Paradise Valley 5, Fort Kearney

Paradise Valley, Fort Kearney

“Eeeiiiee eee eeet,” the beautiful tinkling call of a blackbird sang from the top of a cattail in the river. Silver Quail looked up and smiled.

“I can make you a whistle like that out of a willow branch. I love blackbirds, they are so beautiful,” Silver Quail said from where they sat by the river. They had willow branches all around them. Nancy had a taller pile because she was a slower worker. They each had a four-foot-long cone of branches in their laps with willow funnels hidden inside the mouth. Silver Quail’s was almost complete. Nancy was an hour away from completing her fish trap. They worked side by side in companionable silence. The warm sun drew familiar fragrances from Silver Quail’s buckskin dress. Bees, flies, and white fluff dotted the golden rays of morning sunlight shining down upon the river. A humming bird investigated the bright colors of Nancy’s dress, before flying off to find flowers.

“There,” White Quail pointed. The blackbird flew up and disappeared. The cattails near where it sat were waving, although there was no wind. “Do you see that?”

“Yes,” Nancy said, shading her eyes. “What is it?”

“A trout, perch, or catfish, most likely. A very large fish. Fish play and spawn out here in the yellow sand, but their food is hidden in the reeds. They have hidden pathways inside the reeds that only they know about. If you watch, you can find these pathways.”

“So that’s where you will hide your trap?” Nancy said in comprehension, while biting her lip. She took great pains in weaving her fish trap tight with it’s many rings of willow branches.

“It is, but we will look for one more, a place for you. There, that’s good enough,” Silver Quail sat her fish trap on the sand beside her. She took up another large willow branch and bent it into an oval. As she added more branches, her oval became almost flat.

“Yours is deformed,” Nancy giggled.

“No, this one is different. It’s for crawdads. Easy to crawl into, impossible to escape. It requires a very delicate weave.”

“Crayfish?” Nancy asked in disgust.

“My god yes,” Silver Quail had adopted the phrase from Nancy.

“I will let you eat one first,” Nancy shivered.

“I have eaten many. Those who can find and trap crayfish are considered very skillful in my tribe. It’s one of the best foods on earth. Catch as many as you can, dry the extras for the winter. They are heavenly in soups.” Silver Quail waded out and pushed her trap to the bottom of the river. She waved Nancy forward and pointed out another likely spot.

“What about that one?” Nancy pointed at the crayfish trap.

“That’s why I brought the stinking quail heads,” Silver Quail smiled. She tossed the four heads into the trap, then pinned the trap to the bottom of the river with a long forked stick. They watched for a moment to make sure nothing drifted away, then returned to the ranch. There wasn’t much going on, the girls were hunting food, the men were driving 30 head of cattle to Ft. Kearney for sale. Silver Quail had collected dandelions for planting in the front yard, and Nancy had collected a few daisies. Both were edible. Rather than completing the dreaded picket fence, Silver Quail and Nancy had brought in stones from around the ranch. They dragged the stone boat around behind a horse to smooth out the potholes in the much-used road, then used the stones to build a low fence around front yard to keep horses out. They spent the rest of the morning planting. It was hard for Nancy to keep up with Silver Quail’s brutal pace, but she was determined to gain Silver Quail’s magnificent figure and her wiry strength.

“There, those yellow mushrooms growing in a clump,” White Fawn pointed in excitement. She dropped the reins of their basket-ladened horse and pointed.

“They are everywhere,” Willow Bud exclaimed. “My tribe comes from the desert, we have no mushrooms,” Willow Bud bent to collect the best of the plentiful mushrooms.

“I don’t think I’d like the desert. No, get them all, we will dry the extras,” White Fawn bent to pick the handful of chanterelles which Willow Bud had left behind. She suddenly found her face an inch from the other girl’s.

“You . . . you have to be careful,” White Fawn whispered, “there is another one that looks like these, but they will make you sick,” she looked from Willow Bud’s eyes to her mouth. “I will show you the difference later.”

“Ok,” Willow Bud was poised like a frightened deer.

“I like the huge puff balls and any which grow on a tree the best. There are no poisonous varieties.”

“I see,” Willow Bud moved no closer, or farther away. She simply waited.

“Do you know how to kiss?” White Fawn whispered.

“Oh yes, the white men teach me,” Willow Bud snarled. White Fawn dropped the mushrooms into the basket with lax fingers. She moved closer to Willow Bud and pressed her lips against the Ute girl’s. They became very animated, as they twisted and twined. Slowly they sank to the ground and continued the kiss, tightly locked in each other’s arms. Being ever frugal, White Fawn set the basket of mushrooms aside so it would not get dumped.

Willow Bud slid to her back on the ground, with White Fawn on top of her. They kissed silently for several minutes, then White Fawn’s hands went to Willow Bud’s breasts. They were large and firm in her hands. She liked them immediately. As she massaged first one breast, then the other, Willow Bud withered beneath her. White Fawn lowered her mouth and licked Willow Bud’s right breast. It was salty and subtly scented. She sucked the end of Willow Bud’s breast into her mouth, while breathing loudly. She finally pulled her mouth off and captured the stiffened nipple.

“I’ve never done this before,” Willow Bud warned.

“Don’t worry, I have,” White Fawn said with a smile. She leaned across the girl and started on her left breast. After several more minutes White Fawn wanted more. She was shaking, nervous, and very horny. She quickly slid Willow Bud’s skirt up her slender legs and found the abundant pussy hair beneath it. Willow Bud had her legs tightly closed. White Fawn gently pried them open, revealing a large, well-defined pussy. It was already glistening with juice. Willow Bud was ready.

White Fawn pushed Willow Bud’s right leg aside and crawled up between them. She caressed the abnormally large pussy lips with the tips of her fingers and Willow Bud withered beneath her. White Fawn brought her fingers up to her nose and sniffed, while looking Willow Bud in the eyes, then she slid the fingers inside her mouth and sucked on the juices. Willow Bud’s eyes widened. White Fawn pressed the wet lips of Willow Bud’s pussy open with her thumbs and sank her face between her legs. She showed no hesitation when her lips touched Willow Bud’s moist box and kissed it, first in one place then another, with loud, slow kisses. The tip of her tongue slid inside Willow Bud and the girl arched and gasped, the first sound she had made.

White Fawn stopped and tasted the fluids on her tongue, deciding they were unique and good. She sealed her mouth over Willow Bud’s pussy and began sucking and tonguing, while she worked her face from side to side. Willow Bud heaved up off the dry leaves and fed her sensitive pussy to White Fawn’s eager lips. She panted and cried as the tongue flashed around inside her, sending fire and electricity to all parts of her body. She looked down with desperate eyes, looking right into the smiling eyes of White Fawn. She hissed something in her own language, then arched more and closed her eyes. Her hands were full of dry leaves. Her heels dug into the fresh black earth. White Fawn wet two fingers in Willow Bud’s pussy and began sliding them in and out of the girl. She whimpered and thrashed, feeling more stimulation in her pussy than she had ever felt before.

The steady sound of White Fawn’s tongue and Willow Bud’s panting breath blended with the bird calls around them. The horse snorted and shook it’s head, then stepped forward in search of food. A squirrel chattered at the horse, standing so close to its tree. The horse ignored it, munching quietly, then dropped its head to pull more grass.

The steady sound of White Fawn’s tongue flicking in wet pussy flesh, was being matched with small cries coming from Willow Bud. This was unusual since few Indian girls allowed themselves to make sounds during sex. This told White Fawn that Willow Bud was very stimulated. She was enjoying herself a lot, according to her movements. White Fawn enjoyed the girl’s flavor and warmth. She could feel heat coming from the girl’s pussy and those nethery soft thighs on each side of her head. Occasionally Willow Bud raised her thighs and clamped them tightly over White Fawn’s small ears. White Fawn loved the softness and warmth, but it was hard to breathe and manipulate her stroking fingers.

Willow Bud also felt fire. The warning fires of an approaching orgasm.

“Achee,” she hissed, giving White Fawn a desperate look. “Es caliente,” she whispered in Spanish, signifying that her orgasm was near. White Fawn nodded with smiling eyes. She never took her eyes off the beautiful Ute girl, as her mouth worked in her pussy. She liked the control she had over the girl. It was amazing what she could get people to do, simply by stimulating their genitalia. White Fawn mashed her fingers inside the girl right up to the knuckles, while concentrating only on her clit, with her tongue. Willow Bud was thrashing around noisily in the dry leaves. It would only be moments now.

White Fawn held her fingers still, allowing the girl to fuck herself on her stationary fingers. Willow Bud pushed hard against the fingers, unable to escape the seeking tongue. Then she stiffened and sat up as her loins exploded.

“Aaaeeee,” she screamed in an uncharacteristic manner. She shivered, holding her breath, while looking at White Fawn with large, frightened eyes. She gaped for breath twice, before her orgasm lessened and she fell back to the ground panting, shaking as each wave of pleasure swept over her body.

“Wow, you were really . . . ” White Fawn was stopped as Willow Bud sat up and pulled her into a passionate kiss.

“El tuyo por siempre,” Willow Bud whispered harshly, before she melted against White Fawn’s body.

White Fawn knew Spanish pretty well, but she was not sure if Willow Bud was declaring her love, or their marriage.

“Where’s the fort?” Tall Elk asked as they rode along behind a line of wagons and oxen. They arrived at Ft, Kearney, but it was not what Tall Elk had expected.

“All those shacks are the fort. They have no fences or watchtowers,” Rusty smiled. It was easy to drive the cattle in the midst of the westward advance to Oregon. The cattle simply fell into step with the cattle and horses around them.

“Who do we see?” Tall Quail asked uncomfortably. Despite his short hair and cowboy hat, he was getting a few suspicious looks. It didn’t matter that the Sioux were not at war with the white men, an Indian was an Indian in some eyes.

“Look for the flag, partner.”

“The flag?”

“Sure thing. A big flapping piece of cloth just full of colors, blue like the sky, white like snow, and red like blood. You can’t miss it.”

“Ah, there,” Tall Elk pointed at a three-room sod-covered house with a flag above it.

They sold the cattle for 20 dollars per head. It seemed that the men at Ft. Kearney were starving and the Colonel was eager for all the beef they could round up. He made them promise to bring more, before he would allow them to leave. With so much money in their pockets, they were wary as they stepped into the Sutler’s store and ordered drygoods. While a clerk loaded their packhorses, Rusty passed the time over a whiskey. Tall Elk was more interested in the weapons displayed on the wall. He was interested because they were the same weapons they had taken from the men attacking the ranch. This was unusual since there were several thousand small arms suppliers sending guns to American and out west. The chance of seeing two alike was slim. These were top of the line muzzle loading rifles. He displayed the rifles marked with J. H. Hall on top of the breach, as Rusty looked around. Rusty’s eyes went to the store owner, then back to Tall Elk. He nodded for Tall Elk to return the rifle to its place on the wall.

“I picked up a few weapons after a Ute attack,” Rusty said casually. “Know of anybody who needs one?”

“Some boys out on the 3L where in looking for guns. Mine were too pricey for them.”

“I know the ranch, ours is next to it,” Rusty nodded, finishing his drink. He turned and Tall Elk started to join him at the door, when a man blocked the door. The man swept his coat aside and reached for his pistol. In a flash, both pistols covered him. He jumped and raised his hands, slowly backing through the doors. He turned and disappeared.

“By any chance is that one of them?” Rusty called.

“Reg never works. He just waits. Appears you were the ones he was waiting for this time,” the bartender polished a glass and set it on the shelf.

“Seen him talking to anybody?”

“Not likely. I’d appreciate not getting my inventory shot up, if you gents have business elsewhere. I started out with a plank, a wooden barrel, and a pewter cup. I don’t want to start over again.”

Rusty laughed and saluted. He stepped to the door and peeked out. There were passing pilgrims for as far as the eye could see, plodding, driving teams, struggling to keep up with the dust shrouded wagons ahead of them. Barefoot children herded goats, sheep, and even a few ducks, along behind the wagons. A few squealing children played, running between pedestrians, cattle, and horses. Rusty saw the Colonel and two sergeants standing beside the trail, watching the pioneers passing, speaking occasionally and nodding to them all. He was in a good mood because the cook had just slaughtered a beef, and he was awaiting his steak.

“Looks clear,” Rusty said to Tall Elk.

“My hackles are standing up,” Talk Elk said, looking at their horses tied to the railing. “They’re out there.”

“Mister, if you were to lay for a guy, where would you do it?” Rusty asked. The bartender chewed his tobacco for a moment and spat.

“Over west of here. It looks flat but there’s a gully.”

“Thanks. Well there’s no time like the present,” Rusty smiled. They pulled their guns and stepped out. Once outside they slid up against the poles supporting the porch and looked to the west. It was hard to see between the pioneers, which meant it would be hard for the ambushers to see as well. It was a stupid place for an ambush. They each had their riding horse and two pack horses to ...

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