Tender Ecstasy

by Janelle Taylor

  One afternoon, Shalee was busy sewing new garments for this coming child. She determined her new son would have a special gown of carefully beaded leather to be first shown in. As she worked diligently and steadily upon the tiny garment, Rebecca left the tepee to gather wood to cook the evening meal. Deeply immersed in a fantasy about her lover, Rebecca did not take notice of the approach of Desert Flower and Little Tears, nor read their spiteful looks of malice.

  “Ku-wa, Witkowin,” Desert Flower offensively called her a whore, then ordered her to also gather her own supply of wood.

  Rebecca stared at the baneful Indian maiden, then shook her head. “Rebecca Shalee kaskapi. Hiya.” Having witnessed the amorous way these two girls eyed her master and the hostile manner in which they glared at her and treated her, Rebecca keenly surmised the motive for their fierce hatred. Still, she bravely refused theenvious girl’s commands, wisely declaring herself the captive of Shalee and not Bright Arrow.

  Desert Flower boldly approached Rebecca and slapped her before the white girl could react. Furious, but wise, Rebecca did not retaliate, much as she wanted to do so. There was enough conflict with her presence in Bright Arrow’s life without complicating it with charges of rebellion. She lifted her load of wood and turned to walk away.

  Desert Flower’s taunting laughter chafed her. Not knowing the meaning of the Indian girl’s next words, Rebecca remained ignorant of being called a coward and other vile names. Desert Flower came after her and spun her around, causing her to drop the sling of wood. Before Rebecca could stop herself, she shoved the hateful girl backwards.

  Desert Flower tumbled upon the hard ground. Blind fury washed over her. She jumped up and attacked Rebecca. Too stunned to respond quickly, Rebecca received many blows to her stomach, scratches upon her naked arms, stinging slaps to her face, and savage jerks upon her lengthy auburn curls. Inspired by this long-awaited moment of revenge, Little Tears promptly joined in.

  The two girls took turns holding Rebecca’s arms while the other one punched, pinched, and cursed the innocent captive. Rebecca struggled with all her might, but her diminutive frame lacked the strength to resist the power and determination of the larger foes. Just as Desert Flower drew a small knife from her sheath which was used to sever the stems of vegetables and spices, she sneered venomously, “I will carve your face so no man will ever look upon it again.”

  With a thundering shout, Bright Arrow flung himself into the supple, but sturdy, frame of Desert Flower. Knocking her to the ground, the small knife entered her left arm. She cried out in pain and surprise. Bright Arrow snatched her to her feet by a painful grip upon her braids. He ignored the blood flowing from her arm and the words spewing from her mouth. Within inches of her terrified face, he snarled, “If you ever touch her again, I will slay you where you stand, Desert Flower! You bring shame to yourself and to your father! Go! Never come near me again!”

  With that warning, he shoved her toward the path back to camp. She held her arm tightly to her side, then raced like the wind for her tepee. Bright Arrow whirled to confront the paralyzed Little Tears who had neither moved nor spoken. He assailed her in this same manner, then sent her running along behind the quickly disappearing Desert Flower.

  He focused his attention upon the white girl who had helplessly sunk to the ground after her release by Little Tears. He hurried to her side and knelt. He protectively gathered her in his embrace. Eyes filled with unleashed anger, concern, and love travelled her face and body to assess the injuries revealed there. He spoke soft and soothing words to her. Although she could not understand his words of apology and comfort, she comprehended his expressions.

  She snuggled into his strong arms and wept. His arms tightened around her and he grimaced at her anguish. He silently held her until she gained a small measure of control over her tears. “I did nothing wrong, Bright Arrow; I swear it. When she attacked me, I tried to ignore it and return to your tepee. She would not allow it. They began to beat me. I was too weak to stop them,” she hastily gave her side of the situation.

  Unable to reply to her words in English, he simply permitted her to understand his trust in her by his actions. He gently wiped away her tears and smiled into her tawny eyes. He lifted her light body and carried her back to his tepee. What did he care about the thoughts and eyes of others when his woman was injured?

  Upon entering his parents’ tepee, Shalee glanced up and paled. She quickly inquired about this confusing behavior. When Bright Arrow related the truth, to her, she winced in disbelief and concern. Together they tended her injuries. Shalee warned her son of the dangerous jealousy in Desert Flower and Little Tears. They jointly decided it would be best to bring this offensive act to the attention of the girls’ parents. No Indian had the right to punish or to order about the captive of another warrior. It was but an hour before both girls were severely reprimanded and punished.

  Publicly shamed, greater resentment filled the girls and their friends. The youthful group resolved to make Rebecca pay for their humiliation and to cause Bright Arrow such mental anguish and shame he would gladly part with his offensive white captive who had stolen Desert Flower’s rightful place.

  The Oglala group of five braves and four girls put their destructive plan into motion. They frequently allowed Bright Arrow to “accidentally” overhear their fears and mockery over his blindness and weakness over his white slave. They hinted of an evil spell which she must have cast over him. They spoke openly of doubting his strength of mind and body since both were ensnared by an enemy. The conflict of forbidden love raged bitterly and savagely within him. He would never join with Desert Flower!

  Yet, every time a path was opened for him to be rid of his torment, something altered his determined course. At times, he wished he had never cast eyes upon Rebecca! How long could he endure the taunts of his friends? Why didn’t he sell her or send her away? He knew why…

  With the pretense of repairing his weapons and making new arrows, Bright Arrow managed to remain in camp for those next two days. He made it a point to be casually strolling in the same area in which Rebecca worked. In the tepee, he also remained near her side.

  To give the lovers as much privacy as possible, Shalee used this time to visit other Indian wives, to spend time sewing and working with them, and for necessary exercise if she was to maintain her good health.

  In their solitude, the young lovers gravitated closer together. They spent many hours making love and enjoying the other’s company. Bright Arrow worked with Rebecca, teaching her his language. Each hour, her Oglala vocabulary increased. Yet, it did not grow quickly enough to permit very much conversation.

  On the second day, Bright Arrow followed Rebecca to the stream where she was heading to wash clothes. He sat down to restring his new bow. He deftly and silently worked with the taut leather thong to secure it to the supple bow. When Gray Fox called him away to discuss a secret, he laid the bow aside and unsuspectingly strolled into the forest with the other brave.

  In her concentration upon her chore at hand and on her warring emotions, Rebecca failed to note the cunning trick in progress behind her. The vile deed was completed without her knowledge…

  Soon, Bright Arrow returned, his mind in a turmoil over the incredible words spoken by Gray Fox. Had Gray Fox misunderstood the words of the other braves? Did they resent Rebecca’s position and presence so deeply they would actually vote against him as band-leader for as long as she remained with him? Could they be so consumed with hatred for her and disloyalty toward him? Could he endure such a loss of pride? Could he allow this difference of opinion to become a full-blown quarrel, to cause greater dissension, to force a choice between them and his captive? Was Rebecca worth that high price to keep her? He fumed as he realized his helplessness: an unfamiliar and haunting feeling. But how could he seek the truth when he had given Gray Fox his word of honor to hold his words between them? If others learned of Gray Fox’s treachery, how could he continue to report the others’ feelings as prom
ised? Then, there was the question of Gray Fox’s honor; he was as sly and cunning as his name implied.

  Even more distressing were the accusations against Rebecca. Were the girls lying about her conduct? How powerful were the forces of jealousy and hatred? From a short distance, he furtively observed the white girl kneeling by the water’s edge and washing his clothes. Had she actually flaunted her position as his woman before them? Did she provoke them by making faces at him and his parents when they were not looking? Did she truly glare at them in unsuppressed hatred when their backs were turned? Was she merely feigning love and obedience when around them, then openly revealing her hostility before the others to secretly and cunningly shame them? Did she think him so enchanted as to trust her every word? The charges were grave. But accurate? he fretted.

  He slowly returned to his previous place upon the grass to further reason upon these disturbing claims. When he lifted his bow, the two severed edges swayed with the movement of his action. In disbelief and fury, he gaped at the ruined weapon. Who had dared this unforgivable treachery? Not even a female member of the same family was permitted to touch a warrior’s weapons: it was believed powerful bad magic. There were no higher coups than to bravely steal the weapons, medicine pipe, or horse of an enemy.

  He jumped up to question Rebecca as to what person had committed this horrible deed during his absence. He halted beside her, his stormy gaze touching upon the butt of a knife which was only partially concealed by the pile of clothes near her. He leaned over and snatched the knife from its hiding place. He shuddered with the rage swiftly building within his normally controlled body. He glared into the quizzical face of the white girl.

  In utter confusion, Rebecca watched this inexplicable conduct. Just before verbally attacking her in English, he whirled to retrieve his now useless bow. He shook the bow with its dangling strands before her baffled gaze as he spewed forth a flurry of Oglala words which she could not comprehend.

  In turn, Rebecca stared at the bow, the knife which he had withdrawn from beneath the clothes, and the look of accusation in his ebony eyes. In horror, the clues quickly fell into place to form a frightful picture. It was obvious to her that someone had cruelly set her up while both she and Bright Arrow had their attention elsewhere!

  Shaking in alarm and dread, she shook her head in panic and denial of his apparent charge. “Hiya!” she blurted out, pointing to the knife and bow. She motioned to herself and shrieked, “Rebecca hiya…” Unable to think of an Oglala word of denial, she rushed on with, “I didn’t do that, Bright Arrow!. I swear it! I would never even touch your weapons! Toka ku-wa. Rebecca hiya wayaketo,” she declared, hoping the few words made some sense to him.

  He glared at her, his burning gaze searing her. Did she think him so stupid as to be blinded by her beauty and deceitful innocence? So, her meager defense was an enemy had come and she hadn’t seen or heard anything! Seeing the doubt in his stygian eyes, she began to cry.

  She wretchedly vowed, “I love you, Bright Arrow. I would never do something like that. No doubt my enemies, your friends, have arranged this evil trick!” she snapped in unleashed anger and torment. “Why do they hate me so much? Believe what you will, but I never touched those weapons. I’d be a fool to keep the knife with me!” she said fiercely.

  He dropped to his knees and seized her chin painfully, forcing her gaze to lock with his. His own probed hers with a glacial intensity and power which alarmed her. She murmured sadly as tears eased down her cheeks, “I didn’t do it, Bright Arrow. Don’t let them turn you against. me. Please…”

  He mentally cursed the lucid honesty and vivid anguish in her golden brown eyes and her strained tone of voice. He didn’t know what to believe. Could he kill her if she were innocent? Was he too enchanted to comprehend the truth? Would his friends go this far to tear her from his side? Even so, he could never bring himself to make such charges against them. Something drastic had to be done soon. Since he couldn’t choose her over his own people and rank, there really was no choice to be made.

  He stood up, then forcefully flung the bow across the narrow stream. He furiously tossed the offending knife as far downstream as his rage-taut body would permit. Without a word to her, he whirled and walked off.

  Rebecca watched his hasty retreat in fear and distress, for she instinctively comprehended some vital decision about her fate had just been made. She returned to her task, tears of anguish and betrayal steadily dropping into the water.

  On the third day, Bright Arrow rejoined the warriors to help them harass their enemies and to take his mind from his own troubles. His emotions in a vicious maelstrom, he needed time and distance to sort them out and to make his decision. This conflict could not go on; its toll was mounting every day. His eyes scanned the bruises still visible upon her face and arms from her confrontation with Little Tears and Desert Flower. Could he blame her for hating them and for wanting revenge? His reluctant decision imminent, he left without words, an embrace, or a kiss.

  Rebecca watched her love ride off, painfully aware things had been spoiled between them. Her somber gaze touched upon two girls nearby: Desert Flower and Chundra. Gleams of triumph and vengeful pleasure could be read upon their sneering faces. Rebecca stared at them, wanting to scream, “You’ve finally won, you witches!” She wanted to run to them and beat them soundly. She did neither. She lifted her head in feigned pride and serenity and smiled at them. She slowly turned to re-enter the tepee of Chief Gray Eagle.

  Battling the white enemy gave Bright Arrow the release he craved. But as viciously as the Indians attacked, the soldiers responded.

  The lengthy guard the Indians held upon the impregnable fort sapped their energy and dulled their senses. Each night as they camped nearby, several soldiers would find some way to leave the fort and to attack them in their sleep. No matter if a guard was posted, the success of these dauntless and crafty attacks continued. The strength of this white enemy was made known, for there appeared to be no effect from a denial of food or water: facts which puzzled and discontented many warriors.

  Two of the tribes relinquished their assigned tasks and returned to their villages to prepare for winter. He-Who-Walks-Like-The-Wolf exploded one day, “Evil spirits feed and water them! We have waited many moons for their defeat. The buffalo season has come. If we do not hunt them and prepare for winter, the white man will survive while we starve and freeze!”

  His words sounded true, but were vexing. Gray Eagle warned of the closeness to victory. Yet, he could not persuade the stubborn warriors to remain at their posts. There was dissension in many other warriors who had grown weary at this apparent failure to outmaneuver their enemies. Gray Eagle was forced to admit this commanding officer.was far more intelligent and admirable than the first one had been. Unable to retain the cohesiveness of this dissimilar group of tribes, he reluctantly cancelled the futile siege upon Fort Dakota: the action bringing a bitter taste to his mouth. The groups of sullen warriors headed toward their own camps to rest, to hunt, and to protect their villages and families. Another day, Gray Eagle swore, the white man would taste defeat at their hands!

  The three remaining tribes returned their attention to the same types of harassment they had used before their brothers deserted them. At first, the soldiers boasted of victory, savoring their triumph, misinterpreting it. The white men attacked and savagely murdered bands of exhausted warriors. Mutilated bodies were suspended from tree limbs as vivid warnings to other braves. Villages were attacked during the night or while warriors were out hunting. One of those tribes who had yielded defeat at the fort against Gray Eagle’s fervent warnings was nearly demolished. The death toll and wanton destruction mounted; the gruesome animosities rapidly increased. The hideous clash seemed endless, the sacrifices limitless and too frequent.

  Each side became more and more determined to resolve this deadly duel in his favor. A new plan formulated in the crafty mind of Gray Eagle. It was a perilous suggestion for any man who volunteered for this darin
g mission. But Gray Eagle knew it was the only hope for the survival of his people…

  Early that next morning, Gray Eagle sent Bright Arrow and three of his best warriors to the other villages to call for another war council, then the chief headed to his home. Within three days, chiefs and band leaders from the camp of the Cheyenne, Blackfoot, and Brule entered the Oglala village. When Bright Arrow, his warriors, and representatives from the Sisseton tribe did not arrive—pricklings of dire warning disquieted the Eagle’s mind and heart.

  By nightfall, it was apparent something was gravely amiss. Gray Eagle called together a small band of his prime warriors. They left in search of his son. They anxiously covered the territory between the Brule camp and the Sisseton village. Nothing. They slowly traced the trail from the Sisseton camp toward the Oglala one.

  Gray Eagle’s heart lurched wildly when they eventually discovered the horrifying evidence of a bloody confrontation with the Bluecoats. Markings of an ambush and fierce battle could be read upon the face of Makakin. The missing bodies of Bright Arrow and Chief Night Hawk told a bleak story which the mighty warrior refused to accept so quickly and easily. If those two warriors had escaped this vengeful attack, they would have returned to the Oglala camp by now. Since they had not and their bodies had not been found with these corpses, only two alternatives were left: their lifeless bodies had been stolen for some odious purpose or they had been captured. Each possibility was terrifying. Taking the Oglala and Sisseton bodies with them, they pensively returned to their village.

  As they soberly rode into camp, everyone turned out to view this new treachery. Shalee mutely listened, paled, then fainted. Surely her son was as good as dead. She feared to think of how the whites at the fort would eagerly torture him before slaying him. If they merely suspected his identity, that torture would bear greater brutality. She was brutally confronted with the precarious existence of an Indian. Suddenly it was not a battle between her people and Gray Eagle’s; it was a lethal conflict between her people and the whites.