He would have to do something to regain his honor, to regain his former life. He wanted to see his parents; he wanted to see his brother, Sun Cloud. He yearned to ride with the other warriors, and his soul needed to experience the singing and dancing at the ceremonies. He hungered to sit in council, to speak with the elders, to share adventures and victories. He needed to breathe the air of the Great Spirit in his prayer pipe. His body needed to be cleansed in the sweat lodge; it needed to be honed to its previous hard and agile state. He had been destroying himself, and that was wrong! He had been feeling sorry for himself, and pity was a weakness he could no longer tolerate. Had the Great Spirit also turned his back on them? It was not right for a warrior to be cut off from his people and their ways. He was tired of feeling useless, miserable, and helpless!
Bright Arrow glanced at his buckskin pants and cotton shirt. He ran his fingers through black hair which failed to touch his shoulders. His clothes and appearance screamed at him, “Hanke wasicun, Suaka-ska: Halfbreed! White-dog!” His ebony eyes surveyed the wooden structure. But for the bow and quiver of arrows, there was nothing there to suggest he was Indian or even part Indian; there was nothing present to reveal that his blood was Sioux and his past rank was that of a fierce warrior and future Oglala chief. His surroundings shouted, “Istaska: White-eyes!”
Yet hidden beneath the floor boards were objects which many Indians and whites would kill to obtain: Bright Arrow’s Shooting Star shield, his headband, prayer pipe, medicine bag, armbands, a necklace of grizzly and eagle claws, a silver arrow wanapin, his garments, a coup stick, and many other items of past glory. Both ends of the lance which had been broken by the leader of the council when he had been forced from the Warrior Society were concealed there. No one knew of the secret place except Bright Arrow and his love. He would never have traded any of those valuable objects; they were as sacred to him as his life.
It was past time for action. It was past time for understanding and forgiveness. It was past time to replace all he had lost. He had been too proud and stubborn. Yet he realized that for all his resolve and determination, his tribe did not have to listen or to accept their return. Six winters had passed, and Bright Arrow longed to go home, to be a man once more.
He experienced a shiver of apprehension. He had never been a coward until after their exile. He didn’t like his emotions and actions of these past six years. Even though he had sent his Cheyenne friend Windrider to guard his family, danger had befallen them. Their lives and happiness were his responsibility, and he had failed them. He was plagued by anguish, for Windrider was the one friend with whom he had not lost contact. Surely Windrider had been attacked and killed on his way here, as his body was nowhere near the cabin. His wife and children had been tormented for days by those white dogs, thinking he had deserted and betrayed them. Could his wife forgive him and understand?
When Rebecca recovered, he would explain his absence. He would explain how he had been several hours upriver hunting when he had met his Cheyenne friend heading to their cabin. Windrider had told him of Jean Truteau’s early trip up the river for trading. There hadn’t been time to return home and Windrider had agreed to guard his family while he sought Truteau. If they hadn’t been so dangerously low on supplies, this situation would not have occurred. He was a hunter; yet his family had gone hungry! He was a warrior; yet his family had nearly been slain by enemies! He was the head of this family; yet they could not depend on him! How could he forgive himself for leaving his family unprotected, without food or water for days? He vowed to find a new life for them.
A Sioux warrior should not be forced to live in a world of enemies and pretend to be what he was not, nor should he exist alone and without purpose. If his people did not accept their return to the Oglala camp, he would take his family to live with either the Blackfeet or Cheyenne. Indians were known for their generosity and friendship to others. But would anyone accept them now? Banishment was usually the punishment for murder! Would he be able to make others understand that he had been exiled for a defiant love?
Bitterness threatened to engulf him once again. He wanted to blame his tribe for his lost heritage. Yet, was anyone responsible? If it had been another warrior involved, how would he have felt and voted? Never in his life had he imagined meeting and falling in love with a white girl. But he had not been able to change his feelings or their results, just as the council members had not changed theirs. Each had done as he felt best or necessary. But so many were being hurt by those decisions.
Bright Arrow stood up and stretched his stiff body. Soon it would be morning. He urged the drowsy Rebecca to take more broth and water. He noted that her flesh was sleek and soft once more, the dark patches beneath her eyes were fading, and her respiration came more easily and steadily. With rest and care, she would be fine. He prayed this staggering episode would not be a fatal blow, killing her love and patience.
Watching her, his heart beat faster with love and his body warmed with desire. He had been so entrapped in his dark world that he hadn’t wanted to touch something so pure and beautiful as she. In all honesty, he had to admit that perhaps he had formed unbidden resentment toward the agent of his banishment. Perhaps he had felt undeserving and inadequate. Sex had become a forbidden and difficult stranger to him, and he wasn’t certain why. Surely his wintry treatment had hurt her. He had been shown just how much he loved and needed her and, whatever their destiny, he would never be sorry for taking her as his woman.
A wonderful sensation filled his mind and body. He hadn’t felt this confident in many moons. He was ready and eager to make changes in their life and in himself. He had done a great deal of soul-searching, thinking, and planning, and now he was eager to share this news with her. A sense of peace and joy flooded him as he made a decision too long delayed. It was time to return to the Indian way of life, and he had to convince Rebecca that all would be fine.
Bright Arrow reclined beside Rebecca, encircling her with his arms. His heart soared when she murmured his name and snuggled against him. He lay with his eyes open as bittersweet memories flickered through his restless mind.
Seven times the period which the white man called May had passed since he had met Rebecca. She had been traveling with a band of bluecoats and a black-hearted kinsman. When his band of warriors joined with a band of Cheyenne warriors to attack the small wagon train, he had sighted the white girl being attacked by one of the soldiers. As he watched her, a warm and strange emotion filled him. He had slain the soldier and taken her captive. Yet his claim had been challenged by Standing Bear, a fierce rival who hated and envied him. They had battled over Rebecca, and Standing Bear had been slain. Later, Standing Bear’s friend White Elk had come to the Oglala camp to demand Rebecca’s life in exchange for his friend’s. Once more he had fought a challenge for his love. Two Cheyenne deaths over the possession of Rebecca had caused much anger and resentment, but only in his camp, for the Cheyenne had known the two challenges had been issued because of personal grudges. Many maidens of the Oglala camp had despised her and tried to cause trouble between them, and he had been mocked and taunted. Yet he had stood firm in his love for the white captive.
When he had been ambushed and taken prisoner by the bluecoats, Rebecca had risked her life and safety to help him escape. Her clever plan had worked, and he had gone free. Later, many tribes had attacked the fort to conquer it; he had freed his love that day, and for months afterward he had tried to persuade the council to allow them to wed. How could he force his love to live as his white whore? How could he wed an Indian girl and allow her to mistreat his true love? They had given him no choice but to rebel and leave. Still, he truly believed their refusal had been meant as a bluff.
Rebecca was like magical sunshine that warmed his soul, gave joy to his heart and vitality to his spirit. She possessed as much beauty inside as she did outside. Beneath the sun, her hair was like dark flames of fire. Her sun-browned skin was taut and smooth. He recalled how her gaze sent messages of b
urning passion when she looked at him. Her kisses and caresses could drive him wild with desire, could remove thoughts of all else but her. Her eyes of brown with flecks of gold could penetrate his soul and ensnare him. How could anyone scorn such a vital and loving creature?
Was that why he had been pushing her away—because she held such power over him? Had he unconsciously resented the fact that he had lost—no, sacrificed—everything for her? Had he unwittingly tried to force some of his torment into her to lighten his burden? He could not be sure.
Until now, he hadn’t been ready or willing to confront himself, to admit his weaknesses. He hadn’t wanted to place the blame where it belonged, solely on his own shoulders. Utterly fatigued yet somehow encouraged, Bright Arrow arose and barred the windows and doors. With Rebecca cuddled securely against him, he slept for several hours.
Rebecca’s eyes fluttered and opened. For a time, the setting seemed natural. Then she realized she was nude and clasped snugly in her husband’s arms! He hadn’t held her in ages! She lay motionless, observing his face. Without warning, flashes from the last few days entered her mind. She no longer felt weak. Hunger pangs did not gnaw at her stomach. Dizziness and pain did not wrack her head. She observed her sleeping husband with curiosity. She wondered when he had arrived, for her last memory was of Jess strangling her and threatening to burn down their cabin. She bolted to a sitting position and glanced around, breathing rapidly. She was confused. All appeared normal. Had it been a horrible nightmare?
Bright Arrow sat up and tried to embrace her. “They are dead and will harm no one,” he said softly. “You are safe, my heart.” He watched her intently.
He had not called her that special name or used that tender tone in months; even so, it failed to move her this morning. She locked her probing gaze on his veiled one. At times like this, she hated his Indian ability to conceal emotions or secrets. It was one skill he had not dulled by lack of use! “Where were you?” she asked simply, drilling her gaze into his in an attempt to penetrate its barrier.
“Your body has recovered from your battle. Who were those men, Rebecca? What did they do to my family?” he inquired cautiously. It would require time, patience, and care to tear down the emotional wall he had erected over so many moons. He had to be gentle. Now it seemed that Rebecca wasn’t ready or willing to change.
Rebecca’s gaze was stony. “Why didn’t you come home for days?” she demanded, keeping her voice low. “Why bother to return when it’s almost too late? We could have died,” she accused.
“I went to trade for food and supplies,” he responded, pointing to the goods still lying on the table. “Where is Windrider? I sent him to protect my family while I was gone. I did not find his body outside. Were there more than two enemies? Did they steal Windrider’s body?”
Rebecca did not know that Bright Arrow was asking for facts which he already possessed. She did not realize he was attempting to let her expose the truth of why he had been absent. He noted the astonishment and confusion upon her face. “Tell me what happened while I was away,” he urged. “When I met Windrider in the forest, I decided it was best to hurry to Truteau’s camp before he left. Windrider gave me gold to trade, and he was to come here and remain. What happened to him? Do you know?” he probed.
“I haven’t seen Windrider for months. If those two men ambushed him, they didn’t say so,” Rebecca began, then continued until she had shared the grueling tale with her distressed mate. Wisely, she did not disclose the extent of the sexual contact between the men and herself, for she knew how such news would affect her husband’s pride. Some things were best left unsaid. As she concluded the account, she declared with tears in her eyes, “You left us alone and in danger. This is a bad place.”
Bright Arrow explained, “I killed the white dog who tried to harm you. The Great Spirit guided my feet home before I lost my family to foes.”
“If Wakantanka cares so much about us, we wouldn’t be here,” she snapped coldly and gestured to the cabin. “We can’t continue to live this way, Bright Arrow. It’s lonely and dangerous. What about our children? What if something happened to us?” she asked. It was time to leave this horrid place, she decided, with or without her love.
“You are right, my heart,” he stated clearly, shocking her. “If we are still unwelcome in my father’s camp, I will seek a home for us with the Blackfeet or Cheyenne. We were not born to walk the path of the white man. Our hearts have been heavy for too many winters. It is the moon for Bright Arrow to remember his name and to regain his honor. I have not been a man for many moons. I ask your forgiveness. Will you go with me to seek a new life after I discover the fate of Windrider?” he entreated in a tone which moved her deeply.
“You’re serious?” she murmured skeptically.
Bright Arrow’s bronzed hand caressed her smooth cheek. His igneous gaze fused with her doubtful one. “You are my heart, and I must be a man once more for you. I have lived as a child and a coward for many winters. I have permitted us to suffer. Love is not evil, Rebecca. I cannot punish us for what others say is wrong. If this were true, the Great Spirit would have seized you from my life-circle. If our children of two bloods were evil, He would have let the white dogs take their lives. We will travel to the Cheyenne camp to learn of Windrider’s fate. Then we will ride to the Blackfeet camp. I will leave you and our children in the camp of my mother’s people, and I will seek out the Oglala council’s decision. Do you agree?” he inquired anxiously, wondering what he would do if she didn’t concur. He smiled at her.
He had spoken the words her heart yearned to hear. His features reflected the sincerity and urgency of his appeal, and she could not resist. A radiant smile flickered over her face like a beautiful butterfly, touching first upon her lips and then her eyes. She felt exhilarated by the smell and feel of his intimate proximity, and desire suddenly invaded her mind and body. She softly replied, “Yes, my love. I will follow you, even to the end of the world.”
Bright Arrow’s gaze engulfed her. She was lovely beyond dreams. She was gentle, yet strong. Her amber eyes were compelling. Her voice was as tranquil as a peaceful stream. Strength and tenderness rushed through him, as he remembered his first impressions of Rebecca Kenny. She had been soft and enticing, small and helpless, and she had fit nicely and perfectly against him. A sensual smile claimed his lips as he recalled his first seduction. A delicate girl would be no threat to a powerful warrior, he had believed then. How untrue that thought had been! She had changed his entire life, altered his feelings and dreams.
His smile was beguiling and disarming. Rebecca was fascinated and enchanted by it and by the man beside her. His hand tenderly pushed some stray locks of damp auburn hair from her face, then his finger moved ever so lightly over her parted lips. Lazily his fiery eyes explored her face, his senses absorbing her responsive mood. When his mouth came down to claim hers, her response told him she was eager to join her body with his. Pleased and relieved, his next kiss deepened. She quivered as he placed feathery kisses on her eyes, neck, mouth, nose, and ears. His ardent seduction was persistent, intoxicating. She could not resist his stirring quest, and lay motionless for a time, allowing him free rein over her body.
Bright Arrow leaned away from her, his loving gaze intensely scrutinizing his woman, and his look caused her to tremble. It was the stare of a hungry wolf, one who was skillfully stalking his prey before attacking and devouring it. It had been so long since they had made love, and her ravenous body craved his. They had shared so many sweet and urgent unions, she recalled blissfully, and her husband was skilled upon the mats, allowing no restraint in her. His prowess and knowledge had always rewarded them with exquisite pleasures.
His probing, warming gaze started its leisurely journey at her chestnut hair. As sunlight entered the side window, its glow touched her head and brought her tresses to fiery life. His gaze moved past her tawny eyes to linger briefly upon her pert nose, her slightly parted lips, and her dainty chin. It took in her perfect f
eatures, which were a deep brown shade from so much time spent beneath the golden sun.
His smoldering eyes then roamed over her inviting frame, with its gently rounded hills and flat plains. His hand tenderly stroked her soft, firm flesh with a touch that was unsettling and pleasing to both of them. A glow brightened Rebecca’s cheeks as fiery passion consumed her eager body. She quivered and tingled as his deft mouth came down upon hers like a masterful raider plundering virgin territory. She did not want to staunch the liquid fire that seemed to flow through her body. His kisses made her respond to him with total abandon. Rebecca’s arms encircled his head and, burying her slender fingers into his ebony hair, she gave herself freely to him. Her mind spun with rapturous delight. She wondered if there was enough time to make love before their girls came fully awake. In the Indian camp, privacy had been easier to find, as there was always someone to play with or tend babies and children when couples needed to be alone. In the Indian camp… Quickly she dismissed her line of thought before it poisoned her new feelings.
Seeking, demanding, stirring nibbles tantalized her breasts. As his hands explored and teased her pliant flesh, she could not resist the callings of her body, cries which demanded he douse her consuming wildfire. For a time, they were totally oblivious to their surroundings.
Stolen Ecstasy Page 7
