Wild Embrace

by Cassie Edwards

  Hanging from the rafters in the main part of the room were hiaqua shells, which Strong Heart’s people used for trade. There were also bladders of whale oil, and on wall pegs, clothing, brightly woven blankets, spare furs and masks used for various ceremonies. These were carved and painted, and she noticed that many of the household items were marked with the family crest, which she had also seen on the totem poles outside. Even the hollowed out alder wood dishes were painted with these designs.

  Elizabeth’s attention flew quickly to the door when Strong Heart came into the longhouse, dressed in only a breechcloth.

  He came to her and held out a hand, beckoning for her to come to him. She lay down the large wooden dish and took his hand, inhaling the heady fragrance of pine emanating from his muscled body. Strong Heart had dried himself with pine needles and the smell clung wonderfully to him.

  Strong Heart offered his parents only a silent nod each, then walked with Elizabeth out of their longhouse to his.

  After they were inside the privacy of his dwelling, Elizabeth noticed that the lodge was lit not only by the flames in the firepit, but also by several “candlefish.” Strong Heart explained that the oil of the small eulachon was so plentiful, it would burn for hours when a wick was inserted in the dried fish.

  Many Stars had been there in their absence to prepare the lodge. Soft fur rugs and embroidered buckskin pillows had been arranged near the fire, and the sweet smelling grass and herbs that covered the floor had been refreshed. It was a comfortable setting with decorative quillwork brightening the walls, and the glow of the flames flickering gently.

  “The day was long,” Strong Heart said, stroking Elizabeth’s cheek with his hand. “The day was hard. But now it is night, and the night belongs to you and me. Love me, my la-daila, so that I may only think of now—of us. Today was sad. It is hard to shake away the sadness. Except with you, my la-daila. Except with you.”

  Overwhelmed by the joy of being with him again, his eyes mesmerizing her anew, Elizabeth stepped away from him and slowly began undressing herself. She watched with a tremulous excitement as he also began undressing.

  When they were both nude, their hands reached out and touched, and caressed. Elizabeth crept closer and molded her body against his as he held her and lowered her to a thick bed of pelts beside the fire.

  As Elizabeth lay there, Strong Heart leaning over her, she ran her fingers over his finely chiseled copper face, along his bold nose, his strong chin, and the line of his hard jaw.

  She then ran her fingers over his wide shoulders, across the expanse of his sleekly muscled chest, and then smoothed her hands down and across his hard and flat stomach.

  As she smiled up at him, she found his eyes smoky and dangerous, as her hand paused before going on. She could already feel the throbbing hardness of his shaft as it lay thick and heavy against her thigh, and to go on with her exploration of his body meant that was the place to touch next. She was reminded of the other time that she had touched it, and how it had felt the moment he had pressed it inside her.

  The pain had been brief. The pleasure had been blissful.

  “You stop now?” Strong Heart said, his eyes dancing. “You have yet to touch the center of my passion, and you stop?”

  “A part of me is almost afraid to,” Elizabeth murmured, her face flushing with a building arousal as Strong Heart cupped one of her breasts and circled his thumb around her taut nipple. “I’m not sure if I can stand such rapture again, Strong Heart. It stole not only my breath away, but also my senses. Surely there is danger in that.”

  “The only danger is in not answering the need that I have awakened inside you,” Strong Heart said, his hand leaving a heated path in its wake as it moved from her breasts, across her stomach, causing her body to tremble with pleasure. Then his hand reached the juncture of her thighs where he began stroking her.

  When he thrust a finger inside her, he smiled at how she moaned and how her eyes rolled with the pleasure. “Never deny yourself this that I so freely offer you,” he said huskily. “Who is to say what tomorrow brings? Did you not see how quickly life was snuffed from those whose ashes I spread today? One can never be certain of tomorrow. So it is only right to take from life today, as it is being offered you.”

  Elizabeth’s head swam as he lowered his lips to hers and gave her a fiery kiss. She returned the kiss and moaned against his lips as she felt the thrust of his hardness as he entered her, and then arched her hips to meet his steady strokes within her. His mouth urged her lips open as his kiss grew more passionate and demanding, his fingers teasing and stroking the supple lines of her body.

  Her world melted away as his fingers moved purposely slow in circles around one of her breasts, then swept down her spine in a soft massage.

  Elizabeth’s pleasure bubbled from deep within as Strong Heart enfolded her in his solid arms and showered heated kisses over one breast and then the other. Anchored fiercely against him, in an embrace long and sweet, she was soaring—she was thrilling. She reached around and placed her fingers on his muscular buttocks, and urged him even more deeply within her.

  And again he kissed her—a blazing, searing kiss that left Elizabeth weak with a delicious languor. She clung to him, now in a torrid embrace, the air heavy with the inevitability of pleasure.

  Tremors ran down Strong Heart’s back and perspiration laced his brow, the bliss drenching him with warmth. He moved in steady strokes inside her, feeling the tightness of her encircling his throbbing member.

  It was that tightness that he was answering, sending him to a world that was far from the sadness of this land of sudden heartache and death. He was delirious with sensation, feeling the last vestige of his rational mind floating away.

  He pressed himself closer to her moist body and plunged more deeply inside her. Soon their bodies jolted and quivered, then grew quiet, yet still entwined.

  “We are the only two people in the universe tonight,” Elizabeth whispered, her hands skimming his perspiration dampened back. “There is no one else, Strong Heart. No one.”

  Strong Heart looked down at her, smiling. In the light of the fire, her body gleamed golden. He ran his hand across her curves. “If I died tonight, it would be with a smile on my face,” he whispered, then again drew her into his arms and gave her a soft kiss. Their tongues touched as Elizabeth slightly parted her lips.

  * * *

  The moon was casting shadows across the land as Earl looked from the window. He felt the strangest, God awful loneliness tonight without Elizabeth. He had gone to the prison today and had checked with Sheriff Nolan, and the posse had still not returned with any sort of answer.

  Hope was dwindling within Earl’s heart that she would be found alive. And he felt as though he had let her down by not having searched for her himself. He had probably been wrong to listen to the sheriff’s advice.

  The sound of a horse approaching drew Earl away from the window, and he rushed to the door and swung it open. His heart pounded and his mouth went dry when he recognized Sheriff Nolan riding toward him. Surely the sheriff had some kind of news about Elizabeth, or why else would he be way out here this time of night?

  Earl stood on the porch, clasping and unclasping his hands as he waited until the sheriff reined in and dismounted. Nolan ambled toward him, his hands resting on the heavy pistols at his hips.

  “Posse’s returned,” Sheriff Nolan said, as he came eye to eye with Earl. He spat a long stream of tobacco over his right shoulder, then turned his gaze back to Earl. “They’ve given up. There’s no sign of your daughter or the escaped renegade anywhere. Sorry, but the men refuse to look any longer. Those who have wives have gone home to them. Those who are itchin’ to bed up with a whore, are probably smellin’ their cheap perfume even now. I thought I owed it to you to come and tell you the news. Now I’d best get back to more important business.” He turned and began to saunter away.

  Anger quickly welled up inside Earl. He stomped to the sheriff and stopped him,
swinging him around so that their eyes met again. “More important business?” he said, his voice threatening. “You call my daughter unimportant? You give up on finding her this easy? I think you’d best rethink things, sheriff, or I’ll—”

  Sheriff Nolan sneered at Earl and knocked his hands away from his shoulders. “Or you’ll what?” he said, thrusting his bearded face into Earl’s.

  Earl swallowed hard and took a step back. “Surely there are other men that you can get together to continue the search? I’ll personally lead the posse. I’ve got to find my daughter. If you can spare the men, I can damn well spare the time!”

  Sheriff Nolan pulled his beard thoughtfully, then nodded. “That’s fine with me. Come into town first thing in the morning. I’ll see what I can do.”

  Sighing heavily, Earl nodded. He wiped the perspiration from his brow as the sheriff rode away. Then he turned with a start when Morris came out of the shadows, his gaze on the sheriff’s back.

  “I heard everything,” Morris said, turning his eyes to Earl. “I don’t think you have any business leadin’ a posse. You’ll never find your daughter, and might even get yourself killed in the bargain.”

  “I’m going to go, so save your breath,” Earl said, turning to walk back up the steps. He stopped and gave Morris a stern stare. “And I expect you to cooperate. While I’m gone, I’m leavin’ the business in your hands totally.”

  Morris didn’t answer.

  Chapter 15

  Come, live with me, and be my love!

  —MARLOWE

  Several days later, with everyone’s feelings still raw since the burial, Strong Heart felt that it was still too soon to take warriors to seek vengeance for the devastation and deaths at the hands of the raiders.

  But the village was being restored quickly, with all of the braves who were healthy enough working.

  Elizabeth stood near Strong Heart as he helped construct a longhouse. She watched several young men carve figures into six-foot-tall cedar logs to support the roof.

  “You are admiring the handiwork of my people?” Strong Heart said, moving to Elizabeth’s side. He leaned on a tall, heavy wooden mallet that he had been using to pound cedar poles into the ground. “Some are carving the legendary guardian spirits of our tribe. Others are carving the cedar log into a story pole, which records the history of the Suquamish to instruct future generations.”

  Elizabeth glanced from one pole to another. On some of the poles were a number of carved toads, bears, blackfish, and other spirit guide symbols. But the ones that showed a red-tailed hawk, carved in detail at the top, drew her most keen regard. They looked real, as if they could take flight.

  Strong Heart also admired the hawk. Above everything, he admired those whose hands were skilled enough to make the hawks look so alive, as if more than mere wood.

  “These story poles are being built to replace those that were burned,” Strong Heart quietly explained. “They are to remind our youngsters of their heritage. The hawk is the crest of my family, and thus of this clan. It is the heraldic emblem of nobility.”

  He glowered as he looked around at those totem poles that had been ravaged by the recent fire. “It was me-sah-chie, bad, that the raiders saw fit to destroy that which is so precious to the Suquamish,” he grumbled. “But soon the desecration will be gone. These new story poles will not be robbed of their future teachings as those others have been. Warriors will forever guard our village now. It is understood that there will always be someone who chooses to be the enemy of the Suquamish. Those who do, will die.”

  Hearing Strong Heart talk in such away, his words filled with such venom, caused an involuntary shiver to course through Elizabeth. She hugged herself and watched Strong Heart as he directed his eyes to something else—someone else.

  In Strong Heart’s eyes she could see pain as he stared at an elderly man. The man was reclining on the ground close to those who were laboring, too old to help with the regrowth of his village.

  Elizabeth wondered what Strong Heart was thinking about the old man. His eyes were filled with longing.

  Strong Heart was remembering another old man. He thought of his beloved grandfather who was still missing. His grandfather had often sat beside a young Strong Heart while he was playing on the ground, saying, “My grandson, when you rest upon the earth, you sit as in your mother’s lap. Our Mother Earth gives us all things, like a loving parent. She provides sustenance, comfort and joy. Though we may pass, she will always be here.”

  “What is it, Strong Heart?” Elizabeth asked, placing a hand on his arm. “What are you thinking about?”

  “My grandfather,” Strong Heart said, a haunted expression crossing his face. “He, in his beautiful eagle-feather headdress so long ago, taught me many things—how Indians loved the earth and all things of the earth.”

  With a nod of his head, Strong Heart motioned toward the elderly man. “See that Suquamish elder?” he said softly. “See how he lies upon the ground? It is with a feeling of being close to a mothering power that he does this. My grandfather, my mother’s father, told me as a child that it is good for the skin to touch the earth. The old ones of my people touch the earth with reverence. They feel her strength when they weaken, know her healing power when they sicken. My grandfather would lie upon the ground when he had a problem to solve or a decision to make. He always told me he could think more deeply there and felt an almost spiritual connection to those around him. Feeling the comfort of Mother Earth’s embrace and gazing up at the limitless sky above, he could better grasp the mysteries of life.”

  “That’s so beautiful,” Elizabeth said. Then she jumped when Strong Heart suddenly threw his wooden mallet to the ground.

  When he turned to her and clutched her shoulders with his fingers, she looked wide-eyed up at him, seeing a determination in his eyes, replacing the haunted look that had only been there a moment before.

  “I must go and find my grandfather,” Strong Heart blurted out. “He deserves to know that so many of his beloved have passed away. It is my place to carry this message to him. It is my responsibility, for I am his only grandson.”

  “You have never mentioned your grandfather before,” Elizabeth said. “Where is he? Why is he gone?”

  “Over a moon ago, he disappeared from our village and no one knows where he went, or why,” Strong Heart said, his voice filled with emotion. “I have searched for him more than once, but still I have not found him. It is my duty to search again, and now. He must be allowed to mourn the dead with the rest of our people.”

  “Where will you look for your grandfather?” Elizabeth asked slowly, afraid that he was planning to leave her behind in the village. Although she had made friends here, she did not relish being among those who still were suspicious of her.

  “The first time we met,” Strong Heart said, reaching a hand to her cheek, softly touching her, “I was searching for my grandfather. You see, your house sits on the hallowed ground of my tribe. It once belonged solely to our people. Where your house sits once housed many Suquamish longhouses. Close by, in the forest, are our burial grounds. It was my assumption that my grandfather had gone there to make peace with the spirits of the dead who were deserted by our people when we were forced to move north, away from land that was no longer ours.”

  Elizabeth listened with a pounding heart, now understanding so much. She now knew why the Indians had tried to burn down the old mansion in the past, and rid the land of any white intruders.

  Then she suddenly recalled the old Indian walking outside her house with a staff in his right hand. It had to be Strong Heart’s grandfather.

  “Strong Heart, I wish you would have told me this earlier,” she said eagerly. “Strong Heart, more than once I saw an old Indian close to my house. He carried some sort of staff. But he disappeared as quickly as he appeared, so I never did get to question him.”

  Strong Heart’s eyes widened. He clutched Elizabeth’s shoulders, almost desperately. “You . . . saw an elderly
Indian?” he gasped. “It was surely my grandfather! I must go now and find him! Come. Come with me. We shall search for him together!”

  “Return with you?” she asked, searching his eyes. “Now? Have you forgotten why you took me away from Seattle in the first place?”

  Strong Heart eased his fingers from her shoulders and dropped his gaze to the ground. There was danger in returning to Seattle so soon after the escape. And, especially, with Elizabeth.

  “Ah-hah, yes, it is dangerous,” he conceded, turning his eyes to Elizabeth. “But, ah-hah, yes, I still plan to go. This is the first time I have ever had true hope that my grandfather is still alive. I must go and search for him now, not later, no matter the risk.”

  Elizabeth stroked her fingers through her long hair as she pondered what to do.

  She thought of her father, Frannie, and then Maysie. It was not at all fair for them not to know that she was alive.

  And although she knew the risk of returning to Seattle, she saw that she must. She would just have to make sure she wasn’t seen by the sheriff. She would not go into Seattle under any circumstances.

  She must not be the one to lead the sheriff to Strong Heart. She knew what Strong Heart’s fate would be, if she did. The memory of the gallows stayed in her mind.

  “Yes, I will accompany you on this venture of the heart.” Elizabeth decided. “While there, I must see my father, and others who are important to me. I must let them know that I am alive.”

  She paused, then added, “My darling, in no way will I endanger your life. If I am cornered by the sheriff, I will lie to save your life. In my eyes, you are innocent of any crime. I will not be the one to cause you to pay for a deed that even I see as being right.”

  Strong Heart took her elbow and they walked away from the workers to the edge of the forest. He drew her into his embrace, his eyes burning down into hers. “My la-daila, I do not want you to be forced to lie for me, ever. And I do not want you to leave me, ever. Once you see your father and reveal to him that you are alive, I want you to return with me to my village and become my wife. Share my blankets with me forever, Elizabeth. My people are impressed with your gentleness, intelligence, and beauty. They would accept you as my wife.”