Bunker Pt 3

Ø The Time Machine

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§ A. Making the trip

With the prospect of finding a real time travel machine close at hand, we discussed what we would do with the machine. I told them what I knew about Brantwell's travels, how I thought the machine worked, and where we could go. Different motives for traveling surfaced immediately. Andrea and Sue wanted to go in hopes of finding out more about who killed Lucy. Bert and Ernie were interested because time travel sounded more interesting than their routine lives.

I was all for going to the warehouse immediately and looking for the Machine, but cooler heads prevailed. Bert reminded me about the guards. Sue pointed that we didn't have any appropriate clothing for the Wild West. The clothes slowed me down more than the guards. The diaries had notes about the importance of blending in with the local culture and the lethal consequences if this went wrong.

It took us almost a week to get everything together. Andrea found costumes from an amateur theater group and some friends that were re-enactors. Bert collected the camping gear, Ernie got the food, and Sue brought two pistols. During the week I scouted around for a likely place to break in to Victory Station.

Breaking in was no easy matter. Victory Station is surrounded by a double chain row of chain link fences, both topped with razor wire, fifteen feet a part. Vehicle patrols rode around the perimeter and inspected sites at random intervals. All designed to keep people out. The only way to get in was to never leave. Our plan was to show up to work with our stuff on Friday, visit Hole-in-the-Wall over the weekend, and show up Monday morning ready to punch the clock.

Since we couldn't leave our cars in the parking lot over the weekend, we all rode the bus on Friday. It was pouring rain, which was good for us. The guards were less likely to inspect the shuttle buses and everyone was walking around covered by umbrellas and coats. Our gym bags were full of clothes and gear. Sue and Andrea, armed with fake IDs, kept their heads buried in their coats. We held our breath going through the gate. No search, so far so good. Getting to the admin area, we signed in and got on a shuttle bus.

Ernie led us off the bus and into the warehouse bunker she thought the Time Machine was in. Bert took Sue and Andrea to hide in one of the tunnels as Ernie and I located the crate. It was still were Ernie last saw it, sitting alone and neglected in the midst of a scattering of crates and boxes. We opened one side and I crawled in. Quickly Ernie resealed the crate and left me to inspect the Machine while she hid with the others.

I sat in the dark for a moment, feeling the cold metal cage against my forehead. I laboriously crawled around the bottom of the crate, feeling above my head for the door catch. Luckily I was close and sprang the hinge, pushing the door inward. Standing up in the door of the Time Machine, I turned on my flashlight and took my first look at Brantwell's most miraculous invention. The Time Machine looked like a wire mesh sphere with a silver metal birdbath in the middle.

Using the project files, I studied the birdbath-looking console. Using the necklace I probed the crystal and was shocked to see a blue glow emanate from the console. Quickly, I stopped, I needed to wait for the others and save my strength. I set the dials to the settings that would take us to Hole-in-the-Wall, turned off my light, and got some sleep.

I was in the middle of my second nap when the sound of Bert and Sue removing the top of the crate woke me up. Shining the flashlight at Bert, he cheerfully explained that it was less likely that anyone would notice the top was un-nailed than if we removed a side. His enthusiasm for adventure was contagious and the rest of the group crawled into the Time Machine ready to go and in good spirits. It was more like taking a road trip to another city than a plunge into the unknown to another world.

As everyone put their gym bags under the seat, I told them to relax and touch the center column. The metal felt cold under their fingertips. I flipped the switch and everyone felt a tingling sensation traveling up their arms. The tingling enveloped us bringing with it a feeling of disorientation and dizziness. Ernie and Andrea fainted, slumping against the central pedestal. I concentrated harder, willing the blue glow to intensify and expand. Bert and Sue struggled to keep their feet as they fought the urge to black out. My eyes lost focus. The world went dark.

§ Welcome to Fry, Arizona Territory

We awoke to find ourselves in a rocky desert. The machine had landed, if that is the right term, against a large rock and tipped sideways. I helped pull the others from the machine and climbed to the mouth of the canyon to see where we were.

From the canyon, I looked down on a small village. We had done it. I could tell that this was Hole-in-the-Wall.

I turned to the group and said, "This is it. That town must be Fry. We've done it!"

We pulled our costumes out of our 20^th century gym bags and got ready to join the Wild West. It was then that I remembered what we'd forgotten. Water. We must either go into town for water or go straight back to our own time.

We looked as clueless as we felt. I just hoped no one had the sense to ask us what 5 people were doing out in the desert and why we were on foot. I walked along, frantically trying to come up with a cover story, approaching the small clump of buildings the Brantwell diaries had called Fry. If we had done everything correctly, we were in a parallel world that approximated mid-1800s Arizona. The only problem I had was that Brantwell had also wrote that time moved here at the same pace as it had done in our home world. This meant that everything Brantwell and his researchers knew about this world was thirty years old.

I told everyone to keep their eyes open and stick together. We had only planned this as a fact finding mission, the real search would begin once we knew a little more about the mechanics of Time Travel. We wandered toward the town, as inconspicuous as five people can be. Entering the town from the south, we had almost reached the middle of town when three drunken cowboys tumbled out of a building and into the street. Two of them shared a bottle while the third pulled his pistol from its holster and started shooting at a tethered dog.

Before I could stop her, Sue rushed across the street and hit the drunken shooter. Suddenly realizing that they weren't alone in the street, the other two cowboys drew their pistols and pointed them at Sue. The cowboy Sue hit got back to his feet and unsteadily advanced on the rest of the group. It was a classic Mexican standoff. There were more of us but they had guns. We all froze in the middle of the street waiting for someone to blink. Or shoot. Or die.

Just when the cowboys were concentrating on us, Sue disabled one of her captors with a quick kick and yelled for us to run. Bert and Ernie turned and ran back the way we came. I saw them dodge into a barn as I took off running. To my left, Andrea ducked into the back of a nearby building. The cowboys watched us scatter with frustration as they had their hands full wrestling with Sue.

I ran across the street into the hotel. Looking around the hotel, I desperately searched for a hiding place. I spotted a door toward the back of the lobby and moved quickly towards it. Trying to look like I belonged there, I opened the door and stepped inside.

Turning and slumping against the door frame, I suddenly realized I wasn't alone in the room. The other person was a tan, green-eyed brunette. She was one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. As she stepped from the inner room, she saw me and froze. Watching her I realized that she must have heard me enter and been expecting someone else. Who ever that was, he was one lucky guy because she was stark naked.

"Wha da hell jew want?" Her heavy Mexican accent made it hard for me to understand her, but it forced me to concentrate on something other than her marvelous tits. She reached back inside to the other room.

I stammered an apology and tried to leave. I turned to open the door but froze at the metallic sound of her cocking a pistol. I turned back toward her slowly, making sure to keep my hands visible and away from my body. She stood in the other doorway unsuccessfully trying to cover herself with one hand, the other being occupied with pointing a large revolver at my chest.

Thinking quickly, I remembered that I was wearing the necklace. My biggest problem was buying enough time to use it. I held my hands out away from his body, signaling my peaceful intentions. At the same time, I slid inside her mind and started activating her basic sexual instincts. I didn't have time for romantic seduction so I resolved to use primal lust instead.

I slowly moved across the room, intensifying the sensations of desire in her mind. My thoughts made her think that she wanted me more than any other man she'd ever known. I hammered the erotic centers of her mind. She would have died right there if I had told her she couldn't have my cock.

I saw her nipples swell and her breath start to come more raggedly, but the huge black muzzle never wavered from my chest. I continued to advance toward her. Confused, she walked backward into the bedroom. I knew that everything in her mind was telling her to do something: scream for help, shoot me, anything. Instead her body was screaming with heat, the need to mate with me like an animal.

She backed into a chair and fell into it. The pistol lay loosely in her hand on the chair arm. I knelt in front her and parted her thighs. The pistol almost touched my forehead but one look at her lust swollen labia told me she wouldn't use it. I leaned forward and licked her pussy like my life depended on it, stopping only when she tugged me from her crotch by my hair and told me to fuck her.

Our coupling was fierce. I had opened a door that had been closed in this woman's mind, one that she had strained against for years. Casting down the walls of Victorian propriety, my newfound lover was a sexual dynamo. The atmosphere of the moment spurred me like a powerful aphrodisiac. I don't know what turned me on more: the power I had over her, her incredible physical beauty, or the fact that I didn't even know her name. We fucked on every piece of furniture in that hotel room, ending up in the middle of the room's big feather bed sweaty from our exertions.

Afterwards, as we lay in each other's arms catching our breath, she introduced herself as Senora Inez Plum, wife of the hotel owner. He had been gone for several weeks on business and she had wanted to surprise him on his return. The heat of the moment had passed. Her shyness started to return and I busied myself at the wash basin as she jumped into a shift.

Once dressed, she seemed more comfortable. Inez gave me some of her husband's old clothes, chatting about town gossip and current events. Listening to her talk, I looked around the room. Picking up the scattered newspaper from the floor I felt a silent thrill when I saw it was dated May 12, 1862. Whatever distraction I had from the discovery evaporated when Inez mentioned the impending arrival of French soldiers to Fry. Since she had already confirmed what I knew from Brantwell's diaries, I tried to remember enough high school history to recall if French soldiers had ever been in the Arizona Territory. That's when I realized that there was something that I had expected that she had never mentioned, the Civil War.

* * * * *

As Jack ran for the hotel, Andrea had dove for cover in a nearby house. She stood in the narrow hallway when she heard someone call to her. When Andrea didn't answer, a blonde head poked out of a nearby door.

"Come on girl, shake a leg." The blonde grabbed Andrea's arm and dragged her into the room.

Talking nonstop, the blonde girl introduced herself as Peaches and explained that she was one of the Sheriff's "regular girls". She had been expecting a new girl on the weekly stage but since Andrea seemed to have shown up early, so much the better. Peaches threw Andrea some "decent" clothes to wear, continuing her narrative about what the Sheriff liked to watch. His tastes boiled down to dirty talking lesbians licking and fingering each other. Peaches instructed Andrea on what they needed to do to make the performance go well.

Andrea tried to interrupt several times, each time getting cut off by Peaches' admonitions. "Not now girl, we're going to be late."

The only interruption to Peaches' instructions was a slight pause as she caught sight of Andrea's shaven pussy.

Dressed like Wild West showgirls, the girls went through a connecting door into a larger room. Some gas lamps, effectively disguising their audience, lit a chaise lounge. A gravely voice told them to "get on with it." Peaches posed Andrea in front of the lounge and started to undress her from behind, commenting lewdly on Andrea's figure and what Peaches had planned for the audience's benefit. Her narrative was thoroughly pornographic and complimented what her hands did to Andrea. Once most of Andrea's clothes lay on the floor, Peaches laid Andrea on the lounge and they crawled all over each other, licking and sucking with abandon.

Peaches tongue was as well schooled as her stage instincts. She maneuvered Andrea around the chaise, positioning everything so the hidden audience could see. Andrea leaned back and allowed herself to enjoy Peaches' oral stimulation. The showgirl had brought her close to climax several times but always stopped short of letting her orgasm. Ready for the finale, Peaches pulled a dildo from underneath the chaise and fucked Andrea with it.

They could hear their observer start to stir. A tentative knock on the door interrupted and spoilt the moment. A voice at the door urged the Sheriff to come to the jail quickly. He left in a rush, the sound of several coins thudding on the rug punctuating the closing door. Peaches and Andrea gathered their clothing and retired to the other room. Frustrated from not reaching climax and embarrassed at having performed center stage in a sex show, Andrea wondered how she was going to rejoin the group and get back home.

* * * * *

Across town, Bert and Ernie had taken refuge in a barn. Bert pushed Ernie up into the hayloft and tried to climb up after her.

A reedy voice came from behind him, "Ya'll stay still. Fetch tha other'n down from there, I want to see ya both."

Bert raised his hands and slowly turned around. In the doorway was a thin, teen-age boy with an old double barrel shotgun. Keeping one eye on Ernie as she climbed out of the loft, he accused Bert of being part of the "Sheriff's gang". Motioning with the shotgun, he made Bert kneel and then tied him to one of the posts.

Ernie thought quickly, thinking the boy might be getting ready to shoot Bert. Deciding to divert the boy's attention and let Bert work free from his bonds, she cleared her throat. The boy looked up from the knots binding Bert, seemingly noticing that she was a female for the first time.

"We can straighten this out. We just need to talk a bit." Ernie exaggerated the sway of her hips as she closed the distance between herself and the boy.

She cocked her head to one side in her best coquettish pose. Seeing that he was listening, Ernie started talking about how she and Bert were new in town, all the while unbuttoning her dress. Shrugging the dress off her sholders, she moved closer to him. He reacted just like any normal teenage boy and stared at her pert nipples showing through her thin shift.

Soon her dress lay in a puddle around her ankles. When the boy didn't move, she stepped out of the dress and moved toward him. The boy remained motionless, as still as a statue except for the growing bulge in his shorts.

Finally Ernie stood in front of him completely naked, "See, I told you I was unarmed."

Drawing his attention to the bulge in his pants she knelt in front of him and unbuttoned his pants. Fishing his turgid cock from inside the old fashioned union suit, she seduced him there on the barn floor, stopping only after he shot his load inside her. They were lying on the floor when Bert, who had freed himself during the boy's deflowering, appeared at her side. Bert helped Ernie up from the barn floor. They looked up to see the still undressed boy pick up his shotgun and point it at them. Bert laughed and showed the boy the shotgun loads he removed from the gun while the boy was concentrating on Ernie.

With the threat of the shotgun removed, the trio sat down and introduced themselves. The boy told them that his name was August Witbier and that his parents had been taking to jail by the Sheriff because they knew something that the Sheriff didn't want them telling the French. Ernie became very interested in this and asked many questions about Augie's father's job as a land surveyor for the Territory. Augie told them that the Sheriff was a crook and that the French were coming to take over the town since the Yankees had left to go east.

* * * * *

While all of this is going on, Sue was a guest of the local jail. She had expected to be raped, but was surprised when her captors throw her into a cell and then left her alone. A white couple, dressed in thin cotton pajamas, and an old Indian squatting on a threadbare blanket occupied the other two cells in the small adobe jail. After a few moments one of her captors returned with a well-dressed, middle age man. From the silver star he has pinned to his vest, Sue guessed that he was the Sheriff.

She told the Sheriff that she had been trying to stop the drunken cowboys from shooting the dog and that everything was all an innocent mistake. He sat behind a desk, smiled, and invited her to step from the cell. She stepped in front of his desk, expecting to continue their conversation, when a cowboy grabbed her from behind. Using some of the self-defense classes she had taken she threw him off, but couldn't evade the other two who pinned her arms behind her. Without looking at the cowboy Sue had kicked in the groin, the Sheriff ordered his men to take Sue "to the cross."

The cowboys dragged Sue, kicking and screaming, into a back room. She saw what looked like a large wooden "I" propped against the wall. The men fastened shackles to her wrists and ankles, forcing her spread-eagle on the wooden frame.

Then the one she kicked pulled a large Bowie knife from its sheath. "The boss wants to see the goods, sweet thing."

His foul, whiskey-laden breath almost made Sue gag, but she was determined not to show them her fear. The cowboy expertly cut her clothes off, making lewd observations about her tan lines and underwear. He was most appreciative of her shaved mound.

As he finished, one of his partners called to the Sheriff, "She's ready."

The Sheriff entered leading the woman from the other cell by a leash. She was completely naked, wearing only a heavy leather collar around her neck and leather shackles on her wrist. The Sheriff tugged her to her knees in front of Sue. Holding her head up by her chin, he made the woman, whom he called Maggie, describe the sex acts she would perform on Sue for the Sheriff's benefit.

Satisfied, the Sheriff let go of her and stepped back to observe. Maggie rose from her crouch and began to kiss and lick Sue. Her foreplay was frantic because if she hesitated, the Sheriff struck her with a leather riding whip. Both the kissing and the whipping seemed to excite her and soon Maggie was rubbing her crotch against Sue's legs. The Sheriff stepped behind Maggie as she ate Sue's pussy and unbuttoned his pants. He locked eyes with Sue as he put his cock into Maggie's pussy. He fucked her savagely, coming quickly. Wiping his cock with a towel, he told Sue that he'd be back for her later and dragged Maggie from the room by her leash.

* * * * *

§ Gathering the troops

Throughout the afternoon I got as much information and local color as I could from Inez Plum. Once I knew a little more about what was going on, my next concern was to find all of the other members of the group. Once we were back together, all we had to do was get Sue out of jail and go home. As unrealistically optimistic as that plan was, I was most worried about Sue. Civil rights wasn't a burning cause in the 1860s and I had visions of prison rape scenes in my head as I stepped out of Inez's room, intending to make a tour of the town.

Reaching the hotel lobby, I saw Andrea walk in from the street. We sat down at a table in the saloon and began to talk about our adventures. She told me what she knew about the Sheriff, especially his voyeuristic tastes, and her new friend Peaches. Without knowing where Bert and Ernie were, I decided to take Inez with for a walk around town.

It was late afternoon and many of the town's residents were beginning to promenade in the street, socializing with each other. As we passed the scene of the abortive dog-shooting, I surveyed the area. Discovering that Inez's husband owned the bordello the cowboys had come out of, I asked Inez about the small barn close by. She shook her head sadly and told me the gossip about the Witbiers. She said that the Sheriff felt that Mr. Witbier was spying for the Yankees, but everyone in town knew that that was only an excuse since the Sheriff obviously lusted after Margaret Witbier. She lowered her voice, crossed herself, and told me that she had heard the Margaret was now a sex slave in the jail, servicing the Sheriff and his men.

"I pray for her." That was all Inez would say about Mrs. Witbier's jail sentence as we returned to the hotel.

While Inez was busy overseeing dinner preparations in the hotel, Andrea and I strolled around the edge of town, surreptitiously working our way toward the Witbier's barn. Sneaking inside, we were greeted with the business end of Augie Witbier's shotgun. I introduced myself and was about to try and disarm the boy when Bert jumped down from the hayloft. We congratulated ourselves on surviving this far, but wondered what to do about Sue.

Andrea came up with the plan. She and Peaches would lure the three guards into the saloon after dinner. While the guards were distracted, Bert, Ernie, and I would break into the jail and free the Witbiers and Sue. The only unanswered question was where the Sheriff would be, but Inez had assured me that he always took his meals in the hotel. Although Augie wanted to go into the jail shooting, I didn't want any gunplay. I told Bert and Ernie to keep lookout while I went into the jail, unlocked the cells, and got the prisoners out. He didn't tell them about my plans to use my necklace rather than the 9mm that I carried.

We heard the hotel's dinner bell ring right on schedule and put the plan into motion. Andrea and Peaches got the guards to come to the saloon for drinks. I positioned Augie on the hotel balcony where he could watch the front of the jail. Bert and Ernie watched the street that ran behind the jail. Once the guards had left, I calmly opened the jail's door and walked in.

The men in the cells sat quietly. The white man apparently sobbing on his cot. The Indian stared at me impassively. I heard noises from the back room and stealthily crossed the room. Looking in through the doorway, I saw the top of a man's head over the back of a large leather wingback chair. The Sheriff was enjoying a show before dinner.

The Sheriff sat in his leather chair, instructing Maggie on how to prepare Sue for the evening's entertainment. As the Sheriff talked, I entered his mind. Rather than exciting him, I worked in the basement of his mind to put him to sleep while he watched Maggie eat Sue. The whiskey he'd been drinking made my task easier and soon he was snoring in the chair. I stepped into the room and took the shackle keys from his watch chain. I unlocked Sue, told her to bring Maggie, and then returned to the outer room to unlock the cells.

I had just completed this task when I heard the thunderclap of a pistol shot from the back room. Running into the room, I saw a naked Maggie Witbier standing over the Sheriff with his pistol in her hand. The back of his head was missing and the wall behind his chair covered in blood and brains. Her eyes were vacant and I was afraid of what she might do next. Sue, who had been recovering her wallet and jewelry from the cupboard, swiftly came to Maggie's side and took the pistol from the woman's unresisting hand. Draping her in a blanket, Sue and I led the trio of prisoners to the appointed meeting place, the town's General Store.

The street seemed quiet enough, reasonable since the Sheriff's cronies often paraded around shooting their firearms into the air, and the rest of the group joined them in a few moments. Bert looked in awe at Andrea. He reported that he had watched Andrea and Peaches "entertain" the Sheriff's men. He said that the cowboys were still in the hotel bar but wasn't sure how long they'd stay. I was shocked that Andrea, quiet, church-going, nurse from a conservative town would have planned and been the center attraction in a four-way orgy. Andrea blushed and told me not to worry about the cowboys since Peaches was still there "to keep them occupied."

Moving on to bigger problems, I told everyone that we needed to pack for a long trip. I told the Witbiers that they needed to leave town as soon as possible, now that the Sheriff was dead. Andrea, reverting from town slut to trained nurse, took me aside.

"Listen Jack, Maggie Witbier is in shock. We can’t leave her alone. And look at her husband." George Witbier stared blankly at the store's stove. "He's no pillar of strength right now. We need to take them with us." Sue chimed in, reminding me that we needed to for clues that would point us at Lucy's killers.

§ Looking for Clues

As the others rushed around, looting the General Store for items they would need, I sat George Witbier in a quiet corner.

“George. Listen to me George.” He seemed to come back to reality slightly. “We’ve got to find a hiding place. They’re going to come looking for us George. George do you hear me?”

I got no where. He had surrendered to the despair. Looking around, I started to think about how to get the group back to the arroyo where we’d hidden the Time Machine. I jumped as I felt a hand on my shoulder. The Indian, forgotten until just then, was standing behind me. Looking me in the eye, he offered to hide us in the canyons behind the town.

By late evening the small town was crawling with Sheriff's henchman. Houses were invaded and storage areas ransacked by groups of torch-bearing cowboys. I kept watch through the store’s front windows. George sat with me, more so I could keep an eye on him. Their activity was very loud and public, but George Witbier remarked that John Foster, the Sheriff’s chief deputy, was just trying to "look good for his bosses" in hopes of taking the Sheriff's place. Inside the store, everyone scurried around getting things together. We borrowed clothes from the Witbiers or Inez Plum.

Before we left, Sue wanted to explore the Sheriff's house. Around midnight, Sue, dressed in some of Maggie Witbier's old clothes, decided to burglarize the Sheriff's house. Taking the keys that I had found on the Sheriff's watch chain, she made her way behind buildings to a small frame house next to the town bank.

Using a knife, she pushed the latch open on a window and crawled into the house. She found herself in the Sheriff's bedroom. It had already been ransacked, clothes were strewn across the floor and the mattress had been slashed, its ticking spread on the floor. Stepping in to the adjoining room, she saw that his library had been given the same treatment.

The only item left untouched was the safe in the corner behind the desk. Still looking around, Sue saw pictures of the Sheriff and people she took to be business associates. Framed in a typical Victorian gilt frame, one picture was remarkable. It showed the Sheriff being presented with a large broadsword by a slim, mustachioed man. Hanging directly above it was a broadsword, complete with jeweled hilt and scabbard. Sue continued her search, but the files she found were routine, dealing only with local matters.

Finally, she sat behind the large wooden desk, untouched mainly due to its size, and inspected the drawers. As she expected, they had also been ransacked. Looking around she spied the desk blotter, tossed into the corner. Just as she had done in the past with people's computer passwords, she looked in the corners for the safe combination. Voila! It was right where she had expected it to be.

Using the combination she quickly opened the safe and checked its contents. Two books were inside: one a common ledger book, the other a small leather bound diary. Sitting behind the books was a jewelry case. The jewelry case contained an amulet and a signet ring.

The sound of a door slamming open interrupted her burglary. She scooped up the books and case into a small satchel and shut the safe door, dashing for the bedroom to make her escape. Before she could crawl back out the window, she heard someone coming toward the bedroom door. She froze, hiding in the armoire beside the window.

"Evie!…Evie show yourself. Bitch!" The voice belonged to the cowboy she had kicked in the jail. She quietly closed the armoire door, hoping that he wouldn't come into the bedroom.

The bedroom door burst open, "Evie, where you hiding? When I find you I'll horse whip your skinny ass!"

Not finding Evie, the cowboy turned and kicked open the door across the hall. From the sounds Sue heard, Evie had been hiding in there. By cracking the armoire door slightly, Sue could see across the hall into the room where they were. The cowboy was interrogating a skinny, red haired woman, apparently Evie, slapping her forcefully when her answers were not what he expected. Sue felt herself start to get angry. Grabbing the girl by the hair, the cowboy held her on her knees and wrenched her head back, exposing her slim white throat. He pulled out his Bowie knife, the same one he had used to cut Sue's clothes off in the jail, and traced it across her throat.

"Nothin's changed, Evie. You're still a slave. The only difference is that I'm the Watcher now."

Evie shivered. The cowboy ran his knife along her shoulders, cutting her dress' straps. Her thin shift puddled on the floor leaving her naked from the knees up.

"Now you're going to take care of me the same way you took care of him. Aren't you?"

He emphasized his words by tracing his knife's tip under her breast, a thin red line became visible.

His words became a snarl. "Who's in charge now, Evie?"

Her voice was thin and breathless. "You are Mr. Foster."

"That's right, girl."

He stuck his knife into the door frame above her head. Still holding her by the hair with one hand, Foster unbuckled his pants and fished his stiff cock from inside his long johns.

"Now do what you do best and I'll only give you ten lashes for hiding."

Evie immediately gave Foster an expert blowjob, making numerous explicit comments about the size of his member. Apparently satisfied, Foster dragged Evie by the hair across the hall and onto the bed. Sue, hiding only a few feet away, held her breath and hoped that the armoire didn't creak.

Roughly slapping Evie's legs apart, Foster took her on the squeaky bed, finally coming inside her with a shout. Satisfied for the moment, Foster pulled his shrinking prick from the girl and once again dragged her by the hair into the hallway. Sue heard him say something about food and then pots rattling. Praying that the door hinges didn’t squeak, Sue left the armoire and crawled back out of the house.

Returning to the General Store, she was just in time to join us in following the old Indian to this hiding place in the canyon. I asked if she had found anything but Sue said she'd have to show me when we had more time.

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