David Crockett:Blazing

MONDO CROCKETT
"THE BLAZING DAWN"

By James Wakefield Burke

   When the muster was called at Winchester, David Crockett was the first man who stepped out. A company of mounted riflemen was quickly formed. Most of the men had come prepared to move out immediately. They came riding their own horses, armed with their own rifles, in coonskin or foxskin caps, hunting shirts, deerskin leggins, the moccasins they wore for hunting, and their rolled-up packs of cooking utensils and blankets and extra powder and lead strapped behind their saddles. A rendezvous for the first night was named and the company moved out, while David went back to his cabin on Bean Creek, saying he would catch up with them.
   Polly was not in the house. He saw that she had prepared his pack; it rested, neatly rolled up and tied beside the door.
   "Polly!" he called. "Where are you?"
   "Here, David, down by the creek."
   He went out the back door and a few steps carried him to as lovely and rewarding a sight as any man going off to war could wish for. Polly was standing ankle-deep and naked in the crystal spring, drops of water dripping from her, gleaming in the sunlight like jewels. She raised her head and her red hair, tumbling loosely about her shoulders, gathered in the afternoon light and threw it out as golden sparks. He knew his Polly, knew she had planned it this way. He knew the depth of her passion, and seeing her before him naked in all her womanly glory, a heat like a small cannonball formed in his belly and caused his loins, his whole being, to ache for her. Images of a thousand nights of making loved with her seared across his mind. He went to her, tearing off his clothes, piece by piece.
   He came into the water enfoldering her in his arms. "Where are the children?" he asked.
   "I sent them into the woods to hunt for hickory nuts."
   "You were waiting for me--like this?"
   "Yes, David."
   He drew her gently down in the shallow water on the sandy shore of the creek, and began kissing her lips, her neck, her sweet wet breasts. She lay there, a beautific look on her face, half submerged, the water breaking over her body in sparkling bubbles in the fantastic light; in the water she was a silver siren, her hair streaming with pearls. "Take me, David. Take me good! I love you so much."
   With a groan of mingled passion and despair he bent and kissed her wildly, feeling the throbbing in her thighs as she pressed against him. He remained there, feasting on her body, the very closeness of her. Her hands slipped down his back and felt the tensing and untensing of his hard muscles--up again to touch the long hair at the back of his neck that curled against her fingers. "Please, David, don't keep me waiting."
   She opened her thighs and his knees went between them. She felt his body rest against hers for a moment before it was lifted, poised. Her hand found him and as she guided him inside a gentle moan escaped from deep within her. He stayed like that without moving, embedded in her, his body a part of hers, and then in a moment he began to move, inexorably and steadily.
   She lay half-submerged in the water under him, her eyes closed, a look of heaven in her flushed face. Slowly she began to respond to his inthrust and outreach. She widened her legs, hoisted her thighs, struggled to engulf him deeper, fully, while keeping her movements perfectly to his rhythm. She became a wild, bold, sensual creature giving herself to him, demanding of him gluttonously. Never before when they had made love had she called out to him aloud, sobbing her love and her need as she did now.
   Gradually she felt the cadence of his breathing and his thrusting into her increase; and by habit she matched her tempo to his. It came slowly at first--a warm, spreading exquisite sensation. Then it grew hot and with that warmth came the all-encompassing pain-pleasure. Beginning in her loins, it ascended up into her belly, down her quivering thighs--encompassing her entire body. There were long moments when where she didn't know where she was, or cared; she was floating away into nowhere and nothingness. She heard his voice--from far away. He was saying, "I love you, Polly," and that was enough. Now she could send him away to his war and wait for his return in quiet pain and love.
   "Polly, I'll be home in sixty days," were his last words to her as he left.

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Music: "I Gave My Love (Riddle Song)" from
"Western Adventures & Others:" by Fess Parker, Gene Autry & Buddy Ebsen