Postby daiton68 » Thu Jan 17, 2013 7:38 pm
Part 2
Mary was in a state of shock. She had know idea where the young squaw was taking her, but they had been moving farther and farther into the forest, hence, probably farther from her home. After about a half hour the squaw brought her captive into a outcrop of large boulders. One of them jutted out a few feet over the two girls heads making for a natural shelter against the harsh elements. Mary was cold, wet and miserable. She never should have left the comfort of her home where her mother and two sisters were probably anxiously awaiting her return. Her father had joined the garrison at Fort William Henry leaving the homestead in charge of Mary's mother and her 15 year old cousin, Richard. The indian girl motioned for Mary to sit on the ground next to a small sapling that was attempting to grow up from under the overhang. She lashed the other end of the rawhide around the base of the tree and walked back into the forest. Mary watched her disappear and wondered what the young maiden had in store for her. She had heard of the Huron's kidnapping people and adopting them as members of their tribe to replace family members that had died. Was this the young squaws intent? She tested her bonds, but her hands had been tied tightly. However, they were tied in front of her, and Mary quickly determined that she might be able to unloosen the rope from around the tree, and make her escape. She worked her way over to the sapling and attempted to work the knot free, but the indian girl had tied it very well, still, with a little time she might be able to work it free. A few minutes later she heard a rustling sound in front of her, and to her chagrin she found that the squaw had returned with some small branches which she set down under the overhang. Mary said nothing, and the indian girl did not even seem to notice her. Within a few minutes she had a fire blazing.
Mary attempted to move closer to the fire, and the indian girl noticing her discomfort untied the rawhide from the sapling and motioned her red headed captive to move closer. Mary huddled closer to the fire holding her bound hands in front of it feeling the warmth. Although she was grateful for the fire, the discomfort of the rawhide binding her slender wrists needed to be addressed. She held her bound hands out in front of her toward the the other girl.
"I know you don't speak English...but can you please untie me?"
The maiden's countenance was hard, and she was unmoved by her captives request. Mary sat back against the wall of the overhang. She watched the indian girl add sticks to the flames. What should she have done? She should have resisted her captivity. After all the girl was not armed. Why did she let herself be bound. She had been scared, but she might have been able to run from the girl or even fight her. She sized her captor up. They were about the same size, but she noticed that the indian girl was perhaps a bit more muscular. There was no way that she would have been able to match her strength. Inevitably she would have been bound anyway, maybe even killed.
It was still light, but gloomy, and the rain was now coming down in torrents. Mary noticed the squaw looking at her and she decided to try and speak to her again, only this time in sign language. She showed her bound hands and made an attempt to relate her discomfort. The girl seemed to understand and moved over to where her prisoner sat. Mary smiled at her, in an attempt to show friendship.
"Hands?" the squaw said in perfect English.
Mary was stunned.
"You speak English!"
"English" the girl repeated. Obviously she knew only a few words or phrases. Taking hold of Mary's wrists she loosened the knots and soon Mary was free of her bonds. As Mary rubbed her wrists the indian girl looked her captive over. Her gaze fell on the English girls tall leather boots which were laced up tight. She started to take the liberty of fumbling with the laces when Mary pushed her hands away.
"No...My boots!" Mary said clearly agitated.
The squaw looked perturbed, and pointed to herself
"My!" she said. "Me! French call me Ligoteur!
Mary had to make a decision. She could not let this girl take her boots. She was now free of her bonds. It was still daylight, and if she made an escape attempt she might be able to make it to the river that she had heard rumbling in the distance, and which she believed was the same one that led to her settlement. But could she outrun the the Huron? She decided to give it a try. As the dark haired girl attempted to unlace her left boot she brought it up with a swift kick that sent the indian girl tumbling backwards. Quickly, Mary got to her feet and started running toward the sound of the river. The chase was on. The indian girl, who Mary now understood who's name was Ligoteur had recovered from the booted kick to her face. She was now plenty angry with her former captive who had taken advantage of her kindness. Well, this time things would not be so pleasant for the English girl once she caught up to her.
The rain was now coming down in sheets. Mary stumbled through the brush, and made her way toward the river, the sound of which was getting much closer. Ligoteur, however, was in hot pursuit and correctly guessed the redhead's destination. She skirted around a stand of birch trees and found the trail she was looking for. She was at the river in no time at all, and simply waited for the tired redhead to appear from the brush. When she did, she came out onto the riverbank only 20 yards from where Ligoteur was hiding. Like a cat pouncing on it's prey Ligoteur was on top of Mary before she even knew what hit her. The two girls rolled down the bank with Ligoteur landing on top. Mary lashed out with her hands, but immediately felt the superior strength of her adversary who had her pinned to the ground in no time. For a minute the two girls kept their positions, both of them out of breath. Then with one swift movement Mary was hauled to her feet, Ligoteur keeping a firm grip on her left arm which was soon twisted behind her back. Ligoteur pushed Mary along up the trail and back to the rock outcrop where the fire was still blazing. Mary was defeated and she knew it. Whatever the indian girl wanted to do with her she was going to do and she was helpless to do anything about it. Ligoteur pushed her captive down by the fire. Mary was soak and wet, her red hair plastered to her forehead. She huddled next to the warm fire shivering from the cold. Ligoteur warmed her hands briefly, but she was hardened to the elements. She got up and walked over to a crack in the rock wall where she pulled out a small satchel and brought it back to the fire. Mary watched her captor as she pulled out some chestnuts and handed them to her prisoner, who eagerly devoured them. After Ligoteur had her share she reached back into the satchel and pulled out a long piece of rawhide. Mary shuddered involuntarily. She was going to be tied up again. She held up her wet hands making a pleading motion with her captor, but only recieved an icy stare in reply.
"Pl..please...you....you don't need to bind me. I promise I won't try to escape again."
Ligoteur sat crosslegged next to the fire carefully examining the rawhide that would soon keep the girl with the red hair secure from possible escape. After a few minutes she rose and approached her prisoner. Mary wimpered as she held out her hands in front of her, but Ligoteur had other designs. She motioned for Mary to lay down. Mary shook her head in denial, but Ligoteur became angry and mumbled something in the Huron tongue that was totally incomprehensible to the English girl. However, Mary reluctantly complied and lay face down on the cold earth. Ligoteur removed the Mary's wet cape and placed it next to the fire to dry. Mary felt a tear run down her cheek as her conquerer gathered her small hands and and tied them with the rawhide behind her back. Believing that she was done binding her Mary attempted to sit up, but was rudely pushed back on her stomach.
"My boots" Ligoteur said in a fierce dominant tone. Mary's feet were soon free of her wet boots which soon joined her cape next to the fire. Ligoteur then pulled off the slender girls black stockings which were soak and wet. Mary was now barefoot. Ligoteur went back to the bag and pulled out some more rawhide. With a long piece she bound her captives ankles tightly and then pulled her barefeet into the air. Mary was soon bound like a hog going to market. Ligoteur examined the pink soles of her prisoners feet and was pleased at what she saw. The redhead had small perfectly formed pale feet with slender toes. She had never tied a girl with red fiery hair before. Ligoteur thought back to her last prisoner, a small Mohawk girl perhaps a year or two younger than her who she had wrestled into the ropes only a fortnight earlier. She was pleased with her new trophy. As for Mary, the humiliated girl could only hope that she would be released from her bondage.