Marcel nodded. “Did you still want your reading lessons?” she asked Raven.
“Of course,” he smiled, as he settled down beside her on the grass, leaning back against a log that they had placed in front of the fire, while Trapper Dan crawled under the wagon.
Marcel brought out her book, but this time, Raven put one arm around the back of her shoulders to give her support. Her hair was still down around her shoulders and it felt soft against the skin of his arm. She leaned her head back as she held the book up for both of them to read.
“Just read along with me,” Marcel said, as she began to read the pages slowly aloud.
The sound of Raven’s voice reading with her, had a soothing effect. She helped him as he stumbled through some of the words. She felt comfortable beside him, with the firelight flickering off of his face and causing his black hair to shimmer. She liked the feel of his free hand lightly caressing the top of her leg. She had pulled the hem of her skirt back down, and it felt strange not to have petticoats encumbering her. It felt rather indecent, though. However, earlier, she had been more than indecent, she thought.
The feel of Raven’s hand running smoothly over her leg on top of her skirt, causing the material to bunch, made it difficult for her to keep her concentration on the book. She felt her voice shaking slightly as she read. Each time Raven’s hand moved over her leg, more material was pushed up with the movement.
When Raven’s hand found its way beneath the material of her skirt, she stopped reading.
“Should you be doing this?” she asked softly. “I know nothing of the custom of Indians but this seems highly improper. It was improper earlier when you touched me like that.”
“The very smell of you compels me,” Raven admitted. “I must feel your soft skin under my fingers, but I don’t wish to offend you.”
“It’s just that what you did earlier caught me off guard. A man is not supposed to handle a woman the way you were handling me unless they are married,” she tried to school him.
“Then become my wife,” Raven stated, to her surprise.
“What?” she almost shrieked, starting to pull away. “I could never…”
Raven pulled her closer. “I know,” he mumbled. “I shouldn’t expect you… I can only hope.”
“Then you should probably refrain from what you are doing…” Marcel did not finish as she felt his caressing hand searching beneath her skirt, pushing her back onto the soft, green grass, finding what he longed for and proceeding to get lost in the feel of her.
“This isn’t right,” Marcel whispered, her breath starting to speed.
“Only it is what we both long for,” Raven accused. “It is what I have longed for from the first moment I saw ya through your window playing your piana. It is all I have dreamed of since that moment.”
“You can’t be serious,” Marcel murmured.
“More than serious,” Raven breathed, as his mouth came down on hers smothering the sound of her surprised murmur at his persuading touch.
Marcel seemed helpless to refuse what he was offering her, in spite of her fear that she would be condemned to hell if she let him proceed. Only her body was saying one thing while her brain was saying another. She feared her body was going to win out, in the end.
The feel of cool air hit Marcel’s shoulders as she found Raven was removing the top of her dress, looking for the softness of her breasts for his mouth to caress. Her body shivered, as his lips made a trail across her skin, working her dress free until her white skin glowed pink in the firelight.
Now, Raven sat back on his heels, admiring the look of her shivering skin, with the golden brown curls resting over her shoulders. He was longing to feel those soft shoulders under his lips and taste the sweetness of her. He leaned forward, his dark hair falling over her skin, trailing like waves of black silk threads, following the path of his seeking mouth down over each shoulder and then eagerly over soft breasts. His ever-seeking mouth was on a journey of discovery. A discovery he had not expected to find on their return home, he thought.
Every curve of her was a delight to his lips as they explored her charms. The murmur falling from her own lips prodded him on to create more sounds of pleasure emanating from her. His whole focus was to awaken her very soul and let his own soul mingle with hers through his satisfaction of attending to her every need.
He knew she was not quite aware of that need, only she had schooled him in reading and he planned to school her in something entirely different. Raven’s hands led the path for his lips to follow, preparing the way, causing Marcel to rise in anticipation of his touch, followed by the softness of his caressing lips. That alone would fill him enough to keep him from crossing the line, assuring she remain a virgin. A virgin bride was considered a treasured prize. If he ever convinced her to become his wife, he wanted her as the virgin she already was. Until then, he was intent on awakening the woman inside of her and letting his own needs remain unfulfilled until he persuaded her to become his permanently.
Marcel was softly crying out in pleasure. She was amazed at what the touch of Raven’s lips could bring to the surface. Her breath caught in her throat several times, and when she released it, Raven’s mouth was smothering hers. As her heart slowed, she gently pushed Raven away.
“You have seen all of me,” she murmured. “It is only right I see all of you,” she insisted.
Raven smiled. “Are you sure that is what you wish? I hear white women are offended by the sight of a man.”
“I don’t think the way you look would offend me,” Marcel whispered. “What you have done has emboldened me. I must look upon you too. I want to touch you the way you have been touching me.”
“That may not be wise. I do not wish to frighten you with the reality of what the touch of a woman can do to a man,” he warned.
“I will have to take that risk,” Marcel insisted.
Raven rolled to his side, and removed his breechcloth, watching Marcel’s eyes as the firelight reflected the shape of him in her eyes.
“Oh,” Marcel said in a small voice. Her fingers reached out toward him, causing Raven to close his eyes as the touch of the tips of her fingers shot bolts of desire through him. He tried to control his breath that was leaping like a galloping steed to catch up with his heart. He had not been touched by a woman in so long, he knew the slightest movement may be the undoing of him, considering his own caresses of Marcel had almost sent him over the edge already.
He could feel there was no holding back, so he leaned towards her and captured her lips beneath his own, letting her discover for herself what her touch could accomplish. She had already caused him to start surging forward, awaiting that rewarding release. Stopping it now was impossible. When it came, his body shuddered and his kiss turned to passion, taking Marcel by surprise, on both accounts. Now she was afraid she had done something unforgiving. She tried to pull away, but he stayed her hand and continued to worship her lips with his mouth.
Marcel could barely breathe when he finally lifted his head. “It is all right. Do not let this upset you,” Raven pleaded. “It is just the way a man is built and what happens when he is near a woman like this.”
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Marcel scolded.
“I know,” he responded, burying his head between her breasts, and then slowly beginning to kiss them. “Only I had to know the feel of you, and you begged for the feel of me. But you are right. This can’t continue. Not unless you are willing to become my wife.”
“I am going to Oregon,” Marcel stated. “I have a wagon full of my furniture to put in a house once I arrive and have it built. I can’t become the wife of an Indian. What would my brother say? What would everyone say? Why have you done this?”
Now Marcel was starting to become angry. Somehow he had seduced her into this. For all she knew, this could mean she had to become his wife. Only if no one ever discovered it he couldn’t force her hand.
“We shall pretend like this has never happened,�
�� she said, gathering up her clothes and hastily putting them on. “I will not be hoodwinked into marrying an Indian!”
Raven’s eyes flashed. He felt a lump in his throat at her words. She thought he was trying to trick her in some way. She had no feelings for him as a person. It had just been her curiosity! She merely wanted his and Trapper Dan’s protection and nothing more. Raven stiffened. He should never have touched her in the first place. What was he thinking? She was right. Taking her as a wife would lower her status among her own kind. He could never do that to her. She was too proud and too beautiful to bring down in front of her peers. Although he felt proud to be a Sioux, he knew white people looked down on his people. They didn’t trust his people any more than his people trusted them. She was right. They should never have been doing this. Only he refused to repent since he had enjoyed every moment of it.
CHAPTER SIX
he next morning, Trapper Dan noticed un uneasy strain between Raven and Marcel. They were no longer riding next to each other. Marcel had chosen to ride on the other side of the wagon away from Raven. Neither of them looked at each other. He wondered what Raven had done to upset Marcel? He would have to take him aside and talk to him. Maybe Raven did not understand the limit’s a man had when he was with a woman of Marcel’s breeding? Whatever had happened between them, they were barely talking now.
“What was that? Marcel asked when a group of strange looking animals bounded past them.”
“Antelope,” Trapper Dan informed her. “Ya cain’t run em down ta shoot em. Only they are easy ta trick cuz their curious critters. The pioneers have devised a way ta use the antelope’s stupidity ta thar advantage. They make two lines of about fifteen men separated a ways apart an one line starts ta waving’ flags they put on poles. It catches the antelope’s attention an the group comes over ta investigate the flag-waving’. They are so curious, they almost come right up ta the men waving the flags. As soon as they get close, the men start a shootin’ thar rifles at the antelope ta get thar prize. Then the whole herd takes off in the opposite direction. Only no sooner have they gone a ways, when they see the other line of men waving flags. Not having learnt thar lesson, they go over ta investigate that line of flags an the whole procedure happens again. They keep it up with the antelope runnin’ back an forth between the lines until they have plugged as many antelope as they need, ta feed the company. I don’t know who thunk it up, but it shore does work!”
“Poor antelope,” Marcel murmured.
“Guess we’ll be a headin’ fer Ash Hollow. There’s a passage bout a day or two away. I think we ken pass through thar easy enough.
During the next two days as the wagon lumbered in the direction of Ash Hollow, Marcel tried to distract herself by playing the piano when they camped.
“I know what,” she smiled at the two. Trapper Dan was looking deep in thought and Raven was looking glum. “We need to lighten things up a bit. I think I will teach you a song. What do you think of that?”
Both Trapper Dan and Raven give her something resembling a smile.
“Now don’t look so skeptical. I know Trapper Dan has a nice singing voice. How about you, Raven? Do Indians ever sing?”
“We chant,” he mumbled.
“Here. I have the perfect song. I’ll sing it to you first, then you can sing along once you hear how it goes.”
Marcel went to the wagon and rolled up the canvas, then sat at the piano and began playing. “This is called The Old Arm Chair. It will tell you why I am bringing all my grandmother’s belongings with me,” she explained.
Soon she was singing the words to the song.
“I love it, I love it, and who shall dare to chide me for loving that Old arm chair.
“I’ve treasured it long as a holy prize, I’ve bedew’d it with tears, an embalm’d it with sighs.
“Tis bound by a thousand bands to my heart, not a tie will break, not a link will start.
“Would ye learn the spell, a mother sat there, And a sacred thing is that Old arm-chair.
“I sat and watched her many a day when her eyes grew dim and her looks were grey.
“And I almost worshiped her when she smiled and turned from her Bible to bless her child.
“Years rolled on, but the last one sped My idol was shattered, my earth-star fled.
“I learnt how much the heart can bear, When I saw her die in that old arm-chair.”
For a moment Trapper Dan and Raven just looked at her.
“That’s a terrible sad song,” Trapper Dan mumbled. “I don’t know thet I want ta sing it.
“But you see why I have to bring all my grandmother’s furniture with me? Every stick of furniture is like that old arm chair to me. It has my grandmother’s spirit clinging to it. If I lose any of it, it would be like losing her again. That’s why I am willing to face anything to make sure that furniture comes with me.”
“I understand,” Trapper Dan said. “Only I still don’t wants ta sing it,” he smiled. “I may seem old ta ya, but I had a mother too. She had an old rocker she used ta sit in and rock me when I was young. Never knew what happened to it after she died,” he shrugged, then got up and walked off to himself.
Marcel turned and looked at Raven.
“Don’t tell me you had a mother with a chair too,” she said.
He shook his head. “Nope, my mother sat on a log,” he smiled, and Marcel started laughing.
The next day, the wagon made its way, descending into the Hollow along the base of the cliffs, through ravines, around jutting pinnacles and near the rim of craggy canyons. However, Trapper Dan pulled the wagon to a halt.
“Don’t think we ken get the wagon an the Mules down this pass tagether. We’ll hafta take the mules off and lead em down on thar own, but keep a couple back, cuz then we need ta lock the wheels an lower the wagon down with ropes ta the bottom usin’ the mules ta hold the wagon back with the ropes.
Marcel’s heart was in her throat as she stood at the bottom of the canyon with the mules and horses, watching the slow progress while Trapper Dan and Raven proceed to lower the wagon down. She expected the ropes to snap and watch her wagon and belongings hurtle to the bottom of the ravine. When it finally came to a safe halt at the bottom, Marcel let out her breath. Slowly, they hitch the mules back up and proceed through the dark, narrow canyon walled in by one or two-hundred-foot cliffs on either side. They wound their way along a crooked trail with abrupt turns that the mules could barely manage until they reached a dry creek bed.
The wagon followed the dry, sandy creek bed and rumbled along, passing buffalo skeletons, wild currant and cherry bushes below the lofty crags overhanging above them. Dwarf cedar trees with bare, twisted roots clung to the hillside hovering over them. Marcel could see clumps of laurel, sweet-smelling honeysuckle, and white moss blooms growing in crevices of the rocks, while Ash trees grew in the depth of the dry bed.
The descent through the canyon took so long, that they didn’t set up camp until late at night when they finally found enough space to remove the mules from the wagon.
Because it was late, Marcel did not stay up to help Raven with his reading, after supper. It had been a long day and besides, she was afraid to be so near to him so she just climbed up into the wagon and laid down on her cot. She could hear Trapper Dan and Raven whispering beneath the wagon.
“What happened atween the two of yas?” Trapper Dan asked Raven as they lay beside each other under the wagon.
“I got too friendly with er. I think it scared her. She doesn’t want anythin’ ta do with a Sioux, that’s fer shore,” he said lapsing back into his rough speech on purpose. “Thar’s no pleasing’ er, Dan. She likes ma touch, but it don’t mean anythin’ to er. I’m just some Indian to er an nuthin’ more.”
“Ya shouldn’t of gotten yer hopes up, Raven. Ya knows she’s a white woman. They don’t like ta cross-breed with no Injuns, ya know.”
“Problem is, I cain’t get er out of ma head. I cain’t get near her cuz the very smell of er
drives me crazy.”
“The way she been lookin’ at ya, I think ya drive her crazy too.”
“Only she won’t admit it. She just keeps er distance, while all the time I am dyin’ ta touch er.”
“Well, I cain’t help ya in that department. Ye’ll hafta work it out on yer own,” Trapper Dan stated.
Raven got up and went to sit by the dying fire, trying to clear his head. He couldn’t see traveling with her for no telling how long while she almost acted like he wasn’t even there.
Raven heard a small noise behind him, and when he looked up, he saw Marcel standing there. She wore a wrapper, pulled tight around her nightgown.
“I heard you talking,” she mumbled, softly.
Raven just looked at her.
“You know I could never become your wife,” she said. “It is not because I am not attracted to you. There is something about you that pulls me to you, but beyond that…” she doesn’t finish. Instead, she sinks down beside him.
“Why are ya here?” Raven asked, feeling a slow excitement start to grow within him, just looking at her, with her hair streaming down over the top of her wrapper.
“I suppose it is because I feel sorry,” she admitted. “I mean not being able to be who you want me to be.”
“You are who I want you to be,” Raven mumbled. “Who you are is what makes me wancha. I just don’t believe ya want me in the same way I want you.”
“It’s not that. What we were doing the other night was, well, astounding. Only we both know it can’t go beyond that. Once this journey is over, I have to go to Oregon and you have to go back to your village, or with Trapper Dan, or wherever it is you go.”
“It’s gonna be a while before either of us reach our destination,” Raven whispered, turning his head to look at her.
“That is what makes it so hard,” she strained, leaning a little closer to him without realizing it. “We can’t travel and not talk to each other. Only when we do talk…” She placed her hand on his.
Sagebrush Serenade Page 6
