Savage Horizons

by Rosanne Bittner

  “Be still, old woman, or I will cast you out, and your belly will be empty.” He walked over and grasped Little Flower’s arm. “Come! I have promised you to the vehoe.”

  Little Flower sniffed and swallowed, tossing her head and looking defiantly at her father. “You do not have to pull me,” she told him proudly.

  The man let her go, stepping back in surprise. He jerked his head then, indicating that she should leave the hut.

  Little Flower walked out, her insides churning, her heart breaking over the fact that none of the normal customs had been followed. She had been won in a bet. There had been no courting, no romantic flute playing, no period of gift giving, and no one had bothered to ask if she wanted to marry the pale eyes. The vehoe stood before her, his eyes gleaming as he licked his lips again like a wolf. He handed a sack of corn and a strip of tobacco to White Bird, even though the Cheyenne had lost the bet, the gesture indicating he thought the little Cheyenne girl of great value.

  Time moved too swiftly then, and Little Flower began to feel she was living in a dream—or a nightmare. She was far from ready for the reality of a woman’s world, but it was crashing down around her, hitting her sharply with its stones of pain and fear. She had never heard of another Cheyenne woman marrying so quickly, out of force.

  Frenchy’s eyes moved over her hungrily, his whole body feeling hot and tingly at the thought of being the first to take the lovely woman-child. Her cries of pain would give him great pleasure. It had been a long time since he had been with a woman. Virgin or not, he wouldn’t bother going easy with this one. His mind whirled with so many pleasurable fantasies that he could barely think straight.

  White Bird pushed Little Flower closer to the vehoe, indicating that he gave her to Frenchy. Little Flower struggled not to turn her nose up at the white man’s smell. Frenchy grinned even more, his face red as a berry, his yellow teeth reminding Little Flower of the fangs of a wild animal. He turned to his pack mule and handed another bottle of the fiery water to White Bird, indicating that he wanted to give yet another gift in return for his wonderful prize. Then he reached inside the pocket of his soiled buckskin pants and took out the blue quill necklace he had won from Deer Man. He handed it to Little Flower, demonstrating before the others his kindness and generosity toward his new young wife. For a brief moment, Little Flower felt a ray of hope that the man might be kind to her after all. She clung tightly to the necklace, happy that at least she had it now and could give it back to Sweet Seed Woman if she wished.

  White Bird nodded his approval of Frenchy’s kindness. Frenchy grasped Little Flower’s arm firmly, pulling her toward the hut he had bribed some Cheyenne women into building for him in return for bright cloth and beads. He had enjoyed watching them, and wished he could bed some of them. But he had been cautious, not wanting to offend any of the men, because he wanted these savages for friends, not enemies. They could be a big help to him in the fur trade. Now he had won the prettiest girl in camp, fair and square. He did not have to worry about offending anyone. She was his wife.

  He shoved Little Flower into the hut, closing the heavy, bearskin flap after them. It was close and smelly inside, and Little Flower stared in terror as the man with the ugly pale eyes stumbled closer, himself full of fire water. He grasped her tunic and ripped it down and off her so that she was suddenly naked. She felt ashamed and terrified.

  Outside everyone else went back to their own affairs. It was done. Little Flower belonged to the French trapper and should feel honored to belong to a white man who had come from a distant, unknown land and brought such wondrous gifts.

  “We will demand to see her.” Many Bears sat arguing with his brother inside Deer Man’s hut. Sweet Seed Woman sat quietly, interlacing quills for a new necklace for Deer Man to replace the one he had lost to the pale eyes. Her heart still burned with irritation at Deer Man for gambling away her gift.

  “He is her husband,” Deer Man replied dejectedly. “We can make no demands.”

  “And she is our sister. For four days we have not seen her. Why? Why does he not let her come out? And where does she relieve herself? Inside the hut? I tell you something is wrong. To let him marry her was wrong. I told our father that. When he is not full of the firewater he knows this and is sad. And to relieve his sadness, he drinks more firewater. Now he does nothing but lie around uselessly, moaning about how he could have gotten more gifts for his daughter from Black Antelope and about how stingy the pale eyes has become. Father, will do nothing to help Little Flower. It is up to you and me, my brother.”

  Deer Man sighed. “I thought the vehoe would be more honorable. He brought us many gifts, things we have never seen before.”

  “He is full of tricks, and our sister did not want to go to him. I think she needs our help. I think we should go to their hut and demand to see Little Flower. Why does she not come out when he does? And even he comes out only to get wood and to give us a few beads for more meat. Since he took our sister he has not even shown us how to use the traps, as he promised. He is lazy and is living off our food. And he smells like a skunk.”

  Deer Man looked over at his wife, watching her work the quills with fingers again painful with sores. Sweet Seed Woman looked back at him. Inside the privacy of their hut, she was free to speak her mind without disgracing her husband.

  “I speak as a woman,” she told him softly. “A woman knows about a man by his eyes. I did not like that pale eyes. He is not kind. I think he is cruel to all people, not just his enemy. We owe him nothing, for he was not first adopted into the tribe. Nothing about his marriage to Little Flower was done according to custom, and the spirits will not be pleased until it is made right. I fear the spirits will punish White Bird for what he has done, perhaps punish all of us unless we help Little Flower.”

  Deer Man looked at Many Bears and nodded. “I agree. In the morning when he comes out to relieve himself and borrow more food, we will demand that he bring our sister out also, or let us go inside and see her.”

  “And if he refuses?”

  “We will get others to help us. He will be unable to refuse if he values his life.”

  Many Bears grinned and nodded. “Good. I am glad you agree.”

  Frenchy wiped grease from his mouth onto his soiled clothing, glancing over at Little Flower, who sat huddled in the corner of the hut wrapped in a bearskin. The days had cooled since that hot, terrible day she had been given to the pale eyes for a wife, but she was sure her heart was much colder than the coldest winter day—never had she known such revulsion and hatred.

  “Time to tie you up and make sure you don’t run off on me, bitch,” he grumbled.

  Little Flower knew by now what the words meant. She cringed further into the corner, wishing death would come to relieve her of the horrors of the pale eyes. He walked over to her, jerking her back to the bed and the stakes he had pounded into the dirt floor. He pushed her down, and the bearskin fell from her naked body. She shivered from the cold air, but he paid no heed. She had not been allowed to dress since the first night he had torn off her dress. Sometimes he forced the hated firewater down her throat to make her more submissive to his animalistic advances, but it did not work as he had hoped. It only made her struggle and fight him.

  “You lay still, girl,” he grumbled. “You get up and I’ll beat the hell out of you.” He grabbed a small spade and covered a hole he had dug for her to relieve herself.

  “You’re starting to stink,” he mumbled. “I suppose I’ll have to let you out of here eventually so you can wash. If you’d settle down and act like a good wife for Frenchy, he would trust you not to run away. Always I have to tie you. How many times must I get inside of you for you to understand that’s the way it is and you should enjoy it, hmm? Maybe Frenchy is not big enough for you. Maybe you would look for a nice, big Indian buck to take Frenchy’s place?”

  He jerked her arm up to a stake and she whimpered. “You wild Indian bitches are all whores, but Frenchy’s wife will not be one.”
He picked up a piece of rawhide and started to wrap it around the raw flesh of her wrists, stopped when he heard voices outside.

  “Frenchy!”

  The trapper recognized Many Bears’ voice. Little Flower also recognized it, and she wanted to cry out to her brother but dared not. Frenchy glared at her, motioning for her to be still. He got up and quickly left the hut. Little Flower could hear him greeting her brother jovially, as though they were great friends. She heard Many Bears demand to see her. He had to repeat it several times, and she knew that at first Frenchy did not understand what Many Bears was saying. Then she heard Deer Man’s voice as well, and her heart quickened with hope. She sat up and pulled the fur robe around herself, afraid someone would enter and find her naked.

  Tears welled in her eyes at the realization of how dirty and smelly she was. She did not have the pretty looking glass and she was glad, for she would not want to look at herself now. She felt ugly and bad, and her body screamed with pain from her husband’s continuous rapes and beatings. She had put up with the torture, for she did not want to shame her father. But she had shriveled down to bones in only five days, unable to eat because of her pain and unhappiness.

  She heard scuffles then, and shouting. Frenchy was yelling, obviously cursing, although she did not truly understand everything he said. The next thing she knew, Many Bears jerked back the entrance flap and stepped inside. Her eyes widened and she scooted back more. She could see the shock in her brother’s eyes, and his nose curled up at the smell.

  “What has he done to you?” Many Bears looked appalled. He stepped closer, and Little Flower turned away, hanging her head and weeping. Many Bears knelt behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Tell me, Little Flower. Deer Man and I are here to help you if you want it. You did not choose this man. You have the right to leave him.”

  “He would only come after me… kill me.”

  “Then we shall kill him first. It is easily done.”

  She covered her face. “I would not weep for him,” she whispered.

  Many Bears knew the meaning of the words. He had her permission to get rid of the pale eyes. “He violated the chastity rope,” he said quietly, his words more a statement than a question.

  Little Flower nodded. “He ties me… beats me. If I could I would run away.” She wiped at her eyes, smearing the dirt on her face. “He uses me … like a dog. And he makes me drink the fiery water. If I cannot be free of him soon, Many Bears, I will put a knife into my heart.”

  She bent over and wept harder, and part of the blanket fell away to reveal large welts on her thighs. Many Bears’ anger knew no bounds as he also noticed the raw flesh on her ankles and wrists. He touched her hair gently.

  “Our father will know what he has done and be ashamed. I, too, am ashamed. Today this husband of yours has seen his last sunrise. He will never again touch you, Little Flower.”

  His jaw tense with burning anger, he stalked out of the hut. Little Flower heard more cursing and shouting from the pale eyes. She could hear scuffling feet and struggling sounds, and then awful screams. She knew the Cheyenne men were using their knives and tomahawks on the vehoe, and his screams of pain and terror made her glad. Soon he no longer cried out, and after several minutes Old Grandmother appeared inside the doorway. The old woman looked around the hut and cursed, holding up her fist, then came over to Little Flower and enveloped the girl in her arms.

  “Come, child. Come home.”

  “He is…dead?”

  “Ai, granddaughter. That bad one is dead and will not hurt you again.”

  Little Flower wept. “I will not … mourn him,” she sobbed. “Forgive me, Grandmother.”

  “There is nothing to forgive.” The old woman stroked her hair gently. “It is White Bird who needs forgiving, for he greatly wronged his daughter. He knows he did a bad thing. You will not go to another man unless it is someone of your own choosing. I will chase out your father and starve to death before I let you go again unwillingly. May Maheo strike me dead if I do not keep this promise.”

  Chapter

  Two

  THE magnificent Sioux warrior rode proudly into White Bird’s camp, carrying several blankets. Other braves walked behind him, carrying food and more gifts. Horses were still new to the Indian and not easily come by, but Black Antelope had stolen his from a camp of Red Coat soldiers farther north. His entrance on the animal made him appear even more grand and brave and handsome than usual. He led another horse alongside his own, and black flies buzzed mercilessly around them, despite the animals’ swishing tails.

  Black Antelope’s dark skin glistened with sweat from the unusually hot, humid October day. The weather had again slyly turned warm, giving no hint of the cold winter to come. In spite of the heat, Black Antelope appeared clean and neat, his long hair plaited into two braids intertwined with colorful feathers, as well as three coup feathers at the base of one braid. A string of tiny bells with colorful scarves hanging from them was tied around each of his legs just below the knees. Other than that, he wore only a loincloth and a deerskin vest, with several strings of brilliant beads decorating his chest and a copper band around the bicep of each arm.

  Black Antelope’s grand entrance brought stares from the Cheyenne women, especially the available ones. They whispered and giggled as the man rode through camp, with dogs barking at the heels of the horses. He went directly to see White Bird, who came out from his hut when he heard the commotion.

  Little Flower followed her father, curious about the noise. When her eyes met Black Antelope’s, she immediately looked away, remembering her brother’s words with White Bird about Black Antelope wanting her in marriage. She felt suddenly hot with shame, afraid of what Black Antelope would think of her for being the woman of the ugly white man. She ducked back inside the hut, putting her hands to her cheeks to cool them.

  “What is it, granddaughter?” Old Grandmother asked, noticing the girl’s distress.

  Little Flower sat down and returned to mending a pair of her father’s moccasins. “It is Black Antelope.”

  The old woman’s eyebrows arched, and a sly grin spread across her thin lips. “Ai? Has he come with horses and looking grand?”

  Little Flower did not look at her, but nodded.

  Old Grandmother chuckled. “I think Many Bears sent runners to Black Antelope some days ago. I think maybe Black Antelope was told about you and that bad white man. And I think Black Antelope is very angry with White Bird.”

  Little Flower frowned and looked at her grandmother. “Why?”

  The old woman winked. “You do not know?”

  Little Flower looked back at the moccasins, surprised that after her horrible experience with the pale eyes she should feel such a strange, wondrous movement deep in her body for the grand warrior who had just ridden into her father’s village. She had seen Black Antelope before, had stared in awe at the accomplished Sioux warrior many talked about. But she hadn’t known then the man had a desire for her. Now that she knew, and was aware of man, her emotions were mixed. Being Black Antelope’s woman would be a great honor, and instinctively she knew he would be nothing like Frenchy. Yet the thought of being with any man that way now struck fear in her heart, a fear mixed with odd desires for Black Antelope that surprised her.

  “What brings you to my camp on this hot day?” she heard White Bird asking just outside.

  “You know what brings me,” Black Antelope replied in a deep, commanding voice. “Little Flower was to be mine, and you gambled her away to a dirty white man who was cruel to her. I have come for her, White Bird. I do not ask for her—I tell you. You can no longer deny me.” There was a moment of silence before he continued. “I have brought you a horse. With this horse and the horse and mule you kept from the pale eyes, you are a wealthy Cheyenne. Horses can carry heavy loads and relieve you of work. I also have blankets. I give you these things not because I beg for Little Flower. After what you have done, I no longer have to beg. I give them because I show you
how much I value your daughter… more, I think, than you do.”

  Little Flower’s eyes filled with tears, and her heart filled with the warmth of love.

  “It is not up to me,” White Bird replied. “I and Old Grandmother have promised that she need not marry again unless it is her choice.”

  “Then let me stay here and camp nearby. I will visit her every day and we will talk so she can know me better. Then she can decide. But it must be soon. Winter will soon be upon us, and it is far to my village.”

  White Bird ducked inside and motioned for Little Flower to come out. She stared at him a moment before quickly standing, smoothing her tunic and running a quill brush through her hair. She put a hand to the handsome blue quill necklace which Deer Man and Sweet Seed Woman had allowed her to keep. It seemed too big for her frail neck, but she thought it so beautiful that she wore it all the time. She hoped at this moment it made her a little prettier than usual. Her father motioned for her to make haste, and she walked outside on shaking legs. Raising her eyes to meet Black Antelope’s, she felt sharp desires coursing through her at the gentleness she saw there, and at the power and grace she sensed in the man.

  “You heard what was said,” White Bird told her. “Do you wish for Black Antelope to stay so that you might consider him as a husband?”

  She took a deep breath, wondering if he would still want her after she told him what she must tell him—that she carried the white man’s baby. She walked closer to Black Antelope. She was a woman now, and she would behave as one, with courage and pride. She reached up. “Take me to another place, Black Antelope. There is something I must tell you.”

  He released the horses he had brought and reached down, grasping her hand. Something warm and wonderful moved through them both when they touched, and Black Antelope knew more than ever what he wanted. He leaned over and whisked her up onto his horse, setting her in front of him. Then he turned the animal and rode away from the village.