by Robin Gideon
A moment later, he withdrew. With her legs still up on his shoulders, he unleashed a torrent of semen against her stomach and breasts. She stroked him gently and watched as a last drop of cum formed at the tip.
"You are amazing,” she said in a whisper as she rubbed the final drop away with her thumb.
"No, darling, you're the one who's amazing.” He leaned back so that he was sitting on his feet and eased her legs off his shoulders. “I've made another mess of you."
Samantha's reply was cut short when, on the other side of the tepee, Moon uttered a high-pitched, squealing sound, lifted her hips off the blanket, and fingered herself into what was obviously a very powerful orgasm. When her orgasm ended and her slender body was naked and relaxed on the blankets, she smiled weakly at Samantha, then rolled onto her side and promptly fell asleep.
"Does she really live here with you?” Samantha asked.
Blade picked up a small, folded blanket, opened it with a snap of his wrist, then began slowly and lovingly wiping away the residue of his desire from Samantha's cooling body.
"It is tradition,” he said, as though those three words explained everything. “There's not much I can do about tradition."
Samantha closed her eyes, feeling the delicate touch of his loving hands as he cleaned her body carefully and tenderly. She loved Blade. There could be no doubting it. But equally true was that the man she loved lived in a tepee with a very attractive young squaw who was clearly ready, willing, and able to share her passion with him. Samantha knew in her heart she would have to confront those unsettling facts soon ... just not tonight.
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Chapter Six
Samantha came gently awake the next morning alone on a bed of buffalo hides. Blinking away sleep, she faintly recalled Blade kissing her eyelids and murmuring that he had work to do and that she should continue resting.
With a sleepy smile, she yawned and stretched, warmly recalling the hours of lovemaking she had gloried in the previous evening. His sexual stamina, his orgasmic discipline, and his ability to recuperate were all astonishing. Samantha couldn't remember how many times she had climaxed.
Blade was an expert with his hands, with his lips and tongue, and with his cock, and he had spent hours proving his skill. He knew just how to heighten the sensual tension until it was nearly unbearable and then provide the release with an orgasm that left her shaken to the core and satisfied to the marrow.
And he knew enough not to climax inside her. However much Samantha was enjoying this idyllic time with Blade and his Northern Comanche tribe, she was an unmarried woman, and he was showing no signs of relinquishing his bachelorhood.
She didn't know what the customs were among the Northern Comanche regarding out-of-wedlock births, but in her world, such a stain on her character would prevent her from ever again teaching in a school for white children. And having an out-of-wedlock child with Indian blood would add further complications that Samantha didn't even want to consider.
Somewhat grudgingly, she opened her eyes. Through the smoke hole in the tepee, she could see the sun was up and had been for at least an hour. When she looked across the tepee, Moon was sitting with her legs folded beneath her. She was combing her long, silky hair with a factory-made hairbrush. She was also completely naked and clearly comfortable with her nudity.
Rather hesitantly, Samantha said, “Good morning."
Continuing to brush her hair, Moon replied, “Good morning.” And then, after several weighty seconds, she added a bit cattily, “Did you sleep well ... once you decided to sleep?"
A pink blush crept into Samantha's neck and cheeks. She pushed herself into a sitting position on the buffalo robes but kept the light wool blanket wrapped around her naked body. She wasn't nearly as comfortable with her nudity as Moon appeared to be.
After deliberating for a moment on what her answer should be, Samantha finally decided on going with the truth. “Yes, I did sleep well,” she said with a tone that subtly hinted at an inner sense of triumph.
Silence hung in the tepee like a black, ominous cloud. Samantha watched Moon's small, firm breasts move tautly as she brushed her hair. Would Blade prefer it if she had small breasts, like Moon's? Would he prefer her nipples to be a deep chocolate brown, instead of a pale pink? These were not comfortable questions, but ones her insecurities insisted be addressed.
"His brother knew how to make love, too."
The statement, delivered in a no-nonsense tone by Moon, made Samantha's heart seize up in her chest. After several seconds, she had to consciously force herself to exhale and inhale again. She hadn't wanted to get into a battle with Moon, but now it seemed inevitable.
"My husband was magnificent. Like Blade, he could make love all night long.” Vestiges of sorrow showed in Moon's dark eyes. “He made me feel like I was the only woman in the world. His love made me feel like a...” She made a motion with her hands and her brow furrowed. “I don't know the word in English. Umm..."
Samantha looked within herself for an answer, thinking about how Blade's lovemaking made her feel. “Like a goddess?"
Moon's face broke into a beaming smile. “Yes, like a goddess.” She parted her hair down the middle and began braiding one side, but as her hands worked her hair, her eyes never left Samantha's.
"What do you want to ask me?” Samantha finally said. “I call tell there's a lot on your mind."
"Blade is a good lover, no?"
"Blade is a good lover, yes."
"He is a wonderful hunter, too. He can kill many buffalo in the summer. And in the winter, when we go into the mountains, he always finds deer and elk for us to eat. He can provide enough meat for four or five families.” She sighed softly, used a piece of blue ribbon to secure the bottom of her braid, then began braiding the opposite side. “That is why I do not understand you."
Samantha's brow furrowed. “I'm not sure I know what you mean.” She also wasn't sure she wanted to know what Moon meant, but the young widow seemed quite determined to get answers, even if Samantha didn't want to provide them.
"I do not understand why you are so selfish."
The statement made Samantha sit up a little straighter. She secured the blanket around herself, wondering if perhaps Moon's somewhat limited grasp of English might be to blame.
Samantha cleared her throat, looked away for several seconds, then replied, “In what way am I selfish?"
"To keep Blade all to yourself. He is man enough for both of us. He is a true warrior. My husband is gone, so Blade provides for my needs. But my bed is empty and my period of mourning for my husband is over. I do not see why you keep Blade all to yourself and do not share him.” This time it was Moon who briefly looked away in discomfort. “Have I done something to make you dislike me?"
Moon tied off the second braid with a red ribbon and then tossed both braids over her shoulders. She got to her feet, and Samantha saw that the young widow's mons pubis was completely smooth and hairless. Insecurities again welled up inside Samantha as she wondered whether Blade found her pubic hair—as Constance had earlier explained—a sign of poor personal hygiene. She suddenly felt a bit unclean.
"No, you haven't done anything wrong.” Her voice was a whisper. “Not at all."
"I have done you no wrong, yet you make love to Blade in front of me and will not let me share in your bounty. This I do not understand.” She shrugged her slender shoulders, sending her breasts bobbling tautly.
The idea of being the subject of malicious gossip in the camp was appalling and appeared inevitable. “Will you tell anyone that you saw Blade and I make love?"
Moon went rigid for a moment, looking down at Samantha with a mixture of suspicion and hurt in her chocolaty eyes. “You do not know about our ways.” It was a simple statement, and one that made her smile a little to herself with understanding. “Yes, that is it. You do not know our ways, and that is why you would ask such a question."
"What ways are you talking about?"
> "Among the Northern Comanche, it is considered a blasphemy to speak to others what has been said or done in a tepee. It is a blasphemy to ask others what has been said in a tepee.” She pulled an unadorned buckskin dress over her head and shimmied it down over her trim hips. “That is why, whenever there are important things that must be discussed, the talk always happens outside. If they happened inside a tepee, we could not talk of them through the tribe.” Moon smiled. “Come now, I will take you to the stream, and we will have our morning wash."
* * * *
The posse had nine men in it. In the lead was a broad-shouldered, unsmiling man with an enormous moustache and a badge pinned to his vest. His name was Sheriff Burns, and he looked at Blade with the thinly veiled contempt of a man who sometimes must deal politely with Indians but despises it.
"I came upon their trail after they attacked the train,” Blade explained, standing at ease though he held his Henry repeating rifle cradled in his arms. “Blue Elk was responsible for the murder of one of our tribe. When I found his trail, I tracked it to where they were camped out. I slipped into camp, and that's when I killed Blue Elk."
"You killed Blue Elk, but you left the rest of the cutthroats alive.” There was censure in Sheriff Burns's tone. “They just let you waltz on in and kill their leader and didn't do a damned thing about it?"
"I killed the sentry on my approach and waited for Blue Elk in his tepee. That's where I found the white woman. When Blue Elk came for her, I killed him. Then the woman and I escaped into the night.” Blade looked straight into the sheriff's eyes, refusing to be intimidated by the badge on his chest. In the white man's town, that badge gave him authority. On this land, Broken Blade's word was the final judgment. “As for the rest of the men riding with Blue Elk, I do not seek revenge upon men who have done me no wrong."
"They may not have done you any wrong, but they sure as hell done wrong to all those folks on the train that they slaughtered,” the sheriff replied sharply, spittle flying from his lips in his vehemence. “Why didn't you think none about them?"
Blade's expression remained passive, despite the sheriff's escalating temper. It seemed fruitless to explain that the Northern Comanche didn't feel any responsibility toward the murdered white people because the murderers had been renegade Kiowa and Cheyenne Indians. The Northern Comanche were uninvolved. He had taken his revenge upon Blue Elk and only upon Blue Elk because he was solely responsible for the murder of one of Blade's tribe.
The sheriff took off his dusty, sweat-stained Stetson hat and wiped his perspiring forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. “This white woman—she can tell us for certain who the men are that attacked the train? She can identify them?"
Blade nodded, though he wasn't at all happy about getting Samantha involved, however tangentially. He looked at the sheriff, wondering what was going through the man's mind. It was Blade's experience that whites often grouped all Indians into a single entity. This meant that the murderous behavior of one tribe might well cause all tribes to get blamed. He had heard more than a few stories about Indians being attacked on the basis of a mistaken identity. That being the case, it might be safest for the Northern Comanche if he gave the posse some assistance.
"How good is your best tracker?” Blade asked.
Sheriff Burns's eyes narrowed angrily, but only for a moment. “Not too bad."
Blade lifted an eyebrow. “Not too bad, but not too good?"
Even the sheriff had to grin at that. “That's about the truth of it. He ain't too bad, but he sure as hell ain't too good, neither. Truth is, we lost their tracks miles ago."
Blade didn't bother asking the sheriff why he felt he had the right to ride through Northern Comanche territory on the foothills of the Rocky Mountains known to locals as the Blue Ice Mountains. When Indians trespassed in white territory, it resulted in spilled blood as often as not. But whenever the white man trespassed into Indian territory, it was expected to be tolerated—a fact which irked the war chief of the Northern Comanche enormously.
"I'll be your tracker,” Blade said after a moment. “Dog is no better than his brother. He just hadn't made himself my enemy, so I didn't kill him.” By helping this sheriff find the killers, he could at least ensure that innocent Indians wouldn't get blamed for Dog's murderous impulses. “We'll leave at dawn."
Sheriff Burns said, “That killer's been alive too long. You help us find him, and you'll be doing a good thing.” The sheriff's gaze flicked to the nearly new, well-oiled rifle in Blade's arms, and to the Colt Navy pistol in the holster on his left hip. “Got yourself some fine weapons."
Blade didn't bother giving an explanation for the quality of the weapons. His younger brother, whose complexion was more like Constance's than Parker's, had negotiated the deal for crates of new weapons directly with a gunsmith out of Santa Fe. He had donned a suit and necktie and used his “white” name to conveniently circumvent any laws preventing the sale of firearms to Indians. Besides, gold had a way of making most men see only what they wanted to see.
The sheriff looked over Blade's shoulder, and an expression of confusion spread across his face. Blade turned to look in the same direction and saw Samantha approaching, her hair a spray of gold over her shoulders, the simple doeskin dress she wore pleasing him in a myriad of ways too complicated to be easily understood.
"That the gal that got kidnapped from the train?” the sheriff asked.
Before Blade had a chance to stop Samantha, she approached the sheriff with a welcoming smile. It was obvious to Blade that she didn't share his suspicions of white men in general, and white lawmen in particular. His instinctual distrust was especially elevated when it came to posses who started out on a mission of justice with honorable intentions and regularly disintegrated into groups of men driven by revenge, blood-lust, and prejudice.
Samantha answered the sheriff's greeting. “Yes, I was kidnapped by Blue Elk's tribe.” She hesitated only a moment before adding, “Blade saved my life."
"That's not a tribe,” Blade corrected, ignoring the compliment. “That's a gang. An outlaw gang. Every man who rides with Dog has been banished from his tribe."
Sheriff Burns kept his attention focused on Samantha. “And you think you could identify them? You can look ‘em in the face and know if they was the ones that killed all those people from the train?"
Samantha took a moment before replying, and when she spoke, it was evident she was choosing her words carefully. “Sheriff, there are very few things in this world that I'm absolutely certain of ... but this is one of them. I'm absolutely certain that for the rest of my life I will remember the faces of the men who kidnapped me."
"Would you mind riding with us, ma'am? Once we find ‘em, if you tell us you're certain they are the Injins that kilt those people on the train, that'll make it a whole lot easier for us to do what it is we got to do."
Samantha's eyes hardened. “Ride with you? Oh, sheriff, you couldn't keep me away if you tried."
The sheriff's mouth pulled up on one side. “I suppose you'll be wanting us to take you back to town when we finish with this business.” It was a statement, not a question. “That's no problem for us, miss.” His eyes narrowed a bit as he looked at her. “You will be coming with us, won't you, miss?"
Samantha glanced at Blade. Her returning to the white man's world had been an unasked question that hovered around them for days now. Blade shocked himself when he discovered that he was holding his breath, waiting for Samantha's response.
"Yes,” she said at last. “I suppose I will."
Twenty minutes later, at the outskirts of camp though still within shouting distance, Blade clenched his teeth together so tightly his jaws ached.
"I'm going, and that's the end of the discussion.” Samantha folded her arms together beneath her breasts, a glint in her eyes suggesting she would get into a fistfight with Blade before she willingly backed down to his demands.
"It's too dangerous, so you're staying here in camp, where it's safe.�
� He took a half-step closer to her, his dark eyes darting toward the camp. If anyone saw her openly defying him, he would lose prestige among the warriors, and his leadership and manhood would be brought into question. “Now the discussion is over, so let's drop it."
"Fine. The discussion is over.” But as his face softened, she added, “I'm going with the posse. We don't need to discuss it any more."
"Goddamn it, Samantha,” Blade hissed under his breath, using the curse that the priests always took so much umbrage with. “Why won't you listen to reason?"
It was her apparent calmness that infuriated him the most. She was just standing there, quietly and consistently refusing to follow his orders. He was the son of a chief, and a chief in his own right, and women simply didn't disobey him. Didn't she realize that?
"Blade, I think you should calm down some,” Samantha said conversationally. “You really look agitated, and it's frankly undignified."
Closing his eyes, Blade inhaled deeply and then let his breath out slowly. “You are the most stubborn woman the world has ever known?"
"Perhaps I don't always do what you want,” Samantha replied sweetly. “But when it comes to making love, you've got to admit I do whatever you ask. Gladly, too."
Despite himself, Blade had to smile. “Promise me you won't tell anyone that I let you openly defy me and that you won an argument. My reputation would be in shambles."
* * * *
Blade saddled Tikki and rode out of camp, furious with the hot-blooded, passionate, mind-bendingly stubborn yellow eyes woman, who had entered his life without being invited and seemed determined to do whatever she wanted to, with or without Blade's approval. As a man long accustomed to having his instructions followed instantly, Samantha's stubborn determination to make her own choices was more than mildly vexing.
He rode alone, eastward toward the lush, verdant mountains, and when he was miles from camp, he dismounted and let Tikki drink from a cool stream and eat the rich grass. To the east were the Blue Ice Mountains, much of which his tribe—under his mother's maiden name—already owned. Eventually, from the gold that Blade and a select group of warriors were extracting from the mountain, he hoped to own enough land and have enough gold in the bank to ensure the security of the Northern Comanche for the turbulent coming years.