Johnny Reb
by Ann Douglas
WARNING - Although primarily a lesbian tale, this story contains
a brief heterosexual rape scene. It's a story that takes place in a time
of war and when I originally wrote it I thought long and hard if the
story really needed it. In the end I felt it did. In 25 years of writing,
it was the most difficult scene to write and I felt that this warning
was appropriate.
The midday sun was just reaching its zenith as the woman in the
faded blue dress stood on the porch. She was looking out to the
dirt road that ran along side what was left of the fence that
bordered the old farm. The house behind her had seen better
days, but that could be said for just about every house in the
county here in the spring of 1865. After four years of what had
started out as the War for Southern Independence, the tall
brunette considered herself lucky to have a roof over her head at
all. Many of her neighbors couldn't make that claim.
Ashley Walsh had been born on this farm some twenty-three
years before. Back then, her family had lived in the main house,
built a half century before on the high knoll an eight of a
mile up the hill. The house had suffered major damage during a
battle between invading Federal troops and Confederate infantry a
year before. After that, it was easier for Ashley to move into
the smaller house built by her brothers as a wedding present for
her and her husband. Aside from the house she grew up in, Ashley
also lost something much more dear during those two horrible days.
Her father, Timothy Michael Flynn had suffered a seizure,
brought on by the loss of all his family had built, and died right
after the opposing armies had moved on. Laying him to rest next
to his beloved wife, Ashley had been reminded of what else she
had lost in this horrible war.
Her brother, William, so eager to rush off and enlist, died
early in '62 at a place called Blue Gap. About six months later, her
older brother, Timothy, fell at Clark's Hollow. With him in that
fight had been their cousin, Michael, who had been wounded so
badly that he also died two weeks later.
The hardest blow, at least to Ashley, was the loss of her
husband, Stephen. A Captain who rode with Jeb Stuart, he had
fallen at Gettysburg back in '63.
In all, Timothy and Mary Flynn had four sons who had
answered the call to the colors. As far as Ashley knew, her
younger brothers, Robert and Noah were still alive. They were
serving out west with General Johnston, and no mail had come from
them for months. For all she knew, Ashley could be the last of the
Flynn's. Still, every night she prayed that she wasn't.
At least one a day, Ashley would take a few minutes from
her labors and just stare down the road. As impossible as she
knew it was, she sometimes hoped she might see Robert or Noah
coming down the road, headed for home. There was not much else
to live for these days, except the hope that tomorrow would be
better.
The war, which had begun among such high spirits, had gone
very badly for the South and the State of Virginia. Two days ago,
one of her few remaining neighbors had brought news from
Richmond. It was said that General Lee had taken the Army of
Northern Virginia off to fight its last battles. It was taken as an
article of faith that the end was near. The question on most
everyone's mind was what would come after that.
Ashley turned to head back into the house and get back to
work. She certainly had enough to keep her busy. Up until a week
ago, she'd had the help of another two sets of hands. An older
couple that'd had their own farm burned out by the Yankees.
They'd stayed with Ashley over the winter, but with the coming of
spring had decided to move on. Even if she'd had the money to hire
help, there were few able-bodied men left in the county that
weren't off with the Army. At least those she'd trust to be alone
with day after day, or more importantly - night after night.
Pausing for a moment, Ashley caught sign of a small group of
men on foot, just coming over the rise. They were still too far
away to see who they were, or even if they wore blue or gray. Her
only certainty was that they were heading her way.
Quick as she could, Ashley went back into the house and
reached behind the door, grabbing her father's old hunting rifle.
In normal times, the use of such an instrument would be foreign to
an alumni of Miss Thompson's School for Young Ladies. That these
were not normal times would be overstating the obvious. Ever a
practical man, especially when it came to his only daughter,
Timothy Flynn had made sure that she knew how to use the
weapon, and use it well.
With that weapon primed and in hand, Ashley stood on the
porch, waiting for the three men to come within earshot. As they
had grew closer, she was able to see that they were wearing what
at least once had been Confederate butternut and gray. Their
uniforms had seem a great deal of use.
"That's close enough, gentlemen," she said in a loud voice,
bringing her gun to bear to emphasize her words and the fact that
she knew how to use it.
"Good afternoon, Ma'am," the man in the lead said, stopping
short when he spied the gun pointed at him and his fellows. "We're
sorry to spook you if we did, but we were wondering if you could
spare some scraps for three tired and very hungry fighting men?"
Ashley took in the man with a suspicious eye. He looked to
be in his late twenties or early thirties, but wore a long scruffy
beard that made him look much older. On the sleeves of the
butternut jacket were sergeant’s stripes.
The second man was dressed no better and of a similar
appearance. His sleeves, however, were bare. The third man, who
seemed to stay as far back as he could, looked more boy than man.
His clean shaven face seemed half hidden behind what looked like
weeks of grime.
"I've no food to share," Ashley said, putting the threat of
her firearm behind her words. Then, thinking of her brothers who
wore the same uniform as these men, she added, "But you're
welcome to fill your canteens at the well."
"We thank you kindly, Ma'am," the sergeant replied.
They started to move off in the direction Ashley had
indicated in search of the well when her curiosity prompted to ask
them a question.
"Are you part of General Lee's Army?"
"Not directly, Ma'am," the sergeant answered. "We here
are part of Hamilton's Militia, or what's left of it anyway. The
boys and I figured the fighting’s over. I heard tell that old
General Lee was going to face off against Grant once last time,
then it would be all over. Don't seem right to fight and die if you
are going to give up in the end anyway."
"I can't say as I blame you," Ashley said, thinking of her
own losses and the families that might be waiting at home for
these men. The days of riding off for flag and glory were long
gone, if they ever existed in the first place.
The soldiers filled their canteens at the well, then came
back to thank Ashley once more. Before they left for good, she
had managed to find a little food for them to share. She liked to
think that if Robert and Noah were still out there and traveling
some back road, someone would be as kind to them as well.
Once they were out of sight, Ashley finally went back to her
chores. The visit of the soldiers had left her far behind, but she
really didn't mind. After all, who was going to notice?
A few hours later, Ashley herself went to the well to get
water to boil some vegetables for dinner. There she found an old
battered and torn haversack. One of the soldiers must’ve dropped
it. Curious, she looked inside. There were a few letters and other
keepsakes, as well as the usual army fare. It seemed a pity for one
of them to have carried it for so long, only to lose it on the way
home. She wondered which one of them it had belonged to.
Just then, a loud shout from the direction of the road
interrupted her thoughts. Startled, Ashley looked up to again see
motion on the road. A sudden look of panic filled her normally
composed face. This time there were two men, both on horseback,
riding up the road. Despite the dust turned up by their travel, it
was clear to her that both wore Federal Blue.
Letting the worn haversack fall from her hands, Ashley ran
as fast as she could for the house, and the protective rifle she had
left there.
Ashley’s first sensation upon waking was a pain and
stiffness in her arms and back. It only took a moment for her to
realize why. She was now in the small house, spread eagle across
the kitchen table; her arms tied to the table and her legs hanging
over the side. Rope also tied her ankles to the bottom legs of the
table. As she tried to free herself, she could hear the sounds of
someone rummaging through the other rooms, cursing that there
was little of value to find.
Through a dim haze, Ashley remembered reaching the porch
and the waiting gun, just as the two blue clad cavalrymen pulled up
behind her. Both had pistols drawn as the closest to her leapt off
his mount and onto the porch. She recalled his gloved hand on her
arm pulling her backwards, away from her rifle. Then a hard pain
from the side of her head that ended in blackness. She could only
guess he’d hit her with his pistol to keep her from the rifle. That
they had further bound her in this manner, rather than simply
shoot her as she was sure they would have a man, didn’t bode well.
"Hey Sarge, she’s awake!" Ashley heard a voice call out from
the doorway between the kitchen and the parlor.
Tilting her head, she saw one of the two troopers stepping
into the room. He was a tall young man on the early side of twenty,
if that, with short black hair and matching mustache. His lower
face was covered with a few days stubble. The uniform he wore
was indeed the hated Yankee blue.
The soldier, whose name she would learn was Butler, now
stood silent at the bottom of the kitchen table. Ashley could see
his eyes and the look she found there didn’t give her much
encouragement. Men too long without the company of a woman,
especially those immersed in the horrors of war, were capable of
anything.
"What are you yelling about, Butler?" Sergeant Virgil
Rourke said as he stepped into the kitchen as well.
"I said she’s awake," the private repeated.
"So she is," Rourke said as he moved alongside the table.
A cold chill filled Ashley’s breast. The look in the older
man’s eyes made Butler’s look tame in comparison. The redhead
stoked his tight beard as his eyes moved up and down his helpless
prisoner.
"It’s a good thing we tied this rebel bitch up after we
caught her," the NCO said. "It looks like she’s the only valuable
thing in this lousy place."
Fear filled Ashley’s eyes at those words, while excitement
filled those of the younger soldier. She pulled at her bonds, only
to find once more that they were stronger than her arms.
"Sarge, are you sure we should be doing this?" the younger
of the two said, having a moment of conscience. "Captain Rossi
said…"
"Captain Rossi’s not here!" Rourke snapped back. "Besides,
haven’t you ever heard of spoils of war. She had a gun in her hand
when we caught her. I could’ve shot her instead of simply giv’n her
the butt of my gun."
Private Butler was about to mention that Captain Rossi had
also said that once someone was a prisoner, they were supposed to
be treated according to the rules. What Rourke said next,
however, wiped out any concerns the young man might have had.
"Have you ever been with a woman, Jimmy?"
His silence answered the Sergeant’s question.
"Then this is your chance, boy," the older man said. "And
with a white woman too. Not one of those darkies some of your
friends have been fornicating with."
As the Union Army had occupied an ever-shrinking
Confederate States, they had encountered a numbers of slaves
who had either been freed by previous divisions or had simply
run away. Some of the black women had been willing to show their
happiness in their newfound freedom in a most physical and
satisfying way. Despite his disparaging remark about them, Rourke
himself had partaken of their ebony charms more than once.
Jimmy Butler looked down again at Ashley. He had to say
she was probably the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Not
that he had seen a great many of them, excepting kinfolk of
course. The woman spread out before him was as tall as he was,
with long brown hair tied back with a ribbon. Of course the first
thing he noticed about her were her large breasts. They were
almost as big as his cousin, Alice’s. He’d walked in on Alice taking a
bath once and the memory of it still made him stiff.
A stiffness that he now also felt as he undressed Ashley
with his eyes. Sergeant Rourke however, preferred a more direct
view. Grabbing the top of Ashley’s threadbare dress, he ripped it
open, exposing the pale flesh of her breasts.
Butler’s mouth dropped open as she saw the dark pink nipples
that capped her mounds. It was a lot more than he had ever seen
of Cousin Alice.
"Ain’t they some set of titties," said Rourke as he reached
out to touch them.
"Don’t touch me, you Yankee scum!" Ashley yelled out, using
language she had never imagined she would ever use.
"Figures a rebel bitch like you would have a foul mouth,"
Rourke laughed as he roughly grabbed her breast, pressing his
thumbnail against the nipple. "Well I have something that I can
use to fill that mouth and shut you up."
To illustrate his point, Rourke grabbed his crotch with his
free hand and pumped his erect cock a few times through his
pants. Ashley’s face turned pale.
The thought of the Sergeant’s manhood being used in the
manner he indicated, terrified her. Once, right after she had first
been married, she'd heard her brothers talking about a girl in the
back woods who did such a thing with her mouth. At the time,
Ashley had refused to believe it could be true.
"I bet you’re one of those southern girls who prefers her
darkies, aren’t you?" the crass soldier said, assuming that all
southerners owned slaves. "Just like your men prefer their nigger
wenches. Well I’m going to show you what it’s like to be fucked by
a white man. Then when I’m done, you can give the boy a turn too."
Unable to do more than scream in anger, and unwilling to give
the Yankees the satisfaction of hearing her do just that, Ashley
closed her eyes and tried to bear the unbearable. They might be
able to degrade her body, but they couldn’t defile her mind.
Pushing Butler out of the way, Rourke took up position
between Ashley’s legs. His rough hands slid up her legs, taking in
the softness of her skin. Butler watched as his Sergeant’s hands
disappeared under the faded dress, gripping the sides of an equally
worn undergarment. With strength born of lust, he ripped the
material until he could pull it off her body. Ashley bit her lip as she
tried to show no reaction.
He pushed up her dress to expose her womanhood. The
younger man leaned over to look over the Sergeant’s shoulder at
the bushy brown mound between Ashley’s legs. He watched in
fascination as Butler took his hand and rubbed it hard against her
mound, pushing two fingers up inside her.
"Goddamn it, you’re a dry bitch," Rourke said as his fingers
encountered an unexpected friction. "Well that’s just too bad for
you."
Inwardly, Ashley felt a small measure of satisfaction. Even
if it was harder on her, she was thankful that her body hadn’t
betrayed her. She wouldn't watch as Rourke opened his pants and
pulled them down to his ankles. He opened his long underwear to
expose his manhood, rubbing it a few times once it was free.
Raising his hand to his face, he spit on it a few times, filling the
palm with his saliva.
He brought it to his cock, rubbing the makeshift lubricant
over the head of it. An evil leer filled his face as he guided his
cock to the entrance of her womanhood, pressing against it.
Putting all of his weight behind it, he pushed his way inside her.
Ashley screamed, this was an assault she couldn’t ignore.
The cry of pain only seemed to excite her rapist even more.
Grabbing both of her legs, he began to thrust in and out of her
with a savage fury. It was far worse then her first time,
for Stephen had been the gentlest of lovers.
"Sarge, did you hear something?" Butler asked as he turned
in the direction of the kitchen window.
"It’s just the fucking horses," Rourke angrily snapped back
at him for interrupting his fun. "Now shut up or I won’t let you
have a turn at this Reb whore."
The thought that he might lose his chance to be with a
woman bothered Butler greatly, but not as much as the chance
that Captain Rossi or one of the other patrols might discover them.
Rossi had some mighty particular ideas about how the Rebels
should be treated after the surrender that everyone said was
coming soon. As much as he wanted to be with a woman, the
nineteen-year-old didn’t want to pay for it at the end of a rope.
Finally, deciding Rourke wouldn’t even notice his absence,
Butler decided to step outside and make sure everything was all
right. He’d be back before Rourke knew it.
As quiet as he could, although he figured Rourke wouldn’t
hear a Calvary charge right now, the Private undid the lock of the
door that let to the outside from the kitchen. As he did, he began
to draw his pistol from its holster. He had only opened the door an
inch or two when it suddenly slammed back into him with enough
force to knock him off his feet.
The sudden motion of Butler falling, more than the noise he
made as he crashed among the pots and pans, caused Rourke to
stop and look up. It took him a long moment to register the image
in front of him, not realizing it would be the last thing he ever
saw.
In the two seconds left to him, the soldier in Rourke
recognized the weapon pointing in his direction from a few feet
away as an 1860 blue steel army revolver. He remembered the
fact that it fired a 44 caliber round less than a half second before
one of those bullets shattered the left side of his skull.
The force of the close range shot was enough to send the
already dead sergeant tumbling away from Ashley and onto the
floor. Half of his brains were scattered across the kitchen walls
and the manhood that he was been so proud of had already wilted
into insignificance.
Stunned both by his fall and the loud, deafening explosion
that had followed it, Private Butler looked up and saw a smoky
figure in butternut and gray. He brought up his own pistol to fire,
but was already dead before his finger could close on the trigger.
The second shot from the Confederate revolver had passed right
through his heart. From the time the door had first burst open on
Butler, to the time his heart abruptly stopped, only eight seconds
had passed.
Giving the second corpse no more thought than the first, the
new arrival turned to Ashley. Only now was she aware that
something had happened. She looked up and saw that another
had taken Rourke’s place at the foot of the table. It took a
second for her to focus, then she recognized the face as belonging
to the youngest of the Confederate soldiers she had given food and
water to this afternoon.
"I had come back for my haversack," he said in a low quiet
voice.
A large knife appeared in the young man’s hand, the type of
which Ashley had once seen a drawing of in the newspaper. Her
husband had said it was called a Bowie knife. The new arrival
looked down at the brunette’s exposed sex for a brief moment,
just long enough to see that the Yankee soldier had died
unsatisfied. Then with a practiced precision, he cut Ashley free.
"Oh God," she gasped as she looked down and saw the
bloody bodies of her two attackers.
"It’s no more than they deserved," her rescuer said
unemotionally.
For a moment, Ashley wondered how he could be so cold,
then realized that having been in the army, the young man had
probably seen death on a scale as to make what just happened here
seem insignificant.
"Thank you," Ashley managed to say, holding down the bile
she felt in her throat.
The soldier merely shrugged and nodded an acknowledgment.
Then he said. "They were either scouts or stragglers so I doubt
they’ll be missed for a while. But we need to get rid of the bodies
right away, just in case."
As he stepped closer to the window to glance out it, Ashley
got her first really good look at him. As it was this afternoon, a
layer of dirt covered both his clothes and his face, but she could
see enough to reconfirm her earlier thoughts.
"He can’t be more than a boy," she said to herself, "sixteen
years old at most."
Then she reminded herself that whatever his age, he had
just killed two men in less time then it took him to think about it.
It also occurred to her that despite her state of near undress, the
top of her dress had been ripped enough to give him a good look at
her breasts.
That is if he cared to look, which he seemingly didn't. An
omission that surprised Ashley. She excused herself for a few
minutes while she changed into a fresh but equally worn dress.
As she helped him carry the bodies outside, thankful that he
had first covered Sergeant Rourke’s face, or what was left of it,
with a blanket, Ashley learned what had happened.
Splitting off from his companions, the young man, whose
name she now learned was John Warren, had doubled back to the
farm to look for the haversack he had finally realized he'd lost.
When you only own what you carry on you, he explained, the little
you had became all the more important. The boy was an orphan she
further learned, and was eighteen despite his looks. The letters in
his bag had been his last connection with his parents.
When he reached the fence at the road, he’d seen the two
horses tied up outside. During the last two years he'd seen the
accoutrements on them enough times to know they belonged to
Yankee cavalry. He made his way to the house, carefully looking
into the kitchen window. That had been the noise Butler had
heard.
If he’d reacted better to his instincts, John had
commented, Private Butler might be the one still alive. Still
recovering from the shock of everything that had happened,
Ashley didn’t want to think about where she might be right now if
the outcome of the situation had been reversed.
"I’ve tied them to their horses," John said. "I’ll take them
about a mile or two down the road and cut the horses loose. With
luck, they’ll be far away from here before anyone finds them."
"I wish we could keep those horses," Ashley said, her mind
always trying to be practical and remembering that earlier Federal
patrols had taken what few horses they'd had. "They’d be a big
help around here."
"They carry US Army brands," John said, pointing to the
small mark on the closest horse. "No quicker way to a noose than
to be found with one of those."
Ashley realized he was right.
"Will you come back after you're done?" Ashley asked as
John climbed up on the back of the horse carrying the smaller
body of Private Butler and started to lead the two horses away.
The young soldier looked at her for a moment, a puzzled look
on his face.
"So we can find your haversack," Ashley said. "It’ll be dark
soon enough and we won’t be able to look for it until morning’s
light," she lied.
Remembering the task that had brought him back to the
farm, John said he would be back in a few hours. Ashley waited
until be was gone from sight before she headed to the well to
get the haversack and the bucket she had left there. She would
need the water to clean up what was left of the late unlamented
Sergeant Virgil Rourke off her kitchen walls.
Long into the night, Ashley waited for the return of the
young soldier. As the hours passed, it got so late she fell asleep in
her chair. By the time she awakened to the morning's light, she
was sure something had happened to him. A feeling of sadness
filled her as she thought of the young man lying hurt or dead along
the road somewhere. Or worse, caught by the Yankee Cavalry with
the dead bodies of two of their own.
Worried as she was, there were still chores that needed to
be done. That was if she wanted to go on eating yet another day.
Pouring cold water into a bowl, she splashed it on her face and set
out to face the day.
All through the day, and halfway through the next night,
Ashley would pause in her labors and look for John. By the time
she finally went to sleep that night, she resigned herself to the
fact that he wasn't coming back.
About eleven o'clock in the morning on the second day since
John had left, Ashley said a prayer over the graves of her parents.
As was her habit, she laid what wildflowers she could find by their
small stones.
She missed them terribly, her father most of all. She could
still hear his voice when she closed her eyes at night, telling her
the stories he told her as a little girl. Stories of the old country
that his own parents had told him when he was young. Her
favorites were his tales of the little people, and how he always
promised her that some day she might find one of their treasures
and live happily ever after.
"This land is my treasure, Papa," she said to the empty air.
"And I'll never let anyone take it from me."
The sudden sound of a horse at the front of the house
caused Ashley to jump to her feet, interrupting her prayer and
vow. It seemed these days, horses usually meant Yankees.
Having learned her lesson in a way that would never again be
far from her mind, Ashley now made sure her daddy's rifle was
never far from her side. Making sure it was set and loaded, she
rushed back to the house around to the front entrance.
To her relief, there was but a single horseman. More so, the
coat he wore was far from Union Blue. Her face filled with joy as
she saw the face of the rider.
"John!" she cried out as she lowered the gun and ran around
to the side of the horse.
She stopped cold for a second when she saw the ripped leg
of his trousers and the dark red bloodstains on the dirty material.
"Oh God," she cried even louder, "You're hurt!"
"They just nicked me a little," he said as tried to dismount,
only to practically fall into her arms.
Thankfully, John was small enough for Ashley to carry him
into the house. She doubted that he would've been able to make it
on his own. Carefully, she led him to the small bed she'd made up
in the living room.
"Let me look at this," she said as she grabbed the bowl of
water she had poured earlier and dipped a clean rag into it.
John's assessment that they had only nicked him turned out
to be true. The wound in his lower calf had been bloody for a
while, but was already clotted. Carefully she washed it and then
wrapped his leg in a bandaged she had boiled clean.
"What happened?" she asked, now that she was sure he
wasn't badly injured.
"It's over," he replied, a touch of deep sadness in his voice.
"What's over?" Ashley asked, clearing away the bowl and
washrag.
"Lee surrendered to Grant two days ago," John explained,
"At some place up by the Appomattox River."
"Two days ago," Ashley said, wondering if Sergeant Rourke
and Private Butler had known that. Not that it really mattered.
"But how did you get shot?"
"After I got rid of the bodies, I started back along the
Wilshire Road," John began, sitting up on the edge of the bed. " I
came across some more dead Federals. From the look of it, they'd
only been dead an hour or so. Old habits die hard, I guess, so I
checked them for anything I could use."
Ashley recalled him doing the same with the two soldiers the
day before. He had left whatever food he had found in their sacks
with her.
"I found this bag on a Yankee Major," he said, indicating the
worn pouch he'd strapped to his body, "and I guess I was so tired
by that point that I didn't hear the patrol that came up behind
me."
He handed the bag to Ashley who was surprised to find it
very heavy. More concerned about her new friend that some war
booty, she put in down alongside the bed.
"Two of the dead men were in civilian clothes. I don't know
if they were Southerners or Yankee scouts. One of their horses
was still there, and it didn't carry no Yankee Army brand. I
jumped on the horse and took off, just as that bunch of blue
bellies came up on me. I guess they figured I was the one that
bushwhacked the dead Major."
"Thank God you managed to get away," Ashley said in relief
as she wiped some of the grime from his face.
"Hasn't been a Yankee born that could catch me once I'm on
a horse," John said with a touch of pride. "Course they can get
lucky once and a while, that's how I got this," he added, indicating
his injured leg.
"Well you're safe now," she said as she stood up, a memory
of her beloved Stephen boasting of his horsemanship in much the
same way. Until the day a lucky shot had ended all of their dreams.
"You just rest now."
"But I wanted to tell you ab ..."
"I said you just rest," Ashley repeated in the tone she used
to use when she cared for her younger brothers. "There'll be
plenty of time to talk later."
On top of the long hike after he'd disposed of the bodies,
John had been in the saddle for almost a day, avoiding the Federal
Patrols that seemed to be everywhere. Once he finally gave in to
the wisdom of her forceful suggestion, he slept for the rest of the
day.
The sun had already set by the time John finally stirred.
Ashley had made a stew out of vegetables from her garden and a
squirrel she had managed to catch. Compared to the hard biscuits
he had been living on, John considered the simple fare a feast.
After dinner, Ashley had carried enough water from the well
to at least half fill the tin bathtub that her husband had sent all
the way to Baltimore for as a anniversary gift. She started to help
John undress, but he quickly objected to the idea.
"Don't be stubborn," she admonished him. "I was a married
woman and I helped raise two younger brothers. I've seem what a
man looks like under all that filth. Let me help you, you're hurt."
"I'll manage," John insisted.
"Men!" Ashley said as she threw up her hands in resignation
and left him to bathe alone. "Just make sure you don't get that
bandage wet," she added.
While John bathed, Ashley had found some of Robert's old
clothes. They might not be a perfect fit, but at least they were
clean. Averting her eyes in deference to John's silly need for
modesty, the twenty-three-year-old opened the door to the small
washroom halfway and pushed the pants and shirt inside.
John emerged a while later, looking cleaner than he'd
probably been in weeks. With his blond hair cropped short and his
face lacking even the semblance of facial hair, he now looked even
more like the teenage boy Ashley had first taken him to be.
Robert’s clothes were a little loose on him, so he'd use a small
piece of rope as a make shift belt.
Despite his earlier rest, he was still a little tired. Ashley
insisted he take the bed, and in this case he was too drained to
argue. They talked for a while and learned a little more about each
other. Ashley told him of her life and how she had lost her
husband and two brothers in the war. When she mentioned her
younger brothers who were serving out west, John said he shared
her hope that they might have survived. Inwardly, having seen so
many of his comrades’ fall as much to disease and infection as
enemy action, he thought it was more than likely that they hadn't.
John in turn described how he had grown up on a farm that
was smaller, but otherwise not too different than this one. His
parents had been much poorer than Ashley's, but still they
managed to have a fair life. He'd joined up with the militia as had
all the other young men in the district. It had made his father so
proud when he had first come home in his uniform. A few months
later, one of the neighbors had written him to say that both his
parents had died of the fever.
When Ashley inquired about any brothers or sisters, since it
was unusual for a farm family to have only a single child, John
reluctantly explained that his mother had such a hard time with
his birth that the local doctor said that another pregnancy might
kill her. Something in that answer seemed to increase the fatigue
that he felt and he faded off to sleep soon after.
Sitting in her Grandmother's rocker as she watched John
sleep, Ashley began to find herself filled with long buried stirrings.
Aside from the incident with the Yankee soldiers, which she
considered an act of violence rather than passion, it had been
almost two lonely years since she'd been with a man. There had
been nights she had given in to temptation and pleasured herself,
but it really didn't compare with having a warm body pressed
against hers.
John was more boy than man in many ways, she said to
herself, yet he was already older than she had been on her wedding
night. Additionally, if you factored in the life he'd led, and what
he had seem in his short years, then he was almost older than
Stephen had been the night they'd first made love.
"Listen to me," the twenty-three-year-old chided herself in
response to her thoughts. "Next I'll be telling myself he deserves
a reward for saving my life."
Deep down however, Ashley knew that whatever the reason
she finally gave herself, she didn't have the strength of will to
continue her long abstinence. There had been too many empty
nights to let a chance for a brief happiness to pass.
Ashley rose from the chair and undid the ribbon that held
back her hair. She shook her hair loose and then used her hands to
straighten it as best she could. Reaching behind her back, she
undid the few buttons that held her dress together. She laid her
dress on the chair, following it a minute later with her
undergarments.
The dim light of the remnants of the fire illuminated her
nude form as she ran her hands up and down her body, stopping as
she cupped her breasts. Her mounds, like the rest of her body,
were no longer as firm as they once were. Too many days of hard
work and missed meals had taken their toll. Still, she was sure
John wouldn't be disappointed.
Lifting the blanket she had draped over him, Ashley climbed
into the bed and pressed her body next to his. She wrapped her
arms around him, drawing him to her. For the moment, she was
content just to share his warmth. With a feeling of comfort she
had so missed, Ashley closed her eyes and drifted to sleep.
Ashley awoke hours later, the light of the spring Moon filling
the room. John's presence next to her felt so welcome that she
was now sure she was doing the right thing. Softly she kissed his
cheek, then ran her hand across his body. Silently, she undid his
rope belt to give his borrowed pants enough slack to allow her hand
to slide inside.
Her fingers reached between his legs as a look of confusion
filled her face.
"I'm afraid you're not going to find what you're looking for,"
a now awake John said.
"What happened to you?" a confused Ashley asked as she
quickly withdrew her hand.
"Nothing at all," John said. "I'm as normal as you."
"As normal as ..." Ashley started to say when the obvious
suddenly occurred to her.
"That's right," John confirmed the look of understanding on
Ashley's face.
"But you were in the Army."
"My father was devastated that his only child was born a
girl," John explained as if it was the most natural thing in the
world. "So to please him, my Mama raised me to be his son."
"And all your time in the Army," a curious Ashley asked, "no
one ever suspected?"
"I just kept away from the doctors, what little good some of
them were," John went on. "Thankfully I was never hurt bad
enough to have anyone examine me too closely."
"None of the other soldiers ever ..."
"I don't exactly have the same sort of body as you do," said
the young woman. "The kind that draws men like honey does flies."
Ashley recalled that the uniform John had worn was almost
as baggy as the clothes she had lent her. Whatever small bosom it
concealed, it was practically unnoticeable.
"With all those men around, you never felt ..." The older
woman paused for the right word to describe what she herself had
felt at that age "desires."
"Being raised as a boy, I never did feel toward other boys
what girls are supposed to feel," John concluded. "And the only
man who ever tried to put his hands on me was an old Sergeant a
year or so back. And that was because he thought I was a boy. I
never gave him the chance to find out otherwise."
Remembering what she, Ashley had to force herself to think
of John as that, had done to the two Union soldiers, she shuddered
to think what had happened to the sodomite inclined Sergeant.
"It's all so unbelievable," Ashley said.
"I guess that sort of changes your plans for tonight," John
apologized. "I'm sorry."
"It doesn't have to," Ashley said, a mischievous gleam in her
eye.
Years ago, when Ashley had been at Miss Thompson's School
for Young Ladies, she had learned a marvelous secret. Fourteen
and filled with the urges that came with emerging womanhood, she
had been taught by one of the older girls a lesson in how to deal
with those newly discovered drives. It was a lesson that definitely
hadn't been part of the school's curriculum.
The girl, whose name she remembered was Leslie Ann
Barnes, was two years older than Ashley. One cold winter night,
long after Miss Thompson and the rest of the staff had retired
for the evening, Leslie had slipped into Ashley's room. With a
gentle hand, the older girl had taught her how to satisfy those
urges in a way that would allow her to go to her future wedding
bed still a virgin.
In the months that had followed, Ashley spent many quiet
nights exploring both her body and that of Leslie, learning how to
both receive and give pleasure. In time, those sessions grew to
also include some of the other girls that Leslie had taught. Only
her summons home the following summer to help care for her
younger brothers after her Mother's passing ended the sharing
aspect of her special education. At least until she married
Stephen.
"Do you trust me?" Ashley asked John.
"Yes," she answered.
"Then just relax and let me show you something I learned
when I was about your age. Something wondrous."
Ashley unbuttoned her brother's borrowed shirt,
discovering a thick bandage wrapped around John's chest, an
important part of her male identity. Carefully she undid the
covering until John's small breasts were exposed to the warm
night air.
Ashley thought they were so much nicer than her own, firm
and compact with bright pink nipples at the center. She ran her
fingers over both nipples, feeling them grow hard at her touch.
"Mmmm," John moaned at the first touch of a hand not her
own. "That feels nice."
"I know things that feel even nicer," Ashley smiled,
remembering the nights spent with Leslie.
An expression long absent appeared on John's face and an
emotion thought dead filled her breast. An emotion called Joy.
Ashley kissed the tips of John's small breasts, tickling them
with her tongue. All the while her fingers massaged the soft flesh
around them, sending a tingling sensation across the younger girl's
chest.
John was wrong, Ashley decided, when she insinuated that
the she had an unattractive body. True, she hadn't been gifted
with those attributes that men so prized, but out of her filthy
uniform and cleaned of all the grime, she was very cute.
As she continued to play with John's breasts, Ashley
became aware of John's hands on her own. The smaller girl began
hesitantly touching the larger mounds.
"It's all right if you want to play with them," Ashley
laughed. "In fact I'd like it if you did. I'd like it even more if you
kissed them."
John's eyes lit up as she brought her head down to Ashley's
bosom and began licking and kissing the warm flesh. If anything,
Ashley thought, she resembled an even younger girl suddenly
playing with a new toy.
"You're doing very well," Ashley complimented. "Just kiss
them like you were kissing someone's lips."
"I've never done that," John said as she suddenly stopped
what she was doing.
"You've never kissed anyone?" a surprised Ashley asked.
"Just my Mama and Papa," John answered, "but I don't
think that really counts, does it?"
"No dear, it doesn't," Ashley said, thinking that she had
kissed her first boy at thirteen.
Yet when she thought about it, Ashley shouldn't had been
surprised at John's admission. After all, growing up masquerading
as a boy, who would she have had the chance to kiss.
"Well that's something we'll have to change right now."
Ashley sat John up on the bed and pressed their lips gently
together. It was a brief kiss, the kind John had seen her parents
give each other hundreds of times.
"That was nice," John said as their lips parted. "Can we do it
again?"
"Of course," Ashley promised, "but this time, I want you to
open your lips. You're going to feel my tongue in your mouth.
When you do, I want you to tickle it with your tongue. Do you
understand?"
"I think so," said John, now eager to try anything Ashley
suggested.
As their lips touched, then opened to allow their tongues
entry, Ashley remembered the first time she had tried this with
Leslie. Back then, she had been the one in John's position. To her
delight, the excitement of the moment was no less with the
situation reversed.
They kissed three more times, each embrace longer than the
last. A world never imagined was opening for John, one that she
wanted to explore to the fullest.
They kissed a fourth time as Ashley totally undid John's
belt and help her out of her pants. The girl wore no underwear.
Ashley didn't remember seeing any when she had earlier taken
away her dirty clothes. The question of how John handled her time
of the month came to mind, but she quickly dismissed it as a
question she could always ask later.
Ashley's hand, now much rougher than she would've liked it
because of all the labor she did daily, moved between John's legs.
No longer surprised by what she found there, she quickly found
that most sensitive of spots and began rubbing it with her fingers.
"Oh, that is wonderful," John gushed, remembering
Ashley's earlier promise.
"Is it better like this?" Ashley asked as she moved her
fingers in a different way. "Or do you like to do it like this
instead?"
"I've never done this either," John said.
This, Ashley found harder to believe than the fact that
John had never kissed before. How could a woman, even a hidden
one, not even accidentally discovered the pleasures her own body
was capable of. Even before her first night with Leslie, Ashley had
know that it felt good when she touched herself there.
Yet John insisted that it was true. She knew that men could
pleasure themselves. Many times, late at night she had heard
fellow soldiers moaning in pleasure as they played with their cocks.
The first time she had heard it, she had quietly crept close enough
to actually see what her fellow soldier was doing to produce such a
reaction. Knowing that she lacked the equipment to do that to
herself, she wrongly assumed that only men could do it. In her
sheltered life, she had never known a woman who could tell her
different.
"You actually watched a man play with himself?" Ashley
asked, thinking that she had not even seen her husband do that.
He would've been too embarrassed to have let her watch.
John replied that she had watched it a few times. It had
fascinated her. Even more shocking to Ashley, but seemingly just
part of army life to John, the young woman described watching
men perform on each other the same unspeakable act that
Sergeant Rourke had threatened Ashley with.
Once, John added, she had even seen an older soldier couple
with a younger one in the way men normally joined with a woman.
It was from that example that John had immediately understood
what the older man had in mind when he tried to lure her into a
similar secluded spot.
The thought that men might orally please each other
brought a totally new thought to Ashley. Could a woman do that to
another woman? The idea of doing that to any man, even her late
husband made Ashley ill. Yet the prospect of trying it on the
young woman sharing her bed filled her with excitement.
"John," she asked softly, "what those men did to each other
with their mouths, would it bother you if I tried that with you?"
John immediately agreed. In her simple way of thinking, she
reasoned that if women could please each other with their hands
the same way she had seen men do, they use their mouths as well.
Ashley parted John's legs over the side of the bed and got
down on her own knees. She brushed the thick bush of hair
covering the smaller girls mound, then moved her face close enough
to kiss it. Following her own earlier advice to John, she kissed it as
if she was kissing a lover on the lips, pressings her tongue deep
between the folds of the teen's womanhood.
The effect on both of them was immediate and electric as
they shared a bond deeper than either had ever known. Not even
Leslie in their most passionate embrace had ever suggested
anything like this.
Using her fingers in conjunction with her tongue, Ashley
brought pleasures to the girl on the bed that John had never
imagined. Pleasures that Ashley joined in as the nectars of John's
excitement filled her mouth.
Time passed and the strength of those pleasures grew until
the smaller girl felt her body convulse with an intensity she had
only seen in men dying on the battlefield. Only in this case, the joy
of life rather than the despair of death now consumed her body.
"What happened to me?" John asked breathlessly as her
body stopped quaking.
"You had a climax," Ashley said as she sat next to John, her
own heart beating almost as rapidly.
"A climax?" John repeated, unsure of the meaning of the
new word. "Is that the same as those men playing with themselves
had?"
"Yes, my dear, it was."
"Then I think a climax is the most wondrous thing of all."
Ashley just smiled, she wasn't going to contest that point.
Nor was she going to argue a few moments later when John asked
if she could try and do the same thing to her.
For someone with far less experience than Ashley in matters
of the flesh, John proved to be naturally quite skilled at their
mutual new discovery. In less time than it had taken Ashley, the
just deflowered virgin brought the older woman to a rousing climax
of her own. It wasn't as good as some of those she remembered
with her husband, but it was far superior than any by her own
hand. Still, she reminded herself, this was new to both of them
and would undoubtedly get better in the future. That is if there
was a future beyond the morning dawn.
That thought brought Ashley back to reality. In less than a
few days, she had gone from a deep emptiness to a sudden
immersion into the horrors of war. Then, just as quickly, she had
found comfort and caring in the arms of someone who had
delivered her from that horror.
"John," she said as she held the younger woman's hand,
"are you planning to leave here soon?"
The short haired blond seemed to consider the question for
the longest time. The longer she took, the more Ashley feared
what her answer might be.
"I really have no place to go," John replied. "If you'd let me,
I'd really like to stay."
Ashley's heart filled with an elation she had not known in
years. Elation cut short when she saw a look of concern on John's
face.
"What's wrong?" she said, thinking that John might have
misinterpreted the question as a desire by Ashley for her to leave.
"Of course I want you to stay."
"I was just thinking that I'll never be a lady like you are,"
came her reply. "I've spent too much of my life trying to be a man.
I don't know how to be anything else."
"That doesn't matter," Ashley said rapidly, her excitement
causing her to trip over her words. "I don't care if you live as a
man or a woman. Just so long as you live as my lover. We'll sort all
of the rest out as we go."
"Then of course I'll stay," John said. "I want to stay with
you forever."
"It won't be easy," Ashley said, "there are hard times
ahead."
As full as her heart was at this moment, with the
excitement of new love, long years of hardship caused Ashley never
to forget her practical side. She didn't want John to make a
decision in the afterglow of their lust that she would come to
regret later.
"I know that you know what it means to be a farmer," she
said, "how rough life it can be. But just in case you've forgotten,
it's very different than being in the Army. The enemy isn't
someone you can shoot back at. It's the rains and the lack of it at
times. It's watching your crop die and not having enough to eat, or
money to buy what you can't raise or make yourself."
"I haven't forgotten that," John said, remembering the
hard times on her parent's farm. She also remembered how the
love they shared had gotten them through the worse of times."
"All that I have, what little it is, I want to share with you.
However, most of what I have is sorrow and an uncertain future. I
want you to consider all of that before you decide."
"All right," John said after a few moments reflection. "I've
thought about it. I'll stay under one condition. Just as you want
to share all that you have with me, then I want to share all that I
have with you."
"Of course," Ashley agreed, knowing that all that John
owned was what she carried on her back. It was obvious to her
that John had said it just to feel like an equal. "We'll share
everything."
"Then this," John said as she picked up off the floor the
knapsack she had taken off the Union Officer and dropped it
between her and Ashley, "is my contribution."
Ashley had totally forgotten about the bag of which John
had been so excited about this morning. Curiosity overwhelmed
her as John indicated that she should open the bag.
The straps quickly gave way and Ashley pulled back the thick
flap. Her eyes opened wide and a sense of disbelief filled her.
"Mother of God!" Ashley gasped as she looked into the sack.
Filled to the rim of the large bag were Federal twenty-dollar
gold pieces.
"Are these real?" she said, realizing that there had to be a
small fortune.
"As real as you and I sitting here," John smiled.
"I can't believe it," Ashley said.
They sat there in silence for the longest time. Ashley was
too stunned to say anything. Although her family had led a
comfortable life before the war, they, like most of their
neighbors, had always been cash poor. In the dark times ahead,
these coins could be worth twenty times their prewar worth. Used
carefully used, they could be the difference between life and
death.
"We have to hide these," Ashley finally said. "So that no
one else knows we have them."
John smiled at her use of the word "we", a sign that she
already thought of them as belonging together. A sign that after
all those long months of just surviving to the next day, both John
and Ashley had a reason to think about the day beyond tomorrow.
"We can hide them in the morning," the younger girl said as
she closed the bag and reset it on the floor. "Right now, I want to
try all those things you showed me again."
The two of them fell back into the bed, locked in each
other's arms. For the briefest of moments, just before she felt
the touch of John's lips against her own, Ashley thought she heard
the voice of her father.
"Ashley, my darling," she could hear him say across the
years through a little girl's memory. "May you someday find the
treasure of the wee people, and with it the love and happiness that
I wish for all your days."
And so they did, for all the days that followed. Even long
after both Robert and Noah finally came home and met Ashley's
new husband.
END
(c) Ann Douglas 2000
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