White Heart, Lakota Spirit

by Ginger Simpson

  * * * *

  Fawn’s fingers had just thawed from her outdoor adventure when she stepped out into the frigid air again. The fire beckoned her back inside, but she had promised Green Eyes she would join her for a quilling lesson today. As she passed their lopsided snow brave, Fawn laughed aloud. Complete with a war bonnet of turkey feathers and a red winterberry smile, the warrior they’d built was quite a work of art. The recollection of the fun she, Little Elk, and the children had shared brought a feeling of delicious warmth to her chilled body. As evidenced by the number of other snow people that had cropped up around the village, she knew she had started something new.

  Chapter Eleven

  Fawn pulled her mantle over her nose and hurried toward the warmth of Little Elk’s lodge. Frigid air stung her forehead and sent vapors of her breath floating in the air. Once inside, she stood shivering by the fire and waited for the chill to subside. Thoughts of being wrapped in his sun-kissed arms presented an appealing image of warmth, but she shook the vision out of her head. How could she ever see him as anything more than her captor?

  She eyed the waning flames and reluctantly removed her bulky coat. After setting aside the simmering pot of venison stew, she added another log and winced when the rough wood rubbed against fingers sore from quilling. The task was so easy for Green Eyes. All of her finished products were beautiful, but Fawn created more holes in her skin than in the soft doeskin she decorated.

  Heat from the growing fire encompassed her. She hunkered close and gazed at the orange and red flames, still massaging her fingertips. Maybe tomorrow she’d get the knack of quilling and stop hurting herself. A cold blast of air drew her attention to the door.

  Little Elk, dressed in buckskin leggings and a heavy buffalo coat, lumbered through the flap. He stamped his feet, scattering the snowflakes that clung to his knee-high moccasins through the air. Until she recognized his footwear, she thought someone had intruded on her privacy. All fear faded when he pushed back his hood. There was no mistaking his handsome face for anyone else’s.

  He cast a smile in her direction. “Hau.”

  “I bet you’re freezing.” She gestured to the crackling logs. “Come warm yourself.”

  Shedding his outerwear allowed his ebony hair to fall free. He wore only a vest beneath his coat, and although she wondered how he stayed warm, words constricted in her throat and prevented her from asking. The fire reflected in his shiny mane, and even the snow outside was no match for the brightness of his smile.

  Fawn swallowed hard and turned her attention back to the kettle. While she stirred the stew, her gaze wandered back to the clinging fit of his leggings. She closed her eyes and willed herself not to stare, but something kept tugging her thoughts back to his muscular frame. Sweat beaded her brow as a strange warming sensation surged through her body; the core of heat blossomed in the junction between her thighs. What was wrong with her? One of the fevers she’d heard Rain Woman discuss when they searched for herbs? Fawn swiped her furrowed forehead with the back of her hand and fidgeted against her discomfort.

  Leaping flames and sizzling sounds drew her attention back to the pot. She stirred so briskly, the contents splashed out into the fire. She took a deep, calming breath. “Dinner is almost ready.”

  He came and spread his palms above the flames. “The smell makes my stomach cry to be fed.”

  She chuckled at his halting speech, although his English was far better than her Lakota. “You mean your stomach is growling?”

  “Growling? Like a mato?”

  “Yes, like a growling bear.” She placed a bowl of steaming stew in his hands, grinning at having remembered mato’s meaning. “Here, feed your crying stomach.”

  * * * *

  Fawn sat by the fire and waited. She thrummed her fingers on her thigh. Winter weather kept her and the other women prisoners inside their homes, and she hungered for company.

  Bundled against the cold, Little Elk and a few friends had left hours ago to hunt in a small valley below the encampment. He hunted almost daily to supplement the dwindling food supply, but the sun would soon set, and his meager dinner warmed on the edge of the fire.

  Her bottom numbed from sitting. Shifting to a more comfortable position, she drew squiggles in the dirt along the edge of the buffalo fur that covered the floor. The wavy lines turned straight as she calculated how long she’d been with the Sioux. Her family began their journey with a small group of westbound wagons in late May. Sometime in July, her family left the train and found a plot of land and settled. It was only a few weeks later that….

  She shook the horrible image from her mind and resumed counting the months. By her estimation it was now December or very close to it. Four whole months had passed; although in some ways she almost believed she’d lived with the Sioux forever.

  Her mind returned to the day of her capture, still fresh in her mind, but she blocked the painful memories of her family’s death. Black Crow, the person she held solely responsible for their slaughter, no longer lived in the village. Everyone shunned him after Tribal Council determined he planned and instigated the raid. His foolish actions had dishonored and shamed him in the eyes of the tribe and jeopardized their safety. Such behavior was inexcusable.

  His mother woke one morning and discovered her son had packed his belongings and left. No longer would Fawn have to see Black Crow’s ugly, pockmarked face and angry eyes. His presence had always been a constant reminder of her loss, and his departure gave her a sense of peace. With each day’s passing, tucking away the painful memories became easier.

  “Ahem!”

  Fawn turned to see Little Elk standing behind her. She smiled up at him. “You certainly walk on silent feet.” She’d been so engrossed she didn’t hear him enter.

  “What is it that you draw?” He stared at the marks in the dirt while removing his parka.

  “I’m counting the days since I came to the village. I didn’t realize it had been so long.” She noticed he stood empty-handed and flashed him a sympathetic look. “Bad day to hunt?”

  “Not so, we slew many deer. Raven Feather took the kill to his wife’s lodge. She will prepare the meat for the communal storehouse.”

  “That’s good news. We need meat.” Fawn edged over to the fire pit and nudged the kettle back over the flames. “Dinner is ready. I used but a small piece of venison for flavor, so the stew is mostly wild onions and turnips, but at least it will warm your belly.”

  Little Elk sat against his willow backrest and eagerly reached for the bowl she offered. “I am starving. If it is only hot water, even that will sooth my gnawing hunger.”

  “It was too cold to bathe at the stream today.” Fawn made small talk while he ate. “I chipped through the ice and filled the skins then came back and warmed the water. I washed myself next to the fire. I could warm some water for you, if you like.”

  He held out his empty bowl. “More please.”

  “You must be awfully hungry. I tasted the stew earlier, and it barely had any flavor.” She smiled and handed him another steaming bowlful.

  “It tastes good to me,” he said, taking his second helping. He quickly lapped up the contents then laid the bowl aside. With a smile on his face, he leaned back and patted his stomach. “Now I am satisfied and ready to wash my body. Warm the water, my woman.”

  * * * *

  Fawn picked up Little Elk’s quill brush and ran it through her long locks, pulling smooth the waves caused by braiding her hair. Although she sat with her back to Little Elk, she recognized the familiar rustling of his leggings. Within moments he’d be undressed and in bed. She allowed time for him to crawl between his blankets then glanced over her shoulder. “You must be very tired. You were gone a long time today.”

  “True, I am weary, and this buffalo fur feels good against my cold skin.” His mouth opened in a wide yawn.
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  Fawn put another log on the fire then slid into her own bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. The pleasant smell of burning wood lingered for a moment before spiraling up and out the smoke hole overhead. She tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position. Sleeping fully clothed remained her preference, despite Little Elk’s explanation that a thick animal pelt against bare skin generated more warmth. He might like sleeping naked, but she refused to shed her doeskin dress. Of course, she still enjoyed secretly admiring his nude form when he wasn’t looking. Her cheeks heated at the thought.

  The hungry flames chewed away at the wood, but sleep evaded her. Her gaze wandered to his masculine profile, outlined by the fire; his strong jaw, broad brow, and slightly bent nose. In sleep, his lips fluttered and synchronized with the rise and fall of his chest. Maybe not fighting with one’s clothing did make a difference. He found sleep quickly enough.

  Watching him sent bothersome thoughts racing through her mind. Why did she keep thinking about sleeping in the comfort of his arms…trying to imagine the taste of his lips, the feel of his hands exploring places only she touched in private. Why did she feel so empty inside?

  For a long while, she listened as his gentle snores blended with the soft crackling of the fire. She peered at his bare back and the muscles cording his exposed arm and felt like the waning flames of the fire roared to life below the surface of her skin. She kicked her blankets aside. Driven by the need to be held, she crawled to Little Elk’s mat. Crouching next to him, she traced the small scar just below his shoulder blade. His musky scent enticed her. Although his skin felt warm and inviting, her rational mind commanded her to move back to her own bed. How would she explain her actions if he woke?

  She reluctantly sat back on her heels and watched him sleep. The fire, now dim, allowed darkness to swallow his features. Cold air embraced her and peppered her skin with goose bumps. Chilled and forlorn, she dropped back to her hands and knees.

  In a flash, strong fingers locked around her wrist and held tight. He moved with the stealth of a cat, and she hadn’t even heard him roll over. The final flicker of fire reflected in his ebony eyes. His brow arched. “Why do you touch me so?”

  Her cheeks heated like a stone in the sunlight. She chewed her bottom lip. The explanation she considered appropriate lodged in her throat, choked off by her embarrassment.

  “Did you not hear me?” he asked.

  “I want to sleep next to you. My bed is cold and lonely.” Her bold admission spilled out of her mouth and shocked even her. She quivered in anticipation. Surely, he never suspected she would invite herself into his bed—she never intended to ask. When had she stopped considering him as the enemy?

  He propped himself on his elbow, opened his blankets then moved over. “Come, let me warm you.”

  Fawn slid in next to him, and he pulled the covers up over her. Warmth radiated from him and immediately chased away the chill. Although she couldn’t bring herself to glance at him, she sensed his gaze on her. His bare leg against her skin sent her pulse racing. She lay on her back, stared into the darkness, and mentally questioned her own actions. What had she been thinking? Now what?

  A sudden change of heart came over her. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I should go back to my own bed.”

  She started to get up, but he grasped her shoulder.

  “Don’t worry. I will not do anything you do not want me to do.”

  How could he know what she wanted him to do…or not do? She didn’t even know. Her mind raced. Sorting through all these strange emotions left her confused.

  “You’re safe with me,” he whispered, sending warm breath across her cheek.

  She released a pent up breath. “All right, I’ll stay.” The timbre of his voice and his hand caressing her arm made the decision easy. The tension in her shoulders abated.

  “Good. Sleep well, then.” Little Elk immediately turned over, adjusted the blankets and left her to stare at his back.

  Maybe he truly was a man of his word. She sighed and snuggled down under the covers, but still sleep wouldn’t claim her. After her vision adjusted to veiled moonlight, she stared through the opening at the top of the lodge for a long time and watched clouds drift in and out of trees.

  Her eyes grew heavy, and she tried to find a comfortable position by rolling from her side to her stomach and back again, and in one last attempt, turned and faced Little Elk’s back. The repetitive rhythm of his breathing seemed to suck her closer to his body. She inched closer and draped an arm across his waist. All her tossing and turning had hiked her dress up to her waist. The sensation of his bare skin against her own sent excitement shivering through her. She puzzled over her strange feelings. Why did she suddenly want to caress his body, and even more, why did she crave his touch?

  Chapter Twelve

  Pleasing warmth radiated from the arm Fawn draped over Little Elk, and her firm breasts jutted against his back. His manhood stiffened at her sudden brazen behavior. He rolled over and faced her. “Why do you tempt me, woman?”

  Fawn gazed into his eyes. Her slender throat vibrated with a hard swallow. “I-I’m not sure. Even I don’t understand my actions. All I know is that I want you to hold me…to kiss me.” She ducked her head beneath his chin, her body trembling.

  “Your behavior is normal,” he assured, “when you have feelings for the one you are with.”

  She pulled back and gazed at him. Confusion clouded her beautiful eyes, and he understood why. How could she possibly feel anything for him? His foolish actions had played a part in robbing her of her family. And, he hadn’t treated her very well in the beginning. Still, his body hungered for her.

  He struggled to restrain himself. “You are still very young and inexperienced. These feelings you have are new to you. Your eyes tell me you are frightened. Don’t be, you have nothing to fear.”

  Fawn’s body relaxed, but he held her at arm’s length and searched her face for any sign of hesitation. “Do you truly wish to stay in my bed?”

  “Yes.” Her voice quivered.

  He cupped her chin, tilted her face upward, and then brushed his mouth against hers. A simple kiss wasn’t enough. His tongue lapped at her lips, begging them to part and let him in. He wanted to taste her, to rip her clothing from her ripening body, and explore every crevice of her. His hardening organ was like a hungry bear waking from a winter sleep, but Little Elk remembered his promise and reined in his passion.

  Fawn opened her mouth and allowed his tongue to creep in and swirl with hers in a mating dance. A throaty moan slipped from deep within her and fueled his need to have her.

  After rolling her onto her back, he knelt beside her and untied the thongs that bound her dress. The material fell from her shoulders, exposing the crest of her bosom. He grasped the tunic and inched it down, baring her breasts, then sliding the doeskin over her hips, her thighs, and past her ankles. Her paleness glowed in the semi-darkness; her long hair splayed over the bedding. His gaze devoured her while his heart pounded like Lakota drums before a buffalo hunt.

  He stretched out beside her and explored her silky skin, rolling the tip of her breast between his finger and thumb. A delightful hardness replaced the soft pliant nipple. Fawn’s soft, whimpering sounds only heightened his desire, and his hand moved from the supple mounds down her flat stomach to her unexplored woman’s nest. He stroked the soft junction of curls then slipped his finger into her warm moistness.

  Fawn gasped then arched her hips against his hand.

  “I’ve never felt this way... never been with a man before,” she said breathlessly.

  To be her first lover was an honor. He intended to be a good teacher, but her increasing excitement made restraining his passion difficult. He withdrew his finger from her velvety crevice and straddled her, then framing her face with both hands, bent and delved into her warm and we
lcoming mouth.

  Her hips undulated against him with increasing urgency. Her fingernails dug into his back. He searched her face one more time, but saw only passion begging for release. Poised above her with his shaft hard and ready, he slipped inside her with ease.

  Pain from a first joining was to be expected, but her stifled cry against the back of her hand made him ache for her. He halted, still sheathed inside her. A tear trickled down her cheek, but she flashed a week smile and embraced him. No words were necessary. The look of desire in her eyes spoke for her.

  Fawn joined him in his movement, slowly at first then faster and faster until they developed the perfect rhythm. He rode her to the brink of ecstasy and pushed her over the edge.

  * * * *

  Fawn opened her eyes and peered across the fire pit at her empty sleeping mat. The events of last night flashed through her mind. Was Little Elk lying behind her? She hesitated for a moment before glancing over her shoulder. He was gone.

  The recollection of their intimacy made her feel as though she had betrayed the memory of her parents. In her heart, she didn’t hold him responsible, but should she? Everything had become so confusing. How could she have made love for the first time with someone all other whites considered an enemy? Could something that felt so right be wrong?

  She pushed aside the blankets and searched for her dress. The garment lay next to the fire pit where Little Elk had tossed it. She clutched the doeskin to her nude body and shook her head, still trying to make sense of her blurred thoughts. Had she really let Little Elk touch her…see her naked…make love to her? Or had it all been a dream?

  Despite her disbelief, the soreness between her legs offered proof. She’d sacrificed her maidenhood.

  Fawn stood and slipped the tunic over her head. The soft fabric cascaded across her skin, stoking memories of Little Elk’s caresses. Was what they shared normal? Shame and embarrassment enveloped her like a fog.