I just couldn't figure these bible thumpers out. They'd all given up comfortable lives back east, just so they could bring civilization to the heathen Indians. Now here we were, camped at the foothills of the Rockies and the heathens were about to tell us that they didn't want our fucking civilization.

Our camp had been overrun during the night. I'm not sure how, I think Bromley had gone to sleep or something, but I really don't know. Gromley and Ned Smith had both been killed trying to defend the camp, but it had been useless. With those two dead, there were only four of us men against about a hundred Indians. It was over in a hurry, and now we were sitting with our wrists and ankles tied, under the watchful eyes of those heathens we were going to civilize.

Then their Chief addressed us. I was amazed that he spoke better English than I did. He gave us a long speech about how he had been taken east as a child and raised in New York, but eventually he had gotten fed up with the white man's ways and come back to his people. The one thing he did miss though was the burlesque shows. Indian women just couldn't get the hang of it. So he was going to have our women put on a little show for all of us to enjoy. After the show was over, they'd keep what they wanted and the rest of us could go on about our business.

I have to admit, I thought it was a pretty good deal. We were going to get out with our lives and it sounded like we were going to get to see the women strip as well. I hadn't had a woman since we'd left St. Louis over two months ago, and every one of these was a good looker. Even the fat one had started to look better as the trip wore her down. If the Indians kept any of the women, well, them's the breaks. At least the rest of us would still be alive.

Major Bromley, however, was having none of it. He was at his bible thumping best. "No, no," he screamed. "You can't force them to do that! These are good Christian women! They'll die before they'll submit to your bestial demands!"