Savage Horizons

by Rosanne Bittner

  He leaned down and lightly kissed each nipple, making her gasp and whimper his name, her cheeks turning crimson with a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure. He pulled her close, running a hand over her bare back and kissing her damp hair. “You are beautiful, Sarah,” he groaned. “I love you so. You are so brave… so good.”

  She leaned against him, realizing he could do anything to her and she would be loved and respected and would never have to be afraid. She belonged to him, and when the time was right, she would let him claim her. It felt so right to be in his arms, and she would let him take his pleasure in her when he wanted. She wanted to please him the way his Indian wife had.

  “We must get going,” he told her, pulling away and picking up the clean dress. He slipped it over her head. This one buttoned in front, and his big hands fumbled with the tiny buttons. “You should wear a tunic like the Indian women,” he told her. “They are lighter and cooler, and you have only to tie them at the shoulders.” He stopped at her breasts, then took her chin and lifted it, giving her a teasing smile. “Or untie them,” he added.

  She reddened but smiled, her heart aching at the bruises and cuts on his face, his shorn hair. Yet to her the injuries did nothing to detract from his handsomeness. “Caleb, I… I don’t want to wait.” She looked down. “I mean, I don’t want to wait till we find someone who will marry us. That could be days, even weeks. We might get caught. Who knows what will happen? I just, I want it to be with you, Caleb, the first time.”

  He brushed her breasts lightly with the backs of his hands, then continued buttoning the dress. “The time will be right soon, and it will not be wrong. For the Indian, when a man takes a virgin she is his, they are man and wife. It will be that way with us. Your God and mine—and who knows that they are not the same?—know of our love for each other and want us to be together. It is not bad for us to mate and be one and enjoy our love. No one, not even Terrence Sax, can change that love, Sarah—even if we are caught. In our own hearts we will be man and wife forever.”

  She raised her eyes and he leaned down to lightly kiss her lips. “Ne-mehotatse,” he whispered. “We must go,” he told her.

  She nodded and turned, getting back up on the horse. Caleb stood there a moment, sniffing the air, studying the shadows, his keen ears listening. To her he seemed as much a part of the forest as the birds and the rabbits, sometimes blending right in with the shadows and leaves in his buckskin clothing and dark skin.

  “So far no one follows,” he told her. “We will keep going well after dark before making camp.”

  They slept without a campfire that second night, wrapped in each other’s arms. Sarah felt achy but attributed it to the sudden change from the kind of life to which she had grown accustomed. She had not lived this ruggedly for many years, and she had also lost a lot of sleep. In the morning they ate meager strips of beef jerky before going on. By the third night they reached a refreshingly lovely place where the grass was thick and green, and a small waterfall spilled into a shallow stream that danced over rocks. The banks of the stream were littered with spring wildflowers, and not far away Caleb found a cave in the side of a rocky hill. He hurried back to Sarah, who was unloading the horse. His gait was faster now as his body was healing.

  “We will stay here and rest,” he told her. “This is a good place. There is a cave not far from here. We will make a fire there and sleep inside it.”

  “Oh, Caleb, do we dare stay here a day or two? I would love to stop for awhile,”

  He smiled, kissing her cheek. “So far I do not think anyone follows. We will stay. It is better to rest and be well to travel than to get sick and perhaps not be able to go on at all.” He took down her carpetbag. “Do you have soap and a towel in here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. You stay here and bathe in the stream and change your clothes again. You will feel much better. I will make you some moccasins so you can stop wearing those tight shoes. And I will try to get us something to eat. I will use my bow so that I make no noise.”

  He was off then, leading the Appaloosa up the hill. Sarah turned and began undressing, more aware now of her body than at any time in her life. Perhaps it would happen here, tonight or tomorrow, here where they could relax and eat and be alone together in the cave. She shivered at the chill of the stream, yet it felt good on her sweaty body. Again it seemed she was hot from the inside out, and it irritated her that perhaps she had taken cold. She did not want anything to happen to slow them down.

  She quickly bathed and washed her hair, then put on a clean dress and proceeded to wash the two dirty ones and hang them over limbs to dry, along with her bloomers and stockings. She set her shoes on a rock in the sun, laying her towel and the soap beside them, then hurried up the hill to where she saw the horse tied. Caleb was bent over cleaning two rabbits.

  “Oh, Caleb, they look wonderful. That didn’t take you very long.”

  “I caught sight of them earlier, running under that dead stump over there. I simply waited for them to come back out, but it was not easy to keep an eye on them, not when all I had to do was look the other way to see you lying naked in the stream.”

  “Caleb Sax! You weren’t supposed to look.”

  He laughed lightly. “That is a cruel request of a man who has not been with a woman in over two years and is now alone with one he loves—and one so beautiful.” He looked up at her, his expression serious. “Besides, you can always pay me back. I still have to bathe.”

  “I would never—”

  “Oh, yes you will,” he interrupted. “Maybe not today, but you will.” He stood up and laughed lightly again. “Here. You cook these over the fire I have started. I am going to take my turn in the stream, and later I will make you some moccasins out of an old buckskin shirt I have. We will sleep well tonight, Sarah, and with full bellies.” He raised his arms and threw back his head. “We have made it. We are free. Thank you, Maheo.”

  Sarah watched him, her love in her eyes. He was shirtless, and his ribs and back bore many bruises from the beating. Her heart ached at the thought of how horrible that day must have been for him. And standing there with arms upraised, he seemed to her the epitome of all she could ever want in a man. The shorn hair and bruised body could not detract from his beauty, and she felt the prickly desire to watch him undress at the stream. But when he walked off and began unlacing his buckskin leggings she looked away, tending to the rabbits.

  She watched the outer fat just under the skin begin to sizzle and drip, wiping her damp brow and wondering if she should tell Caleb how feverish she felt. No. He might become alarmed and stay longer for her sake. It was peaceful here, and no one seemed to be following, but they dared not stay too long. They must go on. She would be fine once she was rested and had eaten.

  Chapter

  Nineteen

  FOR that night and another day they did nothing but eat and sleep, and Sarah’s fever seemed to subside. She said nothing to Caleb about it and ignored the continued aching in her bones and muscles. It was enough to be safe. At least she had time to rest, and Caleb had time to heal. There was time to talk, to laugh, to share their deepest thoughts and fears and love. Neither of them wanted to ask if it could last. They must believe it would.

  The evening of the second night in the cave, Caleb came back from tending to the horse to find Sarah already snuggled under the robes of their bed. He laughed.

  “So, already you are becoming a lazy woman,” he teased. “If I had known I was marrying a woman who goes to sleep before supper I would have left you back in Saint Louis.” He put more wood on the campfire just outside the cave, then came inside, kneeling beside her. “Are you all right?”

  She smiled, moving one arm out from under the robes to reveal a bare shoulder. “I’m fine. Why don’t you come to bed, too, Caleb?” His smile faded, and her face turned crimson at her own boldness. She pushed the covers down to her waist, revealing naked breasts, and his eyes rested on them lovingly before meeting her provocative
green eyes.

  “Sarah, you don’t have to.”

  “Yes, I do. I want to,” she replied.

  She looked like a wide-eyed little girl and he felt almost guilty. But he reminded himself she was not truly related, and she was eighteen years old, in Indian terms well beyond the marrying age. She was a woman, but not completely. It was up to him to apply the finishing touches, and he loved her as dearly as his own life.

  Her eyes suddenly teared. “I’m scared, Caleb. Scared I’ll never have you this way again. Please… if you’re well enough. We can be married right here and now in God’s eyes. You said so.”

  He bent over and kissed a warm, pink cheek, thinking she must be flushed from her embarrassment and excitement. He never considered it could be anything else. “If you are sure,” he said softly.

  She was lost in his intense blue eyes. “I am.”

  He gently smoothed back the hair from her face. “Then we shall be one, Ishiomiists. That is my Indian name for you, Rising Sun. Like the sun you bring me new life.” His eyes teared. “When Walking Grass died, I also died. Now I am alive again because of you.”

  He stood up, removing his moccasins and leggings. He stood before her, a magnificent man. Even her virgin eyes knew that, and when he untied his loincloth and cast it aside all fear left her at the sight of his proud beauty. He was her Caleb. He would teach her, be patient with her. She decided that no matter how much it hurt, she would not be afraid or make him stop. She wanted nothing more than to give him pleasure.

  His eyes never left hers as he knelt again to move in beside her under the robes. She sighed when he pressed himself against her flat belly, then his mouth covered hers, and she gloried in the sensation of skin against skin. Caleb, magnificent, wild Caleb was hers, catching his fingers in her long, red-gold hair, pushing his tongue into her mouth enticingly so that she felt like a wanton woman. She was suddenly wicked and passionate, not sure what to do yet knowing he would bring it all out of her naturally, with the right words, the right touch, the right movements.

  He groaned with his own pleasure, his mouth leaving hers to trail over her throat. His hand massaged her back and bottom, moving around to touch that most private place never touched by a man, sending waves of ecstasy through secret places finally being awakened to womanly desires. His fingers moved in a circle, making her whimper and grasp his hair as his lips lingered on her taut nipples. He could feel the silken moistness that told him her womanly passions had been aroused and her virgin body was preparing for him.

  Sarah! At last he would have her, but he reminded himself to move carefully. He had been a long time without a woman. He wanted to devour her, invade her, explore every curve and claim every secret place for himself so that she would belong only to him. But he must not move too quickly or be too demanding this first time. Still, her own eager desire was as great as his. She seemed to respond with the same desperation he felt, and soon their heated bodies were damp from passion, and whimpers and whispered words of love were spoken breathlessly between kisses.

  He seemed to be everywhere, her mouth, her breasts, her stomach, her most private places, touching, tasting, ravaging in ways she never dreamed possible. But with Caleb it was all right and natural. She felt herself melting, being led along a road to ecstasy. He made her want to do everything, broke down her resistance, wiped away bashfulness and inhibitions. He touched and explored and possessed, seeing, claiming, changing her from girl to woman.

  His mouth trailed back to her own, lingering on different parts of her body until he met her lips again and his broad, beautiful frame moved up on top of her. He pushed with his knees to part her slender legs and move between them, and her heart pounded furiously with anticipation and apprehension.

  “Caleb?”

  He felt her trembling and nuzzled her neck. “Ho-shuh,” he said softly, moving gently, pressing his manliness against her. “Do not be afraid. It does not hurt for long.” He kept rubbing against her until she felt a wonderful explosion, and she arched up to him brazenly, her body pulsing with the most wonderful feeling she had ever known. He knew she was ready then, and it must be done quickly. He pushed deep. There was no other way.

  She gasped in surprise at the pain, and her nails dug into his arms. “Hang on, Ishiomiists” he whispered. “It will be over soon.” He grasped her hips and pushed, gasping himself at the ecstasy of the moment. He was one with Sarah, claiming her, loving her, branding her, taking her virginity. Now no one else could have it. It belonged to Caleb Sax.

  She screamed his name in a mixture of pain and ecstasy, and his life spilled into her in lingering surges. He finally breathed a long sigh and lay down beside her, pulling the blankets over them and holding her close. She was crying, and he kissed her hair.

  “I am sorry it has to be that way,” he told her. “It does not last. I hurried. You brought me so much pleasure, I could not hold back my life.” He kissed her over and over, caressing her and murmuring words of love. “I will bathe you and you will sleep,” he told her. He moved a big hand to her abdomen, massaging it gently. “It will be better next time. This is a promise.”

  She kissed his chest. “It was beautiful,” she whispered. “I just didn’t know it could hurt that much. But I don’t care, Caleb. I belong to you now. Nothing can change that, can it?’

  He kissed her eyes. “No. Nothing can change that. Ne-mehotatse, Ishiomiists.”

  “Ne-mehotatse,” she whispered.

  They fell asleep then, exhausted from the agony and ecstasy of newfound love.

  For two more days they stayed in the cave. It was against Caleb’s better judgment, yet it seem unlikely they would ever be found in this place. And to be with Sarah, to love her in all the ways humanly possible, was more temptation than he could fight. He couldn’t get enough of the woman he loved.

  Those were precious hours, precious days, and they both prayed they would not become just precious memories. Together they rose to glorious heights of ecstasy, explored, tasted, shared, enjoyed. Sarah cared little that she had left behind the luxuries of a rich girl. Being with Caleb was true wealth, loving and being loved, being a woman in every sense.

  But all too soon they both had to face the reality that they must leave. Someone might track them or stumble upon them. And there was little Tom to think of now. Caleb was more anxious than ever to get back to his son.

  “We’ll make it,” he told Sarah, kicking at the dying embers of the fire. He looked at her. She stood there watching him, then ran to him, crying. He swept her into his arms. “It will be all right,” he told her.

  “Oh, Caleb, I don’t want to leave. So much happened here. It’s—it’s like this place belongs only to us.”

  He held her tightly. “I know. Maybe some day we can come back, and we’ll be long married and bring our children with us. He squeezed her tightly. “I love you, Sarah. I’ve never loved another so much. I’d die to keep you with me.”

  She clung tightly to him while he kissed her hair, her cheek. She turned her face to meet his lips then, kissing him with all the knowledge of an awakened woman, glorying in the pleasant things he had taught her.

  “We must go,” he said, letting go of her. She met his eyes and saw that his, too, were watery. He forced a smile for her. His face was almost normal again, and she had grown accustomed to the short hair, which after much cajoling he had agreed to let her cut so that it looked like a normal haircut and would look nicer as it grew out.

  He led her reluctantly out of the cave, a place that had come to represent happiness and security. He helped her up onto the horse, then moved up behind her with ease. Everything about him was sleek and provocative, and she dearly loved the Indian in him, from the lovely Cheyenne words he whispered to her during their lovemaking to the scars he bore from the Sun Dance and the bravery it must have taken to participate.

  She turned and looked at him, and he grew somewhat alarmed at the circles under her eyes and the thin, pale look about her. He told himself
it was the hard journey and the traumatic events that had taken place in her life.

  “Do you feel well?” he asked, concern in his eyes.

  She looked away, a poor liar. “I’m fine. I’ve never felt more wonderful,” she said, pretending the awful ache in her lower back was better now.

  Caleb nudged the horse into motion and they rode away from the special place where Sarah Sax had become a woman. Neither of them looked back. It hurt too much.

  The next day the fever that had been trying to build in Sarah broke loose. She awoke in a sweat, throwing off her covers, but Caleb was immediately there putting them back over her.

  “You will take a worse chill,” he told her.

  He had been watching her all morning as he made them some breakfast. The heat from her body was so intense it had actually awakened him. Now he was filled with dread. Why hadn’t he seen the signs for what they were instead of avoiding the truth? She was sick, probably had been since she fell in the water the night they left. She had been trying to hide it.

  She opened glazed eyes, meeting his own. “I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?”

  He bent down and kissed her forehead. “No. It is I who have ruined everything. I never should have come back into your life, Sarah.” His eyes grew dark with worry. “What have I done? We are far from help and you are very sick.”

  “I’ll be all right,” she whispered, forcing a smile. “We have to keep going, Caleb.”

  He rose and looked around. “Sarah, we are miles from nowhere and going to a place where doctors are unheard of. I fear you need a doctor.”

  “No,” she protested. “You can take care of me. You must have some Indian remedy.”

  He desperately fought an urge to cry out. Why? The awful dread enveloped him again. Not Sarah! His mind whirled with indecision. Sometimes when Indian children had a fever their mothers immersed them in cool water to bring it down.