“You, my good friend, best keep your thoughts to your own woman and not concern yourself with mine,” Two Moons answered in jest. He slid down off the rock. Blue Eye's cry caught his attention. He glanced over to see her staring down at her hand.
His mother ordered her to pick up the wood that lay scattered at her feet and to place it by the fire. Blue Eyes just stared in silence.
Two Moons dropped his unfinished arrow into the quiver at his side and casually began to stroll in the women's direction.
Shadow Elk followed. “I have angered you?”
Two Moons glanced to the man beside him. “Nothing you could ever say would anger me. You are my brother. If not for you I would still be rotting in some white man's cage. Your face was a welcome sight that day in the soldiers’ walled village.”
Two Moons stopped abruptly and placed his hand on his friend's arm.“I owe you my life.”
“I would gladly give up my life for yours.” Shadow Elk replied. “When the spirits tells us, you and I will go back to Long Hair Custer and his blue coats who hide at the fort. We will get our revenge.”Anger lit his friend's eyes. The cutting edge of hatred filled his voice.
Shadow Elk's face clouded with uncertainties. “The scars, have they healed?” he asked, concerned. “I can have Chahanpi rub some salve on them, unless you had thoughts of another's hands on your back?”
Two Moons glanced at Blue Eyes. “You, my friend, have thoughts for only one thing. I think you'd best marry Chahanpi with great haste.”
Her arms now laden with wood, Blue Eyes failed to notice the rock in front of her. His stride quick, Two Moons moved closer. He caught her before she hit the ground. The wood, spilled over his arms with a rolling thud. The women turned, watching as he gathered her up into his arms. He glared at them. Let them all talk. He turned on his heels and carried her away.
She gave him no resistance and wrapped her arms around his neck in fear of falling. He would never let her fall. Carrying her to his lodge, he nudged open the flap with his shoulder and walked inside. Kneeling, he sat her down on his bed of buffalo skins. A streak of dirt smudged the side of her nose and cheek. The urge to wet his finger and wipe that mark away, made his hand itch.
He reached over and picked a small twig from her knotted hair. His gaze traveled over her face and searched her eyes. Her silence and lifeless stare made his heart heavy. He would rather feel her claws upon his chest than see the defeat in her pale blue eyes.
He straightened and glanced to his backrest for his carry bag. Seeing the parfleche hanging there, he walked over, opened the leather flap, and reached inside. The clean white cloth in hand, he bent down, picked up the water bag by his feet and returned to her side. Kneeling once more, he unlaced the bag and dipped the cloth into the tepid water. She tensed as the cloth touched her cheek.
Through half-opened lids she watched him. His eyes riveted on hers, he gently wiped the grime from her neck and shoulder. Already, his body anticipated what his eyes did not see and he became aroused. Slowly, he pushed aside the cloth from her other shoulder exposing her skin. His heart began thumping like a played drum, increasing its rhythm with each inch he moved the cloth downward.
Hesitating, he stared into the space beyond her. He had traveled this dangerous path before. Would it be wise to do so again? He knew her body too well. Knew every curve. Knew how soft she would feel beneath his hands and how that softness would make him hard and ache to hold her close. His body begged him to take her. Every day watching her had been torturous. Every day the battle between his body and his mind exhausted him. His silent vow haunted him. She was his slave to do with as he pleased; yet he would not take her against her will.
When she worked alongside the other women his eyes were on her and her alone. He had noticed the way her hips swayed when she walked and the movement of her breasts under that thin cloth she wore. Every time she bent down and he saw her shapely legs, he longed to kiss the hollow spot in the back of her knees. Never had a woman had such an effect on him.
With great care he slowly slid the cloth over her collarbone, then down to linger at the swell of her breasts. His fingers quivered. A heat spread to his groin, an intense surge of desire that would grow until he ached with a hardness he knew would be impossible to stop. He had but to leave, just leave-
Her eyes flew open. She grabbed his wrist, stopping his movements. “Ouch.” Her cry, a bare whisper, was like an arrow piercing his heart. Hastily she withdrew her hand. He caught it. For an instant her eyes widened with alarm and his only desire for the moment, was for her not to fear him.
****
A moment's panic sliced through Gabrielle. Not from the man who held her hand tightly in his, but from the awakening of feelings she had long ago buried away. Feelings that had died at the altar when her fiancé, Robert, had left her standing there. She had vowed to never trust men, to never let herself fall victim to their desires, to shield herself from hurt and betrayal.
“Takomni wacinmayaye yo.”
Her pulse beat erratically at the sound of his voice. She wished she could understand what he was saying.
She trusted him. Somehow she knew deep down in her heart she would be safe with him. A feeling of deja vu, as if they had shared this moment once before, overwhelmed her.
He bent his head, brought her hand closer and examined her finger. He glanced to his hip, drew out his knife, then glanced up at her. Her heart pounded but not from fear. Drawn into the deep, endless darkness of his eyes, she was vaguely aware of the slight scraping sensation on her skin as the tip of his knife gently picked at the splinter.
He had the most sensual eyes, compelling, magnetic; and his face- “I'd love to sculpt that handsome face of yours.”
The words came out in a rush, slicing the tension in the air-shattering the silence. It didn't matter. What did he understand? Not much. “And those perfectly formed lips-God, you have great eyes.”
She studied his face, imagining the feel of his high cheekbones beneath her fingers. She knew just how she'd mold that proud square jaw line, how she'd create those thin lines of age around his eyes and-
The warmth of his lips against her finger, fanned her growing need. She drew in a sizzling breath as he opened his mouth, placed her finger inside and sucked.
“Please… “The heat of his mouth, like the flick of a match on its cover brought an instant fire to her limbs. “Don't,” she begged, slightly light-headed.
She couldn't think straight. Didn't want to. Knew she should.
“No, I… “She swallowed dryly. … Shouldn’t. The silent word echoed in her head.
He released her finger and leaned closer. She could almost feel his lips upon hers. A shiver of anticipated excitement rippled through her. She closed her eyes.
Outside the drums beat wildly-as did her heart.
A second passed-an eternity. She remained absolutely motionless and held her breath. Waiting. Hoping…
Nothing happened.
Gabrielle's eyes flew open. An unwelcome blush crept into her cheeks when she realized he had changed his mind. She watched as Two Moons jerked his body away, stood up in a frenzied wave of motion, and with long purposeful strides, headed outside.
****
“Bring me a bottle of the White Man's whiskey,” Two Moons demanded to Chahanpi who stood by the fire stirring the steaming broth. Too surprised to do anything more than nod, she turned, not waiting for an explanation. He knew what she was thinking. Firewater was the white man's bad magic. His father had told him that as a boy. He himself had said the same many times when others had downed the fiery liquid during their celebrations.
He watched as she disappeared inside a lodge, then came out hiding the bottle in the folds of her skirt.
“She does not sleep well at night,” he explained when she reached his side. Neither did he. Two Moons frowned and glared at Chahanpi. Why should he care if Blue Eyes was exhausted, or try to help? She was the same as every pale face, he had met who s
aid one thing and meant another. No, she had said. But her telling stare had spoken differently, confusing him.
Chahanpi cast her eyes downward, but not before he saw the amusement in her gaze. They all thought Blue Eyes' lack of sleep was his fault, he thought with cynicism. Little did they know.
She handed him the bottle.
Two Moons crossed his arms before him. “You see that she drinks it.”
“I will bring her some fresh clothes?” Chahanpi asked, searching his eyes for an answer.
“Bring her what you want. It matters not to me.”
He glanced to his lodge where he knew Blue Eyes sat wondering why he had left like the twisted winds. He had come too close to giving in to the hunger that still burned in his loins. But her words had said “stop,” and he had vowed never to force himself on an unwilling woman.
He glanced toward his sister’s lodge. Gentle Fawn, the reason he could not quench his thirst for Blue Eyes. His thoughts strayed to that horrible night when his sister, wracked by gut wrenching cries, had fallen asleep on his lap. That night he had seen the scars a man’s unwanted advances could leave. He could not forget what Hay O Wai, Yellow Hair, had done to his sister. Now a half-bred child lived among them. Now his sister lived in shame.
Abruptly Two Moons turned his gaze back to Chahanpi who stood silently observing him. A faint smile touched her lips. Was his attraction to Blue Eyes so apparent? Did the entire village think him a fool?
“Well, what are you waiting for?” he questioned harshly. “See that she gets cleaned up.”
A stab of guilt attacked as he watched Chahanpi scurry toward his lodge. He shouldn't have taken his anger out on her. It wasn't her he was angry with.
The scars still raw upon his back, how could he forget what the Long Knives had done to him and his family. He closed his eyes, recalling the father who no longer walked this earth. Many moons had passed and still the memory so fresh and vivid, filled his mind as thick and heavy as the clouds of dust had filled his eyes that day. In every battle he now fought, with every blast of the white man's stick of fire, he was instantly back to that day, hearing the lead whistling overhead as bullets tore through the poles of the lodges. The screams of the women as they frantically gathered their children in their arms still drummed in his ears.
He had stood in the midst of his burning village, watching his friends and those he loved dying around him. In the confusion that followed, he saw his father mounted on his big gray war pony, riding toward him, calling his name, telling him to run with the other children and hide. It had only been when the bullets pierced his father's back that he had had the courage to move. It had been only then, standing over his father's body, that he had realized his father was dead. It was then that he, a child of ten summers, had sworn a vengeance on all those that were not of his people.
Two Moons stopped pacing and opened his eyes. The sun sat low behind his lodge. Blue Eyes was not of his people. It would be best he remembered that. Still…
He could not let any harm come to her. Screams of frustration stuck in the back of his throat. If she were not his Spirit Woman, he should send her back to her people. He did not need her here to tempt him with her womanly curves. Yet, if she was the woman in his vision, she should be treated not as a slave, but with honor. How was he to know the truth?
He clenched his jaw in silent determination. He would not let the people of his village think Blue Eyes crazy as they did his sister. If he had to put aside his hatred for the white man's tongue and speak to Blue Eyes, he would do so; he would give in to the white man's ways this once, if for nothing more than to tell Blue Eyes what was expected of her. This he would have to do.
It was time she knew his secret.
Chapter Eight
It was barely morning when Gabrielle felt Rattling Blanket nudging her side. Gabrielle rolled over, ignoring her. Why didn't that woman leave her alone? God. She had never missed her own home's peace and solitude more than she did at this very moment. Every day, everywhere she turned, eyes watched. Every time she did something wrong, there were gossiping old biddies to spread the news. And it wasn't much better trying to sleep next to Two Moons, whose physical closeness throughout the night was a constant turn on, or listening to his mother who kept her up half the night snoring.
Jostled roughly a second time, she sat up. “All right already.” She yawned and stretched, easing away the night's kinks, then stood. The clean dress Chahanpi had given her clung heavily against her body and despite its smooth appearance, felt slept in. She glanced down at the knee-length elk-skin garment. A few more days without a bath, and she was going to need a gallon of perfume! She wrinkled her nose and turned her head away.
He always smelled so clean, as though he had just showered, she thought, annoyed, studying Two Moons' sleeping form. Even his clothing, whether it be the fringed leather buckskin leggings, or the quilled skin vest he wore, hung with perfection on that lithe body of his. Damn his rotten soul! None of the other men had that same clean look. Maybe if he smelled of bear grease and sweat she'd be less attracted to him. And why didn't he sleep in more than that breechclout-
She hurried toward the opening, paused by the door, and stole him a quick glance.
Why had he chosen last night to release her? For the first time in days, he had left her hands unbound. Did he sense she no longer feared him? Maybe he thought the whiskey Chahanpi had brought her would have knocked her out for the night. It had, for the most part. Thank God. She would never have fallen asleep thinking about the way he had left her practically kissing the air. Why had he fled from her as if he couldn't run away fast enough? The bum. She'd felt like a fool. He just got up and left, abandoned her like all the other men in her life.
The camp bustled with activity. A large number of unfamiliar tepees had been erected during the night. Painted with colorful pictures of horses, stars, birds and various geometric shapes, all were arranged in big circles, with each opening facing the rising sun. Women from other tribes stood around laughing and chatting with women she had come to recognize. Fires burned and meat boiled in pots. It was going to be another hot day. Already she felt sticky. Summer's heaviness hung the air.
Rattling Blanket stood in the clearing, waiting. “Opeya,” she ordered.
Gabrielle had heard that word enough times to know she was to come and follow. Quickly she started after the older woman, only too happy to get away from Two Moons. Led to the river bank where women of all shapes and sizes frolicked in the water, Gabrielle stopped.
Could it be she was finally going to be allowed to bathe? She glanced over to Rattling Blanket, who dropped her dress without giving any indication that she was to do the same and joined the others.
Chahanpi hurried over. Gabrielle smiled, relieved to see a friendly face.
“Come, you must join me.” Chahanpi stepped in front of her.
Gabrielle glanced over Chahanpi's shoulder to see a group of young girls splashing and bobbing about in the sparkling water.”I don't know…”
Chahanpi stripped off her dress and stood before her, uninhibited by her nakedness. “You must. It is Two Moons' wish that you bathe with us. Besides,” she laughed. “You stink.”
Gabrielle watched as she ran to the water's edge, turning once to call her. She couldn't help but notice Chahanpi still wore the crude chastity rope around her middle. The first time she had read that Native Americans had worn a “chastity rope” she’d been surprised. She’d always been under the impression that only medieval women wore such a device. It was amazing how two very different cultures were, in many ways, so similar. Still, she frowned. How could any woman stand to wear the barbaric thing? Was she ever glad to be rid of hers.
“Come. The water is fine. Come join me,” Chahanpi shouted, before she plunged into the river's depths.
Gabrielle hesitated. Maybe she was being a prude, but stripping down to her birthday suit and joining in wasn't something she was comfortable with, no matter how inviting the wate
r looked. What about the men? Didn't these women wonder if the men from the camp could see them?
She glanced down to her bare feet and her dirty ankles. She could feel the sweat pouring down between her breasts. The hot sun beat down on her shoulders. She chewed her lip, debating. This might be her only chance. She glanced to the river shaded by bending pines and larches whose branches drank the river's coolness. Swift waters ran over small rocks, foaming white and inviting…
Chahanpi was right. She did stink. Glancing quickly behind her, Gabrielle, pulled off her dress and ran. If her mother could see her now, she'd never hear the end of it.
She hit the water with a splash. Ducking beneath the cool surface, her tension subsided. Heaven. Truly heaven, she thought as she kicked her feet and moved her arms before her. At the sound of children's laughter, Gabrielle glanced to the shore to see the little boy who had been her savior. At his side ran that wild beast of his. She was reminded of an article Roy had written about how man should try to be one with nature and learn from it. Too bad he wasn't here to see this, she thought, longing to see a familiar face, one of her own century.
“Curly is of Two Moons' family,” Chahanpi remarked casually, as she floated over. “Though it is sad, Two Moons, does not acknowledge him.”
Speechless, Gabrielle stared back at her. A son? He had a son? What did Two Moons' wife think about her presence in her husband's lodge all these days? Could it have been her cynical laughter she had heard the morning the wolf had been in the tepee?
God, what an absolute jerk she was to have been attracted to him.
“The boy is part white. That is why Two Moons refuses him, isn’t it?”
A momentary look of discomfort crossed Chahanpi’s face as she nodded in agreement.
“How cruel of him.” Gabrielle frowned. “Where's the boy's mother?
Chahanpi held out a lump of lye soap. “Gentle Fawn is at the camp. You will meet her.”
A Find Through Time Page 9