Forbidden Ecstasy

by Janelle Taylor

  Bitter anger and fear flooded her at the possible truth of his words. She screamed, “Then I will go to his camp! I will know the whole truth from him! I will show his people that he lies! If you speak the truth, he will be dishonored. He will pay for his lies and betrayal!”

  “To what end, Alisha? To both our deaths, for I could not allow you to return to him alone. I love you, Alisha. I cannot bear to see you hurt again. I beg you; let me take you far away from here. Forget him; he is danger and death for you. Surely you have become aware of the great differences between you? How long could you survive as the willing captive of a warrior such as he? How long could you be his slave, waiting upon him, wondering when his next attempt upon your life would come? Tell me, Alisha, is this how you wish to spend the rest of your life? You are white; he is Indian.”

  “Swear to me you speak the truth. Swear to me that he will not return here for me,” she desperately asked.

  Powchutu met her steady gaze and answered so honestly that she could not doubt his words any longer. “He will never return here for you, Alisha; this I swear upon my life and my honor. I cannot change reality. I cannot ease your pain. But he is lost to you forever. I swear these things to you. Have you any reason to doubt my honesty or my love for you?” he asked.

  Alisha was deathly silent. Powchutu’s ruse had worked.

  Suddenly, an agonized scream torn from Alisha’s very heart and soul seared his innermost conscience. How he wished that Gray Eagle could ride up that very moment to comfort the savage wounds which he had just inflicted upon her! In his wildest imagination, he had not considered it would be this terrible for her to bear. The depth of her love for the slain warrior was emblazoned upon his mind for all time. His fierce resolve was temporarily weakened, but he could not call back the sands of time.

  Great Spirit, forgive me, he mentally prayed, for I did not know the love they shared could be real. Help me to find some way to ease this pain I have given to her. I would give my own life to have the one of Gray Eagle back again….

  The heat of the sun beating down upon his back reminded him of his deeds, warning him of the need for expediency. He approached the tree where Alisha was standing with her forehead against its smooth bark. She had cried until there were no more tears. Her shoulders drooped from the heavy burden Powchutu had just placed upon them. There was an aching emptiness within her. Once more she had been brutally scarred by her forbidden love and her defiant heart.

  He touched her arm and called her name. She did not reply. “We must go, Alisha. He might return to make certain you are…”

  “Don’t say it!” she shouted at him in a strange voice that he did not recognize. In a solemn tone she remarked, “He has won this final battle between us, for I am as good as dead.”

  Powchutu roughly seized her by the shoulders and shook her soundly. “I won’t let you give up or die, Alisha. There is still hope for you. He will not win this time. We will flee this evil place and find happiness and safety somewhere else.” His one hope lay in replacing her sadness with anger and determination. He needed to convince her that her survival would thwart Gray Eagle’s hatred.

  She looked past caring or listening. She said hollowly, “What does it matter now, Powchutu? Where can I go from here? It will only be as it was at Fort Pierre. They will scorn me and despise me. They will taunt me and torment me. I cannot live through such shame and contempt again. I do not belong with the white man any longer; they have already proven this to me. To them, I am white trash, the ex-squaw of the most feared and most hated warrior to ever live. To them, I am soiled beyond redemption.”

  “Where we will go, no one will know the truth about either of us. No one will learn of your life with him. They will not know I am a half-breed scout. We can make a fresh start there. We’ll be free. We’ll be happy and safe, Alisha. I promise you these things,” he vowed earnestly.

  She gazed out across the plains, wondering if her true fate lay in that obscure direction. It seemed as if the sun and sand were calling out to her, urging her to follow this new destiny outlined by her friend. In her mind, the elements themselves cried out, “Betrayal!” as if in fiery unison. Clearly Gray Eagle was gone; their love was voided. He had withdrawn it forevermore, never to embrace her in love again. The blazing sun burned its message of defeat into her troubled mind; it mocked her love and her suffering. It chided her folly, her naiveté, and her rosy dreams. She felt as if all the rays of dazzling sunlight were concentrated into a single beam, piercing her defenseless heart and mind, enflaming and destroying all the good things there had been between them, leaving only the sooty ashes of a once precious love.

  As Alisha looked aimlessly in all directions, she refused to think about this treacherous news. She felt as barren and deserted as the vast wasteland before her blurred vision. The one question which kept intruding into her stunned mind was, why? Without any warning, the time for turning back had come. Her heart was rent by this loss, this needless sacrifice, this cruel betrayal. It had ended between them just as suddenly, mysteriously, and painfully as it had begun that day long ago in her fortress. Her mind pleaded for respite; her warring heart rebelled, even knowing that it was over.

  She stared at the cerulean sky, accusing the Fates of coercing her into saying her final, heart-rending farewell to this savage land and to her one and only love. In everincreasing anguish, she realized just how much torment was involved in saying a last farewell. Still, she knew that it must somehow be done.

  If she refused to leave here, then so would Powchutu. With all she had lost, she could not be responsible for his death. If Gray Eagle did not love her or want her, there was no way she could change his mind or his heart. To taste the forbidden fruits of Gray Eagle’s total love and acceptance and then to have them cruelly snatched from her seemed an agony too great to bear. But bear it she must, if only for her friend Powchutu. Now, he was all she had left.

  She raised her puffy, red-streaked eyes to meet his concerned ones. She smiled faintly. “How can I argue with such logic and truth? If not for you, I would have died here, and no one would have known or cared. I owe you my life and gratitude once more.”

  She lifted her graceful hand and lovingly caressed his tanned cheek. “When I was brought to Fort Pierre after that so-called rescue by Jeffery and his troop, you were the only one who helped me and comforted me. You were the only one who understood me, who didn’t judge me stained for life. No one sincerely accepted me for myself or even gave me an honest chance, except you. You were the only one I could talk to freely and openly. Then when you came to Black Cloud’s village to explain matters to me, it was just the same as before. You have risked your life to help me. I think perhaps the real Alisha has only been known and seen by you. Everyone else tries to force me to be someone else, but not you. There is no way to repay you for all you have done for me; no words can express my appreciation and my affection. If Gray Eagle does not love me or want me, then I cannot remain here within the reach of his hatred and cruelty.”

  She placed her small hand upon his thudding heart and reluctantly acquiesced. “Wherever you say to go, I will come with you.”

  Powchutu beamed with happiness. In an emotionfilled tone he declared, “I will lead you to freedom, love, and safety. No one will ever hurt you again. If I could change things for you, I would gladly do so. I cannot. It is too late.”

  Unaware of the reason for his regret and sadness, Alisha smiled weakly and said, “You have done more for me than anyone has. What more could I ask for in a friend? We must hurry before he seeks more revenge upon us.”

  The half-breed led her to the horses not far away and helped her to mount. He prodded his horse into an easy gait; she obediently followed. Before the sun had topped the distant mountain peaks, they were on their way to a new life, a life that had been paid for with great suffering and traitorous bloodshed.

  Chapter Four

  Those first days along the trail passed in a blur of speed and anguish for Alish
a. The changing scenery rushed swiftly past her vision, as swiftly as if she were trapped inside a runaway carriage which was hurtling toward oblivion. Much of the terrain was dangerous and arduous. They tried to cover at least twenty to thirty miles each day. But the unpredictable weather and treacherous footing would frequently halt their progress.

  Powchutu told Alisha that it was about the first of November, for she had lost count of time many months ago when she had been captured by Gray Eagle. Only the dying landscape reminded her of the approaching winter, something that she never wanted to survive out in the open again. She could still recall that bitter, demanding one on her way West. Luckily the temperatures had dipped no lower than fifty degrees so far, and “Jack Frost” had yet to make his first appearance.

  Powchutu hoped that they could reach Fort St. Louis before the snows set in for the season. He informed her that if they continued their present pace, they would reach their destination before December. Somehow Alisha could not imagine keeping the same grueling pace for that many weeks. As it was, they travelled most of the night and much of the day. Powchutu claimed that such a plan of action would lessen their chances of capture or discovery, for most Indians would not hunt or travel at night.

  Avoiding as much daylight travel as possible and by using the river as a guide, he hoped to establish a good lead on anyone who might follow after them. Most of the time, they journeyed along the banks of the Missouri River, clinging closely to its eroded edges. They would occasionally ride for miles and miles in the shallows; other times, they would continually criss-cross the wide fords to conceal their trail. They would cautiously avoid the soft, mushy areas which could leave a track that even a child could follow.

  Sometimes travel was slower than usual when he would demand that they walk the horses over large rock beds or travel over a high bluff. He used every trick of the trail that he knew in order to make their tracks obscure. He was always very alert and cunning. He was quick to avoid the camps of the Brule and Crow situated along the riverbanks.

  Even in her frequent unmindful state, Alisha still realized that she lacked the cunning, courage, stamina, and skill to make such a trip by herself. It made her aware of her vulnerability and helplessness as a woman. She bitterly admitted to herself that she could not have succeeded in her last attempt to escape from Gray Eagle’s village and his loving torment.

  Although the journey was exceedingly difficult for her, she desperately needed this demanding pace to drive her into a state of total fatigue, insuring her of dreamless sleep when they stopped for breaks. As they rode along in necessary silence, she would force her thoughts on any subject that she could call forth; she was determined not to think about Gray Eagle or the life that she was leaving behind. Perhaps it had been helpful that her first days had passed in a state of shock and fatigue. Later, she tried to block out all reminders of her painful sojourn in her husband’s domain.

  When the pain did occasionally break through her tight rein, Powchutu would comfort her. Along the way, they grew closer and closer. He could not help but believe that he would eventually win her heart. She, in turn, could only, hope and pray that one day this terrible pain and emptiness would leave her.

  One day as they rested in a tree-lined canyon, she sighed and said to Powchutu, “If only Gray Eagle had betrayed me in person, then I would find it easier to deal with the loss of his love. It was so unlike him to be such a coward. I wonder why he did not wish to see the effect of his cruel joke. Do you suppose he ever went back to make certain that I was dead?” She murmured in a melancholy voice, not really expecting an answer.

  Powchutu hid his look of guilt from her misty eyes. Her pensive mood bothered him. It told him that she was still thinking about the warrior too often. He quelled his feeling of resentment and replied in an emotionless tone, “Does it really matter now, Alisha? The deed is done. We cannot change things now. You should not continue to dwell upon these unanswerable questions; they only serve to refresh the pain. We must think of our safety and our new life. Gray Eagle is dead to you; accept this.” He struggled to stifle his bitter jealousy of his enemy and reached out to caress Alisha’s face.

  “It is far easier to say than to do, my friend,” Alisha replied, looking directly into Powchutu’s eyes. “Have you never loved or needed someone so much that it hurts deeply not to have him? Have you ever been betrayed and deceived in the way that I was? I can tell you; it hurts far less to have your heart cut from your body with a dull knife. I want to forget him; I need to forget him. Yet, it is not that simple. God, how I wish it were!”

  “In time you will cease to even remember his name or how he looked,” Alisha’s friend reassured her. “But this can happen only if you permit it. As long as you continue to call him to mind and to ponder upon his past deeds, you will never be able to forget him,” he impatiently advised her.

  She met his unreadable gaze. “I do try to keep him off my mind, Powchutu. But I cannot control my dreams. Neither can I halt the times he sneaks into my unwary thoughts like some deadly thief in the dark of night. If there was only some magic potion which could destroy all those remembrances, then I would readily drink it this very minute,” she declared earnestly.

  “In time, Alisha, you will forget.”

  “Time? Are you so certain that it is the all-powerful anodyne that it is claimed to be?” she remarked in a slightly sarcastic voice. Angry lights danced brightly in her green eyes.

  “Get some rest, Alisha. You’re too tired to be reasonable or cheerful,” he teased her, hoping to wipe off that tight, feigned smile from her soft lips. Succeeding, they both slept for a few hours.

  In the beginning, they had headed due east; now, they were slightly slanting toward the south. Powchutu told her that they could follow the Missouri River all the way into St. Louis. Staying close to the riverbank allowed them many gains: water, food, protection, and direction. By the end of the second week, they were both accustomed to the strenuous travelling. Their bodies lost their stiffness and soreness, making progress swifter and easier.

  Powchutu gradually increased his alert as they came nearer to the territories of the Santee and the Yankton, a member of the Seven Council Fires of the Sioux. He was extra careful about concealing his and Alisha’s trail. Their pace was naturally slowed by this added caution and care. About halfway through the Sioux lands, he spied a half-destroyed Conestoga wagon. He hastily motioned Alisha back into the concealing thickets so that he could check out this strange matter.

  “Stay here and don’t make a sound,” he whispered in her ear. “Strange to find one single wagon out here alone… I wonder why the Indians didn’t burn it. Could be some kind of trap. Still, we need to pass this way or lose too much time. If anything goes wrong, stay hidden until…”

  Shock registered upon her pale face. Her eyes grew wide and alarmed. She interrupted him, “You mean there could be some hidden danger out there? Don’t go! We’ll wait right here until dark, then sneak past it. Please,” she desperately entreated him.

  He smiled with pleasure at the sight of her concern for his safety. “I want to check inside the wagon. Could be something there we can use later.”

  “Not if it’s dangerous for you,” she argued adamantly.

  “I’ll be just fine, Alisha. Don’t worry about me. I promise to be very careful. I didn’t mean to frighten you this much. I was only warning you to stay hidden, just in case of an unexpected emergency.” He smiled warmly at her.

  “Powchutu,” she began, still not satisfied with his decision.

  He leaned forward and silenced her with a light kiss upon her lips. He then assured her, “I’ll be right back.”

  Alisha fearfully watched him move from tree to tree until it was necessary to enter the open to approach the covered wagon. She held her breath in frightened anticipation. Powchutu circled the wagon, curiously peering inside at different openings in the torn canvas covering. Suddenly he jumped up on the back end and disappeared inside.

 
; Time seemed to cease as she frantically awaited his return. At last he glanced out and looked all around. Deciding it was clear and safe, he leaped down to the tawny grass and headed back in her direction. Without waiting for him to reach her hiding place, she ran out to meet him halfway. Her slender arms encircled his narrow waist, and she hugged him fiercely. Tears of relief streamed down her flushed cheeks.

  “You stayed inside too long!” she wept.

  Laughing merrily, he scooped her up in his powerful arms and swung her around several times. He dropped down onto the withering, golden grasses with her on his lap. Without regard for their dangerous surroundings, they both began to laugh and to playfully scuffle. They were like two, small children just dismissed from school for the carefree summer. For the first time since their escape, they completely relaxed their guard—and their platonic relationship. They simply revelled in their freedom and in their touch.

  The sunset was intoxicating with its intermingled blues, pinks, grays, whites, and golds. Although the landscape was relenting to the demands of the imminent winter, it was doing so with majestic beauty. It shouted its message of the beauty of life-in-death. The evening birds had already begun their musical serenades to each other and to Mother Nature. Cicadas and tree frogs soon joined the abandoned merriment, creating a serene mood and romantic setting.

  As Powchutu rolled Alisha to her back and pinned her hands to the ground, his loving gaze locked with her teasing eyes. At the sight of her overwhelming beauty and artlessness, his jovial laughter instantly faded; his dark eyes probed hers for a hint of promise.

  Unable to restrain himself, he vowed in a husky voice, “I love you, Alisha. Marry me when we reach St. Louis.”

  Reading strong love and open desire in his gaze, Alisha became quiet and thoughtful. Then, astonished, she inquired innocently, “You mean you love me?”

  Comprehending the real meaning of her question, he smiled and replied, “With all my heart and soul, my love. I have loved you since that first day I saw you in Dr. Philsey’s quarters at Fort Pierre. But until now, I have had no right or chance to speak of my love for you. Each day that passes, I come to love you more and more. We are so much alike, you and I. We belong together, Alisha,” he said ardently. “I can love you more than any other man ever could. Will you marry me, Alisha?”