I guess because I’d had a year of college. Most of the boys hadn’t.”Her hand drifted south. I was out of commission for the night. But maybe not, I’d been wrong about that one before.“What did you do at Fort Laramie? When you weren’t out on patrol?”
“The Oregon Trail wagon trains on their way west still stopped by for supplies and repairs. Didn’t need much protection by then, the Indian Wars were about played out. Captain McIntyre said he’d seen the plains change over the years. The settlers, homesteaders. Open-range cattle industry.”Thinking back ... it was still pretty busy, Fort Laramie. Started out as a fur-trading post before the Army took it over. Now there was The West Mountain Express, Western Union, Indian treaties. Maybe not as exciting, but still pretty busy.And there were always hangers-on. Drifters, drunkards, an abandoned bottom squaw from some buck’s string. I remembered the haunting eyes of an old Apache woman in a black stove-collared dress. And a small, rootless. “They sure do look fresh and delicious. Think one of them has a cherry for us?”Joe and Brad sauntered up the path about 10 minutes before the giggling girls finished their game so they could intercept Chantal’s boyfriend. As usual he was waiting by a small bridge over a stream. The dart worked perfectly; the boy grabbed at his ass and slowly collapsed. Joe and Brad dragged him out of sight behind a tree and removed the dart so there would be no evidence.When the girls packed up, I followed Chantal at a discreet distance. Just before reaching the clearing, I left the path and started circling to reach the spot I had pre-selected and laid out the blankets. Then I came up behind Chantal’s favorite tree making sure she didn’t see me. She had lain down on her stomach and was reading a book. Creeping closer, I carried the gag, blindfold and the rope for her wrists and paused to admire the way the light breeze flicked at her skirt giving me another peek at her chocolate legs sticking out of.
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