Forbidden Ecstasy

by Janelle Taylor

  “Where is the pain, Alisha?” he asked firmly as he handed her the water skin. After she had sipped some of the water, he covered her with a blanket. His jet eyes bored into her jade ones, demanding the truth.

  She flushed a deep crimson and hastily looked away from his close scrutiny. In rising embarrassment she stammered, “It’s… personal.”

  “Pain isn’t personal, Alisha! Tell me!” he almost shouted in exasperation, mistaking the reason for her reluctance to tell him what she considered the problem.

  She angrily met his glare and stated matter-of-factly, “It has to do with a woman’s monthly problems! Satisfied, nosey?”

  He studied her ashen face as well as her last words. “Do you always become this ill every month?” he curiously inquired as if he were her doctor.

  Her eyes flew open wide in astonishment. She flushed an even deeper red at his boldness. Reading the great concern in his eyes, realizing that he was only trying to help her, she gradually calmed down. She remarked modestly, “No, I don’t.”

  “Is this the first time? Any other problems?” he pressed, somehow suspecting that she was still hiding something from him. Alertly noting the frightened and ashamed look which flickered across her features, he knew that he was correct.

  “Please, Powchutu,” she entreated him. “This is most embarrassing. It’s private. From what I’ve seen, such pain isn’t uncommon in some women. I’m certain it will be gone in a day or so. Can’t we just continue on downriver? I can’t hurt any less in the canoe than lying here,” she reasoned.

  “You can be more comfortable here. What other problems are you having?” he asked, utterly ignoring her claims of privacy and modesty. “We’re not leaving until you tell me everything. Everything, Alisha,” he stressed.

  Observing his fierce determination, she sighed heavily and petulantly. She reluctantly complied with his orders to confess. “All right, you win. For the last few days I’ve been having dull pains about here.” She pointed to her pelvic area as she continued, “They come and go, mostly dull, sometimes sharp like earlier. I’ve had some nausea during the early morning hours, but it’s probably from the continual movement of riding. Sort of like mal-demer,” she suggested. At his confused look, she clarified, “Seasickness. Many people become ill from constant motion.”

  “Besides the nausea and pains, what else?”

  She caught the subtle change in his expression and tone of voice, but did not understand the reason. “What do you mean, what else? That’s enough, isn’t it?”

  He glared her down, forcing her to give in to his command. “I have been extremely sleepy and tired. We have been travelling fast and hard these past weeks. That’s all, Slave driver! End of confession. End of talk. Now, let’s get moving before we have to spend the entire winter right here.”

  “Not so fast. One last question,” he stated in a curious tone. “When was the last time you had your… monthly?” he inquired, using her word for the lack of a better one. She would never know how much he dreaded her answer, nor how much anguish it would require in order to relate his growing suspicions.

  She gaped at him in stunned silence for a long time, wondering why he would ask such a brash question. “What does that have to do with anything?” she naively exclaimed.

  He met her guileless gaze and carefully replied in a slow and even tone so as to not overly frighten her. “Late monthlies, morning nausea, sleepiness, tension, and discomfort in that area of a woman’s body usually mean only one thing, Alisha.”

  She pondered his words for a short time, recalling that it had been many weeks since her last cycle. She could be mistaken, for she had no way of keeping track of time. Within moments, the truth abruptly came to her: her last cycle had come before her rescue and trip to Fort Pierre. Her befuddled brain argued against that possibility, for her tormenting sojourn at Fort Pierre had been sometime back in August. This was mid-November; that would add up to many months of missed cycles. She instinctively knew that this was unnatural.

  Powchutu was keenly studying her changing reactions as she was slowly reasoning out her puzzlement. She kept going over the list of symptoms and analyzing them. The truth struck her like a thunderbolt out of a clear blue sky. She gradually whitened as the numerous facts added up to his same conclusion: pregnancy. With this new fact to add to the list, she hurriedly analyzed her problem once more; there could be no error or miscalculation.

  She looked up to find him intently watching her. “You already know, don’t you?” was all she had to say.

  “You’re carrying Gray Eagle’s child,” he spoke her fears aloud. “Do you know how far along you are? Any guess at all?” His voice was low and even, concealing the impact of this startling news upon him.

  His eyes glued to her face; his ears became fully alert. In his heart he knew that she would never be free of Gray Eagle now. She would always have his child to remind her of him.

  It was a cruel twist of fate. Suddenly another fact hit him: Gray Eagle was alive within his child. It was possible that the Great Spirit had planned things this way; perhaps he was allowing Gray Eagle to make some payment for his past evil deeds. His dead spirit could make amends for his past crimes; his son could make a newer and better man than he was.

  Many times it was believed by the Indians that the Great Spirit sent a dead warrior back to earth in another form in order to earn his place in the heavens or to pay for past deeds of cowardice and cruelty. Powchutu’s heart lightened greatly as he viewed this event as forgiveness of his own crime. As he saw it, he had not completely destroyed the great warrior, for he still lived in his unborn child. His guilt vanished; his spirits soared.

  Another truth came to him. His heart quivered with new excitement and hope. Alisha would surely need a husband’s name for her child and for their protection. It was almost like a blessing in disguise. Seeing this complication as a new advantage to his own cause, he smiled cheerfully.

  “Why are you smiling? What am I going to do now? I know nothing about babies. Should I return to Gray Eagle and beg him to accept me for our child’s sake? Surely this will change his mind about revenge towards me?” Their child sparked hope in Alisha’s heart.

  “You cannot ever return to him!” Powchutu shouted before thinking clearly. He promptly regained control over himself and his wayward tongue. His wits were hastily assessing his new problem. A cunning idea came to him.

  “Gray Eagle would never accept your word that the child is his, even if he dared to claim a half-breed child as his own. Do you honestly think he would allow a half-breed son to lead the mighty Sioux? You have seen how he despised me for my mixed bloods. He viewed me as lower than the white man. You would only endanger your life and the life of your child. In his rage, he might slay you before you could explain your incredible return to him. Consider this: how would he view a son with green eyes and auburn hair? He would be unable to prove his position as father. He would always be suspicious and doubtful of you.” Powchutu warmed to the description and elaborated. “Far worse, Alisha, suppose the child favors your parents. How would you then convince him that the strange child is truly his?” he cruelly challenged, hoping to turn her thoughts from dreams of a return to the Sioux camp.

  “But the child is his!” she protested. “Surely Gray Eagle considered such an event since he forced me to sleep with him every night!” Powchutu winced. Alisha continued, “Besides, why would I return to his cruelty if I were lying about the child? If he knows anything at all about pregnancy, the mere timing of the child’s conception and birth would reveal the truth to him. I was carrying this child before I was taken to Fort Pierre. How can I simply leave here without even telling him the truth, without giving him a chance to either claim the child or to deny him?”

  “He would not believe you, Alisha.” Powchutu struggled to extinguish her hope. “No doubt he would claim it as one of the soldier’s at the fort, or perhaps as Brave Bear’s, or even as mine. How do you think he will feel if you returned to
him after fleeing with another man? He would be forced to slay you to hide the truth of his earlier deed. You must think of the child, Alisha, your child.”

  Before she could reason further with him, he added, “Remember all the women and children from your fortress? Do they still live? Do not over-estimate his happy reaction to the news about a child of his own,” he ominously warned. “He has not desired a son of his own before now. He has never married Chela or another. Why should he want a suspicious half-breed as his first son? Should he feel any more love or respect for his child than he does for its mother, his wife?”

  Alisha flinched at his cutting words, yet did not deny them. It was clear that she could not return with assured safety. It was also clear that she was very distressed and frightened by this unforeseen event.

  Powchutu calculated that he would allow her the time to adjust to her new predicament, then offer her marriage to him as the only solution. He walked around for a time, allowing her to deal with her warring emotions.

  Alisha wondered if this news would have made any difference in Gray Eagle’s decision to kill her. Could any man deny his own child, or even think to kill it? She fully recognized the real problem: he would not believe that the child was his. His hatred and cold bitterness against her and her people would not permit such a belief. So many unrelated thoughts bombarded her weary mind at once: penniless, orphaned, and pregnant—even worse, unmarried in the eyes of the white man.

  While going over her scanty options, she knew that she could not marry Powchutu now, for it did not seem right to saddle him with the child of a man that he hated deeply. There was another fact to consider: Gray Eagle would always be there between them in the form of his child, preventing forgetfulness and joy. It was as if Gray Eagle had insidiously found a way to remain in her life and heart forever. She angrily cursed his violent intrusion into her life that day long ago. How could she ever be free of him now?

  She fretted about the new burden that she might become to Powchutu. It had been difficult enough before now, but with her ill and pregnant… “I promise I’ll try not to be very much trouble for you, Powchutu,” she said. “I’m sorry about this complication. I swear to you that I did not know about it. I didn’t even suspect the truth. How can any woman be so naive and stupid?” she said in despair.

  Powchutu tenderly brushed away her tears. He smiled and said, “Do not worry, my love, for I will love and protect both of you. You cannot be blamed for this event. Things will work out just fine; wait and see. But for now, you must rest and eat well. It is not good to have such pains at this early time,” he said in a tone of sincere worry.

  She was utterly perplexed by his tranquil mood and encouraging words. “You aren’t angry with me? You’ll take care of us anyway? Gray Eagle’s child, too?”

  He caught the unmistakable softness of the words, “Gray Eagle’s child.” “Of course I will, Alisha. From this day forward, it is only your child. I will guard its life as I will your own. There is no problem I cannot fix or take care of,” he proudly boasted.

  She smiled at him and hugged him tightly. “What would I ever do without you, Powchutu?” she uttered in open relief.

  “Rest, love. We will press on tomorrow if you are better. If not, we’ll remain here for a few days. We need to make St. Louis before winter if we can. But there’s nothing for you to worry about. I will be at your side from now on. Nothing will ever harm you again.”

  After a light meal, Alisha slept fitfully throughout the cool night. As for Powchutu, he carefully watched over her every movement. He was grateful for the added warmth of the extra blankets from the Omaha traders, for this night was much chillier than any other had been. He could only hope and pray that Alisha would be well enough to continue their journey by morning. He could almost smell winter in the air; he could certainly read her clear messages upon the face of Mother Earth.

  He allowed Alisha to sleep until she awoke on her own. She gently chided him for doing so, knowing how many of their daylight hours upon the river had been sacrificed for her well-being. He grinned and played the dauntless hero before her, revelling in her gratitude and affection. She giggled and shook her head in mock exasperation; she playfully accused him of spoiling her too much.

  After a light breakfast, Powchutu packed their possessions back into the canoe. He insisted upon carrying her to the boat and gently placing her inside. She settled herself as comfortably as possible, then smiled warmly at him. He returned it, then winked at her. He agilely climbed into the other end of the canoe, and their trek resumed once more.

  As she lay slightly reclining in the canoe, Alisha feigned light slumber so that she could do some serious thinking. The night before, the mere thought of pregnancy had terrified her. But now that she had been given some time to adjust to this incredible truth, she was strangely relieved and ecstatically happy. In an unexplainable way, she was not totally losing her love, for she was carrying a vital part of him within her slim body. She, Alisha Williams, would give birth to the first-born son of the legendary warrior Gray Eagle. It was only just that she should be granted some reward for all her past sufferings and sacrifices. What could better replace a lost love than his own child, an inseparable part of them both?

  Alisha finally decided that this news did not really upset her at all. She admitted that she wanted this baby very much. She was certain that it would be hard to raise a child alone, but she would have Powchutu to help her. At that thought, she began to fret over how she would deal with his declaration of love and offer of marriage. Frankly she did not know what to say or to do. She decided that she had enough things to occupy her mind without looking for more. She would allow time and necessity to reveal what course of action she would take where he was concerned.

  The fact that she slightly resented any man taking Gray Eagle’s place as husband and father bothered her deeply. For certain, she could not permit this to happen until she was completely over him. The idea of a wifely submission to him or to any other man caused her blood to run cold. Yet, all she had to do to warm her very soul was to envision Gray Eagle’s smile, or to recall his passionate lovemaking, or to call to mind his husky voice whispering into her eager ear, or to picture his handsome face with those captivating eyes, or to bring to mind how it felt to touch him and to lie near him at night. He was such an all-consuming man. He was completely intoxicating. If not for the baby, she would now be in bodywracking tears. Her heart ached for her lost love; yet, it gradually mellowed with the joy of impending motherhood.

  Alisha silently thanked God for giving her a new reason to live and to love. Next to Gray Eagle, this was the best gift she could ever receive. She stirred just enough for Powchutu to realize that she was only resting, not sleeping. He began to entertain her with several songs that he had learned as a child. Her mind blanked out all her past worries and her present concerns. She lost herself to his mellow voice and sunny songs.

  After many hours upon the river, Powchutu decided to halt for a rest and to allow her to stretch her cramped legs. He headed the craft toward the nearest shore. Upon landing, he jumped out and tied up the canoe. He once again helped her out and carried her to a nearby section of dried grasses. This time, she permitted his gentle aid without a word. In fact, she liked the pampering that he was giving her. As she rested, he returned to the canoe to fetch water and food for their late afternoon meal.

  As they shared dried fruits and corn cakes, they chatted and laughed about nonsensical matters. It was soon obvious that Powchutu was taking longer than necessary to eat and to rest; she knew that this was solely for her own benefit. She finally told him that the pains had lessened to a dull ache, but that she did feel much better today. Although she was telling the truth, he looked skeptical and overly concerned.

  “You worry about me far too much,” she gently scolded him, her eyes simultaneously smiling her gratitude for his abundant help and kindness.

  “And how much is too much?” he teased playfully.

&nbs
p; “You know what I mean. It isn’t necessary to coddle me the entire way to St. Louis. We’re wasting a lot of time. I assure you that I’ve survived far worse times and conditions.”

  “But not while you were pregnant,” he argued.

  She laughed in open amusement. “Now who’s the naive one? If memory serves me correctly, you said I must be at least three months along. That would mean that I have gone through many things in this delicate condition. Would it not, my friend?” she teased him in return, gaiety dancing in her forest-green eyes.

  “I tell you what, Miss Williams. If by the time we…” He abruptly halted, cutting off the rest of his statement. He came to instant alert, eyes and ears strained for another warning of what he feared to be true. His entire body was tense and taut, his face impassive, his eyes pensive. He hardly breathed as he called on all his instinctive and learned senses to help him in this dark moment of peril.

  Chapter Five

  At the first tell-tale scent of what could only be white trappers, Powchutu silently signaled Alisha to be still. His complete concentration was on the danger at hand.

  A raspy voice yelled out, “Drop it, Injun! Ya don’t wants us to hurt yore woman, duz ya?”

  At Powchutu’s dauntless refusal to drop his knife or to lay aside his loaded bow, another voice called out, “Ya both dead if’n ya don’t do it fast, Injun.”

  Alisha’s panicked gaze sought out the location of the second man’s voice. It was clear that he was between them and the river; it was also evident that they were trapped between at least two crude men. “The gurl goes first,” he warned the hesitant Powchutu once more.

  Powchutu’s fathomless gaze read her anxious one. He was furious with himself for placing her in this dangerous position. It was too late to berate himself for moving so far from the water. At the time, it had seemed a good idea; one that would shield Alisha from the cold draft blowing across the river’s choppy surface. He had recently promised her that she would always be safe at his side. How could she ever trust his promise of protection again? Powchutu was filled with wordless fury.