Teach Me Your Love

by Rita Hestand

  "You did not like the Comanches?" he questioned with a slight smirk. He knew the answer before he asked, but he wanted to know her thoughts on this.

  "Like them? Hardly! They are rough and mean and expected so much from me I had very few good days with them, I slept even less."

  "Yes," he nodded and turned to stare at her now, his eyes going over her again with interest, "the Comanche slave has a hard life, it is true."

  "When Bear Foot, is that what you call him…?"

  "Yes, Bear Foot."

  "When he traded for me, I was very happy, even though I didn't know my fate here, either. Just to be gone from there was a relief. No one spoke my language, if they did, they hid it from me. The women taunted me endlessly. So much so, the men did not touch me. I guess I should be grateful for that much."

  "The Comanche women were mean to you?"

  "Very."

  He nodded. "That sounds like the truth."

  "I do not lie, sir!" she retorted.

  "No?" He turned his head in question.

  "No." she insisted raising her chin higher.

  "Let's go back to your white husband. It intrigues me. You were married to this white man?" He asked his look of amazement staring at her. "He was white, right?"

  "Y-yes…" She looked at him in question. "What does that matter to you?"

  "It matters greatly," he told her. "I would not take a virgin white woman to wed."

  "Wed?" She screeched in horror. "Oh, for heaven sakes, I'll not marry you, sir. White people only marry one woman at a time, and certainly not Indians."

  "You just said your white husband had two other wives, did you not." He frowned as though trying to sort this information out for himself. Was she lying? Or just a great storyteller?

  "Yes!" she frowned but still didn't explain. Red Elk was very patient. He was confident he would get the story from her in time.

  "You will marry me, you have no choice. The only other alternative is death. And I don't think you are ready to die as much as you screamed out there." He chuckled.

  "You can't possibly be serious." She turned her head away. "Why would you want me for a wife anyway? You know nothing of me."

  "That is not your concern. It will be so." But he reached the distance and with a strong hand he turned her chin toward him, once more. "I am very serious. Surely you did not think yourself a guest here."

  "Of course, I didn't. I couldn’t get that lucky. But you must know, I will not marry you…!" She boldly declared. "I will not marry again! I won't make that mistake again."

  He laughed heartily. "You will. You have no choice, if you do not, all the tribe will have you, and then you will be put to death. It is our right if you refuse to slave for us."

  Her eyes widened as the light from the fire mirrored them and his eyes softened on her. "It is better to have only one man than many, is it not?"

  His voice cajoled.

  "You, you—can't mean it, you don't know me" She cried. "Whites don't marry Indians."

  "Oh, but you're wrong, I am proof of that."

  Her head jerked about to stare at him. She let her glance slide over him again, once more. Then her eyes widened. "You're a breed?" she screeched.

  The word 'breed' on her lips was no nicer than 'Indian", he noted. His glance narrowed on her now. "Yes, my mother was white."

  "A slave, no doubt?" she scathed.

  "Your wrinkle your little nose, as though it is distasteful to you, to be a white slave."

  Her mouth gaped open. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to offend."

  "You are wrong, many whites marry Indians. Many by choice too." He didn't respond to her frown, instead he stared into the fire. "In five moons, we will wed. You will clean yourself the morning of our wedding and wear the Indian dress laying on the blanket. You will be my slave until we marry at least. After that you will be my willing slave."

  "I will not marry you, sir!" She insisted lifting her chin defiantly. When he didn't react, she babbled on. "And I would never be willing…"

  "You would rather be raped and die?"

  "Yes…"

  "We will see. You are very stubborn, but here that stubbornness can get you killed. I am trying to help you. You should be grateful."

  He had no intention of letting her die, but he wasn't about to divulge that to her until she quit fighting him. He had to break some of that stubbornness about her.

  "Why bother with me at all?" She asked with a sullen glance. "Why won't you take me to this Camp Tucson. To my people?" She insisted.

  He shook his head and rolled his eyes. "I'm afraid you don't understand. You lived with the Comanche seven month or more, now you are with the Apache. And you honestly think the whites will want you back? Have you not seen for yourself how women are treated when returned from captivity?"

  She bowed her head.

  "How would you know how they are treated?"

  "I am a scout for the soldiers, I have seen how they are treated. It must not have occurred to you that you have no people any longer." He let that sink in for a moment. "So, you see, we have something in common. A breed has no people, you have no people."

  He saw her eyes widened just a tad and smiled.

  "The very fact that one of our own took you as a slave is enough to start a war. My village does not take captive white women."

  "Then what am I doing here?"

  "Yes, what are you doing here? It's too late." He sighed and turned away. "You have been with Indians too long. Seven months with the Comanche. You think your white husband would welcome you? The whites would not want you back. None of them, including your husband." He glanced at her shock. "You think I lie. They have ideas of their own what we do with white women. It is not always so. We are Apache, more peaceful than the Comanche, but better warriors. At least this tribe is. This great war that many have spoken of is already dividing the land and the people. Your husband is either dead, or he will go into the army to serve. Correct?"

  "I don't know about that. I doubt he'll fight in the war between the states. His religion will forbid it, I am sure."

  "Religion?" Red Elk's attention perked. He turned his head in question. "What religion forbids fighting in a war? There were many battles in the bible."

  Her head jerked about to stare at him again. He knew he surprised her with that statement.

  Funny what white people would believe or not believe of the Indian. He was sure she thought him an ignorant savage. Little did she know!

  Had he said something amusing? It would seem so as she stared endlessly now, her eyes going over him as his had her.

  "You probably won't understand this, and I don't blame you, but my husband is different. My husband is a Mormon." She spat the word as though distasteful.

  Just the way she said the word had Red Elk taking notice. Red Elk had heard the word before, but he knew little to nothing of what that meant… to be a Mormon. This was something new, something he hadn't heard much about and his interest was piqued.

  "I have not heard of this religion."

  "That's understandable. Most of them live in Nebraska Territory, near the Great Salt Lake. I didn't know about them either until a year after I married John. Then I was quickly educated."

  "Oh, how so?" He folded his arms over his massive chest and listened with interest.

  "They have a leader that led them to their promised land and they have taken over that part of the country. Most whites leave them alone, even though they break the law." She hissed. Her obvious distaste for this religion amused, Red Elk.

  "I have heard whispers of something unusual up there, but I did not pay much attention." He seemed to recall it. "It is not my territory and never concerned me. You speak as though you do not share this religion with your white husband."

  "I did not! I would never share that religion."

  Now he stared boldly at her. Why would a religion upset her so?

  "You have something against it?" he asked with amusement.

  "I have a l
ot against it." She spat.

  "Go on… tell me what you have against it."

  She seemed to contemplate what she would say for a moment. "Why do you want to know?"

  "Because it is new to me, and I am interested in learning about it."

  She shrugged. "They believe in multiple marriages, many wives at one time. A fact I was blind to three years ago. And they seem to worship a white man, Brigham Young. There is only one God and Jesus." She told him her voice going softer now. "They are much like the savages in that respect."

  "Savages, you mean Indians?"

  "Yes." She frowned, then because of her insult, she turned her head away.

  He studied her for a long moment, assessing her, from head to toe. Then a slow smile spread over his handsome face. "I agree with you." He said softly.

  Her eyes widened again, "You do?"

  "I do." His smile went over her now.

  She seemed to think on that a moment, but his smile was captivating, and he knew it.

  "You must know this, I want a son, and you will bear one for me…."

  "A son!" She shouted. "I'd never do such a thing. How can you speak to me like this? It's very unseemly."

  "Unseemly?" He chuckled. "Now there is a word."

  "Yes. You are not much different than my white husband. He sought a child too."

  "I speak to you like this because I am in control of you right now, am I not?" He said with a sexier than sin smile.

  He smiled a lot, she didn’t seem to understand that either. Perhaps she noticed that most other Indians didn't smile often.

  "I speak to you like this because I want you to know the truth. I will never lie to you. Lying causes problems. I want no problems. We will marry, and you will give me a son."

  "But I'm already married," she wailed. "Don't you understand that? It would be wrong. It would be against the law… "

  "It is of no importance this white man's marriage. Do you honestly think," he paused to look from her feet to her head, once more with open admiration, "that your white husband would want you back after being with the Comanche so long? And now Apache? No, they are too good to accept someone who has slept with an Indian."

  "I have slept with no Indian." She gasped.

  He wanted to laugh. But it did surprise him that no Comanche had her, as they were known for raping the white captives.

  "Perhaps, but you will." He instructed. "And I can tell you now, they would not believe you. The very fact that you are alive makes them sure you have slept with an Indian. White men think this way of the Indian. Is it not so?"

  He waited to see if she would relax, but she was like a high-strung stallion, and it would take time to tame her.

  "You are foolish to think I would." She spat. "I don't know what they think, but they'd be wrong about me!"

  "Oh, you are special or something?"

  "I have principles and morals and I'm a God-fearing Christian."

  "That's good to know. And we will see who the fool is. Remember this, I'm part white, and that part of me wants to treat you right. Right now, no one else in this tribe will look as favorably on you. Perhaps in time, but not now. Go easy on yourself and do not fight me. I am not a cruel person, I will not mistreat you. I have never mistreated a woman in my life." His eyes went over her once more and he smirked, "Although the temptation is there. Resign yourself now to the fact that you are here, and you will do as you are told to do."

  He walked out. The subject was closed.

  ~~***~~

  She turned very pale. She thought about what he had said, and she weighed her options. She sighed and for a while giving into her feelings, her feet hurt, and she was exhausted. She must find a way to escape. She couldn't marry an Indian, not even a breed.

  Breeds were scorned more than the Indians. She wasn't sure why, but they were.

  She couldn't give into him, even if he was the most handsome man, she'd ever laid eyes upon. She couldn't believe she admitted that to herself. But it was the truth. His smile was sexier than sin itself and she slapped her mouth shut after thinking such a thing.

  I've lost my mind, I'm attracted to an Indian, a breed!

  What would John think of her, thinking these thoughts. Oh, she knew, he'd think she was sinful.

  Now that was a word! John's favorite word to use!

  She had heard that word so often, she hated it.

  As she sat there, she realized for the first time that she hadn't given John a thought in months now. She knew why. Until she came here, she hadn't contemplated what John might be thinking about her capture. She had to concentrate solely on staying alive in the Comanche camp. In the Comanche camp she did what she had to, just to survive.

  But this breed was a different kind of Indian. And her life would probably be much different here.

  Reduced to marrying a breed! Dear God, she needed to pray. Had she forgotten how to after all this time?

  Perhaps John even thought her dead. Despite the fact that he had two other wives, he would not want one that the Indians had used for their purpose. And he would think the worst, just as Red Elk said. Still, deep down in her heart, she knew she didn't want to go back to John. Admitting that to herself, she felt a tear escape down her cheek. She was his wife… was it shameful to not want to return?

  God forgive me, I do not want to return to him.

  Admitting that the Comanche had done her a favor by taking her away, was hard to swallow now. But it was the truth.

  What Red Elk said was the truth, lying only caused problems, and John had caused her a lot of grief with his lie.

  The big question stared at her. Even if she did manage to escape here, where could she go? Where did she belong now? She knew Red Elk was right about other things he said too. It irritated her that he was so right about it all.

  But this arrogant Indian didn't know about her plight.

  She had one edge. The only thing this Indian didn't know was that she never wanted to go back to her white husband. And for that, she did feel sinful.

  When Red Elk came back, she'd fallen asleep, and lay on the blanket curled up. He nudged her.

  She straightened.

  "You are a captive here for now, but if the soldiers knew of you, there would be war. That is fact. Our band has succeeded in peace with General Crook. He has been good to our people. I will serve him. But as for you, we cannot let you go alive. We cannot risk them knowing you were ever here. So," He paused to look at her again. "I'm afraid you are going to have to learn to live with us, the best you can. Bare Foot was wrong to bring you here. But you, have no choice, now. You will be my wife. You will bear my son. You must understand this and not fight it. I realize you want no Indian husband, but at least I speak your language and I am part white too. I am better able to understand you and know what your needs are. It is one of the reasons I took you from Bear Foot. Had you married Bare Foot, it might be a different story, he knows some English, but not much, and like your white husband he has other wives."

  "Why do you want me?" She challenged her chin lifting. "Why not an Indian woman? The slave you traded was beautiful, why not her."

  He sighed heavily. There was much to learn of each other. "It is enough for you to know I want a son; my Indian slaves have not provided one for me. You will."

  "You've slept with your slaves?" She gasped.

  "Of course, they are slaves, not guests. They come from other tribes. And I am not yet married." He cut her a glance. "You are the only white slave here."

  "I will not submit to you…" she challenged again. "You can torture me or kill me if you like."

  "Torture, kill, and rape, is that what you think of Indians?"

  "Isn't it true?"

  He thought about that a moment, from her point of view. "Not here it isn't. I suppose during war time things like that happen. But we are a peaceful tribe, we do not do those things. Painted Dove was the last of my slaves. And you will submit… "

  "You didn't marry any of them?" She asked curio
usly.

  "Marry, what are you talking about?"

  "Your slaves!"

  "No, I am not married. The other slaves are from different tribes, I would never marry them."

  "Then why marry me?" her voice pleaded.

  For a moment he looked at her, then looked away, "I am a breed." He said proudly lifting his chin, not looking at her now. "And unlike some, I am not ashamed of it. In fact, I am proud, I am part white. My tribe does not want to marry a breed. So, I must take slaves to do my biding. But you, you are a white, and I am part white, so it would not be beneath you to marry me."

  "Breeds are thought less of by the white man, than Indians." She countered. She saw something in his face at that comment, almost like she'd slapped his face!

  His voice tightened, "I'm aware of what some think."

  "You are not a man, you are a beautiful woman, what do you think?"

  She stared, her mouth open, no answer came.

  ~~***~~

  He studied her a minute, seeing past the dirt and grime to the beautiful young woman she was. Her spirit wrestled with his.

  "You will live among us. Be one of us. And once you do, you cannot return to your other life. You will be Indian then, not white. Even the whites will think this. I tell you this not to frighten you, but to make you understand what will happen. You will marry me and have my children and no white man would want you back. It is the way it is done. Unless you want Bare Foot to take you back to the Comanche. I could allow that if that's what you want. But I will not guarantee your fate with them. My needs are simple, I want a son. Bare Foot would not marry you though. He will take you but not marry. He has five wives and there is a limit even with him. Do you understand the difference? You have choices, but you must consider them wisely. And you must not hesitate to do so."

  "Even if I did let you touch me, what makes you think I'd have a son? Only God can predict that."

  He smiled now, and her mouth fell open to stare at him, her eyes going over him with silent curiosity. He studied her silently too. "You are too stubborn to have a girl." He smiled sexily at her. "You will in time, have my son."

  "Never!" She shouted.