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The Paleface And The Indian

By Richard Campbell

"You're a bloody pain in the arse, you know that?" his oldest brother said angrily.

Gavin looked down and didn't reply.

"I've got my own things to do and I'm sick of driving you everywhere. Janie and her friends wanted me to go swimming with them today. But, no! I can't. Because bloody baby brother wants to go camping and I have to take him there. She really fancies me but it doesn't matter if Ilose out on as long as hegets what he wants. Well don't just sit there you little prick, get your stuff out of the car and bugger off. And if a wolf or something gets you and you never come back don't worry about it, we'll all be glad. None of us want you!"

Gavin opened the door thinking that it never did any good to say anything, and what Thomas had said was true anyway. Neither his parents nor his three brothers wanted him, so why argue? It would just make things worse. Thomas, like his other brothers, was a lot bigger than he was.

It was still felt odd getting out of the right hand side of the car instead of the left. Everything was strange here. He opened the tailgate and pulled out his backpack and the bundle containing the rest of his stuff, hoping he hadn't forgotten anything. No-one was going to bring it to him if he had.

Thomas accelerated angrily away, tyres screeching as he floored the accelerator, leaving Gavin standing in a swirl of smoke and dust. Neither had said goodbye. In fact Gavin hadn't said a single word since they left the house.

He sighed, relieved to be away from the pressure of his brother's company. He would be on his own now for the next four days, with no-one to worry about and only his thoughts to keep him company. The way he liked it. At least, well he liked being away from his family, but it would be nice if he was with a friend or something. Sighing again, he settled the pack on his back and picked up the awkward bundle. He'd never had a friend, so what would he know about it?

After leaving the reception building, It took him an hour of hard walking to reach the small cove he'd chosen when they'd visited three weeks earlier. Well before he got there he knew it had been a mistake to pack the bundle. He should have squeezed everything into the pack, or done without. He'd know better next time. It was tiring but well worth the long walk. As far as he could tell he was completely alone in the midst of incredible scenery. He had never seen anything like the densely wooded mountains reflected in the shimmering, blue waters of the lake.

After looking around he decided to pitch his tent close enough to the water to have a good view, but far enough back to be reasonably hidden if anyone came past. The lake was used for boating and swimming, and there were well trodden paths close to the shore as well. People in boats would be alright, they'd be out on the water, but he didn't want any swimmers or hikers disturbing his solitude. His new school, with its hordes of kids was going to be bad enough, and the first day of term was approaching all too quickly. His heart sank at the thought.

When the tent was up and his stuff tidied away he went in search of wood. He had a tiny gas stove for cooking but it would be pleasant to have a fire in the evenings, the nights were starting to get cold. It was one of the reasons the area was so deserted. Most of the holiday makers had already taken their vacation (as it was called here) and returned home. He would be amongst the last of the visitors.

There was plenty of dead wood close by so he brought back enough to last for his sta, and piled it up neatly next to the tent, hoping he'd be alright lighting the fire. He hadn't had much practice.

He was sitting with his legs crossed, gazing contentedly over the water when he noticed the canoe approaching the cove from his right. His stomach muscles tensed but he tried to remain calm as he watched it, relieved when he recognised one of the park rangers (were they called rangers in America?) that he'd seen when he'd booked his stay. The young man smiled at him, his white teeth contrasting sharply with his tanned face, as brought the canoe to a halt with a deft stroke of his paddle.

"Hi there. You're Gavin, right?"

Gavin stood up. "Er, yes," he said awkwardly.

"You've chosen a nice place to camp. Do you need any help with anything?"

"I, er, don't think so. But thank you for asking," Gavin replied politely.

"You've got our number in case of emergency?"



"I beg your pardon, I mean yes. Yes I have."

The man, no boy, smiled at him again. He must be about eighteen Gavin thought.

"Well if you have any problems, call us. We're a bit worried about you being here on your own, with so few people around."

"I'm always on my own. I . . . I like it." He looked at his feet as he spoke.

The ranger (or whatever he was) looked at him, then shrugged. It wasn't any of his business, but this kid was so small!He had to be at least fifteen, but looked more like eleven. He seemed reasonably competent though. There was a pile of wood near the tent, and he'd placed a ring of stones where a fire wouldn't get out of control. Maybe they learned how to do that at boy guides, or whatever it was England.

"OK, I'll leave you in peace then. But remember, we're here if you need us Gavin, any time, day or night. And if you change your mind about wanting some company, come on down to the post. We'll be glad to see you. I'm Jerry, by the way."

Gavin gave him a shy smile. "Thank you Jerry, I'll remember. But as I said, I'm used to being on my own."

Jerry smiled back and nodded. The kid might be a loner as he claimed but he looked lonely. He made up his mind to check on him at least twice a day. It was part of his job anyway. "See you then Gavin. Enjoy your stay." He backed the canoe into the open water, then paddled rapidly back the way he'd come.

Once he was out of sight, Gavin sat down again thinking about what he'd said. It was nice to be invited to the post, although how welcoming they would be once they knew what he was, was a different matter altogether. He shrugged. If they found out, they found out. It always happened sooner or later anyway.

How lucky American kids were to have all this space he mused, resuming his contemplation of the lake. Back home there wasn't a speck of land that wasn't owned by someone, and they made sure that no-one trespassed on it too. He could only have camped at an official site, closely surrounded by people and with millions of rules and regulations. He wouldn't have been allowed to light a fire either. Here, they not only allowed it, but had even shown him how!

It was incredibly peaceful. No radios blasting out pop music at full volume, all day and half the night, no loud aggressive voices, no louts invading his personal space when their mis-directed footballs whacked into his tent – or himself. None of the traffic noise that you never got away from because Britain was so small and overcrowded. Just this space, solitude, and quiet. The sun shining in a cloudless sky, the gentle lapping of the water as a mischievous breeze teased the surface of the lake, and best of all, verybest of all, no people anywhere. No-one looking at him. Nobody taking the mickey when his still unreliable voice squeaked, no-one sniggering and making nasty comments about him – or worse. He gave a sigh of relief. He hadn't really realised, until now, that this was what he'd needed so much, and why he'd fought to come here alone.

When he'd asked them, his parents had said that one of his brothers must come with him. He had gone cold as he imagined it, imagined being alone here with a furious brother. A brother who didn't want to be here, didn't want anything to do with him, and hated camping. A brother who would retaliate by making his life hell, with no-one see him, no-one to interfere, and no-one to put a stop to it. Had they insisted, he would have abandoned the idea altogether.

Fortunately their indifference to him, plus his brothers' angry protests, had decided them to let him go by himself. Once they were assured that the park people would keep an eye on him, they were as pleased as his brothers were to have him out of the house. It was so much more peaceful without him.

Neither parent had ever accepted that he did his best to keep out of the way and never started anything. Nor did they understand that there seemed to be something about him which provoked his brothers' aggression, and the only excuse they needed to bully him was the fact that he existed. It had been the same at his previous school, and the new one wouldn't be any different.

No! He would notthink about it. The reality was going to be bad enough without worrying about it in advance. In spite of himself, his face twisted. If he didn't do something right away he was going to start crying, the thought of school had already brought tears to his eyes. He'd go for a walk around the lake, that would distract him. He got to his feet and started walking in the opposite direction to the ranger post.

The Indian came from nowhere. One minute Gavin was alone on the path, gazing at his feet as he walked; the next minute this apparition had materialised in front of him, as if out of thin air. He came to a startled halt, staring, his mouth slightly open. Where on earth had he come from? How had he done it so quietly, and did they really dress like that these days?

The boy, in spite of his height he was obviously still a boy, maybe a year older than himself, was looking at him with a slight frown on his face. He was wearing fringed leather trousers and what looked like handmade moccasins on his feet. Handmade? In this day and age? For a dizzy moment Gavin wondered if he had stepped into a sort of time warp thing, and gone back into the past.

Seeing the look on his face, the boy's frown changed to a smile. Then he laughed. "I don't have my tomahawk with me, so I'll scalp you later paleface."

It took a minute to sink in, then Gavin smiled back. "I don't believe this," he said, shaking his head.

The boy looked at him closely. "Nor do I. You're really . . ." His face changed, the frown coming back. "Why were you crying little paleface?"

Gavin's eyes dropped. "How did you know?" Somehow he didn't think it worth trying to deny it, though boys of course, weren't allowed to cry. Not in hisfamily at anyrate.

"I've been watching you since you set up your tent."

"Oh. I didn't see you."

"I didn't want you to."

Gavin nodded. He might have known. He was turning to retrace his steps when the boy spoke quickly.

"I didn't know what you were then, because I was too far away. I know now. Don't go, Gavin. I didn't mean to upset you."

Slowly Gavin turned back to face him. "How do you know what I . . . I mean, how do you know my name? Oh of course, you heard Jerry talking to me."

His smile reminded him of Jerry's. He had the same straight white teeth and contrasting dark skin, though that of the boy in front of him had an attractive reddish tint. No wonder they'd been called Redskins in the olden days. He had long black hair too, which hung down his back in a thick braid. There was even a feather stuck in it.

"Are you really an Indian?"

"We call ourselves Native Americans these days, but yes, I am. Are you really a Paleface?"

Gavin smiled. "I suppose so. I don't tan, my skin just burns badly then peels."

"You have a beautiful skin," the boy said appraising him, "I can see that you need to be careful."

Gavin flushed and to change the subject asked shyly, "What's your name?"

"Tye. Tye Johnson."

"That doesn't sound like an Indian . . . er, sorry, Native American name."

"I have a tribal name as well. And I don't mind you calling me an indian Gavin, provided you don't mind me calling you a paleface."

Gavin laughed. "No-one's ever called me by a nickname before. What is Tye short for?"

"It's usually short for Tyson. But actually I'm just Tye."

"And your other name, your Indian one? Or aren't you allowed to say?" He had a vague memory of reading once that if an Indian (No, Native American!) revealed their real name to a stranger it meant bad luck or something.

Tye seemed to read his mind. "I don't often tell people, but I don't mind telling you."

The mellifluous flow of syllables meant nothing to Gavin.

"It means Happy Laughter," Tye explained.

"I'm not sure I could pronounce it without lots of practice. May I call you Happy Laughter? It seems to suit you."

"Course you can. Can I call you Little Paleface? That suits you." After a pause he said, "Why do you talk like that?"

"Like what?"

"You said 'may I' instead of 'can I', and you have a funny accent too."

"Oh I see. I'm English."

Tye nodded. "That’s why you talk funny then."

"I don't talk funny," Gavin said indignantly. "You're the one who talks funny."

Tye laughed. "It's fun to wind you up. And I love the way you blush, it makes you look really cute."

Gavin who had gone from flush to blush in one second flat had to laugh. "Behave, Indian boy."

"Okay, Paleface boy. But I meant what I said. I love your pink and white skin, and you're so cute as well."

"You're getting worse," Gavin said, giggling.

"Oh, I get much worse than that. Like this." Tye stepped forward, reached around him and pulled Gavin tightly against himself. "If you don't mind, that is," he added belatedly.

Gavin tensed, his upbringing and his urges fighting each other. He wanted this so badly, had wanted it for so long, but knew from contemporaries, religion, law, and especially family, that it was wrong. Wrong, Illegal, bad, and . . . dirty!

Tye could tell from the tension in his small body that Gavin was unsure about being held, but wasn't about to stop. If this was to be the only time he ever held the little paleface in his arms, he was going to make the most of it. Besides, whatever Gavin was telling himself, he knew better. He knew what Gavin was, had known from the minute he'd come up close to him.

He looked down and kissed the top of Gavin's head, inhaling the scent of his fair hair. That colour! Such a contrast to his own. He felt Gavin's involuntary jerk, but refused to release him. It was too pleasant, too satisfying, and far too stimulating to let him go.

Gavin was breathing hard and his heart had started to pound. He was suddenly conscious that not only was he in a boy's arms – and where anybody could see them too! – but his cheek was pressed firmly against that same boy's chest. His barechest! He drew in his breath with a tiny gasp. He wanted to tell Tye to let him go, to push him away, but for some reason, he was totally paralysed. The realisation made him panic slightly.

Tye was used to small animals and loosened his grip, murmured softly and brought a hand up to stroke the back of his head soothingly. It soon had an effect and Gavin began to relax.

"It's alright Little Paleface, there's no need to be upset. I'm holding you because I like you. You're really beautiful you know, and I love holding you. Are you okay with it now?" he asked a few minutes later.

"Er, I, er yes. But, could you hold me a little less tightly please?" Gavin had realised that though most of him had relaxed, one bit hadn't done so at all, and was becoming more intrusive by the second.

Tye, who hadnoticed it and was wondering if Gavin could feel his own reaction, moved his hands, but instead of letting him go, slipped them down until he was holding his bottom. Gavin arched his back so that he could look up into his face. Tye was at least thirty centimetres (no, they didn't use the metric system here!) Tye was about, a foot taller than he was. He felt tiny in comparison.

"Tye, er, Happy Laughter," he said in a hesitating voice, "Are you, I mean have you, er, that is, umm . . . Are, er, can you be . . . umm, the same?"

"I thought you said you were English, Little Paleface," Tye said, laughing. "What language are you talking?"

"I'm speaking English. What do you mean?"

"I think you're trying to, but you're not making any sense. Try again, using proper English this time."

"What do you mean proper English? I speak proper English. You're the one who doesn't speak English. You speak American."

Tye giggled. It was such a happy sound that Gavin felt his heart flutter, and understood why he had been given his Indian (No, Native American) name.

"Maybe this will help you make sense when you talk."

As Gavin looked up at him, puzzled, Tye took his head in both hands, and gently kissed him on the mouth.

As a method of improving Gavin's speech it was an unmitigated disaster. All he could do was splutter.

Tye laughed. "It doesn't always work right the first time," he said, and kissed him again.

The second kiss produced two results. First, Gavin thought his legs were going to give way and to support himself (for no other reason whatsoever!), put his arms around Tye's neck, and second, after only the tiniest hesitation, he kissed Tye back.

Two further results ensued. First, the rest of his body, like his legs, started to give way and to support him, Tye moved his hands down to his neat little bottom and pulled him close again. And second, he teased Gavin's lips with his tongue.

This led to a further, and most explosive result. As Tye held him firmly, Gavin squirmed against him involuntarily, and a completely unexpected orgasm swooped out of the blue into his cock, tightened his balls, arched his pelvis, held him in groaning ecstasy for long delirious seconds, then exploded the sperm out of his body and into his underpants.

He whimpered and sagged against the Native American boy, totally spent, wondering what had hit him, and how it could have happened so fast. Tye moved a hand back into his hair to stroke and soothe him again, leaving the other where it was, supporting most of his weight.

"Tye, I'm sorry, I'm, I'm ashamed . . . "

"There's nothing to be sorry about and nothing to be ashamed of Little Paleface. You just needed it very badly. The only thing I'msorry about is that I couldn't watch. I'd have loved that, and even more if I'd made it happen by using my hand."

"You mean you, you don't mind?"

"Mind? I'm the same as you, and I'm going to hold you and touch you and love you and make you do it again as often as you'll let me. Would you like that?"

Gavin looked at him with wide, wondering eyes. "Like that? I'd lovethat! But only if I can do the same to you. I've been looking for someone like you all my life."

Happy Laughter laughed happily, picked up the little paleface and carried him into the tent where they undressed each other admiringly, laughing, touching, caressing and kissing.

"Little Paleface," Tye Johnson said with a smirk, "I said I'd scalp you later, but someone got there first."

"What do you mean?" Gavin asked.

"This pretty, pink head," Happy Laughter said, giggling as he kissed the little paleface's circumcised penis, "It's already been scalped!"

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