Belinda (16 page)

‘Make haste,' Helle whispered, and led Belinda away from the sleeping camp. One of the spare horses was tethered to a small tree with a blanket over its broad back and a sack of oats slung on either side. ‘Walk it quietly for twenty minutes,' Helle whispered. ‘Then get on and ride away from here as quickly as you can. With a couple of hours start the wagons will never catch you.'

‘But why?' asked Belinda. ‘Why are you doing this? You wanted me branded.'

‘Belinda, are you as stupid as they are evil?' smiled Helle, putting her arms around Belinda's waist. ‘I did that because I knew their idiotic laws wouldn't permit them to accept my input.'

‘Oh, dear Helle, I'm so sorry.' Belinda embraced her. ‘You mean you are prepared to accept one of their foul punishments just to save me?'

‘I am used to it,' she replied with a shrug. ‘Besides, they'll be less harsh with me.' She slipped her hands under Belinda's blouse and stroked her sides. It was nice and gentle, and Belinda reciprocated. ‘They've been beating me and Jens ever since I can remember,' Helle explained. ‘We're quite used to it all by now.'

The pretty girl felt wonderful, and Belinda's hands inched up and cupped her firm breasts. Belinda was torn between excitement and embarrassment at her own actions when Helle did the same and pinched her erect nipples.

‘Jens and I hate them,' Helle said dreamily. ‘When we get to California we are going to run away and live together without any pretend religion.'

Her thumbs rubbed Belinda's nipples with unexpected authority. Her hands slipped away and then returned to unbutton Belinda's blouse. Belinda felt the girl's hot breath on her left breast and then her nipple being sucked into the warm wet mouth. A hand wormed beneath her short skirt and a finger expertly found her clitoris.

‘Quickly,' she heard Helle urge through swirling emotions. ‘We have little time.'

Belinda needed no further encouragement. She sighed softly and clung tightly to Helle as the Danish girl leaned her back against the uninterested horse and brought her to a wonderful orgasm. They clung together for some time, and then Helle pulled away.

‘Go now,' she ordered. ‘You must not be caught here. God speed, and let us hope Jens and I will meet you again in California.'

Overcome with gratitude and genuine affection, Belinda pulled Helle close and kissed her deeply and with a fervour that shook Belinda herself. She tore herself away with tears in her eyes. ‘I'll look out for you,' she said, and led the horse westward into the night.

Belinda's life was a succession of ever-increasing misery. This was her predominant thought during the next week as she followed the trails of the pioneers and prospectors through the Rocky Mountains. The way was arduous but clearly defined by the passage of many previous wagons. In the higher altitudes their wheel marks could still be seen frozen in the mud. The days presented breathtaking views, but the vastness and utter loneliness of this mountain wilderness made Belinda feel incredibly insecure and humble.

Every day she offered thanks to Helle for her thoughtfulness in providing the sacks of oats. Not for the horse, there was enough vegetation for him, but for Belinda. Crystal clear ponds and streams were plentiful, allowing her to wash and drink regularly, but only the coarse cereal saved her from starvation. It was dry and full of husks and stalks, but she made the crudest porridge by wetting handfuls of it in mountain streams and crushing it in her palms. It made her retch but it kept her going, especially through the bone-freezing nights when the horse blanket brought little comfort to her scantily clad body.

On the morning of the seventh day, feeling faint from her miserable diet and lack of sleep, Belinda was heartened to see a fork in the road ahead. As a feature it was interesting enough, after a week without any choice of route, but what set Belinda's heart racing dangerously was that the smaller left hand branch went at forty-five degrees from the main trail. Southwest! Belinda had been getting worried about her constant westerly direction, but was this a chance to head the way she wanted – or would it be a long and dangerous dead end?

Impatient at the horse's laboured pace she swung down and hurried to the junction. It was an established track, although not as well trodden as the main route. The sun showed that it did indeed head southwest, with the added attraction of being downhill. Belinda did not take long in making her choice. She quickly turned to fetch the horse, and her heart froze. She was just in time to see him galloping around a bend a few hundred yards back – and with it went the oats. Belinda was terrified at the thought of starvation, and she cursed her stupidity for not tethering the animal in her joy at seeing the new road.

She staggered and stumbled down the southwest path for hours, knowing that death could not be far away. Exhausted, her eyes kept blurring and her mind wandered. She even saw a man sitting on a veranda on a squeaking rocking chair, sipping from a cup and reading a book in the shade of his house. She was hallucinating; dreaming of the suburban English life she would never see again.

‘I say, you look as if you could do with a cup of tea!' the man called, cheerily waving his cup at her. A look of concern replaced his smile as he saw Belinda totter, and he hurried onto the trail to take her arm and lead her in. The firmness of his grip brought Belinda's faculties back. He was real! Though the house turned out to be a natural stone porch that led into a large and well-furnished cave. It was unbelievable! Bricks, carpentry and plaster had been used extensively to make the place acceptably comfortable. The wild-haired man set Belinda in an armchair and crouched beside her. ‘I am Doctor Gerhardt, the country's only specialist in disorders of the psyche.' He smiled sympathetically at Belinda's bewilderment. ‘If you were looking for my clinic, you have found it. And if you were looking for it on foot, in those clothes and without provisions, then you definitely need my help.'

Belinda simply stared at him, mesmerised by his enormous blue eyes and bushy white eyebrows, as he babbled on happily. ‘In spite of my excellent English, I am in fact Austrian,' he said. ‘But please, I am forgetting my manners – allow me to introduce my assistant, Nurse Lucy Chan.'

As he spoke a lovely oriental woman appeared from an alcove. She smiled at Belinda, who was having serious problems in accepting this turn of events. She was beginning to have sincere doubts about her own sanity.

‘I hope you like the uniform,' said the doctor with infectious enthusiasm as Belinda stared. ‘One day all nurses will be dressed thus – believe me…' His wistful eyes devoured the vision as they had doubtless devoured it countless times before.

It was the uniform as much as Nurse Lucy's mystical beauty that astonished Belinda. There was no way the design would ever be allowed in any respectable hospitals. Belinda did think the tiny white hat was cute, but the correctness of the short pale blue dress that clung provocatively to the nurse's curvaceous form was highly questionable. There were white buttons down the front from her shadowy cleavage to her smooth thighs. Small lapels started just above her breasts, and to Belinda it was more like a tight coat than a dress.

The strange couple fed Belinda and treated her with consideration while the doctor outlined his eccentric theories. As she relaxed, she learnt that he came from a very old and extremely wealthy Viennese family. It seemed his ancestors found his progressive ideas an embarrassment and financed his Rocky Mountain Psyche Clinic to get rid of him; apparently the remote location helped ‘focus the mind'. He was still looking forward to his first paying client, but in the meantime he and Nurse Lucy had welcomed many passing research patients.

‘And I am pleased to say they all benefited from my deep insight into the malfunctions of their psyches,' he smiled as he paced up and down. ‘Do you know,' he suddenly frowned, ‘before coming here most of them did not even know they had a problem!' He smiled again. ‘But what about you? What is your problem, my dear… is it sexual?'

Belinda jumped and blushed furiously. Although listening to him, her eyes had been drawn magnetically to the white buttons that struggled to keep the stretched dress fastened over Nurse Lucy's ample bosom, and she realised she had been wondering if the doctor was ever tempted to pop them open and allow the contents to spring free. His words therefore struck deep.

‘I told you I have insight, Belinda…' His voice dropped to a hypnotic whisper. ‘Come now,' he prompted gently. ‘Tell us all about your secret problems.'

‘My only problem is that in trying to get to Los Angeles every man and woman I meet seems intent on taking advantage of me,' she said, her relaxed state giving her the confidence to show a little anger.

‘A sexual problem,' nodded Doctor Gerhardt. ‘Just as I thought.'

‘It's not me with the problem, doctor. It's those vile people who need your services, not me.' Privately she considered his unheard of ideas on disorders of the mind to be absolute claptrap. But there was a certain power about him, a force that was drawing her out of herself.

He stopped pacing and slumped into an armchair opposite her. Nurse Lucy knelt next to Belinda's knees and stroked her calves gently. Her touch was such that Belinda could not take offence or stop her. ‘Tell the doctor everything,' she said kindly.

It took a considerable time for Belinda to unburden her soul. With the encouragement of both the doctor and the nurse she detailed her encounters from Liverpool to the Rocky Mountains at great length. She felt no embarrassment as she graphically described each sexual incident, nor did she wonder why she spoke so freely as she gazed into the doctor's perceptive eyes.

At last she had told all. There was a silence and a stillness; nobody spoke or moved for some time. Eventually the doctor uncrossed his legs and the spell was broken. Belinda blinked. She noticed there was a pronounced swelling in his trousers where before there had been none, and that the nurse's hand was wedged firmly between her thighs. She didn't mind on either count; he would have been abnormal if he hadn't found her tale highly arousing, and the nurse's touch was more reassuring than sexual.

‘You are too fond of sex and you are too fond of pain,' diagnosed the doctor after some further deliberation.

‘That's not fair,' retorted Belinda indignantly, although she suspected it might be. So disorientated did his statement make her feel that she didn't really notice the nurse slip her hand from between her thighs and drift away.

‘You complain you have been abused.' He clearly sensed another conquest.

‘Yes.'

‘Yet at the slave plantation you raised no objection to what took place?'

Belinda lowered her gaze and remained silent. The doctor shook his head. ‘You played very happily with the Boston party,' he pursued relentlessly.

‘They plied me with alcoholic drinks,' she protested.

He raised his bushy eyebrows. ‘Did you really object to the Danish group's actions at any point? Did you refuse to join in, or threaten to report them at the next town?'

Belinda nibbled her lower lip as he increased the pressure.

‘Did you, an intelligent and educated young lady, at any time ask if there was alternative and decent employment available in Golden Seat?'

His words stabbed at Belinda's heart and she now felt worse than at any time since arriving on these inhospitable shores. Her deep shame was crushing her more than the awesome Rockies ever could. This doctor was no quack. He had penetrated her very soul.

‘You even admitted, in a light aside, that you might have enjoyed the Indians' attentions were it not for the fear of death.'

Belinda wished the savages had killed her. ‘Can you do anything for me?' she whispered, her lips trembling as she fought back the tears.

With impeccable timing Nurse Lucy appeared holding a pen, inkpot and a piece of paper. ‘Sign the consent form, my dear,' urged Doctor Gerhardt. ‘Place your trust in me. I can save you from yourself with my Repulsion Therapy. It works. Have you ever heard the saying “too much of a good thing”?' Belinda nodded. ‘That is exactly how I will cure you. I will turn your own destructive desires against themselves. But you must trust me totally. You must obey me and you must be completely truthful. Do you understand?'

Belinda thought she understood. She took a deep breath and signed the form.

‘Excellent,' enthused the doctor, rising.

Belinda looked up and the first thing she saw was his trousers bulging like a ballet-dancer's tights. She blushed and quickly averted her eyes.

‘No,' he urged, ‘take a good look. You must follow your instincts fully and freely for this to work.'

Belinda didn't know what to think any more, but she slowly lifted her face and gazed upon his distorted white trousers. He was close, and what to do next she had no idea.

‘You must feel it,' he whispered, as though reading her befuddled mind. ‘You must confront your inner-self.' He reached down, took her wrist, and pressed her palm over the solid lump. It uncoiled and inched up towards his waistline like a snake under cover. Its heat permeated the white material.

‘You like it?' he asked, pressing his groin closer.