Passion's Series

by Adair, Mary

  With her eyes never leaving his, she angrily pulled her loincloth out of the way and squatted. With a condescending nod James turned his back and walked a few paces away to wait for her to finish.

  For now she would do what she had to do, but she would make him pay!

  Chapter Nine

  The second day proceeded much like the first except New Moon did not falter. As the day aged, James slowed his pace so by nightfall they ran at the back of the procession.

  New Moon resented his slower pace and sped up. A strong hand shot out to grasp her upper arm. She pulled against his grip, but his fingers dug into her flesh like steel bands.

  He yanked her to his side, not forcing her to run behind him, as any other warrior would have done. Still, his actions toward her left no doubt that, though permissive, he definitely remained in control. Like a parent with a child! Her anger seethed within her.

  Again, as the shadows of night closed in around them, James cradled New Moon in his arms and rubbed her ankle. She did not offer resistance. It would not stop him, and the attention to her ankle was greatly needed.

  After several minutes of massage he cut a strip from his waistcloth and tied it around her ankle. Using water from his own water pouch, he soaked the bandage through.

  The night air on the wet hide sent a chill through her tired limbs, but it felt wonderful on her swollen joint. With grudging respect she admitted to herself that what he did was good medicine. The cold compress would lessen the swelling by morning.

  Finally, satisfied with his handy work, he sat her gently to the forest floor. New Moon tried to rise, but James took her upper arms in an iron grip and pushed her down again.

  New Moon sought refuge in the heat of anger. Anger was better than the feeling of frustration and helplessness that assailed her. She was helpless. There was nothing she could do…and keep her honor.

  Turning to her side in a huff, she squeezed her eyes shut. A tiny tear of frustration escaped to make its way across her face. He enjoys making me bend to him! I can sleep sitting up the same as any warrior!

  She dug her fingers into the hard packed soil as she fought to control her tears, but they flowed afresh as her heart screamed out in silent anguish.

  He treats me like a weak squaw! If he cannot accept me as a woman from the warrior's clan... I will not accept him! She fumed silently. He does not want a woman who will fight at his side. No, he wants a weak squaw who will lie at his feet and look up at him with great weeping eyes, one that will scurry off to do his every bidding. He wants one who will spend her nights laboring for his pleasure. Well, he can have his squaw!

  She slapped the ground with her hand. When we get back to camp I will give my blessing to the first squaw who sets her eyes in his direction!

  Suddenly the vision of a woman, her hair the color of corn silks came to New Moon. In this waking dream James held the small woman tenderly within his massive arms while she looked up at him with eyes the color of a summer sky. New Moon trembled with the knowledge that this was a vision of what was to come.

  ***

  As the third day wore on with no sight of their prey, James found he could not concentrate long on looking for sign before his mind went back to New Moon.

  She accepted his instruction that morning without resistance; but it was obvious, as Dancing Cloud would say, that her heart was bad.

  New Moon stumbled, but James forced himself to ignore her and ran on, as did the other warriors.

  The sad sound of a whippoorwill broke gently on the breeze. The warriors stopped to kneel down and listen. In a few moments the signal repeated. In unison they rose and hurried toward the sound to see what the scout found.

  The three warriors who scouted ahead that morning had not returned as expected. Now, as the warriors approached with caution, they knew the worst had happened.

  James stood at a distance and let his eyes travel over the macabre scene. Blood covered the area…the ground…the rocks...the trees. Scattered about, like so many pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, were the body parts of the scouting party.

  He felt sick.

  James, concerned about how New Moon would handle the dismemberment of her friends, turned to offer her his support.

  He stopped and drew back. Her stance afforded him no liberty to intrude. No trace of tears showed in New Moon's eyes, no tiny tremors passing through her body; her face had not paled at the sight, but he sensed her sorrow as keenly as if it had reached out and touched him. He beheld her strength with a measure of awe.

  Never had he seen a woman hold her grief so tightly within her. It wasn't good. He wanted to carry her from the scene so she could cry out her anguish the way any other woman would. Did she think such behavior would make her look weak? Is this what it meant to her to be a warrior?

  The warriors moved about in silence as they scraped three shallow graves into the hard rocky ground. With the use of a stick or branch, for it would defile them to touch a dead body, the body parts were distributed among the graves. There was no way to know if the body parts placed with each head were from the same person.

  Everyone, including New Moon, set about collecting the largest rocks they could carry or roll to pile over each gravesite. From this time on any Cherokee that passed the three piles of stone would know that three warriors were buried there. They would use this spot to rest and to offer up prayers of honor and praise for the brave warriors.

  James looked up into the branches that stretched overhead and let the sounds of the forest soothe him. He looked back to the graves. It was a good place to rest. It was fitting.

  At the end of the third day, long after the others disappeared into the shadows of the forest, James looked down at New Moon trying to sleep at his feet. This high into the mountains, the nights were frigid even in the summer.

  New Moon shuddered and James wondered if it was from the damp and cold or if she remembered the sight of brave and beautiful warriors reduced to bloody pieces of unrecognizable flesh.

  He reached down and pulled her resisting body into his arms. He did not think she could keep up the present pace many more days. Dark smudges lay beneath her eyes, and her gait had faltered several times before the party finally stopped for the night.

  He shook her gently to stop her protest, but she struggled harder. His own exhaustion and uncertainty over allowing her to come wore heavily on him.

  Without thinking, he broke the rule of silence and whispered harshly in her ear, "Be still, woman! You'll not make it another day if you don't rest. Settle down and sleep, or I promise I'll take you back in the morning!" In his heart he knew he'd not take her back...it had become a point of honor and his own desire to prove himself to her.

  Her opinion of him became more and more important. He knew he could seduce her and the joining would be magnificent, but what about after the passion was spent? Her thoughts toward him would be no more than his own had been for the women he'd used in his lust. The thought did not sit well with him.

  Taking a deep breath New Moon relaxed and snuggled into the warmth of his arms. She slipped one arm around his waist to his back as she rubbed the open palm of the other over his chest.

  His muscles tightened and bunched as he tried to resist her warm touch. His reaction seemed to encourage her as she snuggled her face beneath his chin and nibbled at his neck. His entire body trembled as heat leapt from every point of contact and surged through his veins.

  Her fingers twined in his hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him close. She brought her lips to his ear and whispered softly, as her fingers kneaded the firm muscles of his chest, "Are you sure your thoughts are pure, warrior?"

  He wanted her. Oh, hell. He wanted her in a way he'd never wanted another woman in his life. His body burned. He drew in a deep breath as he moved his hand up her back. Taking a handful of her hair he slowly pulled her head away from his neck and lowered his lips to her ear. He whispered her name, and he felt her tense.

  For all of his traitorous body's
response, James knew this was another battle of wills. His anger flared almost as hot as his lust for her. She tested him again and again, but her actions would backfire. He was not the only one affected by her vicious teasing.

  As he traced the lobe of her ear with his tongue he felt her shiver. His hardened body surged with need in response. He pulled her closer and pushed himself against her. Shock wave after shock wave of sheer desire pounded from the core of his being to his groin.

  He slid his free hand down the outside of her thigh and slowly moved it over the top of her leg to rest his searching fingers on the inside of her knee. As he nibbled at her ear, he pushed her legs apart and slid his hand to the top edge of her leggings. There he gently caressed the tender part of her inner thigh. Inch by inch he moved upward.

  A soft moan escaped from between her lips, and he fought for control. Her fingers closed over his and she pulled, trying to bring his hand higher.

  Every nerve in his body screamed for him to continue. He was so close, it would be so easy, but he forced his body to become passive, his breath to become slow and even.

  ***

  New Moon immediately became aware of the change in him. When he spoke, she shivered at the cold, calculating way he said each word.

  "The way I see it, Little Wa-sa."

  His words cut into her like a sharp knife. He was going to reject her again. But this time would be worse. The emotion she heard in his voice was anger, not the barely contained desire she had heard before.

  "I could either break purification and return to the village in disgrace," he continued coldly, "or I could drop you on your pretty little backside and let you avenge your damned blood lust the best way you know how."

  The next thing New Moon knew, James dumped her to the ground and strode casually away. Her fingers gripped the ground as anger and pain welled up within her heart. For the second time he'd played with her, proved to her that he was more in control of her body than she was.

  She lay down on the damp ground and knew there would be little sleep this night. The hollow ache in her belly grew. When she thought her heart could hold no more pain, the pale face of a beautiful young white woman floated in the darkness before her. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the face remained to haunt her in her dreams.

  Chapter Ten

  The fourth day found the war party traveling cautiously toward the lower Cherokee town of Keeowhee, located on a river of the same name.

  James, though still with the war party, had not looked once in New Moon's direction. He was sure the other warriors would be thankful. They were closing in on their prey, which had proven to be as difficult to track and as deadly as Grandfather Snake. It was imperative that each warrior kept his mind on finding and following the signs, or risk endangering the entire party.

  James was angry with himself for his cruelty the night before, angry and confused. He was angry with himself for allowing what he'd seen to affect the way he'd treated New Moon, and confused about her attitude toward him.

  No woman had ever been so difficult for him to understand; or maybe it was his own emotions he was having difficulty with.

  She was attracted to him; there was no doubt about that. So why then did he not take her on her own terms? The terms were not unfamiliar to him. Perhaps once he sated his lust he'd be able to think more clearly and see her as just another woman. A liaison with no strings attached.

  He looked up and caught sight of New Moon a few paces to his left. She handed DuPrey his quiver! Why would she do that? He wasn't her warrior on this warpath! James' movement was swift and silent as he bore down on the two. DuPrey, seeing his approach, turned and silently disappeared into the forest.

  James reached out and took New Moon's upper arm in a firm grip and jerked her around to face him. Hard blue eyes glared into cold black, which refused to be intimidated. James knew his hold on her arm was painful and fought for control of his emotions. He'd never been heavy-handed to a woman and he didn't intend to start now.

  What was she doing to him? He'd almost done the unthinkable and forced a confrontation that would have shot all his well-laid plans to hell.

  New Moon's eyes flashed, her cute little chin raised defiantly. He relaxed his grip as a grin forced its way onto his lips. Pushing this little Wa-sa was dangerous and he had the scars to prove it.

  Slipping his quiver from his shoulder he placed it on hers. He watched in amusement as New Moon fumed like a boiling kettle. What a contradiction she was, angry because he didn't treat her like a squaw and even angrier when he did.

  As he turned from her to stalk into the woods, he swore to himself that the next time he pushed her to the ground it would not be to lie alone.

  ***

  New Moon showed signs of fatigue as the party made its way over and through the last of the rocky ledges in their descent to the lower town. James slowed his pace. As a result they were the last to leave the mountains. Earlier the enemy trail forked so their party split up to cover a larger area, hoping to encircle the three they tracked. James did not know what alerted him, but he swung around to face New Moon on the trail behind him.

  New Moon, seeing him tense even before he turned, dove to one side. There, where she would have been had she not jumped aside, stood a Mohawk warrior.

  As New Moon rolled to safety, the warriors collided in midair. She had not realized how exhausted she was, but now her fatigue weighed her down. Or was it fear?

  The Mohawk was large, almost as large as James. Their muscles strained as they wrestled, hands locked to each other's wrists. It was a matter of strength, of who would hold back the other's blade while making use of his own.

  Suddenly James dropped and New Moon's heart skipped a beat. The Mohawk, his support collapsing beneath him, flew forward to flip and land heavily on his back. James sprang to his feet immediately. Just as the Mohawk gained his footing, James' kick knocked the knife from his hand.

  The Mohawk looked from his numb fingers into the eyes of his opponent. As his black eyes locked with those of cold, clear blue he staggered as if he had seen his own death.

  James spoke to him in the beloved tongue of the Cherokee, "You are looking at your death. Will you die well?"

  The Mohawk answered in the same tongue, "My name is Screaming Eagle. I am a Great warrior. I have killed many of my enemies. I have protected my village! When it is time for me to die, I will die well!"

  With this he snatched a small tomahawk from his side and charged. If New Moon had been frightened before, she was in total paralysis now. The two warriors fought like wild dogs. They punched and gouged each other. They stabbed and swung with such speed and anger that blood flew from the melee and she could not tell whose blood flowed the heavier.

  Finally James saw an opening. He drove the blade deep into the diaphragm of the Mohawk and up to pierce his heart.

  James and Screaming Eagle were locked in a dance of death, which kept New Moon from knowing the victor.

  As Screaming Eagle looked deep into James' blue eyes and his life slipped from him. She heard James whisper respectfully in the beloved tongue of the Mohawk, "You have truly died well, warrior."

  The men broke apart as they dropped to the ground and rolled away from each other. New Moon watched for any sign of life from James. She hated the way fear clung to her insides as she scrambled toward his blood-covered body. Before she could reach him, he rose smoothly to his feet and she slumped to the ground in relief.

  With only a quick glance at New Moon, James moved silently to the fallen Mohawk. He dropped to his knees at the fallen warrior's side and reached down to take hold of his stiff scalp lock. Jerking the head up by the hair he slid his knife beneath the skin of his scalp. With a primitive grunt he jerked the hair up as it rent the last few inches from the fallen man's skull.

  James held the scalp high above his own head and felt the warm blood drip onto his upturned face. He fought to refrain from whooping in his exuberance as the adrenaline surged through his body like a s
avage madness.

  James turned to New Moon. She saw the bright glow of victory in his eyes and watched as he rose to his feet. He crossed the space that separated them in a few long steps.

  He retrieved both his own quiver and hers and slung them over his shoulder before reaching down to jerk New Moon to her feet. Without a word he roughly pushed her ahead of him.

  New Moon's emotions swung so quickly from fear to rage that her head swam. It was all she could do not to stagger. So now that he has killed a man in my sight he thinks I'll be properly submissive, she silently fumed. He takes my quiver and would proclaim me weak to the others'.

  He pushed her again and she stumbled forward.

  ***

  Silent Deer turned to watch as James and New Moon approached. James was covered in blood, but his easy movement indicated a lack of any serious wounds. After a quick assessing gaze Silent Deer's attention went to the scalp at James' waist. The warriors crowded around James and the air became electric with evidence of the first recounting of the blood lust.

  An eagle's shrill cry pierced the hushed silence and the warriors immediately bounded into the countryside. James looked up and watched the flight of the proud and noble bird until he was out of sight.

  New Moon pushed irritably at James' shoulder. When he turned his attention to her she pointed to Yellow Hawk who signed for them to move.

  The three slipped silently down the bank of a dry creek bed. Several feet above and below their position, more warriors did the same. As they made their way up the opposite bank, a war whoop sounded to their right. James, New Moon, and Yellow Hawk dashed toward the battle, their voices raised in answering call.

  Two Mohawk warriors sheltered behind a fallen log loosed their arrows as rapidly as any James had seen. Once all the war party assembled, they advanced on the two.

  When the battle finally ended, it was to reveal one Mohawk dead to nine fallen Cherokee, one of whom was New Moon.