Western Trails & Beyond (For DarkWarrioress and myself)

[JackHemingway]

Jackson Graham looked up from his journal and out the window to the now-dark snowy plains outside Fort Bridger. It had finally stopped snowing a few hours after supper, and he hoped no travelers were caught in these harsh conditions that were part of life in Blacks Fork near Green River in Wyoming. Even an experienced frontiersman and wagon guide like himself had decided to winter here at the Triangle Trading Post a few miles from the fort.



As he lit a cigar and cracked the window slightly, Jackson Graham, now a skilled outdoorsman type, couldn't help but reflect on his journey. It was a far cry from his days as a computer programmer in Hartford, Connecticut, a life he never thought he'd leave behind. Yet, here he was and had been adventuring on the American frontier and beyond for some twelve years, and now, in the second week of January, it looked like he would start another year.



In this world, he had a reputation as a gunfighter, an adventurer, and even the subject of dime novels. The reality was that before all that, he was a twenty-four-year-old kid who lived off of pizza and Mountain Dew and was obsessed with the computer game Western Trails. Suddenly, though, one day, he went from playing the game to living it full-time.



Yeah, Jackson Graham was once just Jack Jasek, a legend in the Western Trails gaming community. In the real world, he was just some guy working on his master's in computer programming while working part-time at a computer store. However, he'd shined when it came to the historical simulator that covered everything from the early days of Western Expansion in the United States through the Civil War until the glory days of the American West.



He'd played the game extensively, creating a following in the online community. He'd helped thousands of players and written articles. He created mods to enhance the experience, adding everything from details about Native American tribes to the Pony Express and tons of new items. If he was just another student at the University of Hartford, he was a community leader online and even had a girlfriend.



PioneerSara1849 was the screen name of one of the other prolific Western Trails online gamers, and most importantly, Sara was a real woman who liked him. They started chatting after he noticed she was an avid mod maker and won several online contests. Because of her, there was a female version of every profession in the game, besides many other exciting ideas. Over a year, their relationship blossomed.



It grew as much as it could online anyway. Jack and Sara chatted almost daily, sent emails, and worked together on projects. They wrote fanfiction for each other, talked on the phone, and exchanged gifts through Amazon. They'd finally planned to get together and spend time at a gaming convention, but then he disappeared. That is what he thought could happen, though. Jack became Jackson. He had no idea what happened in the old world, and he had no idea how he'd end up in this one.



It might have been twelve years, but this cowboy still missed Sara sometimes, even if he'd had relationships and friendships in this new world, which was foreign and familiar all at once. He'd landed back in time and on another version of Earth, and he had no idea how he got there, but he grew into his role. He had a multitude of skills commonplace in the game but not in his world, but they came to him like memories.



Jack hadn't been on a horse except as a kid, but Jackon was a hell of a cowboy. He could drink, fight, and cuss with the best of them. He knew how to shoot and build a canoe, and while it churned his stomach for a while, he could hunt and gut an animal like any other chore. While in the beginning, he racked his brains and searched for any way to return, eventually, he gave in to the realization that he was stuck in this world, so he tried to be the best version of Jackson Graham he could.



So Jackson Graham traveled the trails, guiding pioneers through the West. He panned for gold, traded with the Native peoples, and rode the Pony Express. With his knowledge and abilities, he did a little of everything and had seen war and peace. Jackson loved women, fought in gunfights, and did the stuff of legends. Sometimes, he was even happy and content with life.



Jackson couldn't be sure he knew how the gaming world from his old life was affecting the frontier world. Things kept changing, though the overall world stayed the same. People's mods and scenarios caused these changes, and he participated in many of them. In the past two years, he'd adventurered and fought bandits in Mexico; he'd taken a steamship to South America and explored the Amazon. Jackson returned to America to visit New York City and then journeyed to Canada to help negotiate a treaty between the Natives and the government. This was separate from the original game, and he wasn't sure if time worked the same way, but he did his best to adapt.



After spending some time gold prospecting, buffalo hunting, and guiding more immigrants, he decided to winter here at the Triangle Trading Post. Jackson had amassed three wagon loads of trade goods, hides, and personnel items and took over a small warehouse with a second-floor living space for himself. He'd help the Statton family establish this place more than a few seasons back. It got its name because it was a three-sided walled fort design.



It was a mod he'd worked on with Sara, so he had everything laid out in his head, from the amount of lumber needed to all the measurements. He'd helped many families like the Stattons over the years and had been staying with them since Thanksgiving. Jackson helped around the trading post, wrote letters, visited with friends, and thought about Sara.



Jackson wondered what kind of life she had now and if she had ever given him a passing thought. While so much had gone well for him in this world, she was one of the things he truly missed. He lit a candle every year to remember her birthday, and when asked, he'd always say she was his first love. With so much death on the frontier, when he didn't want to talk about her further, people just assumed and gave him space.



With nobody there to listen, he smiled as he stared into the dark, snowy night and said, "Happy Birthday, Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year, Sara. Wherever you are, I hope you're happy."

 

[DarkWarrioress]

Sara Williams sat at her desk and just stared out the window in front of her. Idly her mind wandered to Jack and once again wondered what had happened to him and why had he just seemed to vanish from the face of the earth. She thought they had something happening between them. Maybe she had read everything all wrong.

They had met online. Nothing unusual there in this day and age. Jack lived in Connecticut and she lived almost about as far away as one could get from him. She lived in what was called Silicon Valley in California. For her, it was just the right place to be. She was a computer programmer and loved her job. In her spare time she loved to play a computer game called Western Trails. That’s how she and Jack first met. They had both been enthusiastically part of the online community. They started talking in the forums and then went to DMs and eventually texting and calling each other. Their shared love of the game had brought them together. They had even talked about actually meeting each other face to face. Then one day, nothing. Nada. Zip. Sara actually got frantic and tried to locate him to no avail. Eventually, life moved on and so did Sara. She got her degree. Got a fantastic job. Jack would have been so happy for her. There had been a few other men, lovers, in her life. Still, some small part of her mind wondered about Jack from time to time.

One evening, late, Sara got up from her computer to pour herself a glass of wine before she went to stand on her outdoor balcony with a fantastic view of the Pacific Ocean. Living here wasn’t cheap by any means but she could afford it with this new job. The moon was high in the sky and cast its glow over the rolling waves before they crashed into the beach. She loved the sound of the ocean and could stand outside and listen the waves for hours. It had a calming effect on her, which was a good thing since her new job was quite stressful with its deadlines and secrecy. Still, between Western Trails and the ocean, she managed. She raised her glass to the night sky.

“Wherever you are Jack, I hope you are happy.”

Sara took a sip of her wine and went to sit in one of her chaise lounges on the deck. Between the wine and the waves, they lured her off to sleep. She woke up to the sound of horses and someone yelling.

“Load ‘em up and move ‘em on out!”

The wagon she was lying in started to jolt forward. Wait. What? Horses? Wagon? Sara sat up abruptly, looking around, bewildered. Where was she? And what was going on? In the moving wagon with her were four girls of various ages, an older female that Sara assumed was their mother and up front sat an older male and young boy. She brushed her chestnut locks out of her face.

“Where are we? What’s happening?”

She didn’t ask anyone in particular.

“We’re going to Oregon!”

One of the little girls answered her. Sara didn’t find that answer altogether informative.

“How are you feeling, dear? Any better?”

Sara sat up straighter and looked at the woman. There were a thousand of questions darting through her mind at the moment.

“Yes, much. Thank you.”

Brushing her fingertips across her forehead, made her wince. Feeling around she found she had a small bump on her head.

“This trip isn’t going to help your head, I’m afraid but we’ll make the most of it, won’t we girls?”

“I’m sorry to ask… but where are we exactly?”

“I’m told we’re not far from Fort Keamy in the Nebraska Territory. We’re traveling what they call the Oregon Trail.”

That made Sara sit up straighter. The Oregon Trail? Not possible. Was it? The last thing she remembered was falling asleep on her deck in California, listening to the Pacific Ocean. Dear god. What had happened to her?

 

[JackHemingway]

https://www.britannica.com/topic/Oregon-Trail

 

[JackHemingway]

Hundreds of miles away from Fort Keamy, with the return of Spring on the trails, Fort Bridger and the Triangle Trading Post were soon bustling again. The Statton family had been wonderful hosts over the winter months. The younger children were happy to hear all his many stories, while the older children learned from his guidance, and Frank and Velma were always good for a conversation. Granted, it was usually about their store or cattle, but they were happy to read the books he shared or play a game of cards or chess. Despite the many hours they spent tending to the trading post and their children, he was pretty sure they were working on a seventh child. Velma's sister Amelia, a recent trail widow, was also there with her three children. A school teacher by trade who also had mastered her late husband's carpenter trade had been very helpful to him, building storage boxes and shelves for his many items. She'd also be a wonderful and loving late-night companion who would walk over when her children were asleep. She'd made it clear that she wasn't ready for another marriage but was so lonely at night after the day's tasks. They agreed to be discrete special friends, and Jackson enjoyed their time together over the snowy months. The lovely, curvy farmer's daughter with chestnut hair wasn't adverse to warming up the sheets and enjoying some stress-releasing orgasms, but she was also a lovely person to talk with, and while Jackson knew she wouldn't understand his old life, he could share things with her. She also found it very erotic that he knew positions besides missionary, and she still blushed when he made her cry out in pleasure. Amelia and Velma have an understanding, and it was amusing to watch them whisper, talk, and gesture to him. When Amelia said she had a headache, Velma would take the children overnight and keep them until after breakfast. For a hard-working woman with children, a quiet dinner, sex in a warm bed, and being able to sleep in things were paradise.

Amelia sat by the stove, clad only in a soft, warm buffalo robe with matching boots, examining a lever-action rifle with two now empty breakfast bowls on a small table. Jackson walked over and gave her a peck on the cheek. She sat down and refilled both cups of coffee. She smiled and looked across at him, already dressed for the day but for his trusty gun belt. "You're too generous to me, Jackon. I'm not some kept woman. I come to you at night because I like you, and you're kind to my children."

He reached over and squeezed her hand, smiled, and nodded. "I can afford to be generous, so I'm going to be. My first year on the trail was miserable, and I was fortunate to meet nice people who helped me out even when they didn't have much, so I paid it forward. Anyway, are you going to tell me about these job offers?"

Giving again to her benefactor, who never made her feel like a charity case or a whore she knew he could never repay her. Jackson had helped her rebuild her wagon, gave her plenty of supplies, including clothing for her and the children, and he'd taught them and her the use of firearms. She knew how to use a compass map, and he'd taught her about hunting and farming. Jackson told her he wanted to ensure she didn't need a man until she wanted one. "Well, my sister and brother-in-law are happy to have me stay on as a clerk, but they already have a bookkeeper, so I think I'll just help when I can. The schoolmaster in town says he needs an assistant and secretary, so I can stay close. The pastor of a Mormon community up the road says they want a full-time school teacher for all their children. They're nice people with pretty farms, but I get the feeling he also wants another wife. Oh, and Chief Wanikiya wants me to come out and live among his Sioux people and teach the children English and Mathematics. Ah, he promises food, lodging, and payment in trade goods or coin."

Jackson sipped his coffee and leaned back, nodding, taking in everything she said. "Well, I'd love to see you around here, but I know you like being in a classroom. The town has a good school, and Mr. Blair is a fine teacher who went to college in New York. You want to teach not to be rushed into marriage, and you're not Mormon," Amelia had been nodding along, shook her head in displeasure at the thought of being in an unwanted situation like that.

Jackson paused for a minute and continued, "Now, the tribe offers an interesting opportunity. The children would grow up knowing Sioux life, and you might even find a husband there." Amelia gestured playfully and then smiled as she thought about it.

"Chief Wanikiya said he knew you. Is it true you two visited Salt Lake City together?"

"Yeah, that was some years back. After I returned from South America, he was selling timber and other things and wanted to ensure he got a fair deal. He's a great hunter with a bow and rifle and an honest man. You might want to consider his offer. His tribe does well in the fur trade and provides guides, but he hates the raiders."

"I will, Jackson. Thank you for being so helpful. I'm not mad, but you said her name when you cuddled me in your sleep last night. I understand. I lost someone, too. It's hard sometimes. I even think of him while we're, you know."

Jackson sighed, put down his coffee cup, reached out, held Amelia's hands, and nodded. "Thanks for being so understanding. I lost her a long time ago, but you know what it's like to have someone special in your heart. They stay there. I'm glad we're friends, and I shared with you."

Amelia squeezed both his hands and replied, "When I lost my husband at South Pass, I thought my life was over. Then I met the second kindest man in a long time. I hope you find someone to make you as happy as she did when you were together. But for what it is worth, you make me believe I can find someone that good again."

It did mean a lot that she cared, and while romance wasn't meant to be a friendship, it did mean a lot. Twelve years on the frontier, you saw a lot of loss, but you saw a lot of joy, and you got to sit around the campfire with plenty of interesting folks. While one had to deal with all that, there was an old life he'd left behind, and he wondered what people thought. He was sure Sara and everyone had gone on with their lives, and he had to so he could survive. He'd even come up with a convincing story of his early years in Connecticut, where his mother was a housewife tending to their small farm, and his father was a fisherman. In real life, his father and mother worked in real estate, and they weren't terribly close, preferring to send Christmas cards to family and have clients over for holiday parties. They wanted him in the family business, and college wasn't worthwhile when they offered him a great opportunity. They knew about Sara, but they didn't offer any help with Airfair for the "girl on the computer," computer games were just a waste of time. It was easier to tell people like Amelia that his parents were kind, hardworking people who'd passed on, and he'd lost Sara as she was traveling out to the frontier. For better or worse, he had a new life now and planned to live it to the fullest.

After he got going, he'd make at least a dozen stops, ranging from businesses to checking on new settlers to meeting with the bank president. One person Jackson could look back on without feeling the need to change much was his grandfather, who was a businessman. However, unlike his father, Jackson felt that money and success allowed you to help people, not just the means to make more money. He tried to live that in t his world, and while there were plenty of dangerous people, many needed help and protection. So that also meant meeting with Curtis 'Bushwacker' Butler at a small local roadside tavern. Curtis was a former soldier and cowboy who regularly went after the raiders. While he and his band weren't conventional law enforcement, the fewer immigrants to be attacked and or robbed, the better. Jackson never would have thought he'd be a gunfighter, but out here, all you could do was man up.

 

[DarkWarrioress]

Here they were a week later and Sara still had no answers to her mental questions, especially the one of how in the world did she get here? She was pretty sure that somehow, someway, she had fallen asleep in the modern world and woke up sometime in the 1800’s. Rocking along in the wagon with the family she had woken up to, Sara was silent, thinking back to a week ago…..

“Ma’am, if you don’t mind, may I ask you what your name is.”

The woman turned toward Sara, cuddling an infant to her breast.

“Why, of course dear. My name is Amelia Hollis. That there is Emily, Sarah, Sissy and this little one is Nellie. My husband up there is John and our boy next to him is Todd. Poor sweetheart. He’s outnumbered with all these girls. He sticks pretty close to his Pa.”

“Thank you. My name is Sara Williams----”

“Sarah. Just like me!”

Little Sarah piped in, sitting up ramrod straight with a huge grin on her face.

“Sarah, child. Do not interrupt your elders while they’re talking. I’m sorry Sara, she gets so excited sometimes, she forgets her manners.”

“I’m sorry.”

Young Sarah seemed so forlorn that Sara scooped her up and put the young one in her lap. Sarah, of course, beamed again.

“You were saying, dear?”

“I just wanted to thank you for taking me in.”

“You are most welcome. When John came home carrying you, you weren’t even conscious. It was raining the night he found you on the ground, with a huge bump on your head. He thinks maybe the horse you were riding got spooked from the thunder and threw you.”

“I’m afraid I don’t remember a thing right now.”

Well, that was a partial truth, at least. If Sara had told Amelia the whole truth, she might as well written “crazy woman” on her forehead. No, it was better to simply say nothing. Now, if only she could figure out a way back to her life. The one in modern day California. The problem was, she didn’t know how she had gotten here in the first place so finding a way back seemed almost impossible. Even her clothes had been swapped out for a simple muslin print. She had a hunch that the dress actually had belonged to Amelia.

So, they were in Southern Nebraska at the moment. That fit in with the Oregon Trail and Sara should know. She built mods for the game Western Trails and Fort Keamy had been one. Sara wracked her mind for information on Native American tribes in the area and any other challenges they might come in contact with. Then, another incredible thought crossed her mind. What were the odds of her actually somehow being teleported into her most favorite game of all time? No. Not possible. Was it?

Right now, there was just too much going on that seemed unbelievable. Yet. Here she was. Living proof that such things could happen.

Halting the wagon train for the night came early, usually around 4pm, was Sara’s guess. Of course, they got an early start as well, with everyone rising around 4am before they got going again at 7am. The wagon train was drawn in its protective circle for the night. Everyone had chores to see to, from cooking to securing the animals so they could graze. Meals were simple on the trail. Beans, biscuits and if the hunting party was lucky enough, there was fresh meat to share as well. After eating and the cleaning up was done, usually they gathered around a small fire. Someone had a harmonica. Another would have a fiddle and another would bring out a banjo. A lively time was usually had. Other times, maybe just the fiddle and harmonica. When things got lively, there was dancing, clapping and stomping. Laughter would fill the air before things and people wandered off to settle in for the night. Their Wagon Master, Cooper Adams, would go around and assign men for different hours of the watch.

Their wagon was not all that large, considering everything they had packed in it. The girls slept in the wagon while John and Todd settled under it. It wouldn’t be a hardship for Sara to fit into this era, she loved it, well, at least from behind her computer screen. The reality of it, wasn’t so easy but she had gumption and her knowledge of this time, made things, maybe, a little easier on her. Still…. She longed for home.

For a week now, they had been lucky. No attacks by Indians or wild animals. Tonight proved no different. 4am came early. The circled wagon train hustled and bustled. Breakfast was done quickly. Supplies were restored in the wagons, animals were hitched and they soon found themselves back on the trail. Sara was entertaining the little girls in the wagon when loud noises came from outside. John turned and yelled at them.

“GET DOWN! STAY DOWN. TODD GET IN BACK WITH YOUR SISTERS.”

 

[DarkWarrioress]

The boy didn’t argue and did what his father told him to. Sara hushed the girls as much as she could. She had a hunch what was going on. It was an attack on their wagon train. She could hear Mr. Adams yelling. Gunfire could be heard. Gunsmoke filled the air. Sara hid the girls and Todd behind barrels of supplies. She directed Amelia to take the baby to the farthest corner of the wagon, away from the canvas cover. Sara’s back was to the cover so she didn’t see it ripped open and found herself snatched up and thrown over a moving horse. She was jerked, jolted and pitched around, face down on a horse. It wasn’t until sometime later that the horse came to a sweaty stop and she was hauled off the horse and jerked along. Sara stumbled after her captor. Brought to an abrupt halt, the Indian brave pulled her forward, pushing toward some of the women in their camp. Sara was a captive. As a captive, she was a slave in their eyes and if she didn’t move as quickly as they wanted her to, she was beaten. She didn’t understand their language so it was tough but Sara was a fast learner. She couldn’t speak their language. but she quickly learned to interpret their gestures. One of the women handed her food, pointing and shoving her toward one of the tipis. Sara stumbled but quickly regained her balance and moved in the direction she was meant to. Opening the cover, she stepped inside and blinked. It took a bit for her dark green eyes to adjust to the lack of sunlight she had been exposed to all day. As her eyes adjusted, she saw a well-muscled male sitting inside. The meal was for him. Slowly she walked around the fire, careful not to put herself between the fire and him. She set the food before him and started to back away, but his hand shot out and grabbed her arm, making her winch. Her head shot up. Green eyes met dark ones and they stared at each other, neither willing to look away. He spoke. She didn’t understand. He pointed to a corner farther away from him where a rug lay. He pushed her toward it. She sat down on the rug and looked around as he ate. His bed was lined with furs and looked soft and comfy nothing like what she was sitting on. Silently, he got up, tossed the remnants of his meal into the fire and left. Moments later, an elderly woman shuffled in and grabbed her, dragging her out of the tipi. Now what? Where were they going? Sara soon got her answer. The stream. With gestures from the old woman, Sara realized she was expected to bathe. Other women from the village were already in the water, whispering about her. The old woman whacked Sara on the arm and that was enough to motivate her. Sara hurriedly undressed and stepped into the water, sinking down into it. From the shore, the old woman signaled Sara to scrub herself with the sand from the streambed. Once done, the old woman then signaled her to come ashore and dress again. Sara was then led back to the tipi and led to the rug again. With nothing better to do, she turned her back to a wall and curled up into a ball, closing her eyes. She hoped that the Hollis’ were all right.

Sometime in the night, Sara woke up shivering and her stomach growling. However, she was not offered food and she would not steal it either. Silently, she got up, picked up the rug and laid back down, covering herself with it. The ground wasn’t much warmer. Her body started to shake so violently, her teeth chattered and as much as she tried to stop it, so as not to wake up her captor, there was no hiding it. She found herself roughly hauled to her feet and drug over to his bed, where she was yanked down and covered up. Sara tensed up, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did.

The next morning Sara was abruptly yanked from her warm, cozy sleeping spot and pushed out of the tipi. She stood there, blinking, trying to wake up when she was hit in the middle of her back and shoved toward the cooking pot. Her eyes found the old woman from yesterday and went to her, waiting. The elder gave a small grunt and sharp nod of her head, handing her a plate of food before gesturing back the way Sara had come. Knowing what that meant, Sara started back. The rich aroma of food hit her nostrils, making her stomach growl in protest. Ignoring it, she pushed open the cover of the tipi and stepped inside. Making her way toward the silent male who watched her approach him and hand him his food. As she moved toward the rug once more, his hand shot out, grabbing her ankle, stopping her. She turned her head and met his eyes. Again, they stared at each other before he gestured to a place not far from him. She moved and sat down. She looked anywhere but at him as he ate. The next thing she saw was his plate set in front of her. He had left a good portion of his food on it for her. As she looked up all she saw was his back as he once again left her silence. Sara, thankful, hastily ate the food before moving out of the tipi herself to join the women and do whatever they wanted her to do. During the course of her day, Sara endured many curious looks. Some of them were also spiteful and hate filled. She merely kept her head down and worked. That didn’t stop some of the women from finding reasons to hit her. Sara was a captive and therefore, meant to be broken. She refused to be so.

 

[JackHemingway]

For twelve years, Jackson kept journals of his world experiences based on Western Trails, the game. Most of it reads like it was written by a person living in these times, complete with dates, descriptions, maps, and other useful facts. There were entries, though, where he wrote about the old world and shared thoughts on this one and how things worked. There were a few messages to anyone who might understand things, and he even put Sara's email address in there to contact and tell her about him if they ever returned. Part of him hoped this would reflect online but to no avail. Along with dealing with the fact he'd been somehow transported to a living, breathing world of a vast computer game, it was also clear it wasn't following any established timelines in history. Sure, there were trains, western food, and culture, and anyone who'd played the game even a little bit could pick things out, but Jackson thought the game might have spawned its own dimension and timeline.

When he first arrived twelve years ago, he struggled to find a place, but Warren 'Steel' Kelley, a wagon master cowboy and former blacksmith, found him and took a liking to him, turning him from a greenhorn to a seasoned guide. It helped that he seemed to have a brain packed with in-game skills and knowledge, but it was a completely different matter, living it out in real life. Still, he repaired wagon wheels, trained horses, and hunted buffalo. He spent his first two years working the Oregon trail with the man, and the year was 1800 when it began, but the problem was even in the game, never mind history. It wasn't supposed to happen until 1848! By 1808, in this timeline, he'd already had adventures in Mexico, which still had an emperor, but down there, they averaged some revolution every 18 months, and he'd fought in plains wars and the American Civil War. Now, technology topped out in the late cowboy era of the game, but it stood side by side with ideas and events of the past. They were building telegraph lines alongside pony express routes, which never happened. Moreover, he felt the cycle would be repeating itself, and nobody except him seemed to notice these things, but he lived the best he could and did what he could to make a difference.

From the beginning, the game approached things differently to try and be more fair. If you were going down the trail, you wouldn't be constantly attacked by Indians and see party members fall to a tomahawk, but rather, you'd be attacked by bandits and thieves collectively known as "Raiders." Small bands of black hats like you might encounter in a western, and they also robbed your wagon at night, depriving you of supplies. That was a mod Sara had developed for the game where you could have a watch setup if you had three or more wagons in your group. In game terms, it just meant you would keep all your supplies, but in this world, you'd chase off or sometimes kill a thief. He'd expanded on her idea, allowing you to hire Indians to watch your camp, and within a week, she emailed him a file where you could hire gunslingers. It was a great back-and-forth. Now, in this world, you'd never see people in a group of less than three wagons, and they'd have gunslingers, Indian scouts, and probably a trail guide, along with plenty of other things you never saw in the original game. These things connected him with his old life, even if he didn't always want that to happen. Thanks to various mods, Indians could be friendly or hostile; some Indians were raiders, and allies would help you fight off attackers. Unlike in the American West, where culture was destroyed, at least in this reality, coexistence seemed to be working even if it wasn't without conflict.

Like the Frontier Cantina, he was nearing just down the road. It was a product of a world developed by mods and people's dreams of an Old West the way they wanted it to be. Clearly, people wanted more adventures south of the border at some point, so cantinas began cropping up not as often as saloons and run-down watering holes, but they were even this far north. A barn with a repair stable was next door, so wagons could be repaired if an immigrant couldn't make repairs independently. This allowed for another pony express station, which included a clerk's office, a bunk house, and a lookout tower. A small village of Indian teepees and cabins was nearby as they found work as hunting and trail guides. Something unexpected was created thanks to the "sentry mods" he and Sara had created. Gunslingers formed partnerships with Indians for business or, at the very least, traded goods they got paid by settlers. This led to friendships and intermarriage; he knew many mixed families and had several interracial relationships. Another idea of Sara's was also here as a berry orchard. Those on the trail would sometimes find berry bushes to supplement their food supplies, so naturally, having "berry farms" where one could trade for food made sense. So, a small community developed along the trail, making things a little easier for travelers and creating opportunities. With a bar of any kind, some rumors and stories sent people searching for gold in the hills or after an oversized game animal. More times than not, they were true enough, though.

Half a dozen wagons sat across from the small community, which was bustling with activity as settlers did business with the locals, selling everything from food and clothing to surplus items found along the trail. The wagon master had a map on a wagon as he discussed what was ahead with Indian scouts. Mexican waitresses flirted with young men as they offered to sell spirits and food to those who had coins to pay. The blacksmith was coming out to look at one family's wagon, and children were running all over. It seemed he wouldn't be alone when he went to the cantina for lunch and a drink, and the settlers would most likely be around for several days. Little stop-offs like this changed how the trails operated, and people could carry the basics and find what they needed along the way. They still did so at their own peril since they could easily get lost or lose days to weather, but now you could find help more readily if you could work out a deal. Some immigrants would winter some months in these communities if they could, and some even found ones they liked and, rather than going all the way to the coast, settled and found a good life along the trail. Of course, Curtis 'Bushwacker' Butler was there enjoying the fame he'd garnered from the newspapers and gathering information from the newly arrived travelers.

Jackson gave him a wave and rode towards the cantina, and after making sure his horse was taken care of by one of the stable hands, he sat down at one of the outside tables and was promptly brought a bottle of tequila and told what was available for diner. He played an order and reminded himself that this was lunch and supper would be back at the trading post. He cracked up in his journal and made a few notes while he waited for his food to arrive, and soon Bulter strutted over, walking with a shotgun in hand, and tipped his hat to Jackson. "How is ya doing, partner? As you can see, things are running pretty well here, but I appreciate you coming over from the fort to check on us. Mind if I join ya?"

Jack gestured to the other seat, and not surprisingly, the young Mexican woman serving him already had a second plate when she came over, smiling at both men. Jack put away his journal in his satchel and raised his glass to his buddy before drinking. He replied, "Always happy to sit down with an old friend and have a meal. What I want to know and what the colonel really wants to know is what the Indian situation is. Been more raids lately, but they're not just hitting wagon trains but places like this. He's concerned."

Curtis removed his hat, rubbed his dirty hair, and nodded. "I'm wondering as well because this is damn different. I'm seeing raiders, you know, black hats riding with Indians, and I've never seen that before. Now, if he's worried about the allies joining, well, that ain't gonna happen. I've talked to several chiefs, and they don't see any reason to join up, but they can't control all their people. You know this is only gonna get worse as it gets hotter out and more settlers pass through."

"Don't I know it. You know, I really hoped I'd be done fighting wars. Someone's got to protect these people, though."

 

[DarkWarrioress]

As Sara worked outside, tanning a deer hide as the other women had taught her, she worked almost mindlessly. Due to her knowledge of the game she played back home, most of her chores had become easy. She was thankful for at least retaining her knowledge from one world to this one. Her mind still boggled at her current reality, but, until she could figure it out or at least find a way back, she needed to make the best of her current situation. How long had it been since finding herself here in history? Two? Maybe three months now? The women of the village had grudgingly accepted her. Sara kind of thought it might because of the Elder, Shining Star. They had given her a doe-skinned dress to wear and Shining Star braided her hair for her every morning. Just a few days past, Shining Star had given her a pair of soft moccasins to wear. Through gestures and Shining Star’s words, Sara learned that the man, whose tipi she was sleeping in, Gentle Bear, had made them for Sara. The gesture touched Sara deeply. In the past couple of months that they had shared a tipi, Gentle Bear never took advantage of her. She was grateful. Eventually, they even gave her a name. Hiding Turtle. It had taken Sara a bit, but she recognized their language, again, thanks to the game she had played religiously. However, Sara never let on that she understood them. Let them be amazed that she could weave a tight basket or identify plants and herbs the women went out to search for most mornings. Sara was careful to make mistakes here and there. She didn’t want any of them to catch on that she knew more than she should have. However, now and then, she felt as if she was been watched and when she looked around, she’d find the dark eyes of Gentle Bear studiously watching her. When their eyes met, the look in his changed to an unspoken question and she quickly averted her eyes, her cheeks growing warm.

That night, while they sat together, eating, she felt Gentle Bear’s eyes on her. She regarded him curiously. He gestured to her feet, saying something and without thinking, she answered him flawlessly in his own language. Her eyes went wide when she realized what she had done.

“How long have you known of what I speak?” He asked her.

She nibbled on her inner cheek before answering.

“For a few moons,” she replied.

The tipi grew silent except for the small fire that always burned inside. Then came a deep, rich sound. It took her by surprise. It was Gentle Bear chuckling. The Sioux were always so serious so this surprised her.

“Do the other women know?”

She merely shook her head.

“Come here, Hiding Turtle.”

She hesitated a moment then went to sit beside him.

“Why do you call me Hiding Turtle?” She asked curiously.

“You are always hiding in here when not doing woman’s work.”

His arm snaked out and pulled her into his lap. The sudden, unexpected action caused her to squeal, which in turn, made him laugh.

“We should call you ‘Squeaky Deer’.”

That made her blush and turn her face into his shoulder. After a moment, she felt his fingers in her hair, unraveling her braid and raking his fingers through her hair. They found their way under her chin, forcing her face to turn up to his and their eyes to meet and hold. Time seemed to come to a standstill. His face lowered to hers until she felt his lips, remarkably soft, touch her own, claiming them in a kiss. It was a kiss that seemed to go on forever, stealing her breath. Her heart started to thump against his chest, especially when his lips left hers and found her neck. Her hands clutched at his shoulders. The tipi held a rosy glow as Gentle Bear placed her on his furs and rose above her. His actions were unhurried as his hands found the ties on his leggings, releasing them. Stepping free of them, they went to his loin cloth next. His eyes never left her face. Her eyes never left his. When he stood before her in all his glory, she swallowed. Her eyes went from his face, traveling slowly down his neck to his muscled chest, his flat belly and finally to his erect manhood. He wanted her that was clear enough. Without words, he came down beside her, gently removing her doeskin dress, exposing her undergarments. His fingers nimbly undid her chemise, pushing it from her shoulders and down, exposing her breasts to his heating gaze. The thin garment found its way to the floor quickly followed by her pantalets. As she lay there, naked and slightly shivering, although she didn’t know if it was because she was cold or from growing ardor. His fingertips trailed along her body, making her arch up and her nipples to pucker into hard buds. His mouth lowered, taking one of the erect nipples into his mouth, tonguing and sucking gently. A low muffled sound erupted from her throat as the palm of her hand curved around the back of his head, holding him there. His mouth shifted to her other nipple and applied the same, making her fingertips dig into his scalp. His fingertips slowly slid down over her hip, trailing wanton fire across her flat belly and into the dark brown curls that lay at the juncture of her thighs. His mouth left her breast to claim her lips once more as his hand slipped through her curls to the wet folds beneath them. Parting her feminine lips with a bold finger, he slipped it inside her, gauging her readiness to accept him. He slipped between her thighs, which she parted willingly for him, guiding himself into her waiting heat. Pushing into her, he heard and felt her desperate cry against his shoulder.

 

[JackHemingway]

Those who made up the Sioux camp of Chief Wanikiya began their day with ritual and routine as their guests, the members of the mounted infantry company the Frontier Dragoons, led by Captain Eric Hailey and his trusted civilian advisor Jackson Graham. The papers and other publications would exaggerate Jackson's role in the conflict, but he'd done plenty. History would record that this small war in the Pacific Northwest along the trail many settlers used wasn't an Indian rebellion, insurrection, or even an invasion, but rather an aggressive guerilla campaign comprised of an assorted group of enemies. In simplistic game terms, immigrants had to watch out for raiders who stole and attacked settlers, renegades could either be Indians or former Confederate soldiers, and there were a variety of other bandits and outlaws modders had created. What was different and disturbing was in this spring campaign, all those groups were united in their fight and had even hired mercenaries and were striking all over the frontier. They raided farms, robbed banks, and attacked forts, causing much trouble. Fortunately, most settlers remained loyal, and Indian tribes held to their alliances. The fact that the Frontier Dragoons were welcome in a Sioux camp was evidence that settlers brought goods to sell to the soldiers, and the Sioux did so, including providing guides.

When the call went out months ago to form a frontier army to deal with this new enemy, Jackson was instrumental in organizing the 7th Frontier Rangers Regiment. While it wasn't supposed to be cavalry, Jackson knew they needed to be mounted to protect settlers, explore territories, and maintain order, so he used every hack and trick to recruit a unit quickly. He also knew there were over a dozen encounters someone might have with former or current soldiers, and he used every one of them to recruit. Couple this with units you'd meet on the trail that weren't tied to any large elements randomly created in the game, and he'd raise a fighting force much quicker than standard. Rather than the traditional uniform, every trooper wore a buckskin jacket and cowboy hat and carried a tomahawk and saber. They soon mobilized and protected settlers, escorting supply trains and conducting reconnaissance missions. The Frontier Dragoons quickly gained a reputation for their bravery and effectiveness against the new enemy.

Soon, he had twelve hundred men and women under his command. Yes, thanks to Sara and other women, there were female soldiers, and while they only made up less than a third of the unit, they were good fighters. One was Wenonah, the child of a buffalo hunter and Sioux mother. The dark-haired angel had been a pony express rider who'd ridden like a demon just delivering the mail, but in wartime, she'd shown crack shot with both a pistol and a rifle. She regularly brought back game meat for the cooking pot and had caught the eye of Jackson Graham, who happily kept company with her in his tent on the cold nights—the first few months of spring had been busy with the unit moving all over, responding and chasing the enemy. He also had to help other leaders organize their units, help settlers raise their militias, and get politicians to stockpile supplies and build more forts while being diplomatic with the Native tribes. Right now, though, none of that was on his mind, and all was right with the world as he looked up at the beautiful Wenonah naked but for the feathers in her hair riding his cock in the dim light of his tent.

Wenonah vigorously bounced up and down with her beautiful mane of dark hair flying in the air as she moaned loudly, raking her fingers over his bare chest and smiling down at him. His cock almost slipped out of her warm wet vagina only to have her slam down on his cock, making wet slouching sounds that always sounded naughty no matter how natural their live making might be. They'd been wrapped up under bear skins and blankets when she awoke first, and letting him own his morning harness was appreciated and an invitation to foreplay. Her skin was smooth and warm, and despite being on the trail, she still smelled of wildflowers. She'd cried and squirmed when he used his tongue on her slit and rubbed her clit until she'd made a puddle on the blankets and screamed into a pillow. They'd rolled around and played as they touched, kissed, and caressed all over before she wanted to have a go at being on top. Resting her hands on his shoulders as her breasts heaved, he slid his hands up her hips as he bucked hers to meet her motion, and he squeezed her lovely breasts. Eventually, it all led to the high-pitched moans that he'd become familiar with in the last month as she approached orgasm.

Finally shaking and moaning as her feelings overwhelmed her, and she let go as she exploded in pleasure, and he soon followed as his cock shot off inside of her in the wake of his own orgasm. After a lot of panting from both of them, she slid off of his slick cock and leaned in, and kissed him hard on the lips. Wenonah lay next to him, draped her leg and arm over him, and kissed the side of his face. She also stretched out and caressed his side and chest and let out a concerned sigh. Which made him ask, "What's wrong, honey? That was wonderful."

"Nothing, Jackon. Last night and this morning were blissful. I just realized how many scares you have. Bullets, blades..."

"And don't forget the pitchfork, honey. I certainly didn't," he interrupted and turned to face her. "You spend the better part of twelve years on the frontier. It's part of life, and I'm glad I have them. They mean I'm still alive."

"You're a warrior and a wise man, my grandmother said, and she's a wise woman. She likes that you speak our language and you care about your people and ours."

"What about you? What do you think about me?"

"You, you're a good man, and you make me tingle and feel safe at night. We're in a Warband together. We'll always have a bond."

They exchanged more pleasantries, and he noticed her taking the one herb that prevented pregnancy with her morning coffee when she joined the others around the campfire for breakfast. It was a sensible approach, and he was glad she took it. His life was complicated enough, and his past included love and children in this realm, but well, that had brought pain, and this was not the time to start a family. All those times playing the game, people died, children didn't survive, and many other trades were just part of playing, and death was even acceptable if you managed to win the scenario. Dealing with it here was a completely different matter, though. The pain was real, but you also enjoyed the good things a little more.

 

[DarkWarrioress]

Spring led into Summer and Summer was slowly slipping into Fall. It was a slow infusion, but it didn’t fool the women of the tribe. They paid attention to the signs. Sara sat sewing a new pair of moccasins for Gentle Bear. Hides had been stripped and tanned, stretched out in the sun to dry. Herbs and medicinal plants were constantly being collected, dried and stored. Fish, deer and bison meat were cleaned and hung to dry. There were fresh furs resting on the bed she shared with Gentle Bear.

That night, in the soft firelight, while they lay in bed together, Sara told him her news. At first he was so quiet she wasn’t sure if he was pleased. He swooped her up into his arms, placing on top of him.

“When will the child come?”

Sara smiled, “Not until the new Spring. Then you are pleased?”

“More than pleased.”

Then he proceeded to show her how pleased. In the aftermath, they lay side by side, his hand lightly resting on the small swell of her stomach protectively. Sara thought she couldn’t be happier. The next morning, she told the women of the tribe she had come to accept as family. Most of them took it well, one or two did not. Sara didn’t let that mar her happiness.

The days grew colder and Sara spent more time in the tipi than outside. It wasn’t long before the snows came, blanketing everything in white. One day, in the depth of January, she thought, it was hard to be sure as Winter was hard to gauge. However, Shining Star kept moonsticks and she claimed it was what Sara knew as January. On that day in January, Sara had stepped outside for a breath of air. She would not stay out long, just long enough to check on Shining Star and return. Wrapped in a fur, she trudged to Shining Star’s tipi and called out. She was bid to come in and slipped inside the warmth of the Elder’s home. Shining Star was surprised to see her, but Sara explained. The two of them had a fine visit. Sara had just stepped outside of Shining Star’s tipi and begun the trek back home when she doubled over in pain. She cried out and looked down to the snow below her feet to find it darkened with crimson. Her own blood was running down her leg to stain the pristine snow. She fell to her knees wailing. Shining Star came to her aid, coaxing her to stand and come back to her tipi. Pain washed over Sara like nothing she had ever experienced before. Shining Star sent one of the other women to fetch a brave and send them after Gentle Bear. When Sara next opened her eyes, he was there, beside her. His eyes filled with sorrow and worry. It was then Sara knew. She had lost their baby and tears silently fell from her eyes, coursing down her cheeks unchecked. Gentle Bear assured her that all would be as it should and they could have other children. For the moment, Sara tried to find solace in that, but it hardly took away the pain she felt.

 

[JackHemingway]

Another year, another war, and another journal with every page filled with information and notes about Jackson Graham's experiences on the frontier of this version of America in another plain of reality. This year, he was back at the bustling little outpost based around the Frontier Catina. It had over a hundred full-time residents who did business with travelers making their way along the trail, selling supplies and making repairs to wagons. Those wintering in the town and nearby increased the population five times, never mind Fort Audacity, which he helped design, was garrisoned. The Pony Express was handling the mail routes in this part of the frontier, and the catina was practically opened twenty-four hours a day, now supplying folks with drinks and hot meals. He often went at least once daily and connected with an old friend over a drink or chili the house special. Tonight, he'd enjoyed steak and eggs with a side of cornbread and a few whiskeys while he and the rest of the crowd watched Marta Curbelo, one of the waitresses, sing and dance on her night off. She kicked up her heels to the guitar music and got many cheers and some coins thrown her way. She was the stuff of cowboy dreams, but he'd headed home tonight.

He walked down the snowy street cleared earlier towards his home on one of the half-dozen streets that made up the outpost. The most popular home was what was called a Minor's Cottage, which was designed by a modder with prospectors in mind. It was a small but hardy structure with only a few rooms, but with a large workshop and storage area, it was perfect for prospectors and other frontier adventurers who made a claim. He'd added a small corral and a barn for his four horses. Jackson had sold a lot off in the past year because he'd been so busy fighting, and others needed it all. A settler was always having a tough time, and everything from furnishings to food was warmly embraced. He made many friends that way, and since he'd struggled so much initially, he knew how much generosity meant. Right now, he'd let Wenonah talk him into allowing her and her "fiance," Corx Bradshaw, to build a second floor onto the workshop and storage area behind his cottage. He'd let them live there with a chance to buy the house and, in the meantime, pay rent by caring for the horses and taking care of the property. Jackson figured if he sold it to them, he'd do it cheaply if they wouldn't let him give them the property outright.

This had all started at the end of summer when, after fighting the Battle of the Uinta Mountains, he was called by the United States military to head to San Francisco to meet with leaders of a new expeditionary force and lecture about his book Defensive Positions: Earthworks, Chevaux de Frise and Gabionades. Jackson had written it to aid officers and militiamen on the frontier about how to build small forts and defenses, but quite a few settlers and even natives read it as well. In his mind, it was a collection of mods and ideas people had shared on the Western Trail's forums, including Sara's fortified saloon, where the building was surrounded by sandbags, and the bartenders and working girls were armed. The battle was exaggerated by many in the press, but they'd routed well over fifteen hundred of the new kind of raiders, killing and capturing many. They weren't closer to finding out who organized these raids, but they'd inflicted some damage. He took several trophies, including a Confederate battle flag, and was set to return to the Frontier Catina area, where he'd already purchased the property when he received word to head to San Fransico. Wenonah, a frontier girl born and bred, would have none of city life, and they ended their relationship, but she happily took on the role of caretaker to his property and rejoined the Pony Express. So, while he lived the life of frontiersmen in the big city dining with politicians and officers, Wenonah lived in the saddle and drank whiskey in the cantina. One Sunday morning, though, her world would change.

Sunday was Wenonah's only day off, so she was enraged when she heard banging at the front door early that morning. She'd worked all week, and Saturday was a long day when she bagged a buffalo and had to skin and butcher it and get it back to town by herself and didn't fall asleep until late. So she didn't appreciate being woken up and grabbed a pistol and was barefoot and only wrapped in a blanket. She yanked open the door and saw Corx Bradshawn performing his Mormon missionary work there. Wenonah would later tell Jackson several times over drinks that something about his smile and kind soul made her invite him to coffee. The boy didn't leave for two days, during which they talked for hours, and they made love many times, and "Brad" proposed to her several times. Wenonah drove him crazy as she kept saying she'd think it over, but by fall, he'd not returned to Utah; she was pregnant, and they still weren't married. Now, going by Brad, he found work as a carpenter and felt he couldn't go back to his family, so they settled in, and when Jackson finally returned in November, he heard the whole story. He wasn't sure if he appreciated Wenonah describing him as a father figure and teacher, but he wouldn't ruin things for the boy if the girl wanted a fresh start. They set up a house on his small patch of land, Wenonah switched to being a clerk at the Pony Express office, and Brad began making baby furniture. Having young people in the house was good, making the holidays even more joyous.

While the lamp at the gate was still going when he got home, there was no light coming from their part of the home, so he headed inside and soon started a fire again in the fireplace. The "family dog" Sioux dog mutt Kylie padded over to him and greeted him with her usual enthusiasm. He played with her before going through the items on the table. He made some notes in his new journal, went through the correspondence he'd received in a bundle, and took time out to read the letter from Francisca Hicks, a British socialite who'd been visiting San Fransico with her father during his visit. Her family made hunting rifles and various outdoorsmen gear, and he enjoyed spending time with her and her father. Away from her father, Franny enjoyed cigarettes, shooting, and whiskey, wanted to know all about the American frontier, and was an avid reader of dime novels. Also, while she was engaged to a Canadian businessman ten years her senior, she was also a wonderful companion behind closed doors. She was happy to walk around his suite at the Amistad Hotel naked but for his cowboy hat as she listened to his stories. She also bought him several horses and other western gear and gifted one of his decorated buffalo guns to her father. Eventually, after many pleasurable nights attending the theater and restaurants, they parted ways, and he returned to the trails. Her letter was filled with well wishes, gossip, and a sketch of her nude on a loveseat painted by a French artist—typical mail from this type of friend. Jackson scanned through the rest of the mail and ordered what needed to be responded to before he poured two glasses of whiskey and lifted one.

With his trusted dog sitting under the table, he raised his glass. "Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and Happy Birthday, Sara, in whatever order you wish to enjoy them. I miss you, my friend, but I always have good feelings for you, my love. I don't hate this life, but when I do, it is because it deprived me of you."

 

[DarkWarrioress]

Sara lay buried in the furs on their bed, watching the small flames of their fire dance about. Gentle Bear had gone off with a hunting party. The chances were slim that they would come back with something, but a person always hoped. Thanks to women of the village, herself included, they had preserved enough meat to hold the village for a while. Root vegetables had been tucked away from the sun and put in a cool place. Fish had been dried and stacked. Herbs hung in the Medicine Man’s tipi, medicinal and otherwise, both.

Sara’s acceptance of her loss had come slowly but by the first snowfall, she was back to her old self. Now and then, however, her heart hurt her as she briefly thought of what could have been. Gentle Bear had been extremely patient with her. Eventually though, they resumed their sexual relationship. Another year was passing. Sara was still no closer to understanding, let alone finding a way back to her old life. That was another thing she had to come to terms about, she was here to stay.

As the new year rolled in, many of the tribe took ill. Sara was kept busy helping Shining Star attend to those who needed them. When Gentle Bear succumbed to being ill himself, Sara thought her heart would fail her. Diligently, she nursed him, day and night. She made sure he ate even when she had to coax him too. Cold compresses to switched out often on his forehead when his fever topped dangerously. In those days, Sara rarely slept. If she wasn’t looking after Gentle Bear, she was needed elsewhere in their village. Rolling up in a thick fur, she went from tipi to tipi, to do what she could to help ease the ill. There were some that could not be helped and they had passed on. Those that died where given a proper burial. Their bodies were painted red, dressed, wrapped in thick buffalo robe and taken to the sacred burial grounds and laid up on raised platforms. Sara, herself, took every precaution she could to keep herself from getting sick. Slowly, Gentle Bear recovered and Sara’s heart knew joy again. Her joy was short lived and worry set in as Shining Star became ill. The women all took turns nursing the sick Elder.

No matter what they did, Shining Star was not improving and eventually joined her deceased Elders. There was much wailing in the tribe that day. Sara felt fortunate that she was the one with Shining Star on that fateful morning. The elderly woman gently patted Sara’s hand and prepared her for what was to come. Shining Star was ready. She had grown frail and tired. It was all part of the cycle of life. Sara clung to the woman’s hand and silently wept. Shining Star reached out and wiped Sara’s tears away, telling her not to weep for her. She had led a good life and now, it was time to go. Sometime in the later morning, Shining Star did just that, she slipped away from the mortal world to join her ancestors.

Gently, Gentle Bear carried Shining Star’s body, wrapped in a thick buffalo robe, to a platform and placed there. Like all the others who had passed, food had been placed by their heads inside their robes. Through Gentle Bear, Sara learned that the bodies would stay up there on their platforms for a year, after that, they would be taken down and buried in the ground. Their people believed that the soul must be kept and released in the proper fashion after death. Rituals had been followed to insure the smooth passage of the soul’s journey to the afterlife.

The rest of the winter passed slowly for Sara. She was thankful for Gentle Bear. She missed Shining Star dearly as did the other women of the village. However, they kept each other company and that helped the winter season to pass. Once again, Spring came to their village. Like always, the season slipped in and with it, came many things to be done. Among the women, Little Deer slipped into the role left by Shining Star. None challenged it. Once again, the men headed out on hunting parties to being back fresh meat to be enjoyed. The fresh game was enjoyed and welcomed by all. There was excited chatter going about the village. When Sara quizzed Gentle Bear, he took her into their tipi and gentle pulled her into an embrace. Now Sara was becoming concerned and said as much. It was then he informed her of his intentions. He wished to make Sara his wife. She looked astonished by the declaration but smiled happily.

The village hummed with the news and everyone began planning for the wedding. Sara felt a bit overwhelmed by it all but managed to work her way through it. Her only regret was that Shining Star was not there to see this. She told Gentle Bear as much. He assured her that Shining Star’s spirit would be with them on that momentous day.

 

[JackHemingway]

PART I

It was a warm Spring that year, and life was bustling again around the Frontier Catanina outpost. Some events affected you no matter who you were; Jackson Graham was in the middle of it all. As he penned it down in his journal, he made it clear that there was no importance to the order of the items because they all meant something. With the influx of new people and the desire to add a telegraph post to the Pony Express station and bank, post office, and general store, many citizens were talking about making the outpost an official town along the Oregon Trail, not just some small stopover. Having been part of the founding of other communities over the years, the locals asked Jackson to attend weekly meetings at the Catalina and sit on the board. He was also asked to be a partner in several of the above ventures, which he was considering, but he had plenty of other concerns, which included the military's plans to seek out what remained of the United Raiders. While he had talked to the local commanding general and the marshal, and they reported all the typical attacks and raids, there were other more worrisome attacks. Supply posts had been ransacked, and military weapons, including cannons, were taken. Tribes and settlers reported women and children being abducted, and the San Fransico police even reported Raider activity in the city, which rarely happened. He'd have to be heading back there soon, a pity since Francisca Hicks was in Canada and, according to the papers, "happily married." She remembered him fondly, though, and not long after the holidays, he received a pair of gold inlaid pistols with ivory handles. They were beautiful and expensive but deadly accurate. He had a photo taken of him wearing them in a suit and tie. He sent it to her with a package containing a cowboy hat in her favorite colors. If local development and potential threats to the region in an already dangerous frontier weren't enough, Jackson's home life was also hectic.

With the warmer weather, they all welcomed Jayne Kaydee Bradshawn Wenonah's and Corx's love child, though by then, they were married in a simple Sioux ceremony in the Catanina on Sunday with a visiting justice of the peace assisting. While many of Wenonah's families on both sides made the trip out to see the wedding, only a few Bradshawns made the trip from Utah and weren't too pleased to see Wenonah in a traditional buckskin dress and headdress walking barefoot with her very prominent baby bump showing carrying wildflowers. A number of the Pony Express riders were very rowdy in the celebration, and perhaps making tequila available before the service was a mistake, but they were there to celebrate their friend and one of the best riders in the company. Corx now went by Brad thanks to his wife, and his carpentry business seemed to take off, with him setting up shop on Jackson's property and once again promising to pay him back. The kid worked hard and knew almost completely how to build a minor's cottage by visualizing it. Many nights after dinner, he sat with Jackson, learning from all the structures he knew how to build from years of playing the game. He couldn't explain that to the kid, but he was happy with him thinking he was an engineering genius. With prospectors finding some deposits and panning for gold, he was busy with work well into the summer and beyond. Around the same time as little Jayne was born, Kylie, our family dog, gave birth to a litter of puppies, which the family believes is thanks to her being friendly with a stray wolf who wandered through town at night. Wenonah took it as a good omen and was overjoyed when the wolf became a regular visitor. When some local boys began throwing rocks at the patient wolf who was waiting by the fence, Wenonah confronted them with a rifle and told them to leave her dog's boyfriend alone. Still, he was in no hurry to kick them out of the house, and Brad's family surprisingly had a strange benefit.

The Bradshawn clan might have been no different than most others in how they made their living on the frontier, but they were snobs nonetheless. They didn't drink and were so pious they annoyed the pastor, who spread tolerance in the community. They didn't "approve" of Indians. After the ceremony, Jackson was happy to send them packing and told them he'd ensure the kids were fine. That wasn't the case with brother and sister Kayleb and Caraleen Bradshawn, cousins of Corx. They had both lost their respected spouses to illness and traveled to help those in need as part of their missionary work. Helping more than preaching, really. Kayleb was a trained doctor, and Caraleen was his nurse, but he was also a skilled school teacher. Polite and modest people, they actually asked if there was room in the barn for them when they came for the ceremony. Such nice people Jackson wouldn't hear of it, and he took a room with a family that took in borders, and they stayed in his house. They eventually moved out, taking positions at the fort as doctors and teachers of the children of the soldiers. When the weather improved, Kayleb insisted on heading out and offering his services to the tribes. Caraleen remained in town and continued to teach. She was popular with the local children and hosted story time, where she read from various books in the warm spring weather when chores were done. Parents who had to take care of business in the now-growing "downtown" were happy to leave their children for a little while. It seemed Caraleen organically started daycare.

 

[JackHemingway]

PART II

For extra money, Caraleen worked as his cook and housekeeper when she was available, and it really did start innocently enough. She liked being close to the young people; she could keep her horse in his barn, and they got along. They'd both experienced loss; she was happy to go through his full bookshelves and was a voracious reader. She didn't care what the topic was, and a few days later, they'd meet to have tea and talk about the book and then select another. They'd also shared a few whiskeys, and he taught her how to hunt and shoot, though she had more experience than she let on. While it might have been scandalous back home, he bought Caraleen her first pair of jeans she loved and wore regularly. The bonnet and long dresses weren't for her, and she looked more like her frontier peers daily. For supper, he insisted that she stay even when their young neighbors didn't join them who, not surprisingly, by summer, were pregnant again. Wenonah was almost embarrassed but confessed they had a lot of fun, and she loved children. "Auntie Cara" was to blame since she was happy to watch baby Jayne at least once a week, which Caraleen thought was hilarious and a wonderful outcome. After one of those meals, it began thundering and lighting, so after Brad and Wenonah ran home with the baby, Cara, as she liked being called, stayed to have a few whiskeys and read a book as she waited for it to stop. It was late when it still hadn't stopped, so they talked for a while, but by midnight, Jackson had suggested she sleep in the now completed guest room. She thanked him and said she would but didn't want to be alone. That night, Cara cast fear and modesty aside and welcomed Jackson into bed with her, and he embraced all the love and caring the woman could give that night. He'd awakened a side of her that she thought had died with her husband. She wept from joy from experiencing orgasms with him. They held each other all night.

Jackson had to be out early the next morning to meet with a rancher who wanted to open a store in town, but only if there was to be a real town, and of course, he had to be the representative of the town fathers. He hadn't expected to fall in love with his housekeeper, but Cara helped him dress and lovingly kissed him before returning to bed. She woke up a little while later, put the house in order, fed Kylie and the two remaining pups they decided to keep, and looked at the clock. Jackson would be returning soon, so she began putting breakfast together and would keep it hot on the stove. While cooking the eggs, Wenonah walked in with fresh milk and began giggling as she saw Auntie Cara only wearing one of Jackson's shirts. She blushed and laughed, and the two women talked. When Jackson came home, she was dressed and standing by the stove. She smiled and said, "Breakfast is ready, and the kids know I'm not the housekeeper anymore. You want to tell my brother, or do I get to?"

Within the month, Cara moved in and continued to teach school. She was happy to tell the women of the community she was engaged in that keeping separate lodgings wasn't practical. It might not have been the strongest reasoning, but both were well-liked in the community. When Cara did story hour, the prostitutes' children sat next to the banker's children, and all were treated with love and respect. While Jackson had relationships before and had one marriage since coming to Western Trails, he'd hesitated to enter such a union again. In the game, your character might marry and remarry several times thanks to the perils of the frontier, but here, these people were real, and emotions came with the deaths, which were in no short supply in the community. Funerals were regularly held, and mixed families were normal. Cara was a wonderful companion, though, and she enhanced his life. They made plans to build a ranch and make things more permanent in the community. They'd be giving the town property to Wenonah and Brad, but they would wait to tell them that. Eventually, by fall, Dr. Kayleb, as he was known by many on the trails, returned for a well-deserved rest after months of tending to immigrants on the trails and native communities. He'd left with three horses and now was returning with a wagon full of goods.

Jackson met with Kayleb when he arrived near the fort and escorted him to town. After setting up a meeting for the next day with several businessmen to buy his goods and tell him about the house Brad had built for him so he could have a practice in town, they sat down at the Catina for lunch. He updated Kayleb on everything, but he left the most important information for last, and while he was concerned, he was overjoyed once he knew his sister was in good and loving hands. Surprisingly, he celebrated with a drink during lunch while listening to all the details. The frontier doctor had many of his own stories to tell and even took notes for several books and articles he planned to pen now that he was back in civilization and free to put it all together. Among the stories he told Jackson was about one tribe of Siuox, which had many settler women living among them. It wasn't too surprising, for many tribes, that becoming part of their extended family was more about character and living by their customs than it was about ethnicity. He didn't get to talk too much to the women, but from what he saw, they were treated well and in loving relationships. He'd learned much about herbal medicine from an older woman, Shining Star, who communicated through her "white daughter," Little Deer. He said both women were very intelligent and wished he could do more for their tribe, which, like other settlements, was dealing with illness. He learned so much that he gave Little Deer an empty journal to write down all the knowledge and one of his medical books. When he left, bad weather made him lose his way. After wandering for a few days, he ran into a small group of settlers who had guides who could point him in the right direction, and after some trading, he was on his way back to South Pass, which had become the name of the town in his absence.

As Jackson wrote it down in his journal that night, he didn't think much of Kayleb's experience other than glad he'd met some good people and could help. Kayleb was actually the guest of the local doctor who had taken up residence in South Pass. Interestingly, there was no rivalry, and he was happy to have a peer to share the work with and discuss all things medicine. He'd invited him to supper and offered him a bed for the night so Jackson could spend time with his fiance. Cara had dosed off with a book in her hands on the couch like most evenings after a busy work day, but he surprised her happily as he carried her into the bedroom. She kissed him and mentioned something about finishing the book later.

 

[DarkWarrioress]

A white man named Kayleb, Dr. Kayleb, came around to the village. The villagers seemed to know of him and welcomed him. Sara watched from the shadows of the tipis as the man spoke with her people and she did consider them her people. Her eyes followed him as he moved through the crowd around him and stopped in front of their Medicine Man, Eagle’s Fury, reaching inside his pocket to withdraw a small pouch and extending it to Eagle’s Fury. Tobacco. They turned and walked off to Eagle Fury’s tipi. The villagers dispersed. Sara walked back to her tipi, stopping to flip back the front covering before stepping inside. She sat down by the fire and picked up her sewing continuing the work she had started.

Much later, after the white doctor left, Little Deer came to their tipi. She held two books in her hand. Sara watched her with curious eyes. Little Deer handed Sara the empty book first. She didn’t understand what it was for as it was empty. Sara held out her hand and took the book, examining it. The man known as Dr. Kayleb had given Little Deer an empty journal. Sara explained that the empty book was to write down things she knew and learned in it. The second book was a book about medicine. Therein lay the problem. Little Deer, could neither read or write. She gifted both to Sara, saying that perhaps she would find more use for them than she herself, Little Deer, could. Sara accepted the gifts with a hug for Little Deer. Sara tucked the books under her pillow and forgot about them as she had so much to do before the wedding.

​

Gentle Bear’s and Sara’s wedding day came on swift feet or so it seemed. The whole village turned out. The women had been cooking for a couple of days. Their village Elders officiated the wedding ceremony. Gentle Bear and Hiding Turtle had eyes only for each other that day. It was official in the eyes of the Sioux, Gentle Bear and Hiding Turtle were married. After the ceremony, there was much dancing and celebrating. If someone had asked Sara if she was happy she would have easily replied that she was, more than she could have imagined. The only darkness on that was the sorrow of missing Shining Star and their child. However, remaining sad on such an occasion was impossible as they ate, danced and celebrated. That night, when the tribe retired for the evening, Gentle Bear led Sara into their tipi, laid her tenderly down in the furs of their marriage bed and made love to her so sweetly that Sara wept in joy, clinging to Gentle Bear.

Over the next few days, Sara walked on air. On one warm and sunny day, she was down at the stream washing their clothes. A pain exploded in her head and darkness enveloped her. Sara woke to find herself on the outskirts of a settlement. She woke to her head hurting and a quick feel to the back of her head found a rather large bump there. What had happened? Where was she? Sitting up dazed, she looked around. She blinked, not knowing where she was or what had happened to her. A couple of old men came upon her.

“Wha’ do ya think, Henry?

“Imma thinkin’ this here sqaw was dumped here by someone.”

“Should we be helpin’ her, do ya think?”

“Helpin’ her? I think we should take her back to camp. It’s been a long time since I had a woman.”

The man called Henry stood over her and was lewdly rubbing his crotch.

“Now Henry, the woman’s hurt.”

“Frank, that ain’t no woman, that’s a sqaw. Can’t ya tell by her dress?”

“Henry, that don’ mean much. Look at her. She don’ look like any sqaw I ever saw before. Come on, help me get her up.”

They bent over and lifted Sara up to stand on her feet.

“Can ya stand, woman?” The man called Henry asked gruffly.

With the men’s help, Sara got slowly to her feet, wobbling a little.

“Pay no mind to Henry there, Miss. We will take you back to our camp for the night, then we’ll see about taking you to town tomorrow.”

They got Sara loaded into their wagon and headed back to their camp. Sara was groggy and a headache was setting in by the time they rolled up to men’s camp. The wagon’s jostling did not help.

“Henry, you see to the mules. I’ll see to this young lady.”

Henry grumbled something but went to see to their livestock. He led the mules away to rub them down and feed them. In the meantime, Frank helped Sara from the back of the wagon and led her slowly into their cabin. He sat her down in a rough wooden chair by the fire.

“Do you have a name?”

He asked her as he knelt in front of the fireplace and started some coffee.

“Hid---Sara. My name is Sara.”

She had almost slipped up and told him her Sioux name and thought better of it, at least until she could figure out what had happened and where she was.

“Sara. Purty name. I had a granddaughter once named Sarah.”

Sara winced and felt the back of her head.

“Once?” She asked gently.

Frank’s hands stilled momentarily as he stared into the fire.

“Indians. Scouts found her family’s wagon. My daughter, her husband and their four children, Dead. Never did find little Sarah’s body.”

Silence filled the cabin with only the sound of Frank tossing more wood on the low embers of the fire.

“I am so sorry, Frank. I did get that right, it’s Frank?”

“Yes’m. Imma Frank.”

The door burst open and Henry stomped in.

“How is that woman---”

He stopped short seeing Sara sitting there. He grumbled something under his breath.

“Don’t mind him none.”

 

[JackHemingway]

Two arrows flew swiftly to the large round-painted target fifteen yards away. They smacked into the heavy oak boards two thuds in a row near the center of the target, to which Caraleen let out a war whoop and then a laugh as Jackson, standing next to her, began clapping. He glanced over at his fiance, who was clad in a mix of traditional frontier attire. She wore a gorge-leather cowboy hat with a brightly colored poncho that all cowboys from Mexico had introduced, and she was sporting a gun belt and jeans that hugged her lovely country girl frame and brown moccasin-style boots that went up just below her knees. Most of the items were given to her to help teach so many of the community's children. Most children went to school, but parents who couldn't spare them from work or were too far from town still got lessons thanks to the "Story Lady." She even visited some of the Sioux and other tribes and was making an effort to learn and record their stories. She'd even struck up a friendship with Amelia on one of their trips to Fort Bridger. The reason they were out practicing was because of these cultural exchanges.

Caraleen giggled and looked down and over at him and smiled and said, "I told you I was getting better, and are you checking out my butt Mr. Graham."

He shook his head, drew back his bow, fired one shot dead center of the target fifteen yards away, and then turned back and smiled. "I know, and yes, you look good in those new jeans."

"What can I say? Yanaba is a good teacher. Her father was a cowboy in a Navajo-owned cattle company, but he taught all his children the traditional ways."

"How did she end up with Elijah Brown? He works at the bank." One of three now in the small town thanks to the settlers, the gold, and all the entrepreneurs.

"Well, he does now, but he kept books for the tribe, and they made him a member because they said he was smart and honorable so he could marry Yanaba. He traveled, working at different general stores and banks until he found a permanent position here. They adopted those two adorable German immigrant children who survived that wagon train slaughter. I saw them the other day pushing the pram she was singing to them in Navajo. I don't know what she said, but it sounded pretty. Please tell me, darling, you're gonna find the bastards who did that."

Jackson nodded before he notched another arrow and fired, hitting almost dead center again, and then put down the bow and slid it into the quiver. "We can practice with the tomahawks now, darling. I think you'll do fine at the festival with the bow, but you know the tribe's women have a special pride in their favorite events, and yes, we will, honey. We're trying."

The couple put their bows and arrows in the back of their wagon and took out half a dozen tomahawks. Each walked closer to the target and began taking turns throwing at the round target. It was just before fall and not far from South Pass when the militia patrol discovered a grizzly scene where four German immigrant families had been slaughtered. You didn't need a good scout to find the scene, either. Whoever had committed the crimes set the one remaining wagon on fire and took all the oxen and the three other wagons after throwing out anything they didn't want on the ground. They'd also killed fifteen members of the party, leaving the two youngest to cry and scream. Scared, dirty, and hungry, the whole town came to visit and leave items at Dr. Kayleb's office, and any number of people wanted to adopt the beautiful toddlers, but Elijah knew German and Yanaba fell in love with the little blond children who hair like her husband's. The thieves had also taken three women, but they later realized and found their clothes not far away, and there were no other traces because rain had washed away the group's tracks.

While death on the frontier was common, it was no less disturbing, and in the years he'd been here, raids were normal, and thievery was a random thing that happened to all travelers, but this was exceptionally brutal. Those looking into the matter were hard-pressed to discover the reasons why. Eventually, Jackson and others tracked down another German immigrant working as a blacksmith for a cattle company in the area and were happy to aid in the search. He'd conversed with the party in his native tongue, and they explained that they were taking their time on the trail and were actually looking for a good place to set up a farm with a well so they could build a frontier store near the trail. That gave them the only clue about why they might have been targeted. Three of the wagons were filled to capacity items you'd commonly find in a frontier store, including plenty of extra ammunition and food. Why the thieves felt the need to kill almost everyone present just spoke of how despicable the killers were. After that, Jackson had no problem finding more recruits for additional units and, with the army, began patrolling up and down the trail. It had disturbed Cara enough that she stopped riding out to tribal lands or the trail alone, and while she knew how to use rifles and shotguns, she asked him to teach her pistols. She learned quickly but made it clear she wouldn't let such men take her alive.

Today was a good day, though, and while they'd stay on guard, he looked forward to joining Wenonah, Brad, and their daughter for supper that evening. Cara insisted on reading to baby Jayne, and they'd have a whiskey later and get to bed. In the following days, they'd prepare for the fall festival, the first in South Pass. After that, it would be back to the routine of helping people with their businesses, meeting new settlers, and all that came with living in a frontier town. Some were even talking about building a railroad along the trail. Since coming to this world based on a game over a decade ago, a lot had changed for Jackson Graham, but something were still the same. The good things in life were still good, like having a home and family.

 

[DarkWarrioress]

The rest of their evening went fairly quiet. Sara was sporting a headache and wasn’t feeling very social, besides, Henry kept tossing her sly looks hen he thought Frank or she wasn’t looking. Sara didn’t have a very good feeling about Henry.

“Sara, you take my bed over there in the corner. I will bunk down in front of the fire.”

“Frank, no I can---”

Frank held up his hand.

“No arguing, missy. You take my bed like a good girl now. I’ll be fine. Not like I haven’t bunked down on the ground or floor before.”

Frank refused to take no for an answer and Sara’s head hurt too much for her to argue with him. She crawled up into his bed and settled in for the night. She fell into a deep sleep with the sound of the fire crackling in the fireplace.

Sometime during the night Sara abruptly woke up with a hand over her mouth and the weight of a body on top of hers. Opening her eyes, she found Henry on top of her, lifting her dress and trying to get his hardened cock out of his pants. His hot breath flowed over her ear.

“You be a good girl now. No strugglin’, ya hear. It has been a long time since I had me a woman and I never had me a squaw before. Don’ be wakin’ Frank or Imma gonna have to hurt him and I donna want to do that, not over some piece of pussy.”

Sara tried to buck Henry off of her but he was too heavy. Her eyes turned toward the lump on the floor that was Frank but she couldn’t risk Henry hurting him. Instead she tried to bite the hand over her mouth and started beating him with her fists. In answer to her action, Henry quickly flipped Sara on her stomach, yanking her dress up and exposing her ass. His voice was back in her ear as his body pressed hers into the bed.

“Oh, so you wantin’ to be like that, huh? I can jus’ as well fuck you like this…”

Her grabbed her hands with one of his and used his other to tear off her underwear. He used it to bind her hands over her head. Using both his hands, he yanked her to her knees, pressing her head into the thin pillow beneath it. He leaned over her back.

“I can smother ya and leave ya fer dead, woman. Don’ be testin’ me. Now be a good girl just like Frank told ya.”

He lifted his body from hers, pressing between her shoulder blades to hold her down while his knees pressed between hers, spreading her legs open. Sara felt his cock probe between her legs and push upward, finding her dry slit. Nothing mattered to Henry but relieving himself of his cum inside of her. The head of his cock found her opening and pushed inward, driving himself into her. Sara screamed into the pillow. Henry’s hands held her hips steady as he plowed himself into her time and time again. He held himself deep inside of her and she could feel him twitching there. His voice came back to her ear and his harsh whisper filled it.

“I don’ care what Frank says. Squaw pussy is some mighty fine pussy and this here is squaw pussy. Ya lived among the Indians and I bet some Indian buck had this pussy. Now I have it.”

Henry’s breathing became faster and his hips pounded against her ass. One of his hands reached around over her hip, his fingers finding himself driving in and out of her and it seemed to excite him even more.

“Bet I can make ya cum too, squaw. I bet I can.”

Sara felt his cock leave her body and then his hands were holding her legs apart as he crawled under her body and she felt his mouth on her. She was literally sitting on his face now. His mouth found her clit and began sucking on it. She felt his tongue lashing against the little bud. His tongue would move from her clit to her pussy, tongue fucking her.

Oh, dear god, no. This wasn’t happening. But it was. Sara felt her body betray her. It started responding to Henry’s efforts. NO. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want him. Sara started to try to tear her body away from his mouth. Henry wasn’t letting go. He wrapped his arms around her and held her down against his eager mouth. He sucked on her clit like it was a small cock, making her shudder. At some point, he fed one finger then two into her now sodden pussy as she whimpered. That wasn’t enough for Henry. He changed positions once more. Shoving her legs apart and jamming his cock into her again, fucking her. Getting his cock nice and wet, he pulled back and she felt the tip probe between her ass cheeks. She tried to buck him off. Henry held on. His hands spread her ass cheeks wide, exposing the goal to his eyes and licked his lips. He guided his stiff cock to that tight little bud and began to push in. Sara cried into the pillow and struggled to break free. With his cock head just inside her ass, he leaned over to whisper in her ear once more.

“Betcha that Indian buck of yers never got hisself any of this fine ass. Well, it be mine now.”

He pushed deeper and deeper until with a final lunge he was buried to the end of his cock inside her.

“So tight. So hot. Imma gonna fuck us both senseless.”

Henry fucked her ass harder than he had her pussy. Sara blacked out from pain and that was probably a good thing.

In the morning, she woke up with her body hurting and alone. Henry had untied her, covered her up and was nowhere to be found.

 

[JackHemingway]

Rachel "Arizona" Bryant, better known as Miss Arizona or Miss A or Missy to her close personal friends, was having a rare experience in the back of a wagon. She was actually enjoying sex with a client. She'd left on the white satin petticoat she'd purchased in Independence, but the young man had insisted on exposing her ample, round, full bosoms, which more than a few thought were her best features. All the sucking licking, and kissing was very enjoyable, and she was sure he'd had his fill before he got naked and got on top of her. Happily, she'd spread her legs, putting her bare feet up on the sides of the wagon as she lay comfortable on a pile of blankets, cushions, and furs as he pounded away like a jackrabbit, bringing her to orgasm, a rare treat with the men she encountered in her profession so they enjoyed a few kisses and she messed his hair as he continued to go at it like he never had before. Considering how young he looked, Rachel thought it might have been a possibility, but as her breasts bounced with each hard thrust, she had to say the boy made up for his lack of experience with eagerness. She might have felt a little bad about things, but she knew the situation and had already committed.

Some ten years ago, she was a plump prairie wife who thought the only point of intercourse was to make babies, and she and her husband were good at that, but in two years, John was dead, and she'd lost her three children to illness as she tried to make it on the frontier alone. Rachel Bryant, by then, was earning a living as a cook in a mining town doing odd jobs for the prospectors. One day, when bathing in the pond, she was offered some gold to let a few men watch. Soon, she found herself taking a bath every day, leading to her having a "date" every evening. She worked her way through the camp using every method she knew not to get pregnant and eventually had her own tent filled with trade goods and comforts and a sack of gold. One night, a client made his intentions known, saying she wouldn't see anyone else, and brutally made his point. He didn't regret that mistake very long, and she still wore his gunbelt as a reminder of how she might be a whore, but she decided how she lived her life. After that, she worked in the saloons and cantinas of the many small towns, moving around and working as a showgirl, bartender, and exotic dancer. She was a mistress to a general, penned a lusty dime novel that got her driven out of town, and even worked in a luxurious brothel in San Francisco. She chased money, had been in love several times and in lust a lot more, and made the best of her position line life.

Rachel's latest endeavor had her out on the frontier with a small group of wagons providing intimate services to those on the plains. Women would travel with them for a few months before moving on, but her partners were Carmen, a beautiful rich girl who'd run away from Mexico with her lover, and Sai, a beautiful Chinese woman who was exotic and erotic to most men on the frontier. They all had their sorted stories and dealt in desire, and away from any law or moral outrage, they were free to ply their trade. Granted, you had to be more open to trade items like wagon wheels or elk meat on the frontier, but the operation was profitable. Her dog Angel was a gift from a young Sioux warrior working as a scout. She could afford to feed and pay a wagon master and a few cowboys to watch out for their safety, as well as a cook and Nannie Wilder, a skilled buffalo hunter with her share of admirers even if she didn't want to shed her buckskin. She wasn't a prude, just very picky and insisted a man at least be a better hunter than she was before she'd welcome him into her bed. So they'd set up their wagons and put up the "Harlot Flag," which depicted a naked cowgirl riding a black horse bareback and wait for customers. They'd work an area for a bit before moving on, and unlike others, they welcomed Indian clients as long as they remained friendly, and most were.

Tonight, though, the arrival of a few young men eager for fun and with plenty of cash set off a few alarm bells. They were out of place and over food and whiskey; their stories didn't add up at all, and a previous visitor had told them to be on the lookout for just this type of individual. In the business, you'd have to put up with the likes of thieves and killers, but some things you just couldn't overlook even if you were a sinner. So partway through the evening, she'd sent one of her cowboys out with a message and a fast horse, and she went through the motions of entertaining. The young man on top of her was approaching climax, and while she figured he'd want to go at least another round hell, he'd paid much more than he needed to. She couldn't keep him here all night. At the moment, though, she began moaning and screaming to sell it, and with a few good hard thrusts, she felt him cum hard inside the lambskin condom. He thrust a few more times for good measure before collapsing and panting on her large breasts, and she caressed his hair and swooned. He was overwhelmed, but after a few minutes of post-sex bliss, she was aware of what was going on around her, an ability she'd long picked up for her own safety over the years. He slid out of her, moved to his knees, and looked down at the condom.

After he looked down, he looked at her sheepishly and inquired, "Ah, can we wash this one and use it again, Ms. A, or do you need me to buy another because that was a mess ah fun."

Rachel suppressed a giggle as she pulled her legs back, slid her breasts back into her petticoat, sat up on the padding, and replied,"No, darling, and that was fun, but those tend to be one-and-done. Also, I think you might want to get dressed."

"Oh no, I like being nekkid with you, and well, I was hoping you'd like to take off all that and lay down with me for a bit and talk and..."

As she shook her head, he didn't have time to finish with two sets of hands dragging him out of the back of the wagon and onto the ground hard. He tried to spring up to fight or run, but neither happened as Walter 'Bloody' Taylor, a half Apache half Mexican scout, struck him in the side of the head with the butt of his shotgun before looking up at Rachel and inquired in Spanish if he'd harmed her, as another man she didn't know hogged tied the naked young man. Rachel replied back in Spanish that he hadn't before sliding out the back of the wagon and saw her partners similarly dressed off to the side by the fire with her cowboys and wagon master looking on rifles in hand. The other two guests that evening were in various states of dress near an open wagon with half a dozen blue-coated militia soldiers surrounding them. Rachel searched the crowd until she saw the man she was looking for, Jackson Graham. The tall, imposing cowboy and many other things was there dressed for the trail, sporting a long buffalo coat and a cowboy hat as he lit a cigar. He gestured to the small posse, who began loading the three now terrified young men into the back of the wagon. The excitement was over for now, and she walked over to her old frontier contact and nodded and stood next to him, and he nodded back to her.

She was the first to speak as they watched the small group load the men and their belongings in the firelight. "Jackson, they were never here, and you never came to collect them. That's my story if any of their friends show up. I would appreciate a piece of whatever you get when you sell their clothes, gear, and horses, and I expect that reward to be deposited into my account in the bank at South Pass right away."

"Whatever's left after I handle expenses and all the reward will be there. You have Mr. Petersen at the bank completely fooled. He refers to you as that nice lady always in a church dress. If need be, he'll do a bank draft as long as he has an official letter from you, and I can send it to tribal lands if you like. I take it you're heading there next?"

"I'm thinking about it. I can always stock up on food when I pass through that area, but I'll be coming to town. I like seeing what's in the shops and what's not. Don't worry, I won't bother you and your new bride."

"No worries, you can come by for supper. Besides, I told Cara all about you. She thinks people can be good no matter what their profession is."

​

 

[DarkWarrioress]

She managed to get up and went outside to take care of personal matters. She found spots of blood on her clothing but should be able to hide them from Frank. When Sara came back inside the cabin Frank was busy making them breakfast. She offered to help but he waved her away to the crude table and chairs.

“You go sit down, Sara. I got this. How is your head this morning?”

Sara gingerly sat down and accepted the cup of coffee that Frank held out to her.

“It hurts a little less this morning. Thank you, Frank.”

She offered him a small smile as she took a plate from him.

“It ain’t much but it will fill ya up. Not sure where Henry has gone off too, probably went off to do some minin’. I figgered I’d hitch up the wagon and take ya into the fort today. The fort would be better than takin’ ya into town. Not much to the town of River Gulch. The fort would be best for ya.”

Sara had been pushing her food around on the tin plate but then forced herself to eat. Wasting food did not set well with her. She did insist on washing the dishes when they were finished. It was a small fight that Frank gladly gave up, opting to go get the mule, Bessie hooked up to the cart.

Frank’s camp was set between the town of River Gulch and Fort Collins. It worked out well for Henry and Frank that way. When the men were looking for a rowdy time, they headed into River Gulch. Fort Collins provided supplies and information. After everything was done, Frank helped Sara into the wagon and off they went.

The trip to Fort Collins took about half a day. When they got inside, Frank drove immediately to the doctor’s home. They were met by the doctor’s wife, Maggie. Maggie was a motherly, friendly soul and she ushered both Frank and Sara inside as Frank explained why they were there. The doctor, Charles Taylor, came from the back of the house.

“Well, well, who do we have here, Mrs. Taylor?”

His voice was friendly and comforting.

“Well dear, you know Frank and this is Sara Williams. Frank brought Sara in so you could check her over. Frank and Henry found Sara about a day ago.

“Well, Miss Williams, if you will come with me, we’ll take a look at that head of yours and you can tell me what you remember.”

Dr. Taylor ushered Sara to the back of the house, opening a door for her. Looking around Sara could tell that the doctor saw his patients here.

“Have a seat on the table over there, Miss Williams and let me have a look at your head. Does it hurt anywhere else?”

Sara bit her lip. She was tempted to tell the good doctor about what Henry had done to her but thought better of it. Frank would surely beat his partner if not outright kill him if he found out about what Henry had done to her last night. So, instead, she gently shook her head and sat quietly while the doctor looked at her head. She also explained that as far as she could figure out, she had been hit on the head and was left outside of River Gulch, where Frank and Henry had come across her. When Dr. Taylor asked her if she remembered anything before that, Sara hesitated. It was apparent to her that Henry hated the Indians and hated even more that she was a white woman who chose to live among them. Unsure what the doctor and his wife felt about such things, she again chose to remain silent and lied. She told the doctor she couldn’t remember anything. Dr. Taylor told her it wasn’t unusual and that her memories could come back at any time or they may not. He wanted to see her again in about two weeks. Sara thanked the doctor and as they returned to join Frank and his wife, Sara apologized that she didn’t have any money to pay him with.

“Don’t worry dear, Frank here paid the bill.”

Sara looked at Frank. “Frank! No. I---I--- I will pay you back as soon as I can find some work.”

Frank laid a hand on Sara’s arm. “Sara, don’ you worry none. I can handle it.”

Sara shook her head and again told him she would be paying him back as soon as she could.

“So, you are looking for some work, Sara? I think Betsy over at the Blue Moon was saying the other day she could use some help over at her place. It wouldn’t be much. Room and board and a little money for washing dishes, sweeping up and such.”

Sara smiled gratefully at Maggie Taylor. “Thank you, Mrs. Taylor. I’ll head over there right after I say good-bye to Frank.”

Sara followed Frank out to the wagon and stood there petting Bessie as she said good-bye and thank you to Frank.

“I come to the fort about once a month, Sara. I will come lookin’ for ya to see how ya are doin’”

Sara smiled. “I’d like that Frank. I better be getting over to the Blue Moon. Thank you again.”

Sara leaned in to kiss Frank’s weathered cheek and with a wave, headed in the direction that Maggie had pointed out. The fort was a bustling place and dusty. There were calvary units coming and going as well as men in uniform. There were men escorting women here and there. Betsy ran not only a café but she rented out rooms as well. Sara stepped inside the establishment and looked around. It was not an overly grand place. There was a staircase right in front of her with a small sitting room to the left with a desk and person behind it. To the right was a larger room with tables covered in linen and chairs around them.

(tbc)

 

[DarkWarrioress]

Sara stepped into the dining room and was greeted by an attractive woman who was wearing an apron and wiping her hands on a towel.

“Good Afternoon, Miss. Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Betsy. Mrs. Taylor sent me over. She said that Betsy was looking for some help?”

The woman smiled and held out her hand.

“I’m Betsy and you are?”

“My name is Sara Williams.”

Sara shook Betsy’s hand with a smile.

“Did Maggie tell you I can’t pay much? I’m offering room and board and a little money to go with it. Right now, it’s just cleaning up, washing dishes and mopping floors.”

“That’s fine. I can do all that and I’m not afraid of hard work.”

Betsy’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Can you cook?”

Sara’s grin widened.

“I can when you need someone to help out.”

“When can you start?”

“Right now if you’d like.”

Betsy put Sara to work and by the end of the night, Sara was exhausted. She went to the desk and collected the key to her room and tread upstairs tiredly. Closing the door behind her, Sara went to the small dresser and lit the oil lamp with matches she found there. Glancing in the mirror, she filled the basin with water and scrubbed her face. No one had said anything about her doe skinned dress. She got plenty of looks but no one said anything. Sara decided then and there, she would purchase herself a simple dress for working and she had plans for different clothing when she wasn’t working. Sara was going to be her own person. Getting into bed, she thought about Gentle Bear and what must he be thinking when she disappeared. She longed for Gentle Bear and his strong body but until she could get the lay of the land, she must adjust to her current circumstances and carry on.

Days came and went. Sara saved up her money. It wasn’t much and it took a bit for her to save enough to buy that dress she wanted at the fort’s mercantile. She cleaned her doe skinned dress and tucked it away. She still wore her moccasins however. At night, as she lay in bed, Sara had a lot of time to think. Mostly about wanting to kill Henry for what he did to her, grateful that her monthlies came and went so Henry hadn’t gotten her pregnant. Eventually, Sara saved enough money to go to the local seamstress and asked her to make some clothes for her and in her days off, she wore them. Soft doe skinned pants that clung to her figure. She topped it with a plaid shirt and a pair of knee high moccasins, Eventually, she purchased twin revolvers, Colt Paterson’s. These she wore strapped to her hip. By then, Sara had moved up at the Blue Moon to being a full time cook. She made much more money than she had in the beginning. Sara was thankful for her vast knowledge of the video game Western Trails. She was a crack shot with those pistols. Never again would a man force himself on her person or abuse her. She would kill him first.

One day during Sara’s day off a patrolling unit of the calvary rode in. As Sara paused in her walk across the dirt street to let the calvary by, she noted that one of the horses carried a covered bundle on its back. Thinking nothing of it, she crossed the street after the calvary patrol and headed toward the doctor’s home. Of late, she had been helping the doctor out. She brought herbs and helped Maggie put them in jars for the doctor’s use. Dr. Taylor was grateful for Sara’s knowledge of the herbs. She often shared the knowledge she had gathered from the women of her village.

“Bring him in here.”

She heard the doctor say in the hallway. Going to the door, she watched as four of the calvary patrol she had seen earlier, brought in what looked like a body.

“Found him stripped naked and staked to an ant hill on our patrol. They even cut off his eyelids.”

One of the soldiers sounded horrified. Sara drew closer and stood in the doorway. The doctor looked up.

“You might want to leave, Sara. This is not going to be a pretty sight.”

Sara shook her head, “I’ll be fine.”

She stayed where she was and gasped audibly as the men lifted the blanket covering the body. Lying on the table was the naked body of Henry. At her gasp, the doctor looked at her.

“Do you know this person, Sara?”

She nodded, looking at the blistered body.

“That’s Henry, Dr. Taylor.”

“Henry?”

Doctor Taylor took a closer look.

“By god, Sara. Are you sure?”

She nodded, turned on her heel and left.