Daughter of the Revolution Ch. 03

Chapter III

Six months later:

The three women were gathered around the table in the small cabin eating dinner. Their lives had changed immensely in the last half year and the leanness of their bodies showed it. Where they'd once had soft curves they now sported lean, firm muscle and more defined cheekbones on their beautiful faces. June and Rose looked fully mature, small lines now crinkled the corners of their beautiful eyes, caused more by stress and sleeplessness than true age. Abby, on the other hand had blossomed into an exquisitely beautiful young lady of 19 years old. She'd also morphed into a cold calculating killer of the King's men. She'd lost count of the number of men she'd sent to meet the Reaper after her first day of killing.

Since that day she'd led the girls to a cave several miles from the wrecked plantation and deep in the hills. After a couple weeks of getting settled in, she grew bored and made a quick but silent trip back to her home. The house and slave cabins had been razed nearly to the ground and been picked clean by red coated vultures. There was no sign of anyone at all. Her father, uncle, and all the slaves had vanished as if spirited away. She cried bitter tears and swore vengeance on her tyrannical enemies. She took nearly a week to return to her friends in the hills, spending time scouting near and far to determine where the redcoats range had extended. She learned that they could safely move their base camp closer to the road system which would allow her to wage the type of war she was planning more effectively. It seemed the soldiers rarely raided into the hills, preferring instead to let the militias come to them. They'd learned the deadly lesson of a patient man behind a Kentucky rifle ambushing them in the trees.

On her way back she looked in on an old friend that had built a small but sturdy cabin concealed a short distance from a lesser used road, more of a wagon trail actually. All she could find of him was a note explaining that he'd gone to fight the British and asked whomever found his note to use his cabin as needed and to fight the good fight. Tears welled in her eyes as she remembered her friend and how nicely he'd treated her and George. Shaking it off, she made a bee line to the cave and explained her plans to her girlfriends.

In short order they'd relocated and Abby set her plan in motion. First, she laid down some ground rules. Sundays were set aside for cleaning the cabin and grooming themselves. Hot baths and a sharp razor kept them feeling like ladies, they even wore dresses now and then. They also avoided using the same trail all the time when hunting or gathering water. Abby didn't want any obvious sign of their presence. Finally, they would take no one into their group without full approval of all three women.

In the first couple months since they'd left the plantation Abby had lain in ambush along a few minor roads and being extremely patient waited for just the right time to spring on unsuspecting redcoats. Normally she carried the two matching squirrel rifles and was not shy about picking off soldiers singly or in pairs. She simply left them where they lay, bleeding from a .32 caliber hole in their heads.

At times she was fortunate enough to come across a few soldiers who were camping along a road. She'd wait until dark then slide in silently and listen to their conversations. Mostly they bragged of fucking their women or how brave they'd been in a skirmish. Abby just rolled her eyes and waited until they talked of troop movements and such. Then she'd plan her attacks on information gleaned from what she heard.

One such teaser of information clued her in to a movement of cargo that included payroll for a large company of men. It was to be escorted by six redcoats, carried on a resupply wagon, and the route was to follow a road just a few miles from their cabin.

She swiftly headed back and told her companions about her plan, then they set it in motion quickly as they had only one day to prepare. They saddled up and headed out, bringing a pack mule with them that Abby had acquired in one of her raids. They stayed hidden until the redcoats and their wagon had passed by, then they followed them silently until they camped for the night. As Abby had suspected they broke out some liquor and passed it around. Foolishly, even the sentry partook and was getting wobbly on his feet. By midnight they'd all went to sleep except the drowsy man on guard duty. While Rose and June stayed back, Abby slid in close to him, concealed by her dark clothing and carrying a small keg of powder loaded with nails. It was almost child's play to her she thought, except she needed to kill him quietly. Suddenly, she had an idea when she remembered how the bumbling soldiers always bragged of their girls back home. Intuition told her that they were full of shit and had probably never even kissed a girl. Never mind that she'd never kissed a man she thought to herself irritably.

She set her keg down and unbuttoned her jacket and blouse, revealing her more than generous breasts to the night breeze. Her nipples pebbled nicely and she shivered at the rare sensation. Moving silently she drew her rapier and approached the man from the side. When she was close enough to strike she whistled faintly. He turned his head and his eyes widened as they landed on her white tits so brilliantly lit by the moon. His jaw dropped in surprise just as she whipped a wicked backhand that opened his throat from ear to ear. He fell silently to the ground and convulsed in his death throes. Almost panicked she threw herself on him to hold him still until he quit thrashing about.

She retrieved her keg and continued creeping towards the guttering fire. The remaining five men were huddled close by the coals and covered in blankets, snoring away. She nimbly stepped between them and set the keg directly on the burning coals, then she hightailed it out of there as fast as she could while remaining silent. In less than a minute she was with her companions and they hunkered down, holding tight to their mounts.

A mere handful of seconds later the night erupted in a thunderous roar as her bomb detonated violently. After the explosion not a sound came from the camp and the girls ran in expecting to have to kill a few men, but they were all stone cold dead. June started heaving up her dinner at the sight of body parts splattered around the camp and Rose followed her as well, but Abby was all business. She was unloading the payroll before the last nail fell from the sky.

"Come on ladies!" she ordered. "Help a girl out for Pete's sake!"

Frantically they loaded the gold and silver coins into their saddle bags then perused the rest of the cargo. There wasn't much other than a few bags of rice and beans and several Brown Bess muskets. They took the food and left the long guns, then made a bee line for the relative safety of the hills. All that action had happened awhile ago and the girls had since been laying low.

Abby finished her brandy then closed her eyes and leaned back in her bath while listening to Rose chatter. She was relating a story about a man she'd met before she married William. She was quite explicit in the telling and Abby found herself wanting the touch of a man on her young body. As Rose expounded on how large the man's cock was and how she'd taken him down her throat until he'd filled her belly with his hot seed, Abby stroked her freshly shaven pussy under the water and hummed in pleasure. For the first time since she'd left her home she allowed herself an orgasm. The brandy had no doubt lowered her inhibitions and she lost herself in Rose's story. She fancied she could feel the man's tongue lick her open as he'd done to Rose. She sighed in pleasure and came hard on her fingers. Slowly she realized it was now quiet in the room. She lazily opened her eyes to see both her friends staring at her.

"What," she said somewhat defiantly. "Can't a girl enjoy herself a little?"

Rose's face was flushed and June's breasts were heaving slightly.

"You cum exquisitely, Abby," Rose said in reverence. "You're absolutely beautiful." June was nodding in agreement and squirming in her chair. Rose's story had gotten her hot and bothered too. The girl's sex lives had been nonexistent for the last six months and they all needed release badly.

"I'll let you two have the tub, I'm getting too hot," she offered and daintily stepped out while Rose handed her a towel.

"Let me, please." June moved in and took the towel, drying Abby like she used to back at home. Rose slid in the water and sighed in contentment. June proceeded to wash her hair for her while she purred happily. Abby laid back naked on her bed and watched the two women groom each other. When Rose was scrubbed clean she got out and sat on a stool, spreading her legs wide. June knelt and swiftly shaved her clean, then Rose returned the favor by washing her up and shaving her as well.

Abby had another shot of liquor and was feeling no pain as she reclined on her pillows with her eyes closed. Suddenly, a low moan broke the silence. She cracked an eye open to see Rose with her tongue buried in June's pussy while she sat on the stool. Rose was looking at Abby with a questioning look, wondering if her actions with June were ok with Abby. Abby nodded and closed her eyes again. She heard the two lovers move to the other bed and continue their love making. Abby let her mind wander in a fantasy. The moans she was hearing were now her own as a tall muscular man appeared between her thighs and started licking her sweet pussy. She rolled a firm breast in one hand and stroked her swollen clit with the other while her fantasy man pleasured her. Soon, he rose up and fisted a huge cock while spreading her legs wide. He was larger than Isaac and terribly handsome. Long hair hung over his shoulders to brush her face as he bent over her. Just when his thick cock touched her wet pussy she came violently on her whirling fingers. Her companions looked at her in pleasant surprise when she cried out in passionate orgasm. Eventually her fingers slowed, then her hands slipped to her sides as she slipped into a liquor and sex induced sleep. June got up and tucked her under the blankets, then gently kissed her lips and returned to Rose in bed.

The following day Abby was feeling antsy and decided to go scout around for redcoats. She planned on going to a major road that she rarely hunted, usually there was simply too much traffic for her to operate safely and it was far more dangerous, but she was feeling frisky and took the chance. She packed enough supplies to be gone for a few days and said goodbye to her companions, showing them roughly on a map where she intended to be. They both hugged and kissed her, encouraging her to come home safely. It took her most of the day to get there and she arrived by late afternoon. She knew if she found a decent target they'd be pulling off the road and setting up camp in a matter of hours, giving her an opportunity to lurk and listen or take other action as she judged best.

As luck would have it, a group of four redcoats appeared. Three were marching and one drove a wagon with what looked to be a prisoner in the back. Abby watched from her hidden position as the wagon rattled by. The prisoner was wearing a tattered uniform of the Continental army and had a black hood over his head which almost concealed the long, dark, curly hair that hung down his broad back. His hands were manacled behind him, his feet were bound together with rope, and he swayed around as if he were drunk or disoriented. He looked like a tall man and his shoulders were broad and rounded with muscle. Abby felt an almost electric shock in the first few moments she saw him. A feeling of desperation and certainty came over her, one that she'd never felt before. She knew without a doubt that she must rescue him and free him from his captors. From that moment on, her every thought was consumed with a plan to kill the redcoats and free the man.

She shadowed them carefully until nightfall when they pulled off the trail at what appeared to be a large, well used camping spot. A ring of firestones were already in place and old faded cloth tarps flapped from flimsy wooden frames which appeared to have been used in the past as cover from the elements. She flinched when the soldiers pushed their prisoner out of the wagon and he fell awkwardly to ground, grunting in pain when he landed. They roughly tied a rope around his neck and lashed him to a nearby oak tree.

Abby was watching from behind one of the tented structures when she had an idea. She quickly returned to her mount and retrieved a bottle of whisky, then placed it on the ground near the abandoned tent. She moved her position and waited patiently. The soldiers set up their camp for the evening, never missing a chance to punch or kick their prisoner every time they walked by him. He was laying on the ground groaning in pain almost constantly and her heart went out to him, but she needed the cloak of full darkness to carry out her plan.

It seemed to take forever but eventually a redcoat got up and began checking out the tattered structures for a good place to sleep. He let out a whoop when he found the whiskey bottle and showed it to his cohorts. In no time they were drinking freely and getting louder by the minute. Thankfully they hadn't eaten yet and the liquor went straight to their heads.

Unfortunately, the drunker they got the more abuse the Continental soldier endured. They kicked and beat him until he was limp and unconscious. When a particularly vicious redcoat took a bayonet out, Abby knew she had to act, and quickly, regardless of her own safety. Somehow she knew her future was entangled with the Continental soldier and she felt a dire sense of urgency. When the redcoat stabbed their victim in the thigh with his bayonet, Abby snapped, losing her usual iron self control. She jumped to her feet, drew her rapier, and leapt into the center of the laughing drunken men. Stabbing one in the heart, she swung around to see another gaping at her with an open mouth. She promptly ran her steel between his teeth and out the back of his neck, her blade parting his spinal cord in an instant. By now the other two had drawn their swords and awkwardly addressed her. From long practice with her father she could tell neither man was well trained in swordplay.

After a half dozen strokes from them and parries from her, confidence bloomed in her chest. In a handful of seconds she pressed in with a dazzling display of swordsmanship and both men were left gasping on the ground, bleeding and disarmed. She whipped out her dagger and knelt over one of the men, straddling his chest. She looked down at his frightened face and rammed her blade up under his chin, puncturing his brain while twisting her knife viciously to scramble his skull's contents. She shivered in wicked pleasure when she watched the light leave his eyes. She did the same to the other unfortunate and then went to the unconscious prisoner. She felt a sense of urgency, exposed as they were to the nearby road and it's potential passerby's.

She poked and prodded him but he was out cold. She was amazed at his sheer size. He must have been close to six and a half feet tall and an easy 230 pounds in weight.

How was she going to move him? Shit! Racking her brain for ideas, she ran to the wagon and looked inside. Nothing! What to do? Her eye fell on the bench the prisoner had been sitting on. She hopped up and took it in hand, yanking and pulling on the planks with all her strength. It moved only slightly, but at least it moved. She grabbed a nearby musket and used it for a pry bar. Gradually she worked the bench seat loose and tossed it out on the ground. Pouring sweat, she manhandled the man over on his back and atop the planks. She lashed him down tightly and secured the makeshift travois to her horse, then quickly and quietly as possible, vanished into the night.

Just before dawn when the sun was trying to rise, her new companion awoke, retching and coughing beneath his hood. Shit! She'd forgotten about that in her hurry to leave! She quickly ripped the hood off and turned his head so he wouldn't choke to death on his vomit. She poured water from her canteen over his face and wiped him clean while he coughed and gagged until his breathing returned to normal. He turned his head to face her and she felt as if she'd been struck by lightning. Piercing grey eyes met her beautiful blue ones as she took in his beaten and bruised countenance. She'd never seen a more handsome man in her life! She couldn't stop her hand from brushing his dark curls from his face and she felt an overwhelming desire to kiss him.

"Hello, Angel," he said in a parched voice. "Water, please," he croaked. She quickly put a small hand under his head and raised him to drink. He drank deeply until she pulled away.

"Easy there. Not too much or you'll get sick again." He sighed and she laid his head back. She didn't know what to say to him, she was absolutely tongue tied, even covered in filth and vomit he stole the heart from her chest.

"What's your name, Angel?" he managed as he lay with his eyes closed.

"Abigail, my friends call me Abby," she stuttered awkwardly.

"I'm Alexander, my friends call me Alec. As my rescuer, you may call me anything you like," he quipped with a wry smile.

"I shall think on it, for now I shall call you Heavy, because you were extremely difficult to drag here," she said merrily, finally finding her voice. He groaned and painfully shifted his bulk.

"My arms are killing me, laying on them for so long is hard to do," he said painfully.

"I'm so sorry, we had to leave quickly and get away from the road. I haven't had time to attend to you," she apologized.

"Don't worry yourself. I'm just thankful my guardian angel rescued me," he said softly while looking up at her. She felt herself falling into his gorgeous eyes, then caught herself. She busied her hands by freeing him from the travois and sitting him up. His arms and hands were blue from bad circulation and his wrists torn and bloodied from the manacles. His thigh was caked with dried blood from his stab wound but appeared to have stopped bleeding. Bravely, she straddled his legs and sat in his lap to attend to his face. She swabbed it with a wet rag and gave him more to drink.

She noticed his eyes wandering down to her cleavage and she felt a trickle of desire, knowing that he was finding her attractive. When he was as clean as she could get him, she fed him some hardtack and dried meat along with plenty of water.

"I'm sorry, I have nothing to remove your manacles. If I can take you to my camp I have a hammer and chisel and I can get those things off of you," she volunteered.

"That would be wonderful, is it far from here?"

"If you can ride, a day. If I drag you, a couple days."

"I'll ride. Bouncing along on those boards was horrible."

"Can you try now? We really should be going. I apologize but it'll be a rough go for you," she said gently.

"Abby, doing anything with you will be far more pleasant than my former situation."

She smiled to herself. She was really growing to like him. It was her first compliment from a man other than her father and she liked it.

After a minor battle of strength, she got him to his feet and next to her horse. He'd just lodged his foot in a stirrup when he paused.

"Um, Abby? It appears I must relieve myself. All that water has run right through me."

She looked at him and waited, then realized he couldn't help himself with his arms manacled behind him.

"I'm sorry, Angel. I need your help," he said while blushing deeply.

"Um, ok. Do you mind?"

"Of course. Please hurry though."