Enchanted Ecstasy

by Constance O'Banyon

  Kane sensed rather than heard someone standing over him. Opening his eyes, he saw one of the old Indians holding the reins of his horse. Kane stood up and stretched, trying to relieve his cramped muscles. Mounting his horse, he followed the Indian to the bottom of the hill. Kane had no idea if the man spoke English, and there was no time for him to ask the question that was plaguing him. Had the Indian girl ridden off and left him? Had she decided that he had been the one that had ordered the men to follow them?

  As they topped a hill, he saw her waiting for him and was overcome with relief. As he drew even with her, she urged her horse forward.

  After they had ridden for about an hour, Kane began to feel hunger pangs. He had eaten nothing since before sunrise, and he could tell from the position of the sun that it was now late afternoon.

  Maleaha slowed her horse to a walk and Kane slowed his mount to keep pace with her. His jaw tightened in anger. The Indian girl was still in command, and there was nothing he could say to her for fear she would refuse to lead him to Mangas.

  Maleaha reached into the leather bag that was strapped across the back of her saddle, removed something, and offered it to Kane.

  "We ate while you were asleep, major. We did not disturb you, thinking you needed the rest more than the food." It was said without accusation, but Kane still felt the sting of her words. She as much as implied he could not keep pace with her. Kane took the food she offered him, looking at it suspiciously, wondering what it was. He was hungry, but still he hesitated, having heard all kind of stories about what the Indians ate. It appeared to be some kind of meat between two slices of bread, but what kind of meat?

  "What is this?" he asked. He noticed the way she smiled at him as if she had read his thoughts and was amused by them.

  "In the language of my mother's people it is called macha haja.'"

  He raised the food to his mouth but again hesitated to bite into it. "What does that translate to?" he asked.

  Her laughter bubbled out as she enjoyed his discomfort. "It translates to roast beef and homemade bread, major," she told him as she kicked her horse in the flanks and shot forward, leaving him feeling foolish once more.

  Kane stared after her angrily. Ever since he had met her this morning, she had been making him appear a blundering fool, and he was beginning to resent her for it. He had half decided to throw the food away, but his good sense won over his anger. He had no doubt that if he did not eat the food it would only serve to amuse her further.

  They stopped just before sundown and made camp beside a small stream. Once again the Indian girl had taken charge by deciding where they would camp for the night. Apparently she was not going to consult him about anything, he thought angrily. As he unsaddled his horse he noticed she was taking care of her own horse. His first instinct was to help her. After all, even if she was an Indian, she was still a female, and females were supposed to be pampered, or so he had always been taught. He observed how easily she lifted the saddle and placed it on the ground. No, he would not help her. She did not deserve any consideration from him. If she wanted any help from him she could ask for it, or better still, let the two Indians help her.

  He unfastened his cinch as he spoke to her. "Apparently an Indian girl can take care of herself, not needing the help of a man, while the women of my acquaintance bring out the protective instincts in a man." His words sounded harsh, and Maleaha blinked, knowing he was trying to insult her. Why was he deliberately trying to hurt her?

  "How nice for you, major. It is always nice to feel useful, even if it is only unsaddling a lady's horse for her. How fortunate for the ladies of your acquaintance to have you to perform that menial task for them."

  As she turned her back to him, once again Kane felt he had come out the loser. She had made him feel petty and vindictive. Inside, his anger smoldered. One day he vowed, he would show that high and mighty little Indian baggage just how he felt about her. She was arrogant, smug, and the most irritating female he had ever encountered. Never had he met anyone who could cause him to lose his temper so quickly. All the women he had ever known had been only too willing to please him, and yet this mere girl seemed not to be aware of him as a man at all, and she definitely did not try to please him. She was beautiful all right, there was no denying that, but he would never be drawn to her. She was too headstrong, too obstinate for his taste. Kane hobbled his horse and went down to the stream to wash his face. The water was cool and sweet, and he cupped his hands and took a deep drink.

  They were camped at the edge of a pine forest and Kane could smell the pungent odor of the pine trees. Looking about him, he thought what a beautiful spot this was. He had not heard the Indian girl come up beside him until she bent over and filled what appeared to be a coffee pot with water from the stream.

  "Do Indians drink coffee? he asked, tongue in cheek.

  Green eyes spit fire as she quickly stood up, sloshing water over the tip of the coffee pot. "Oh, for certain, major, but usually we prefer firewater, whenever we can obtain it from some unscrupulous white man."

  Kane cursed under his breath as he watched her walk away from him. Damn, he was always saying the wrong thing to her. He could see himself as she must see him, self-appointed bigot. There didn't seem to be anything he could do to correct that impression.

  He stood up and walked farther upstream, with the intention of bathing. It was almost dark when he returned to camp. He could smell the aroma of bacon cooking and was reminded how hungry he was. The roast beef the Indian girl had given him earlier had been very good, but that had been a long time ago. His stomach was telling him it was time to eat again.

  The Indian girl looked up at him as she removed several slices of bacon from an iron skillet.

  "Major, you are welcome to eat with us if you would like. I am aware of the kind of food the army provides for its men when they are on patrol. It is none too appetizing, is it?"

  He sat down and crossed his long legs. "I would appreciate it if you would share your food with me. You were right when you said army chow is not too good."

  Maleaha handed him a tin plate and he ate with relish. Then he enjoyed two cups of coffee before he leaned back against his saddle to rest.

  "How is it that you know about army food?" he asked.

  "I am acquainted with several soldiers from the fort, major. At least I was two years ago."

  He stared at her for a moment, wondering just how close she had been with some of those soldiers. He was aware that many of the soldiers were on very intimate terms with some of the Indian women who came to the fort looking to trade their favors for food and blankets.

  ' 'Just how well did you know the soldiers? You should not have needed either food or blankets, being the daughter of Jonas Deveraux. I can only assume you sought the soldiers out for your own pleasure," he said, wondering why the thought was so distasteful to him.

  He heard her gasp and looked quickly into her face.

  Maleaha tried to speak, but no words would come from her mouth. Anger and hurt battled inside of her, each wanting to be the dominating emotion.

  Lamas looked at her, seeing her expression, and, knowing the insult she had just received from the white man, spoke angrily. "Say the word, Maleaha, and I will carve the heart from the white dog. No one speaks to Jonas Deveraux's daughter so insultingly and lives," he said as his hand went to the knife at his waist. He had spoken to her in Jojoba and she answered him in kind.

  "No, it is not important. When this mission is completed, then I will deal with this man in my own way." Maleaha could never remember a time when she had been so angry and hurt. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes. No, she would not cry, she told herself. She was too proud to let this hateful man see her in tears.

  Kane saw the different emotions that played across her beautiful face. He heard the Indian man's soft voice and saw him reach for the hilt of his knife. God, he thought, what was it about the Indian girl that brought out the worst in him? He knew he had made a grave
mistake, but saw no way to make amends.

  "Major," she said in a deadly calm voice. "Today you are a fortunate man, because you are still alive. No one has ever dared to speak to me in such a manner before. I have taken into consideration that you are a foolish and pompous man. You and I have an important mission to fulfill, but once the mission is completed, you are never to approach me or speak to me, for if you do, you shall surely die."

  Her words had been delivered quietly and without emotion, but the threat was obvious. He had not meant to insult her. Many of the soldiers at the fort traded pretty trinkets, blankets, and food, to the Indian women for their favors, and everyone knew it. Perhaps he had been wrong to call attention to it. The Indians didn't seem to live by the same moral code as the white man did. He watched as she cleaned the pan she had used to fry the bacon in. He was sorry if he had insulted her. It could be that she had been taught differently from the other Indians. Yes, that must be it. Since her father was a white man, maybe she had been brought up more as a white girl. He decided it would be best to let the matter drop.

  "How do I address you? You never did tell me your name," he asked, thinking to change the subject.

  She stood up and gave him a cold glare. "You were introduced to me, have you forgotten? You may call me Miss Deveraux."

  He smiled, "But surely you have a first name."

  She was thoughtful while she added more wood to the fire, then, standing up straight, she turned to face him, and Kane could see the reflection of the campfire in her green eyes. It looked for a moment as if her eyes were on fire.

  "I have a name, like everyone else, but only my friends are allowed to use it. You, major, are not my friend," she said icily.

  Kane shifted uncomfortably. "Miss Deveraux, I would like to apologize to you for my bad manners. The only defense I have is that I have never talked to an Indian girl before. I don't really know how to treat you."

  "Oh, are there separate rules, major? Should you treat an Indian girl any differently from the way you would treat a white girl? The more I come to know you, the less I like you."

  Kane folded his arms behind him and lay back on his bedroll. "I doubt that I shall lose much sleep over not being in your good graces, Miss Deveraux. From the moment I met you I have made one blunder after another. If you are an example of what an Indian girl is like, I can well live without them," he said lazily.

  Maleaha clenched her hands tightly together, seething on the inside. "I doubt that any of my race would ever live with you, major," she said turning her back on him and walking away.

  Kane closed his eyes, and listened to the sounds coming from the forest. The wind made such a lonesome sound as it blew through the tall pine trees. He heard the call of some kind of bird he was unfamiliar with, and far off in the distance a coyote howled. There was a cool breeze blowing, and Kane felt himself beginning to relax.

  Opening his eyes lazily, he saw that Miss Deveraux had bedded down on the other side of the campfire. What a strange girl she was. She could ride like the wind. She had a kind of quiet beauty about her. She was soft-spoken. Even when she was angry she never raised her voice. He had yet to see her smile, but he imagined her smile would light up her green eyes. He watched as the two old Indian men lay down on a blanket on either side of her. They must think they needed to protect her from him, he supposed. He smiled to himself. She was safe enough from him. He had to admit grudgingly, that he admired her spirit, but his taste in women ran to the more feminine kind. He liked women dressed in silks and satins, though she was rather appealing in her soft buckskins. Kane liked his women to be docile; he liked to feel superior to them in some ways. But she was intelligent, and nothing about her was docile. He had always had a fascination for creamy white skin. Her skin was a golden color. He wondered if her whole body would be that same beautiful golden color, or just the parts that were exposed to the sun. He thought of how her hips moved gracefully as she walked. Her lips, so sensuous and inviting. Good Lord, he thought, turning over on his side. Obviously he had been out in the sun too long today. Closing his eyes, he tried to fall asleep so he could block out the Indian girl, whom he did not even like very well.

  Maleaha lay on her back, gazing at the moon that was barely visible through the tall pine trees. She felt crushed. How was it possible for that man to have the power to hurt her so deeply? He seemed to think she was some kind of wild savage with no morals and no feelings. If the major had a sister Maleaha doubted that she had been brought up much differently from herself. She had attended Mass every Sunday, gone on picnics, danced at balls, and had been well educated. The only difference might be that she was half-Indian, and had spent some time with her mother's people. True, she rode astride like a man, but that was more because of her father's indulgence than the fact that she was half-Indian. New Mexico was very different from the United States; most of her friends also rode astride, and here no one thought the less of them for it.

  For some reason it seemed to displease the major that she could unsaddle her own horse. It would never occur to her to have a man perform that duty for her. Her father had taught her to care for her horse, and she never expected anyone else to help her. She had always curried and groomed her own horse. She was not, nor would she ever be, a helpless female, a fact that her father took great pride in.

  Maleaha tried to shut her mind off and go to sleep, but found it impossible. Was the major bothered by the fact that she was half-Indian? She had never come up against anyone who resented her because her mother was Indian. It was a new and devastating experience. Today was the first time she had run into prejudice in any form, and she found that it wounded her deeply. Today she realized for the first time what her mother had been forced to live with. She didn't know why it should matter to her what the major thought of her, but it did matter. It mattered a great deal.

  Perhaps if she had acted like some mindless, helpless female, he would have treated her quite differently. Or would he? No, it was the fact that she was part Indian that he resented. Well, she could not change who she was, and even if she could, she would not want to. She had always been taught to be proud of who she was. Perhaps it was her pride that the major resented. Did he expect her to lower her head and act as if she were inferior to him?

  She closed her eyes tightly. Oh, Mother, she thought, what you must have suffered for loving my father. I have suffered only one day of prejudice, and you had to live with it every day as my father's wife.

  With a troubled frown on her face, Maleaha finally fell asleep.

  4

  The next morning Kane awoke to the smell of coffee brewing and bacon frying. He was a light sleeper, and yet he had not heard the Indians moving about, watering the horses and cooking breakfast over the open campfire. He felt the hard ground beneath him, and as he stood up and looked around he saw no sign of the girl. One of the Indian men was tending to the bacon that was sizzling in the skillet. His dark eyes moved over Kane with a look that plainly dismissed him.

  Kane removed his shaving kit from his saddlebag and made his way downstream. By the time he returned, the girl was dishing up the bacon onto a tin plate. Her black hair was wet, giving evidence that she had bathed in the stream as he had. She handed him the plate without a word, then made her way to the stream to clean the pan. Kane poured himself some coffee from the pot, and the Indian man emptied the grounds onto the fire and followed the girl to the stream with the empty pot.

  Kane ate the food hungrily, and when he finished he downed the last of his coffee. Making his way to the stream, he bent down by the girl to wash his tin plate and coffee cup. The girl did not acknowledge his presence, and Kane felt irritated.

  "When do we reach Mangas's camp?" he asked gruffly, unable to hide his irritation.

  "We will be there in three days' time, major. If I were to take you directly to his village, we could make it in two days."

  "What do you mean by that?"

  "What I mean is, I shall take you the long way around, so
you cannot later lead the army to the Jojoba village."

  Anger stirred within Kane once more. Miss Deveraux seemed to provoke him beyond endurance.

  Maleaha smiled to herself. She knew she had made him angry, and for some reason it gave her pleasure.

  Kane stood up, "and with his great height he seemed to tower over her. "I am surprised you have not blindfolded me, Miss Deveraux. That way you could be certain I would not see where we are going," he said acidly.

  "Oh, that comes later, major. Never fear. I would not take you into the Jojoba village without first blindfolding you." Her eyes seem to gleam mischievously, and Kane watched her, too dumbfounded to reply. He watched silently as she walked away from him, noticing the gentle sway of her hips and the way her hair gleamed in the morning sunlight.

  They rode silently all morning. Around noon, Kane called for a halt. He would have some say in this mission, he decided. He expected the Indian girl to question his authority, but she said nothing as she dismounted and walked beside her horse.

  Late in the afternoon, Kane decided where they would set up camp for the night and was again surprised when the girl voiced no objections. They had been riding hard all day and by now were deep within the mountains.