Tender Ecstasy

by Janelle Taylor

  Pleased with Bright Arrow’s crafty plans, the others cheered him on as he set out in pursuit of the bewitching girl who had cast her evil spell upon Standing Bear, a spell which had forced Bright Arrow into a deadly duel in order to break it. The Cheyenne warrior Red Cloud silently and bitterly observed this action before setting off upon a course of his own to alert his tribe and White Elk to the untimely death of Standing Bear, a man who might have become their next chief if not for the Oglala warrior Bright Arrow…

  Rebecca had been frantically running along the lush riverbank in her haste to flee the hostile Indians who had attacked them. Her racing heart had not slowed from its terrified pace since she had awakened to discover those same two braves doing fierce battle again, no doubt to decide her fate. She feared for the life of the one with bold yellow markings upon his handsome face, for he had saved her life twice in one day. She didn’t have to deliberate her fate in the brutal hands of that other brave, the one with jagged red lines streaked fiendishly across his harsh features in a menacing pattern.

  Suddenly realizing that she must be leaving a trail which even a child could follow, she gingerly stepped into the stream and hurried along as quickly as the cool, swirling water would permit. She halted just long enough to lift her soaked skirt and petticoat, hoping the removal of this tanging heaviness from around her legs would increase the distance between her and that ghastly sight behind. She was positive her enemies would come after her when her absence was discovered. Hopefully she could elude them until they either gave up their search or she happened upon some other whites.

  As time passed and she remained free, her hopes for escape and survival climbed and soared. Dusk was near; the spring air and the clear water had become chilly. Soon she would be forced to leave the stream and to halt for rest. Perhaps she would make it after all. Perhaps they didn’t care if she got away. What would they want with a scrawny girl who wasn’t even a woman yet? Perhaps they were too busy with the two buxom doxies and the goods in the wagons to…

  She froze in consternation, her gaze naked with fright and disbelief.

  No! It couldn’t be! But, it was…

  Chapter Two

  About twenty feet beyond Rebecca, the tenacious warrior with the yellow markings upon his impervious face soundlessly eased from the woods and gently prodded his magnificent stallion into the stream to block her path of escape! Claiming a position in the midst of the swirling water, he seemed to be calmly awaiting her approach. He majestically posed upon the broad back of the splendidly mottled horse against the diminishing light of the day. His stoic expression and impenetrable gaze disguised his intentions, revealing nothing more than that he was obviously the winner of the battle which she had fled hours ago. But hadn’t she known all along this robust warrior would be the victor…?

  She honestly didn’t know if she wanted to cry or to laugh, to flee his magnetism or to yield to his power. At least he was the one to come after her and not that odious brave. But that didn’t surprise her; her crazy elation did. Yet, she perceived something vaguely different about him this time. His carriage was commanding and arrogant. She tensed as she gradually comprehended what was disquieting her: a cold and forbidding air flowed from the Indian and chilled her heart more than the rippling waters did her feet. She could almost tangibly feel the resentment and leashed antagonism in his wintry mien. His intense stare and haughty manner were nothing like they had been that afternoon. Why did he seem so changed in only a few hours? Or had she been too enraptured by her first view of him to assess him accurately?

  The truth glared at her. He had slain the other brave who had boldly challenged for her. Now, he evidently blamed her for that battle and for his death! The night breeze blew his sooty hair; his jet eyes drilled into her frightened tawny ones. He kneed his huge beast and slowly came toward her. Paralyzed by fear and hypnotized by his gaze, she could not move or speak. She waited for her fate…

  He reined in his mount within two feet of her. Rebecca realized the horse did not seem winded. So, the Indian must have been dogging and watching her all afternoon, waiting for the right moment to confront her! She looked up at the man who was towering above her. Why didn’t he strike her dead? He nonchalantly positioned himself sideways upon the animal’s broad back and lazily rested his ankle upon his thigh. He placed his elbow upon his knee and propped his chin upon his balled fist. He stared down at her.

  What was he doing? Why was he just sitting there watching her? Why didn’t he kill her where she stood? Why didn’t he say anything?

  Time passed and still nothing happened. Whatever he was doing, it was getting darker and chillier. She turned away from him to head toward the bank, resigning herself to defeat. Her wet feet and legs and the soggy dress caused her to shiver. He nudged his horse around her, positioning them between her and the inviting bank, preventing her weary progress. She looked up at him in confusion. Nothing. There was no change in his expression or mood at all!

  She shrugged, reasoning he must want her to exit upon the other side. But when she attempted to do so, he again blocked her departure path. “What do you want with me?” she cried out in exasperation. “Which way do you want me to go? I know I cannot escape you now,” she wretchedly admitted to both of them.

  Still, nothing. She made several more attempts to leave the steadily cooling water, but he hindered each one. She was utterly baffled by his silence. The next time, she pretended to head one way until he moved in that direction, then she tried to quickly bolt in the other one. The weight of her soggy dress and the numbness of her feet denied Rebecca any agility and speed. She prayed she could clear the grassy bank and conceal herself amidst the trees and thick underbrush. But he was too quick and alert for her ploy.

  His horse hastily backed up and reared into the air. Startled, she slipped and fell forward into the water. She floundered and coughed as the water surrounded her. By the time she regained her balance, she was soaked from the chest down and her lengthy curls were dripping. She brushed the water from her face and gaped at him in fearful astonishment. He was not concerned at all! Was he trying to intimidate her or to torment her? He had certainly not been hostile or cruel that afternoon! Why should he blame her because that other brave had carelessly challenged his rank?

  Rebecca hugged her icy hands and wet arms around herself, trembling noticeably in fear and from cold. “Why are you doing this to me? If you wish to punish me or kill me, then why do you hesitate? Surely you have slain many whites in your time. What do you want from me?” she shouted at the silent, intrepid Indian who refused to answer her.

  More time passed. Her teeth began to chatter; tremors swept her slender body. A blue cast tinged her lips. Her feet and ankles ached from the numbing, biting chill of the stream. How she longed for her woolen cloak to keep out the night air.

  At last, tears glistened upon her thick, dark lashes and eased down her ashen cheeks. Did this Indian intend for her to remain thus all night? Why? Did he want her to grovel and beg? Did he wish to drive her insane from fear? This waiting was intolerable!

  When her fatigued mind and troubled body could take no more, she foolishly shoved upon the flank of his horse to move him aside. That was a reckless mistake, for Tasia instantly tried to bite her shoulder. Both Rebecca and Bright Arrow reacted immediately: She stumbled backwards to avoid those strong teeth, and he yanked upon the animal’s reins and commanded him to halt his intended attack.

  Rebecca helplessly toppled into the freezing water again. This time, she made no attempt to get up. She simply sat there and wept from mental and physical exhaustion. She ignored his quick reflexes and the fact he had prevented his horse from biting her. All she knew was how very tired, cold, and frightened she was.

  What did it matter anymore? Everyone was dead; she was alone, a prisoner. He was only torturing her before killing her. Why prolong the inevitable? Why not just end it swiftly?

  Yet, he did nothing! He just sat there watching her wallow in her misery and
helplessness. An idea came to her mind to force him into either ending it now or revealing his intentions. She would pretend to faint and fall into the water, face down. If he quickly came to her aid, she would know he meant to spare her life after her appropriate punishment for some unknown and innocent crime against him. If he did not, she would still have her answer…Either way, the truth would be out!

  She ceased her crying and stood up. She slowly took several steps toward the bank. When his horse moved before her line of vision, hysteria seized her. Instead of a pretentious swoon, she grabbed the brave’s dangling leg and yanked upon it with all of her might. Taken by surprise, the end result was natural.

  She fell backwards into the water with the astonished man upon her. She thrashed wildly until he was also soaked. Then, she audaciously yelled up at him, “Now you can see how the night air feels upon wet skin and clothes! You’re mean and curel; and I despise you!” she panted at him, brash courage dancing brightly within her lucid gaze. “Why did you seem so different this afternoon? I thought you so brave. I did not think you so cruel.”

  Bright Arrow’s first thought was to drown her that moment, a deadly idea which flashed vividly upon his scowling face and within his obsidian eyes. Yet, her tormented words changed his mind. Reading his initial reaction clearly, she shouted at him, “Go on and kill me! Do you think I care anymore? My family is dead. I have nothing and no one to live for. I would rather die than be your captive! I hate you! I hate you all!” she cried out in utter hopelessness and anguish. The countless months of bitterness and loneliness churned violently within her youthful body. This new torment was too much to add upon the stack of cruelties from the past two years. Dejected and heartbroken, she sobbed openly, subtly aware of his rigid control and curious change of mood.

  Her pain was like an open cut which stung him deeply. Her eyes betrayed that she had known great suffering and abuse many times. Perhaps she was too young and innocent to vent his ire and power upon. She was broken; what purpose would more punishment serve? Still, how could he show her kindness and leniency? How would she view them? How would she respond? As he reasoned upon this predicament and her bold act, he had the time to see the courage of her action. Without her knowledge, she had won a small measure of respect and fondness from him.

  He grinned. There were many ways to tame a wildcat with the claws of a she-bear, the cunning of a vixen, the daring of a she-wolf, and the antics of an otter!

  The area in which they had landed was shallow and did not completely cover Rebecca’s body. He was resting half-on her. His right knee was tightly wedged between her thighs, making movement impossible. As she struggled with him, he captured her flailing wrists and pinned them above her head against the stream bed. To keep the water from her ears and splashing over her face, she held her head up until her neck grew stiff and tired from the constant strain. When she tried to rest it upon her upper arms, he pulled them outward to prevent her comfort.

  Unable to hold her head up any longer, she lay back and relaxed her entire body upon the sandy bottom. What else could she do? The water filled her ears and blotted out all other sounds except the swift drumming of her heart—but at least her face remained above the surface.

  They remained this way for another spell. She was chilled to the bone, but he didn’t seem to be fazed at all by their surroundings! She was utterly mystified since he wasn’t even wearing a buckskin shirt! Unable to stop herself, she finally pleaded with him, “Please…it’s so cold. I’m sorry for what I did to you. I’m sorry we’re enemies. I’m sorry you killed the other brave,” she miserably confessed. “But I’m not sorry you won that fight with him!” she unwittingly added, then wished she hadn’t—until she assumed from his lack of response that he could not understand English.

  Rebecca frantically searched her memory for any word he might comprehend. “Lakota,” she finally murmured, hoping it truly meant friend.

  It drew a spontaneous reaction from Bright Arrow. He stared down at her in visible curiosity and surprise. “Lakota?” he skeptically questioned in a deep voice which stirred her heart.

  “Yes!” she quickly agreed in excitement. “Lakota…”

  His mocking laughter caused her radiant smile to instantly fade. Annoyed by the warming effect of her dazzling smile, he defensively sneered, “Hiya lakota. Wasichu! Hiya koda,” he calmly disclaimed any friendship, shaking his head to make certain she understood his rejection.

  Tears sparkled in her eyes. What now? she sadly wondered. With her hands imprisoned, she could not give the sign for peace which her father Joe Kenny had taught her. What did it matter? He probably wouldn’t understand her signing anyway. Even if he did, he would doubtlessly respond in a similar manner. It was hopeless, futile.

  Abruptly Bright Arrow stood up, then leaned over to gently pull her to her feet. He took her hand and led her over to the bank. He agilely stepped out of the stream and extended his hand to her. She warily glanced at it, up to his impassive face, and back at his beckoning hand. Her cold, trembling hand hesitantly slipped into his strong, warm one. With one powerful move, she was standing beside him upon the dewy grass. She could not imagine his next move…

  She uncontrollably shuddered as the night breeze played through her drenched hair, lightly caressed her wet flesh, and filtered through her saturated clothes. Her teeth chattered with cold. Water dripped from her auburn curls and tattered dress to puddle in her soaking shoes. She leaned over and removed them, then sat down to rub her feet to restore the circulation in them.

  Sighting some fallen branches, Rebecca jumped up to collect them. She approached Bright Arrow and softly entreated, “Could we make a fire to warm and dry us?” She anxiously awaited his reply. When he did not move, she piled the wood into the shape of a fire and pointed to it. “Fire?” she implored again. Her golden brown eyes were alluring and soft. Her gaze passed over his brawny physique which was smooth, hard, and lithe. His well-developed frame which bespoke energy, quickness, brute force, and excellent health.

  “Hiya,” came the concise answer she had dreaded. She assumed he was either unaffected by the damp chill or he was maliciously pretending he wasn’t.

  She was cold, frightened, and utterly miserable. Unbidden tears came forth again. She scolded her feminine weakness. She studied him just as intently as he was scrutinizing her. Unable to stop herself, she reached out to test his flesh for a chill. Puzzlement flooded her eyes. She exclaimed in enlightenment, “No wonder you don’t want a fire; you aren’t even cold! Naturally you don’t want me to be warm and dry. Why should you consider the feelings and comfort of your dangerous enemy?” she sarcastically sneered. “You certainly don’t want me to regain any strength. I just might overpower a fierce warrior, and we certainly can’t permit such an insult!”

  Frustrated and vexed, she shouted at him, “My God, you savage! What possible threat could I be to you? I’m no match for your strength! I can’t compete with your cunning and skills! I can’t even match your hatred and hostility! Kill me or leave me alone!” she stormed in anguish.

  She presented her back to him. How long could this deadly farce continue? She was totally exhausted and terrified. But fear and dread were exactly what he wanted! If he would only do or say something!

  Her father’s words of long ago sounded and resounded within her mind like echoes in a deep, dark canyon. She reflected upon his past advice; he had often spoken of the Indian’s contempt and pleasure derived from the pleas and fears of a white captive. Her father had known and befriended many Indians during his life. He had scouted for several wagon trains until he viewed the result of the animosities between the settlers, soldiers, and Indians. He had related many gruesome tales of his past adventures to her. He had halted that wellpaying job to settle down to his trapping and trading. He had met and married Mary O’Hara and had taken her to his beloved wilderness to share a life of serenity and hardships.

  As Rebecca was growing, he had taught her many things about this demanding wilde
rness, about its creatures, and about Indians. Yet, he had died from cholera when she was only fifteen: long before he could complete her education for surviving in this rugged and perilous land. That same illness had also taken her mother’s life as Mary had lovingly cared for her father. Rebecca’s life had been spared through the insight and stubbornness of her parents. She had been forced to live in a lean-to under the watchful eye and strict hand of Moses, her father’s best friend. After their deaths, she had not even been allowed to enter their cabin. Following her father’s strict orders, the cabin and all inside had been burned to prevent any further spread of that dreaded disease. Moses had then spirited her away to her mother’s uncle in St. Louis…only to endure a hellish existence as Jamie O’Hara’s slave, a harsh life for which the gentle and naive Rebecca Kenny was totally unprepared and ignorant.

  Mary O’Hara Kenny…her mother had been such a pure and vivacious soul. Mary’s untimely death had come when she was only fifteen years older than Rebecca was now. How very cruel life could be! A racking sadness gripped her heart as she recalled her mother’s muteness. Rebecca had often wondered what life would be like without words and songs. Yet, her mother’s handicap had consequently taught Rebecca sign language. Rebecca asked herself if she could have been as cheerful as her mother was under those same conditions. Would she have been withdrawn and embittered? For certain, her mother had been a very special woman…

  Weighing the possibility that this brave might comprehend her, she turned to face him again. Even after all this time, he had not moved or spoken. He just stood there watching her, unnerving her! He was utterly fearless and infuriatingly patient! Was there some point to his odd behavior? Was there something he expected of her?