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Message-ID: <47531asstr$1082369403@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: oldbill2@comcast.net
Subject: {ASSM} Rebel 020
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Date: Mon, 19 Apr 2004 06:10:03 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Rebel 020.txt" begin>

Rebel 23  Captain Susan Simon

	"Somewhere in those hills," Lt. Foster said, jabbing at the 
crude map, "in one of these thin valleys most likely, there's a 
company of militia.  George, you go find them and see if you can 
persuade them to come in and join up with us.  Might make up for 
some of the recent desertions."  He turned to me with a sneer.  
"And, sirrah, if you're not too busy with the girls and that jug of 
yours, go find the irregulars in this area, just a small bunch we're 
told, and see if you can bring them in."  He indicated an area the 
size of a shilling, perhaps ten square miles on his map.

	 "Got any names?" I asked.

	"Not a one," he said.  "Give you three days then we'll take 
you off the payroll."

	"Payroll," George guffawed, "Some payroll that is!"

	"Get goin'," said the lieutenant, heading back to his tent and 
the bawd keeping his bedroll warm for him.

	I got my grub, ammunition and horse together, looked again at 
the map, and set off.  By night fall I was in the middle of the region 
to which I had been sent and did not have even the smell of any 
military activity by either side.

	I stopped at a small inn, saw to my horse, hid my musket, and 
dined on meatpies and sweet ale.  The tavern wench was older than 
my grandmother, and I was ready to find a space in the stable for 
my bedroll when I overheard some interesting conversation.  I 
bought a pitcher of beer and pulled my chair around to the table 
behind me.

	"Drink, men?" I asked, showing my best smile.  The pitcher 
came back to me empty and I hoisted it and asked for a refill.  
"Heard you talking about some action," I said, "Somebody counting 
dead Germans?"

	"Who the hell are you?" asked the farmer on my right.

	"Man looking to get in the fight," I said.  "Want to kill me some 
Redcoats before they're all gone."

	"Where you been?"  asked another.

	"Wintered in Canada, I said, "come back with a fever.  I'm 
better, just a shiver now and again."

	Two men nodded and one said, "With `Gomery, was ye?"

	"Aye," I said, "poor fellow, walked right into it, he did."  The 
pitcher went around again and came back empty again.  This went 
on for some time until one admitted that a certain 'Simon' was the 
leader of a small pack of locals that had been out harassing the 
Tories and the Redcoats and Hessians, 'counting coup' he called it.

	"And where might I find this Simon?" I asked.  Several men 
looked at each other, raised eyebrows and made faces.

	"You're a stranger.  Can y'stay here a day?" one lean man 
asked.

	I nodded.  "If it means getting into the fight."

	"Might be," he said.  "You unnerstan'.  Not sure we kin trust 
ya."

	I nodded and bought some more beer.  It was a thirsty bunch.

	About noon the next day while I was currying my mare, a tall 
man walked into the stable and asked, "Who's this lookin' fer a 
fight?"

	I stood and stuck out my hand and said my name.  He ignored 
my hand and looked me up and down a time or two.

	"You soldiered some?" he asked.

	I nodded.

	"Where y'from?"

	"Maryland," I said.  "You recruiting?"

	"Not really," he said.  "County won't support but a small 
company.  We keep the peace and burn out a Tory or two."

	"Like to get back in the fight," I said.

	"Saddle up," he told me.  "You got a weapon?"

	I fetched my musket, and he examined it.  Then we rode out a 
mile or two, and then round and about, wasting time while he tried 
to confuse me, and up a winding trail to a small valley with a good 
stream at the foot of a granite hillside.  By then the sun was starting 
to get down behind the taller trees.  We dismounted and a 
youngster came and took our horses.  I followed the lean man 
whose name had yet to be spoken into a small lean-to with a pine 
bough roof.

	"Cap'n," the man said to the narrow-shouldered person 
seated at a shaky table.

	She looked up and put down her quill, arching her heavy 
eyebrows.  "Barley," she said.  "This the man?"

	He nodded.

	"Good," she said.  "You can go."

	He gestured at his forehead and turned on his heel.  I stood 
and admired the woman seated before me, mid-twenties I guessed, 
well-built, short-hair and good jaw, long lashes and gray eyes; a 
very interesting face, not beautiful perhaps, but interesting.

	"What's your name?" she asked.

	I told her and then said, "And yours?"

	"Simon," she said, "Susan Simon.  My father was killed at 
White Plains, Second New York Volunteers.  Two of my brothers 
have been captured; don't know if they're alive.  I'm the next oldest 
so I inherited this job."

	I nodded, hoping she was going to ask me to sit down.

	"You a good shot?" she asked.

	"With a rifle," I said.  "Just ordinary with a musket and bad as 
any with a pistol."

	She hefted a short, big barreled weapon from the floor.  "I use 
this," she said, "usually with buck and ball."

	"Looks like an old blunderbuss," I said.

	"Terrible thing if you get close enough, and we get close; got 
no rifles."

	I nodded.

	"Sit," she said.  I found a stool and pulled it up.

	She put her fist to her chin and squinted at me.  "For some 
reason," she said, "I don't believe you, not entirely.  What's your 
game?"

	"I'm in the army," I said, made confident by her confidence 
and awed by her direct gaze, "Continental army.  I was sent to find 
you, this company, and see if I can talk you into joining up with us."

	She nodded and put her big weapon down carefully.  "You 
want George Washington to take in a female officer?"

	"I doubt it," I said, trying to looked ashamed, shrugging.

	"But you'd take my men?"

	"We've been losing people," I said.

	"So we heard."

	"Think we'd do better together," I said.

	"You think that?" she asked with a smile.

	"No," I said, returning her smile.  "I don't get paid to think."

	She nodded.  "They might be right, whoever's doing the 
thinking.  But so far we've been lucky, and I believe we're doing 
some good, clearing our area, letting people keep their animals and 
their crops, get in their harvest."

	"You've had a few run-ins?"

	"Yep," she said, "mainly with confiscators, both German and 
English, horse thieves, small patrols.  This is a sort of backwater.  
We've always had them outnumbered, every fight."

	A man came bustling in, breathing hard. He ignored me.  
"Cap'n," he said, "Germans, lots a'them, over by the creek and 
heading' this way, mounted."

	"How many?" the woman asked, standing and closing the 
ledger before her.

	"Don' know," he said.  "Didn' stick around to count, hoard of 
`em, bluecoats."

	"All right," she said, "calm down and go sound the alarm bell."

	"Can I help?" I said.

	"Get your weapon," she said, "follow me and stay close.  I still 
don't trust you."

	Standing, Susan Simon was another story altogether.  She was 
about five-foot-eight and went a good nine stone, a big, long-legged 
woman with muscular thighs and a full chest who filled out her 
man's puffy-sleeved shirt completely and stretched the material of 
her britches wonderfully.  She wore high boots and a heavy belt, 
and she had not bothered to button her shirt much or maybe she 
could not.  She did not have to ask me twice to follow her, and the 
view from the back was as interesting and stimulating as that from 
the front.  I tried to get my mind on fighting as I jogged along 
priming my piece, but my blood coursed into my groin nevertheless 
as I mentally stripped her.

	The jaegers smashed past whatever sentries there were and 
into the small camp while the alarm bell was still whanging, and I 
followed the running woman to the base of the hill where a trench 
had been scraped out.  We scrambled in, and I reared up and fired 
and then reloaded as the Germans dismounted.

	"How many men you got?" I asked her after I rammed my ball 
home and noted her hardened nipples.  Fights evidently excited her 
as they did me; I was nearly fully erect and the head of my root was 
crawling down toward my knee.

	"Two dozen if they're all here," she said, looking about, her 
eyes narrowed. "Looks like maybe half that right now."  The 
sporadic firing became more organized.

	"I'd judge there's at least a score of Hessians out there, tough 
men from the look of them," I said, rising up to shoot again into a 
cloud of powder smoke and rearing animals.

	"Duck!" she yelled and fired over my back at a blue-coated 
soldier who had jumped into our trench only a few yards off.  Her 
blast almost tore him in two, splattering us both with blood and bits 
of flesh.

	She began reloading and I stood and saw a half-dozen men 
running toward me.  "Hurry," I said to her, holding my fire while 
my heart pounded and my brain said 'flee.'

	When they were five strides off, I nudged her with my foot 
and said, "Now!" as I fired and ducked to reload.  She stood and 
blasted away.  The screams were all around as a man jumped over 
the trench and quickly turned to aim at us, his foot slipping, a scowl 
on his mustached face.  I threw a rock at him, yanked out my ram 
rod and shot him down.  Then I looked for the rod.

	"We'd better get out of here," I said loudly.

	The woman nodded, pouring powder into her weapon.  She 
stuck two fingers into her mouth and whistled shrilly, three times.  
Then she dumped a palmful of buckshot down her barrel, thumped 
the butt of her weapon on the earth and scrambled out of the 
trench.  I was right behind her, clamping on my bayonet while I 
admired her lithe body and entertained ungentlemanly thoughts 
about her rounded hips at a very inopportune time.

	The Germans' fire thunked into tree trunks and clipped leaves 
and branches as we zig-zagged into the woods. 

	"Climb," the tall woman yelled at me as she slung her weapon 
over her shoulder and clambered up the rocky hill.  I turned to look, 
saw no pursuit, got my musket on my back and followed her up the 
hillside on all fours.  A cave mouth opened from a ledge about thirty 
yards up the slope, in an area bare of trees, and the woman 
crouched there, priming her weapon and panting, her shirt gaping 
open invitingly, her dark hair almost covering her face, her tight-
fitting britches ripped at one knee.

	 I got my breath, sheathed my bayonet and loaded my musket.  
The whole fight probably had not lasted five minutes, and we heard 
a bit of desultory firing back where it had begun and then silence.

	"They seldom take prisoners," I said.

	She nodded.  "Except women."

	"Yes, that's true," I said, feeling a shudder pass through me.

	"Now what?" she wondered, sitting back on her thick 
haunches and buttoning her shirt.

	"What do your people do, just scatter?" I asked.

	She nodded and clamped her lips together.  "We go to earth, 
vanish if we can."

	"And you think half of your outfit missed that little action?"

	"Something like that," she said.

	"Looks like somebody betrayed you."

	"Might be you," she said.  "I know everybody else."

	"There was talk about you in the tavern last night," I told her.

	She nodded and took a deep breath.  "Look," she said, 
pointing.

	Several men in blue uniforms were coming out of the woods 
near the base of our hill along with one man in ordinary farmers' 
clothes, a straw hat low on his forehead.  They stopped and the one 
evidently in charge shaded his eyes and looked up in our general 
direction.  I saw sunlight glint from glass lenses.

	"Simon," he yelled, "Susan Simon, ve know you iss up dere.  
Dey's all kaput, dead, tot, all uf dem.  Ve know your hiding places."

	The woman looked at me, and we backed up a bit toward the 
shallow cave which was little more than a depression in the irregular 
hillside.

	"Ve can vait, ja," he yelled.  "You can starf up dere, 
verhungeren."  I saw him turn to the men with him and point.  I 
sheltered her with my body when the firing began, but they were 
able to hit nothing but stones and soon gave it up.  
 The woman looked at me strangely when I let her up.

	Several small stones rolled down the hill from above us, 
clattered past to our hiding place.  The man below laughed.  A large 
stone bounced down the hill and then several more, but the ridge 
above sheltered us if just barely.  It also made it difficult to see what 
was going on.

	I rammed my charge again, returned my rod to its place and 
checked my priming.

	"Too long a shot," the young woman said.

	"Maybe not," I told her, "Fifty, sixty yards or so; might get 
lucky."

	I waited for the next bunch of stones and small boulders to 
tumble by, slid on my belly to the edge of our shelf and drew down 
on the men clumped together on the edge of the treeline and looking 
up the hill.  I braced my weapon, aimed high and squeezed.  Then I 
scrambled back just into time to miss a half dozen more good sized 
rocks bouncing past us.

	"You hit him?" the woman asked.

	"Not sure," I said, reloading and checking that I had a good, 
round ball before I pushed it in the muzzle.

	"Simon," the same voice cried.  "Susan Simon, don' be a torich, 
a fool."

	"Go to hell," the woman yelled, and then she smiled at me.

	A small avalanche of stones bounced down the hill followed by 
some scrambling sounds.  I lay on my back, inched out so I could see 
up the rise and found myself looking at a man's boots and bottom as 
he was being lowered on a rope toward us.  I inched back, smiled at 
the woman, and said, "Your shot, I think, madam.  Step out quickly 
and you'll find him right above you, about ten yards, just to your 
right."

	She cocked her weapon, stepped fearlessly to the edge of our 
hiding place, put the gun to her shoulder and fired.  The boom 
echoed off the hills and a bloody body with a severed rope hit our 
shelf and then spun off to rumble down the hillside, staining it with 
blood.

	Another volley of fire from below chipped stones about us, but 
that was the end of the Germans' attempt to dislodge us for a while.   
We sat back in the shade; I put my arm about Captain Simon's 
shoulder and she leaned her head back on mine as we sat against 
the rock wall, legs outstretched, hers nearly as long as mine.  We 
watched the sun slide out of sight and dark cover the earth below 
us, trying to calm our breathing, discarding plan after plan in our 
minds, now breathing in rhythm.

	"Now what?" I whispered to her.

	"Um?" she said, her hand on my leg.

	"Think they're still out there?"

	"One or two, maybe," she said.

	"Shall we go find out?"

	"Kick one of those big rocks over the edge," she suggested.

	"Moon will be up soon," I said as I pushed the biggest stone 
until it disappeared and we could hear it bounce and clatter down 
the hill.  There seemed to be no response.

	"Do it again," she said, and then, "No, wait.  I hear something.  
Listen."  She grabbed my arm.

	Someone was climbing the hill, maybe more than one person.  
We could hear the labored breathing and the occasional smattering 
of small stones as well as the crunching of brush.  Whoever it was, 
he or they were pretty close.  I put my bayonet back on my musket 
and the woman cocked her weapon.  We lay on our bellies, hoping 
to silhouette our attackers against the star-filled sky.

	They both came from the left where the ridge we were on had 
a narrow continuance, and they were armed with pistols.  They 
were on us before we saw either of them.  I heard a crunch and 
rose to my knee to jab into the dark when a pistol exploded almost 
in my face.  I jumped up and jabbed again, nearly blinded by the 
muzzle flash, my right foot sliding off the edge briefly.  My blade hit 
something.  A man screamed, and I pulled the bayonet loose as the 
woman's oversized musket roared almost in my ear.

	We could hear the two bodies roll down the hill, stirring up 
stones and crashing through the underbrush until it was quiet again 
except for a few late pebbles and a lonely moan.

	
 "You all right?" the woman asked as the moon began its climb 
above the horizon.

	"Think so," I said. "You?"

	"Got nicked," she said.  "Nothing really."

	The moon slowly rose behind me, and I could see her eyes and 
a trickle of black blood on her cheek.  A splinter of stone was 
embedded in her eyebrow.  I held her chin with my left hand and 
dislodged it with my right.  She smiled up at me, and I bent and 
touched her lips with mine.  Then we crawled back as far as we 
could, sat together again and waited.  It was very quiet except for 
the usual night noises. I wished I had a canteen.

	"Rest," I said to her.

	"Maybe we can get out of here the way those two got in."

	"Not while the moon is up," I said, putting my arm about her, 
my fingers touching her upright breast gently.

	"I'm cold," she said.

	I reached down, grabbed her butt and pulled her nearly atop 
me, wrapping her in both arms.

	She snuggled her head on my chest.  "That's nice," she said, 
"but I can hear your heart thumping and my thigh is getting signs of 
your, let's say, your arousal."

	"Sorry," I said.  "Try this." I let her slide off and turned my 
back to her.  "Get up close, put your arm under mine."  She made 
her body conform, breasts against my back, knees under my thighs.

	"Damn hard bed," she whispered.

	"Rest," I said.

	"Maybe the other way, you behind me."

	"Don't think so," I said with a chuckle, "Arousal, you know."

	"Uh huh, might be our last chance." she said, wiggling closer, 
her hand sliding down from my chest.  I refused to think about that.  
We were quiet for a while, and I believe she fell asleep although she 
was right about the hardness of our resting place.  Except for a few 
mossy spots and some pine needles we lay on a rock shelf and not a 
very smooth one.  I kept my ears active and enjoyed the feel of her 
body on my back, her hand on my belly.  Then I suppose I fell 
asleep.

	"It's dark," the woman behind me said, jabbing a thumb into 
my ribs.

	It was, and I sat up and banged my head on the outcropping 
above us.  I cursed and she snuffled back a laugh.  I looked up at 
the western sky and saw black clouds rolling in, their edges silvered 
by the sinking moon.  The world was gray rather than black.

	"I have to piss," I said, more or less to myself.  I stepped to the 
edge of our hiding place and let fly, ignoring the woman behind me.  
I could not hear it land.

	"How gallant," she said under her breath.

	I half-expected to draw a shot, but when I was finished and 
had not, I decided we should try to get away from our lonely 
hillside.  "You're right," I told her.  "If those men got in along the 
side, we should be able to get out.  Ready to try?"

	She nodded and slung her short weapon over the back.  We 
crept along the narrow ledge, bellies to the rock, fingers touching 
now and again.  I went first, feeling with my booted toes and trying 
to do it soundlessly.  In several places the ledge seemed to end but 
then pick up again a yard or so away.  We stretched past those 
breaks and in fifteen or twenty minutes reached some trees where 
the land flattened out.  I doubt she could have made it if her legs 
were shorter.  We were still well above the forest where the 
woman's company had camped but no longer on vertical terrain.

	Susan grabbed my arm, pulled herself to me and hugged me.

	"Know where we are?" I said to the top of her head, enjoying 
the firm feel of her.

	"Not really," she said, pushing herself from my grip.

	In the ghostly light we made our way into the woods and 
away from the battle of yesterday.  When we reached a seldom-
used road, I asked her which way, and then followed her lead 
more-or-less westward. It started to rain, very lightly at first, barely 
a mist, but then some pretty big drops.  At the bottom of the first 
hill, we found a broken and abandoned mill, its ruined wheel sitting 
cockeyed and its roof half gone.  I pushed open the door, scattering 
a few birds or bats, and pulled the woman inside, turning her to face 
me.  Both of us with soaked heads and shoulders.

	"Now," I said, holding her with both hands, one on her 
buttocks and the other in the small of her back, her belly pressing 
mine, "you were saying a while ago, something about arousal and a 
last chance?"

	 "Fool," she said, stretching up to find my mouth with hers.

	In a sheltered corner, we put aside our weapons, took off our 
heavy belts, opened our britches and joined our bodies wordlessly, 
kneeling in the weeds and wind-gathered debris, ignoring the cold 
and the damp.  She linked her hands behind me and I held her hard 
butt, and we leaned back and had at each other, smiling and gritting 
our teeth.  I came before she did and rammed onward until she 
shuddered and spasmed, gasping out breaths and heaving against 
me.  I lowered us to the ground, rolled to my back and held her on 
me until we started again, very slowly at first and eventually with 
the strong woman rearing atop me, hands on my ribs, bouncing and 
gasping with pleasure, her limp hair brushing my face and her eyes 
gleaming in the dark.

	"Hope that wasn't the last time for either of us," I whispered 
to her mouth as we later lay side by side.

	"Ah," she said.  "Ah, that was fierce."

	Then we slept, ignoring the leaky roof and wrapped in each 
others arms and legs.  We awoke to the sound of horses on the 
muddy road.

	I rolled off to a sitting position, aware of my straining erection, 
and Susan sat up beside me, her hand on my thigh and then her 
fingers on my thick spear, stroking its length.  The sun was well up 
but the world was still gray and dripping.

	"What," she said quietly, absentmindedly stroking my 
manhood.  "Who?"

	"Dragoons," I said to her.  "Lancers, whatever they're called."

	"They've stopped," she whispered, her hand now on my back 
and face beside mine, peering through a crack in the wall.

	"Watering their horses," I said.  "Only a dozen; shall we 
attack?"

	She pulled me down and kissed me hard.  We waited, barely 
breathing, my hard and active manhood trapped between us, and 
the patrol soon left, not curious about the inside of the tumbled-
down place.  I was certainly not ready for a fight, but I did roll 
Susan to her back and introduce her to my morning thruster, my 
massive spar.  She enjoyed it and our efforts as much as I did, 
wrapping me in her legs as I filled her. We were quickly at it full 
speed, devil take the hindmost.

	"My," said a harsh male voice, above and behind me, "isn't this 
pretty?"

	The woman scraped up her gun from beside us and blasted 
the unseen voyeur while I was still attempting to dismount from her 
yearning body.  I rolled over, grabbed my loaded weapon and 
stumbled to the leaning doorway, stepping over the smoking corpse 
as I did.  Another dragoon stood at the roadside, holding the reins 
of two horse.  When I appeared, he hurried to mount up and as he 
turned his horse, I blew him out of his saddle, and his body tumbled 
into the roadside ditch.

	"Stragglers," I said to Susan when I returned with the dead 
Lancer's purse.  "You seem to have ended a lieutenant's career."

	"Come," she said, lying back, raising her knees and spreading 
them wide, "we're not half done, and they're not going anywhere."

	I rolled her over, lifted her rump and took her from behind, 
holding her wide hips and lunging into her from my knees while she 
grunted with pleasure.  I lifted her hips a bit higher, planted my feet 
near her ears, bent my legs and really spent myself in her, using 
long, hard strokes that brought gasps from her mouth.  We both 
enjoyed our joining and were sorry when we finally pulled ourselves 
apart, admitting sexual exhaustion.  We were, by then, famished as 
well as sated.

	The tavern we found a hour or two later was a place she 
knew and inside was one of her men, a youngster of dog-like 
devotion who was obviously surprised and pleased to see his 
captain.

	We ate ravenously, exchanged stories, and she then sent the 
boy out to gather up what was left of her troop.  "When they get 
here," she said, "you can ask them, try to recruit them.  I'll say 
it is their choice."

	Then we went up to the only room the place had, got out of 
our clothes and crawled under the covers, delighted to have both 
the time and the energy to enjoy each other. By sunset, she had 
used me up and sat smiling on my loins, large breasts hanging in my 
face, both nipples licked and gnawed.

	"Tired?" she asked, grinding into my pubic bone while I tried 
to keep breathing regularly.

	"A little," I gasped.  "Time to take a rest, I think."

	"Do you? " she said, clamping on my exhausted fid with her 
flexing vagina, rising on her knees and pulling me up with her, 
trapped in her.

	"Aye," I managed to get out, lifting my hips hopefully and 
trying to dislodge her.

	"Come, come, once more, and then we can go get some supper 
and a nice ale."

	"I'm sorry," I admitted, "I'm done for."

	"Oh, I doubt that," she said, "not after this morning's merry 
romp."  She dismounted and bent over my soggy groin, one hand 
on my stomach and the other on my knee.  She licked the sodden 
pipe lying athwart my belly and tickled at my emptied stones.

	"Come," she said, "up, up." She lifted the sagging tube and 
took its spongy head into her warm mouth.    She massaged it with 
her lips and laved it with her tongue, sucking it deeply into her 
throat.

	I kept reminding myself to breathe.  "I'm sorry," I gasped, 
sure I was thoroughly spent.

	"Don't be," she said, letting my swelling member plop from her 
lips but continuing to lick its length as it lay twisted on my belly.  
"You're by far the best I've ever had."  She tweaked its head as if 
she were trying to unscrew it and then stroked the vein that lay 
along its thickening base. Soon, much to my amazement, it was 
trembling back to life, and she looked down on me, wiping her lips 
and smiled.  "Courage," she said, rolling to her back and spreading 
her legs.

	I was soon poised above her, ready to ram deeply, sink it in 
her to the hilt with a single thrust as it trembled in her slit, when 
there was a knock, a very tentative knock at our door.

	"Yes," the woman answered, grabbing my hips and taking 
care of the decision.  I was thoroughly enveloped, and she wrapped 
her legs about me and moved immediately into heaving coitus.

	"Sorry, ma'm," came the shaky voice from without.  "We's all 
here, all that's left."

	"That's fine, Tommy," Susan said calmly while I was losing my 
mind and the bed was creaking and thumping something awful. "I'll 
be down in five minutes."  We double-timed onward.

	"Yes'm," was the answer.

	Those were five minutes I would remember for a long time, 
and when I came, surprising myself as well as the woman writhing 
beneath me, it was explosively and repeatedly.

	"Enough, enough," she gasped shortly thereafter.  "Roll off."

	I managed to do that, and she jumped from the bed as if she 
had just enjoyed a restful nap, hurried into her clothes, smiled at me 
and left the room, still buttoning her shirt.  I rolled to the floor, got 
to my knees, pulled myself upright, dressed on very shaky legs, 
raked back and retied my hair which she had torn loose early on, 
and then carefully descended the stairs, feeling about eighty, had a 
tot of whisky and went to meet with her men.

	They were a motley group, fifteen to fifty I guessed, but 
looking interested and brave, stern faced and doubting.  I explained 
my mission, and Susan asked me to go outside and take a stroll.  
When I returned, the men's spokesman, a farmer with a gnarled fist, 
stood and told me they were not interested.  "Most a'us got families 
here.  Only the boys might go w'you, but they's too young really."

	I nodded and thanked them, praised their fortitude and said I 
would be proud to fight with them any time.

	"How `bout tomorry then?" he said with a smile.  "We's gonna 
hit them Germans, them horse sojers."

	I looked at Susan, and she nodded.  "We know who the 
traitor is now.  He is with them."

	When they left after making some plans, the young woman 
and I ate, made love, slept in each others arms and awoke to a pink 
pre-dawn with barely time to make love again before we had to 
meet her men and jump the Hessians in their camp some five miles 
distant. There were fourteen of us, all well armed, as we hurried to 
the fight.  It took us about an hour to reach our target and to find 
the enemy unprepared.

	The Germans had camped along a narrow stream.  I counted 
ten small tents and one large one.  The cook fires were smoking and 
the single sentry on the road died quietly on a young boy's spike 
bayonet. 

	When we were in place, Susan gave a single, piercing whistle 
and we let fly a sound if ragged volley and charged, screaming like 
 
madmen.  It was a very short and quite brutal fight, and when it 
was done we had lost one boy and had two wounded men, nothing 
serious.  We counted and stripped twenty-one enemy soldiers' 
bodies, and Susan asked if I wanted to take the wounded officer 
back with me.  Someone had pinned the man who betrayed the 
camp to a large tree, and he was in the process of dying slowly, spat 
on by every man that passed by.  The kapitan sat propped against a 
tree, his wounded arm bandaged to his chest.  Someone had already 
taken his boots and sword.

	"We do not want to stay here any longer than need be," the 
woman told me.

	I looked down at the German.

	"You the one who attacked her camp?" I asked him.

	He looked at me with disgust and then spat to the side.

	"How did you know her name?" I asked.

	He stared at me, a hateful look.

	"He's all yours," I said to Susan.

	"No," the man cried.  "Nein."

	"Paulie," Susan cried, and the boy we had met in the tavern 
scampered over.  "Lend me your pistol," she said with a smile.

	He handed it over and stood aside.  Susan cocked the 
weapon, leveled it at the cringing man's face and then lowered her 
aim and shot him in the belly.  She handed the boy back his weapon, 
murmured a thank you, and turned on her heel.

	The German looked down at the blood pulsing from his 
stomach and then fell on his side and pulled up his knees, blubbering 
and moaning.  I was tempted to cut his throat but decided he was 
not mine to deal with and went to find the fair captain.

	"I've got to be going," I said.  "I only had three days."

	"Glad you came anyhow?" she asked with a smile.

	I laughed.  She let me take two of the Germans' horses back 
with me, so Lt. Foster was not altogether disappointed.
	
<1st attachment end>


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