“You sneaking whore,” he sneered faintly. As his hand reached out toward her, she clenched her teeth and drove the blade deep into his heart. Lester grabbed her wrist as he fell, carrying her to the hard ground with him. Almost instantly he went limp. He was dead.
Rebecca pushed herself to her knees and gaped at the grisly sight. Three wounds were bleeding profusely. It was difficult for her to believe she had slain two men. As she wiped her bloody hands on her dress, she swallowed with difficulty, fearing she’d be sick. Dazedly she struggled to her feet and looked toward the cabin. Lester hadn’t brought food or water, the vicious lying beast! she angrily concluded.
Rebecca knew she had to get nourishing broth and water for her girls, and in a hurry. Her own strength was vanishing rapidly. She went inside for a bucket, then headed for the nearby stream, stumbling and falling several times in her weakened condition. She ignored her scratched knees and hands, the buzzing in her ears, and her clammy skin. When she reached the stream, she splashed water on her face, neck, and arms to revive herself, then lifted her brimming bucket and headed for the cabin, commanding her feet to move steadily and her head to unfog. She refused to look in the direction of Lester’s body. If anyone deserved death, it was Lester Paul!
Upon entering the cabin, she placed the bucket on the floor, then worked feverishly and desperately to unbar and open all the windows. Although it was hot outside, the heat inside the cabin needed to escape and be replaced with fresh air. She dercided she would take the girls to the stream as soon as they were fed and would submerge their fiery bodies in the water to refresh them.
Needing wood, she went to the rear of the cabin where Bright Arrow had stacked it on either side of the rock chimney. She encouraged herself to work more swiftly, but she was so tired and weak. She knew she had to complete her tasks before she fainted from hunger and weakness. With arms loaded, she headed around the side and halted abruptly, dropping the wood. She gaped at the man who had stepped around the corner of the cabin and was blocking her path. He was supposed to be dead! He should be dead! He must be dead!
Petrified, she couldn’t move or scream as her startled gaze fused with Jess Thomas’s icy glare. His head was bandaged. His shirt was stained with his blood—blood for which she was responsible. White faced and shaking, she began to back away from the intimidating figure.
Jess’s eyes narrowed and stared, but he remained motionless. “You done killed my friend whilst I was sleeping. Lester said you wouldn’t come out If’n you knowed I was alive. Why’d you try to kills me? Yore a bad woman, Rebecca. You ain’t planning on leavin’ yore babies in my gentle, sweet hands, is you?” he taunted.
Rebecca swayed against the wooden surface. She was trapped once more. Tears flowed down her pale face as she asked, “Why are you doing this to us, Jess? We’ve never harmed anyone. I agreed to open the door and let him do whatever he wished. Lester tried to kill me. He told me you were dead. He was going to get rid of you after he got the gold. He told me to trick you. I’m begging you to go away and leave us alone. My girls are weak and sick. They’re dying, Jess. I need to take care of them. Please,” she urged pitifully.
The man’s expression never changed. “I’m gonna punish you. I was real good to you, and you played me wrong. Come here, bitch,” he ordered ominously. “If’n you don’t, I’m heading inside that cabin.”
There was no one to rescue them. There was nothing she could do to save herself or her children. If she tried to use one of the logs as a weapon, Jess would rush into the cabin and carry out his threat. By dusk, her family would be dead. Mentally and physically exhausted, she lost all hope and spirit and courage. She felt it was futile to resist.
Rebecca inhaled raggedly, then sluggishly walked toward Jess. She sensed he was going to kill her, murder her without ravishing her. She knew it would serve no purpose to apologize to him, to plead for mercy and understanding. Her heart lurched as she noticed what he was holding in his left hand at his side—the bloody knife with which she had slain his friend Lester. Her eyes returned to his and silently begged for the mercy which her words could not obtain.
She stepped before Jess. Roughly he placed his hand at her throat and pinned her against the wall. For a time he was satisfied to observe her beauty and her terror and, as he did, Rebecca cursed Bright Arrow’s tribe, for their banishment had lead to this. She cursed Bright Arrow for deserting his family, and she prayed for the survival of her children. Anxiously, she waited for her death.
Jess raised his arm ominously. The bloodied knife glistened in the sunlight. Jess howled like a frenzied wolf, then put his nose to hers and disclosed, “When I finish you off, squaw, I’m gonna put yore body in that cabin and burn all you red nits to ashes. All we wanted wuz gold to build a home. Lester wuz gonna marry my sister. We wuz gonna be a family. You done spoiled ever’thing. You gotta pay fur killing him. ‘Sides, Lester was gonna burn all you-ins anyway after he had his go atcha.”
Jess’s hand tightened on her throat, cutting off her air. Her vision blurred as she recalled seeing brush dropped around the cabin. She had been too distracted then for its meaning to sink into her dazed mind. As dry as the weather and cabin were, a fire would burn quickly and easily. Her babies burned alive…! Instinctively her hands clawed at his as she discovered her new strength and courage from deep within. But he was too strong and she was too weak. His chilling laughter was the last thing Rebecca heard as blackness surrounded and claimed her.
Chapter Three
Just before leaving the covering of dense trees, the bronze-skinned figure halted to tie the reins of his newly purchased horse to a bush near the stream where the animal could graze and drink after their long ride. Each new journey fatigued him more than the last one, he mused. He had been unhappy for a long time and had become lazy and indifferent. He faced the fact that he had changed greatly, changed for the worse. He grimaced in annoyance as his fingers seized the fat around his waist and squeezed it. Years ago, he had ridden for days without trouble; now, two hours on a horse and he was sore and stiff! He could flex his body and hardly raise a muscle to attention! He was as weak as a woman or an old man.
As he considered his mental and physical condition, Bright Arrow’s brow furrowed in shame. What had stolen his keen mind? When had his body turned traitor on him? When had he lost his strength, his vigor, his virility? He winced at that last thought.
Stepping into the clearing, his dark eyes clouded with confusion and shock. A white man was strangling his wife! And where were his children? Because his sharp brain had dulled, he stood spellbound for an instant. Why was he watching this battle and doing nothing? Suddenly, his mind blazed with fury as it took in his inability to act swiftly and vengefully. With quivering fingers, he fumbled for an arrow. When it was withdrawn from its sheath, he fired it into the back of the attacking white-eye. The man was dead the instant the arrow slammed into his heart. Jess lurched forward, then sank to the ground. His hold on Rebecca’s throat weakened, and her slim body sank limply to the dry earth.
Bright Arrow surged forward to examine his beautiful love. At first he couldn’t detect a heartbeat and he panicked. He shook her and called her name. There was no response. Finally he discerned an erratic beat and, hastily lifting her, he carried her into the cabin, anxious to see what he would discover there. His fury mounted when he saw the condition of his children. He ran to each of the girls, checking to see if they still breathed. Relieved that his family still lived, he hurried outside to make certain no other foe was lurking there. He quickly scanned the clearing. It was obvious to him from the bloodstains on Rebecca’s dress that she had slain one man and had tried to battle the other one.
Blaming and cursing himself, Bright Arrow rushed back to the cabin and tried to arouse his wife. When he sprinkled water on her ashen face, her golden brown eyes opened briefly, and she pleaded for him to forget her and see to their children. Before she could explain matters or ask questions, she once again slipped into unconsciousness.
Assuming she was overly fatigued from her recent battles, he felt sleep was best for her. Only later would Bright Arrow learn that she had denied herself food and water for days in order to have more for their children. But now time was precious, and he hastily set about saving his family.
He had witnessed the treatment for heat exhaustion many times and knew how to help his loved ones. He retrieved the packs of supplies from where he had dropped them during his wife’s rescue. During the next two hours, the exiled warrior made a nourishing broth from the rabbit which he had slain just before reaching home and carefully fed each child, beginning with the youngest and weakest. He forced water into their dry mouths between trips to the stream to fetch water for the metal tub, which had been a surprise for Rebecca two years past. He stripped Tashina first and washed her thoroughly, then went on to revive Little Feet and Moon Eyes.
The fresh air and loving care revitalized the girls who had been sluggish and confused upon his arrival. Once fed and treated, they recovered quickly. They were ecstatic to see their father, hugging and kissing him and jumping on him. Despite his worry, Bright Arrow could not suppress his smiles and nervous chuckles at their playful and innocent antics. Clearly the children did not comprehend the severity of the situation they had recently endured.
“Why is Mama sleeping?” Little Feet questioned curiously when her mother failed to respond and join in their merriment.
“I will wake her,” Moon Eyes offered eagerly, heading for the bed where her mother lay limp and silent.
Bright Arrow halted her. “Mama is sick, little ones. She must have rest and care in order to recover,” he explained, trying not to remind them of their recently vanquished fears.
“Did the bad man hurt Mama?” Little Feet inquired gravely for such a small child. “He locked us inside, Papa, and we didn’t have food or water.” The painful words tumbled forth from quivering lips. “We were so hot and thirsty. Mama cried and screamed at him.”
“Mama is not hurt, little one. Do not fear. She is tired from watching over her children for many days. The bad men are gone. They will not harm my little ones again,” he vowed.
“Will Mama be sick a long time?” Moon Eyes asked, wrinkling her forehead in bewilderment as she gazed into her father’s eyes.
He smiled encouragingly and shook his head. “No, Moon Eyes, Mama will heal quickly. But we must be quiet and let her sleep. Come, I must put my little ones to bed so they can awake strong on the new sun.”
The two older girls recounted the drama of the last few days, which now seemed like a bad dream to them. While answering their questions, reassuring them about their mother’s condition, and dispelling the evil aura of Jess and Lester, Bright Arrow hurried the girls into bed so he could tend his wife and have time and silence to think about this and many other crucial matters. Finally at peace after making their frightening revelations, the girls obeyed their father’s words and were soon slumbering. As the sunset lit up the horizon with lovely colors then began to fade to a rosy blue, Bright Arrow was able to focus his attention on Rebecca.
Bright Arrow was worried over her condition. He hadn’t realized she was actually weaker than the children. He had been forcing water between her lips while he cared for the girls, but he had had trouble making her drink the soup, for swallowing had been difficult for her. He fretted over her lack of response. As he worked he scolded himself for wishing that Mind-Who-Roams, the Oglala medicine chief, were here to care for his cherished woman. He mopped her face and body with a cool, wet cloth, but she didn’t awaken. He checked her again for injuries, finding only the bruises at her throat and minor scratches here and there.
While he observed and tended her, his tormented mind took in the dark smudges beneath her lovely eyes, which indicated she had had little sleep in the past days. Her flesh had an unnatural feel to it, and she was as limp as a freshly skinned pelt. There had been one bucket of water inside the cabin, untouched and newly obtained. He had found no edible food or firewood, yet the girls had responded to his care.
Suddenly he realized why his wife was in worse condition. He gathered her into his arms and covered her face with kisses. She had been brave and unselfish, as always. He knew how close he had come to losing his family, his true love. Memories of another such time flooded his mind, as he recalled the day he had rescued her from the fort. She had come to save him but had been trapped after doing so. The soldiers had been cruel to her, and she had nearly died after proving her worth and love.
He had fully realized then the depth of their love, and he had known for certain he could never part with her. He had defied the council and chosen Rebecca. But after that he had been rejected as if repugnant to his tribe.
He gingerly placed Rebecca on their bed. His fists clenched in rage as he accepted the blame for this new peril his family had had to endure. He went to sit cross-legged upon the floor in front of Rebecca. Every so often, he would arise to force more liquid down her throat. Now that he was home to protect his family, he left the windows and doors open for cooler air. He checked on the girls; they were sleeping soundly. He inhaled deeply and returned to his vigil over his wife. His heart thudded heavily as his eyes roamed over her.
He had sacrificed all he was to have this woman, and he wouldn’t lose her now! Finally he saw himself—really saw himself and their life—for the first time in ages. He realized his many mistakes during these past two years, and he was displeased and angered by what he understood at last.
How had he been so cruel to the woman he loved and needed? How had she endured his moods and weaknesses for so long? Why had he tried to destroy himself and his beautiful love? As he watched over his beloved wife, he sought the reasons for his gradual loss of pride.
Besides the French and Spanish who had entered the Indian territories to explore, to trade, and to trap, there had been another band of white-eyes surging into their forests and over their plains who called themselves Americans. At first they had begun like a tiny trickle of rain; now they poured into these lands like a raging storm. Those dead men outside his home were Americans! Unlike the first whites, these Americans did not mingle with the Indians unless for some wicked or selfish purpose; they remained apart or murdered any Indian in their paths. He recalled too many times when the whites had tried to wipe out entire bands or murder leaders to disperse powerful tribes. Those dead foes outside had come to his home for greedy and evil reasons, and he wished he could slowly torture them for the suffering they had caused his family.
Most Indians felt as Bright Arrow did; American soldiers and settlers were the most dangerous and deceitful of the whites. They were as aggressive and sly as a crazed wolf. He had battled and slain these types of white foes at his father’s side. How could he ever have believed he could live as his enemies lived, as Clay Rivera, who was said to be half-Spanish and half-Crow? The Crow were the most hated adversaries of the Sioux! He had chosen that tribe to prevent any suspicion of ties to his people. If anyone ever guessed he was Wanhinkpe Wiyakpa, son of Gray Eagle…
For such reasons, Bright Arrow always traded with the French or Spanish at their posts or where they made their regular stops. Other times, he went to the Cheyenne camp or to the British trading post at Lake Traverse. Except for his wife and a few others, he detested and mistrusted the whites. He longed to drive them from his homeland, from his sacred grounds. But as a banished brave, this was impossible.
Bright Arrow was plagued by his thoughts. How could he endanger his family? How could he be so cowardly? He had done nothing wrong, nothing but lose hope and ruin himself! True, he had demanded to keep the woman he loved. But he had also agreed to surrender the chief’s bonnet, to live and ride as just another warrior. All he wanted was Rebecca in his life-circle. How could that be evil and defiant? How could his parents and tribe turn their backs on him? And why had he taken his rage, bitterness, and anguish out on himself and on his beloved Rebecca? He had been terribly wrong!
This life of nothing in a white man�
�s dwelling was not for him. He was a warrior! He should be guarding his lands and people from Indian and white foes. He should be with his family, at his father’s side! He had been spiritless and resentful for too long. He had suffered and sacrificed enough for his one defiant deed. His instincts and skills had been dulled by years in the white man’s world, in this stifling box of wood. He hungered for freedom, for adventure, for honor. He yearned to be the man he once had been so long ago. Was it too late?
And what of his family? They were in peril in this wilderness. He did not want his girls to go the way of the whites, to marry them and be taunted as half-breed squaws. He wanted his girls to know their heritage, to be influenced and taught by Gray Eagle and Shalee. Indian families were very close, something that his girls were missing. Indian children had large families, which took part in their training and care. At birth, they were given second fathers and mothers to prevent their real parents from spoiling or overly protecting them. How he longed to see White Arrow and Wandering Doe, his second parents.
Indian children knew where they belonged, but he feared his girls would think themselves white! Against Indian custom, he had been present during the births of his children, had been compelled to assist with those births. He had not taught his children the Oglala tongue and customs, fearing they might innocently reveal such things to a foe. Fear. What a sour tasting word! It was wrong that his girls did not know who and what their father was, or had been.
And there was his beautiful and gentle Rebecca to consider. He wanted his love to smile and be happy once more. Her recent silence and dejection had not escaped him, and he had to admit he was to blame for that, too. This life had been lonely and harsh for her, yet she had shown such courage and determination. She had been patient, loving, and understanding, never taunting or nagging him. She had loved him enough to endure captivity and scorn at his side in the Oglala camp. When his pride demanded he resist his tribe’s command to keep her only as a slave, she had followed his lead into the wilderness. She was a rare and special creature, one too precious to be harmed in any way. She had not asked or pleaded for them to leave; defiance and departure had been his choices. Would he make those same choices and mistakes again? Had he handled everything wrong? Would patience and persistence have won his battle eventually?
Stolen Ecstasy Page 6
