Free Summer of Love by Gian Bordin

Leabhain
came into view, the lieutenant steered them to the right over the gently
undulating high plateau to the upper glen of the Achmore Burn, which
opened up the view to the distant light blue waters of Loch Tay. Andrew
realized that this would bring them closer to the MacGregor shielings. Barely
over the saddle into the glen they surprised a group of women digging roots
near the creak about a half a mile further down. The women spotted them
too. After a moment’s hesitation, they dropped whatever they were doing,
raised their skirts and started running toward the ridge several hundred feet
to the east. Gordon and his dragoons immediately gave chase and had the
group surrounded before they managed to reach the ridge that dropped down
to the forested ravine below. Andrew followed more slowly. As he got
closer, he recognized Mary MacGregor, Helen, her younger sister Betty, and
two other women in their early thirties, one with a young boy of six or seven.
Betty was crying hysterically. The women were breathing hard and eyeing
the dragoons apprehensively.
         His heart pounding high in his throat, Andrew held back. He couldn’t tell
if they had recognized him. He was in turmoil. Part of him simply wanted to
gallop away so that he wouldn’t have to face Helen. Part wanted to charge
Lieutenant Gordon and kill him. But he also knew that this would be foolish.
They were five well-trained soldiers. It would be suicide and wouldn’t help
the women.
         Lieutenant Gordon seemed to have guessed who they were. "So, you’re
the MacGregors from Loch Tay who got away the other day before we
arrived. Aren’t you the one with the old hag?" he addressed Mary directly.
"And where are your men?"
         Mary’s expression did not hide her contempt for the Englishman, nor did
she deign him with an answer.
         "Woman, I’m talking to you. Where are your men?" shouted Gordon,
anger reddening his face for being ignored so contemptuously in front of his
men.
         She responded with a sneer: "I don’t know. But even if I did, I would
hardly tell you!"
         "We can easily make you talk, woman. Don’t expect me to show you
mercy again as I did the other day."
         "It doesn’t take much courage to attack defenseless women and children,
but then we wouldn’t really expect more from the English," came her
derisive answer.
         Fuming, Gordon dismounted and approached her threateningly. She
stayed proudly put, her eyes fierce. He grabbed her plaid and ripped it off.
The brooch holding it in place tore the front of her petticoat, revealing her
bosom. He laughed and reached for a breast. She spat in his face.
         "I’ll teach you, you bitch," he shouted, landing a punch under her rib cage.
Winded, she pressed her fists into her stomach, fighting her urge to buckle
forward. He started tearing her petticoat. For a moment she was stunned and
then fought back. But he was a big, strong man and threw her easily to the
ground. She got up, naked, facing him defiantly. He threw her down again.
She tried to stumble back on her feet. Grabbing her with his left arm around
the waist from behind, he forced her to her knees. He twisted her right arm
up her back, pushing her upper body forward. She stifled a scream of pain,
biting her lips. He went down on his knees and opened his breeches. With a
rough push he entered her from behind. She gasped and closed her eyes.
         This was the signal for the four dragoons to fall on the other women and
girls. The two women started to run away again. They were hunted down by
two pursuers. A third went after Helen. She dodged him several times.
         It all escalated so fast that Andrew’s first reaction was paralysis. No, this
can’t be happening! He needed to retch. Then he saw the fourth dragoon
jumps off his horse near Betty. She had not moved, like frozen to the ground,
still whining hysterically, a hand over her mouth, watching in terror the
lieutenant rape