by Logan, Jake
“I have. You are the one who needs to be reminded of the true path.”
“Pardon me,” Slocum said, “but if you two would rather be alone, I wouldn’t mind showing myself out.”
She approached Hevo and reached out to place both hands upon his. Her lithe body was covered by a minimum of clothing. Nothing more than a skirt made from oiled skins and a tunic stitched together from more scraps of animal hide that wrapped around her flat stomach and small, pert breasts. Both pieces of clothing were ripped in several places to show parts of symbols that, as near as Slocum could tell, were painted over her entire body. Even though she was barely over five feet tall, she lorded over Hevo as if she were the master of the entire camp. “Will you come with me, or will you die with this . . . man?” she asked, saying that last word as if it were a joke when applied to Slocum.
Hevo said nothing.
Unlike Slocum, this woman seemed to enjoy Hevo’s silence.
“You are stubborn, as always,” she said. “I want to speak with you alone. Then, it will be seen if you chose to stand with your people or the white man.”
All this time, Slocum had listened to the mostly one-way conversation to see if he could pick up on anything. Even though he’d learned bits and pieces of a few Indian languages, he wasn’t concerned with a translation. Instead, he paid less attention to the words being used and more to how they were being said. Like many women, this one figured she had an ace up her sleeve just by looking the way she did and putting herself close enough for a man to smell the sweat on her skin. Even though Slocum knew she wasn’t there to help, he couldn’t help being attracted to her. She brought a heat to the room just as surely as if the torches outside had been relit. Warmth radiated from her body and her hips swayed slightly as she lowered herself down to speak into Hevo’s ear.
Slocum didn’t know what she said to him, but the way Hevo nodded, it seemed he simply didn’t have the strength to resist. She smiled and backed away. Then, she looked toward the door and said something else. Two large Indians covered in spiral symbols entered the room, released Hevo’s wrists from the nail on the wall, then dragged him by the arms from the cabin.
“Good riddance,” Slocum grumbled. “At least now I can hear myself think.”
17
Hevo was dragged outside, but started walking once he was placed upon his feet. While escorted across the camp, he kept his head down so as not to meet the curious faces that were pointed in his direction. Many of the warriors clearly recognized him and others seemed puzzled as to what he was doing there. None of them thought to impede the guards, who took Hevo all the way to one of the teepees at the perimeter of the settlement.
The teepee was small—barely wide enough for there to be more than a foot of space beyond Hevo’s feet after he was tied to the central support post. His two escorts had to duck their heads while inside and even the woman was unable to stand up straight until she was less than an arm’s length away from the tallest part of the shelter.
“I will tell Spirit Bear where to find you,” one of the men said.
“No,” she replied. “I will tell him. Just go and make sure the other one does not try to escape.”
Both of the men looked at Hevo while reflexively gripping the knives slung from their belts. Only when the woman drew a dagger from her own belt did the pair of warriors decide she had the situation well enough in hand for them to leave.
“It seems you have some of these men eating from your hand, Namid.”
She smiled widely enough to crack the paint on her cheeks. “It has been some time since I was called by that name.”
“What else would someone call you?”
“Spirit Bear calls me Ehtla. It means warrior princess.”
“In what tongue?”
“I think he made his own language,” she said. “Or he stitched one together from all the others used by the tribes. When they are united, they will need a way to speak that comes from all of them but none of them at all.”
Hevo let out a grunting laugh. “You have breathed in too much of the Dreaming Dust. Or do you speak about such foolish things because you know someone is listening to you?”
Climbing on top of him, Namid straddled his lap and gently dragged the tip of her dagger against his chest.
“How can you join with Spirit Bear after what he did to our people?” he asked in a voice that was close to a growl. “I still dream of their screams. Has Spirit Bear twisted you so much that you forget the sounds of all those deaths?”
“Spirit Bear only defended himself against men that would have killed him. I weep because I knew some of those men that were killed, but they left Spirit Bear no choice.”
“They were part of our tribe.”
“But they were also warriors and they died in battle,” she replied. “For any warrior, there is no greater honor.”
“They should be mourned by their people,” Hevo said. “When they look upon you from their hunting grounds, they will hang their heads in shame.”
“You are just swayed, my love. You have spent too much time among people who would rather bow to their white captors than rise up against them and be free.”
Hevo squinted up at her, as if that might help him see any clearer. “Who are you, Namid?”
She placed her fingertips upon his lips, stopping him before he could utter another word. When she snapped her head toward the flap of the teepee, she listened as faint footsteps crunched against the ground outside. Keeping her fingers upon his lips, she leaned toward him and whispered into his ear, “I am the same woman you remember. I was . . . someone else for a time, but I am once again the Star Dancer you once knew.”
Hearing the meaning of her name spoken in her voice was almost too much for Hevo to bear. Despite the smile that fought to arrive on his face, he stared at her intently and asked, “Why should I believe you?”
Instead of speaking, she kissed him. It was jarring at first and Hevo started to recoil, but in a matter of seconds he returned her kiss with passion. His arms struggled to pull free of the ropes so they could wrap around her, but were stopped short by the bonds and the post to which they were fastened. Since he couldn’t embrace her, Namid held on to him even tighter. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, running her fingers through his hair and scraping her nails against his skin. “The words I spoke just now,” she whispered, “were for the benefit of the men who would listen as they guard. I think they are beginning to move away from us. There are preparations to be made.”
“Why . . .” Silenced once more by her fingertips, Hevo lowered his voice so only she could hear him. “Why are you still here? Why have you pledged yourself to Spirit Bear and these murderers?”
Keeping her mouth so close to his ear that Hevo could feel the warmth of her breath, she said, “It was the only way for me to survive. When I was captured, my thoughts were tainted by the Dreaming Dust. It was in the air I breathed, the food I ate, the water I drank. My thoughts were like images reflected in flowing waters. Nothing seemed real. In the middle of this storm . . .”
“. . . was Spirit Bear,” Hevo sighed. “I remember that storm.”
There were still footsteps outside, but they were more distant now. “After a while . . . a long while . . . I became accustomed to the Dreaming Dust,” she continued. “I don’t even know how long it took, but I woke up. When I did, I was accepted among these animals. Spirit Bear sings of reclaiming land and punishing the white man for what he has done, but his followers are nothing but thieves and killers. They are no better than the men that Spirit Bear wants to punish.”
“The white man has his outlaws and so do we,” Hevo told her. “That is the nature of all tribes. Our people have good and bad among them and so do theirs. At least you saw this truth when you woke up from your dream. I did not.”
Namid moved as if she wan
ted to silence him again, but instead caressed his mouth and writhed against his chest. “The Army killed so many of our people, so many of our friends. You were angry and Spirit Bear’s words make sense to angry ears.”
As much as Hevo wanted to go along with that, he simply could not. He had seen how women captives were treated by Spirit Bear’s warriors. The favorites among them were kept chained like dogs and silenced by potent mixtures fed to them in every meal. Judging by the amount of symbols painted on Namid’s body from head to toe, she was very favored indeed. “What have they done to you?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Not as much as they think they have done. At least, not since I have awoken from my dream. Before I became accustomed to the Dreaming Dust, even I cannot remember. I prefer to keep it that way. Since then, I allow them to dress me as a slave but I do not act like one. When a warrior or Dirt Swimmer comes to me for pleasure, I make sure he is given a more potent mixture of Dreaming Dust which will affect even one who breathes it every day. That, along with the firewater that thieves and killers love so much, makes certain they are in no condition to pleasure themselves let alone a woman. When the fool awakes, I tell him what magnificent stallion he is and how weak I am after sharing my bed with him. It does not matter that he fell asleep before he could lay a hand on me.”
“And now? Will you set me free?”
“Not yet.” When he started to question her, she quickly added, “They are wary after discovering your horses so close to our camp. The warriors are scouting for others and the Dirt Swimmers crawl on their bellies like snakes peeking beneath every rock. Of all these terrible men, I think the Swimmers frighten me the most. They will crawl through fire and not make a sound if Spirit Bear asks them to.”
Hevo could feel a shudder working through her, and all he could do to calm her was stretch forward to nuzzle her with his cheek. “You should only worry if these monsters do not trouble you. My greatest shame is that I was once one of them. You must know that I rode with them freely. After the Dreaming Dust no longer twisted my thoughts, I followed Spirit Bear—”
“Because you were angry,” Namid quickly said. “I know why you did what you did, just as I know the man you are. That is why it was no surprise to me that you rode away. When you left, I was still not of my own mind. Otherwise, I would have followed you.”
Hevo remembered the hatred in her eyes when he’d asked her to leave with him. He could still feel her angry fists pounding against his chest followed by the cold spray when she’d spat on him and called him a traitor. Now, he regarded it as a blessing that she did not remember such things and he was not about to remind her of them.
She smiled, giving him further proof that she truly had no recollection of the indignities Spirit Bear’s concoctions had forced her to commit. “When I awoke,” she said, “part of me wanted to die here because I knew there was nothing left for me. Why would you return to this evil place knowing that even I was lost to you?”
“I did come back for you, Namid. I also came back to put an end to Spirit Bear.”
“He may be the chief among these men, but he is not the worst among them,” she said with a patience in her eyes that Hevo could not begin to understand. “Spirit Bear believes he is part of a righteous war against his enemies. He believes the ancestors killed by white men speak to him.”
“He is insane,” Hevo snarled.
“Yes, but he is just doing what he is supposed to do. A mad dog is supposed to attack what is near and froth at the mouth. A storm is supposed to lay waste to the land below it. And so Spirit Bear is doing what he does. The men who follow,” she added with a darkening expression, “follow him to their own ends. They kill and steal because they enjoy it. Spirit Bear may have a broken mind, but he is true to what he believes. The others believe in nothing. They enjoy bringing death to others and taking what they do not own. They are bloodthirsty criminals, every bit as bad as the white men who hunted our people just to cut off their scalps and sell them to whoever would pay.”
“That is why I have come back,” Hevo insisted. “That is why I must be set free.”
“And what of the man who was with you? It seems he does not call you friend.”
“He is a good man who has every right to be suspicious of me. I will free him and you will slip away from here so you are not hurt again.”
She shook her head. “They are watching for a fight now,” Namid whispered. “Soon, Spirit Bear will gather them and prepare to ride out on a hunting party.”
“Probably to kill the people I am trying to protect, and after that, more people will fall to this insane war.”
“When Spirit Bear gathers his braves, I can set you free and we can get to your friend that much easier. Until then . . .”
Hevo felt her hands busy themselves by peeling his buckskins down over his hips so she could reach inside them. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“You do not remember?”
“I do, but this is not the time.”
“Right now,” she said directly into his ear, “I am supposed to be convincing you to come back to Spirit Bear. I am supposed to convince you the way only I can. And if I do not think you will be convinced, I am supposed to poison your water and tell the braves to kill your friend. If the men nearby do not think I am doing what I am supposed to do, they will become suspicious.”
Her touch was familiar and became urgent as she found his growing erection. After lowering his pants enough for her to stroke every inch of him, she started tugging at her own sparse clothing. Namid was too hungry for him to waste time undressing fully. Instead, she pulled aside the loincloth beneath her skirt and guided him into her. Namid placed her hands upon his shoulders and eased herself down to take every inch of his rigid pole inside herself. She leaned her head back and didn’t try to stifle a moan of ecstasy.
Outside, a few gruff voices chuckled to one another and some footsteps moved closer the teepee. Hevo saw the flap pulled back, allowing one of the braves to peek inside. A warrior’s scarred face cracked into a vulgar smile before finally retreating outside again.
If Namid took any notice of the leering face, she gave no indication. Her eyes remained closed and her hands had become busy peeling away the clothes from her body. The tunic she wore was pulled off and cast aside, revealing smooth, dark skin covered in the spiral symbols of Spirit Bear’s tribe. She ran her hands over herself, perhaps imagining they were Hevo’s, paying special attention to the hard nipples capping her pert little breasts. She ground her hips against him, moving his cock within her body until it hit the exact spot she wanted.
Hevo struggled against the ropes binding his arms and legs. Although he was aware that one of the braves could look in on them again, he still wanted to break free of the ropes just so he could get his hands on his woman. Before he could get too frustrated, he felt her touch graze against his chest and stomach. She’d opened her eyes and was massaging the flesh above his heart while repositioning herself on top of him.
She brought her legs up close so they could be bent and spread open. Squatting on top of him while holding on to his shoulders, she rode him in slow, even motions. Hevo opened his eyes, no longer struggling to break from the ropes but enjoying the wetness of her body and the way she enveloped him. When Namid leaned forward, he was able to place his mouth upon her breasts and suck on her nipples the way he knew she liked.
Some things would never change, no matter how much time had passed or how much hardship had been endured. Namid trembled when she felt her lover’s lips, prompting her to ride him even harder than before. Finally, she arched her back and tossed her hair while letting out a shuddering moan. Hevo leaned against the post, grinding his hips in time to her rhythm. When he felt his cock slip out of her, he found himself struggling once more to break free and take control.
Namid watched him with a wicked little smile. She stood up an
d looked down at him, slowly gyrating to a song that she softly hummed at the back of her throat. Although the song could be mistaken for one of many chants, Hevo knew it to be one that she’d sung for him when their lives were simpler and they knew nothing of the troubles beyond their native lands. He wanted to sing with her as well, but found he was too distracted by the dance she performed for him.
Namid swayed her hips and allowed her hands to roam over her body, smiling as though he were the one caressing her stomach, rubbing her breasts, sliding along her hips, and easing between her thighs. She turned around and leaned her head back while stretching her arms up toward the highest point of the teepee. Just as she was about to bump against the interior of the shelter, she lowered herself down again. Although she straddled him once more, she did not squat on top of him as before. This time, she turned around so Hevo could drink in the sight of her smooth back and tight little buttocks as she went down on all fours and teased him with more carnal gyrations.
She kept her back to him, rubbing her slick pussy lips against the tip of his penis until he parted her and slipped inside. She reached between her legs to stroke him while easing him all the way inside and then stretched both arms out to claw at the dirt while rocking her entire body back and forth.
From his perspective, Hevo was treated to the delicious view of her backside as it bobbed up and down. The symbols painted along her spine and across her shoulder blades writhed as she continued to twist and stretch to the rhythm of their song. Since he could not grab her hips in his hands, Hevo did the next best thing and pumped into her. His feet pressed against the dirt floor to give him leverage so he could pound his cock between her legs with growing intensity.
When he touched the sensitive spot inside her, Namid held her position and turned her head around to look back at him. Sweat glistened upon her brow and her voice started to tremble. Finally, she could no longer hold back. She crawled forward, stood up, and drew the dagger that still hung from the thin strip of leather wrapped around her waist. Climbing on top of him, she reached around and cut the ropes encircling Hevo’s hands.
