Leigh's Cauldron

She had seen the Shawnee war party as they approached and had hidden in the cellar. As she huddled in the darkness, she tried to cock the pistol. When the door broke open, her one shot missed it's mark. The Shawnee laughed and grabbed her.

She was stripped completely naked and dragged to a pine tree at the front of the cabin. No effort was made to rape her, that was not the Shawnee way. White women were not worthy of their manliness. She was forced against the tree and her wrists and ankles were bound. The Indians began to gather wood and kindling. Leigh realized her fate. She was to be burned alive at the stake. She had heard tales of white women meeting that cruel fate before. She thought of her bare feet soon being enveloped in the flames, imagined her scorched nakedness mocked by the laughing savages as they danced around the tree.

Perhaps her husband or one of the other men would find her. Perhaps there was the chance of rescue. If not, if the fire was already consuming her, perhaps they could send a merciful piece of lead into her heart and end her suffering.

Her heart chilled when she noticed the large iron cauldron which stood in the back yard. The were piling the kindling and wood around it. They had no intention of roasting her.

They were going to boil her alive. Boiled to death in her own pot.

She was cut loose from her bonds and dragged to the cauldron. She had used it to boil clothes, every now and then to cook a large stew for a community gathering. It was a large pot and she had always been proud to own it.

Now she would be cooked in it.

She was dumb with terror as she was forced into the cauldron. There was no need for bonds, her knees were pressed tightly against her breasts. Only her head remained above the water which the Indians had drawn from the well.

Soon the fire was lit. Terror finally loosened her tongue. "What...What are you going to do to me?", she cried.

To her surprise, one of the Shawnee spoke in English. "We are going to boil you as we would a chicken. Then we will feast."

The water was getting hotter. Spices stolen from her kitchen were added to the pot. "You are going to eat me?", she asked incredulously.

"You whites have ravaged the forests. The hunting grounds are empty. We have a taste for white meat."

Leigh boiled for about an hour. She screamed as the water in the cauldron began grow hotter and hotter. It bubbled at her nipples and between her legs and her toes. The sides and bottom of the pot grew hideously, scorching hot. She squirmed to keep as much of her naked skin away from the burning iron. She screamed and cried out in pain, but her captors only laughed and watched.

Soon the nerve endings burned away and there was no more pain. Soon, there was no more life.

Her flesh was tender, so tender that some of it was taken back to tribe. So was her scalp. No one would eat the scalp.

It would be like having a hair in the soup.