Return to Holliday Creek (15)

Think about Poncho Villa. 

                              - By Robert Faulkender ©

Skillman forced his mind back to Villa's raid on Columbus... Corporal Grimes locked onto his machine gun, the rattle of gunfire...

     Ted nearly jumped out of his skin when felt the bed covers part as she slipped in beside his stark naked body. Even in the darkness she was the most beautiful thing he had ever imagined.

     She snuggled up beside him. “I didn’t promise to stay in my room.” 

 

   Giggling, they self-consciously explored each other.  Then suddenly, intensely, without any reservations, they reconciled each other’s emptiness and fulfilled the mutual longings of nine years. Ted Skillman did not know that his body could give and receive such excruciating pleasure. If he hadn’t fully loved Leitha yesterday, he certainly did today.

    

Poncho Villa  circa 1912

Chaos gripped Camp Furlong. As Skillman signed in from leave, the charge of quarters gave him a message to see Captain Daily immediately. Ted was dead tired: the night with Leitha, the trail ride to Tarbuttons, the train ride last night. He needed sleep.

    Two raps on Captain Daily’s door and he entered.  “Sergeant Skillman reporting as ordered.”

    Daily’s mustache went up, “Glad you are back, Skilly. Things are crazy—worse than we guessed.”

   Captain Daily proceeded to bring Skillman up to date. President Wilson had assigned General John  Pershing to command the Mexican Expedition -- 10,000 men strong. B Troop, including First Sergeant Hicks, left three days ago for Chihuahua under the command of Captain George Patten.

     Daily was animated. “I have you slated to secure a resupply convoy down to B Troop, 24 hours from now. Clock’s ticking, sergeant.”

     Skillman was stunned. Of course, he knew this could happen, but… “What about the completion of our enlistment term?”

     Daily nervously shuffled papers on his desk top. “All leaves, passes, and enlistment contracts have been suspended.” Daily looked up, mustache drooping, “That will be all, sergeant.”

     Washed, shaved, and rested, Skillman buckled down to do his job. But, before he left on mission, he wrote Leitha and asked her to wait a little longer. He didn’t write much. He wasn’t much of a writer. 

     The war was on. He and Hicks met almost every two weeks on supply link-ups. They still had great plans for some day. And, ever in the back of his mind, there was Leitha.