Savage Conquest

by Janelle Taylor

  The Indian custom was to rest after lunch, but Miranda was too excited to take a nap. Her grandfather was in a council meeting, discussing the reports of two scouts who had returned during her bath. She decided to stroll around the camp to study the artistic adventures painted on the teepees while the village was still and quiet. Within an hour, she was at the edge of camp. She strolled to a large tree and leaned against it, her contented gaze sweeping over the sight of her grandfather's immense village.

  The thunderous sound of many hoofbeats seized her rambling attention. Panic filled her as she recalled tales of surprise raids on Indian camps. She rashly jumped from behind the tree, stepping into the path of a band of returning warriors. She screamed as she was knocked face down to the hard and dusty ground by the leader's horse.

  In their elated and distracted mood, the leader and his band almost raced over the reckless and inquisitive girl who had stepped from behind the tree. He was relieved to see she had been thrown aside before being trampled by the pounding hooves of seven horses. The startled warrior agilely bounded off his horse to check on her. He was scolding her furiously as she lifted her head to present his stunned senses with the same beautiful face which filled his dreams!

  Both were silent as they stared at each other. His astute gaze flashed over her tawny eyes and sunkissed skin, and the unmarred flesh which had been soiled by her fall. Her hair was as soft and dark as a bearskin, braided neatly. Having been about to speak, her lips were parted, displaying a mouth which was provocative and whose taste and softness he recalled too well. Her wide gaze revealed her astonishment at seeing him again. Yet, there was another emotion emblazoned there, an emotion which caused his loins to flame with desire, a response which made him forget where he was or who he was!

  Miranda could not pull her captive. gaze from the magnetic attraction of this man who had haunted her dreams for many weeks. Here he was before her once more, here with his arresting features and strong, virile body. He was like an intoxicating blend of stormy black and molten bronze. Her mouth was suddenly dry and she could not speak. Her heart was racing madly and she could not think. Her eyes were glued to him and she could not free them. Intense desire flooded her as she stared at this embodiment of manhood, this savage and powerful warlord of the Plains, this captor of her heart and inspiration of her fantasies. In her wildest imagination, she had not thought of finding him again, and surely not here in her grandfather's camp! How fortunate he had come to visit before her departure.

  The mutual trance which seemed to hold them was broken when the other warriors dismounted and surged forward to demand the identity of the beautiful Indian maiden. Miranda watched the mood of the handsome warrior as it changed rapidly, confusingly. His face was unpainted today, giving her a clear view of his mounting fury and resentment, reactions she could not understand. With feet planted apart in an arrogant and forbidding stance, he glared at her, refusing to offer her assistance in rising. He merely gaped at the hand she extended entreatingly for his help, gaped as if it were leprous.

  For a brief time, she had presumed he was glad to see her. Now, he was acting as if they were strangers, foes. She had watched coldness cover the warmth on his face and freeze his eyes. Why? She slowly and gracefully stood up and dusted off her clothes and bare arms. The other males were laughing, teasing, and ribbing each other as they watched her closely, watched her and the curious behavior of their leader. Miranda did not know what to say.

  He stood tall and erect, recalling the day he had secretly watched her riding with the female scout from Fort Sully. He berated himself for not capturing her that day or one of the other times they had met. He knew where she lived, in that small wooden teepee near the fort. He knew a white man shared that teepee, the one who had traveled with her to his land. Now she was the captive of another warrior, out of his reach forever. He cursed his pride which had prevented her capture, his ego which had wanted to be spared the teasing and taunting of other warriors at his taking a white slave. In the back of his mind, he had known he would fall prey to his desires one day. He had known he would attack that cabin during the night and ride away with her bound to his body, to become his slave. Now that was impossible; he could never take her after another manl

  The instant that thought left his tormented mind, he knew it was a lie. She could not be blamed for her capture, or any treatment afterward. He had seen the way her eyes lit up with joy and relief when they touched upon him. Whatever price her captor asked, he would pay it. He had to pay it and have her. Yet, his honor had to remain intact. He could not reveal love and desire for this white girl. He silently prayed she had not been injured, then realized how exceptionally clean and healthy she appeared. Surely she wasn't Indian or half-blooded? Surely she wasn't some warrior's wife or willing whorel

  Miranda and the others were stunned and baffled when he sarcastically demanded to know whose captive whore she was. Before she could recover from the staggering insult to respond, others questioned his words to her. He coldly revealed she was a white girl from Fort Sully who had come to this land recently. He told them she had been on the boat he had trailed while stalking the two soldiers he had been ordered to slay. He related how they had been killed by a forest warrior while trying to rape this very girl.

  Unaware she understood his words and the degrading meaning behind them, she was speechless in disbelief and anguish. She did not realize the warrior was infuriated by his stupefied reaction to her, angered in his belief that she was out of his reach, nettled by his weakness toward her before his band. Miranda's watchful and wary gaze shifted from warrior to warrior as they stared at her differently now, disdainfully.

  When he cruelly asked again in English whose whore she was her wits and words returned in a fury of her own. "No man's! Get away from me, you savage beast!" She whirled to leave.

  The warrior's hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist painfully, yanking her against his hard chest and rigid body. "Whose teepee holds such a sharp tongue and brazen whore?" he pressed boldly as the others watched his curious actions, for one warrior did not touch another's slave.

  Through clenched teeth, she snapped in vexation, "I am no man's whore. I sleep in the teepee of Bloody Arrow and Sun Cloud."

  She was determined to yank free of this insolent, smug, and cruel master of her heart. She owed him no explanation! "Release me before I cut off your offensive hand! Don't ever touch me or come near me again," she threatened.

  Her previous statements had enticed a strange reaction. "You live in the teepee of Sun Cloud and Bloody Arrow?" he pressed skeptically.

  Since he was speaking in English, so did she. "Yes. Sun Cloud will slay you if you harm me," she warned icily.

  "You do not belong to Bloody Arrow?" He needed clarification but wondered what he would do if she said yes.

  "Of course not!" she sneered as if insulted. "I belong to Sun Cloud," she added vaguely, wanting to flee this painful scene. His grip was as firm and confining asa band of steel.

  Sun Cloud was told of the quarrel outside camp involving Tamaha and the warriors. He arrived and demanded her release. Miranda fled into the protective and affectionate embrace of her grandfather, trying not to sob. Sun Cloud smiled at her and patted her shoulder, his gaze settling angrily on the man who had dared such an offense.

  One of the younger warriors rashly teased, "Surely our old chief does not take a white whore to his mats at his great age? If she is for trade, speak her price," he coaxed, as others added their bids.

  Outrage filled the older man. He drilled his snowclouded, ebony eyes into the oddly furious leader of this group. With a distinct voice, he informed them, "This is Tamaha, my granddaughter, child of Morning Star, my daughter. Do not ever touch or insult her again, or I will forget I am an old man. I will paint for a challenge with the warrior who dares to dishonor or hurt her, including you, Blazing Star."

  At that name, Miranda's head jerked upward and she stared at the man whom her grandfather had called Blazing Sta
r. As if no one else were present, she asked in a trembling voice, "You're Blazing Star?" He had shown astonishment at her identity, but he blinked in disbelief when she spoke fluent Oglala. When he nodded, she paled, suddenly realizing what distinctive and dream-inspiring odor had assailed her each night, each night upon this man's sleeping mat.

  Miranda told Sun Cloud she was fine. She left her grandfather's embrace to flee as if demons were chasing her. When Sun Cloud questioned their strange behavior, Blazing Star asked the others to leave for privacy. He explained how he knew Miranda. Sun Cloud asked him why she had fled in fear; Blazing Star honestly replied he did not know. The old chief asked what had taken place between them today. Blazing Star ruefully repeated his words, abruptly comprehending that she had known what he said. Sun Cloud related her arrival and story.

  "She did not know about me?" he inquired anxiously.

  "She has heard many tales of the great warrior called Blazing Star, from Indians and whites. She has not asked about a warrior who saved her from the grizzly, who paints his face as you do. She has not asked who shoots arrows tipped with red and black. She sleeps upon your mat each moon. You return before enough suns pass. She is to leave soon. I did not tell her you lived in my teepee," he replied.

  He was dismayed she had not inquired about him, since she had understood his Sioux words at each meeting. Her identity explained her previous lack of fear or scorn toward him. Blazing Star was intrigued by where she was sleeping and her reaction at seeing him. She had not expected the man who met her secretly to be the famed Blazing Star. "Did Bloody Arrow tell her I live in your teepee?" he pressed oddly.

  "I do not know. Why do you ask such a question?"

  Blazing Star deceived the old man by saying defensively, "She will be eager to leave now that I am home and she uses my mat."

  "We can borrow a mat for her for two moons," he announced.

  "Two moons?" Blazing Star echoed in bewilderment.

  "She was to stay for five suns; three have passed. She will return to her people soon," Sun Cloud explained.

  "Why must she go?" the warrior asked quietly.

  "You know why, Blazing Star. Soon the white waters will try to roll over us and drown us. I do not wish her to find pain and death. She has been raised white; she must return to that world."

  "She does not wish to live here with her grandfather?" he pried.

  "She has not asked. If she does, I will refuse. I must," he stated sadly, sounding as old and weary as he looked at that moment.

  "What of the white man who traveled with her?" he questioned.

  Sun Cloud looked at him. "He is as Bloody Arrow to her. Luke puts words on papers for others to read. He comes secretly and cunningly as the fox, seeking to record the soldiers' evil. His eyes are on butchers and Yellowhair. And your eyes speak words I have not seen written there before. Do I see love and desire? Do I read pain and anger? Do I read jealousy and shame? Tell me if these eyes are too old and clouded."

  Blazing Star fused his gaze to Sun Cloud's. He replied truthfully, "I cannot explain feelings I do not understand. There is a pull from her as strong and mysterious as the one to our sacred hills. I have resisted its power and magic, for I believed her white. But...

  When he wavered in confusion, Sun Cloud smiled and remarked, "But she is not. She is the granddaughter of a chief, the daughter of a princess, from the blood of Gray Eagle."

  "Such truth makes trouble for us, Grandfather," he concluded aloud, using the endearing name he called this beloved man. He chuckled as he said, "I hurt her with cruel words, yet she fought as a wildcat, Grandfather. Can she be tamed?"

  "The answer is, who should be the man to try?" he jested slyly.

  "Has another warrior cast hungry eyes upon her?" he asked worriedly, wondering if he must battle for her.

  "Many," Sun Cloud replied mirthfully. "But none have brought the lights to her eyes as you did," he whispered devilishly.

  Blazing Star recalled their past meetings and smiled happily. The smile quickly faded as he recalled his behavior today. "I must speak with her," he declared, dreading her reaction.

  A lone rider approached with a message from Bloody Arrow, telling Sun Cloud the band had joined with one from the Cheyenne camp. They were heading into the Black Hills to make raids upon the camps of white trappers who had intruded upon their sacred ground. The message stated they would be gone for one or two moons. The rider mounted up again and headed to join his friends on their bloodthirsty trek.

  Blazing Star smiled and remarked roguishly, "We have no need now to borrow a sleeping mat, Grandfather."

  The two exchanged smiles and matching thoughts. At Blazing Star's request, Sun Cloud headed for the special council meeting. Blazing Star returned to their teepee to find Miranda sitting on the ground near the stone pit used for cooking. Lost in thought, she failed to hear his approach. It was a stirring voice which had become familiar to her that broke her intense concentration.

  "I spoke too hastily and cruelly, Tamaha," he told her.

  Miranda battled to keep her gaze from him as he spoke a sort of apology. She wanted to scream at him, to refuseit. He had hurt her, embarrassed her. She did not want to behave childishly or reveal her turmoil, so she let him know of her anger by ignoring him completely. How she wished she had something to occupy her hands and attention! It was alarming to be alone with him, to know his name and rank.

  He saw she was not ready to listen or forgive. "So be it," he informed her calmly. "When your temper cools, we will talk."

  Her head jerked upward and she glared at him. "I have no words for you, now or later. I will leave in the morning."

  "Do you run from me or yourself, Tamaha?" he inquired in a husky tone. "A girl who challenged the eye and claws of the grizzly to save another's life showed more courage than I see in you this sun."

  "I was not the one who came and went in secrecy, Blazing Star. I'm leaving because there is no room in my grandfather's teepee," she explained, trying to excuse her hasty flight from his closeness.

  "I am glad you are here, Tamaha. Bloody Arrow will not return for two moons. You will sleep on his mat, unless you wish to stay on mine," he murmured seductively. "I wish-"

  "I wish to share nothing of yours, you arrogant beast!" she panted at him as he teased her playfully, cutting off his tender words.

  "I did not say share, Tamaha. Sleep where you will; it matters not to me," he stated flippantly to goad her.

  "It matters to me," she vowed sullenly.

  "And to me," he contradicted himself, grinning at her. "It matters, if it is not alone, or with me."

  She was about to take his beguiling bait when his grin alerted her to his ruse. "I have heard you rarely sleep alone," she sneered before thinking, then blushed at her shameful boldness.

  He warmed to the spark of jealousy in her. "The speaker of such words is a liar. For many moons, I have craved but one female, one female I have denied myself," he stated suggestively, meaningfully.

  Miranda did not know how to respond to such a statement, so she remained silent. She dared not ask the name of the woman, fearing she was wrong to think it was she.

  He hunkered down before her and said, "Grandfather has gone to council. I must join him. We will talk later," he stated firmly.

  Their gazes locked; neither moved. His hand reached out to run the back of it over her flushed cheek. "You are beautiful, Tamaha. I feared you were another's captive. You should not put such conflict in me," he murmured mysteriously, his dark eyes glowing strangely.

  "Conflict?" she echoed hoarsely, her anger a thing of the past.

  His thumb rubbed over her lips very gently, noting her erratic breathing. "You have caused my mind to war with my body."

  "I do not understand," she responded naively.

  He was disappointed by her words. "If you do not, a battle does not rage within you. We will return of ter the moon passes overhead."

  He was gone before she could ask for a clearer explanation. Ho
w she wished he had embraced and kissed her! Was she a wanton creature? Her mind was spinning in confusion and her body ached with a strange ... Conflict? Battle? Did he mean what she was thinking?

  Blazing Star had spoken accurately; it was long past midnight when the two men returned from the meeting. She had tossed and turned for hours, trying to understand this complex man and this new situation. Their reunion had been most unexpected; his reaction, most disturbing and distressing. Try as she did, she could not get this afternoon off her mind. She was deeply concerned over his chilly and almost brutal conduct at first sighting her today. Before, he had not seemed to care that she was white. But in front of his people, particularly the other warriors, it had made a vivid difference. Was it so essential, so significant that she was proven Indian or half Indian? From what she had heard and witnessed, it was worse to be half-blooded! She fretted over his treatment when he had viewed her as white, a slave. She could not help but wonder how he would feel and act if she had appeared in his life again as another's "captive whore," white or Indian. If he had seen her being abused by a cruel master, would he have done anything to help her? It was the contradictions in his behavior which plagued her. His affection and desire had been shown only in secret, and the complete change in him when he understood her relationship to Sun Cloud confused Miranda even more. She reflected, too, on his seductive behavior and stirring words when they had been alone in this teepee. She cautioned herself to be still after they entered quietly, hoping they would not realize she was still awake.

  But the moment Blazing Star lay upon his mat, he smiled into the darkness. Her fragrance still clung to it, a scent which aroused his body to sensual hunger. He should have known she would change mats after learning whose she had been sleeping on for nights. He could not stop thinking about how close she was to him; yet she was so far out of his reach.