“I want to start every day for the rest of my life just like this,” Rose sighed. White Owl’s sigh echoed her own, but he did not speak. He pulled her as close as was humanly possible as they snuggled under the blanket and allowed their fevered bodies to calm from the impassioned lovemaking they had just engaged in. Rose closed her eyes and sighed again. There really were no words she could use to describe this feeling of overwhelming love that she felt for this man.
“We should go now, before the day grows hot.”
Rose sighed again, but with much less contentment. Although she cherished this time alone with her new husband, his quest to travel so far for their wedding trip seemed unnecessary. But she would gladly follow him to the ends of the earth, so she pushed her weary body up from the ground.
Their second full day of traveling was uneventful, but felt extremely long to Rose. Her butt hurt, and her back ached; in fact, all of her body hurt. Although they stopped frequently to water the horses, she began to worry about Molly, since the little mare was not accustomed to being ridden this long. When she mentioned this to White Owl, he brushed off her worries.
“Ponies are meant to be ridden, Wild Rose. That is why the Great Spirit created magic dogs.”
“Great Spirit?”
“The Ute god,” White Owl answered. “I noticed right away how good you were to your pony. That was one of the first things I loved about you.”
Rose smiled. “Utes call their horses magic dogs?”
“Sometimes. It’s just an old expression.” He motioned for her to mount again. “We’re never going to get there if we keep talking.” One dark brow arched suggestively.
Rose wasted no time in pulling herself onto Molly’s back. Any amount of discomfort was worth the end result, which she was looking forward to with more than a little enthusiasm.
They stopped again during the heat of the day, but neither Rose nor White Owl was able to fall asleep, and once they started riding again, Rose felt so weary she was afraid she would fall off Molly’s back.
They made camp before dark beside a little stream that ran along the base of a cedar-covered hill. The setting sun bathed the entire area in a golden glow. They washed in the brook, and Rose felt much more refreshed. Once they had eaten a quick meal of corn cakes and coffee, then spread out the furs and blankets, it was only a matter of minutes before they were wrapped in each other’s arms. Exhausted from riding and from the heat of the day, they were both asleep just minutes after lying down.
“We will reach Vermillion Basin today,” White Owl said as the sun rose the next morning.
Rose’s attention was riveted by the contrast between the hues of their skin, with the rising sun spotlighting his pale brown skin against her nearly alabaster skin tone. She wondered how hard it would always be for them in this world that was so filled with prejudice and hate.
“What’s wrong?” White Owl asked.
“Nothing,” Rose lied. “Why?”
“You grew so tense and you shook. Are you cold?”
Rose swallowed hard. She told herself her love for White Owl would see them through the hardships they would undoubtedly face because of their differences. “Maybe a little cold, and really dreading riding again today. I wish we didn’t have to move.” She snuggled as close as possible to the muscled body of her husband. His arms immediately tightened around her. She definitely had not been lying about dreading the ride again today.
“How will you survive the winter if you think it is cold now?” White Owl asked with a chuckle.
“You will keep me warm,” Rose replied. She pushed away the worries she had been dwelling on regarding their future and concentrated on their beautiful surroundings. They had woken in a valley of cedars, and the heady pine scent emitting from their branches was intoxicating.
“Tell me more about this special place we are going,” she asked in an effort to divert her thoughts to the present.
“You will see it soon.”
Rose gave up asking questions, since it was obvious she wasn’t going to get any answers. Luckily, she did not have long to wait until they reached their destination.
As they rode into a tall narrow canyon that couldn’t have been more than thirty feet wide, Rose was in awe of the towering rock walls in various shades of brown, rust and tan-colored sandstone. She gasped when she saw pictures of people and animals etched into some of the rugged rocks overhead. White Owl heard her and chuckled as he pointed to the scattering of detailed pictures.
“My ancestors came here many, many moons ago and drew pictures on the rocks so that we could be reminded of our great beginnings.” He halted his horse and gestured toward a large picture of an Indian wearing an elaborate headdress and holding a bow in his hand. The rock that the picture was carved into was at least fifty feet high, yet the details were intricate.
“They are so beautiful,” Rose said in amazement. “How did they ever get up there to do that?”
White Owl shrugged. “I told you this place is special.” At a later time, he would show her the remnants of a tattered bark and vine ladder that those first people who lived here had used to scale the cliff walls. Even with the primitive ladder, etching the pictures in the stone had been a remarkable task. He nudged his horse forward, but kept the pace slow so that they could observe more of the numerous pictures of animals, people and assorted weapons that covered the cliffs and high rocks.
Rose followed him on her horse, her gaze flitting from one side to the other of the towering canyon walls. She could not even begin to imagine how the Indians had scaled those steep rocks, let alone dangled out there in front of them long enough to etch those massive pictures in the hard stone. White Owl had been right . . . it was worth traveling this far to see this mystical place, and she sensed that this was only the beginning of the surprises her handsome husband had in store for her.
As they rode out of the breathtaking canyon, the area opened up to expose a secluded meadow surrounded by pinyons, cedars, and sagebrush. To Rose, it looked like they had entered their own private world, but a huge round rock fire pit was built smack in the center, reminding her that other people had been here before them. A sense of admiration overtook her as she stopped her horse beside White Owl’s. “It’s truly magical,” Rose said quietly.
“My grandfather brought me here several times when I was small. It was like a magic place to me, too. After he died, I came here once on my own, but it was not the same. When I first met you, I knew that I would bring you here someday.” He turned to look at her, adding, “And now, the magic has returned.”
Rose swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat as she met her husband’s loving gaze. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
White Owl drew a deep breath but did not reply immediately. His tender expression exposed his thoughts. After a moment of silence, he finally asked, “Would you like to see your new home?”
Rose nodded with enthusiasm as he dismounted, and then he helped her down from her horse. He took her hand and began to lead her back toward the canyon, but before they entered the narrow opening, they turned and began to hike up a rocky slope that led to a ledge several hundred feet above. The rocks almost seemed to create a natural stairway and the climb was easy. Within minutes they were standing on the ledge.
“Oh,” Rose gasped as she looked at the cave that had been completely hidden from the valley below.
The ledge cut into the rock and was approximately thirty feet long. An overhanging rock created a roof over almost the entire area. Cut deep into the back of the ledge was a huge cave with a rock fire pit in the center. Rose pulled White Owl with her as she stepped into the cave. Although they had to duck slightly to enter under the overhanging rock ceiling, once they were inside, even White Owl could stand upright with several inches to spare overhead.
“It’s perfect,” she whispered. “Can we stay here forever?”
White Owl chuckled. “Would you not get lonely?”
Rose turned to him. “I
will never be lonely as long as I am with you.” She glanced around the cave, wondering where they would put their bed.
As if White Owl was reading her mind, he cleared his throat loudly and turned back toward the opening. “Let’s get the supplies.”
With an eager nod, Rose followed him back out of the cave. She stopped at the edge of the rock ledge and looked around. Below her was the hidden meadow and to her right was the entrance into the deep rugged canyon with the ancient carvings. In the distance, she could see the tops of towering mountains that had seemed so far away just a couple of days ago. Rose felt her breath catch in her throat. It was awe inspiring, and she felt blessed just to be standing here.
“Come,” White Owl called out. “We will explore later.”
Rose snapped out of her trance and hurried down the slope to help her husband with their gear. She was eager to explore, but even more eager to get their soft furs spread out in the cave.
With her arms loaded, she carefully made her way back up the slope and deposited the furs and blankets inside the cave, while White Owl concentrated on setting up camp around the big fire pit in the meadow. She studied the inside of the cave carefully and finally determined that she would make the bed in the narrowest corner of the cave. She had to bend down slightly as she spread the thick furs out, because this corner sloped and was a little lower in height than the rest of the cave. But when she finished smoothing out the last of the blankets over the furs and stood back to admire her work, she felt that it was the perfect place for their bed. A chuckle distracted her as White Owl entered the cave.
“That is where I used to put my bed when I came here with my grandfather. I was shorter then and didn’t even have to bend over to smooth the furs.”
“Oh, do you mind that you will have to bend down now to—” Her words were cut off when her husband grabbed her arm and twirled her around. His mouth descended on hers with a demanding kiss. Rose decided he didn’t mind as she returned his kiss with her own demands. She reached up and encircled his neck with her arms, drawing herself up against him as close as possible. His engorged manhood pressed into her abdomen and her knees went weak.
White Owl swept her into his arms and walked the several steps to the newly made bed. He bent down easily with her and placed her on top of the soft bed. As he lowered himself on her, Rose immersed her fingers in his long hair. The feel of his thick, heavy hair in between her fingers was always like an aphrodisiac to her, and she arched up against him, insatiable for all of him. Her greediness was appeased.
They pulled apart only long enough to disrobe, and when their bodies came together again, there was nothing but heated flesh and building desire between them. White Owl wasted no time in entering her with an urgency that seemed almost out of control. Their bodies moved as one, and each demanding plunge caused Rose’s passion to increase until she felt as if she was going to implode from within. His wet kisses claimed her labored breaths as this impassioned ritual reached a climax.
White Owl shuddered as his zealous movements came to a halt, and his mouth kissed Rose’s swollen lips one more time before he rolled to her side. He hugged her tightly against his sweating body as they both allowed themselves to ease back down from this lofty summit.
Rose ran her fingertips down the muscled, sweaty expanse of White Owl’s hard stomach and gently encircled his belly button as she let her fingers travel lower. White Owl moaned. His response was immediate as he pulled her up on top of him and placed her precisely on his swollen member. His large hands held her buttocks firmly as he began to move within her again. A weak cry escaped from Rose as she splayed her hands across the sinewy muscles of his smooth chest and began to move her hips with his, meeting each one of his urgent thrusts with her own demands.
She arched back when his hands grasped ahold of her breasts and his fingers began to fondle the protruding nipples. A guttural cry escaped her. She had known ecstasy with him each time they had made love, but none of those other times could even begin to compare to the times they made love in this position. His deep penetration created a delicious pain that flooded through her, and the way his fingers always tantalized her breasts at the same time drove every inch of her—inside and out—crazy with brazen desires. She wondered how many other positions they had not explored yet.
The hidden cave on the craggy sandstone bluff was filled with their love; their first home as man and wife had been initiated, and their wedding trip was finally beginning.
Chapter Seventeen
Vermillion Creek was no more than a trickle of water struggling to cut a tiny path through the hard ground because of the long months of drought. There was a small pond where they could get some water for cooking and washing, but Rose and White Owl had to make a trip farther west to the Green River to get fresh drinking water. It was an easy trip since there was not anything other than sagebrush and a cluster of pinyon or scraggly cedars here and there between Vermillion Basin and the river.
They followed a wide valley most of the way and by the time they had reached the river, it was late afternoon. The setting sun cast purple and blue shadows on the smooth rocks along the river’s edge. It was barely the beginning of September, but already the leaves on the scrub oaks were starting to turn into an array of orange and gold. The afternoon heat, however, felt more like mid-July.
“Here is a good spot,” White Owl said as he halted Niwaa beside the river.
It had been a long, hot ride, and the smooth cool waters of the river were mighty inviting. Almost instantaneously they both jumped down from their horses and ran, laughing, toward the river. Rose began undoing the little cloth-covered buttons that ran down the front of her white blouse the second she noticed that White Owl was kicking off his moccasins and rolling his leggings down. Since she had on considerably more clothes than he did, Rose was forced to stop at the edge of the river to finish removing her long flowered skirt.
White Owl had not stopped and plunged into the deep green water. His body made a loud splash, and when he resurfaced he let out a war whoop.
Rose laughed as she was sprayed with water from his jump. She threw off her tan hat and kicked off her tall riding boots and stepped forward to jump in with him.
“All of it,” White Owl demanded.
“What?” Rose asked as she teetered on the edge of the riverbank. She realized White Owl was pointing at the undergarments she’d left on.
She clutched the front of her cotton camisole tightly. “But someone could ride up,” she protested.
“I will come up there and take them off for you,” White Owl replied with a sly grin.
Rose closed her eyes for an instant and shook her head in defeat. She opened her eyes again, half expecting to see White Owl climbing out of the water to make good on his threat. But he had not moved and was watching her with a look that did nothing to hide his sensuous thoughts. Rose’s breath stopped short as she met his intense gaze. With his raven hair floating around him in the dark green water and his wet skin glistening over his broad, muscled shoulders and chest, he appeared almost spiritual. He was constantly telling her that he could not deny her anything, but now she realized it went both ways. There was nothing she could deny him either.
Slowly Rose reached behind her head and pulled the ribbon from her hair, releasing the ponytail and sending her long hair spilling down her back. Next she began to untie the little satin bow at the top of her camisole and undo the tiny buttons that ran down the front. She pushed one side of the garment off from one shoulder—and then the other side—and let it fall from her back.
White Owl did not move, his eyes burning into her hot flesh. She pushed the pantaloons down over her flat stomach and the curve of her hips. As they slid down her thighs and past her knees, she stepped out of them. She was certain she heard him gasp, but she kept her eyes locked with his, because she knew if she looked anywhere else, she would die of embarrassment.
White Owl held his breath as he watched his beautiful young wife strip
her clothes away. Her hair shimmered around her bare skin like a profusion of deep red flames. He let his gaze travel leisurely over her body. Her long legs were slender and perfectly shaped. The sight of her standing on the riverbank made his manhood rise up in the water and ache without mercy.
He was transfixed as she shook her wavy hair out around her shoulders and started to step to the edge of the riverbank. She bent forward and dove into the water, landing just a few feet in front of him. White Owl blinked to clear the water from his eyes. His blurry vision cleared just in time to see her emerge from under the water. Her eyes were closed, and the tips of her long lashes had tiny droplets of water teetering on the edges. She reached up and brushed the water away from her eyes and then smoothed the hair back away from her face. Her eyes opened, and their blue gaze immediately settled on him. White Owl exhaled the breath he had been holding in one huge gush.
Within a second she was in his arms and their slick wet skin was melded together. White Owl claimed her lips with a kiss that was hard and filled with urgency. Their tongues entwined, and he could taste her natural sweetness mixed with the unique taste of the river water. He picked her up around the waist and felt those shapely, long legs wrap around his hips as he entered her with an excitement that he couldn’t contain any longer.
Being in the water was a whole new sensation, and it wasn’t long before they both reached their climax. With her legs still around his hips, he waded toward the edge of the river, then gently, reverently washed her body as they reclined in a shallow pool along the riverbed.
Hunger eventually drew them from the water. Rose started a campfire, while White Owl went back to the water to catch a fish for dinner.
Under the star-studded Colorado sky, they bedded down for the night. White Owl held his wife tightly in his embrace while he listened to her soft breaths as she slept. He could not get the images out of his mind of her standing nude and glorious on the riverbank or the way she had looked when she had emerged from the water. He was certain there had never been a goddess in all of history—Ute or white—who could compare with her.
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