“Can’t do that, sir. The attack comes tonight, the minute they’re asleep. We can’t risk sitting around waiting for Gray Eagle to suspect our trick and hurry home. Before midnight, not a soul will be alive in his camp.”
“You best pray you either succeed or die alongside Hodges when Gray Eagle avenges this crime. I doubt you’ll care to fall under my command later, which you assuredly will if you survive,” Sturgis ominously warned.
“What kind of soldier would I be, sir, if I balked a direct order?” Collins inserted uneasily, aware of the sincerity of Sturgis’ threat.
“I would question the rank and sanity of any leader who blindly ordered the butchery he has, sergeant,” Sturgis scoffed acidly.
“We didn’t start this bloodbath, sir. They did.”
Their gazes clashed mutely before Sturgis alleged smugly, “Did they, sergeant? Whose land are we presently standing upon? Did we invade their territory? Or did they trespass upon ours? What did we expect? Are they supposed to calmly step aside and allow us to take over? Truce is the only answer, Collins. You attack that camp, and you’re all dead men.”
“Maybe so, sir, but we’re riding in after dark.”
Sturgis sighed heavily. There was no way to change Collins’ mind or to alter Hodges’ commands. Worse, his detail was vastly outnumbered by the combined details of Collins’ troop. Hodges had planned this reprehensible annihilation well. His hands were tied; there was no way to prevent a raid upon the camp of the Oglala. He wondered if he should brazenly ride into the camp and give warning there. That would be foolish, idealistic. He wouldn’t make it past the first tepee before braves filled his blue-clad body with arrows. They would never accept his words of warning and truce under such contradictory circumstances. If only he could parlay with the Eagle himself…it was impossible at present; it would be more impossible after the wanton destruction of his camp. Damnit! Was there no end to this madness and bloodshed, no answer that could bring peace?
“I’ll ask you one last time, Collins, don’t invade that camp tonight,” Sturgis made a final appeal to the man with icy blood.
“Sorry, sir, but it’s too late to stop it. Our plans have all fallen into place. The warriors are two days’ ride from here by now. What few braves were left behind won’t stand a chance against my armed outfit. It’s defeat him now or never. We ride in tonight.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, sergeant,” were the last words ever spoken between them.
Tragically, while the Oglala warriors anticipated and awaited confrontation with the cavalry from the western face of their village, Collins and his large troop were moving in from the eastern side! Gray Eagle had assumed the soldiers would merely ride directly toward the camp, but they had furtively skirted it to cunningly approach from the opposite direction. Within miles of each other, one group’s destiny would fiercely challenge that of the other….
But other fates were being simultaneously tested and decided in the Oglala camp itself….
Chapter Twenty
A desperate frenzy filled Leah as she arose from her sleeping mat to feel the sudden rush of scarlet liquid down her thighs that vividly exposed her many lies and treachery. Sheer panic flooded her limp frame. It seemed as if all the forces of nature were against her. Thankfully, she was alone. For a time, her deadly secret was known only to her. There was but one path of action and survival left open to her: escape. But first, she owed several people revenge: Shalee for destroying all her dreams and desires; Gray Eagle for coldly and brutally rejecting her; White Arrow for assisting in her defeat; and Running Wolf for using her and then discarding her. A lethal blow at Shalee would accomplish all of these!
Lingering behind until she observed the other women returning from their morning bath at the river, she fingered the lethal blade in her sweaty grasp as she mentally plotted her malice and flight. She concealed the knife beneath her dress. Packing a few supplies, she hid them in her bundle of laundry. She placed the evidence of her exposed deceit beneath her sleeping mat, for Running Wolf would never discover the bloodstained cloths in time to expose her trickery. She would be long gone before anyone suspected her plans or could foil them. She headed for the stream, knowing Shalee had not returned to camp yet.
A malicious sneer crossed her face as she noted the three women completing their baths. When she joined them and apologized for her tardiness, Wandering Doe and Tasia ignored her to leave Shalee alone with the offensive slave, no one imagining the danger the Indian princess was about to confront.
Leah’s monthly was terribly late, and Shalee was beginning to believe Leah was pregnant with Running Wolf’s child. With so much on her mind, Shalee’s guard was dangerously lowered. How she longed for this weighty matter to be settled one way or other.
“You needn’t fret over my tardy arrival or fear I’ll be too sick to do my chores,” she viciously snapped at the unsuspecting Shalee.
“Frankly I try not to think about you at all, Leah! Just do as you’re told or these next months will be extremely hard for you as your time approaches.”
Time approaches? Leah excitedly pondered, recognizing that Shalee was finally accepting her word about the baby. In just a short time, she would alter the fates of many people, including her own. Her course was laid out; she could not change it. First, there was the matter of fatal revenge; then, she would flee eastward since they would probably search westward for her where the nearest fort was located. It was too late to replace this particular woman whose return from the grave had destroyed her dream life and obsessive love!
Leah deceptively queried, baffling Shalee with the strange tone in her voice, “I didn’t ask to love him, but I cannot halt these feelings. I didn’t entice Running Wolf to rape me. I was so confused and afraid. I feared I would lose my mind. Do you know what it’s like to lose all you have, to become a despised slave?” she scoffed, furtively eyeing Shalee for any clue to the puzzle of her prior existence.
Shalee gaped at the bewildering Leah. What was she up to now? Shalee refused to hear any more lies. Leah was anything but a defenseless, abused slave! If she thought for one moment she could delude her again, she was vastly mistaken. Shalee glared skeptically at Leah, then returned to her task.
“You don’t believe me, do you?” Leah asked, stalling for time to retrieve the blade. Somehow she had to prevent Shalee’s departure!
Shalee continued to ignore Leah’s taunts and presence. She leaned over to pick up her blanket to dry her dripping hair.
With fierce hatred glazing her emerald eyes, Leah withdrew the knife and raised it, preparing to plunge it into the back of Shalee.
“Shalee! Toka! Wayakcto!” the warning thundered across the silence, warning of an enemy’s presence.
Shalee whirled and straightened, her wide gaze taking in the swiftly descending knife. “Leah! No!” she screamed in a panic.
Shalee fell backwards to avoid the death which threatened her. Leah lunged at her prone figure, shrieking, “I’m going to kill you! You did this to me! I hate you!”
Running Wolf was granted a surge of energy and pounced upon the white girl, throwing both of them to the ground. Crazed, Leah squirmed in his grasp and sent the knife deeply and forcefully into his chest. A shout of pain was torn from the old chief’s lips. Leah yanked the knife free and delivered another blow to his shoulder before he could roll free and avoid it.
Blood oozed from the wounds on Running Wolf’s chest. Weakened, he could hardly move. But Leah’s hatred flooded her body with unnatural strength. With the chief too injured to battle her, she recognized her impending success over both enemies. She could finish him later. She held the ominous weapon tightly as she cast her menacing gaze upon the stunned Indian princess. As a wolf stalking his weaker prey, Leah edged toward Shalee.
“Leah! Stop it! You’ve gone mad!” Shalee warned the girl of her crazed actions, frantically playing for time.
A shrill and eerie burst of laughter came forth. “You will both die!” she bol
dly and smugly threatened.
“You can’t do this terrible thing!” Shalee argued in alarm, completely cognizant of the girl’s madness and brute strength.
“Who will stop me? Surely not that dying old man. When I finish with you, I’ll cut out his savage heart! Gray Eagle was mine until you came back. If he learned to accept a woman who was once his despised slave, he can learn again with me! He’ll be mine again!” she suddenly declared.
“He’ll never be yours, Leah. Halt this madness and I’ll help you!”
“With you and that simpering wolf dead, he’ll turn to me for comfort, just like before. This time, he’ll be too weak to resist me.”
“You tricked Running Wolf and Gray Eagle, Leah. He’ll never love you or trust you. He’ll despise you for harming us, Leah. Think!” she urged the jittery girl.
“He’ll think some enemy killed you two. I’ll stab myself to prove how I struggled to save your lives. He’ll be so grateful he’ll keep me. Of course,” she excitedly plotted aloud. “When he wonders why I’m bleeding, I’ll tell him I’m miscarrying because of the fierce battle to help you!”
“Bleeding? You mean you’re not pregnant?” she demanded, anger replacing most of her panic.
“Don’t be silly! I’ve never been pregnant. My first child will be fathered by the Eagle himself, not that old fool!”
“It won’t work, Leah,” Shalee argued, hoping someone would sound the alarm. How did one reason with insanity?
“After viewing your bloody and lifeless body, he’ll be so crazy with grief he’ll demand I comfort him! How long can a virile man like that refuse my skills? Within a week he’ll be begging to take me!” she crudely exclaimed. She came toward Shalee with the knife uplifted.
Terrified, but clear-headed by now, Shalee kicked her in the abdomen the moment she was close enough, having been told she wasn’t pregnant, knowing there was no unborn child to harm. The forceful blow sent Leah tumbling backwards. Shalee’s screams for help covered those of Leah’s as the knife buried itself in the white girl’s chest. Shalee was scrambling to her feet to ready herself for Leah’s next lunge when several braves raced forward.
At the sound of their rapid approach, Shalee’s eyes darted in that direction. She hastily shrieked, “She’s got a knife! She stabbed Running Wolf! She was trying to kill me!”
On instant alert, the braves cautiously walked toward the prone figure. Leah did not move. With his foot, one brave rolled her over. Shalee smothered a scream as she observed the monstrous fate of Leah Winston: death at her own careless and vengeful hand. Her mind spinning, Shalee hurriedly went to the motionless body of Running Wolf. Placing her ear to his heart, she shouted with relief and joy.
“Take him to his tepee! Fetch the shaman! Quickly, he’s losing much blood,” she shouted assuming command of this shocking situation.
Ramira watched over Bright Arrow as Shalee lingered by the side of Running Wolf, the once powerful man who was now struggling for his very existence. The medicine chief had done the best he could with the jagged wounds that refused to halt their ominous flow. The old chief was growing weaker by the moment, and they were helpless. Even the potent herbs refused to relieve his pain, serving only to inspire tormented jabber. Torturous hours passed.
Shortly before dusk, the medicine chief left Running Wolf’s tepee to head for the Pezuta Tipi to chant and pray for the recovery of their beloved chief, leaving Shalee alone with the fallen warrior.
Shalee sat beside his sleeping mat, the dire events of this tragic day refusing to leave her mind. Her knees drawn up to her chest, her arms encircled them and her forehead rested upon them. Would the Great Spirit demand his life as payment for his loss of honor in the arms of the treacherous Leah? Leah… how sad for any life to end in madness and fierce hatred. She was actually going to kill her! All lies and deceits! If Running Wolf hadn’t suspected she was in danger…
She came to full alert. Her head lifted as she stared at the ailing chief in utter bewilderment. What was he saying? Why would he speak his name? She held her breath as she listened to the incredible revelation of the monstrous secret that had haunted him for years.
“Powchutu,” he called softly, his voice strained. “Come, my son, I must tell you things before I die in such dishonor.”
Shalee gaped at him. My son? Powchutu? He was surely delirious! Powchutu was a half-white scout, past enemy to her love!
She mopped the beads of perspiration from his wrinkled brow. “Rest, Running Wolf, my father. You are weak from blood loss. Shalee is here; she will care for you,” she tenderly entreated.
“I must see him. Send him to me,” he hoarsely commanded of the ghosts who plagued him, a ghost known only to him.
“Who, Running Wolf?” Shalee pressed.
“Powchutu. I must see my other son,” he unknowingly replied.
“You have only one son: Gray Eagle,” she softly debated.
“I have two sons. He was taken from me before his birth. I must speak with him. He must forgive me for denying him. He must understand. I knew of his life too late to spare him such grief.”
“Who is this Powchutu you ask for, Running Wolf?” she helplessly inquired, dreading his imminent answer. Surely it was the drug talking!
“The scout at the fort. His mother carried him when she was sold to a white-eyes. I was not told of him until six winters past. I did not go to him and claim my son. I am filled with shame and anguish. He is known as half-breed and suffers greatly.”
Shalee nearly swooned. It couldn’t be true! Surely there was another Powchutu! Compelled to halt her traitorous thoughts, she questioned, “Does Shalee know this Powchutu?”
“Yes. Shalee is friend to my son Powchutu. He loves her and battles Gray Eagle for her possession. Shalee can find him and bring him to me. His blood is half Crow, not white.”
Shalee fluctuated between nausea and faintness. Had Leah driven her insane? Surely she wasn’t hearing this confession clearly! “Why did you deny him, Running Wolf? Why does Gray Eagle battle his own brother?” she hesitantly asked, praying he would not reply.
“He does not know about his brother. I have denied him since the truth touched my ears. When she wed a white man, I was not told she carried our son. She sent word before death called her. My pride cost me my son. I must see him and plead for forgiveness.”
Gray Eagle and Powchutu were brothers? The half-breed scout, son of an Indian woman and a French trapper, was actually the son of Running Wolf; he was a full-blooded Indian? When she envisioned the scout from Fort Pierre years ago who had befriended her, loved her, and later betrayed her—her heart was ravaged with anguish. Now she understood why he favored Gray Eagle! His half-brother! How could Running Wolf be so cruel and selfish? How many times had Powchutu and Gray Eagle confronted each other in staggering battle? Powchutu had been her friend; he had died protecting her life and honor! He had loved her, no matter how traitorously and obsessively. If fate had devised otherwise, Gray Eagle would have dealt Powchutu. his dying blow. What would her beloved say and feel when he learned the man who had tried to murder him and steal her was actually his own brother? How would he react to discovering his worst rival had been his father’s son, his half-brother? How Powchutu’s life would have been changed by his rightful heritage! How he had suffered as a lowly and despised half-breed! A full-blooded Indian and son of a famed chief! Life was cruel and unjust!
“Powchutu is dead, Running Wolf,” she sadly informed the hazy mind of the feverish chief.
“Did my son slay his own brother?” he cried out.
“No. He was slain by a white man. Why did you deny him his rightful name and place in your tepee? Why did you allow brother to battle brother?” she angrily demanded.
“It was too late to change feelings. Powchutu was white in heart and life. He despised us and aided our enemies,” he feverishly babbled.
“No, he was not! He was always Indian in heart and body! You forced him to endure a life of hatred and denial.
Why?”
“She married a white trapper; she lay with him while she carried my son. He was touched by the white; he was no longer my son. She took his love from me. She did not send word when her father sold her. She must suffer as I did. She made our son lower than the whites!”
“She did not suffer, Running Wolf; Powchutu did. It was wrong to condemn him to such a life. If not for the guidance of the Great Spirit, brother could have slain brother.”
“Gray Eagle did not die from Powchutu’s attack.”
“He could have! When Gray Eagle came after me, he might have slain Powchutu if the white lieutenant hadn’t! How could he live with such shame? Why didn’t you send for him when you learned the truth?”
Long ago when the cavalry from Fort Pierre took her from Gray Eagle’s tepee during a raid, she had met Powchutu as their half-breed scout. In her anguish of believing Gray Eagle had betrayed her love, she had turned to Powchutu: his image in many ways. Now, she knew why. Her heart rebelled against this heartrending confession.
“Where is my new son? I have another chance to prove myself,” he raggedly murmured.
“Leah lied, Running Wolf; there is no child. Calm yourself; you are weak and injured,” she entreated, fretting over his agitation.
“No child?” he echoed weakly.
“No, my father. Leah deceived us; she is dead.”
“Evil slave… manhood burned with need… such magic and pleasure… couldn’t resist such power… weak… shamed,” he mumbled, barely coherent, rending her heart with his confessions.
“Speak no more of such things, Running Wolf. Others might hear. The past is dead. Do not break Gray Eagle’s heart with such news.”
On top of Running Wolf’s betrayal with Leah, how would Gray Eagle respond to hearing his avowed foe and rival for her had been his brother? Thank God his was not the lethal blow to end Powchutu’s life!
Brazen Ecstasy Page 40
