Forbidden Ecstasy

by Janelle Taylor

  “How can I? I am already married to Gray Eagle,” she stated with guileless simplicity, feeling just as legally and morally bound to him as if they had been married in a church of her own faith instead of in an Indian village under the starry skies by the ceremonial chief.

  “Only under Indian law, not by the white man’s. He has no legal claim over you, nor any right to have you,” he informed her, trying not to allow his disappointment to show. His dream of her response was entirely different from the disappointing reality.

  Enlightenment filled her eyes, for she had not considered any of these facts before now. Slowly considering them, it still changed nothing to her. “Even so, I feel married to him in the eyes of God and in the laws of my own heart and conscience. There was a joining ceremony, much like any wedding. The vows were spoken between us; promises were made. ‘Til death, and I am still alive.”

  Desperately trying to conceal the impact of her words upon him, Powchutu feigned pensive thought. What he really wanted to do was to shake her and to shout that Gray Eagle was dead, freeing her from her stubborn belief that she was somehow, in some mysterious manner, still bound to him. Of course he could not, not without telling her the whole truth of his past deeds.

  Near exasperation, he cunningly attacked his dilemma in another way, “The life of a fierce warrior is dangerous, Alisha. For all we know, he could be dead right now. If not, then anytime in the near future. You will never know when his death might free you. As for those vows and promises you two exchanged in the Blackfoot camp, he has broken them first. He has already proven they mean nothing to him. The joining ceremony was only a farce, a cruel trick. Do not believe yourself bound to such a man. Do you plan to spend your life feeling obligated to a man who left you to die, left you only two days after marrying you and declaring his love for you? That fact alone frees you from any vow you made to him.” Powchutu argued his case passionately. “I would never betray you or desert you. I would love you more than life itself. Give me the chance to prove my love for you. Gray Eagle was unworthy of you and your love. I have freed you from his trap; you owe him nothing. Can’t you see this, Alisha?”

  He had chosen a terrible argument. Thoughts of Gray Eagle’s death brought deep pain and fear to Alisha. Even knowing what the warrior had done to her, knowing that it was absurd to still love and want him, and knowing that she owed him nothing still did not change things in her heart. She knew that Powchutu was right, but why did the truth have to continue slicing her heart into small and jagged pieces?

  She could find no words to adequately explain how she could still love her proven enemy, her own husband. She knew that she would feel like an adultress if she consented to marry another man, even one as kind and important to her as Powchutu. How could she explain things that she did not even understand? How could she interpret the mysterious, strong bond she felt toward her past lover?

  In truth, she feared that she would fall into Gray Eagle’s arms right that very moment if he should happen to walk up to her. If he but once kissed her in that breathstopping, soul-trembling way of his, she would forgive him anything. Becoming aware of the potent hold that he still had on her, she shuddered in despair. She fiercely chided her uncontrollable, traitorous mind and body; yet, she knew that she could not honestly deny this obsessive domination. She did not have to speak, for her brooding silence spoke for her.

  Powchutu struggled to dispel the rage and bitterness that he was feeling toward her, himself, and Gray Eagle. He was only half successful. The sharp edge to his commands and the iciness of his glare revealed more to her than he intended. He hastily got up and headed back to the wagon. He brusquely stated, “I was right. There are some things in the wagon we can use later. I’ll get them. You go back to the horses and wait for me.”

  She hurriedly jumped up and rushed after him, calling his name in near panic, “Powchutu! Wait! I didn’t mean to…”

  He whirled around to face her, his handsome features unreadable. “Forget it, Alisha. It looks as if my timing is still wrong. We’d best get out of here and pronto. It’ll be dark soon. We shouldn’t be out here in the open like this anyway. Stupid on my part.” With those biting words, he turned and moved forward a few more long strides.

  She ran and blocked his advancing path. She looked up into his inscrutable face, searching his eyes for understanding, silently pleading for forgiveness for her unintentional cruelty. All the help he had ever given her rushed to mind, and she said, “How can I forget it? I’ve obviously hurt you very deeply. I’m truly sorry. It’s just that…” She halted as she searched for the right words to expose her heart and soul to him in order to make him understand her rejection of him.

  At her hesitation, he filled in, “That you still love a man who has done all in his power to destroy you! That you cannot accept me as a substitute for the infamous, glorious Wanmdi Hota! Or perhaps that no man can ever fill his place in your heart. How can you choose hate over love, Alisha?”

  Tears brimmed in her emerald eyes at his cutting tone and furious expression. His sharp words clawed mercilessly at her already bruised emotions. With trembling chin and quivering lips, she sadly replied, “No, Powchutu, that is not what I was going to tell you. I was trying to find the right words to express my feelings. Revealing innermost thoughts and feelings to another person, even one as close and dear as you are to me, is like stripping naked in broad daylight. I was simply surprised by what you told me. I did not know what to say in return. I have never realized that you love me in this way. You’ve never told me before. You’ve always behaved as my brother. To suddenly hear that you love me as a woman and that you want to marry me, I was stunned. It took a while for this news to settle in.”

  Several teardrops escaped the corner of her eye and slowly traced a narrow path down one ashen cheek. She quickly brushed it away, as if it had somehow offended her. “As for your other words, they’re all true. I know better than anyone what Gray Eagle has done to me; you don’t have to remind me. I also know everything that you’ve done for me. If not for you, I wouldn’t care if I lived or died. You were the one who gave me the strength and courage to move on with my life. But love doesn’t die that quickly or easily. Just because someone says it is over it doesn’t simply vanish like the fog in the morning. I loved him, Powchutu, really loved him. God only knows why! If I could erase all these remaining feelings and all the pain that goes with them, then I would. But how can I? You said in time I would forget him. I need this time to conquer his hold over me. Please understand. Be patient with me just a little longer.”

  Powchutu realized that he had pushed her too fast. He admitted that she was correct. His anger melted at the sight of her sad, lovely face pleading with him. She did need more time, time she would spend with him. He would move more slowly and cautiously where she was concerned. He had all the time in the world, and she was surely worth courting. His taut body relaxed; his expression became warm and gentle.

  “I promise you I will never mention this again until you say the time is right. When you no longer carry any love for him in your heart, then I will marry you that very day. Purge him from your heart, Alisha, as he was purged from your life. You must not live in the shadow of an evil love.” He stroked one tear away from Alisha’s smooth cheek.

  “I know you’re right, Powchutu. I will honestly try. Perhaps one day you will become my new sunlight,” she teased him as the serious mood between them dissipated into a warm truce.

  Matters were settled between them for the present, and they went to the abandoned wagon and searched its remaining contents. All food and other staples had been previously hauled away. Yet, there were a few things which might be useful to them later: clothing, medicine, and a small amount of money which had been hidden beneath one of the bottom boards.

  “Why would they leave these things behind, Powchutu?” she curiously inquired.

  “The red man has no use for such garments or for the white man’s money. Evidently it was not known what th
e medicine was,” he replied.

  Alisha laughed at her mistakes. “Of course,” she agreed, holding a paisley print dress up to her shoulders. She giggled and remarked merrily, “If I eat all my vegetables and meat at dinner time, I just might fit into this lovely dress by winter.”

  Powchutu joined in on her obvious attempt at cheerfulness until the hoot of a nearby owl claimed his full attention. He shifted uneasily and studied the nearby lengthening shadows. “Let’s get out of here, Alisha. We’ve stayed too long as it is.”

  They quickly gathered anything which seemed usable. They returned to their horses and led them away. In need of alert and silence, they did not speak for the rest of the long night. By the time they found an adequate place to hide and to rest for part of the day, they were both exhausted. He handed her the water bag and some food from his possessions. Later, he unrolled both their sleeping mats and told her to get some sleep. She obeyed him immediately. As weary as he was, his keen senses remained alert even during his light slumber.

  Alisha was overjoyed when Powchutu finally announced that they were out of the Yankton territory. He grinned as he added that they were now entering the joint lands of the Pawnee, Winnebago, and the Omaha: all friendly to the white man, especially to the French. Alisha proudly remarked to him that she could speak French fluently, if it was ever called for.

  Powchutu seemed confident that they could trade their two horses for a canoe at the Omaha village, which was only a few more days from where they were. He felt that they could make faster time in a canoe. He studied the skies each morning, noting the color changes which were signs of the coming snows. He also hoped they could trade for some warmer blankets and fur wraps. The days had already grown shorter and cooler, with the temperatures reaching down into the forties during the night. He prayed that it would not be necessary to tell her how low they were getting on supplies.

  That very night, they suffered the coldness and dampness of the season’s first frost. It did not take long for their worn moccasins to become soaked and chill their feet, making walking difficult when the horses were too weary to carry them. That next morning, Powchutu pressed Alisha onward as soon as she had rested for only a few hours. She sensed his urgency against the weather. He warned her that a delay could find the rivers iced over and continued travel impossible, or at best, treacherous.

  Comprehending the danger of being caught out in the open during a blinding snow storm, Alisha forced herself to keep up with the swift and demanding pace that Powchutu was setting. She did not tell him about the pains within her lower stomach, nor of the extreme drowsiness which plagued her each day, nor of the nausea that she was now experiencing nearly every day. Knowing how he felt about her, she knew that he would halt his progress to allow her more time to rest. Her naive conclusions were that perhaps the constant riding was making her ill, or the excessive pace was overly fatiguing her, or that the tardiness of her monthly was causing those annoying pains.

  When they finally reached the Omaha village, she was greatly tempted to tell her friend about her problems. Seeing the apprehension upon his face, she did not. She reasoned that canoe travel would help her overcome these troubles. If she could only reach St. Louis, then she could see the doctor there. She would not burden Powchutu with this added worry unless it was completely unavoidable. Alisha suffered in silence.

  It only required a short time for Powchutu to trade their horses for a few supplies, extra blankets, and a bark canoe. It was fortunate for them that the Omaha hunters needed horses. Also, the Omaha were generous by nature to people who seemed in great distress or who had fallen upon hard times. Luckily, they traded frequently with other white men and assorted trappers. Knowing they could bargain with other white men for gold coins, the Omaha even accepted the money which the couple had discovered hidden in the deserted wagon. The canoe was gradually loaded by two friendly braves and a cheerful Powchutu.

  As they bartered and labored, Alisha was busily studying the Omaha village. This village, with its earthcovered or bark lodges which were larger than buffalo skin tepees, was unlike any camp that she had seen before. The grounds were cleared and cleaned. There were several large campfires which seemed to be shared for cooking by more than one family. A genial atmosphere was present in this village.

  She alertly noted many racks where hides had been stretched and attached for cleaning and curing. Even though it was chilly, barefoot and scantily clad children played near the lodges in small groups. The working women would only occasionally glance up from their chores to study the two new visitors. Their casual attitudes told her that visitors were a common sight here.

  Powchutu had previously explained the Omaha economy to her. It was based mainly on hunting and on trading the corn and vegetables which they cultivated. He had also eased her apprehensions with the pleasant news of Indians’ friendship with the white man and of their animosity with the Sioux. Still, Alisha remained within arm’s reach of Powchutu during their entire visit at the village.

  After a short rest, with food supplied by the chief himself, the sojourners were on their way once more. Several of the friendlier braves offered suggestions of safe places to rest, ways to avoid ice blocks around the edges of the river, and where to find other tribes who could give them supplies and food. They thanked the Omaha for their kindness and climbed into the laden canoe.

  Powchutu was slightly amused by the numerous offers which he had received for his woman. He jovially remarked that he just might consider one of them if she failed to obey his commands. Laughing in open happiness, he lifted the paddles, and their journey continued,

  Trying to conceal her discomfort behind humor, Alisha said in an unruffled tone, “If the price had been higher, my dear master, no doubt you would have accepted one of them. Thankfully I am necessary to you; I mean with my French tongue and all.”

  Her tone gradually became serious as she modestly inquired, “Do you think we can find some secret place to camp tonight? I think I would trade my soul for a bath. I’ve never felt so nasty in all my life. Even a small bath would be sheer heaven.”

  “You talk as if you haven’t had one for weeks,” he teased her lightly, recalling how fussy she was about cleanliness. “Seems the first time I met you, you were taking a bath.”

  Her eyes widened with indignation. She retorted, “I was not. I was already finished. Besides, we might not have met if I hadn’t ordered that bath in order to meet the illustrious Lieutenant Jeffery Gordon.” Not wishing to call to mind those terrible days at Fort Pierre, Alisha quickly changed the subject. “Other than a sponge-off here and there, I honestly haven’t bathed. Just imagine when we get to St. Louis and we can soak in a hot tub filled with lots of bubbles and a splash of perfume,” she tempted him in a flirtatious tone.

  “Together or separately?” he replied roguishly. He threw back his head and chuckled in amusement at her expression.

  She blushed a light pink and lowered her long lashes demurely. Gathering her daring, she playfully asserted, “Have you no shame or manners, young man? I mean, to wickedly suggest something so personal as mutual bathing.” Her saucy laughter gave way to unsuppressed giggles.

  “If I know the laws of white slavery, Little One, then I could command you to be at my side at all times. Could I not, my beautiful slave?” he challenged.

  Her enchanting eyes lifted to meet his amused ones. She lowered her silvery voice to a seductive whisper and murmured, “I tell you what….” An uncontrollable cry of pain escaped her colorless lips. She involuntarily clutched at her lower abdomen as she struggled to restrain her labored breathing.

  Powchutu instantly lowered his paddle and called out, “What’s wrong, Alisha? You’re white as snow.”

  When the sharp pain ceased, she replied in a shaky tone, “Probably something I ate at the Omaha camp.” She lied, knowing that the discomfort was getting worse. She had hoped that she could hold out until they made camp for the night, for their new travel plans called for movement in the
daytime and rest at night.

  They were too far downriver from the Omaha camp to turn back against the swift currents. Yet, they were also two more days’ journey from the next friendly village. Powchutu worriedly scanned her ashen face and the pain revealed in her eyes. It was obvious that she was not telling the truth. He could sense that she did not want to worry him or to halt their progress.

  “The truth, Alisha!” he demanded sternly, his tone almost angry. “How long have you been ill?”

  She tried to dispel her guilty expression before his very vision. It failed to trick him. “I will be just fine in a little while. Let’s make as much distance as possible before dark. Remember; winter’s coming?”

  Her ruse to divert his thoughts failed.

  “How long?” he repeated.

  Alisha nervously nibbled at her lower lip and sighed lightly, as if she were trying to decide upon a cunning answer. As she did so, the boat headed for the nearest shore. She glanced up at their rapid change of direction. She noted his intention.

  “We can’t stop now. It’s too early in the day. We must make better time before dark.” Her arguments fell upon deaf ears.

  Powchutu landed the boat and tied one end to the nearest tree trunk. He gently shoved the canoe around until he could easily reach her and lift her out. She argued that it was unnecessary to carry her like a baby. He ignored her claims and walked over to a large tree, placing her on the ground near its base. Without a word, he returned to the canoe for blankets, food and water. He was distressed to discover that their medicine pouch had either been lost or stolen back in the Omaha camp. He came back to her side and knelt down to check her over.