Agony seared through her. This was the dark secret he had feared. She had married the man who had massacred her people? How? Why? She sat up, fighting to breathe and to think clearly.
“We were enemies at war, Shalee,” he offered to no avail.
“How could I marry the man who killed my people?” she reasoned.
“You have forgotten the cruelties of your people. You do not recall our fight to love and live in peace,” he quickly explained, then went on to relate many terrible events.
“No more!” she screamed, covering her ears to such wicked news.
“For five winters we have been happy. Does one year weigh more than five?” he demanded, after pulling her hands away.
“Please, no more,” she pleaded sadly, tears of anguish flowing from her pain-filled eyes.
“You must know of the good moons that covered the bad ones,” he insisted. He hurriedly spoke of many such times, but she resisted his words. When he came to the birth of their son, she halted her weeping. Their son? She forced herself to hear him out.
He continued until breathless to the day of her disappearance. “Five winters of love and peace, Shalee. Do not close your heart to them.”
“You should not have told me such terrible things. They were best forgotten. Perhaps I could understand and forgive them over a span of time, but to hear them all at one time… that one year far outweighs the other five,” she vowed in anguish and disbelief.
“You asked. I could not lie to you. If I had, your keen mind would never trust me again. With all I feel and know, you loved me,” he stressed.
She stared at him, seeing him in a much different light. “Did I?”
Her words and look became lances hurled into his heart, wounding him deeply and painfully. “If I say yes, you would not believe me. You are right; I should have spoken falsely.” At that conclusion, he arose and left her side. It was a long time before he returned from the forest.
He sat down at the fire he had made. His broad back was to her as he stated, “The Oglala raided your fortress, Shalee. I killed no one there; I came back for you.”
She stared at his powerful shoulders and midnight mane. The problem was that she had recalled many things her people had said and done along the trail. Blending them with his words of justice, she didn’t know what to think or to feel. Revenge? Justice? Self-defense? Survival? There were so many warring factors involved. Had she forgotten white atrocities that made his dim in significance and brutality? Had there been so much love between them that nothing else mattered? More love than hate? More happiness than tragedy? Pains ripped through her head. Her senses reeled beneath them. She rested her forehead upon her knees and moaned.
“Are you in pain, Shalee?” the rich voice inquired.
“Yes. My head is aching. It’s like someone is beating it with a rock.”
“I have medicine. Do you want it?”
“Please. I can’t stand this throbbing,” she faintly admitted.
He placed yellow powder in a cup made from a buffalo horn and mixed water from a leather skin with it. He offered it to her. She took it with trembling hands, sloshing some of its contents upon her borrowed dress. She swallowed it rapidly, then handed the cup back to him.
“You must rest, love. The wound is fresh and still painful.”
She stretched out upon the furry skin and was soon asleep. Watching the tears roll into her hair, he knew he was facing his first defeat in this new battle to regain her love. His keen mind had made a terrible error in judgment. How could a gentle heart understand such black words, which carried no evil to prove them?
“Great Spirit, help me or I will lose her again,” he fervently prayed.
When Shalee’s dreamy mind began to feel sweet and inviting sensations, she unknowingly responded to the lips that tingled against hers and pressed closer to the compelling body that drew her forward as an insect to a succulent flower. Her arms eased around the narrow waist above her prone body as her hands explored the rippled surface there. Warm air whispered past her ear and something moist and soul-trembling played there. Whatever touched her lips and burned them was incredibly pleasing and stirring. Soon, her breasts throbbed as some unknown spirit blissfully drank from them. What magical torch was enflaming her womanhood? What madness seized her hazy mind and inspired both pleasure and sweet torment?
She struggled to find the clear surface to this enslaving black ocean that carried her body upon its turbulent waves and tranquil dips. Why did her mind resist the halting of this wanton dream? Why did it fight to savor it a while longer? It was wrong to dream of such unbridled passions, wrong to desire them in reality. Why was she thinking such thoughts about the savage warrior who claimed to be her husband? How colorful and daring her imagination had become since meeting him! She must awaken and stop this wanton fantasy. First, she would steal one last kiss before vanquishing her intoxicating and tempting illusion.
When the pervasive kiss ended and she slowly opened her eyes with a contented smile upon her lips, Gray Eagle’s face was within inches of hers. She froze as he continued to kiss her ears and lips. It wasn’t a dream? She had actually felt and enjoyed a reality? This Indian had truly enticed her body to feel such things and her mind to think such wanton thoughts? What great prowess and magic did he possess? When his lips brushed over her breasts before taking one into his fiery mouth, she gaped at his audacity. The dress Chela had loaned to her was one used after bearing a child, for it laced from neck to waist to permit the feeding of a baby, allowing his hands and lips easy entrance to her quivering body.
She didn’t know which emotion was stronger: fear, anger, distress, or wanton pleasure! She shoved his head away as she screamed, “Stop it! How dare you do such a wicked thing! Let go of me!”
His eyes were glazed with some heated emotion, his body was taut and excessively warm, his respiration was heavy and erratic. What fever was upon this robust man? She feared to comprehend it and to witness it. A plea clouded his ebony eyes as he raggedly entreated, “Do not deny us what we want and need, Shalee. It has been many painful moons without you. My body burns to love you. Do not reject me. Do you not feel how it was between us? Can you not feel what we shared? Do not be afraid. I will not hurt you. We have shared many such moons upon my mat. Let me prove the love was greater than the hate, the pleasures more than the pains.”
What was he saying? What were these intense feelings that raced through her body and mind? She did not understand, for she did not remember. Returned to a day long before meeting him and discovering such wild and wonderful sensations and such powerful love, she was confused and alarmed by this moment. Yet her instincts and burning body understood and pleaded for what her mind denied.
Terrified, she used the only argument she could think of, “Would you rape your own wife?”
“Rape!” he echoed in disbelief. “I desire to make love to my wife, to bring forth the memories of how it was between us. Love does not hurt the other, only denying such love. My heart and body ache for yours. Do yours feel nothing for mine?” His challenging gaze captured hers.
How could she honestly say no? She couldn’t. Yet she instinctively knew the peril of saying yes. “I am confused and frightened, Gray Eagle. I do not understand you or this situation. I cannot yield my body to you simply because you claim I’m your wife. To me, you are a stranger! Husband or not, I do not know you! Please do not force yourself upon me. If you do, I shall hate you and fear you forever!” she warned ominously.
He stared at her, his heart stormed with doubts, his body flaming with great need. He desperately wanted and needed her, yet he dared not seduce or force her. “It does not matter what I feel or need? You think and feel only for Alisha. Where is my Shalee and the great love we knew and shared? Would that I could slay the Bluecoat who drove her from my life!” he vengefully thundered in anguish. The throbbing need in his manhood was so fierce that he disappeared into the forest to spill his torment upon the ground there.
When he finally returned, there was something different in his aura. He was moody and sullen. He neither spoke nor glanced her way for what seemed eons. His pride was immense, but suffering. Just as his tortured mind had reached the agonizing point of accepting Shalee’s death and loss, Alisha was returned to him. But Shalee was missing. In her place was a resentful and unfeeling white girl! Would his precious Shalee ever climb from the black hole that imprisoned her within this white girl? How long could he endure Alisha’s mind and soul within the body of his Shalee?
Yet Shalee had once been Alisha. Would this new Alisha finally become his old Shalee? How long and painful would such a struggle take? Would they be called upon to relive the same evils and torments they had once endured along their first journey to love and acceptance? After this torturous separation, how could he be patient and loving toward Alisha when his heart and body demanded Shalee? Why was Alisha fighting him and the return to life of Shalee? He was her husband, a husband who needed her desperately. Why was she hurting and punishing him? How could he prove their love and passion when she refused his words and touch?
The two emotional upheavals that Gray Eagle had so recently and closely endured sapped his understanding and denied his keen wits. First, his heart had been ripped from his body with her death. The salt of loneliness and grief was applied to the open wound. Another dash had been added by the unforgivable fear over Bright Arrow’s life. When the wound had festered and pained him day and night, it had suddenly been teased with a healing balm: Shalee was alive. Before the injury could begin to heal, it had become infected: Shalee was not alive; Alisha was, and she did not know or love him! A perilous fever was gradually building around the injury that she would not tend.
He turned and looked at her. She was like a frightened and timid fawn sitting upon the buffalo mat. His heart lurched in tenderness and sadness as tears slipped down her pale cheeks and she whispered almost inaudibly, “I’m sorry, Gray Eagle. I honestly do not mean to hurt you so deeply. But I cannot help how I feel. Please be patient with me. I’m trying to understand what has happened to me. I’m trying to deal with it, but it takes time. Is that so hard to comprehend and accept?” she implored dejectedly.
In his absence, many troubling thoughts had plagued her warring mind. He remembered her and their love; she was his wife. It was only natural he desired her, that he needed reassurance from this woman who had unexpectedly returned from the grave. If matters were to be resolved between them, it would require effort and understanding from both sides. When she told him her thoughts, he nodded in resignation, then smiled. But the smile was tempered with a sadness that tugged unmercifully at her.
She arose and went to stand before him, the top of her auburn head halting near his heart. She smiled and remarked absently, “Now I know why you call me Little One. I’ll try very hard to remember, Wanmdi Hota,” she promised, her alluring eyes coaxing the same compromise from him.
He caressed her cheek; this time she did not withdraw from his touch. He smiled and said, “This time is hard for each of us, Shalee. If only I did not so clearly recall what has passed between us. If only such love was not lost to your mind. It will be as you say. It will be hard not to touch you, for I yearn to do so. I do not wish to frighten you. But my heart cries out to remove the coldness in your eyes and heart.”
Her arms went around his waist and she rested her cheek near his drumming heart. “Perhaps it will not take me long to love you again, Wanmdi Hota. Even now when you seem a stranger to me, I feel safe and warm in your arms. Your touch and kiss cause me to feel such strange emotions. But they’re confusing and frightening. Love must come before passion. Do you understand this?”
He inhaled with difficulty as his arms encircled her and held her possessively. “Sha, Little One; I see and hear your words and fears.” He leaned back and captured her face between his hands and lifted it to fuse their gazes. “If the love we shared is gone forever, we must seek a new love. For now, it is enough you are alive and here with me.”
When she smiled through misty eyes, he kissed her lightly. Before he could release her, she hugged him fiercely and thanked him. He smiled, tugging playfully upon her braid. For now, truce was more important than his torment and disappointments. “Are you strong enough to ride?” he asked.
“Yes. Sha, Wanmdi Hota,” she corrected herself.
He laughed in rising spirits, for it was ecstatically clear she was trying. After a quick meal, they mounted up to ride as far as her strength and injury would permit. For a time, serenity rode with them….
Chapter Eight
It was late afternoon when he reined in his horse near a wide stream. He slipped nimbly to the damp earth, then grasped her slim waist to help her down. Well-trained and loyal, the huge animal began to nibble leisurely at the new shoots of green beneath his unshod hooves. The small hands of the white girl upon the broad shoulders of the Sioux warrior slid down the well-muscled chest as her feet touched the surface of the ground.
He smiled as he instructed, “Drink and rest, Shalee. If you are too weary to ride further, we will camp here for the night.” The tremors of fatigue within her as she held tightly to his forearms told him of her need to rest the night here. Still, it would be best to allow her this choice.
“I’m sorry to be such a bother, Gray Eagle, but I am exhausted. This is the most exercise I’ve had in days. I know you must be eager to get home; perhaps I will be better after a short rest.”
“Both your mind and your body must be prepared to face the unknown when we reach our camp. A long rest will be best for you,” he hinted.
The unknown? What better way to name what she would soon face? “You’re right. Shall I help you gather some firewood?” she offered.
“No, you sit and rest. I will return soon. Chula will guard you,” he stated cheerfully, rubbing the nose of his beloved animal. He spoke softly to the Appaloosa, as if the splotched creature could actually understand his commands.
He spread the buffalo skin upon the ground and left her alone. She knelt to drink water from her cupped hands, then moistened her face hopefully to refresh her lagging energy. Admiring the mottled beast, she rubbed his neck and “talked” to him. Surprisingly, he permitted this stranger’s touch and neighed as if responding to her words. She laughed as he nuzzled his mouth into her opened hand.
“I’m sorry, Chula, but I have no treats for you tonight.” She pulled a handful of newborn grass and held it out to him in genial invitation.
He pulled it from her light grasp and chewed upon it, careful not to bite her hand. “You and your master are well matched, Chula,” she absently remarked, noting their similarities in uniqueness and magnificence. Both were strong and proud; both were well-trained and alert. A noble air emanated from each, as did tenderness and great strength. They were like color to a flower, a perfect blending of unity and beauty.
“Well, well…what do we have here, Charlie?” a raspy voice came from behind her.
Shalee whirled, her shock matched only by theirs. As two pairs of eyes walked over her lovely face and shapely body, she gaped at the two men dressed in deep blue uniforms edged in bright yellow. “Who are you?” she asked, alarmed at the way the two soldiers were leering at her.
“I’ll be damned, Starnes! It’s her! That gal we knocked in the river!” the other man exploded in astonishment. “You must be a mighty good swimmer, gurl,” he complimented her incredulous survival.
Starnes was too busy gaping at the beautiful girl to hear Charlie’s remarks. Eyes as green as priceless emeralds upon a face of flawless white satin were focused upon him, fear and confusion written in them. “She’s white all right,” the man called Starnes finally spoke. “How’d you get here? What’s your name?” he demanded angrily, sounding as if she shouldn’t be alive!
Both men glanced around. “You here alone?” Charlie asked.
Shalee didn’t reply. “You speak English, gurl! I asked you a question!”
The tone of his voice crush
ed the barrier upon her speech. “Of course I speak English,” she replied without even realizing she had spoken.
“How’d you get outta that river? I didn’t know anyone could swim that good. You’re a long way from the Sioux camp. What’cha doing out here alone?”
“What river?” she echoed, stealing time to reason upon their words and intent. Were these the men who had attacked her?
“Come off it, gurl! You know I smashed your skull and tossed you into the river! I ain’t no fool!” he snapped in annoyance.
“I don’t remember you or the accident. The blow must have caused me to forget. Some Indians found me in the river and cared for me. They’re sending me back to the Oglala camp. Is that the same as the Sioux?” she inquired, her words convincing and her look innocent.
Both men glanced around again. “What Indians? We didn’t see nobody.”
“They went hunting. They left me here. I’m still weak,” she demurely explained, for some inexplicable reason feeling that she should behave in this dumbwitted way. Why would soldiers attempt to kill a white woman? Where was Gray Eagle? Would they try to kill her again? Why?
“Why did you say you injured me and threw me into the river? I’m white like you. I don’t understand. Why didn’t you rescue me?” she probed.
Starnes laughed! Charlie gaped lecherously! “From what I see now, we musta been in too much of a hurry that day,” Starnes commented, his eyes glowing with an emotion Shalee resented and feared.
“They said you stole a small boy. Why?” she asked, wondering why she needed to hear such facts from these two evil men.
Starnes’ chest rumbled with laughter, a soul-chilling kind that taunted her ignorance. “We captured the son of Gray Eagle himself. But that fool Hodges let him escape right under his stupid, fat nose! We’ll get him again; this time, the Eagle won’t get away. We’ll slit his miserable throat first!” he boasted, his eyes cold and scornful.
“Who is this Gray Eagle? Why would you kidnap his son?” she pressed.
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