Kas 13

Brothers in Arms Ch. 04

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The two young lads ran and ran. They ran as if their very lives depended upon their speed, which it probably did. After a time they stopped, exhausted and peered over a small rise. They watched in awe as hundreds of cavalry sped to the Northeast amid clouds of dust and the pounding of many shod horses. They hid in a wash of a small, mostly dry creek which would its way north toward the river, its banks steep enough to conceal them. Not long after the pounding of hooves ceased, the two boys became aware they were not alone. They heard the distinct rustle and heavy breathing of someone concealed close by in a willow thicket.

Prest drew his gun. He knew he had only one remaining bullet, but brandished the pistol as if his ammo were unlimited. “Come out from thar whoever you are! Ah have a gun so don try nuttin’. After a long minute of delay a tall dark negro about the same age as the boys emerged from the bushes. His clothes were filthy and completely in tatters, barely concealing any of his almost purple skin.

“Don’ shoot me sah! I ain’t done nuttin’ ‘cept hide from them rebel cav’ry. Please sah lemme go. Ah gots to be on mah way. Please sah!” The tall dark African, obviously an escaped slave, kept his eyes toward the ground and continually twisted between his nervous hands a straw hat too full of holes to be properly called a hat and seemingly inadequate to shelter out any elements.

“Why shud Ah let you go?” Prest asked. You are obviously a slave who has ran away from his proper master. Ah cud prob’ly receive a fair amount of money for returnin’ you to da proper ‘thorities.

Sean interrupted the Negro’s reply, stepping between the two men and addressing Preston. Put the gun away, Prest. Can’t you see the poor negro is scared shitless! Besides there is no way you can turn him in without someone asking where you are supposed to be. Sean turned to the black man and held out his hand. “I am Sean, what is your name?”

“Well suh, Ah is happy to meet ya. Ah is called Nathan by mos folks, but now that Ah is gonna be free, Ah is gonna use mah African name what my daddy gived me, ‘Mandigo’. He were sold off down south when Ah was onliest five, but Ah ‘member what he tol’ me bout being proud of mah name.” Sean turned his head toward Preston.

“Would you please put the damn gun down! This poor dirty Negro isn’t going to hurt either of us. It looks like he can barely stand.” Well, Nathan, er Mandigo. What did you eat today?”

“Well suh Ah found me some roots and some grubs and some dandyline greens earlier today. Ah is jes fine suh, thank you all for axing.”

“Where are you headed Mandigo?”

“Ah is headed fer Kay-ro, Illinoise, suh. It ain’t too fer now. Folks along the way say Ohio be okay, but Illinois is the place fo folks lak me to be free. And I knows where there is a person in Kay-ro what cud hep me git a job an git started on mah whole new free life. You see, suh dis place Kay-ro, I figer dey mus be rat bout mah bein free dere cus Ah were told it be the same name place as the place where da ol’ ‘gyptian Farohs is from in Africa, dem ol’ black kings lak in da bible, onliest, they spell it da same, but in Illinoise they says it Kay-ro, not Ki-ro.”

“And where is this Cairo located,Mandigo?”

“Thataway!” Pointing. “Norwes’. Jes a little more North to da Hio river, den west and kinda south, I reckon, cuz dat ‘ol river she turns and twists roun’ lak an ‘ol snake. It be on t’other side, bout fitty more mile Ah guess.”

“I thought we were getting close to Louisville.”

“Ah, no suh, beggin yo pardon suh but Louaville dat way, wer dem rebel cav’ry was headed. Ya ax me dey is in a heap a trouble cuz there be Yankees all round dat place, or sos I heerd. Is you a Yankee Sean, suh?”

“Not any more, Mandigo. I don’t know what I am any more. Me and Preston here, he was a rebel. I guess we are now just free men like you wish to be. Free from north or south or war.”

“You means you is deserters? One from both sides of da war? How dat happen?”

“Well, that Sir, is a very long story. If you would care to have supper with us and spend the night with us, I will tell you the whole thing.”

“Well suh. . .

“Now jes, a daggone minute, ” Preston spoke up. We cain’t have. . . Ah mean. . . You ain’t askin’ dis Nig. . . uh. . ta eat wit’ us. Ah cain’t. . . ”

Sean and Nathan spoke at the same time. Mandigo immediately backed off a step.

“Sorry misstuh. Ah did’n mean to interrup you. Ah was jes gonna say it wudden’ be rat me eatin’ wit da white folk.”

“Kin Ah speak with you a minute, Sean?” Preston asked, grasping Sean’s arm and dragging him away a few yards to utter in a harsh whisper. “What da hell ya mean, askin’ a Nigger ta eat with us? Sides the fact that it ain’t fittin’, how you know you can trust him? He’ll prob’ly stab us in the night and steal all we have.”

“Well if he stabbed your slave owning ass in he night you would probably deserve it and that’s why you are so skittish. As for me, I never did anything in my life to hurt a Negro, so why should he hurt me? He is just another poor hungry, gaziantep escort man as far as I am concerned and it is only right to ask him to share as we would anyone else, as I did to your Confederate ass that day by the creek. Now I asked him to stay and I am going to ask him again. If you don’t like it you can just stay a ways apart. And please, for the rest of the time he’s here, try not to say Nigger!”

Prest turned away and went about preparing a campsite for the night, mumbling under his breath, “Damn Yankee, goddam Yankee.”

“Sean, what de hell you doin’ in mah pack?”

“I know you’ve got another shirt in here and I am taking it to give to Nathan, er, Mandigo.”

“Damn fucking yankee, damnyankee,” Preston mumbled.

Sean and the negro disappeared down stream and after a while, Prest moved along behind. When he came within sight of them, Preston sat on the bank some fifty yards away and watched them.

The black and Sean were standing in the shallow river facing one another. Sean stripped off the tattered remains of the Negro’s shirt and tossed it aside. The same for Mandigo’s trousers, which were so full of holes that they fell apart as Sean stripped them off. Sean had a wash rag and a scrap of soap he began dipping in the river, laving the slave’s body, starting with the black wiry hair atop his dark head. The black youngster submitted to Sean’s ministrations like a small child, turning this way and that, lifting his arms or spreading his legs.

From his distant perch, Prest saw Sean turn the negro boy’s body and recoil in shock and disgust. Though he couldn’t see what what caused Sean’s reaction, he thought he knew. Someone somewhere in the south had whipped this slave, probably severely, leaving huge ugly scars. Though Prest’s family had always been too poor to afford slaves, Prest had always hoped some day to become wealthy enough to purchase several slaves. Now that was all over. As a deserter from the glorious Army of the Confederacy, he could never show his face down home again. He chuckled to himself as he tried to imagine “down home” folks reaction to him and Sean’s way of life. Breaking out of his reverie, Prest returned his attention to Sean and the Negro.

Sean was washing between Mandigo’s legs, laving his cock and balls and ass. The tall slave feigned disinterist, but even from his distance, Prest could see the Negro’s soft dark penis, the color of a ripe eggplant involuntarily rising and stiffening. The young rebel lad’s first reaction was revulsion that Sean would and could be so intimate with a Ni. . . Negro, but when the black’s manhood began to swell and grow, Prest felt that oh so familiar ache begin in his belly. He couldn’t believe it! Not only was he once again reacting sexually to another man, but this time to a Negro, a slave! Even this reaction was short-lived. Prest began to chuckle at himself when he realized that he was becoming jealous of Sean’s attention to the escaped slave. He watched carefully, though he was some distance away, anxious to see what would develop between the black boy and his lover. He was greatly surprised, however, when Sean merely dried off the black boy and handed him dry clothes. The two turned upstream and Sean waved to Prest as they drew near.

“Hey Prest, look at this. Mandigo doesn’t look like an escaped field hand any more, he looks like a freeman.”

“Yassur Mr Preston, Ahse got new clothes. Dese here is da fustest new clothes Ah ever did have on dis ‘ere black body. Now ah is lookn’ lak Ah is da gen-u-wine free man, not no lowly field nigger.”

Sean, pulled Mandigo by the arm and whispered something in his ear, then spoke aloud. “I have told Mandigo here that he doesn’t have to talk all that shit any more, at least not with us, that he can speak like a normal person. He apparently has been educated as well as you or I, perhaps even better. Isn’t that right Mandigo?”

“If it be awrite with you suh, I will stop playing slave now. Perhaps I will have to resume such behavior among others of your race, but Mr. Sean here assures me that neither of you will be offended if I speak in a way much more natural to me, since it is how my mother taught me to speak. She also taught me to read and write and stole or borrowed many books. You see, Sir, mama had a strong deep faith that some day I would be a free man. Her goal was to prepare me for such a time.”

“Preston was dumbfounded. In all his twenty years he had never heard no Negro speak like a damnyankee. ‘Did your mother know what she was doing was agin’ the law, dat she could’a been whipped, sold or even kilt for teaching you dat stuff?”

“Excuse me for saying so, sir, but slaves have been whipped for a damn site less than education and my daddy was sold south for no reason except profit.”

Preston’s porcelain white skin was infused with a blush so red as to nearly match his flaming hair. “Well Ah’ll be damned, Ah’ll be goddamed! Ah ain’t never heard nor seen nuttin’ lak dis in all ma born days! I have a suggestion, fine sir, (laughing at himself and the situation). Why don’t ya call yerself Nathan Mandigo? Jes’ plain ‘Mandigo’ sounds pretty African. But Nathan souns very ‘merican. I guess we is all gonna have ta git use ta callin’ ourselfs ‘Americans after dis war is over, not no Northerner nor Southerner, Rebel nor damnyankee. Lots of. . . eh. . . Ex. . . eh. . . free. . . eh slav. . . er dat is. . .Negros. . . er . . . black folks is gonna be runnin; round with onliest one name. You gotta have two! Yer African name what yer daddy gived ya, and a ‘merican name.”

“Well, Mr. Preston, I do declare. That is one fine idea. And eloquently, if somewhat crudely stated. Thank you, Mr Preston!”

“Yer very welcome, (smiling broadly), Mr. Mandigo.” And then Prest did something he had never done before, a gesture that amazed him in its utter simplicity and . . . rightness. He held out his hand for the first time in his life to shake a black hand.

The young men, one musky dark, the other pale as ice, grinned widely and went on pumping hands for so long that Sean laughingly surmised they might bring water to the surface.

Back at the campsite, Sean and Nathan began to prepare supper, while Preston went off to practice his quick draw. His practice was somewhat ineffective, perhaps, since he had only one cartridge left, which he was not about to waste, but he had to admit, even to himself, that he was getting very fast indeed.

As he strolled back into the campsite, his gun and holster slung low and tied off just above the knee, he called the two boys over to demonstrate his rapidly improving skill. First he showed Sean that he had removed all the cartridge from the pistol, then squared Sean off in front of him. “Now Sean, When Ah say now, you clap yer hands, lak dis.” (demonstrating). “Ready? Now!”

Sean had truly clapped his hands together as quickly as he could, but amazingly, Preston had drawn the pistol from its holster and laid the muzzle between Sean’s hands more quickly than he could clap.

“Wow! Very impressive, Prest! Show me again.”

“Okey, but dis time, don’t tell me when yer gonna clap.”

Over and over again, without fail, Preston demonstrated that he could draw faster than Sean could clap, even when he didn’t know it was coming.

That night, lying together under stars so numerous as to actually shine light upon the two lovers, they discussed the events of the day. On most nights now, when the chill and the danger level permitted, the boys slept together naked beneath one set of blankets, rather than in separate bed rolls, their clothes near at hand for emergencies. Sean told Preston he was amazingly proud of the way Prest had so quickly changed his attitude toward Nathan. Preston had countered that if the Confederacy lost this war, which he had to reluctantly admit looked like the future, many many attitudes would require changing, and not only in the south. “You know, Sean, he said, “mah hole life, mah feelin’s bout everthin’ has turned upside down, ever since that day you dragged me inta dat cave and Ah is still tryin’ ta figur out if dat’s a good thang.” He laughed softly, his breath in Sean’s face. “Now dis.” he said, grasping Sean’s cock with both hands, “dis is a good thang.” He began softly stroking the huge member as he leaned closer to kiss Sean’s face. “And this!”

Sean leaned in, his lips firm, moist and hot. His fingertips went to the back of Preston’s neck drawing their faces more tightly together. When they had first kissed, months ago and months after they had first fucked one another, this most intimate of actions had felt strange to both boys, their growth of beard scratchy and weird on each others faces, but now their lips and tongues met freely, lavishly, licking and nibling and sucking ardently.

“Well, Pres,” Sean said softly, “what did you think today when you saw me washing Nathan?” As he spoke he softly kissed Pres’ cheeks and neck, ran his hands gently up and down and all over the youngsters smooth white body, caressed his slim, wrinkle free cock and tight little balls. Tickled and teased at the firm globes of his tender young ass and the soft tight fuzz covered crack between.

“Wha’dya mean, wha’did Ah think?’

“I mean, where you turned on by that nice looking body and that smooth black cock? Or were you angry and jealous that I might start something with someone else? Or were you disgusted by the whole thing?”

“Hmm. Ah think Ah’d hafta say yes to all of that.”

” My turn to say what do you mean?”

“Sssh!” Pres squirmed and writhed under Sean’s tender touch mostly caressing Sean’s huge cock with both his hands. It was becoming more and more difficult to concentrate on the conversation, but he continued. “Ah mean Ah was disgusted at first. Dis whole Negra thang is gonna be a little hard ta git used ta. But then I was worried you’d lak him and . . . you know. . . well, ya know Ah were kinda jealous.”

“So you are tellin’ me that you weren’t interested in him at all, not turned on by his body or that smooth black thing hanging there?”

“Well Ah sorta was, but ya know Ah ain’t even yet convinced that Ah lak boys instead of gals, ‘cept fer you a course!” and saying this he bent and took the swollen, plum sized head of Sean’s cock in his mouth, his cheeks bulging, his tongue swirling around and around, before returning to kiss Sean’s mouth.

“Well.” Sean said, “I was very turned on by the sight of that long thin smooth black body. But I didn’t try anything with him because of you, because I wasn’t sure how you would feel about it and I won’t do anything to endanger what we have together. Also I didn’t want to . . . you know. . . to assume that because I was white and he was a Negro that he. . .well. . . had to do . . . er. . . anything. You know what I mean? Oh Ooh, yeah do that some more!”

As their kisses intensified and roamed over checks and shoulders and necks and nipples, their bodies squirmed and rubbed and thrust against each other, both cocks rigidly upward. Each dick sliding, bumping and banging against the others moistening hardness and against bellies, thighs, legs and balls. Their hands roamed and roved and grasped and pulled and squeezed. The ardor and strength of their caresses growing ever more intense, their bodies seeking to join in fevered need. Each boy began to moan softly as the intensity of their union rose, in counterpoint to the far off sounds of wolves howling out their identities in the star filled night.

Across the campsite, in the flickering flare of the dying fire, Nathan Mandigo, the proud new African-American citizen, heard the sounds emanating from the joined couple and sighed deeply. He, too had enjoyed the fervid joining of loins, enjoyed it with members of both sexes, with black and with white.

When Mandigo had been only eleven, the son of his white master, age 20, had forced him to have sex for the first time. He had informed Nathan if he did not do as he was told, his mother would be sold South. The young slave’s first time had been extremely painful, doubly so because the young master had had no concern for nicety, or tenderness, but had simply taken him as would a brutal animal. And so it had been with all the times he had been penetrated, brutally taken, by his master. Nathan had grown to truly hate the young master. There had followed years of abuse of all kinds, until, finally, Nathan, at fifteen, had become too old. The master had then moved onto Nathan’s younger brother, Caleb. After that, Nathan had had encounters with slave women, one of whom was later the mother of his only child, Aaron, but she and the boy had indeed been sold south and now resided somewhere in the Mississippi delta country. Della, for that had been her name, had been sweet and warm and full of juice, and full of passion for Nathan.

Somehow, after that, the long years of his sexual servitude had begun to influence his choice of companions and he had chosen several male slaves for his emotional and sensual fulfillment, as well as several more luscious female companions.

And now, as he lie there in the chilling night, beneath a single blanket, his own dark smooth manhood began to rise and strengthen at the sounds wafting across from the two lovers. He reached down and began to stroke himself, picturing himself sandwiched between the two white boys, giving and receiving. His mind flicked back to earlier in the day, when the white boy, Sean had touched him, washed him in the river. Had the other boy, the southerner, not been watching, Mandigo might have reached out and touched the boy in response, but he had restrained himself. He would chance nothing that might endanger his flight to freedom and he had feared the young rebel boy.

And now the sounds from across the campsite began to intensify. The obvious sounds of two bodies slapping together with strength and urgency. One of the boys was softly crying out “OH! OH!’ over and over as if unable to contain and quiet himself. The black boy pictured a large white penis, for he had noticed the size of Sean inside his trousers. The sounds went on and on. Mandigo altered his strokes to match the sounds the boys were making, stroking himself now more swiftly, now more slowly. Harder, then more gently. He imagined Sean’s thick white dick repeatedly piercing the cute, very white behind of the smaller, younger boy. His hand flew up and down on his smooth black rod, gripping tighter and tighter, pounding faster and faster.

Drifting from across the way, the other boy’s voice crying out, also stifled but somewhat louder, “Yes, oh my God, yes,” brought the final impulse as Nathan’s slim, dark penis shot forth its stream of thick white cum, coating his black fist and splashing on his ebony chest and thighs.

Morning rose gray and uncertain, the promise of southern summer hung in the air, but a chill morning dew covered all. The boys were slow to start and slow to rise, so the sun was well up before their first coffee. Preston was somewhat easier with the presence of the Negro, but a bit startled when Sean shared his cup with the black. This was going to take some getting used to, but if the south should lose the war, which looked more and more likely, then many lives and ideas would have to change. Pres had decided some days ago that he would wear his gun on his hip now every day. He was somewhat fearful of these uncertain and violent times.

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