“Yea, I’m the one who always causes a scene,” Pete said laughing walking into the Saloon. Ginger followed him inside. The Saloon was dark, dirt..., and reeked of bile. There were small tables around the place, and men around them drinking. There were also women walking around, the whores of the house. They were constantly leading horny men up and down the stairs to their rooms. The sounds of moaning men could be heard withe laughs of the drunk. Taking a seat at the bar, Pete and Ginger each. He nuzzled the soft roundness of my breasts and they swelled under his kiss almost involuntarily as I took a deep breath. ‘Mmmm, what’s that perfume?’ he murmured. ‘Giorgio.’ I said. ‘Like it? I bought it special for you! You always like things with a little Jasmine.’ He took a deep breath, nose buried against my cleft. ‘Mmmmm, yessssss!’ he sighed. David fondled my mound in gentle circles and his fingers felt nice and comforting between my thighs. ‘Isn’t this … wrong, though? Isn’t this stolen. Five minutes later, the bugle blew again. The same disembodied voice called out, "Mess Call, Mess Call!" and all the inhabitants – some encumbered with infants or toddlers – joined the stream of bodies heading toward the mess room.At the Mess Room, Sandy noted that each pod had its own assigned table, with room for everyone. Enough high chairs had been placed at each table for the infant and toddler contingent. Wendy had the free concubines and dependants get their meals first, and then oversee. This just didn't fit into the Indian psychology of gaining glory for the individual warrior.Every once in a while, there was the exception to the small band of Comanches. One morning, Shiply's Troops topped a small ridge and nearly ran head-on into major Indian encampment. They were seen before they could pull back under cover of the ridge and were forced to make a run for a decent defensive position. John ordered, "BACK TO THE RIVER! WE'LL MAKE OUR STAND THERE!"They made it to the river before.
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