In the Shadow of the Mountains

by Rosanne Bittner

Susan was totally lost in a dizzy frenzy of love and desire and exquisite joy in realizing Chad Jacobs actually loved and wanted her. Irene had hurt him, turned him away. She was gone, had found a new love. Poor Chad was all alone and heartbroken. And oh, how she loved him!

  He left her mouth, licking and kissing at her cheek, her neck. “I don’t understand this,” he groaned. “I only know I want you, Susan. I only know the hurt will never go away until I can touch you.”

  He bent over more, forcing her head back, moving his face toward her breasts, flinging back her cape and kissing at the full, firm mounds through her dress. She grasped his thick hair, knocking off his hat, panting his name. He picked her up in his arms then, and she looked into his tear-filled eyes. “I love you, Susan,” he told her. “I love you, and it feels good to say it. This is right. I know it is. Somehow we’ll find a way to be together forever, but for now, all we have is this moment.”

  She touched his handsome face, wondered if any woman had ever known such ecstasy. She trusted in his words of love, for how many men actually wept out of their desire and devotion? “It’s all right,” she told him, her voice sounding far away.

  He searched her eyes. “Will you reach up there and untie the blanket from my horse?” he asked.

  Almost painful urges swept through her insides in great waves of ecstasy, and she obeyed. He carried her to the deserted cabin. She knew what he wanted, but was too young and innocent to understand completely what might happen. She was not afraid, for he loved her, and she loved him, and God meant for them to be together. Once inside the cabin he set her on her feet and spread out the blanket, then removed his jacket. “I’m so sorry, Susan. This isn’t a very good place.”

  “I don’t care,” she told him, removing her cape. She felt on fire, was oblivious to the chilly air. “Oh, Chad, I love you so much. I’ve dreamed of nothing but you for months. I can’t believe this is happening.”

  He came closer, unbuttoning the front of her dress. “Believe it,” he told her softly. “I want to look at you, Susan, touch you, taste you.” he whispered. He met her mouth again, reaching inside her dress to grasp at a soft, full breast, rubbing a thumb over the taut nipple. He felt her shudder, thinking how this was going to be almost too easy. He gently pushed her dress off one shoulder, exposing a breast, then left her mouth, bending her gently backward, urging her down to the blanket.

  His lips trailed down her throat to the ripe, pink nipple that ached to be tasted. He flicked at it with his tongue, making her cry out, then took the tip of her breast into his warm mouth.

  Susan Stanner needed no more persuasion. She was totally at his mercy, willing to submit to anything Chad Jacobs wanted and needed in order to soothe his broken heart and show him how much she loved him.

  For the first few weeks they met often and secretly at the abandoned cabin, a place that became special to Susan, one she often went to alone just to sit and think about Chad, about the special, passionate love they shared. In her mind, what she shared with Chad was not sinful. It was beautiful and right. Never had she known such ecstasy. Never had her heart soared to such heights. She could not think of their affair as sin, for soon, very soon, Chad would announce their love to everyone.

  She did not fully understand his reason for not being open about their love, but Chad was so intelligent, so worldly, that he surely knew best. Perhaps he was right that they should wait until Irene’s return. He wanted to break the news to Irene gently, to do this the respectful way.

  Susan didn’t care, as long as she knew Chad loved and wanted her. She even began planning with him times that they could meet secretly in his hotel room, where things were warmer and more comfortable, where she allowed him to do things to her she never dreamed a man could do to a woman. In his arms she was as brazen as a harlot, but she loved pleasing him, loved the way his gray eyes drank in her nakedness, loved the feel of him inside her, knowing she was pleasing her man.

  And what a man he was, with the body of a god, brawny shoulders and soft hairs on his chest, eyes and a smile that could melt the coldest heart. He seemed to know just the right ways to bring out feelings akin to pure lust in her, so that she had totally abandoned all teachings of right and wrong. Besides, how could it be wrong to want to please the man that she loved, the man she intended to marry? She loved him totally, physically, emotionally, spiritually.

  The reality of their trysts did not set in with her until she finally slowed her dizzying passion long enough to realize she had missed a period, then two, then three. She knew what missing periods meant, and her reaction was a mixture of terror and great joy. It was a disgrace to be pregnant and unmarried, yet this was Chad’s baby she was carrying. It certainly wasn’t his fault this had happened too soon, or hers, for that matter. It had just happened, and now Chad would simply have to decide what he was going to do about Irene.

  There was no time now to wait for her return. Two more weeks passed, during which she hesitated telling Chad her suspicions, afraid she would disappoint him by being ignorant of ways to keep from getting pregnant. She was sure there must be ways. She just wasn’t sure what they were. She knew Chad would be happy and want the baby if they were already married, sure he did want to marry her. Her only fear was that he might feel pushed or tricked.

  No, not Chad. He loved her. He would understand he had to do the right thing, that he could no longer wait for Irene. She met him in his room as planned again, deciding to say nothing until he was through making love to her. She didn’t want to spoil anything by telling him first. She gave herself to him in total abandon, arching up to him in an effort to take him deep, to please him the way a whore might, for she never wanted him to go to that kind of women. He touched, kissed, tasted every part of her, brought the shuddering climaxes that left her feeling weak and spent. She felt sorry for all other women who would never know this kind of love and passion, would never know what it was like to be touched by Chad Jacobs.

  Chad looked at the clock then and moved off her, sitting naked on the edge of the bed and lighting a thin cigar. “It’s time for you to leave.” He turned to look at her, touching her face. “We won’t have to meet this way much longer, Susan.”

  She turned away, rising and walking to the bowl and pitcher on his wash table and washing herself, not caring that he watched. She pulled on her drawers and her camisole, then came to sit down beside him in her underwear. She swallowed hard for courage. “I need to tell you something, Chad.” She looked at him, studying the handsome face, the gentle gray eyes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but we’re going to be married anyway, so it isn’t the end of the world.”

  He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  She looked at her lap. “I think I’m pregnant. I mean…I’m sure of it.”

  His blood chilled, and he scrambled to think. He had planned simply to drop her when Irene returned, to express complete ignorance of any relationship with her. If she should go into fits and tell her parents, he planned to accuse her of fantasizing and wishful thinking. After all, who would believe the love-struck child of a poor minister over a prominent attorney, the kind of man who wouldn’t think of having anything to do with a plain, unrefined thing like Susan Stanner?

  He cleared his throat. “How long has it been?”

  “Over three months.” She toyed with the lace on her drawers. “This morning I felt movement.” She looked at him with pleading eyes. “He’s ours, Chad. Our baby. We have to tell my parents now.”

  He nodded. “Yes, I suppose.” He rose, telling himself to stay calm. He couldn’t just turn her away this moment. She might feel desperate and create a scene. People might come running, see her in his room or leaving it. As long as no one saw, there was no one to corroborate her story of …affair with him. He could say she pestered him, that she hounded and annoyed him, that perhaps she had turned to some other man just for spite, to try to make him jealous. He could drag her name through the mud, and people would believe it. Even
Bea would believe it. He could do no wrong in her eyes. He loved her daughter. She would never believe he would have an affair with the young daughter of a minister. Not Chad Jacobs!

  He came back over to her, touching her shoulders. “You get dressed and go home for now. Give me a day or two to think about this, Susan. I’ll need to talk to Mrs. Kirkland, write to Irene.”

  She smiled. “I knew it would be all right.” She hugged him. “I love you, Chad. I’ll go home and wait for you.” She pulled away. “You can come there, sit down with my parents, and tell them you love me and want to marry me. We don’t even need to tell them about the baby until after we’re married. They’ll forgive us, because we’ll already be married.”

  He nodded, kissing her lightly. “Sure they will. You get going now, and remember, don’t say a word to your parents until I come. I don’t want you handling it alone. It’s my place to tell them. Promise?”

  “I promise.” She hugged him again. “Oh, I’m so relieved, Chad. I was afraid you’d be angry.”

  “I’m not angry. I’m happy,” he told her, pulling away and urging her to her feet. “Hurry now. I have to get back to the office.”

  He pulled on his long johns while she finished dressing. She brushed her hair and pinned it, then put on her hat and cape. It was nearly the end of March, and a chinook wind had brought a gentle warmth to the plains. It was spring, and Susan’s heart filled with love and joy. She was going to be Chad’s wife, have his baby. She came over to him and hugged him once more, gave him a hungry kiss, then went to the door and checked to be sure no one was about before leaving.

  Chad pulled on his pants, then walked to a window and looked down to watch Susan cross the street. “Good-bye, little Susan,” he muttered. “I enjoyed it while it lasted.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Seventeen-year-old Yellow Eagle stood watching the tribal priest pierce the flesh of his friends who were taking part in the sun dance. None of them cried out as skewers were placed through their breasts, the calves of their legs, the backs of their shoulders. Some already looked close to passing out, trembling and sweating, but they forced themselves to stand, for to give in to the pain too soon was a disgrace.

  Strings of rawhide were tied from the skewers to the top of the central pole of the sun dance lodge. To show their bravery, the young warriors were expected to lean away from the central pole as they walked around it, so that the skewers pulled at their flesh until finally the skin gave way. Heavy buffalo skulls were tied to the skewers at their calves, so that when they began walking in their agonizing circle, they dragged the weight with them.

  It was Yellow Eagle’s turn next. He held the bone whistle tightly between his lips, ready to blow on it when the pain came. His uncle Fast Runner had made the whistle for him to use during the ceremony so that he would not cry out.

  “When the pain is bad,” his uncle had told him, “breathe deeply and blow hard on the whistle. It will help.”

  This was the Cheyenne test of manhood, and his own sacrifice to the Great Spirit. He must suffer, have his vision, learn what animal’s spirit would guide him through life. He must find his strength, test his courage, for not only was he ready to ride as a warrior, but he had something to prove to himself and to those who doubted his right to be here, just because he carried white blood and had blue eyes.

  He closed his eyes, forcing himself to think of other things when the priest shoved the first skewer through his breast. His legs felt weak from several days of fasting. He concentrated on how he hated the white eyes, hated the white blood that ran in his veins. He could not help his heritage, but he most certainly could prove now that he was all Cheyenne in spirit. When he rode with the other warriors, the whites who were stealing more and more game and land would suffer the wrath of the northern Cheyenne and the Sioux. The southern Cheyenne had grown weak. They no longer fought for what was rightfully theirs. That was why he had left his mother and her husband and his three half brothers on the reservation in the south and had come here to the Black Hills, to join Red Cloud and others who were still willing to fight.

  The second skewer was placed, and Yellow Eagle concentrated on the mysterious white father he would never know. His feelings about the man called David Kirkland were mixed. His mother had no idea what had ever happened to the man or to Yellow Eagle’s twin sister, who, if she was still alive, lived among the whites.

  “You did not look exactly alike,” his mother had told him. “You were darker. Your hair is not black like the Cheyenne, but it is much darker than was Morning Star’s. As a baby her hair was almost white. But your eyes—your eyes are the same.”

  Yellow Eagle stood taller and broader than his red brothers, thanks to his white father’s build. His mother had told him David Kirkland had been a big man, a good man, in spite of being a Wasicus.

  Yellow Eagle was aware that the young Sioux and Cheyenne women found him exceedingly attractive, and there was one in particular he was hoping to impress today—a young Sioux girl named Dancing Waters. She was watching. She would be proud when she saw that he did not cry out or even flinch.

  A skewer pierced his shoulder, and he concentrated on trying to imagine what his sister might look like today, what kind of life she might lead. Did she even know she had Indian blood?

  Drums beat rhythmically and women chanted as the last skewer was placed and tied. Yellow Eagle blew hard on the whistle as he began walking in a circle around the central ceremonial pole inside the huge tipi erected specifically for the celebration. The sacred ritual was being held early this season so that the young warriors would be prepared for a summer of warfare against the white settlers. Many had already left the plains in fear. With most of the bluecoats gone fighting a war in the East, the Indians had enjoyed much more freedom, and Red Cloud had practically shut down the road to the white man’s gold fields in the north. There was more to be done, and Yellow Eagle planned to be a part of ridding sacred Indian lands of the hated white eyes.

  It was not long before two of the other young warriors collapsed, the skewers tearing their skin as they fell. Yellow Eagle kept going, determined to be the last to fall, determined to prove that having white blood did not make him any weaker than the others. More than that, he wanted to show Dancing Waters what a strong, brave man he was. He would take many scalps, steal many horses, once he rode the warpath. One way or another he would win her hand and marry her, for many young braves yearned for the pretty Dancing Waters, and he was not about to let any of them own her. One day she would belong only to Yellow Eagle, but her father would never allow it unless he proved his manhood now at the Sun Dance.

  Dancing Waters watched the half-breed Yellow Eagle. There was not a young warrior more handsome in all of the Sioux and Northern Cheyenne tribes. What intrigued her the most was his blue eyes. Against his sun-darkened skin they seemed even bluer than the sky, and she dreamed of the time when he would make her his wife and lie naked next to her. Her blood ran hot at the thought of it, and she watched proudly as all the others fell away. Only Yellow Eagle was left, and she wept at the sight of his blood, at knowing the pain he must be suffering.

  Finally he fell, but he had proven his worth. The half-breed Yellow Eagle would no longer be looked upon as half Wasicus. He was all Cheyenne now, a full-fledged warrior who would ride with his brothers against the whites. There would be no reservations for men like Yellow Eagle, and already Dancing Waters determined that where Yellow Eagle went, she would be at his side.

  Susan Stanner waited in the alley beside Kirkland Enterprises, her heart pounding with dread at what she did not want to believe might be true. She had waited faithfully at home, two days, three days, five days. Chad had not come as promised, had not spoken with her parents about marriage. When she had gone to his room to talk to him, he was not there. She was afraid to go to his office, afraid for some reason he would be angry she had shown up to meet him publicly. Surely there was some reason he had not spoken to her parents yet, and until she k
new for certain, she had to do as he had always told her and not be seen with him.

  She did not want to believe there could be any reason for his failure to contact her other than something that might have gone wrong with the Kirklands. After all, he loved her, and he knew how much she loved him, knew she was carrying his baby. Surely he would make a move soon, but yesterday in church, he had not once met her eyes. She could no longer bear the heartache. She missed him so much that she thought she might die. She longed to be in his arms again, longed to share his bed again, to stand beside him before a minister and vow her love for eternity.

  She peeked around the building again, finally seeing him exit onto the boardwalk. She waited until he passed the alley, then called out to him. Chad turned, looking irritated. At first she thought he was going to keep walking, but he looked around to be sure he was not seen, then hurried into the alley, carrying a briefcase. He came closer, and she felt almost sick at the strange look on his face.

  “What do you want, Susan?” he asked.

  She struggled to find her voice, her throat so tight she wondered how she managed to breathe. “I…my God, Chad, you know what I want. Where have you been? I’ve been waiting and waiting for you to come.”

  He frowned. “Come where?”

  Her eyes widened. “To the house! To talk to my parents about getting married!”

  He snickered, looking her over as though she were little more than dirt under his boots. “What the hell are you talking about? You know I’m to marry Irene Kirkland. Have you gone mad or something?”

  She began to tremble visibly. She reached out and touched his arm. “Chad…I…don’t understand. Please, don’t do this. We…love each other. I’m carrying your baby!”

  He stepped back. “You don’t get it, do you,” he said in almost a sneer. “There is nothing between us, Susan, and never has been. This is all some kind of fantasy of yours, and it has to stop. If you’ve gotten yourself in a bad way by hitching your skirts for some poor slob in a barn, that’s your problem. You’d better find a way to explain it to your parents. Just don’t drag me into it, or your name will be more muddied than the most notorious harlot of Denver, I can promise you that. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a poor, demented young thing who has pestered me to death with your confounded fantasies about loving me. Just stay away from me.”