Wild Splendor

by Cassie Edwards

  The day passed quickly. Trevor was ready to go to bed even before the sun set behind the mountain. It was a day of Leonida’s being introduced to Sage’s people and accepted by them for they accepted everything of their leader’s choice, even if his choice of a wife was a white woman.

  Leonida hated the reaction of the white women, who stood aside with their children, obviously appalled by Leonida’s decision to marry the Navaho chief.

  At dusk she walked arm in arm with Sage away from the village of hogans, finding refuge behind the oaks and the currant bushes that grew in a niche of red rock like the folds of a giant curtain.

  They continued walking, not saying anything, just enjoying one another’s company. Behind a lofty fir was a cleft that opened at shoulder height into transparent shadow. The footholds were worn to velvety roundness, and it was hard for Leonida to keep her footing.

  But she did not mind the challenge, for here she was finding it so beautiful—the soft, gray stone, dark shadows, green coolness, and sweet smell of dampness. No breeze stirred. No details could be seen in the cliffs, only the silhouette of a river of mountains in the distance against the sky.

  Sage gave Leonida’s hand a gentle jerk, stopping her. Swinging her around, he pulled her against his hard body. His heart thumped wildly as she gazed up at him with adoration in her eyes. He reached his hands up to her hair and gently pushed his fingers through her silken tresses, then placed a hand at the nape of her neck and brought her lips to his. His mouth trembled against hers, his tongue flicking between her lips, touching her tongue, tip to tip with his.

  Leonida splayed her fingers against his chest, then moved her fingers lower until she had managed to get his shirttail out from the encumbrance of his breeches. Slowly her fingers worked with the buttons of his shirt, then spread the shirt open and placed her trembling fingers on the magnificence of his chest.

  Sage stepped back a fraction, giving her space to work at removing the rest of his clothes, and when he was naked, he gave her a lingering kiss as his fingers worked at disrobing her.

  After they were both naked, he led her beneath a rock overhang, where there was a thick bed of moss. Pressing his body against hers, he led her down so that her back lay against the soft cushion of moss. She was not even aware of the air becoming cooler as night came on. Sage was blanketing her with his body, his hands warm as he softly kneaded first one breast and then the other.

  Leonida hungrily strained her body up against Sage’s when one of his hands went to the center of her passion and began caressing her, readying her for the ultimate pleasure. She moaned throatily when he leaned down and flicked his tongue around one of her nipples, causing a fierce, fevered heat to spread through her like wildfire. Needing him, wanting him so badly, she opened herself to him, almost choking on a cry of bliss when he understood her message and entered her with one deep thrust, which seemed to reach clear up into her heart.

  Rhythmically he moved within her as she rocked with him, thrusting her pelvis. She was becoming delirious with sensation as desire washed over her, his thrusts becoming faster and more determined, his lips everywhere, it seemed, kissing, his tongue lapping.

  Sage felt pleasure spreading within him, tremors of ecstasy cascading down his back. He kissed Leonida again, his mouth urgent and eager. Their flesh seemed to fuse, their bodies sucking at each other. He was nearing that moment of sensual shock, feeling it growing within him, spreading, growing, then bursting forth, as though great, flashing rays of sunshine had been set off inside his brain.

  His hands moved to her buttocks and cupped them, forcing her hips to his, crushing her against him, pressing himself endlessly deeper.

  And then he gave himself up to the shuddering in his loins, flooding her womb with his seed, smiling as she strained her hips up at him, crying out at her own fulfillment.

  Afterward, their bodies subsided together, exhausted. They lay there for some time with her stroking his smooth copper back. Sage caressed one of her breasts, then leaned over and sucked the nipple between his teeth, softly chewing on it, his tongue flicking around it.

  Leonida closed her eyes in ecstasy. “If you don’t stop, we’ll spend all night here,” she said. In response, his hands moved down her body, his fingers soon touching the center of her desire again, softly caressing it.

  Sighing, Leonida moved with him as he turned her around so that she lay on top of him, her breasts crushed against his chest. Her hair tumbled down, surrounding his face, as she moved her mouth to his lips and urged them apart, soon touching her tongue to his.

  She gasped and threw her head back when she felt him thrust himself into her again. Her heart pounded and she bit her lower lip as the same wild splendor captured her.

  Sage clasped his fingers to her breasts, and she moved to a sitting position atop him so that he could more easily fill her with his hardness. Once more they entered that realm of total bliss, forgetting what might happen tomorrow, only relishing the moment, as though it were their last.

  Chapter 15

  Is there within thy heart a need

  That mine cannot fulfill?

  One chord that any other hand

  Could better wake or still?

  —ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER

  The fire was burning low and soft in the fire pit. The aroma of food lay pleasantly in the air. Sitting beside the fire on mats, Leonida filled Trevor’s bowl again with corn mush. She patted his head affectionately as she replaced the black pot of food on a hook over the fire, marveling at how Pure Blossom could come and go with her offerings of food without Leonida hearing her. Leonida was surprised that Pure Blossom could keep going when she so obviously showed signs of being progressively ill with some mysterious disease. Leonida feared the morning that she might awake and hear that Pure Blossom had passed away in her sleep.

  Shuddering at the thought, hoping that she was wrong about Pure Blossom’s state of health, Leonida forced herself to think of other things. Her gaze shifted toward the door of the hogan. When she had awakened this morning, Sage had been gone already, without even a word.

  “I want to go out and see my pony,” Trevor said, bringing Leonida out of her reverie. “Please? Can I? I want to show him to the other children.”

  Leonida swept him into her arms and gave him a hug. “Yes, darling,” she murmured. “You go outside and see your pony. But don’t go far. There are cliffs everywhere. Stay within the village.”

  “I will,” Trevor said, easing out of her arms. He scrambled to his feet and left the hogan at a run.

  Leonida stared at the door blankly for a moment, knowing that she should feel grateful for so many things, but the weight of the world seemed to be on her shoulders this morning and she was finding it almost impossible to shake the feeling.

  She could not help but wonder how close Kit Carson might be to finding Sage’s stronghold. And what Harold’s rage at finding her taken captive might lead him to do? Then there was the welfare of the rest of the captives, even though they had been given shelter and food enough to make them comfortable. She only wished that they could be set free soon and returned to their loved ones.

  Sighing heavily, Leonida picked up Trevor’s empty bowl and her own, which was still half full, and started to go outside to wash them in the basin just outside the door. She stopped in midstep and stared as Pure Blossom came into the hogan, her arms loaded down with clothes. At one glance Leonida saw that these were much different than the ones she had been given before. These were made of doeskin, so pure white they resembled the fluffy soft clouds one could see in the sky on sweet mornings of spring in San Francisco. Her eyes widened as she discovered also that the beadwork on the clothes was brilliantly pretty in design.

  “It is good that you have eaten already,” Pure Blossom said, going to Leonida, smiling up at her from her awkwardly twisted stance. “You must prepare for the ceremony. You must prepare Trevor. It is a special day, Leonida. There will be much laughter and gaiety.”

  “T
here will?” Leonida asked. She lay the bowls beside the fire again, then accepted the soft clothes as Pure Blossom laid them across her outstretched arms. “Why is there to be a celebration? I am sure your people are worrying about too much now to celebrate anything.”

  “When their chief marries, there is cause to forget troubles, at least for that day of the ceremony,” Pure Blossom said, smiling broadly.

  Leonida’s eyes widened and she felt the rush of heat to her cheeks. “Marries?” she gasped, stunned. “Sage? He is going to marry . . . ?”

  “Beautiful Leonida,” Pure Blossom said, nodding eagerly. “He is marrying you. Did he not tell you? He is preparing for the celebration even now. He is even showing Trevor how to decorate his pony. Then Trevor will come to the hogan and get dressed in his Navaho attire. No more will he wear the clothes of a little white boy.”

  Leonida’s head was spinning. Sage had left early to prepare for their marriage ceremony.

  Soon they would become man and wife.

  Pure Blossom laid Trevor’s Indian attire across Leonida’s arms. Leonida stared down at the briefness of the garment, recognizing it to be a breechclout.

  She looked quickly up again, wonder in her eyes at the thought of Trevor wearing such a garment, especially when there were still other white children in the village who might poke fun at him.

  “I don’t know,” she murmured, again staring at the scant garment. “Trevor might not want to wear the breechclout.”

  “For Sage, he must,” Pure Blossom said softly. She placed a gentle hand on Leonida’s shoulder. “Do not worry about what others might think or do. Think only of Sage and what pleases him. That is also how Trevor must react to his new attire.”

  Leonida silently nodded. She watched Pure Blossom turn and walk shakily away, the frail maiden seeming even weaker today, yet filled with no less spirit and sweetness than before. Whatever was slowly draining her of life did not seem to weigh heavily on her heart. She seemed to be accepting it, as she had always accepted the fate of being different in appearance from everyone else.

  “Uke-he,” Leonida said quickly before Pure Blossom left the hogan.

  The maiden stopped and smiled back at Leonida, then went on outside.

  She lay Trevor’s breechclout aside, staring at it doubtfully only a moment longer, and then she knelt on the mats and spread out her white doeskin dress, entranced by its loveliness. The edges of the long sleeves and the hem of the skirt were fringed. The beads were soft pinks, blues, and turquoises, shaped like flowers. The new moccasins that Pure Blossom had brought with the dress were beaded to match, and a beaded headband was also there to be worn at her brow. She would not only be marrying a Navaho today, she would in a sense become one herself.

  “It is lovely enough?”

  Sage’s voice behind her sent a thrill through Leonida’s veins. She could not move to her feet quickly enough. She went to him and flung herself into his arms. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked excitedly. She gazed up at him, marveling anew at his handsomeness. “Darling, you knew last night that we were going to be married today and you did not tell me. Why?”

  “I saw no need,” he said, slipping his fingers through her hair. “Is it not best this way? Is not the surprise worth everything?”

  Leonida giggled, then hugged him tightly as she lay her cheek against his bare chest. “Yes, I believe so,” she said, closing her eyes. “Oh, darling, I do love you so much.”

  “Our path of happiness will no longer be beset with ambushes. We will be married, and it will be in a beautiful way,” Sage said, lovingly stroking her back. “The gods will marry us.”

  He framed her face between his hands and lowered his lips to hers. He gave her a kiss of reverence, of forever.

  Chapter 16

  I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

  My soul can reach.

  —ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING

  The sun was down. The streaming, wavering flames of torches stuck in the ground in the midst of the village made a golden glow in the blue dusk. The beat of a lone drum and several rattles resounded in the air, supplying the music for the various dances being displayed for those who participated in the marriage celebration.

  Feeling like a princess in a storybook, dressed so beautifully in her Indian dress and so filled with love for Sage that she ached with the heady sweetness of it, Leonida sat on a soft pelt spread on a platform with her beloved, amid Sage’s people.

  A great outdoor fire usually marked a wedding celebration, but to avoid drawing attention to those who might be at the foot of the mountain tonight, only gray, dark, and cold ashes lay in the center of the circle of Navaho, who were stiffly and quietly awaiting the moment when their chief would become one with a woman not of their skin coloring.

  Leonida was trying not to let the people’s indifferent attitude toward her spoil her special day. She could often feel them glaring at her, and she herself was aware of how the Indian costume accentuated her whiteness.

  She was even trying to understand why none of the captives had chosen to leave their dwellings for the marriage ceremony. If she glanced toward the lean-tos where they were living until they were set free, she could catch an occasional glimpse of a woman, or perhaps a child with eager eyes, staring out at Trevor, who was running and playing with the young Indian braves of his same age, now dressed as one of them.

  Leonida feared that Trevor’s attire had been the final insult as far as the women had been concerned. She doubted now that they would ever forgive her, even though she saw herself that there was truly nothing to forgive. If they had loved as she loved Sage, they also would have followed their heart and given themselves totally to the man with a commitment for a life of loving and caring for him.

  Although various dancers continued entertaining in the midst of the crowd, Trevor was having footraces with the young Navaho braves. Leonida turned and watched, marveling not only at how comfortable and accepting of his scant Indian attire Trevor seemed but also at his speed for such a young boy.

  Leonida turned to Sage and touched his face gently, silently urging him to watch the youth of his village at their games. Sage followed her bidding and set his attention on Trevor. He had not seen such speed in a child in years. Strange how pride seemed to swell within him at the sight, he thought to himself, at this moment, feeling so like a father who saw the gifts of a son. Sage’s eyes gleamed as he turned to Leonida and leaned his face down close to hers.

  “He will no longer be called Trevor,” he whispered to her. “He has earned the name Woodii, which means ‘runner’ in Navaho. When we speak of Runner, we speak of Trevor. Is that something you can accept? That he will no longer carry the name of a white boy around with him?”

  Leonida did not speak right away, stunned to silence by Sage’s further acceptance of Trevor—he thought enough of him to give him a Navaho name. And she no longer was suspicious of his reasons for showing such affection toward the orphan. Sage no longer had to do anything to persuade her to accept him as her husband. She was only moments away from becoming his wife. His feelings toward Trevor were sincere.

  Filled with emotions too numerous to separate and define, Leonida leaned into Sage’s embrace, placing her cheek on his chest, which was bare today, as was his whole body except for the briefest of breechclouts.

  “Yes, I can accept your decision to call Trevor ‘Runner,’” she murmured. “I think it is wonderful that you are so involved with the child that you would give him a Navaho name.”

  “He is our son, is he not?” Sage said, placing his fingers on Leonida’s shoulders to push her slightly away from him so that their eyes could meet. “He will know this in all ways Navaho.”

  A squeal behind them drew their attention back to the boys at play. Leonida sucked in a breath of delight when she found that one of the other white boys had joined the fun, Adam Jones.

  Leonida shifted her gaze to Sally, Adam’s mother. She had left her lean-to and was watching
the children at play. When Sally moved her eyes to Leonida and smiled at her, Leonida sighed with gratefulness. She returned the smile, knowing that if Sally’s anger had waned, so would that of the other women. She seemed to be a leader among women, so well liked that no one could refuse her anything.

  “All will soon be right again between you and your friends,” Sage said, taking Leonida’s hand and lovingly squeezing it. “They are allowing themselves to relax and see that I meant them no harm. As each day progresses, they must realize it draws them closer to freedom. Soon they will walk among those who love them again and look back upon this experience as something not evil but as a learning experience—learning from it the wrong of the white man toward the Navaho and what those wrongs are forcing upon the Navaho. How could they not walk away from our village with this in their hearts and souls—that their people have wronged my people and will continue to do so, I am sure, until there is no breath left in any Navaho or any white and the world becomes barren of either?”

  His words, his prediction of doom between both races of people, caused Leonida to shudder. She looked up into Sage’s dark eyes, seeing so much torment and pain, even now, on his wedding day.

  “I’m sorry for so much,” she murmured. “If only I could help in some way. But I am only one person, only a woman, powerless against those who are making plans against the Navaho. If only I were a man . . .”

  Sage was pleased at the way she looked in her Navaho attire. Even the headband was right for her. His gaze swept lower, seeing the swell of her breasts beneath the soft doeskin of her dress; his loins turned to fire when he thought of touching them again. Never could there be anything as soft as her breasts.

  His lips trembled into a smile. “You are too much woman ever to wish to be a man,” he said, chuckling low. “There are many men in the world, but only one woman. You, white woman. You. And you are mine.”