Isaac Lundstrom smiled when the woman told him to pull down his trousers and lay down on the bed. Isaac, or Ike as he preferred to be called, thought this was a little odd, but the woman called herself Angelique Beauchene and said she came to Byron, Mississippi from New Orleans when the Union troops occupied the city. The name meant she was French. She also had long, copper-red hair. Both those things made him want to see if what he'd heard was true or not.
Every man he'd ever talked to said that redheaded whores were the best whores, and he'd heard from the Confederate soldiers from Louisiana that French women knew how to do things with a man that sounded almost too good to be true. They told of certain French women in the whorehouses in New Orleans who would take a man's manhood into their mouth and lick and suck on it until he spurted, and then still keep licking and sucking until his manhood was stiff again. Then, they'd spear themselves on the man's rigid organ and ride him until he spurted again.
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Ike had come to Byron to hide from the law. He'd grown up on a twenty-five acre farm in a bend of the Pearl River about three miles from Byron and about four miles from Jackson, so he knew the area well. After the South surrendered to the Union, he didn't want to start farming again. Instead, he migrated to Texas because he'd heard there weren't a lot of Marshalls and Sheriffs in Texas, and he could earn a living by robbing general stores.
He figured no Sheriff in Texas would come so far to arrest a man who'd only robbed several general stores in Texas. He'd planned on that. After he'd robbed the general store in Sulphur Springs, he'd laughed at the people inside and said if they ever got to Dallas, maybe he'd see them and rob them again.
Ike figured when those people talked to the Sheriff of Sulphur Springs, they'd tell him that the robber was headed for Dallas. They'd give his description to the Sheriff who would then draw up a wanted poster and post it on the wall of the jail as well as send a few copies to Dallas and the other towns along the way.
That's what the other six Sheriffs had done and Ike knew that because he'd seen the wanted posters. Ike had managed to elude them by moving around to different locations far enough apart that it wasn't likely word of him had reached that far, but it might have. That farm in Mississippi was looking like a place to go hide for a while.
To that end, Ike did ride toward Dallas for about an hour, but then turned south. He rode south until dark and then camped in a grove of trees. He didn't build a fire because that might attract someone. He ate some of the beef jerky from his saddlebag and then slept until dawn. From there, he'd turned east and over the course of the next month, had ridden across Texas to Louisiana and then to Byron. He was feeling pretty pleased with himself when he rode into town. The wanted posters would not have made it this far from Texas.
Ike didn't remember there being a whorehouse in Byron, but it didn't surprise him that there were women there willing to sell their bodies. Most of the able-bodied men in the South had either enlisted or been conscripted into the Confederate Army during the war. They left behind wives with no way to support themselves. For more than a few of those wives, it was either starve or service the soldiers from whichever side happened to control the area at the time. When the war ended and their husband didn't come back home, they had little choice but to continue in the profession. No man would have seriously considered marrying a former whore.
He'd found the redheaded woman, well, actually she'd found him, in the general store. Ike intended to go back to the farm where he grew up and start farming again. This last robbery had added enough to his purse to let him buy a team, a milk cow, and some seed, but after traveling for a month, he was out of food. He'd gone to the farm first and was pleased to see the house and barn were still standing. While he was there, he visited the graves of his mother and father under the apple tree in the back yard. Both had caught cholera and died while he was fighting for the Confederacy.
Ike rode into Byron then to buy some food and have a look at what had changed in the town. He was in the general store buying a side of bacon when the woman walked up to him and touched him on the arm.
"Sir, it embarrasses me to no end, but I was wondering if you would help a lady in distress?"
Ike turned to see a woman with red hair smiling at him. He also saw the twin mounds of her breasts above the neckline of her dress and knew what she was. Any other woman might have worn a dress like that, but she'd have pinned a lace handkerchief over her breasts so they didn't show. That this woman had bared her breasts could only mean this woman was a whore.
He grinned.
"What sort of distress would that be, Ma'am?"
The woman looked at the floor.
"Well, Sir, my name is Angelique Beauchene and I moved from my home in New Orleans to Byron when the Union Army occupied the city. There were so many stories about what they did to women that I feared for my virtue.
"The money I had with me in the house in New Orleans lasted me up until yesterday, but today, I am but a pauper. I've had nothing to eat all day and I do not have a place to sleep tonight. I was wondering if you might know of some kind soul who would take pity on a poor woman and offer her a meal and shelter for the night."
She looked up and grinned then.
"I assure you that I would be very grateful."
Ike smiled back. Maybe she was what she said or maybe she was a whore. Either way, the thought of how she might be grateful made her hard to resist.
"Tell you what, Ma'am. I have a farm 'bout a hour from here. If'n you can wait a few minutes whilst I buy some vittles, I'll take you home with me."
The woman threw herself at Ike and circled his neck with her arms. He felt her soft breasts against his chest.
"Oh thank you, thank you, Sir. You have saved a poor woman at the very end of her rope."
Ike bought a side of bacon, some potatoes, and a pound of dried beans, then took the woman to his horse.
