh, you don't have underpants?"

 

[cumnchat]

Claudette's reply to his request was so unexpected that Eugene took a moment for it register.

'Uh, you don't have underpants?'

"I think you either did not understand or mistook what I was asking or you are confused. In the North we speak plainly but so as to not offend your delicate Southern sensibilities I used a less clearer term. The appendage I was referring to is my manhood or if you want an even plainer term, MY COCK."

He lay back and lifted his hips to begin sliding his uniform pants down his legs to his knees, his bloodied underpants followed, now, just the bottom of his shirt partially covered the part in question, just the tip showing, no more than an inch from the ghastly looking wound in his thigh.

"I think you can see now my dilemma if you don't or won't help me so I'll ask you again, indeed I beseech you. If you truly wish to help me will you do as I ask?"

He put such pleading into his voice, not all of it false. His wound needed to be cleaned, stitched, and bandaged to accomplish this he would need help, the only person who could supply that help was the beautiful young Southern Belle,

His fingers explored around the wound and he winced, he lifted his hand to look at his fingers which were now covered in blood. Eugene looked at Claudette again,

"Pleeese!"

He whispered.

 

[pink_silk_glove]

"The appendage I was referring to is my manhood or if you want an even plainer term, my cock."

He affirmed what she thought he had meant yet had not been able to believe. Was it really in the way? His glans protruded from the tail of his shirt. Catching sight of it made her heart race. His request was improper, or at least it would be for her to oblige him. Claudette quickly averted her eyes from not only his genitals but also the ugliness of the smeared wound as the yankee settled himself back against the wall of the hut with his thighs exposed.

"Pleease!" he begged.

He definitely needed medical attention. Claudette imagined how this might be handled in a field hospital. Surely nurses had to deal with men's bodies this way from time to time. She had never thought of such things before but now the urgent necessity had forced her to. Her arm reached out, then retracted as she had second thoughts about touching his bits. Fingers curled in their grasping posture, her hand hung in the air as she contemplated the logistics of the task. Finally deciding on her strategy, her arm extended once again with care and placing her hand on the end of his shirt, she wrapped her trembling fingers gently around his soft meat with only enough pressure to guide it aside, the fabric of his uniform separating her flesh from his. She hoped that he could do the stitching quickly.

 

[cumnchat]

Eugene's plea to Claudette to help him was real and sincere but for a brief moment he saw doubt in her eyes and she then averted her gaze away from both the wound and his member laying dormant along his thigh. Tentatively though she reached out her arm with her fingers curled, her hand hovered briefly over his genitals then she took her arm back,

"For God's sake make your mind up!" Eugene thought to himself.

Almost as if he had spoken out loud Claudette reached out her arm again and tentatively almost daintily held his manhood away from the danger area although she did not actually touch it, she used his shirt tail to cover it.

"Thankyou." He breathed

He got busy and threaded the needle with the cotton and unable to actually sterilise the needle he took a chance and began the task of sewing the wound together.

"If you feel faint Claudette please say so or look away, I will be as quick as I can. I might ask one more favour of you though, could you bandage the wound for me?"

He could not help looking at how Claudette was holding his manhood and he thought wryly to himself,

"What wouldn't I give to have her hold it because she wants to and not because I asked her to."

It had been almost six months since anyone besides Eugene had touched him there and he had forced those thoughts to the back of his mind,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, until now that is. Claudette's touch was so light and delicate he felt it stirring deep inside him,

"NO, NO, STOP IT, GO AWAY"

He did his best to think those thoughts away but it was no use, the beast had a mind of it's own and began to visibly swell, thicken and harden, it was impossible to hide and Eugene looked at Claudette to see if she had noticed anything. Then it began to twitch, the smallest of movements but it was there anyway, there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Then the embarrassment,his manhood twitched violently freeing itself from Claudette's grasp, a large gout of creamy white sperm erupted from the beast's one eye and spewed over Claudette's hand and wrist.

"I ,,I,,,,, I don't know what to say," He managed to stutter.

 

[pink_silk_glove]

Even through the fabric of his shirt he felt warm. The substantial weight buoyed in her delicate fingers also shocked her. Claudette thought that watching him stitch the wound would distract her from the bold indecency of the contact and ease her racing heart but at the needle's first piercing, the sight of fresh blood forced her eyes shut leaving her with only the sensations in her hand. It was is if it was alive, inching along like a patient snake in the grass, but then she realized that it was actually lengthening in her loose trembling grasp.

"If you feel faint Claudette please say so or look away. I will be as quick as I can. I might ask one more favour of you though, could you bandage the wound for me?"

Blood was okay. She'd seen it many times. She'd seen chickens beheaded, pigs butchered, cows birthing. The needle was a bit of a start but she knew that she'd be all right to wrap him.

"Yes," she nodded.

She could have sworn that when she had first taken it it had been soft and limp but now it had become much more full and solid. Claudette knew about such things. She knew what an erection was and what it meant, but she had never experienced seeing let alone touching one. She thought it was her imagination when the muscle first flexed, but then it did a second time and slipped easily from her reluctant grip to waver levered in mid air, full shaft in view of her now wide eyes, and suddenly there was a spattering on her hand, like warm cream. Stunned, she gawked at her hand oscillating with shock and the pearly spurt that crossed it.

"I ... I don't know what to say."

Neither did she.

 

[cumnchat]

Eugene truly did not know what to say or do, all he could say that made any sense was,

'I ... I don't know what to say.'

After that gem of conversation there was a somewhat stony silence as Eugene watched Claudette who was switching her gaze from her sticky hand to his fully erect phallus standing fully upright, hard and proud as a jack staff as if to say 'I did that'

He finally collected his thoughts and tried to make the best apology he could,

"I am truly sorry Claudette, it has been quite a while since I have had the pleasure of a beautiful woman touching me so intimately, if I had thought such a thing would happen I would have never asked you, I would have found some other way."

None of which was quite true, if he had suspected that he might ejaculate with the beautiful Claudette holding his cock he most certainly would have asked her, at the moment of ejaculation all the frustrations of the past three months had disappeared in a flash and he had felt like a man again. Of course he could not tell her that, she would most likely call him names and even betray him to the confederates out of spite. No, he needed her on his side so a few white lies wouldn't hurt.

Now was the problem of cleaning up the mess he had made on Claudette's hand, he didn't want to use any of the rags that she had brought with her as they were for bandages, to use her skirt or petticoat was out of the question as was the blood coloured water he had used to wash his wound with, there was only one alternative , one that he didn't mind as he had done it several times in the past with no ill effects.
He took Claudette's dainty little hand in his and kissed the back of her hand and then gently licked each delicate finger clean finally popping each one into his mouth and sucking any remaining residue. He looked up at her as he held her hand and spoke softly,

"There is no need to thank me Claudette, it needed to be done, it is an acquired taste I grant you but I will suffer no ill effects. If anything I should be thanking you for being so gracious as to not slap my face and for your sterling effort helping me to close the wound all that remains now is for you to bandage me, do not trouble yourself about Jack the Lad I will keep him out of harm's way."

Eugene lay flat on his back and pulled his shirt up leaving his hairy scrotum and shaft exposed then he placed his big hands over his private parts trapping his cock underneath."

"Ready when you are." He called out, trying to keep the smile off his face.

 

[pink_silk_glove]

He lifted her hand in his own. It was a man's hand, rough and callused from toil in the world. Claudette watched him raise it to his face until his warm moist breath flowed over her skin. It was semen. It was then that she realized that the warm goo on her hand was his seed. What he did next stunned her. He put each of her small thin fingers into his mouth in turn and sucked his own essence from them.

"There is no need to thank me Claudette, it needed to be done ..."

He left her dumbfounded, arrested in her complete bewilderment as to his behavior more foreign than even his northern home. It was surreal. He let go of her hand to cover his loins as he proffered his now sealed but seeping wound for her to dress. The air wisping at his saliva did not seem to remove its presence from her fingers even after evaporation. The whole scene was bizarre.

"Ready when you are."

Claudette snapped out of it, picked up one of the rags and laid it carefully over the stitching, hiding the purply bruising and the red-black line closed by the blood-stained thread. Then she took the next rag and began to carefully wrap, one hand over and one under his thigh, around and around, having no idea if it was too tight or too loose.

"Does it need to be sewn too or could I just tuck it in?" she asked softly upon completing the task.

 

[cumnchat]

Claudette wrapped his wound gently but it was still painful but her cool hands on his thigh felt good, really good. He couldn't help thinking to himself how it would feel if she was stroking his thigh to stimulate and arouse him, even so it WAS arousing and he could feel his cock twitching and hardening under his hand that covered it, Finally she was done and asked softly,

'Does it need to be sewn too or could I just tuck it in?'

What happened in the next few moments unleashed a whole series of events that would have totally unforseen consequences.

In order to see his wound and be able to reach it Claudette was kneeling beside him and leaning over him so he could smell her gentle perfume but he couldn't see his wound so when she asked him the question he tried to sit up a little to look for himself. At that very moment he felt a sneeze coming on so he used one hand to try and stifle it, not wanting to spray her with his sneeze, as he moved he began to topple over and without thinking he used his other hand to steady himself. Free of restraint his cock sprang up straight and erect but the wet tip brushed Claudette's soft, red lips that were pursed in concentration, leaving a small droplet of semen on her bottom lip. Eugene saw all this in a flash and knowing if he did nothing it was likely that Claudette would not come to him again even if she didn't give him away and he needed her to change the dressing every couple of days. He clutched at Claudette and held her shoulders and his weight pulled her down on top of him so they were face to face, just inches apart. He saw the small drop of semen on her lip and before she could lick her lips and taste it he did the only thing he could do, he kissed her. He meant it to be just a quick peck to be taken as a thankyou for a job well done but once his lips met hers he lingered longer than was necessary. On finally releasing her he half whispered, half croaked,

"Thankyou Claudette, that is much better, just tuck it in, 'twill be easier when you change the dressing in a couple of days. Will you please accept my heartfelt apologies for the behaviour of my,,,,,,, well you know what I am referring to, although it would appear that he likes you,,,, a lot."