Fort Bent

"No, I can't, not in his bed," Bob whispered, his voice laced with shock.

"Don't tell me you can't. Don't tell me you didn't just give it all to me. Don't try to tell me you don't want my cock. Tell me for true. Has anyone else ever fucked you as good as I can?"

"No," Bob answered meekly. It was the truth. He knew he couldn't hide that truth from Jacques.

Then, more gently, Trebec said, "You have to face it someday. What is done is done. What I did out there today, I had to do. For his sake. If anyone makes it out of this hell hole alive, it should be you."

"So that you can fuck me again?" Bob asked, eyes flashing.

"Oh, I'm going to fuck you again," Trebec said, with a smile. "Now. You are going to show me that you want it by fucking yourself. Look at this cock. You seen anything more ready for you than this? Have you ever wanted a cock more than you want this one?"

Hendrick whimpered, not being able to take his eyes from Trebec's controlling gaze. After a few minutes, he rose from his bed; padded over to the other bed; climbed on top of Trebec, who now lay flat on his back; positioned his hole on Trebec's reengorged cock; and lowered his channel on the shaft. The tinker let Bob fuck himself on the cock for several minutes, and then he lifted his knees, pitching Bob forward into his enclosing embrace, caught Bob's mouth with his lips, placed his feet on the surface of the bed to provide leverage, and began to piston Bob's channel again. Bob couldn't help himself. He set his channel muscles into rippling along the cock again—just as Jacques liked.

Sometime in the night, Bob woke to find that Trebec was gone and the door into the adjoining barracks room was slightly ajar. Assuming that the French Canadian was roaming the fort, finding a young private to debauch again, Bob pulled on his skivvies and went out to the barracks room. Nothing going on there except for men in fitful sleep, the result of exhaustion in spite of growing fear and anticipation of the worst.

He went out onto the parade ground. The sentry in the shed by the gate looked sheepish when he approached, and Bob looked around carefully, assuming that the tinker had been there. But there was no sign of him.

"Where is he?"

The private obviously knew exactly who Bob meant.

"He's out there, Lieutenant."

"Out there? Out where?"

"Beyond the gate. He said that he knew the Apaches and that they were making a point with Lieutenant Anderson and Henry—that there weren't many of them and that they would now go make a point at one of the other forts. He said he thought we'd have time to send out another party, that the Apaches won't be back for a day or two. He said he would check to see if any were there."

"And you let him go?"

"He is very persuasive."

"Did he persuade you before, during, or after he fucked you?"

The sentry lowered his eyes and looked embarrassed. That was all the answer Hendrick needed.

"There's nothing to be helped now. Just be very careful when letting him back in—if he ever returns. I'll send two more men out to you to help guard the gate in case it gets attacked."

"The Apaches don't attack at night, sir. Everyone knows that."

"And everyone knows they shouldn't let a man fuck them while they are on sentry duty too," Hendrick said sharply. Then he turned, returned to the barracks, roused two of his best men from the remaining dozen, and sent them out in the dark. He then went back to bed—but to his own bed, not to George's, and sank into a fitful sleep, knowing that there, indeed, was nothing else to be done.

Jacques was there in the morning, shortly after dawn, announcing his presence by mounting Hendrick's ass in a morning fuck, once more dressed in his buckskins, his lowered codpiece flapping against Bob's butt cheeks as he pumped. When he'd ejaculated, he lay full length on Hendrick's back and whispered in his ear. "I went out of the fort during the night."

"I know you did."

"There are no Apaches out there. There is a window of opportunity for a party to attempt to reach Fort Sumner again."

"Only two of the last party were brought back by the Apaches," Hendrick whispered. "There's a good chance the third made it."

"Not enough chance to rely on. There must be another attempt. You must go yourself. You said you were the best horseman here."

Hendrick didn't answer immediately. The question was whether anyone should attempt it at all, not whether he should be the one to do so. Of course he should. It was his responsibility.

"I don't know about leaving you here with the remaining men. You'd debauch them all."

"And they would enjoy it. And it might be the last pleasure they have. I've only fucked two so far; others have been resistant. Take those two with you."

"So that you can move on to fresh ass?"

"Are you looking for excuses not to go?"

"No, no. You're right. I'll take those two and go."

As soon as he and the two privates could down a breakfast, they were off.

* * * *

Jacques had been right. There were no Apache braves warpathing between them and where they met up with the relief troops and supply wagons from Fort Sumner. Bob had been right too, though. The third soldier in the original party had made it to Fort Sumner.

In the end it didn't matter, however. They didn't get back to Fort Bent in time.

When they arrived there, the fort had been burned to the ground. The bodies of six young soldiers were found in the smoldering ruins of the barracks, and only three bodies, riddled with arrows and scalped, were found out in the compound. The fort had been surprised and taken before the soldiers could be mustered out of their beds.

The shock and realization to Lieutenant Hendrick was to note that the body of Jacques Trebec wasn't there. Neither was his wagon and horses. Hendrick said nothing to his captain who had returned with the relief column, but he knew exactly what it meant that Jacques wasn't there.

Jacques had aided the Apaches. He had gotten them into the fort. He had made his views on the settlers being brought into this land quite clear, and those views matched what the Apaches thought about it.

But Jacques could have done that earlier than he did, certainly on the night before Bob had ridden out of the camp. It had been Jacques who had maneuvered Bob to be the one to leave. Jacques had known that Bob wouldn't encounter Apaches, because he had arranged for that. And Jacques had known that Bob wouldn't be in the fort when he handed it over. The man had told Bob he was going to save him. He just hadn't told him how.

Bob wondered what he would do the next time he encountered Jacques—and he knew there would be a next time. Would he try to kill him or would he lay down for him and open his legs? Bob wasn't sure he wanted to know what he'd do. It did anger him that Jacques probably already knew what that would be. And so too, if he was being honest, did Bob.