Brothers in Arms Ch. 05

"You saved my life, boy. You did, you saved my life. Are you a gunslinger? You wanted somewhere?"

"No Sarjent, Ah ain't no gunslinger. But I keep have'n to be. Folks keep tryin' ta shoot me. This here's the third one. After the furst one Ah 'cided ta learn how ta draw an' shoot."

The policeman turned Prest around to shake his hand. "Well, youngster, I am in your debt. Anything you need, you just ask. Anything!"

Not wanting to incite further fear or hatred, The boys did not immediately enter The Depot, but waited until after dark to report their progress to Li'l Mike, who of course knew the whole story by then. Over shots of Napoleon Brandy and fine Cigars, they congratulated one another on their luck and success.

"Do not assume that the sergeant's debt includes honesty or fairness to me and mine," Mike cautioned them. "He is after all, a white man. Cross the river any of three directions and you are in the south. Attitudes in Cairo are the attitudes of the south. Not that many in the North don't have shitty attitudes towards Negroes, but at least there is the law mostly on our side."

"That's the beauty of it Mike,"Sean replied. "Our protection business has nothing to do with you or yours except you are a customer. Who can argue with business. Be sure I shall require the good sergeant to provide a favor, when the time is right. Thanks to killer, here," gesturing to Preston, whose face blushed red as his hair.

Cassandra swept in, her petite form seeming to glide over the floor without her feet moving. "Excuse me suhs." she said. And moved to speak in Mike's ear. Sean waited a silent moment, the spoke up. "Miss, uh. . . Cassandra, please call me Sean, I don't like that 'sir' stuff, it makes me think of army officers. Sean saw a black person blush then for the first time in his life. Heretofore invisible, copper colored freckles shone brightly from Cassandra's delicate face. "Don't be frightened or embarrassed. Tell, her Mike. Tell her it is okay!"

"Cassandra," Mike asked gently, "Do you think you could manage to call the boys by their names when you are in private? In front of other white folks, of course, you will still have to call them 'sir' and not slip and make a mistake?"

"Yes, Mr. Mike, I think I can do that." She turned to Preston and now her face was very flushed, lit up with a brilliant smile, her freckles sparkling like pink stars. "What should I call you Suh?"

Preston too was red-faced, stammering. "Uh. . . uh. . . Whyn't ya call me jest plain Prest?"

"All right, jest plain Prest," she teased, mimicking his deep South accent, her ankles crossed, one foot dangling, and her hips swaying softly.

Everyone laughed then. "My god," Sean thought to himself, "she's flirting with him. And he knows it, too. And he likes it, too." Sean felt a tiny twinge of jealousy, but quickly submerged his feelings. After all, he had asked Prest to be with Mandigo and not expected jealousy. Anyway, Prest had never been with a woman. Perhaps he should have that chance, have that option. How else would he ever know? "Hell, he thought, "I haven't tried a woman since Preston either." he shrugged mentally. "She's a pretty fine looking woman, too. I enjoyed it before. I probably still do like women. Why not?" Now that he had accepted Preston as his lover, all his preconceptions about life and sex had been turned around and upside down. Could a guy want to have sex with men and women? Was there a name for that? Was he that? Was Prest? "Man," he said to himself, "life sure can be confusing if you think too much! I guess I'll just have to let things be what they will be."

"Hey Mike," Preston said. "Ah got me an idee."

"What's that?"

"Does Cassandra work for you or could we hire her?"

"Well she works for me right now, but you can ask her, she is a free person. I pay her a dollar a day."

Preston blushed that Mike would think he would forget something so important as freedom because he was a southerner. "Well we could pay her two dollars, couldn't we Sean?"

Sean merely grinned.

'What do you say, Cassandra?"

"Well," she said shyly, looking down at the floor, but grinning widely. 'I don' know if two dollars is enough?"

"Preston was really into it now, belly shaking with laughter as he spoke. "Okay, three dollars, then. And Ah thank we need ya ta get some pretty clothes. Do ya think y'all could run our office at the protection agency when Sean and me ain't there?"

"Well, jest plain Prest, I think if y'all pay me three dollahs a day I could do jest about anything. I been saving up to buy my mama from down south, but I don't even know if I can find her with the war and all. 'Sides, Mr. Lincoln gonna free the slaves any day now, folks been sayin' And mama knows I am in Kay-ro Illinois and that is North. If she be free, she find me. Lordy," she says, looking up at the ceiling as if to heaven. "Freedom. Real freedom!"

"Aren't you free now, Cassandra," Sean asked?

The shapely mulatto glanced furtively at Mike as if to ask what was safe to say.

"I think it is safe to trust these boys," Mike said. "But it is your freedom and your life."

Cassandra nodded several times in Mike's direction, giving him tacit permission to tell her story.

"The young lady has papers of manumission which I, er, shall we say, procured for her as I have for a few others. However, if her original owner were to come looking, those papers might, well, receive a bit more scrutiny than we might wish. Do you understand?"

"I get it," Sean said. "Say no more."

Preston spoke up, patting the revolver which was by now constantly on his hip. "Wall, ya jest let me know if he shows up, he an' Ah'll have a little talk and Ah am sure Ah kin convince him ta sell ya free."

"You would do that for me? You don't even know me."

"Ah knows ya well enough girl. Now you mind what Ah says. Any trouble aytall, ya let me know. After all, Ah am in the pertection bizzness," Preston said, once again patting his sidearm.

"Well I guess that settles it, Sean said, you guys go and get her some clothes to work in an office, get set up there and, Cassandra, you can start work tomorrow at ten A.M., if that's all right. I am going out to hire a horse and buggy to go practice my marksmanship."

"That'll be just fine Mr. Sean. And thank you. Thank you so much. Three dollars a day! I am gonna be the richest Negro 'roun' here 'cept for Mr. Mike."

Sean practiced with the sharp's carbine for the rest of the afternoon while Preston and Cassandra went shopping for clothes suitable for her to wear at their office. (The small space in their house set off by a screen.) They also purchased several ledgers to keep track of any and all information that might come her way. They also spent about an hour working out a system for Cassandra to use to keep records, since she and Preston both read and wrote poorly. Preston was sitting on the edge of the table she would use for a desk chatting with Cassandra and flirting a bit when Sean wandered in.

Sean stopped dead in his tracks, took in what was going on in one look and said. "I am going to wash up, then I am going to the Cairo Inn for a steak and a beer, you coming?"

Prest, a bit embarrassed, looked back and forth between the girl and Sean for a moment then said slowly, as if choosing carefully what he would say, " Uh. . . ah. . . sure, gimme a sec and Ah'll go wit ya. See ya in the mornin' Cassandra."

When the two boys entered the Cairo Inn and took seats at a table, everyone fell silent for a moment. Sean assumed the silence was because of the events earlier in the day, but could not assess whether the atmosphere was positive or negative. They were about half through eating when Pete Larson, owner of the Cairo approached. "Mind if I join you boys for a moment, Larsen asked? Sean nodded and Pete sat, yelling to the bartender, "Jake give these boys a drink on the house." He lowered his voice and leaned closer. "I was very impressed this afternoon with what I saw down at that Nigra's place. Now mind you I don't take with a Negro actin' like white folks and all, but I don't cotton much to slavery neither. 'Specially snatching Negroes off the streets and sellin' 'em. A lot of that goes on around these parts and I say it just ain't right."

Right then Jake arrived with their drinks and Pete Larsen fell silent for a moment. Preston used the pause to inquire : "Not to rush you, but is there a point to this conversation,"

Larsen waited until Jake had returned behind the bar, then spoke. "Every other Saturday night, a group from a certain warehouse comes in with their pay and just about destroys the place. Now don't get me wrong, I like the business and make good money off them. But there are a couple, especially Mason Hart, who go too far. He has shot two people and beaten up a few. He keeps getting' away with it, but I am afraid that he will harm me or my staff. I understand that you two hire out to 'protect' places. And I am askin' ya straight out. Will ya work for me on the days they come in, keep the peace and protect me and my property?"

"We have some questions and some conditions," Sean replied. "First off is price. That will be fifty dollars every other week and ten dollars more each other time you require our services." Larsen started to speak, but Sean held up a hand. "I have a feeling if we pacify Saturdays, this Moose Heart guy will start popping up to challenge us. Also we need to know how far you are willing to go and if the law will support our actions in defense of your place. So you need to let the local law know about out agreement. So far every person who has pulled a gun on my friend here has wound up dead. That means I need you and Jake and your bar girls to support myself and Preston here, to be behind us and back up our story in case force becomes necessary. We are new here and our word won't be as good as the locals."

Once again, Larsen began to speak. Once again, Sean held up a hand. "There is one more thing. As you already know, we do business with persons of all types and colors. We don't give a shit what people believe or what their color is. We work for dollars and provide the same services to everyone who hires us. We won't do anything for one customer that endangers our business with another. So if you have a hassle with another of our customers, white or black, we will do our level and EQUAL best to protect both. If you don't accept these terms, we can't work for you. What do you say?"

"You got yerself a deal!"

"Okay, stop by our office in the morning. Our Secretary, Cassandra, will have papers for you to sign. Make sure you write down the days and times you need us, at least initially. Beyond that, if you need us, send for us. Early next week I will bring in signs for you to post. They will basically say that violence will not be tolerated and that the premises are protected by S&P Protective Services. Word will get around after the first few times, as to just what that means.

"Have another drink on the house and tonight's supper is on me, too. I think it will be a pleasure doing business with you."

With a slight buzz on, the two youngsters sauntered back to their dwelling, feeling well fed and well satisfied with themselves. Sean found himself wishing he could walk hand-in-hand with Preston, but knew that he would be asking for trouble if anyone saw them. He contented himself with planning what he would to and for Prest when they arrived home, and broke into a huge grin.

Once home, Sean wasted no time. Slamming the door firmly closed behind them, he immediately drew Prest tightly into his arms and began to roughly kiss his face, neck and ears. He laid his left hand flat on the front of Prest's finely tailored slacks, feeling his young lover's instant response. His minds eye saw the startlingly white, beautifully sculpted cock rearing up, as if sniffing the air, while his hands were still fumbling with Prest's gun belt, his buttons. When the last of the buttons had been undone, and the weight of the gun belt had borne the slacks to the floor, Prest's cock sprung out as if spring loaded. Sean dropped immediately to his knees and began kissing his lover's penis, by now oozing a fair amount of clear liquid. He kissed and sucked and licked and nibbled as if in adoration to a pagan phallus, a god whose lust must be sated.

Preston was at first taken aback by the suddenness of Sean's onslaught, but soon entered into the spirit of the action. His hands held Sean's head on both sides, his fingers entwined in the long hair. Before long, Sean was taking Prest's long thin cock deep into his throat, massaging its leaking head with his throat muscles and swallowing over and over while his lips held tight and his lungs sucked. Preston gripped Sean's head tighter, pulling his face toward his thrusting hips, impaling Sean's throat with his iron hard cock. He released one hand from Sean's head and placed it on Sean's throat. This had become one of his favorite things, to feel with his hand his own cock thrusting in and out of Sean's throat.

Sean, head bobbing, began to feel Preston's hard cock throbbing and jerking in his throat and knew that the rebel boys cum was not far off. He sucked hard, reached around and inserted his first finger into Preston's tight pink ass ring, knowing this action would have the desired result. As cum began to fire down his throat, he sucked and sucked at Prest, seemingly sucking one long constant stream of cum for several seconds.

So far untouched but not forgotten, Sean's massive cock was blazing with heat and rock hard, demanding immediate release. He rose from his knees, swept Preston up in his arms and bore him heavily to the bed. Landing atop him and using his own knees to force Prest's Knees up and back, Sean suddenly pierced Prest's tender anal ring with one mighty thrust.

Preston cried out, "Sean! Oh god Sean!" No matter how many times Sean fucked him, he accepted, there would always be pain. There was just no way anything that massive could pierce him and not cause pain. But it was a sharp and deep and soul burning pain that led to the ultimate bliss of complete surrender of body and mind and soul, that brief loss of self transcending anything the gods may have saved for themselves. And now Preston gave himself over completely to the pain and the glory, looking deep in his lover's eyes as his ass was penetrated deeply. The love he saw there, mingled with rabid lust drove him to a frenzy as he thrust his butt up roughly toward Sean's plunging cock, thrashing his head from side to side and pleading to his lover to possess him, to use him, to have him. And now as Sean's cum spattered hot and deep within him, his own blinding release came to him. "Sean Oh Sean!" he cried over and over, the sound of his voice, tiny now with emotion and release, in syncopated rhythm with the sweet wet sounds of Sean's balls slapping against him. Sean! Sean! Sean!

Morning found them still locked together, Sean's long thick sticky cock cemented briefly between their bellies by dried cum. They kissed deeply and almost began anew, but both boys realized that today they were to start their new business, with more than one customer, and that Cassandra, their first employee, would be entering soon. The boys played and grab-assed around affectionately, slapping each others butts with towels and ruffling each others hair and flopping each others cocks as they washed and dressed and made coffee, their love for one another open and free and obvious.

By the time Cassandra's knock came at the door, they were ready to start the day as the two young, well-dressed businessmen they presented to the world. She was pertly dressed in a coppery colored dotted Swiss dress that hovered just above her ankles, but hid none of her womanly charms. Both boys were impressed with the way the copper color complimented her cafe au lait skin and a white bow set off her curly brown hair. Even Sean looked twice before getting her a chair and setting her up for the day.

Preston, however, seemed particularly interested, hovering unnecessarily close as he set up her desk for the day, placing her chair and pencils and ledgers carefully and asking at every turn, "Is dis okay? Is dat aw right?

Cassandra milked the attention from the former 'almost a slave owner', flirting outrageously, sashaying her slim shapely hips and teasing him with, "Jest plain Preston," turning on that indomitable smile so full of promise and heartbreak that only women can display.

Sean was at first amused, but began to get peeved as it went on and on. "Let's go Preston, we have work to do protecting our customers."

"Ah'm comin' Sean, don' get all bent outta shape, A'hm comin'."

Leaving instructions for the signing of paperwork and other chores, the boys headed for the newspaper office, where they were to place an ad for an employee, (after all, there were only the two of them and two places and two sets of people to protect for many hours of each day) and order some posters printed. Mr Calaghan, the owner and editor, also offered to write an article welcoming them and their business into the community and set up an interview for two days hence. After placing the ad:

MEN WANTED

Honest, reliable hardworking men wanted must be skilled with firearms, comfortable with conflict and able to keep a cool head. Apply P & S Protective services, Downtown, Cairo. Drinkers need not apply!

The boys separated, Sean going to L'il Mikes and Preston to the Cairo Inn. Preston, of course, wore his gun belt, Sean rested the Sharps in the crook of his arm.

Later in the day Sean went to the bank to set up a business account under both their names and the company name. A vice President of the bank seemed somewhat interested when Sean described the nature of their business, mentioning some instances when the bank had gold or cash to transport and their usual Pinkerton's were not available. Sean left a business card. Returning home to wash up for lunch, he entered by the back door. He froze in his tracks at the sounds he heard emanating from behind the screen in the front of their "office". There was giggling. And sighs. And soft mewling sounds as of kittens at play. Moving very quietly he crept up and looked around the screen. Cassandra and Preston were locked in an embrace, kissing. One of Preston's hands was roaming across Cassandra's grapefruit sized breasts, the other was under her dress, moving furtively.

Something,a shadow perhaps, moved across the outside of the front window and Sean cried out, "Preston!"

The two youngsters, the half black ex slave and the pure white ex-rebel, jumped apart as if shot, blushing and stammering. "Ah. . . er. . . We was jest."

"Oh hello Mr. Sean. Me and Pres here were uh. . . well, you know."

"I am sorry I yelled there was something. . . someone perhaps. . . out. . . side. And well, listen you two. We can't have this at the office and during work hours. You Cassandra. We aren't going to pay you to have sex. That would be a different business. And one I am sure you do not wish to take up." Cassandra started to speak up, to protest his classification of her, but he held up a hand to silence her. "I am not talking about morality here, but business."

"And you, Prest? What were you thinking? Aside from everything else, she is a black woman and a possible runaway slave. And here you are making love to her in full view of the street. Are you trying to get all three of us lynched? As a southern 'gentlemen' you surely must know that. Sex with blacks must be concealed from 'decent' white society. My god man the door isn't even locked!"

"C'mon man you is jest jelis."

"You know, Prest, it is possible that I am jealous. But that is a subject to be discussed between you and me. In private. What you have or have not done to injure me, is not to be discussed in front of others. But, henceforth, Preston and you, Cassandra. There is to be no display of love, sex affection or anything of the kind during working hours or in public. It is a danger to our business, and our lives. If you wish to be together, go see Mike and get a room, carefully, quietly, discretely. Do I make sense? I know I am not the boss here, but our survival is at stake. If you persist. I shall leave and go perhaps to Chicago. I cannot stay and be constantly looking over my shoulder for a lynch mob."