The Georgia Peach - Part 01 free porn video

“Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth, upon this continent, a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war …”

From The Gettysburg Address, Abraham Lincoln - November 19, 1863

Chapter 1 – On the banks of the Oostanuala, May 11th 1864

It was a high rock face, overlooking the dark violence of the swollen Oostanaula river. He sat alone, watching as the early morning arrivals broke ranks and the columns began to disperse in the steady rain preparing to make camp. He felt the coolness run down his neck, the water soaking every part of him, his hat, his clothes, taking the grime and dust with it. A vast sea of mud surrounded them all.

The river was rising again, and was already well beyond their ability to ford, as they might have done before the rains. Now, it was angry and swirling. In the early gloom, the motion accentuated by the small fires that lined the riverbank, a flickering protest to the misery of the weather, the only guiding light the men would have to reach the crossing.

“Good morning Sergeant,” said a sleepy General Sherman, “What news have you brought for me today?”

“Mornin’ Gen’ral. I only deliver the news Sir, I don’t read it,” replied the Sergeant, maintaining an unnecessary diligence.

The General looked at the man, a ‘Bummer’, part of the newly formed foraging troop. He nodded, smiled, acknowledged the departing courier and opened the dispatch.

It was not what he had expected to read, not at all.

It was from Lieutenant Evans Sampson of Logan’s XV Corp. Evans was in charge of a foraging party, but why was he bothering Sherman with details such as this. All of his army now deployed foragers, or ‘Bummers’ as they had been newly termed. He himself had sanctioned the practice. As his army marched into Georgia, although Sherman still had his supply line back to Chattanooga, he needed to reduce his reliance on it and use the natural land to make his army more mobile. So why had Sampson not contacted his commanding officer directly if he had a problem …

… Sherman read on.

“General, Sir, please let me apologise for bringing this matter to your personal attention. In any other context it would be considered incidental but I felt compelled to write you directly when the chief inhabitant of the residence we are in mentioned your name in her defence …”

Chapter 2 – White Orchard Plantation, May 11th 1864

“You do not have to lock nor guard the door Lieutenant; it is my house and I will say what does and does not happen inside its walls.”

Sampson appraised the girl, his gaze moving slowly from her dainty ankle, clad in white silk and exposed just a little above her slipper, to her slender waist and rising bosom pressed tightly to her person by the fashionable crinoline and boned corset underneath the faded peach dress that she wore. Despite the garment being a little careworn, a clear sign of the times, the girl could still be considered beautiful by any man’s standards, especially one who had not enjoyed the company of any woman, never mind a beautiful one, for some time.

As a final and parting imposition he increased the intensity of his stare, assessing her shape, her looks … every delicate feature perfectly formed from her slightly button nose, to her wide long-lashed eyes and high cheeks bones.

The girl, through the curtain of long dark hair that framed her face, returned his scrutiny with a glare of her own. Her expression of reproach reflected the steely determination that had enabled her to persevere through the deaths of both of her parents, and, despite the ever-increasing gravity of these present times, to maintain at least some semblance of normality at White Orchard.

Catherine McCown was only too aware of the generous helping of time that this junior officer allowed his gaze to dwell on her person and it made her uneasy.

“It is for your own protection Miss that I have your room secured. It keeps my men out as well as keeping you in.”

She shivered at his words. Why on earth would he need to concern himself about keeping his own men out of her boudoir? Were they savages?

As he turned to leave, pulling the double doors of Miss McCown’s bedchamber closed, she shouted after him in a most unladylike manner.

“And you make sure that the General receives my message.”

Uncle Billy would sort this misunderstanding out, she just knew he would. ‘Uncle Billy’ was the esteemed General William Tecumseh Sherman, her Godfather, best friend and erstwhile colleague of her late father. Colonel John McCown, had been killed in gallant action at Shiloh Church back in April of ’62, fighting on the opposing side to Uncle Billy.

They had been West Point Graduates together, class of ’40, before she was even born. Since her father’s much-lamented death Catherine had lived on the plantation at White Orchard with a handful of slaves and her Mama, until Pneumonia had taken her too just a few months ago.

She knew that living here on her own, a young girl barely out of her teenage years, with only a handful of slaves for company, was dangerous, especially with the war getting ever closer. But where else would she go?

That goddamned seditionist Lincoln had ‘freed’ the slaves back in ’62, any many had run away from White Orchard just as they did from all of the neighbouring plantations. But some didn’t, and the few that were eventually re-caught and punished served as a warning to others thinking of doing the same. Back then her daddy had warned the negroes that there was no better life, and they should not consider themselves freemen. But now the only slaves that remained were those who had been here so long they had no idea where else to go, or those that lacked the courage to attempt to run. The situation with the slaves was as big a mess as everything else was right now.

Uncle Billy would help her, she was certain of it.

The exasperated Lieutenant took a moment as he stopped outside the girl’s bedroom doors. His hand tightly gripped the door knobs which he had closed behind himself.

Did she really want him to write to the General? He couldn’t do that, could he? But what if what she said was true and he ignored her request. What if she really did know the General … more than that, she said he was her Godfather.

With a resigned sigh he called for Sergeant Oaks. He needed to dictate a message.

Chapter 3 – On the banks of the Oostanuala, May 11th 1864

Sherman had finished his breakfast, bacon and flour biscuits made with the fat. He never ceased to be amazed at what the privations of war caused him to appreciate. In his pre-war time at the at the Academy in Louisiana, such a meal would have been unthinkable, never mind enjoyable, but now …

“I will be back later Lew,” he addressed his Aide-de-camp in personable terms. Lieutenant Colonel Lewis Mulford Dayton had been with Sherman since the beginning of the war and enjoyed the private ear of his commanding officer.

“Sir, Johnston’s army is massing and heading for Resaca, we need to cross the river and steal the high ground, or …”

“Yes, yes Lew, I’m well aware of our needs, and rest assured they will be attended to. But for now, I have troubles of a more personal nature to look into.” Sherman looked the other officer in the eye and Dayton knew that was to be the end of the matter.

“It would be quicker by horse, Sir,” the head of his quickly assembled three-man entourage said in an attempt to encourage the General to fulfil whatever these private obligations were with full haste.

Sherman fixed the trooper with a stare, “Two days ago several of our own men were found hanged just a mile or so from here. I have the report from that unsavoury event to review Captain, and so we will travel by coach, that way I can make better use of my time.”

The previous day had brought a report of four Union Bummers found hanged over by the Pine Road. This place was teeming with Reb guerrilla’s, and Sherman needed to do something about it. He would have Kilpatrick deploy a unit or two of his cavalry, to clear them out of this vicinity.

But that would have to wait just a little while.

The cold, hard rain pelted the driver of the horse-drawn covered carriage as an angry wind added to the man’s misery. Inside the cabin sat Sherman and his guard.

“Signal a left here,” Sherman issued his instructions so that the driver could be kept on track. White Orchard Mansions held many happy memories for the General, but none of them recent. Catherine would have been no more than fifteen when he last visited, and even back then she was already blossoming into a beautiful Southern Belle … a Georgia Peach, her father used to say … he was looking forward to seeing her again.

From where the army was camped, it was only a short distance to the White Orchard Plantation and Farm but he was grateful for the small escort. Times were uncertain these dark days, but even more so when two armies faced each other as closely as Joe Johnston’s was with his now.

The coach slowed to a halt, which was more than the driving rain was doing, as the General and his team disembarked to be met by a pair of very deferential privates from Sampson’s team, and he was immediately covered with a large tarpaulin as they ran inside the dry sanctity of the main house.

The poncho that was part of the General’s seasonal uniform, covered his clothes from the neck to the middle of his thighs, where his lighter blue trousers had rapidly become drenched below the knee as he waited patiently for everyone to reside under cover and the door to be closed shut behind them.

Sherman looked around. The oak panelling, the smell of pine and magnolia that always seemed to permeate throughout this part of the house brought a familiar and happy resonance to him.

Chapter 4 – White Orchard Plantation, Late Morning, May 11th 1864

“We could just pay her a quick visit …” The wide-eyed trooper spoke quietly whilst patrolling the upstairs landing.

“You cannot, the Lieutenant said …”

“I know what he said, but … look I ain’t never had a woman as beautiful as she is, and with this war ‘n’ all, y’just don’ know if tomorrow’s ever gonna come.”

“Well, maybe just a …” it seemed like they were giving serious consideration to their despicable thoughts, when …

“He’s here,” Private Ebenezer Dolan exclaimed from an upstairs window whilst looking out across the muddied lawns of the plantation.

The word filtered quickly downstairs.

“Fuck …” Sampson muttered under his breath, “What I wouldn’t do right now to the little bitch that brought him here …”

What the Lieutenant intended for Miss McCown if he had half a chance stayed inside his head, although the mutterings of the small group of Bummers that had foraged for the past twenty-four hours at White Orchards revealed only too clearly what they would all have liked to do to the poor girl if they ever had the opportunity.

However, for now there was a Major-General to attend to, and Sampson made haste to welcome his Commanding Officer, reaching the spacious hallway of the vast mansion just as General Sherman entered the house and was removing his rain-soaked outer clothing.

“General, how gracious of you to come to us, let me fetch tea … or would you like something a little stronger perhaps?”

With a brief shake of his head, Sherman displayed the demeanour of someone with far more on their mind than sorting out an issue with a foraging party.

“Where is she … Miss McCown, Take me to her please.”

Catherine had lost count of the number of times that she had paced from one side of the room to the other, partly through boredom, in part through fear but also somewhat fuelled by anger! How dare these monsters break into her home and begin to take whatever they liked. Food supplies were low anyway and there was still a number of mouths to feed, and …

“Thank heavens, Uncle Billy has come, I am saved.” She spoke softly and to herself when, looking out through her window, she saw her Godfather step down from the carriage.

Her heart filled with joy and she knew that all would soon be well. This little misunderstanding would be cleared up and the soldiers could remove themselves from her property leaving her to go about her business once more. Maybe the General would stay for supper and tell her stories about her father. Oh, how she would love that.

The doors to her room pushed open and the relaxed, somewhat dishevelled, shape of General Sherman stood bordered by their frame.

“Uncle Billy,” she cried, and ran to fling herself at him.

He caught her and held her tightly to his body. She had been much younger the last time this had happened, and Sherman could, now she was older, feel her shapely, more womanly, figure pressed against him.

It was then that Catherine noticed the soldiers standing behind her Godfather, his entourage staring at their reunion.

She untangled herself and stepped away. The General looked over his shoulder, nodded and said, “Leave us for a short while, please gentlemen.”

With that said he strode into her bedchamber and pulled the doors closed behind him.

“Catherine,” he said intoning the paternal intent behind his words, “How have you been?”

She looked up at him and her bottom lip began to tremble, and a solitary tear fell.

“Oh, it’s been dreadful. Mama was taken by Pneumonia just a few months ago, after the cold Winter …”

Sherman took her into his arms once more, allowing the girl’s head to rest upon his shoulder.

“I was so sorry to hear about your Mother, darling Renee, and felt wretched about not being here for you.”

“We, we … buried her in the cemetery behind the main house, alongside … fath … father …” Catherine struggled to speak and finally gave in to the tears that had welled up.

The General let her cry herself out, and when the little tremors shuddering through her body had ceased, he held her a few inches away from his gaze.

“So, what is all this about, Catherine? Why did you send for me?”

Extricating herself fully from his grip, Catherine moved away to sit at her dresser. Taking up a large brush with an ornate, ivory inlaid handle, she began to idly brush her long hair while she spoke.

“Uncle Billy, these men just appeared on my doorstep yesterday. They demanded I hand over everything I owned that was both edible and valuable. Well, what was I supposed to do? I still have father’s slav … servants …”

Catherine stopped herself from using the word ‘slaves’ as she knew that Uncle Billy had certain views that might not accord with her own on that matter. She knew that he understood the heritage of slavery, and accepted its part in the current lifestyle of certain States, but she was also very aware of his seniority in the Union Army, and right at this very moment she needed his full support.

“… and so, I put up a fight.”

Sherman smiled, imagining how this little devil of a beauty might well have put up a fight. He recalled happier times when she had ‘put up a good fight’ against the parental views of her mother and father.

“And so,” Sherman used his turn to speak, “Lieutenant Sampson put you under house arrest in this room, and was about to forage everything he needed until you mentioned my name? Is that it?”

Catherine lowered her gaze and looked sheepishly up at her Godfather. She nodded slowly, “Yes Uncle Billy, that’s about the measure of it.”

Sherman smiled and once more opened his arms for his beautiful young Goddaughter to feel his embrace.

“Don’t worry my dear, we can sort this matter out. But my soldiers were only acting out their orders, so in truth they have done nothing wrong …” Then with a concerned look on his face, he held her at arms-length so that he could speak to her.

“No one touched you did they Catherine? Because if one hair on your head has been …”

She smiled softly and shook her head, “No Uncle Billy, they were a little coarse and not charming in any way, but, despite them having sojourned downstairs overnight, I remain completely unharmed.”

“That’s good Catherine, my darling girl. Now, I am going to order that the guard to your room be removed, but I advise you to remain in here, alone while I take a moment to speak with the Lieutenant. I am sure the matter can be resolved to everyone’s satisfaction.”

“Thank you, Uncle Billy,” Catherine said softly, stepping onto the tips of her toes to plant a gentle kiss on the General’s bearded cheek.

******

“So, what are we going to do Lieutenant,” Private Ebeneezer Dolan asked of his officer.

Sampson was clearly angry.

“Don’t rightly know Dolan, but what I do know is that fucking bitch has made me look stupid in front of my commanding officer, the Major-General of the whole damn army no less. She needs showing who’s in charge around here …”

“I’d like to get my hands inside that tight dress of hers and fondle those firm mounds she hides under the crinoline.” Sergeant Oaks, the courier from earlier this morning, added.

“Fuck yeah,” was the private’s considered response.

“Lieutenant, might I have a word?” Coming from a Major-General the question was of course, rhetorical. When Sherman appeared Sampson leapt to his feet as quickly as he could, saluted along with the rest of his men, and followed the General into the hallway.

“General, what is the problem, we were only …”

Sherman waived down his opening words. “Yes, yes son, I know you were and you have done nothing wrong. In fact, your handling of the matter has been straight from the manual, exemplary thus far. But …”

Sampson sensed the ‘but’ was coming and steeled himself accordingly. He hated that this young bitch, who needed to have her uppity ass put in its place, was higher up the General’s pecking order than he himself was.

“… but this house is well known to me. The family living here, that is now represented by Miss McCown alone, has been friends to my family since a long time before the war. And so, I ask that we take our leave and find another property to sequester our supplies from.”

The young officer was fuming, seething on the inside, though he knew that he would have to find a structured argument from somewhere if he was to come out on top here.

Nodding with as much of a sage demeanour that a man with such limited life experience could muster, Sampson took a deep breath.

“I understand General, but …” he relished being able to reciprocate the ‘but’.

“… but this place, White Orchards I think they call it, is teeming with supplies. Sheep and Cattle and fruit trees by the dozen. General Sherman Sir, and please forgive me for stating this to you of all people, but we have a battle just a day or two away. And it could be the full might of Old Joe’s Army that we face. We might well get cut off from any source of supply beyond here for the immediate future. If the men were to find out that such a rich source of provisions had been passed up then there would be an outrage.”

Sampson knew that he was very close to overstepping the mark with his statement, but he also knew that what he said was the truth.

The General furrowed his brow as if in deep thought.

Chapter 5 – White Orchard Plantation, Around Midday, May 11th 1864

“Uncle Billy?” Catherine looked up from her seat on the edge of her bed from where she had been staring out of the window and over the fields.

Sherman closed the doors quietly behind his entry and moved towards where his Goddaughter sat.

“Catherine, everything will be fine, trust me, but …”

It was upon hearing that word that the girl’s eyes widened and a little fear seemed to infuse her demeanour.

“… ‘but’, Uncle Billy?”

The General nodded. “I have an army to feed. White Orchard is the last major source of food and supplies before we reach Resaca where we will no doubt …”

He stopped himself from unwittingly revealing any aspect of his campaign to the beguiling girl.

“I cannot make a total exception Catherine …”

Her face dropped and a mix of fear and anger immediately manifested upon her expression.

“… My army needs to eat and to do so it simply must forage from the land. It is the way I have ordered it to be. And so, my dear, dear girl, I must let my men do as they have been ordered. But …”

This time the ‘but’ was designed to be conciliatory, however by the time the General had confirmed his intention to break from normal practice and issue a receipt for everything that they took, against which she could personally claim directly via him at some future date, Catherine had stopped listening.

She had already leapt up from the bed and was out through the door before Sherman could do anything to stop her. With a huge sigh the general turned and followed her out, and within a matter of a short few seconds he could hear the commotion.

“Let her go private,” he issued the order with a quiet calmness designed to diffuse the situation.

Private Dolan held Catherine in a tight grip from behind, his hands brushing the underside of her ample breasts.

“But General she is a wild one for sure.”

“Let her go … please.” Sherman was still attempting to appease his Goddaughter, yet as soon as she felt her confinement released, Catherine ran to the cabinet at the side of the hallway and in short order she had a musket pointed at the soldiers, her Godfather included.

“Is that loaded Catherine?” The General asked, still using calm tones.

“Always. I never know when a malicious General and his evil army will come by now, do I?”

Her words cut Sherman to the quick. She was including him in her casting of the type.

“Please Catherine, put it down. Your father …”

“Don’t you dare bring my father into this Uncle Billy. He would be disgusted at what you are proposing to do …”

Speaking as she was had clearly distracted the girl’s emotional focus and in a blurred moment Lieutenant Sampson had the musket taken from her grip, and Catherine had been pushed against the wooden panelling with her arm twisted up her back.

“Get off me you brute! Owwwww … ouch! Stop!”

“There is no need for excessive force Lieutenant,” but even as Sherman spoke these words, he could see that his Goddaughter was not to be reasoned with.

“Get out!” Sampson’s attention had been diverted to the house slave who had wandered into the scene.

“Please Mary, just leave us. I’ll be fine.” Catherine added a more kindly tone to the words just spoken.

“Yessum, if Mistress Catherine is sure, but …”

“Leave us, please Mary,” The General’s words carried sufficient by way of gravitas and so Mary turned to leave. But the momentary distraction had given Catherine the respite to drag her lithe body free of the officer’s grip and she once again made a grab for the Musket.

“Catherine, stop this at once!” The General’s patience was wearing thin with his Goddaughter. “My men and I have a job to do, and we will do it with all consideration towards your well-being, but do it we must. Lieutenant take Miss McCown back to her bedchamber, deposit her inside and have your guard re-established at her door.”

Catherine’s face was a picture of anger and confusion.

Sampson smiled and nodded his agreement. “To confine her is the right decision General, but I must declare that there is mighty fine, but also mighty considerable, foraging work to be done hereabouts. And with us only being eight men, including myself and Sergeant Oak, having two of them occupied by standing guard outside a young girl’s room, is … shall we say, not necessarily best use of their deployment.”

Sherman shook his head and sighed. With a heavy heart and great reluctance, he addressed his junior officer.

“It pains me greatly to believe you are correct Lieutenant. Take her upstairs to her chambers and secure her to the bed. Tie her wrists, but not over tightly, and then leave her. Do not molest her in any way, do you hear me?”

“Yes Sir. Loud and clear General. Private Dolan, come with me.”

“No … no, Uncle Billy you cannot do this to me, I won’t let you. Please …”

Sherman turned away. He couldn’t bear to watch his Goddaughter being treated like this … but he had an army to feed and discipline to maintain.

As Sampson ordered her upstairs, he could not ignore the feelings that were now being discharged from inside his stomach. ‘Tie her to the bed’ was the order he had been given … The Lieutenant would make sure that it was the most literal execution of a directive that he had ever undertaken!

Chapter 6 – Catherine’s Bedchamber, Just After Midday, May 11th 1864

Catherine tried to steady her breathing. She could still not accept what was happening in her own home, especially not with Uncle Billy here. How could he have this done to her. She had known him all of her life. He had watched her grow into the young woman she was today. She was so distraught that in her delicate mind he might as well have done this to her himself.

The room was warm. Despite the Spring rains the temperature was hot, and her bound body glistened with perspiration. She could not get free, he was watching, this damnable fiend called Sampson. Although he had his back to her, looking out of the window towards the fields, he was still here inside her room, and she felt his presence keenly.

The first thing she tested was the gag, she rolled her head and pushed against it with her tongue, but no matter what she did she couldn't work the fabric of the thin cotton undergarment out of her mouth. The General had not ordered her to be gagged. This was an unacceptable liberty and one that this animal and his men would pay for in due course, she would see to that. Finally, she stopped trying, and looked at her wrists, flicking towards one direction and then the other in an attempt to move them. She tugged in any and every which way, but she was tightly held with this rough rope to the bed posts. Catherine knew that the General’s order to tie her ‘not too tightly’ had been blatantly ignored, but how would he know because she hadn’t seen him since the encounter in the hallway.

And yes, despite her protests, and Uncle Billy’s clear instructions, they had tied her ankles in a similar fashion to her wrists. Not only was she secured, she was also open, her thighs parted underneath the frills of her dress and the loose cotton drawers that protected her womanhood.

She had never felt so defenceless.

Sampson turned inwards and watched her struggling, noting how her calf and thigh muscles stretched under the faded peach fabric that now laid flat against her prostrate body. He admired her breasts, not large, but firm enough to be heaving against the tight low hem line spread across her chest. It spanned all the way to the smooth flesh of her shoulders, and exposed the provocative foundations of a delectable cleavage.

Her dark hair was loose and lay unfettered and feathered out around her pillow. The sight of her made the officer’s groin ache. Before this day was through, he would have her one way or another.

Squirming uneasily under his gaze, Catherine began moving again, but she was no longer flexing her hands or tugging at her feet, just twisting her body slowly back and forth. She couldn’t help but look at him, noting how his eyes roamed over her, all of her … undressing her. Her fear was mounting and the Lieutenant was enjoying the effect the situation was most clearly having upon her respiratory system … the bound girl was breathing hard through the gag and clenching her teeth, unwittingly accentuating the rise and fall of her breasts.

“You seem to have gotten yourself into a bit of a pickle Miss McCown,” Sampson smirked at the bound girl.

She glared at him, unable, of course, to respond.

“You should have simply let us take what we wanted and we would have left you alone … well, maybe we would.”

He laughed as she attempted to react.

"Uuu … onster uuu! Arghhhh, ake uuu ay, etch!"

“Oh, I am sorry my dear girl, but I cannot tell a word you are saying.” Sampson took a seat upon the edge of the bed, next to where she lay.

As he talked, he reached out and began tracing lines over her stomach, she whimpered at his touch and looked directly into his eyes, silently imploring him to stop. But all she succeeded in achieving was a movement of his hand higher as it brushed over her breast, first one and then the other.

Catherine closed her eyes and turned her head to the side so that she did not have to face him. She hated him with a passion, but she hated William T Sherman even more for allowing this to happen.

Sampson moved his touch lower towards her feet and the hemline edge of her dress. As he began to bunch the material higher up her calf she bucked wildly, shaking and crying out her muffled protests. But the poor girl couldn’t stop the Lieutenant from reaching the place where her silk stocking bordered the frilly bottom of her bloomers.

Sampson laughed at her obvious distress before removing his hand.

“I need to go and see ‘Uncle Billy’ …” Sampson’s tone was mocking, “… before he departs, and so I must leave you now Miss McCown. But rest assured I shall return.”

Chapter 7 – Under Shelter outside White Orchard Mansion, Early Afternoon, May 11th 1864

“Lieutenant firstly may I thank you for the way in which you have handled the situation here. The courtesy you and your men have shown to a vulnerable young woman is admirable and means a lot to me personally. I will not forget it.”

Sampson preened. He was receiving a commendation from the Commanding Officer of the whole army which in itself made today a very virtuous day. But moreover, he had the beautiful, vulnerable young woman being referred to, tied to the bed in her chamber with cotton drawers gagging her pretty mouth …

Right now, his life felt good … the Lieutenant just needed the General to take his leave and allow him to administer proceedings as he saw fit.

“Thank you General, and might I add that your words are not misplaced, I will ensure that your Goddaughter is taken care of to the best of our ability when you are gone and while we go about our business.” Sherman failed to pick up the innuendo that fuelled The Lieutenant’s words.

“Then I shall leave her in your capable hands Mister Sampson. Make sure you provide a full report on today’s proceedings when you return.”

“Yes Sir!” The junior officer offered a stiff backed, solid handed salute which was returned by Sherman in a manner that could only be described as more casual.

The General turned and ran across the open ground to his carriage, doing his best to avoid the incessant rainfall. He was about to step into the carriage when a shout came from the main house.

“Lieutenant, Sir please come quickly.”

The vignette surrounding the carriage looked as one to where the shouting was coming from.

“Please Private, keep your voice down and a modicum of decency about your exclamation,” Sampson responded.

Sherman placed his hand upon the arm of his aide and began to retrace his steps back to the house.

“What has caused so much Consternation?” The Lieutenant approached his soldier.

“Sir, we have found this.”

Sherman strained his eyes to see what was causing the fuss, but he didn’t have to wait long because, once they were congregated in the entranceway, the Lieutenant brought the item in question over to him.

“What is this?” The General asked with a furrowed brow.

Sampson shook his head, “Damned if I know the detail Sir, but it is a well-worn little notebook and that’s for sure.”

Sherman took the booklet and, removing the glove from his right hand, began to open the pages inside the faded blue hardback cover.

“It is a series of dates Lieutenant, and I see the initial WQ alongside many of the entries. We need to know what this represents.”

The General had adopted an earnest demeanour as he moved back inside White Orchard, followed quickly by Sampson and Sergeant Oak.

“Step aside,” Sherman’s tone was brusque as he ascended the wooden staircase and walked quickly along the landing towards the chambers of his Goddaughter.

The doors to her room were opened and he was presented with the sight of Catherine bound at wrist and ankle, and gagged … accompanying the General, Sampson noticed, with discomfort, how the girl’s dress was still bunched a little higher than modesty would have dictated …

But the Sherman was too preoccupied with the little book to concern himself with how his previous orders to confine the girl had been executed.

“Remove the gag immediately.” He ordered.

Catherine coughed and spluttered as her mouth was freed, and once she had stretched her jaws back into life, she gushed forth with her apparent gratitude.

“Uncle Billy, I knew that you would come, now please have your men remove the ties at my ankles, and let me free …”

Ignoring her protestations Sherman threw the note book onto the creased bedcover at her side.

“What is this Catherine?”

Momentarily the girl’s eyes flickered as her gaze followed her Godfather’s and they both looked at the booklet.

She shook her head slowly, “Why Uncle Billy, I can assure you that I have never seen this book before in my life.”

Chapter 8 – The Peach Grove at White Orchard Plantation, Early Afternoon, May 11th 1864

Private’s Jeremiah Blake, Jed to his friends, and Sam Hill were thoroughly pissed off at being out in the rain, with little protection other than their rain poncho’s.

As they picked pears from the trees before dropping them into a large basket, water dripped from every possible, exposed extremity. They were soaked to the skin.

“She is a beauty though, right Jed?”

“What? Who?”

“The girl, the one who lives here all on her lonesome.”

“Well not quite on her lonesome, not with the bunch of darkies here too.”

“Yeah well, you know what I mean.”

“What do you mean Sam?”

There was a pause while the Private searched for the right words.

“What I mean Jed, is that I would truly like to sample her pears, and then pluck at her peach before taking her cherry for myself …”

Both men stared at each other and then burst out laughing.

“Damnation Sam, you’re quite the poet …”

The talking and joviality then silenced itself again, only now they were both staring at the same thing. A small brown leather bag, fastened with a tight drawstring. It was sitting in a shallow hole underneath the tree before them, unearthed from its hiding place by the might of the rain.

“Open it.”

Jed looked at Sam, both men seemingly unsure of what to do.

“Look inside Jed. We have the General here. If it’s important we can report it to him directly. Just think of that!”

With an enthusiastic nod Private Blake picked up the mud splattered bag and pulled the string free.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he exclaimed looking at his friend

******

“What is it, Private Hill?” Lieutenant Sampson had been dragged from the girl’s bedchamber just at the point where her confinement was becoming interesting. She was clearly squirming under the scrutiny being afforded her by her Godfather … it was a scene he did not wish to leave.

“We found this, out by the pear orchard, Sir.” Sampson was handed the small bag.

“Look inside … please Sir.”

Slowly the Lieutenant tugged the drawstring open and peered into the bag.

“What the …” He tipped the gold coins into the palm of his hand, and along with them came several silver buttons all bearing the Cartridge Box insignia with the words “40 Rounds” inscribed inside it.

“Top buttons from XV Corp uniforms, and damned Gold Coins. Come with me.”

Sampson turned and, followed by the two Privates, re-entered Miss McCown’s bed chamber.

******

Freed from her confinement, Catherine rubbed her wrists. The rope binding her was from the men’s packs and was more like rough hemp. It had already chafed her delicate skin. She whimpered softly as the blood flowed back into her hands. A quick glance downwards showed that the bindings around her ankles had torn the silk of the stockings …

“My treatment has been appalling Uncle Billy, I shall expect …”

“You are in no position to ‘expect’ anything Catherine. We need answers or you could be in serious trouble,” Sherman replied.

It was clear from the glint in the eyes of every last one of the soldiers present that they were desperately hoping for the ‘serious trouble’ option.

Catherine’s words of dissention had been cut short. Was she trying to be bluff to find a way out of this predicament, or was she telling the truth and she really had never seen the small bag or the notebook before?

The General took his Lieutenant to one side. He knew in his heart that if this was anyone else, he would already have handed them over for formal interrogation … but this was Catherine McCown, daughter of Renee and John McCown … his own Goddaughter, damn it!

“What do you think Mister Sampson?”

The junior officer looked his commanding General in the eye and nodded with a ponderous, considered movement of his head.

“She knows more than she is saying Sir, far more. The dates in that notebook, found inside the house, mean something and she knows what. And as for the bag … well Sir, those buttons were from the jackets of our own men, your men Sir. Maybe even the ones that were hanged just the other day. And then there’s the coins … Sir.”

Sherman recoiled a little. His normal sound and ruthless judgement clouded by the parties involved. The Lieutenant was right, however they got there those buttons belonged to his beloved XV Corp of the Army of the Tennessee.

“We need answers Lieutenant Sampson …”

“We do indeed Sir.”

Chapter 9 – The Bedchamber of Catherine McCown, Around 2pm May 11th 1864

“You must believe me Uncle Billy, I really know nothing about any of this. I just do my best to keep the house in order, and …”

Sherman heaved his chest with a loud sigh. He had a battle to fight, an imminent and important one … the first one of his newly commissioned campaign. This was the very last thing he needed.

“I want to believe you Catherine, I do, but … the notebook was found inside your house. How on earth can it have got there, secreted behind the coals of the main fireplace, if you knew nothing about it?”

The girl looked away, and blinked. Was that a tear? Was she genuinely upset or was she playing him? The General had demanded a short time alone with Catherine in the hope that he could uncover at least some of the facts and save her from an unwelcome fate.

“Catherine?” He said again, “Tell me what you know. It’s not too late, not at all, just say what the notebook is for and tell me anything you might know about the bag and its contents. For the very love of God my dear girl, save yourself any further distress!”

Sherman was genuinely troubled. He already suspected that the dates in the notebook were linked with William Quantrill, the notorious thorn in the side of the Union Army. A guerrilla leader, who showed any man in blue no mercy whatsoever. What else could the initials WQ mean? Had it been Quantrill who murdered the Federal Bummers recently? Had Catherine been somehow linked to it?

He felt sick. This was going quickly from bad to worse. If he was suspecting the poor girl, then he knew full well what the Lieutenant and his men would be thinking.

“If you are in some way subverting my Army Catherine, I am duty bound to …”

The girl looked up with a new found defiance in her expression. “To do what General? To have me shot?”

Sherman was dumbfounded. Was she admitting to being a confederate Guerrilla?

Her shoulders relaxed and she smiled kindly at the man she had known for all of her life. “Uncle Billy, I am a Georgia girl. My father, your best friend, was a Colonel in the Confederate Army. You know where my sympathies lie, it is more than obvious, I think. But you have to believe me when I say that I have no active part in this war nor do I want one. It had already taken too many lives … all I want is peace, Uncle Billy, and my life to resume its familiarity.”

He took her once more into his arms and let her sob her tears. But in truth he had no idea whether they were real or simply a further manifestation of deceit. Her imploring was steadfast and earnest, but it still left the same unanswered questions.

The General gently eased her away from him and gave her his most meaningful paternal look. “Catherine, I want to believe you, but I fear that my judgement is clouded. You leave me no choice but to hand you over to the Lieutenant for further questioning.”

Chapter 10 – The Drawing Room at White Orchard Plantation, Around 3pm, May 11th 1864

How long she sat there, trying to remain stoic but slowly crumbling inside, Catherine couldn't say for certain. When she heard footfall outside the door, she turned her head in the direction of the sound, hoping for anything to break the darkness surrounding her.

She had been taken into the drawing room and pushed down, forcefully, onto one of the bamboo and wood viewing chairs. Ordinarily she would occasionally use this very seat to look out onto the plantation, and observe the wildlife, able to forget for a moment or two that this damnable war even existed.

The sky was already cloudy and ominous outside, but once every single shutter had been drawn shut, the gloom had been added to rendering this room in her own house, dark and foreboding.

And now she sat, under house arrest with armed guards posted inside and outside the door, waiting for the Lieutenant.

She never for one moment believed Uncle Billy would abandon her like this. How could he? And now, where was he? Still in the house somewhere, or had he already left to go back to his Godforsaken army?

Catherine saw the orange light of a lantern through the cracks in the wooden frame as the doors opened. Then he was there, his threatening shape unmistakable. Previously Lieutenant Sampson had seemed no more than an annoying irritant, about to be put in his place by her Godfather, his commanding General … but now he seemed like something entirely different!

Sampson stepped forward, hanging the lantern from a timber beam above his head. Catherine immediately stood, feeling that to do so offered her a more comforting and stouter position. He gestured for her to retake her seat before placing himself in the one facing her.

Catherine contemplated resisting the order, or at the very least ignoring it, but quickly came to the conclusion that she would gain nothing from rebellion. She moved to sit, swaying a little as her head swam with emotional confusion, but before she could complete the action Sampson stood up, crowding her.

The girl pulled away instinctively until the backs of her legs were against the chair. He pursued her over the short distance with slow, languid movements infuriating her as her heart pounded in her chest. Bile rose in her throat as she struggled for breath.

“Ask me your questions Sir, and let me repeat the innocence contained within my answers.”

Lieutenant Sampson smiled languidly. “Oh Miss McCown, I have no intention of asking you anything … not yet.”

This answer confused her, scared her in fact, for if he was not going to question her, what was the purpose of her being trapped in this room with this heinous fiend and his ruffians.

His hands moved to the shoulders of her dress and with a deft movement he pulled the material down onto the tops of her arms. In doing so he exposed very little more of her exquisite form, but the symbolic relevance was not lost upon her. He could do what wanted …

Catherine looked the monster before her in the eye and smiled. The fury that her apparent indifference generated was immediately present in his gaze and once more his fingers moved but this time to grip the front of her dress. Without letting her expression slip for one second, Catherine grasped his wrist, her hands unable to encircle them.

His voice was low in the dark, and the lantern at his back meant she could barely see his face as he spoke. "Your clothes are to be removed Miss McCown. You can either make it easy on yourself or not. But I will have you naked for this, girl, to encourage your complicity, and so before you are questioned further, strip … or we will help you.”

Nausea almost overwhelmed her. Were they about to rape her? She had heard of such an abhorrent deed being used as an act of war, but it couldn’t happen to her … could it? She had not been with a man before, ever. This was not the way … Uncle Billy would never allow it. Yet in the recesses of her mind she knew that if her Godfather really cared then he would be here now putting a stop to this appalling scene.

“You cannot possibly Sir, you will not …” Her words were cut short by the crack of a resounding slap, as the hapless girl’s head snapped sideways.

Reaching around her back she felt him fumble for the buttons of her dress. Catherine sank her nails into his skin as he continued to undress her, but it did not hinder his progress. Not one bit.

He grinned at her, having located the fasteners that he was searching for, and she trembled as he pulled the dress from her body letting it fall in a heap around her ankles, revealing her lighter undergarments. The Lieutenant moved to undo the laces of her stays, the boned corset she wore underneath her dress, and it served to snap her out of the impassive trance she'd slipped into.

Catherine stepped to the side, holding her hands out to stop him before slowly reaching to do it herself. If this was going to happen, she would be the protagonist of her own nudity, without his filthy hands pawing at her.

But the resonance in her logic failed her when she thought of how, since she was an infant, she had never been unclothed for anyone save her beloved house-maid, Mary. It was many years since even her poor mama had seen her without clothes. And now, as the doors opened again and in walked the two soldiers who had been guarding her confinement from in the hallway, Catherine realised that these five Federal monsters were about to see her strip naked.

Her shaky hands fumbled with the knot as she unlaced the stays and dropped the stiff corset to the floor. She found with dismay that she could not remove the shift below with nothing to exchange it for, and a quick glance at her tormentor showed that no replacement would be provided. She stiffened and looked back at him, silently declaring herself done.

With a nod he gestured to the seat again. Catherine slipped past him, turning as she went so that she could keep him in front of her at all times, her eyes locked on his face.

Catherine sat, her hands clasped upon her lap and her eyes downcast looking at the rug on the floor beneath her feet.

“Bring me a water bucket,” Sampson ordered, “… and a cloth.”

He settled into his chair once again and, as soon as his instructions had been adhered to, the Lieutenant dipped the cloth into the bucket, sloshing a little of the water out over the rim. He took her arm, making her jump at the sudden contact and began to slowly wipe away the perspiration that covered her skin.

“What are you …?” Catherine was taken aback by his action.

“Shhhh, Miss McCown, I am not a savage. You have endured a terrible trauma and I wish to comfort you a little by cleansing your skin.”

His hands were surprisingly gentle as he went about his self-appointed task and Catherine was conflicted by it. With all that had happened today, all that was still happening, she felt dangerously close to collapse. Her nerves were frayed, and every wipe of the damp cloth sent a jolt of fear racing through her. Her jaw still ached from the gag, but once she had loosened the muscles in her face Catherine was driven to speak.

"Are you going to kill me, or …?" The fear of hearing the answer was vastly outweighed by the uncertainty that ate at her.

He didn't respond immediately, instead choosing to continue his thorough cleansing of her arms and hands. If the Lieutenant was surprised by her words, he did not show it, which troubled her greatly.

Grime had found its way into the grooves of her nails, maybe from the amount of furniture gripping she had performed this day, and he began to work on them with the cloth. She couldn't bring herself to speak again, unsure if it would incur his anger. Instead Catherine watched his face, looking for any crack in the smooth apathy of his features. Her hands began to tremble as she came to the only conclusion that made sense to her: he was going to interrogate, maybe even rape and then execute her.

He acknowledged the girl’s new found trembling with a firmer grip on her fingers, and nothing more … no words, comforting or otherwise.

When the Lieutenant was satisfied that he had done the best he could on her left arm he dipped the rag back in the bucket and reached for her right. She didn't protest or try to pull away despite the dread rapidly building inside her chest. How did soldiers execute people? It must be worse than what the justices did in peace time, though she couldn't imagine how.

He finished with her hand and dropped the cloth into the bucket.

"We shall see," came his very delayed response. The way he looked at her made Catherine think he understood the ambiguity of her question, and that he too was aware that she would most likely live out her usefulness in a short time.

He stood and pulled her to standing with him. Her body shook as she stared straight ahead into his chest, his presence overwhelming her already battered defences. Catherine felt the metaphorical noose tighten at her neck and she was breathless.

When his fingers brushed the top of her shift she pulled away, fear wracking her body once again. The implied promise of her own impending death suddenly became secondary to the imminent threat to her person.

"You don't have to do this," she looked at him, hoping to stave off what she knew to be inescapable.

"That is true," he said as he advanced on her, crowding her again as she retreated back to the chair. When she had backed up as far as she could go, he came up against her, reaching out and catching her wrists to trap them behind her body. His swift movement brought the Lieutenant’s face to within inches of her own.

Catherine gasped.

Shifting his hold on her into a single grip from his large hand, the other began gathering the cloth of her shift.

"But I want to," he said, voice low and cruel to her ears.

She tried to twist away from him, crying out as he gripped tightly making her body ache. His other hand wrenched the thin fabric over her head and drew the garment down her back along her trapped arms. She resisted as much as she was able but felt restrained by the pain he was inflicting through his grip on her confined wrists.

He continued, unperturbed by her struggles. Catherine was never more aware of how pitiful her physical power was than when she struggled wildly and yet barely moved him. The Lieutenant managed to tug the shift from her arms and capture them again before she'd landed more than a glancing blow on his chest.

Then the enormity of the situation hit her.

Topless now, wearing nothing but cotton drawers that dropped only to her thighs and silken stockings underneath, she felt the smirking gazes of each man as her body was openly ogled.

Catherine stilled, tensed and shaking, her breasts uncovered and her arms still secured in a tight hold. She did not want him to touch her, but while one hand continued with the restraint of her arms, the other was free to roam wherever it wished.

The poor girl was beside herself with distraction. Never before had she been touched like this, never before had she been touched at all. However, she had the presence of mind to realise that this could become much worse if, in her panic, she continued not thinking with any kind of clarity. Sampson took her change of mental pace into his stride and ran his fingers through her hair as she stood stock still before him.

His free hand drifted down onto her shoulder and across her breast. In her frantic attempt to remain stoic, Catherine tried desperately to hold back the rising panic that was fuelling her nausea. Only a day or two ago she had been sewing in the drawing room while life went on around her, and now here she was, trapped by these monsters while they systematically stripped and humiliated her. She turned her face away from him as his fingers circled her nipple lazily; the aureole pebbled and stiffened in the low light. She clenched her jaw tightly shut as he brushed the sensitive bud, tweaking it ever so gently and making her insides squirm.

His touch was so strange, so precise and gentle. Then his fingers travelled downwards, making their way to the apex of her thighs. She clenched her legs together to impede his progress. It didn't seem to bother him. Catherine gritted her teeth against the sounds of distress she could feel teasing her throat. What was this lazy caress? Then he was back at her breasts. Why was he toying with her?

She was increasingly aware of his tight grip at her back and she was scared of that touch more than the wicked hand that cupped her breast, squeezing it as his thumb flicked at the teat. His lips descended onto her neck and she gasped in surprise before snapping her mouth closed. She would not react to this man. The hand at her wrists loosened and she used the opportunity to slip from his grip and scramble back onto the chair. She heard laughter all around her. She had become their plaything …

Catherine couldn't see his face in the shadows as the only lighted lamp in the room was behind him again, but she could feel his malintent, the easy grace of his movements attesting to the confident predator that he was. She had to keep him in front of her. This situation was out of her control, but perhaps she could manage to keep at least that aspect in hand.

“Hold her.”

Now Catherine screamed as she felt herself lifted by a trooper either side of her, one gripping each arm. Her eyes widened when she saw the raised arm before her and her head spun as the open palm slapped down hard onto her face when she was slapped again.

She yelled the first time, but when the reciprocal backhand smacked into her from the alternate side she grunted. It was with a daze that she felt her drawers loosened and pulled down. A draft of cold air slipped between her exposed thighs as she felt the silk torn from her legs, and with slippers removed Catherine was held naked before this monstrous man.

It was in this haze-fuelled, humiliating condition that she heard the drawing room door open and the soldier’s voice say, “Everything is ready just like you asked Lieutenant.”

To Be Continued …

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