She watched him grow even larger within her hand, and she became in awe of the size of him all over again.
Trembling hands on her head urged her away from him. Allowing him to lead her in which way to make love again, she followed him to the bed, stretching out on her back on the soft pelts.
Sage moved over her, his hard, taut body and his smooth copper skin against hers. As their stomachs touched, and her breasts pressed into his powerful chest, she placed her fingers on the nape of his neck and brought his lips to hers.
Her stomach churned wildly as she became lost in the kiss and the wondrous way his manhood was so magnificently filling her after entering her with one insistent thrust.
Her whole body quivered as he began his rhythmic strokes within her and his kisses became more demanding, even savage.
She responded to the heated thrusting of his pelvis, his strokes speeding up, and moving deeper, deeper. She lifted her legs and wrapped them around his hips, opening herself wider, her hips responding in a rhythmic movement, matching his.
His mouth moved from her lips and her blood surged in a wild thrill when his tongue began circling one of her nipples, burning into her skin, it seemed, the heat of passion that was growing so intensely within her. He rolled her nipple with his tongue, over and over again, drawing a lingering sigh from deeply within.
Surprising her, he suddenly lay still above her. He framed her face between his hands and looked down at her, his eyes glazed over with passion. “My woman, you have become the center of all my thinking,” he said huskily. “I have never loved before as I love you. We must marry soon.”
Clinging around his neck, Leonida’s eyes filled with joyous tears. “Yes, oh, yes,” she whispered. “Soon. I find such joy within your arms, oh, so much joy. I love you, Sage. I want to be your woman, forever and ever. I want to be your wife.”
Sage smiled broadly, then brought his lips down upon hers in a crushing kiss. His body began moving more quickly, and soon they spasmed together, their bodies rocking and swaying together gloriously.
Afterward, Sage rolled away from Leonida. She turned on her side to face him, and placed a cheek on his heaving chest. “What brought me from the hogan was you, darling, when you were singing a song about your horse,” she said, gazing up at him. “It was so lovely. You had said something earlier about songs and their importance to your people. You also said that you would explain this meaning to me. I would love to hear it now, darling. I want to know everything about you and your people. I want to feel one with them soon.”
Sage placed an arm around her and drew her closer. “The Hozhonji songs have been given to the Navaho by the gods,” he said softly. “They are songs of peace and of blessings. They protect the people against all evil. We sing a Hozhonji song to purify or bless ourselves, or others.”
He turned and faced her, one arm draped over her side. “The Navaho sing as white men say their prayers,” he further explained. “The Navaho hero, Nayenezrani, is like the white man’s Bible hero David. By our Holy Ones were the songs made, even as the Bible was made by holy people.”
Leonida thought back to how impressed she had been by the singing of not only Sage but the others as well. She had been listening to traditional songs which had been learned and handed down through generations. The quiet, monotonous quality of the chant had seemed heightened by Sage’s concentration as he had sang; with closed eyes, he had seemed to bend his every thought upon his singing.
“You sang of your horse,” she suddenly blurted out. “Is he sacred to you, Sage? Is he something holy?”
“A horse comes second only to a man’s woman,” Sage said, then drew her against him and smothered her lips with his mouth, stifling any further conversation.
Chapter 14
There we will sit upon the rocks,
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
—MARLOWE
The sound of someone softly weeping awakened Leonida from her restful sleep. She tensed and listened more closely. When she did not hear the sobbing any longer, she thought perhaps she had been dreaming. There had been enough sadness of late to cause such nightmares.
Yawning, Leonida wiped her eyes, somewhat disoriented as she looked slowly around her. When her gaze fell on Sage, sleeping so soundly beside her, remembrances of their lovemaking washed over her. She felt nothing even akin to shame over having given herself to this handsome headman before wedding vows were spoken. Deep within her heart, where she always separated right from wrong, Leonida knew that loving Sage so freely was not wrong. She could never allow herself to think that it was, for never would they have the opportunity to stand before a minister. His Navaho marriage ceremony would have to do, and she accepted this without reservation.
Leonida’s eyes widened and she sat up quickly when she heard the soft sobbing again. This time she realized that it most definitely was real, and she knew without a doubt who was crying.
Trevor!
Leonida bolted from the sleeping platform. She looked around her for her clothes, and then she remembered having come to this bedroom naked. The skirt and blouse that had been brought to her were still in the outer room.
Sage awakened and gazed up at Leonida, his eyes feasting on her nakedness, instantly desiring her. Then he tensed as he heard the soft sobbing coming from the other bedroom. “Trevor?” he said, moving quickly from the bed. “He cries?”
Leonida turned away, blushing over being nude in a man’s presence. Then she forgot her inhibitions, knowing that this was not just any man. No one could know her body any better than Sage, perhaps not even herself.
“Sage, it is Trevor,” she said, her voice anxious. “He’s missing his mother. And he’s probably frightened after waking up in strange surroundings. I must go to him.”
She gestured with a hand toward the door. “But my clothes are in the other room,” she said, watching Sage step quickly into his velveteen breeches. “I can’t go out there naked. I’m afraid Trevor would see me from his room.”
His breeches secured at his waist, Sage rushed from the room and soon returned with the skirt and blouse, and also soft moccasins that Pure Blossom had brought.
“I will go to him,” he said. “Come when you are dressed.”
Leonida nodded and began hurrying into the clothes. She admired Sage’s attentiveness to Trevor, yet could see that it was partially because he was feeling guilty over Carole’s death. Perhaps he felt more responsible for Trevor now than even Leonida did. If so, they could come together to make a wonderful life for Trevor, if . . .
“If Kit Carson and Harold don’t find Sage’s stronghold and ruin everything,” she said, frowning as she tied the drawstrings of the brightly colored blouse together in front. She recalled the steep climb to get to the stronghold. That made it almost unaccessible. Yet Sage had worried about the Navaho crops way down below in a valley, quite accessible to outsiders. Those crops were the lifeblood of the Navaho. Kit Carson was clever enough to realize that if he burned the crops, he would starve those who depended on them.
Hers and Trevor’s future with Sage might become questionable if they were all forced to flee the stronghold. And even though Sage’s intentions were pure toward the captive women and children, if he was enraged enough, he might have cause to forget his promises.
Leonida suddenly realized that Trevor had stopped sobbing. Weaving her fingers through her hair to straighten its tangles, Leonida hurried into Trevor’s bedroom, stopping, breathless at the sight that she came upon. Trevor was in Sage’s arms. Sage was rocking the child back and forth, singing to him the song of his horse again. Trevor now emitted only an occasional sob, resting his fat cheek against Sage’s chest.
Touched by the tender scene, Leonida felt tears coming to her eyes. She watched a moment longer, then went to stand beside Sage. The only light in the room was the soft glow from the dying embers in the fire pit in the outer room, but it was enough to see that Trevor’s
cheeks and nose were rosy from crying. And when he held his arms out to her, she gladly took him and cuddled him close.
“I want my mommy,” he said, again softly crying. A deep sob wracked his tiny body. “Take me to my mommy.”
Leonida and Sage exchanged quick glances. Sage then walked gingerly from the room, leaving Leonida with Trevor to explain.
After a lengthy discussion, with Trevor listening intently, he reached up and gave Leonida a big hug.
“You will be my mommy now,” he said, a delayed sob causing his body to shudder, then grow still. “Sage will be my father. That will make my real mommy happy?”
“As she looks down from heaven, I am sure she approves of what she has seen this morning,” Leonida said, caressing his tiny back through his white cotton shirt. “She has seen not only me loving you, but also Sage. I’m sure she is smiling down at you even now, Trevor. Can you give her a smile back?”
Wiping a desultory tear from one of his eyes, Trevor looked heavenward and smiled, then looked at Leonida for approval. “Was that smile big enough?” he asked softly. “Did she see it, do you think?”
“She saw it and she liked it,” Leonida said, carrying him to the outer room. As she set him on his feet, she noticed that Sage had put fresh wood on the fire and was gone. She had to wonder why he had left without telling her first. And where had he gone so early in the morning? She did not hear any commotion outside. And as she peered at the smoke hole in the ceiling, she realized why. She could see that it was just barely daylight.
Trevor had gone to the copper tub, where the suds still floated atop the water. She smiled to herself as he started picking at the bubbles with his fingers, giggling as they burst and splashed onto his hand. She was recalling how much she had enjoyed the bath and thought that perhaps Trevor might enjoy one as well. She went to the tub and studied the water. It seemed clean enough, with only her having bathed in it.
She then eyed Trevor. She became suddenly bashful at the thought of undressing the little man and bathing him. Perhaps she might wait and see if Sage would do the honors.
But Trevor was taking care of the chore himself. He was undressing eagerly and was soon standing naked before her.
“Water?” he said, holding his arms out to her. “Will you put me in the water? I want to play with the bubbles.”
Laughing softly, seeing that she had worried for naught about this little boy feeling uncomfortable in her presence with his clothes off, Leonida put her hands beneath his armpits and lifted him up into the tub. He squealed as he settled down into the water, which was cold to his tender flesh.
A noise behind her drew Leonida quickly around. Sage came up to her and smiled devilishly down at her, then went and knelt down beside the tub of water and playfully sprinkled some water over Trevor’s head.
“My son, there is something special for you outside the hogan,” Sage said, caressing Trevor’s back. “Let us get you out of the water so that you can see what Sage has brought for you.”
Leonida glanced toward the hogan door, then down at Sage. She was dying to know what he was talking about, so grateful that he was finding time for her and Trevor at this time when his mind was surely filled with worries of his stronghold being discovered and concern for the future of his people.
Sage lifted Trevor out of the water and stood him beside the fire, which was now blazing. Sage dried Trevor off with a towel made from soft doeskin and helped him into his clothes. “You will soon wear only clothes of the Navaho,” Sage said. “Though your skin is white, in your heart and actions, you will be Navaho.”
Twining her fingers together behind her, Leonida watched Sage pampering this child as though he were his own. Sage brushed Trevor’s shoulder-length hair with the short, tight end of a brush made from a sheaf of straw and dry grass. She stepped closer, watching Sage pull Trevor’s hair back and tie it in a chongo, a bundle of hair at the nape of the neck.
“Now you look part Navaho,” Sage said, laughing softly as he rose to his full height, towering over Trevor, who looked devotedly up at him, smiling broadly.
“Take me to see the surprise now,” Trevor said, lifting a hand to Sage to be held. He glanced over at Leonida, lifting his other hand to her.
Smiling down at him, touched by this child’s innocence and sweetness, Leonida took his hand, and they went outside.
In the shadows of early morning, Trevor moved slowly toward the brown-spotted palomino pony whose dark-brown eyes were looking trustingly at the child. Reaching a hand out, he gently touched the pony’s nose, then squealed when the pony nuzzled his hand playfully.
“The pony is yours,” Sage said, going to lift Trevor onto the back of the animal. “Forever it is yours. You will grow into the saddle that I will give you. The pony will know you always by your touch and smell. You will become as one when you ride with the wind beneath the sun, moon, and stars.”
Sage took one of Trevor’s hands and placed it on the pony’s mane. “Familiarize yourself with him, my son,” he said. “Give him a name. Never will he be called by anything else.”
Trevor’s eyes became as wide as silver dollars as he began lovingly stroking the pony’s mane. He looked trustingly over at Sage and revealed his choice of names for his pony. “Can I call him Spottie?” he asked. “I once had a doggie named Spottie but he ran away.”
“Spottie is a good name,” Sage said, nodding his approval. He lifted Trevor down from the pony as Pure Blossom came walking toward them, carrying a steaming pot of food.
Leonida hurried to her and eased the pot from her frail hands. “Let me help you with that,” she murmured, Pure Blossom smiling up at Leonida from her awkward, twisted position.
Leonida inhaled the wondrous fragrance of the food in the pot. “Who is the lucky one that gets this for breakfast?” she teased, in awe that Pure Blossom would have been up so early in the morning preparing food. She glanced down into the pot. It contained meat from the backbone of a yearling calf boiled with corn. Never had she smelled anything as delicious, yet she knew that it was only because she was so hungry. Right now anything would smell and taste good.
“I prepared food for you, Sage, and the child,” Pure Blossom said, pulling a round, rubbery loaf of bread from a deep, large pocket of her skirt. “Soon I will teach you how to cook the food of the Navaho. Until then you eat what I prepare. Does that please you, Leonida?”
“Yes, that pleases me very much,” Leonida said. Her smile faded as she took a closer look at Pure Blossom and noticed that her usual pallor was even worse today and her eyes were sunk in.
“Are you all right, Pure Blossom?” Leonida asked as they all turned to enter the hogan. She was glad when Sage took the heavy pot from her and took it inside, Trevor trailing devotedly behind him.
“Pure Blossom never feels good,” Pure Blossom said, shrugging.
Just before entering the hogan, Leonida put a hand on her brow and was relieved that Pure Blossom did not show any signs of having a temperature.
“If you start to feel worse, be sure to tell me or Sage,” Leonida said, placing a gentle hand on Pure Blossom’s frail face. “We want to make sure nothing happens to you. You’re special, Pure Blossom. So very, very special.”
Pure Blossom blushed and ducked her head, then followed Leonida into the hogan.
Once inside, as they were all getting settled on the mats around the fire, Pure Blossom reached a hand to Leonida’s arm. “You like Navaho clothes and moccasins?” she asked, her eyes shining. “They made by my own hands.”
“I like them very much,” Leonida said, smiling over at her. “I do appreciate having them. Thank you.”
“The blanket your white pony soldier paid for should be finished soon,” Pure Blossom said. An awkward silence fell, and Sage scowled at her.
Pure Blossom looked shyly from her brother to Leonida. “You do not want the blanket?” she innocently asked. “The white pony soldier paid well for it. Should I send it to him by a Navaho messenger?”
/> “Burn the blanket,” Sage said. “It was intended for a wedding between the white man and my woman. There is to be a wedding, but not the one planned by the white man. The marriage ceremony will be performed in our village between Sage and Leonida, and Sage does not have to offer gifts paid for by the white man. Sage’s gifts will be from Sage.”
Leonida smiled weakly over at Pure Blossom as she gaped openly at her. Leonida had to wonder if Pure Blossom approved or disapproved. It was important to Leonida that she be accepted first by Sage’s sister. The acceptance of the rest of the people would, she hoped, follow shortly after.
She sighed with relief when Pure Blossom leaned over and gave her a big hug.
“Pure Blossom has always wanted a sister,” she murmured. “Even that your skin is white does not matter. You have proven that you have the heart and soul of a Navaho.”
Sage smiled, then moved in front of the fire and the large pot of food hanging from a spit over it. “It is time to bless the hogan, and then we eat,” he said, drawing Leonida and Pure Blossom apart.
Trevor got on his knees and crawled to Sage. His eyes were large as he watched Sage sprinkle white cornmeal and then white powder made from prayer sticks into the fire.
Then everyone enjoyed the breakfast, the time spent in eating and talking cheerfully. Afterwards, Sage took Trevor to introduce him to other children of his same age, while Pure Blossom took Leonida to her hogan and showed her how she wove yarn into blankets and other wearing apparel, then how to make bread, the Navaho delicacy. Leonida watched as Pure Blossom spread with her hands a thin batter of blue-corn meal on a smoking-hot griddle, allowed it to bake a few seconds, then lifted it off. Pure Blossom told her that it took years of practice to smear the batter onto the griddle without burning one’s fingers. She bragged that her stone griddle was one of her most treasured possessions, having been handed down for generations.
After several batches of bread had been made, Leonida ate some of it, and found that she didn’t like the taste as much as the smell.
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