Tracker Writes: While the story of Patrick and Juliette is important to them, they are just a sideshow to the people living on the ranch. The trouble of two little people from San Francisco don’t amount to a hill of beans in the Lazy F World.
Kajire Canjellne
From Smith’s Secret Diary
At the gate of the round-up corrals, I encountered the assistant foreman of my crew, Randy Schlesinger. He was watching a green Subaru drive away. He directed me to return to the Loose Woman Lost and Found and remain on guard there until I was relieved, and report if anything need attention. Alex, one of the stage attendants, walked by with me. He seems a nice kid.
When I reached the stage, a coffle of the survivalist women was being led away by two other members of my crew: Aaron, a young man who in his youth was expelled as a boy from a tribe of wyld wymen and with him Tom Harris. Tom kept glancing at Lorna, a member of the reservation just north of us. She shrank from his glance.
I sat on the hay bales in front of the stage. A man, about thirty years old, with a bandaged arm was sitting on an adjacent bale. He asked me who I was. He was gruff, not unfriendly, but certainly not friendly.
“I’m Smith, been working here about four months now.”
The stranger spat some tobacco juice.
“My dad says I’ve got to break that habit. I’m James Hawkins. Born and Bred on the Lazy F. Fourth generation, serving the Fricks and the Stone.”
By the Stone, I knew he meant the large black stone, carved with runes or characters in no language known to me which formed the Cornerstone of the main ranch house. The house was on an outcrop of granite, so another expression this remote community uses is ‘the Stone on the Rock’.
“You’re hurt, did you run into a rogue steer.”
“Wounded in a fight with those survivalists. We are having more trouble with those people. Most of them were always wannabes, and posers, but there was always a tougher hard core. Now there are more of the hard core showing up. Ex-military and contractors. I lost two of my people today. They lost more, and we captured some, but they worry me. It’s going to get tough around here. Are you the type that sticks or will you run?”
“I like it here, I will stick.”
James Hawkins grunted as two of the stage attendants with little to do now brought us plates of hot food along with mugs of cold beer. The Lazy F brewed its own excellent beer. The food was to a high standard as well - the Grannies made sure of that. They maintained a high standard in anything they supervised.
Aaron and Tom climbed back on the stage and led away the wyld wymen and the two tourists. I wondered if they might be carried off in a silver ship like the one I had seen a couple of nights ago, but knew better than to speculate out loud. Tom Harris did not look at all at his sister. He stared a lot at Lorna.
There was only Kathy, now Shamed Kathy, formerly Kathy Harris hanging alongside Lorna now.
I noted, “that taller girl, the one in the middle, she is gone now? She was the best looker of the bunch today, I thought.”
“Her owner came and got her. He was a tall man too. Looked tough, well tough for a lawyer. Shut down all the legal quibbles some of the new slaves had. Collected his slaves and her bundle. He forgot about the bundle, but young Alex collected it from the Assessment Hut and ran after them.”
“She had good tits.”
“Yup, good tits, nice form, quite a looker. But even in four months you must have seen a few lookers.”
I answered, “Seen them come, and seen them go. That dancer, Tiffani, from Pittsburgh that came in a few days ago, she is superb. And the other slave, Fliss, she looks fine too.”
James Hawkins laughed, “If you look closely, Fliss is more a looker than Tiffani, but Tiffani knows how to do more, that attracts the eye.”
“Fliss seems a funny name.”
“There is a story behind that.” He took a long pull at his beer. “Chelsea Frick is Mr Willard Frick’s daughter. He is the head of the Frick Family.”
I nodded, I knew all this from my briefing. Willard Frick was a big steel man in Pittsburgh.
“Mr Willard has gone to London on business. He does that often, I hear. Taking the opportunity while her father is out of town, Miss Chelsea has invited some of her friends from finishing school to a reunion party at the Frick mansion. Because of that, Miss Chelsea had to get Fliss out of town. Because you see, Fliss the kajira was named for one of Miss Chelsea’s friends, Felicity, whose school nickname was Fliss. So you see, Chelsea had to get Fliss the Kajira out of town before she encountered Fliss the school friend, who would not have been amused at all.”
He laughed. It was rather funny, sort of like naming the dog after your mother in law, and then finding that the old dragon was coming to visit.
“How did you learn all this?”
“Fliss, the kajira, told me. She wasn’t supposed to know, but kajirae are insanely curious, and she found out. She told me last night in the furs. She is a talker in the furs, is Fliss.”
James Hawkins and I ate some pie.
I turned at the sound of horses. Two men were riding down the avenue between the corrals towards the Lost and Found stage. James Hawkins stood up.
“From the reservation?”
“Yes. Greetings from the Elders to the Lazy F. I come to pick up my sister Lorna who strayed onto your ranch in search of some of our bison. My name is Ira, this is my friend, Jack.”
“Good evening, Ira, I am James Hawkins, assistant Foreman. We met at the round-up dance two years ago.”
“I remember.” They shook hands. James Hawkins introduced me.
“This is Smith, he rides for the Lazy F, but is not sworn to the Stone. Let’s get your sister down and dressed. She has had a long day. But you know our rules for women found on the range.”
Ira nodded and didn’t say anything. Jack and I started for the assessment shed to get Lorna’s things that the Grannies had bundled up in case she was claimed.
“Kajira Canjellne.”
Jack and I came running from the Assessment Hut. It was Tom Harris, standing on the stage beside Lorna. He was standing beside her and her brother Ira.
“Kajira Canjellne”
Ira stopped in his tracks, while Jim Hawkins sprinted for the stage. He stood between the two men.
“Alex, run for one of the Mr Fricks! Now you two, what is this about?”
Tom Harris looked mulish and angry and worked up.
“I won’t let him take her. She was found on our range. I claim her and will fight for her. Kajira Canjellne.”
James Hawkins was trying to smooth things over.
“Tom, I have sent for Mr Frick, now go over there to that side of the stage and stand there. Ira, go to the other side and wait for Mr Frick.”
It was like sending two fighters to their corners. I ran onto the stage to support Hawkins.
“Keep an eye on Ira, so he doesn’t do something rash. Both these men are armed. We don’t need trouble with our only friendly neighbour. Tom is a fool.”
I kept an eye on Ira. He seemed to have more idea about what was going on than I did. He did not look happy at all.
As Hawkins and I stood either side of Lorna, I quickly asked him, “what is kajira canjellne?”
“It is a slave girl challenge. He wants to fight Ira over who owns Lorna.”
Lorna started to speak, then stayed silent.
We waited for Mr Frick.
It took fifteen minutes for both Mr Fricks to arrive, Count Franz Rupert, the Prime Minister of Lutha and his aide, Captain something or other, came with them. They were all dressed for dinner. They looked as happy as men interrupted at a feast with bad news might be expected to look. Wilson, the ranch boss went over to Tom Harris and was talking quietly to him. Tom was shaking his head and refusing to listen. My own direct boss, assistant foreman Randy Schlesinger had arrived and started talking in low tones with Hawkins.
Wilson Frick left Tom and returned to talk with Hawkins and Schlesinger. Woodrow Frick joined them. A crowd had gathered at the foot of the stage.
Wilson Frick moved to the centre of the stage and began speaking in a voice that carried. It was a voice of command.
“A slave girl challenge has been issued. It is irregular, as the girl has not been adjusted a slave, yet it must be considered However, one thing must be understood. There will be no question of pistols or guns of any kind. Whatever happens will happen with blades, as is traditional.”
“Ira, do you understand what all this means, what is going on?”
“I do, I know your traditions. This is irregular, but for the honour of my people, I know I must fight. However, due to the irregularity, Tom Harris must stake something too. What does he put up?”
Tom was still enraged. He wanted Lorna beyond all reason. There are so many women in the world, what does one particular woman matter, especially on a ranch that had so much available pussy in the number of slaves and captives? As Hawkins said, Tom was a fool.
“He’s just trying to weasel out of fighting, don’t let him and that slut sister of his escape me!”
Wilson Frick was calm and steely.
“Name your stake, or forfeit your challenge.”
“Her, her, I wager her in trial by combat. I wager my own sister, Shamed Kathy. Let her have some value to the family.”
“Very well, who is your second?”
Aaron stepped forward, “I will second Tom.”
Wilson Frick turned to Ira.
“Jack will be my second.” He pulled what looked like a tactical fighting knife from his belt.
Randy Schlesinger had collected Tom’s pistol from him. Tom had only his small belt knife.
Young Woodrow Frick produced a fighting knife of his own from the sleeve of his dinner jacket. A young man who has a knife sheath build into his jacket sleeve so slickly it can’t be detected is a man always ready for trouble.
He handed the knife to Tom
Wilson Frick made the arrangements. The girls would be moved to the ends of the stage, each tied to one of the tripods supporting the great horizontal spar. The contestants would approach the centre from the tripod of the girl they were defending. The fight would continue until it was clear one or the other of the fighters could not continue, but not necessarily to the death. Woodrow Frick would referee.
I saw our four wheel drive range ambulance arrive and park close to the stage. Randy Schlesinger and James Hawkins and I left the stage. Both of the foremen looked very worried.
The lad, Alex, came up. “The plane is standing by at the airstrip if someone lives to go to hospital.” The boy had lost his habitual grin.
“What training does Tom have?” I asked.
“We all have some fighting training, out here where we have to defend ourselves. Tom’s been away at College though, so he may be rusty. I don’t know about Ira. He’s older, I don’t know what he was doing when he was away from the reservation.”
At a word from Woodrow Frick the two combatants slowly approached each other. Tom looked ready, trained and dangerous; but Ira did as well. I recognized where Ira had trained in close combat and worried for Tom. He was on my crew, and he was in tough.
The circled a bit, there was a flurry of movement and when they separated Tom had drawn first blood from Ira. It didn’t look like a serious wound. They continued to circle and feint, Ira moved suddenly, Tom countered, and Ira revealed his real attack and Tom went down with a bad wound to his stomach. It was just that fast. It usually is in real life, as opposed to fake fights for the screen. Kathy screamed and would not shut up. There were angry murmurs from the crowd of cowboys.
Woodrow was beside Tom, immediately applying first aid and pressure to the wound while the EMTs from the ambulance rushed on stage. While they stabilized Tom, Jack pulled Ira away and towards his end of the stage.
Aaron, Tom’s second, was pulled away from his friend by Randy Schlesinger. I walked to Ira’s corner, partly to make sure that adrenaline would not get him to continue the fight, and partly to make sure he was protected from our own people.
I spoke to the heavily breathing man. “I thought I recognized where you got your close combat training. Marine Corps?”
“Once a Marine, always a Marine. You?”
I said nothing. I didn’t want to reveal much about myself.
Across the stage, Aaron slapped Kathy to shut her up. Her wailing was getting on everyone’s nerves. The ambulance pulled away to make the run to the airstrip to transport Tom to hospital in Billings.
Wilson Frick had gone up to Aaron.
“You did well, standing by Tom. You have done well in the round-up too. I am pleased with you.”
Aaron stood taller at the praise. He was looking daggers across the green marble at Ira and Jack though. I wondered if he would challenge Ira if Ira attempted to claim Kathy as his prize. Wilson Frick spoke again.
“I want you to go to the Harris ranch and tell old Thomas Harris about Tom and Kathy. Tom won’t be able to work for a while, even if he survives. Old Thomas is ill, I want you to be as a son to him, at least for now. You bear heavy news to him, so be gentle and strong. You have done well, and at the rising of the New Moon, you will be sworn to the service of the Cornerstone. Do you understand?”
Aaron straightened his back. He was weary from work and from the emotional upheaval. “The Rock upon the Stone,” he replied. The crowd began to disperse. Jack had retrieved Lorna’s horse and pack pony from the corral where it had been impounded. Ira had collected Kathy who was in a daze at the course of events. I am sure that twenty-four hours earlier, she had never imagined her brother would be heading to hospital and she heading to an unknown future as a war captive. By now I had seen that dazed look on a lot of women who had arrived at the Lazy F and found themselves loaded off to heaven knows where.
Lorna was freed of her bonds and went to put on her clothes. She was stopped by Ira and Jack. Ira told her, “I came to claim you from the Lost and Found, but in the end I had to fight to redeem you. Your foolishness in following the bison by yourself has now put us in danger of discord with our neighbours. Because I won you in combat, you too are a war captive until your fate is settled by our elders. I may sell you to Jack.” Lorna started to protest.
“Silence woman. Be quiet Kajira.” The two men rode off, herding before them the two naked enslaved women and leading Lorna’s two horses.
“They won’t reach the reservation tonight. I expect they both will perform in the furs tonight,” said Randy Schlesinger.
“I hope excitement in the furs tonight is all the excitement we have. Hawkins recommends Fliss very highly.”
Juliette Chen’s Narrative.
The drive back to our campsite was very chilly. I mean that literally. I had been tied naked in the sun and the wind all day, and it had proved to be a very hot day. My hands were tied behind my back and I was sitting on an old piece of carpet, ‘so I wouldn’t soil the upholstery’. A piece of old carpet, as one would do with a pet or other animal. The carpet was scratchy and irritated my bum, my thighs and my sex. The worst though was the cold. It has been hot all day, so Patrick had the air conditioning on in the Subaru. Which was fine for him, he was fully dressed. He had dressed to impress the Lazy F people, so he was almost formal in attire, while I had no attire at all. None. The air conditioning was blasting right on my unclothed body.
“I like the way your nipples are standing at attention, eager to see me?” Patrick grinned that grin of his.
“Patrick! I’m freezing. Please at least untie me and turn down the AC.”
“After the day you put me through, worrying about you, and having to lawyer out of slavery on the ranch, don’t I deserve a little comfort?”
What he had been through? I had been exposed in front of literally hundreds of people, abused and sexually molested, forced to perform sex acts. My legs were still cramped from standing all day, and my wrists bore the marks where the handcuffs, what they called bracelets, had cut into them while I was exposed for hours! I knew though I couldn’t complain, for Patrick would just point out, in his reasonable way, that it was all my own fault for disobeying him, for not coming out of the river before I was swept away. Complaining would do me no good. He might even decide to punish me for it. Complaining hadn’t done those Danish girls any good, as they were legally condemned to a life of slavery, and it wouldn’t do me any good either. At least I wouldn’t be a slave for the rest of my life.
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