Cold Mountain (Open)

[little_golden]

Aida was a pretty woman at 22 years of age. She was slender with small breasts, a great bum, clear white skin, slender and pretty as could be. She was the daughter of a preacher but with his passing and the ongoing civil war between the south and north her fortunes were desperate.

She was head over heels in love with a man she barely knew who had gone off to fight the Yankees. Most of the men from the mountain had gone off to fight. Except Tig and his bastards who formed the "home guard" and they were up to their tricks to capture the any deserters or those who helped a deserter.

Aida was starving and her farm was in ruins. She was tired of living off the generosity of the good town folk who were left. But her plight grew worse everyday. She knew Tig and his boys would come calling. A lot of women in town were already rumored to have spread their thighs for money for food or medicine. She had resisted.

She had heard stories of men luring deserters into their homes only to rat them out to the home guard and then collect a fee. Aida didn't want to that but a Mr. Peppers kept asking her to live with him and his wife's sisters. Tig kept insisting that her man was dead and that he was available. His eyes told her that he wanted her one way or the other.

OCC... Based on the movie.... but the thread starts mid-way in the movie. The idea is that Aida is vulnerable to the home guard, Yankees and deserters alike. Anyone is welcome in role they like. I'll play Aida.....

 

[little_golden]

Aida was distraught living alone since the passing of her father. The truth was that her father's investments were now worthless thanks to the civil war. She had this farm on Cold Mountain but didn't know a darn thing about running a farm. She was down to selling small items - like her dad's gold pocket watch and other personal mementos to get money for bread, cheese and milk.

The farm itself was starting to look run down as she exhausted her money and wasn't able to make any repairs. Tig that bastard kept coming around to check on her and to remind her that the old farm used to belong to his grand pappy and that she should give it up and move east or marry him.

Both of these thoughts were revolting. There were no relatives and nothing back east for her. The farm was all she had and she liked Cold Mountain. She was waiting for Emmet to come back from the war.

Aida walked to the town center and looked over the pictures of the town's menfolk who had gone off to fight. There were dozens of pictures of the menfolk who were dead. She hadn't heard from Emmet in many many months, but her saving grace was that he couldn't be dead.... or could he.

That bastard Tig had told her that she must in her heart know that Emmet was dead. But she didn't belief it. It just couldn't be true. The reports from the war were all bad. There were stories of the thousands of young men killed in battles all over. But the Yankees hadn't made it this far south.

Tig and his home guard, they were ruffians and bullies as they took control of the town and area. Ironically, the worst men of a bad lot were now the law in town. They spent their days chasing down folks, busting into homes and hanging deserters.

Aida started her walk back to her farm.

OCC... Hi Miltone... I'll just start building the backdrop while you are away.

 

[Miltone]

Seth Lambert

Pushing hard on the brace, Seth Lambert turned the handle and worked the screw deep into the pine fence post. With great effort all of the hinges were secured and Seth reset the gate that had been broken away during the overnight raid on his farm by Tig and his Home Guard hooligans looking for deserters, or so they had said. “Ain’t got a thing to hide from that bastard!” Seth spat out as he shut the gate and stood back to admire his work.

He removed his hat and wiped his sweaty brow. The midday sun was beating down hard and he had worked up a sweat fixing the gate. “Got too much to lose it all to that sonofabitch!” he swore under his breath angrily. He had two hundred of the finest acres of Cold Mountain and three young children to provide for and he wasn’t going to let that power grubbing bastard Tig end up with it all. Sure, it had been hard working the farm since his wife had died in childbirth two years prior and the ongoing War had only made things worse, but he was determined to make a go of this life.

He gathered up his tools and had passed back through the gate toward the barn when he saw a lone figure walking along the dusty road, dressed in a dingy white print dress and bonnet. From the pale skin and fair reddish hair he knew exactly who it was. Aida Monroe, daughter of the late Pastor Monroe. She was the exact opposite of every other woman in Cold Mountain, tall and willowy and cultured and always speaking with the best diction.

Every time he saw her at church, in town, or passing by like this on the road, Seth had the same response, his heart would palpitate, his palms would grow wet and clammy, and his tongue would become tied up in itself. She was so beautiful and elegant, unlike his late wife—God rest her soul—and reminded him of the graceful women he remembered from Charleston when he had attended University there fifteen years before. He fondly remembered seeing them stroll along the sidewalks, chattering about the weather and the Parisian fashions that the best shops had to offer, and he had been enchanted by the sight and scent of them. He had heard that Aida Monroe was from Charleston and he could easily picture her fitting in there quite well.

But his father couldn’t afford to buy out his conscription orders into the Army and Seth had had to leave University. His service during the Indian wars had left him with a wound and a gimpy limp. Surely this lovely creature wandering slowly down the road would curry no favor from the likes of him. In his day he had been considered an attractive man, tall and muscular with deep blue eyes and wavy blond hair, a ready laugh and smart enough to earn a scholarship to the University. But after his service in the Army, he had returned hoping to attend University again, but his father died and he was forced to take over the family farm. And now, he was an older man nearly forty years of age, his blond hair streaked with gray, who walked with a limp and was saddled with young children and a farm that drained every ounce of energy from him leaving little to bring a smile to his face or a sparkle to his eyes and no time to attract the attention of any woman, much less Miss Aida Monroe.

Seth paused in the midday sun and kept his hat off as Miss Monroe approached. She seemed to be meandering along the road as if lost in thought. Her dress looked dingy and ragged about the edges and her hat sat askew on her head. Yet, despite her tattered and unkempt appearance, Aida Monroe was still a beautiful woman and would always be. There was a luminous quality to her complexion, a mysterious glimmer in her eyes, a cultured and educated cant in her gait. Just the sight of her brought that familiar throb to his heart, his hands became damp and clammy, and his throat seemed to constrict.

“Afternoon, Miss Monroe,” Seth managed to spit out as she drew near. She took a few steps further before she looked up, a frightened look on her face at first that melted into a sweet smile upon recognizing him.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Lambert,” Aida replied in a delicate voice. “What brings you to the side of the road on a hot day like this?”

“Just fixing my gate,” Seth replied.

Miss Monroe paused. “Did your livestock get too feisty?” she asked.

“Tig,” Seth answered. “His men … last night … broke it down … said they were chasing some deserters.” Miss Monroe shook her head and looked down. When she lifted her head again she looked off into the distance, her eyes looking watery. He wanted to talk with her and racked his brain for something to say … anything would suffice. “How are things going at your place?”

She looked back to him with a desperate expression clouding her face and said nothing. Seth knew that she was alone on her place, too proud to ask for help in farming the plot of land that is probably the only thing left in her world.

“If there is anything I can do to help, Miss Monroe,” Seth offered, “All you need do is ask.”

She smiled weakly. “I can’t ask you for help, Mr. Lambert. Like I have told everyone else, I must learn to do these things myself.” Seth wanted to offer her more. Just one look into her blue eyes and he would have dropped whatever he was doing and done anything that she had asked … anything! “So how are your children?” she asked, obviously changing the subject.

“They are well,” Seth replied. “Up there … behind the barn … working the vegetable patch.”

“You’re so lucky to have them,” she said looking up in that direction. Then she smiled. “I hope to have children one day.”

They stood awkwardly for a moment until Seth’s mind turned to thoughts of the man she might want to have children with.

“Have you heard from Emmet?”

She shook her head and glanced downward. “But I haven’t seen his picture posted in the square so there is always hope.”

“Always hope,” Seth replied.

“Well, forgive me, I’ve kept you from your chores long enough, Mr. Lambert,” she said, mopping her glistening forehead with a dainty handkerchief.

“Miss Monroe … would you … excuse me for asking,” Seth stuttered. “But would you … care to come inside … perhaps join us for some tea … and something to eat?”

“Thank you, but no,” she replied, standing up straight and proudly. “I should be getting back.”

“I know, Ma’am,” Seth said calmly. “But I’ve been up the road by your place … your fields are looking poorly … I know you must be hungry …”

“Mr. Lambert, I do appreciate your kind offer,” Miss Monroe replied. “But I cannot survive on your kindness.”

“Just trying to be a good Christian man,” Seth said, crestfallen by her refusal.

“I know, and the Lord will reward you when your time comes,” she replied. “Now I really must be going.”

“Ma’am,” Seth said, bowing as he slipped his hat back onto his head.

“Good day, Mr. Lambert,” she said. With a polite little curtsey, Miss Monroe excused herself and continued to walk up the dusty road.

“Good day,” Seth muttered. His eyes followed her slender form up the road and he felt pangs of desire for her surge inside his body that he had never experienced with any other woman he had ever known. He felt ashamed of his feelings. Seth knew Emmet well and had worked along side him when helping to build the chapel for her father. In fact Emmet had later helped build Seth’s chicken coop and had done some patching on his roof before the war had taken the young man away. Everyone in the town knew of Emmet and Miss Monroe; small towns are like that.

But as he watched her trim figure saunter over a rise in the road, Seth couldn’t deny the feelings that throbbed inside him. He wanted her just like every other man in the valley … well, perhaps not just like every man. He could close his eyes and picture her before him, her satin and lace finery slipping to the floor, her pure pale skin laid bare for his eyes, for his touch, for his kiss. His heart pounded in his chest. Seth took a deep breath and turned to head back up toward his barn. But the sound of horse hooves and the rising dust drew his glance back toward the road. Things you see when you ain’t got a gun, Seth thought; it was Tig.

“Sorry ‘bout that gate Lambert,” Tig called out as he rode up on his dark stallion. “But me and Pogue we hot on the trial of a deserter and couldn’t wait for you to open it up.”

“Good as new,” Seth said defiantly. “Despite you and your rabble.”

“I take my duty to heart,” Tig countered, heedless of the cloud of dust that his horse was kicking up into Lambert’s face. Instead Tig was looking off in the direction Aida Monroe had followed. “Say, is that Miss Aida Monroe heading up the road?” Seth could see the look of lust flicker in Tig’s eyes as he squinted off into the distance and felt ashamed anew of his own desires. “Someday I might just have to have me a taste of that woman.”

The thought of the coarse uneducated Tig with Miss Monroe revolted Seth and made his blood turn to steam.

“She belongs to Emmet,” Seth said. “The whole town knows it.”

“And the whole town knows that poor fool is moldering in the ground,” Tig laughed loudly.

“Except Miss Monroe,” Seth volunteered.

Tig laughed raucously and spurred his horse quickly out onto the road leaving Seth standing and coughing in a cloud of dust. He had heard the rumors about Tig, how he was always throwing his weight around, parting the legs of more than a few desperate women in the valley with bribes of money or food or medicine. The thought that Tig would force himself on Miss Aida Monroe reviled Seth. As a gentleman, he could not let that happen and decided to follow the rising cloud of dust along the road, unsure of what he would find along the way …

 

[little_golden]

Aida walked further down the road towards her over run farm.

"I wish the war was over.... I wish Emmett were back... He's alive... I saw him in the well.... But the birds....." Aida spoke to herself in a soft confused voice. She was starving but too proud to take help. It just wasn't right to to take from people who had so little themselves.

Her thoughts were interrupted at the sound of horse hoofs clamoring down the road behind. She turned quickly and there before Aida was Tig - leader of the Home Guard. A bully to man and woman, to the old and the young.

"Howdy Miss Monroe" Tig fat face blurted out.

Aida knew it was in the good book to be polite to all of God's creature and she spoke politely back to the big man who stank of whiskey, women and cigars.

"Well hello Tig. It sure is another hot day" Miss Monroe replied in a polite but innocent voice. She didn't want to encourage Tig in his obvious advances but neither did she want to needless offend him. He had the power to go where he wanted, to arrest, to detain, to do whatever he wanted to the folks of Cold Mountain.

"You change your mind about me coming round for a visit?" Tig asked directly but Aida knew that he wasn't talking about ice tea or cookies. She sensed in his eyes the lust he felt for her. She imagined that Tig would be rough with her and would use her body like the common whores at the body-house. She had heard the stories in town of how he forced himself on some of the widows and younger women.

"I think I'm doing quite fine on my own" replied Aida carefully.

"and I have a new girl who has come to help me work the farm" Aida added carefully.

"Darn! That girl is too small and scrawny to be much help.... You need a man to keep up a farm that size... That place belonged to my grand pappy you know.... I'll teach that girl to ....." Tig blurted out but caught himself. In the back of his mind he was already making plans to get the little bitch and to win over Aida too.

She'll be hungry enough... I'll get em both... Maybe both at once Tig grinned evilly.

"You be careful... I hear there are more deserters in the woods these days.... Shame about the battle near Virginia... A lot of our local boys perished in the cause of the south.... I bet you still haven't heard from Emmett... I bet the poor boy is rotting in his grave....." Tig tormented Aida.

 

[Miltone]

Seth Lambert

The farther up the dusty road he walked toward Aida Monroe’s farm, the more incensed he grew just thinking of Tig taking advantage of the sweet and innocent young woman. Sure, he felt lust and desire for the slim pale beauty, but he was an honorable and civilized Southern gentleman and could never force himself upon her, as Tig would do without a single thought. As Seth cleared a crest in the road, halfway to the Monroe farm, less than a hundred yards ahead he spotted Tig sitting tall reining in his horse close beside Miss Monroe, the dust rising in the hot afternoon sun.

Seth held his rifle close to his body and stepped into the shadow of a towering oak tree. He had no business interfering unless Tig got out of hand. He could hear their voices but couldn’t cipher their words exactly. Aida was smiling prettily and trying to keep her distance, but Tig kept moving his horse closer to her, its hooves kicking up the sandy red dust. It looked as if Tig were trying to pen her up against the fence.

When the horse tromped too close, Aida backed up against the fence her hands reaching out to grasp the top rail for support. Seth heard Tig’s insidious laugh and it turned his blood cold. It was an evil horrible laugh, full of dark lust and vile intentions. Straining his eyes, Seth could see the frightened look on Aida’s pretty face. When Tig slipped down from his horse and advanced toward Aida, Seth clutched his rifle tight and took a few steps forward.

Tig was looming over Aida, and he raised a meaty hand to her terrified face, grabbing her delicate chin roughly, holding her in place. Seth continued to move forward now out from the shadow of the oak. Each step brought him closer, enough that he could begin to make out their words.

“Please don’t,” Aida begged. “I have nothing for you Tig … no money … nothing …”

“From what I can see, you have plenty for a man like me,” Tig said cruelly. He leaned toward her, his body obscuring what he was doing but Seth knew what was going on and moved quickly.

“Uhhnn, don’t … Tig … no!” Aida protested, trying to break away from him, her delicate hands balled up into fists, pounding against Tig’s burly chest.

“You know it’s no use to fight me,” Tig leered, looping his other arm around her waist and pulling her tightly against his body. “I’m the Home Guard little missy and can do whatever I want in these parts.”

“No … Tig … stop!” she cried out, struggling in vain to push herself away from her attacker.

“Oh, such a feisty little wench you are, Aida Monroe,” Tig laughed coarsely. “I like a woman with spirit!”

Using his size and strength Tig picked up the slender Aida Monroe and hoisted her over his shoulders. Seth could see her fists pounding on his back and her legs kicking madly in the rustle of her petticoats. Tig was laughing wildly and carrying her toward an opening in the fence, one that Seth knew led into the woods and down by the creek. Seth could see Tig’s rough hand moving up beneath the petticoats, fondling the sweet pale flesh that lie beneath Aida’s pantaloons. He immediately knew what was on Tig’s mind and rushed forward.

“Hold up, Tig!” Seth called out loudly, his voice reverberating off the thick stand of oak trees. He held up his rifle and trained it on Tig’s head. “Put the lady down!”

“Seth!” Aida cried out with relief when she saw him draw near. She pounded and kicked at Tig with a renewed strength

Tig spun around, startled by the unexpected intrusion into his little game. He laughed broadly and raucously.

“And just who do you think you are?” Tig spat out, his fat hand still having its way under Aida’s skirts.

“You heard the lady,” Seth shouted. “Put her down and back away.”

“Put her down? Or what?” Tig laughed. “I’m the law in these parts and you would be making a big, big mistake to even think of doing something foolish.”

“Put her down and it won’t come to that!” Seth called out unwavering, inching closer to Tig and Aida. His steady hands held his rifle straight and true, aimed right for Tig’s head. Seth had a reputation in Cold Mountain as a marksman from his training in the Army during the Indian wars and Tig was well aware of the stories that Lambert never needed to carry much lead when hunting for he could make every shot count.

The two men stared each other down. Seth was just a few yards away, his eyes and his aim unwavering. With a final ruffling of his fat hand underneath Aida’s petticoats, Tig swung her down from his shoulder and she ran to Seth.

“You have made one big fat mistake, Lambert,” Tig said crossly as he moved back toward his horse and mounted up. “This ain’t over … this ain’t over by any measure.” He bridled his horse close to Aida and Seth. “Especially with you, little missy.”

With that Tig rode off, his mount kicking up a thick cloud of dust in their faces. Seth waited until he was well away before lowering his rifle.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” he asked as Aida shook the dust from her dress and adjusted her hat.

“Yes, I think so,” Aida replied as she rearranged her clothes. “I’m so thankful that you came along … I don’t know how to repay you …”

“ ’Twasn’t a thing, Miss Monroe,” Seth replied. “Just doing what’s right is all.”

When Aida put her hand on his shoulder, Seth sensed a strange feeling shooting through his body. He looked into her startling blue eyes, now opened wide. Her pale face was flushed from the excitement. He could feel her sweet scented breath on his face. There was that familiar tingling sensation deep inside his body, a quivering prickling feeling that sent his blood stirring whenever he was around her, only now it was ten-fold. His heart was filling with a desirous yearning and his body was throbbing with need and longing. He felt that he should say something to her, but his tongue was tied in a knot. Aida leaned closer to him. Could she see his thoughts? Could she sense what was roiling through his body?

 

[little_golden]

OCC Hi Miltone... I think your writing is awesome!

There is a certain someone who is pissed at me who is playing with the voting on the thread (and other threads I'm in). So far I've been ignoring his childishness but he forgets the site tracks his IP even though he had a collection of names he writes under. I wish he'd just grow up, dry up and blow away.


IC

Aida had just finishing thanking Seth when her mind slipped away in worry.

Sometimes Tig scarred Aida, but she was the type of woman to try to hide that. Behind her soft voice and refined manners she still just a girl at heart. With the passing of her father and Emmett away at the war she was feeling helpless, hopeless, lost and vulnerable.

Recollecting her wits, she wasn't sure what Tig was really after. Sometimes, she thought it was just the farm and property she had inherited from her father. At other times, his dark evil eyes betrayed his dark sinister soul and his lusty desire. She mentally see him, like a horned demon stripping her to nothing and then using her like a common whore. The images in her mind - it was revolting. Goose bumps erupted across her arms as she imagined Tig forcing himself upon her.

This time his intentions had been more obvious and he was getting tired of waiting. His cruel words still haunted her though the incident was over "From what I can see, you have plenty for a man like me.” She had fought him off but she knew it had been Seth's interference that had saved her honor and virginity. Had Seth not been around, well.... she'd be ... she'd be ... she'd be no longer the lady she wanted to be. His body stank of sweat, liquor and cigars.

Aida was still dazed and confused as she took a step backward ignoring Seth for the moment. Tig's words re-played in her mind:

“I’m the Home Guard little missy and can do whatever I want in these parts.”

He was right. She was just a woman. She had no man to protect her. It was rough enough on Cold Mountain - but during a war... The South was losing it.... Yankees were rumored to be coming.... Was Emmett dead? Why hadn't she heard from him? Maybe she should give up.... But there was no money..... Her father's investments were worthless.... There was just the farm..... Maybe that was enough to help land her a money of some influence... But the man she wanted was at war.... and was maybe even dead....

The thought of Tigs big hands touching her and her efforts to escape from him, made Aida sick. The bull of a man had been so strong and he had hoisted her in the air so easily. Had she not fought so hard, that animal would have pulled off her undergarments one by one right on the dirt road.

In the back of her mind, she knew what he would have done. He had enjoyed rubbing his hands against her body against her wishes. Worst of it, was that as the law, there would have been sweet nothing she could have done to stop him. If she complained, no one would have listened, and it would have been her word against the law.

Aida looked up and down - as she straightened her clothing. She was so thankful to Seth for his arrival and help. He had been like a gallant white knight of old, as he rode down the hill on his charger and saved her from Tig's torment.

For a moment, she thought Seth would kill him or that Tig would kill Seth. Had Seth killed Tig, the home guard would have hunted him down by nightfall. But now they'd both have new worries because Tig was a man who would get his revenge - long, hard, painful and often.

Tig's words had been menacing, after he had let Aida back to the ground. Aida could him them re-play in her brain even as she looked up to see Tig riding away: “This ain’t over … this ain’t over by any measure ... Especially with you, little missy.” The look in his eyes told Aida that he was planning on them getting real close and intimate, whether or not, Aida was interested.

"Thank you again... Mr. Lambert..... Thank you so much... I am indebted to you for your bravery... But I'm afraid I have put you, your family and your property in mortal danger..... That Tig is going come back with his boys.... You know they've strung up a few local men already and host of those who left the front lines for home..." Aida half whispered as the reality of the situation hit her.

Aida had a panicky edge in her voice:

"He's going to be back ... To my place too.... Maybe I can ... Maybe I can cool him down.... He knows that I'm in love with Emmett.... I fear the time if Emmett is dead and word comes back to us... On that day.... I know Tig will come calling looking for a wife..... "

Aida spoke softly as she realized that she was crazy thinking Emmett was coming back. It had just been way too long. The war was just too dangerous and so many of the local men had been killed or gravely wounded.

Aida embraced Mr. Lambert in a proper fashion. It had been a warm and appreciative hug but nothing that should have provoked gossip. Unknown to her one of Seth's crowd had seen the hug and added his own twist to it before reporting it back to Tig later that evening. By morning evening the good folk in town would hear the rumors and probably assume the worst.

Tig had been furious when he heard the news that night when his homeguard toured the outskirts of Cold Mountain.

"Tonight, we are going to pay us a little visit to the Lambert farm. We'll burn down his barn... Kill off a good portion of his livestock and send a little message to the folks that ain't cooperating with us.... If Lampert interferes we'll just have to hang him or one of his boys........" Tig told his troops.

 

[Miltone]

Seth Lambert

Accepting the kindly embrace of Miss Monroe, Seth stepped back and tipped his hat. She felt so delicate in his arms, like a dainty priceless piece of porcelain. But she felt warm and soft, everything that a woman should be.

“Will you do me the honor of seeing you home safely?” he offered, extending his arm.

“You needn’t bother, Mr. Lambert. “I know the way.”

“If you like, but I wouldn’t want Tig to have second thoughts and turn around,” Seth commented. “Besides it’s not far.”

Miss Aida Monroe slipped her hand inside the crook of his arm and let him escort her the last mile to her farm. He could see that her crops were fairing poorly and the house and grounds looked quite run down and the barn dilapidated.

“I hear that you have someone helping you,” Seth inquired.

“Yes, she just came to me offering to work the farm since I was so in need,”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Seth replied. “I know that the good people of Cold Mountain are all concerned about you being all alone and all. Your father was a good man. It wouldn’t serve his memory to have his property revert back to Tig’s family. I hope that things go well for you and your new help.”

Aida showed him a warm smile and he felt his cheeks grow flushed. They had reached the gate to her farm. Seth looked up and saw a young woman in the field just outside the house, who stood and looked toward them.

“Thank you, for your help this afternoon, Mr. Lambert,” Miss Aida Monroe said. “I shall always be indebted to you, sir.”

“After what has happened, you must keep an eye out for Tig and his gang. No telling what they will do.”

“They can’t take much from nothing, can they?” Aida asked.

“Tig could find something of value to squeeze out of a rock, Seth said. “Now I take my leave. Good day, Miss.” Seth tipped his hat with a courtly bow and then turned to head back down the road to his own place. With each step he began to think over his warning to Miss Monroe. It would be a warning that he would need to be aware of in his own right. If not tonight then the next Tig and his gang would come around looking for some revenge and they would not be satisfied by breaking only the gate.

His actions had endangered everything that he knew and loved on Cold Mountain, his farm, his house, and most of all his children. By the time he had returned a plan was already forming in his mind. He and Sherm his Negro helper could defend the house well enough. The livestock could be lead to the back forty and through the gate to the barn on the old Macasland place that had sat mostly abandoned since the gold collapse of ’37. His children would be safe with his sister’s family on the other side of the mountain. He had no fear of what Tig could do to him personally in this life. But it was for Aida Monroe that he was most concerned and he fretted that he had only made things worse for her. Tig might bring his whole pack with him when he visited her again, and just the thought of that gaggle of vile ruffians manhandling and violating her made him cringe.

His children, Fannie, Bertram, and Elizabeth, were waiting for him by the barn when he returned. Seth welcomed them with both arms as they ran to him, nuzzling their sweet little toe heads against his dusty coat.

“Where you been, Pa?” asked Fannie, the oldest, the unofficial mother of the family ever since her mother had passed. All of ten years old, she had grown much older than her years and had taken on the role of her father’s protector, always looking out for him.

“I had to pay a visit to Miss Monroe, dear,” he replied. “She needed some help this afternoon.”

“I think she’s pretty,” said Elizabeth, the youngest at six, able to tend a rake and a shovel, yet still the frilliest of the two girls.

“That she is,” Seth replied. “And most likely in danger from Tig and Pogue and the rest of the home guard.”

Bertram stood back from the family embrace, a scowl on his face. Eight years old and soon to be eighteen it seemed to Seth. “What you have to say for yourself?” Seth asked him.

“Nothing, ‘cept Fannie was teasing me about book learning,” the boy said, kicking at the red dust.

“Now what have I told you about that?” he said chastising Fannie. “Fellas have every right to be able to read as ladies. Why if I had been able to stay in University, we might have been able to live in Richmond at this very moment.”

“I know, I know, I know,” Fannie complained. “You’ve told us a hundred times!”

“And I I’ll tell you all a hundred times more,” Seth said, gathering the children up and leading them up to the house. “Now we’ve got to clean you all up and pack an overnight bag. You’re going to spend a night or two at your Aunt Martha’s”

The children were happy for they loved the adventure of staying at a different place, one where they might not be called on for chores and field work. Seth drove them over and returned soon enough before sunset to help Sherm with the livestock.

“Youse assured that dey’s a coming?” Sherm asked, his concern evident in the quaver of his voice.

“If not tonight then tomorrow or the next,” Seth replied.

“What you do to set him off like dat?”

“Just being an honest and honorable man,” Seth replied as he closed the ramshackle gate to the Macasland place. “Something that the likes of Tig don’t understand.”

It was well after sundown when Seth and Sherm shared their pot of beans and potatoes and cut the dried beef in half for chawing.

“You know what to do,” Seth asked before they split up for the night.

“Owl call if they be coming by the gate, hawk cry if they be coming through the back,” Sherm replied.

“Good man,” Seth said and patted Sherm firmly on the back. Sherm was no friend of Tig or the home guard having lost the better part of his family to Tig’s rifle when they had tried to escape to the north. Seth watched as the old Negro moved off soundlessly toward the barn carrying the Winchester that had belonged to Seth’s father. From the bailing window the darkie could see for a couple of miles and the nearly full moon would give him a good line of sight. Seth settled into the chair on his front porch and waited.

It was after ten. By eleven Tig and his boys would have swilled enough liquor to screw their courage tight enough for revenge. By the time they had saddled up and moved out from town it would be after midnight. Never mind that the fields needed to be tended early the next morning. There wouldn’t be an fields worth tending if Tig had his way tonight, nor would there be any house or barn or a single out building.

Seth tried hard to fight off sleep and struggled long to stay awake. He tried reciting Bible verses to himself, but not being a particularly good Christian man, he only knew a few and soon ran out. Then he heard the call, a plaintive owl cry from up near the barn. Sherm had done his work well. Seth moved off the porch and down through the shadows of the myrtle trees that lined the road leading up from the gate. From the sound of the hooves there could have been three or four horsemen at the most.

Seth could see a pair of torches flickering through the trees as the rabble drove to the gate. One dismounted and brought a sledge to bear on the gate, smashing Seth’s handiwork of the last day and swinging it open. The other quickly drove through and headed up toward where Seth lie in wait. When they passed and headed up toward the house, Seth stepped out into the road behind them and called out loudly.

“Hold it right there Tig!” His voice was loud and clear.

“Lambert?!” Tig called out, clearly surprised by the voice shouting at him from the shadows. He held his torch up high looking for the owner. “This is official home guard business! We heard that you’re harboring fugitive slaves and deserters!”

“Ain’t no fugitives on this property,” Seth shouted, moving quickly again before Tig could pick his form out of the shadows. “Scalawags maybe, but you’re riding with ‘em tonight.”

“We know they’re here, Lambert,” Tig shouted madly. “And there’s only one way to root them out.” With that, Tig turned his horse and rode toward the main house with his torch held high above his head. Seth took careful aim and squeezed the trigger. His shot cracked through the handle of the torch sending the flaming head careening crazily toward the ground.

“What the?” Tig shouted as he threw the shattered handle to the ground. He looked about himself then shouted, “Pogue!” His long blond haired compatriot quickly made for the barn, his torch waving wildly.

Even as he had moved through the night, Pogue was out of range of a clear shot. Wit the dry weather a lone spark from the torch would have the barn erupting in an inferno of a blaze. Then a shot cracked and the torch in Pogue’s hand was sent flying harmlessly to the ground.

“Now get off my property!” Lambert called out.

“I’ve got every right to search this property for fugitives and deserters,” Tig answered defiantly.

“And I’ve got every right to defend my property from vandals,” Seth responded. “I’ve got no quarrel with the Home Guard. You’ve got a job to do. But I have a job too. The county agent will be by two days from now to buy up my corn crop for the Confederate Army. I’d hate to be the one to tell him that the local Home Guard was responsible for burning it up.”

“You’d have no proof, Lambert,” Tig shouted.

Seth raised his rifle and squeezed off another round high into the sky. “Now get off my property, Tig, or you’re next.”

“You wouldn’t dare, Lambert!” Tig crowed. He lead his horse in a circle, vainly attempting to locate Seth’s position, but the voice seemed to be coming from everywhere and the gunshots out of nowhere. “Come on, boys!” Tig called out and led his rabble back down the road.

He waited for a long while before moving out of the shadows and up toward the house. He was joined shortly by Sherm who chuckled loudly.

“Ise about ta pee my britches, Mista Lambert,” the tall rangy Negro said. “You sure have some kinda nerve there.”

“Just doing what is right, Sherm.”

Seth and Sherm spend the night dozing off and on while seated on the porch. It was a warm night on Cold Mountain, and Seth couldn’t help but wonder about Miss Monroe. How did she fare this night? Would she and her helper be able to defend her place the next time Tig came calling? With the image of her smile on his mind, Seth Lambert settled into a short sleep full of strange and wonderful dreams ... some of which included the lovely Aida Monroe.

 

[little_golden]

Tig Pays A Visit

It had been three days since Ada had been confronted by Tig and rescued by the most gallant Mr. Lambert. Ada had been worried sick about Tig and his homeguard might do next to the poor man or his young family. It just wasn't right for the law to be so mis-used and twisted by one man and his cronies. The problem was that the strong men were mostly gone off to fight and Tig had the force of law on his side.

Ruby was a young woman in her early twenties. She grew up poor on a farm in the backwoods. Though she wasn't a mannered young lady like Ada she knew about farming and men. The first few nights Ada and Ruby had talked into the night, about Ruby's drunken father, Aida's preacher father, and their two worlds.

Ruth had been working very hard on the farm. She had been a God send to Ada. At first it seemed like the two were worlds apart, but Ruby had a straightforward no nonsense approach to getting things done. For the past few days, the farm has started some serious planning and clean-up. Ada had become Ruby's helper and no task was to beneath her as she became the student to Ruby.

Maybe we won't starve... maybe we can work this farm. If we can get food from the land... we will survive Ada had started to become optimistic.

"Ruby ... You sure we can do this.... With no men folk to help us?" Ada had asked Ruby as they harnessed up a work horse to plow a field for planting.

"Of course... We don't need men... We just got to plan... We need a winter garder... We need to fix the barn.... Get the cows milked and taken care off... We looked after them and they'll look after us" Ruby had confidently explained.

The day had been hot and long but at the end of the third day, the place had lost its decrepit and abandoned look. The well was fixed, the fence posts replaced, the animals penned and a field was ready for planting.

Ada helped Ruby cook a chicken over the open fireplace.

"Ruby you sure know a lot of everything - cooking, cleaning and running a farm - things I never learned in that fancy finishing school" Ada had told her politely.

The two women talked late into the night, as they drank tea and enjoyed the companionship of each other. It was late on the third night when Ada heard moaning sounds coming from downstairs in the house.

"Tig!" she whispered quietly as she slipped from her bed and quietly walked down the hall to Ruby's room to warn her of their unwanted guests.

"Get the gun!" Ada whispered into Ruby's room but there no response. As Asa moved in closer, she was quick to realize that the bed was empty and the sheets tossed on the floor. Looking around the room, she saw the old rifle that Ruby was quick to use in a crisis and grabbed it and slowly moved towards the stairs to check on the soft moans and grunts coming from downstairs.

Ever so slowly, Ada nervously took careful step after step as she worked her way down all sixteen polished wooden steps. Th soft moans were becoming louder and their frequency was intensifying in pace and intensity. Reaching the bottom of the staircase, Ada knew someone was in her house and up to no good. There was a tingling going through her body and she was ready to blast whoever had intruded upon their home.

Carefully peeking around an open door, Ada gasped in stunned silence at the scene before her.

"That's it - you dirty whore - you take it - take it all" Tig was hissing at Ruby. He had her stripped to nothing with her sleeping garments at his feet. She was bent over a chair, his body was positioned tight to her and his hands were groping her breasts and he fornicated with Ruby.

Ruby looked like a mess with her tangled short brown hair. Her body was wet with perspiration and looked feminine as she lay bent in half under the soft moonlight that permitted Ada to watch. She moaned softly with every deep thrust. She wasn't resisting him at all and seemed to passively let Tig take the fruit of her womanhood.

"That's it you dirty whore..... Come on.... Come on... harder.... " Tig was pushing her more self pleasure as he picked up the pace of his thrusting into Ruby.

Ada knew that Tig was going to take it to the limit and realized she had to intervene.

"Stop it now Tig!" Ada called out bursting into the room.

Tig laughed as he continued to hump Ruby.

"What are you going to Missy? You fire that and Ruby as sure as dead too!" Tig tormented Ada.

"But if it makes you feel better... While I'm fucking this here whore... I'm thinking it's you!" Tig growled and then he grunted like a donkey, and Ruby moaned loudly in a soft cry, and Ada knew that Tig had planted his seed deep in Ruby.

"You just remember our little deal!" Tig spoke harshly to Ruby.

"I hear you're old man run off from the line.... He's a traitor.... He's around these parts and I hear you're helping him. I'll look the other way for a few more days - unless you continue to keep me satisfied" Tig threatened.

"I'm so sorry" Ruby whispered aloud to Ada.

"I didn't want him hurting you.... You've been so kind and are so good... I couldn't tell you" Ruby pleaded to Aida as Tig pulled out and pulled up his trousers.

"She's a real good heifer.... I'm the bull... and I like lots of heifers" Tig boasted as he looked Ada up and down as if she was next on the list.

"Never Tig - you are an animal. How dare you take advantage of this girl! What type of man are you?" Ada challenged his sense of honor and fundamental Christian values.

"Just a man... you two are just women... you do what I say... give me my grandpappy's farm.... and things will work out" Tig offered with an evil grin.

"No Sir... You leave us alone and get out of here right now!" Ada threatened as she pointed the old rifle at Tig.

Tig had moved towards the door. He wasn't sure if Ada would do it or not, but he knew this battle was over, but the private little war would continue until he won out.

Tig retreated to the front yard and then mounted his horse.

"You best be careful Ada.... I hear Mr. Lambert had some visitors himself the other night.... A real shame about his boy" Tig tormented her.

"What happened?" Ada worried but Tig had simply trotted off leaving her in the doorway, a rifle pointed out and Ruby behind her staring off.................



(OCC I leave Sat morning for a 2 week vacation. I look forward to continuing the thread upon my return. I hope to download some writing when I get back. Your writing is awesome! My slowness to post sometimes is more a reflection that I want to keep up the quality rather than seek quantity.... Smiles Cindy)

 

[Miltone]

Seth seeks revenge ...

For over a week Seth and Sherm spent their days working the farm and spent their nights standing watch to protect it. One night they heard one of Tig’s men trying to steal into the yard to put some weevils into the corncrib. Another night they heard some sounds coming from over the rise behind the farm. Seth had Sherm hold watch by the house but he never found anyone or anything. Both men had the jitters for the next days, but nothing seemed to come of it.

A day or two later, the Government Agent came and paid Seth a fair enough price for his crop in Confederate dollars. Not that there was a lot to buy in Cold Mountain, but enough to keep the farm going. Seth decided to buy some goods with the money, figuring that the war was going poorly and that those brightly colored onion skins would be worth less than dirt once the Union came through.

There were wild rumors of the war spreading through Cold Mountain since there was little real news that came from official sources. Other than the tardy listings of the war dead, the people had to make do with determining which crazy story was true and which was fabrication. Manley Thomas heard that the Union had a huge war machine that carried a great cannon and churned up the ground swallowing their brave Confederate brothers whole. Hiram Brockman told of the Union troops sweeping through Mississippi and Alabama, burning and looting and pillaging and raping as they went.

“Why, I heard tell that in Fayette,” Brockman proclaimed one day in the barbershop. “The Union soldiers tied all the young women, married and not, to the fence posts leading from town, stripped them naked from the waist down so every man could have his way with any one of our precious womenfolk he wanted. Animals they are I tell you!”

Seth dismissed such outrageous rumors seeing a more viable threat in the insidious actions of Tig and the Home Guard. As he walked back through town, he noticed the tall slender figure of Aida Monroe perusing the freshly published lists of the war dead.

“Any news of Emmet, Miss Monroe?” he asked as he approached. She looked at him, startled for a moment, before smiling faintly.

“No … no news,” she replied, her face turning down sadly.

“That’s good then, isn’t it?” Seth said.

Miss Monroe didn’t reply, but only cast her eyes away toward the road that led back to their respective farms.

“Has our illustrious Home Guard paid you a visit lately?” he asked softly, out of earshot of any passersby.

“Tig … Tig was by the other night,” she said, appearing to shiver even though it was a warm afternoon. “He … called … on Ruby, I guess you could say.”

“The bastard!” Seth swore under his breath, imagining the most despicable possible visitation.

“She had to … there is little choice for someone in her position,” Aida Monroe said sadly. “Or mine …”

“Has he bothered you any?” Seth asked. Aida looked at him, her beautiful clear blues eyes clouded with fear. She shook her head.

“I heard that something happened with your boy,” she asked. “Is that true?”

“Bertram?” Seth said. “Not that I know of. He’s been staying at my … er, at a safe place. But a couple of Tig’s men did rough up my man Sherm a few nights back. Found him just outside my fence at night and accused him of being a runaway. Tied him up and thrashed him. Might have strung him up had I not come upon them and scared them off.”

“Is he all right?” Aida asked. Her face was blanched white.

“He’s a strong old buck, he has recovered well,” Seth laughed weakly but turned somber. “But just gives me more concern for what might happen next. Someone has got to stop his madness afore it gets farther out of hand.”

“Don’t do anything rash, Mr. Lambert,” Aida said, resting her hand on his shoulder. “You have your children to look out for.”

“That I do, Miss Monroe,” he replied. He saw his horse champing at the bit of its harness as it awaited his return. “I’m heading back to my place, may I give you a ride?”

“I don’t wish to take you out of your way, Mr. Lambert,” Miss Monroe said almost shyly.

“Tisn’t out of the way,” Seth replied.

Aida looked at him long and hard and glanced over at his old but reliable wagon before replying. “Why yes, Mr. Lambert,” she said. “That would save me a long walk in the hot sun.”

Seth set his packages into the back of the wagon and helped Aida up into the seat. He unhitched the horse and climbed up beside her, lifting his gimpy left leg up. Through the short ride to her farm, Aida sat quite primly beside Seth, her delicate hands folded in her lap. She arranged her hat and tightened the sash that held it in place. Seth could see some rough reddened skin near the edges, perhaps the result of hard work on her farm.

“I’ve heard that Ruby has helped you greatly,” Seth commented.

“Why, yes, she has been a great help,” Aida replied with a proud smile. “She has taught me that I can do so many things that I never thought possible for me.”

When the wagon struck a particularly rough bump, Miss Monroe bounced on the hard wooden seat. Holding the reins with one hand, Seth reached over and grabbed her arm, helping her steady herself. She felt so warm and soft and feminine beneath the stiff calico of her dress. They exchanged an awkward smile and Seth let his hand slip away from her. Soon they found themselves at her place, and Seth wheeled his wagon up the drive to Aida’s farmhouse. He climbed off and helped boost Aida down, holding her light body for just a moment.

“You take care, Miss Monroe,” he said as she righted herself and brushed off the red dust of the road. “Iffen you need anything, you only need to ask. I have bought extra provisions, if you want I am most willing to share.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lambert,” she replied. “But we are doing better here. I bid you good afternoon, sir.”

Seth nodded. “Afternoon, Miss,” he replied, watching as she turned and walked up toward the house. There was an appealing sway to her gait that accented the curves of her body, even as concealed as her proper dress and petticoats would allow it. He could see Ruby in the side yard and heard her call out to Aida. He waved and saw Ruby return his wave before climbing up and driving his wagon off.

When he returned to his place and drove up to the barn, Sherm came hobbling out to greet him. He took care of the horse and then helped Seth gather up the supplies from town and carry them into the main house. As they put things away, Seth told Sherm of the news from town. He mentioned giving Miss Monroe a ride home.

“Youse be alikin’ dat Miss Monroe,” Sherm said with a laugh. “I can tell.”

“Every man on Cold Mountain likes Miss Monroe,” Seth answered. Sherm laughed loudly.

“Yess, but you likes her in dat special way,” Sherm went on. “I can see in your eyes … a man’s eyes always gives him away.”

“I have only the highest regard for Miss Aida Monroe,” Seth protested. “She belongs to Emmit, not me … and she’s several years my junior … and she’s from Charleston, not Cold Mountain …”

“Youse can talk all you want, but there hain’t nuthin’ wrong with feeling dat way,” Sherm said, his chuckles still not subsiding. “Dat’s all I’se saying … hain’t nuthin’ wrong a’ tall.”

Seth paused to think about it. Perhaps there was something special to his attraction to her. He always found himself deferring to her, always trying to remember his best manners when in her presence, and always thinking about her, especially of late. Ever since his days at the University in Charleston when he first became acquainted with graceful and refined women, he had longed for the company of such a female. Miss Monroe was the embodiment of all that he had ever wanted in a woman, elegance, intellect, beauty, manners, even a sense of humor … and to meet her here in Cold Mountain seemed as unlikely as the South now rising to beat back the onslaught of the Northern Army. Yet she was here and he could not chase her from his mind.

He and Sherm fixed themselves a small bite to eat before heading back out to attend to their afternoon chores. They had crossed over to the back forty when a small figure came running through the field. Seth quickly recognized the blonde hair and voice of Fannie, his oldest.

“Father! Father!” she cried out as she ran toward Seth. “Father!”

“What is it?” he asked as he collected her in his arms.

“You’ve got to come quick,” she said out of breath. Her face was flushed and hot from her run. “There’s been an accident.”

“What?”

“An accident … Bertram was herding the cows … and he must have fallen … and hit his head … Aunt Winnie said to fetch you quick.”

Seth laid down his scythe and began to run toward his sister’s place.

“Youse want me to come along?” Sherm shouted.

“Stay here and finish!” Seth called back. He ran as far as his gimpy left leg would allow, then slowed and walked the rest of the way, Fannie keeping up with him. “When did this happen?”

*****

 

[Miltone]

continued ...

“We aren’t sure,” Fannie replied. “Bertram was out to herd the cows and didn’t come back for the longest while. Aunt Winnie sent Uncle Basil out to look for him and he found him lying out in the sun.”

“Is he all right?”

“I’m not sure, Papa,” she replied. “Aunt Winnie said to fetch you quick.”

Seth’s leg was sore and swollen by the time they reached his sister’s place. Winifred, his sister, greeted him at the door, tears streaming down her cheeks. She tried to speak but couldn’t.

“Where is he?” Seth asked. Winifred gestured toward the parlor. When he entered, Seth saw Bertram laid out on the settee. Little Elizabeth stood beside him, brushing his hair with her fingers. Winifred’s husband, Basil paced nearby.

“Bertram,” Seth called out as he stooped near his prone son. A bandage had been wrapped around his head, staving off the flow of blood from a wound on the back of his head. The boy felt feverish and his eyes were leaden. “Bertram … Bertram …” Seth repeated. He looked up at Basil. “What happened?”

“We sent him out to round up the cows,” Basil stated, his voice quivering. “He’s done it every day since he’s been staying here. When he didn’t come back near time, I went out to look for him. He was lying on the ground near the road, bleeding something awful. Thought maybe he stumbled and fell back onto his head … it’s mighty rocky out there. I sent my man for Doctor Booth.”

Seth peeled the bandage up to examine the wound. He expected to see a gash from a fall, but as he probed with his finger, Seth could see that it was not from a fall onto a rock. It was from a bullet.

“Bertram … Bertram,” Seth cried out, first holding his son’s limp body close, then rubbing his face, trying to bring life to his dull features. The boy’s eyes flickered slightly, perhaps the sight of his father had revived him. “Bertram!” The boy’s mouth moved slighty. His breathing was sporadic and shallow. “Bertram, who did this?”

Bertram’s mouth moved but only with a slight exhale. Several times he took breaths and his lips moved, but as much as Seth wanted to hear him speak, the boy seemed unable to say a word. Then with a final push of air, the boy sounded a word, a single word, “Pogue …”

“What?” Seth asked, rubbing his son’s face with his rough hand. “Pogue did this?”

“Pogue … Pogue …” the boy repeated before sinking back against the plush cloth of the settee.

They spent the afternoon waiting for Doc Booth, who finally arrived and probed the wound for a time before announcing that there was little he could do for the boy. Bertram passed shortly after. Winifred fell into the arms of her husband, sobbing. Fannie and Elizabeth gathered at Seth’s feet and they held each other tightly. But Seth didn’t cry. He didn’t have time to grieve as long as Pogue was alive and free. Without benefit of supper, Seth took up his son’s lifeless body and carried it toward the door.

“Where you going?” Basil called out.

“I’m taking my boy home,” Seth answered stolidly.

“At least let me take you in the buckboard,” Basil offered.

“I’ve got to do this,” Seth responded unswayed by the offer of his sister’s husband.

The girls remained with his sister and Seth walked the entire length of the path to his house. His leg didn’t hurt anymore, for Seth was without feeling. With each step, his resolve to seek revenge strengthened. It was nearly dusk when Seth reached the house and carried Bertram up to his room and laid him on his bed at last. Sherm was unable to control his own tears.

“What’s you gonna do?” Sherm asked with a sobbing voice, as Seth moved down the stairway.

“I’m going hunting,” Seth replied, picking up his rifle and checking for ammunition.

“Mista Lambert, sir … you sure you wanna do this?” Sherm asked.

Seth glared at him darkly, then strode off to the barn, saddled up his horse and rode into town. He found Tig and his crowd in the Tavern, playing cards and well on their way to becoming drunk.

“Where’s Pogue?” Seth shouted as he burst through the door.

“Pogue?” Tig asked. “Pogue? Anybody seen Pogue?”

“Heard he’s been up hunting critters on the North side of the mountain all day,” came one reply.

“Yeah, but now he’s hot on the trail of some deserter rat down near the hollow,” came another reply.

“If you see that asthmatic syphilitic bastard,” Seth seethed. “Tell him the last man he’s going to see alive is me.”

Tig kicked back in his chair and stood up. “Those are mighty powerful words, Lambert. The Law don’t take kindly to folks who harm the Home Guard.”

“This ain’t got nothing to do with the Home Guard,” Seth spit out. “This is between him and me. Now, who has seen him?” Seth looked around the room closely examining the faces circled around the table. They mostly looked at each other. “Where’s Pogue?!” Seth demanded.

A couple faces glanced upstairs quickly then back to the card table. Seth knew that Pogue liked one of the girls who lived over the tavern, and he moved quickly up the stairs.

“Don’t be a fool,” Lambert!” Tig shouted after him.

Seth pounded on doors and opened them until he found Pogue in bed with the shameless harlot atop him, her curvy naked body humping his skinny pale bones. Seth lifted his rifle and aimed toward Pogue’s head.

“What the?” Pogue shouted. The girl screamed and climbed off frantically reaching for something with which to cover herself. Pogue held up his hand as he slowly scrambled for his britches.

“Were you up on the north side of the mountain today?” Seth asked.

“Yeah, I was hunting coons with Oliver Benedict, what about it?”

“Hunting coons you say? In broad daylight?” Seth said, his rifle still trained on Pogue.

“Yeah, got me a big one too, smack in the back of the head,” Pogue laughed, pulling his britches up his gangly legs.

“You bastard!” Seth said between his clenched teeth. His finger pulled back on the trigger. “That was my boy!”

“You ain’t gonna do this,” Pogue said defiantly, standing up and fastening his britches. “I’m the Home Guard and you can’t prove nothing.”

“I don’t need to prove a thing, you bastard!” Seth spat out. “But you’re going to have some explaining to do when you get to heaven.”

“Tig is right, you’re the biggest fool on Cold Mountain,” Pogue chuckled. “All noise but no bang!”

“I’ll tell you what, Pogue, we killed much better men in the Indian Wars than the likes of you,” Seth grunted. The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs resounded down the hallway. Pogue gave Seth a look, a leisurely, defiant, arrogant, confident glance that told Seth that Pogue didn’t believe a word he had said. As Pogue pulled on his shirt, Seth lowered his rifle. Was this weakling hiding behind a tin plated badge worth sacrificing all that he had known? Then Seth realized that he had nothing more to lose in this life. With his boy now dead at the hands of this lowest life, there was no more that could be taken from him that would mean more. He raised his rifle and stared down Pogue. There was no turning back at this point.

“You’re a fool, a weak, pathetic fool, Lambert,” Pogue taunted.

Seth’s rifle sounded, the flash lighting up the entire room just as the crowd gathered at the doorway. Seth didn’t turn back to see the splatter of blood or the sickly pale and quite dead body of Pogue splayed across the sheets of sin. He didn’t hear the screams of the girl as she hovered over the remains of her lover. Seth simply pushed his way through the crowd and went directly down to the post to which he had tied his horse.

“Lambert! You’ll pay for this!” Tig called out.

“Tell it to the judge, if he ever comes!” Seth shouted back, then drove his horse back hard to the farm. He slept that night in the room with his son’s body, his sleep haunted by grisly dreams of his son falling to the single shot of Pogue interspersed with sweet dreams of Miss Aida Monroe bathing by the stream, her pale body glowing in the brilliant sun ...

 

[little_golden]

OCC: Miltone love your writing as always. My slow posting is caused by the excellence of your writing. I feel guilty unless I can write something worthwhile.

ICC

The old black mare pulled the worn out buggy that Aida took to town. There was a squeak to the back right wheel that sounded an ghastly warning. Aida was dressed in prime and proper in a dark calico dress, with a straw hat and a lovely yellow ribbon that her father had purchased years before. The day was warm and the sun blazed across the land. It was almost high noon and the temperature was unbearable. Aida wiped the perspiration from her forehead.

I'm a lady... I've got parents watching me in heaven... I have to make them proud... I may be poor now... But I still am me.... Aida reminded herself as she guided the old mare along the dirt road leading to town.

Aida had heard the regular news in town. It always seem to come in bits and pieces. It was neither 100% right nor a 100% wrong. The local town officials didn't seem to know any more news than the rest of the community. The letters from the boys at the front painted the real picture of the war - but the letters were often months old by the time they reached home.

The old post office was always the first stop on Aida's trip to town. As usual, there were lots of folk assembled to collect their mail and talk to their neighbors. Aida heard the usual worries and complaints. Slowly she checked the list of dead and missing brave Confederate soldiers. Mrs. Baxter was screaming and wailing, there were tears of outrage and disbelief as she lamented the loss of her eldest boy - George.

"War is hard on the folks at home" an old man with a white beard mumbled aloud.

Oh Lord... that poor woman Mrs. Baxter... She's lost her husband and two boys in this war. Please let the war end and the men folk return. Please let my Emmitt return safely Aida whispered a silent prayer as she walked to the dry goods store.

Like always, a number of women were lingering in the shop. None of the women had a lot of money. Prices were soaring. The war had caused shortages and what little was available was almost unaffordable.

Aida listened as she browsed the store pretending she could actually afford something of substance. Carefully she listened to the women as they shared gossip about the ever coming advance of the grand Yankee army with all their horses, canons, and thousands of men. One of the ladies' spoke about the rumor that the Union army was at this very moment cascading across Cold Mountain. The store clerk Sally Jones was quick to dismiss the story and reminded everyone that the Home Guard would protect them from any Yankee advance.

The Home Guard couldn't fight off 50 men. If the Yankees came with any type of army at all they'd probably flee than fight. The local boys were equipped with pistols and old single shot rifles Aida thought privately. She didn't dare share her thoughts. The other women might turn on her. It was a very dangerous place to be expressing your thoughts.

Aida joined the group of women:

"Hello ladies.... Pleasant day..... " Aida smiled at them. The women seemed to inspect her, analyze her, and then made a decision that she was okay to talk to.

"Hello Aida...." they replied in unison. Then the women resumed their talking and gossiping. Aida blushed as one of the women spoke to the persistent reports that the southern belles were being taken captive and used to pleasure the advancing Yankee soldiers. The ladies all agreed this was outrageous and that their southern men would avenge any such indignity on the field of battle.

"You best be careful Aida... with no menfolk around your place to protect you" one of the married women chirped at her.

Another lady in the group shared her belief that the "darn" Yankee soldiers were robing good folks of their property, food, and hunting rifles. Her cousin Mirabelle from the other county had heard it from an injured soldier returning from the front line. All the women seemed to nod their heads as if that had to be the solemn truth.

Sally Jones jumped in, as if to justify the expensive fabrics, as she told the group of women that she heard from a reliable source, that the Yankees were burning out stores of cotton, plantations and farms alike in a rapid display of deprived unchristian behavior.

"They are trying to starve us, and rob us, rather than try to beat our boys in a fair fight" Sally spoke patriotically.

Aida almost collapsed as old Mrs. Brown, a saint in the local community, and a pillar of virtue had broken out in tears as she explained that her own great niece Janice Thorton had been soiled by three union soldiers. The poor thing had been apprehended after dark trying to cross a union line and was stripped down to nothing and then used like a common harlot.

The poor girl had been so devastated that her doctor had almost placed her in a sanitarium for her own health. But the girl would have none of it and simply shut out the word and hid in her bedroom while she waited to have the bastard child.

"Oh my!" Aida had blurted out at the implication of a bastard child.

"What's worse... " Mrs. Brown whispered... "those Yankee soldiers were black!"

The other southern women gasped. Aida didn't speak.

Then Mrs. Coventry herself didn’t mince words as she spoke ill of Mrs. Sanders. It seemed that Mrs. Sanders had kin fighting for the North. It had been an awful scene the day earlier when Mrs. Coventry had refused to sell sugar and flour to Mrs. Sanders. Folks in town had been divided whether or not they should simply run Mrs. Sanders from town since she had kin sympathetic to the cause of northern aggression.

“But…. But…. Mrs. Sanders hasn’t done anything to promote the cause of the North, she’s a devoted member of this community. If she had boys instead of girls, her men folk would be fighting with the South!” Aida had interjected but her sweet voice had been ignored entirely.

"You're so sweet Aida... but a little naive.... when those Yankees come looting and raping here... You won't be so sympathetic" Sally Jones replied in a sarcastic tone.

"If they killed your Emmitt - you would be singing a different song. He could be rotting in a yankee prison. You know they're murdering their prisoners..." Sally Jones continued on Aida.

Aida now felt uncomfortable and knew that she had overstayed her welcome. She was now very anxious to leave the dry goods shop and paid for her purchases. All she could afford was two cups of flour, and half a cup of sugar.

Coming out of the shop, she overheard the unexpected.

“Yep… I heard it at the livery…. That crazy fool Lambert murdered that boy in cold blood.… There was a whole crowd of that home guard that heard him make the threat to young Pogue… Then he blasted Pogue sending him to his creator….”

“Excuse me….” Aida had tried to break into the conversation which ended midstream as soon as the men realized that Aida was listening.

“Well G’day ma’am… You don’t want to worry your pretty self about such unhappy tidings… Those are affairs of the menfolk“ the man responded ever so politely and gallantly to Aida.

“You’re right of course” Aida replied as she made a small smile and left the two gentlemen. She was in a panic as she tried to decide where she could get more news.

I could go and see Tig. He'd know. I bet he'd tell me.... Or... I could go to the tavern..... the men there would know.... or the girls would have overheard something Aida rationalized.

Aida grabbed the bottom of her dress and hurried towards the town’s single tavern. The road was dirty and she didn't want to drag the bottom of her dress so she carried it in an awkward fashion. She had never gone in to such a place but knew that if there was information to be had that was the place to be.
With the greatest of reluctance, Aida made her way down the street towards the tavern known for its hard drinking, whores, gambling, fighting and lost souls.

Her late father had preached so many times against drinking, against fornication, and against gambling and violence. She had been taught from the earliest age that card playing was the work of the devil. If a young woman wasn’t careful it could lead her right to the devil. During many prayer services the whole congregation had prayed for the lost souls and soiled doves.

As she got closer to the tavern, she could feel various eyes staring at her from across the street along the various boardwalks. She knew a a lady wasn’t supposed to go anywhere near a tavern but she just had to find out what this madness about Mr. Lambert killing someone was all about. It made no sense whatsoever. Mr. Lambert was the nicest of gentlemen in town. He was a family man with children.

Aida waited outside the tavern. She didn't want to go in. A rambling drunk suddenly came flying through the door narrowly missing Aida. He fell hard to the ground, was bleeding from the nose, and slowly rose from the ground.

"Excuse me mister... Did you hear anything about Mr. Lambert?" Aida pleaded with the drunk.

"Nope... I didn't hear anything about that man... Folks talking about a local gent .... Seems he's a Yankee sympathizer.... He murdered a local Home Guard boy... over some harlot... Burst in on the cheating dove and blasted her lover" the drunk blurted out in a shameless fashion.

"No... no... can't be Mr. Lambert..... " Aida replied thankfully. Her worries were just starting to subside as one of the harlots emerged from behind her. The dark haired beauty had overheard the conversation and piped in uninvited.

"Pogue's dead..... that crazy Seth Lambert kilt him.... But don't you worry none... The Home Guard will hunt him down and hang him" the dark haired harlot announced triumphantly. It felt like a slap to Aida's face.

"Oh you're sweet on the bastard" the dark haired harlot laughed and grinned triumphantly.

"Ahhh... ahhh no.... he's a neighbor ... and a good man.....He would be with no harlot... and he wouldn't murder no one" Aida announced with her own contempt.

"Well peaches.... seems like he lost his brains after his son died in some accident.... blamed it all on poor innocent Pogue..... I bet you're a Yankee deep down peaches.... You ain't really from around here..... I remember you only came a few years back honey" the harlot continued while the drunk stood with his mouth open.

"No... no... you lying harlot!" Aida screamed at her as she could barely contain herself. She wanted to strike the harlot but it wasn't within her to do so.

"Just remember peaches.... when you got no man... and your money runs out... and your starving.... Madam Beth will put you to work on your back like me!" the harlot laughed and laughed as Aida worked her way back to her buggy.

"Can't be..." Aida whispered as she walked, unaware of time or space. She stumbled as she mounted the buggy and tugged on the reins.

"I'll go to Mr. Lambert's ... It can't be true" Aida spoke to herself as she headed off to Mr. Lambert's farm as fast as she dared push the old black mare.

 

[Miltone]

Seth finds peace in a dream ...

The hound trails its prey deep into the brush … he follows, crouching down … passing through the dappled shade … stepping slowly … soundless footfalls … the howl of the hound suddenly fades … the breeze changes … the Wisteria stirs … a cool scent … fresh water … a stream … ain’t no stream in these woods … pausing in his tracks … the splashing of water … footsteps in the water … a girl’s laugh … moving forward again … through a last tangle of dense brush … a golden glimmer … he gasps at the sight … Aida Monroe, her boots pulled off … her dress and petticoats left behind, folded over a branch … the skirt of her gown held high as she wades into the water … crouching low, afraid to move back else a crackling branch underfoot reveal his presence … she pulls at the laces and takes down her gown … another gasp, deeper and heartfelt … her pale white skin, perfect as porcelain … splashes of cool stream water on her body … the rosy tips of her breasts taut and upward pointing … squatting low, his heart in his throat … gown raised high … her long legs like finely turned columns of alabaster … the precious tuft of fine reddish fur on the mound of her sex … he groans as his manhood throbs, seeking release … placing a hand down to balance himself … she pauses and looks directly at him … sharp blue eyes piercing his … “It’s fine, Seth, I’ve been waiting for you” … her hand beckons him … haltingly he steps forward … he draws near … her damp translucent gown clings to every slender curve … his rough haggard hands reaching to cradle her face … her eyes filled with tears … her tears become the stream … carrying them away, washing away the red dust of Cold Mountain …

Seth bolted upright as if shocked from the heavens above. He had fallen asleep in his chair again, rifle laid across his lap. The first traces of daylight painted orange streaks across the horizon, the sound of the whippoorwills and crows resounding from the trees. For the nights after losing Bertram, his son, Seth Lambert kept an uneasy watch over his farm. Old Sherm would camp out in the fields, keeping watch too, a loud call away should the need arise. Ain’t no telling if or when Tig and his Home Guard would pay a call.

Seth had heard the rumors bubbling quickly through the valley, how he had gunned down Pogue in cold blood, fighting over a woman. Anyone who knew Seth knew that he had no taste for the licentious hussies who lived above the tavern. He told anyone who asked about what had happened to his son Bertram, and his son’s dying words. Even Doctor Booth made it known that it was no accident; the slug he had pulled from Bertram came from the kind of rifle Pogue was known to carry, especially when hunting coons. Seth prayed that the good souls of Cold Mountain who held little charity toward Tig and his men would be able to discern the truth. The rest be damned! Otherwise there was little Seth could do than to protect what was left of his homestead.

But his dream was quite another thing. It came to him nearly every night in some form or other. Sometimes he would be tracking a coyote through the snow by the old Wilkes place and stumble into the ramshackle cabin to escape the frigid wind. Other times he would be slogging through the soft ground heavy from a spring rain, or tramping through the dry shimmering grass in the heat of summer. But there was always Aida Monroe, her stark beauty, her grace and charm, and she always called for him, and the swirling winds or rushing water always carried them away to strange places of darkness and light.

The vision of her in his dreams was the only kindly thing that he had to look forward to each day, other than the company of his daughters. But the dreams made his every contact with Miss Monroe all the more difficult, for she was so pretty and proper and elegant, and his dreams of her were always so base and lusty and passionate. He struggled with every word he spoke to her, hoping only the purest of his intentions would grace her heart.

This day went as others had ever since Bertram had been laid into the ground. There was his modest herd of cattle to milk and feed, goats and chickens to care for, and a dozen chores to which he had to attend. Even beneath the prodigious hot sun, Seth found himself digging harder into the earth to reset a fence post, or snapping harder on the switch when driving the cattle, hoping that the expended energy would assuage the pain he felt on losing his only son. But there was no relief, only the numbing pain and sense of loss.

Seth spent a good part of the afternoon working on the bell for his front gate. Two towering oak trees that his grandfather had planted during his first year on Cold Mountain straddled the gate. From the house and other vantage points, the gate could not be seen, and with the Home Guard certain to pay a visit one day soon, Seth wanted as much warning as possible. He fastened a sturdy length of wire to the gate and ran it up over a limb of the nearest oak. He then fashioned a rack for a large cowbell so that when the gate was opened enough for a man to slip through, the bell would ring out.

Seth opened and closed the gate several times, pleased with his little invention. Certainly it wouldn’t stop Tig and his men, but it might pay Seth a fair warning should they come. He stood outside the gate and wiped his hands and mopped his brow. The sun was hot this summer day and beat down relentlessly. He was about to head back up to the house when he heard the clop of horse’s hooves and the rising trail of red dust along the road from town. The distinct rattle of a carriage caught his curiosity. When the buggy cleared the rise and came around the bend, Seth could see through the shimmering heat the slender form of Miss Monroe at the reins. She pulled the buggy to a stop at his gate. Perhaps his presence at the gate surprised her for she appeared flushed.

“Mr. Lambert,” she called out, brushing the dust from her dark calico dress and straightening her straw hat. She seemed riled and agitated.

“Afternoon, Miss Monroe,” Seth answered, tipping his hat. “Wha … what brings me the … honor of your presence this hot day?”

“I’ve just come from town,” she began. “There are rumors that you … you killed a man … one of Tig’s men, Pogue.”

“That I did,” Seth said, standing tall and defiant. Aida Monroe was one of the folk he prayed would remain on his side. “Killing a man is not something I’m proud of, Miss Monroe, but something that was necessary to avenge the death of my boy. The man was a coward, shooting an unarmed child in the back!” Seth could feel his chin tremble as his words played out.

“But they say that his death was an accident,” Miss Monroe replied.

“Bertram’s death was no accident, ask the good Doctor Booth,” Seth seethed. “And I could see the evil sneer in Pogue’s eye the moment before he meet his maker.”

“I … I fear for you Mr. Lambert,” Miss Monroe added. “While this war runs its course, Tig is still a powerful man. He will seek revenge.”

“Do not worry. I have no fear of that, Miss Monroe,” Seth said, approaching the buggy. “I know that I am in the right and that the Lord has forgiven me.” Seth reached up to the buggy and placed his hand on top of hers that were folded in her lap. “I can look after myself … I am more concerned about your situation. Have they left you be?”

“I … I’ve been fine,” she said softly. “Though Tig still pays a weekly call on Ruby.” Her slender body trembled. “If anything happens to you, I fear that I shall be next …” Her frightened voice trailed off.

The thought of Tig having his way with Miss Monroe made his temper flare. Though beset by dreams of a carnal nature involving Aida, Seth was a civilized man. As long as Emmit was alive, Seth would protect her honor. He looked up at her flushed worried face and gripped her delicate hands tightly.

“I pledge to you that will not happen, Miss Monroe,” Seth stated. Her face was still racked with concern and he wanted for words that could give her comfort. He looked about himself. “You look as though you could use some refreshment. Would you have time to come up to my house for a cool drink?”

“I should be getting back,” Aida Monroe said smiling weakly. “But I could spare a few minutes.”

Seth opened the gate and Miss Monroe drove through. Once inside, she stopped long enough for Seth to climb up beside her for the short ride up to the house. Seth climbed down and helped Aida down. As his hands grasped her sides and she alighted to the ground, Seth noticed how light she was, so slender and soft and delicate. The heat of the sun had caused her dress to cling to her warm body. In the shade of his back porch, they each sat with a tall cool glass of cider. Aida had untied the lovely yellow ribbon that held her straw hat and set it on the table beside her. Seth marveled at the rich color of her curls. Just like in his dream …

“Your daughters are not with you?” Miss Monroe asked.

“They are spending the day with my sister,” Seth replied. “They much prefer the company of their cousins to mine.”

Aida smiled and glanced off into the distance. The view from the porch was lovely. Beyond the harvested fields of corn and beans lay the orchards and beyond that rose the mountain. The light afternoon breeze filtered through the trees.

“This is most pleasant,” Seth remarked. “It was kind of you to stop if only for a short while.”

Aida looked at him and smiled. It appeared that she was about to say something, but what it might be mattered little to him. Seth wished this moment to lengthen for it had been a long time since he had set on the porch with a woman, and never with one such as Aida Monroe.

OC: Writing with you has been a pleasure, Miss Golden, and I trust for our readers as well. The best parts of this story are yet to come. When it comes to posting, I too prefer quality over quantity.