Stolen Ecstasy

by Janelle Taylor

  “Yes, I understand, Windrider. I’ll do as you say,” she agreed. Her heart thudded heavily at his news. It sounded utterly hopeless. All she could count on was the hope that Bright Arrow’s identity and past rank would have a favorable effect on them. How could they hate and spurn a man who had done so much for them, the man who was the son of their chief? She was terribly aware that it wasn’t Bright Arrow they rejected. God help them if he was compelled to return to his home alone…

  Windrider placed his balled fist under Rebecca’s chin and lifted it. “Do not be sad or afraid. Bright Arrow will understand and accept your words. He cannot move a mountain. He made his bed of cactus spines when he captured, enslaved, and demanded to keep you. Now he must destroy it and heal his injuries. When many moons pass, he will seek another woman to take your place in his heart and tepee. When many moons pass, Windrider will be the warrior who fills your heart and head.”

  “Will you give your word and promise to obey the council’s vote?” she asked unexpectedly, her gaze never leaving his eyes.

  “You have my promise I will accept the words Cloud Chaser speaks to us on the next moon,” he responded gingerly. “If the Oglalas say you can return to them as Bright Arrow’s wife, I will not fight a lost battle. I will not accept you as his slave. If you join to Bright Arrow, I will free you. If you do not, I will claim you. When the choosing moon comes, if you desire Windrider more than Bright Arrow, I will reach for you. You must follow the command of the Oglala council; Windrider must follow his heart.”

  Clearly this Cheyenne warrior was not going to make her decision easy, Rebecca mused just as Cloud Chaser returned to camp with damp skin and wet hair. Windrider told him he was going to guard Rebecca while she bathed. Rebecca left them to seek a change of clothes, soap, and a drying. blanket, missing the exchange between the two men.

  In Cheyenne, Cloud Chaser warned, “Be careful, my friend. I saw you in the woods with her many moons past. I did not understand your white words, but I could not miss the looks which passed between you. Have you forgotten we joined forces to free Bright Arrow from her? Do you fall into her evil trap, Windrider?” he queried gravely.

  “She falls into mine, Cloud Chaser, and pulls me in with her,” he confessed readily. “It will go as we planned. We will free our friend. But I will not cast her aside when victory is ours. She is not evil. She is good and special. The Cheyenne will accept her as my wife.”

  “What will Bright Arrow do when he learns you have taken his woman to your heart and mat?” the Sioux warrior asked.

  “When he casts her aside to return home, she will be free to become my wife. He will be glad she is safe and happy,” he alleged.

  “We will see,” Cloud Chaser muttered skeptically.

  Rebecca walked behind the Cheyenne warrior as they left Cloud Chaser smoking his pipe. Windrider halted behind the thick line of bushes, telling her to call out at the first hint of danger.

  She left him there and threaded her way along a narrow path made by deer and other creatures. There was a small grassy area on the riverbank where she laid her garments and disrobed. The moon had passed its fullness, but there was enough light for Rebecca to see. She slipped into the water and swam for a short time. Then she retrieved the soap and lathered herself from head to foot in the shallow edge. Afterward, she walked into the deeper water to rinse off, relishing being able to remove the dirt, body oil, and perspiration.

  She dried off and put on fresh garments, then rolled the others into a tight ball. She would wash them when they camped tomorrow. When she rejoined Windrider, he scanned her features thoroughly. “I ask for one kiss before you return to camp,” he stated in a muffled voice.

  “I…we…” she stuttered in surprise and dismay.

  Windrider closed his arms around her and kissed her tenderly, then turned her around and guided her to within sight of their camp and Cloud Chaser. “I will bathe and return soon,” he told her.

  He vanished into the shadows. She walked toward her mat and sat down. She put away her things, then vigorously rubbed her hair once more and brushed it. Soon it was nearly dry. Rebecca lay down and was fast asleep before Windrider’s return.

  They broke camp later than usual the next day and rode until early afternoon before stopping. Cloud Chaser had selected an area with tall rock formations. Boulders sat precariously on top of other boulders, forming artistic shapes. There was one grouping that was a semi-circle of assorted rocks. Near the base at the center of the area was an underground spring. It was the perfect place to camp, for they would be out of sight. From atop one of the formations, a guard could see the surrounding area in all directions. There was water for everyone, and plenty of grass for the horses. Scattered trees nearby would supply firewood for a hot meal, Rebecca noted, if the men allowed one.

  Windrider vanished for a time while Rebecca and Cloud Chaser unloaded their horses and ate more dried venison. Then Cloud Chaser relaxed on his mat to take a short rest—or, she suspected, to avoid her company. There was one scrawny tree inside the partially enclosed area, and Rebecca leaned against it and closed her eyes to rest them briefly. Gradually she was overcome by sleep. She eased to the mat that Windrider had placed to her left side.

  Nearly two hours had passed when Rebecca’s mouth began watering from the delicious aromas attacking her nostrils. The dream was so stimulating that she hated to open her eyes and end it. Yet she did and was astonished to discover it was no dream. She didn’t see Cloud Chaser anywhere, but Windrider was hunkered down near a small fire over which a rabbit and vegetables were slowly roasting. Her eyes widened and laughter spilled forth from her lips.

  She hurried forward, dropping to her knees across from Windrider. “A rabbit and breadroot!” she shrieked in delight. Her eager gaze shifted to where wild carrots and leeks lay on a flat rock. “Wherever did you find breadroot this late? You’ve been busy. I must be lazy to sleep so long while you hunted and worked.”

  He chuckled at the animation in her eyes and movements. “I found two stubborn bushes while I hunted. We have no pot to cook the other vegetables in; we must eat them raw. There is one camas left; I hid it for you.” He removed it from his bag and placed it on the rock.

  Bubbly laughter came forth once again, and she protested his generosity. “No, we’ll share it. Where’s Cloud Chaser?” she asked, glancing around to find that his horse was missing.

  Windrider concentrated on turning the rabbit and breadroot as he casually responded, “He has gone to the Oglala camp. He will return with the new sun. I must gather more wood. Tend the fire and food,” he instructed.

  Rebecca had stiffened unconsciously at that news. Noting her hesitation, he dropped to his knees before her. “You must learn to trust me, Rebecca. You have no reason to fear being alone with me. My body burns for you, but I will not make love to you until you are my wife. If I took you this moon, I would never allow you to return to Bright Arrow. I gave my word to honor the council’s vote.”

  “I’m sorry, Windrider. I do you an injustice. Forgive me,” she beseeched him.

  ‘There is nothing to forgive. You know the power of burning bodies, and you fear they cannot be controlled. I am strong. I will not allow the fires to consume us before you say it is time.” His lips brushed over hers, then he stood and left.

  She scolded herself for being so foolish and untrusting. She wasn’t a young girl or a virgin. He would never ravish her, and he would never take her unless she willed it. Then what was it? Was she afraid to trust herself with him? In spite of her love for Bright Arrow, there was an undeniable spark Windrider ignited within her. She had to make certain nothing happened between them! He was just so appealing in looks and masculinity. He possessed the skills to drive a female wild with hunger and passion, skills she could recall too vividly.

  After a delectable meal was appreciatively devoured, Windrider allowed the fire to burn out. He placed two mats beneath the tree, close together, for he wanted Rebecca near at hand in case of dange
r. As they lay on their backs, she asked him about his family and his name.

  Windrider placed his hands under his head. “My father had three sons. One brother was slain by the Pawnee. One brother was killed battling many Crow. My father sought revenge on both tribes. He died from wounds, but many Crow and Pawnee scalps decorated his war lance. My mother was taken to wife by Kajihah’s father. She lives in the Oglala camp. When one brother died, White Antelope took his wife and two sons into his tepee. All children except Little Turtle have joined to others. When another died, I took Sucoora to my tepee as my brother had asked of me. Only Windrider and his son carry the warrior’s blood of Thunder-In-His-Mouth. When my father spoke, all listened.”

  He shifted slightly before going on “with his tale. “I named my first son Little Thunder, to follow his grandfather’s path. He did so in death two winters past. Eight winters past I saved the life of Standing Rock of the Oglalas. He offered me his daughter as a reward. Kajihah was a pretty female. I had eyes and hunger for no woman. I needed my own tepee and sons. I took her to wife. Two moons after our joining, I accepted the death wish of my brother and took his wife Sucoora to my tepee. When Kajihah gave birth to a daughter, Sucoora was unhappy. I had not taken her to my mat. To please her and to keep my tepee happy, I did so. We had one child; he is the son who died. Kajihah had another girl. Sucoora pleaded for another child, but the Great Spirit did not will it so. Kajihah gave me another son. He was five moons old when Little Thunder became ill and died. The medicine chief and Medicine Girl could do nothing. I have not taken either wife to my mat since Kajihah learned she carried my son. There is no love or pleasure with them,” he admitted honestly.

  He stared at the heavens above their heads. “With other females, my heart does not beat swiftly and my body does not burn as with you, Rebecca. My lips do not hunger to taste theirs. My hands do not plead to caress their bodies. My eyes find no joy in looking at them. I do not wish to pass words with them or walk in the forest with either at my side. My mind does not think of them while they are far or near. You are different. You do such things to me. Only you, Rebecca. No other woman has caused such feelings to grow within me.”

  Windrider had not turned toward her or looked at her, but he could detect her erratic breathing at his passionate confession. She was alarmed by the desire smoldering between them. To calm her, he went on with his story. “In my vision at the opening to manhood, I was given the name Windrider. I saw a warrior with many coup feathers racing across the night sky. His face was in darkness. His horse had many markings of victory. The warrior rode as swiftly as the wind. He moved as secretly as the mild breeze. His enemies saw his actions, but they could not see him. He could blow gently or hard, and could move things with his powerful breath. No enemy could catch his fast mount. The winds protected him from all harm; they guided his path. He rode with courage and daring. When he turned and the moon revealed his face, it was mine. I am a wind rider. No one can reach my height but you. You have shown me love and gentleness. I have not known such feelings and desires before your coming. I do not wish to lose you and what could be between us. I envy Bright Arrow his winters with you. Forgive me, but I cannot feel pain for his coming loss of you, for, with it, I will have you. I feel only anger at the suffering and shame he has brought to your life. Perhaps it is wrong, but I pray they will reject you as they do all whites. Sleep now. The new sun will be long and hard.” He rolled to his side, away from her.

  Rebecca turned her head to gaze at him. She was touched by his story and doubted he had ever revealed such feelings to anyone else. She remembered what Bright Arrow had said to her one night: “You taught me love… and tenderness.” Isn’t that what Windrider had just told her? Was it so wrong to elicit such emotions in another? It didn’t matter what either man prayed for, as powers greater than all of them would decide her fate. Now she was even more confused and unsettled than before but she wasn’t puzzled about one thing—she would marry him if she could not have Bright Arrow.

  Deeply ensnared by slumber, Rebecca instinctively curled against Windrider. He lifted his right arm and put it under her head. She lay her arm over his chest and rested her palm near his heart. When his embrace welcomed her, she nestled even closer. His free hand captured a lock of her hair and held it to his nose. It smelled of flowers. He was baffled, then realized she must have put flowers in the soap she had used the night before. The fragrance assailed his senses, and his lips pressed to her temple. He rolled to his side, his lips nibbling at her right ear.

  Rebecca sighed in her sleep. A serene smile dreamily touched her mouth. He moved his lips over her face, tasting each area. She moaned, seeking his lips instinctively and unknowingly. Greedily she savored his mouth as she meshed her body against his. For a brief and maddening moment, Windrider permitted her to inflame his senses. When her hand caressed his hardened manhood and she murmured, “I want you,” he realized he would soon lose all control of his mind and body. This was perilous; he had to stop. Otherwise she would believe he had taken advantage of her during her slumber. He had to be patient and do nothing to lose her trust and affection. As much as he craved her, he moved out of her reach and endured the aching in his loins.

  Rebecca was restless for a time. Gradually she quieted and became lost in a land of dreams where she was pursuing the elusive Bright Arrow through a hot forest. Why did he tease her and tempt her, then flee and hide? she wondered.

  When she stirred the next morning, she was tense and stiff. The ridges beneath her tawny eyes were dark. She had not slept well. She glanced around for Windrider, and his expression told a similar tale.

  Rebecca went to the spring and washed her face and hands, then took her brush and worked the tangles from her hair. She walked to where Windrider was sitting. “Good morning,” she ventured when he remained rigid and silent.

  As if he hadn’t been aware of her presence, he shook his head and looked over at her. “You did not sleep well,” he remarked.

  Her gaze traveled over his weary features. “I kept you awake?” she asked. “I’m sorry, Windrider. Dreams plagued me all through the night.”

  He smiled. “You did not trouble me. Dreams also danced in my head, dreams of you, dreams of our life together.” He thought it best not to expose what had happened, or had nearly happened. And he knew it would be best not to question the subject of her dreams.

  “What do we have to eat?” she asked to break the strain.

  “Dried venison,” he jested.

  Her brow furrowed and she wailed in distress, “Please tell me you’re teasing. If I eat more venison, I will begin to look like a deer!”

  They both laughed. “What if we cook this?” he inquired playfully, pulling a fat bird with brightly colored feathers from his hunting bag. “We have three breadroots and one carrot. Will that fill the stomach of one lazy and hungry female?” he teased.

  “I am not,” she debated between giggles. ‘To prove it, I’ll gather the wood and build the fire. I’ll even clean the bird,” she added.

  “You do not need to prove your skills and value to me. We will work together,” he stated, exhibiting unusual behavior for an Indian male.

  “You don’t fool me, Windrider,” she taunted mischievously. “You don’t trust me out of your sight. You fear I’ll get into trouble. But if you insist, come along.”

  They gathered the wood, and Windrider built the fire while Rebecca plucked and cleaned the pheasant. She removed the longest feathers carefully, knowing their value as decorations. She cleaned their tips and handed them to Windrider. As he examined them, he smiled.

  The fowl took over an hour to roast. She warmed the breadroots and halved the wild carrot. When all was ready, they sat side by side and consumed the meal. She told him it was the best food she had ever eaten. He chuckled and replied it was only because she was weary of dried venison. As they waited for Cloud Chaser’s return, Windrider related tales of his coups and of tribal rivalries.

  Just as he began entre
ating her to reveal her life story, Cloud Chaser rode into the semi-enclosed area and dismounted. He had brought supplies with him, insuring them of better meals on their return trip. Rebecca watched him curiously. She was eager yet reluctant to hear his news. The Sioux warrior glanced at her, then spoke to Windrider in Cheyenne.

  “Cloud Chaser said you should sit on the buffalo mat. He must tend his horse. He will come and give you the words of his people,” Windrider told her gently, curious about Cloud Chaser’s odd mood.

  Rebecca walked to the shade tree and stood there a moment with her back to the men. She fretted over her state of mind. Was she prepared to hear Cloud Chaser’s words? Had this been a terrible mistake? It was too late to turn back now. She sat and waited.

  Windrider placed the supplies near the smoldering campfire. He asked in dread, “What did the council say? Did you speak with Gray Eagle and Shalee? Will they meet and talk with her?”

  Cloud Chaser stated in a voice inaudible to her, ‘There is no-need for us to trick her, Windrider. There is no need to guide her to the false trail we marked. You need not trap her to free Bright Arrow.”

  “I do not understand. Have they agreed to let her return as his wife?” Windrider questioned, two worry lines marking his forehead.

  “No,” the Sioux warrior replied calmly. “We joined as friends to end her hold over him. You were to make her choose you over him. If she did not, you were to dishonor her in his eyes. That game is over.”

  “You muddy my head. Did the council speak against her?” Windrider asked. Now that the awesome moment had arrived, he wanted to be certain he was doing the right thing for everyone involved.

  ‘They have since banished two other warriors who also chose white females. My people hate the whites, all whites. Why should we blind our eyes and cool our angry hearts for Bright Arrow and for no other warrior? He chose to love a white slave; he chose to leave with her. He can return, but not with her. The whites hate no Indian more than the Sioux.”