Brazen Ecstasy

by Janelle Taylor

  “Who is Gray Eagle? You must have lost your senses, gurl! He’s a legend in these parts! They ain’t a white man or Indian around who don’t fear him. He’s the Devil himself, if you ask me! You was living in his camp!” he snarled scornfully.

  “I told you; I don’t remember anything before my wagon train was heading here. I don’t know how long I’ve been their prisoner. The last time I remember, it was the summer of ‘76,” she ventured persuasively, feeling she shouldn’t tell them more than that.

  That caught Starnes’ attention. “Where were your people heading?”

  “I think the scout called it Pierre,” she replied.

  “When?” he instantly asked another question, intrigued and enflamed.

  “June of ‘76,” she replied, as if that were yesterday.

  “You don’t recall nothing since then?” he demanded.

  “No. Why?” she asked, staring curiously at him.

  “This here’s April of ‘82, gurl,” he answered, smiling again.

  “Seventeen-eighty-two?” she repeated. “But that’s … six years! You’re saying I’ve forgotten six years!” she panted as if dismayed.

  “Don’t worry none, gurlie. We’ll take you to Fort Henry with us. If you was captured that long ago, your people’s all dead,” he casually stated, as if such news meant nothing to him.

  “Dead? All of them? My uncle and everyone?”

  “If Gray Eagle’s warriors attacked you, he don’t leave nobody alive. He hates us as much as we hate his guts! One day, he’ll get his due. He rides like he owns this entire area, like he’s some god. Trouble is, they all think he is! They won’t be so cocky and brave when we fill ‘em with lead!”

  “This Gray Eagle, he’s a powerful man?” she hinted inquisitively.

  “Powerful? There ain’t no word to describe him and his power. There ain’t a man alive who ain’t heard his name, who don’t shudder in they’s boots or moccasins when it’s spoken. You best be glad you don’t recall him and his coups! He hates whites; he kills everyone he sees.

  “Why didn’t he kill me? If what you said is true, I’ve lived in his camp for five years,” she debated softly.

  “You’s probably taken captive by one of his warriors. They like white women, if you know what I mean,” he suggested, a leer dancing in his features. “You been a white slave all these years. No wonder your mind don’t want to remember such things. You kin rest easy now; Charlie and me’ll take real good care of you,” he promised, his meaning all too clear.

  “Why do you fear and hate the Indians so much?” she unexpectedly asked, praying the fierce warrior would hurry back.

  “She’s surely touched in the head, Starnes! Injuns are red devils, gurl! They torture and massacre whites!” Charlie snapped irritably.

  “But you said you attacked me. We’re both white. Why?”

  “Like I told you, gurl, we wuz in a hurry. If we’d knowed you be this purrty, we’d found some way to take you along that day.”

  “If you say the Indians are cruel and savage, how do you explain kidnapping a child and injuring me?” she argued boldly.

  “We took him to trade for his father. We didn’t have time to fool with you that day,” Charlie snapped indifferently.

  “Rescuing me wasn’t important, but abducting this baby was?” she demanded for clarification. “Did you exchange him for his father? Did you execute this awesome warrior you described?”

  “Nope! I told you; he got away again,” he sneered, irate at that fact.

  When she asked him to tell her how Gray Eagle escaped from the fort, he snarled, “We ain’t got time to stand around jawing all day! But we shore got time to rescue you. Don’t matter you been living with them redskins all these years; you’re still a fine looker. ‘Course we’ll expect to be paid for our time and trouble,” he hinted, eyeing her from head to foot.

  “How can I pay you when I have no possessions?” she reasoned as if naive.

  He chuckled and stepped forward. “They’s other ways to pay us, gurlie,” he informed the panicky Shalee.

  She slapped away the dirty hand that stroked her cheek. “Take your filthy hands off of me!” she ordered.

  “Listen to ‘er, Charlie. She’s as brave as she is tough. A woman who could fight a raging river like that must have lots of energy. What’cha say we find out right now?” he threatened.

  “You wouldn’t dare touch me! You forget yourself, sir!” she shrieked, her breeding and temper showing.

  “I’m not the one forgetting nothing, gurlie; you are. You been a whore to them savages for years. Now it’s our turn to enjoy you. Let’s take ‘er, Charlie.”

  Drooling in anticipation, Charlie stepped forward and grabbed her arms and pinned them behind her back. Starnes seized both sides of her dress and ripped it open to the waist. “Look at that, Charlie, like two piles of white snow. Them Injuns shore had a fine time with you, gurlie,” he crudely stated, fastening his mouth to one breast.

  Shalee twisted and tried to pull free. Horrified, she watched him as he began to unfasten his belt. “You can’t do this!” she screamed at him.

  “First, me, then Charlie’s gonna enjoy you, my wild fluff. If you don’t wanna get hurt, you best relax and…”

  There was a singing whish and loud thud that silenced his threat and actions. His body lurched forward, knocking all three people to the ground. Shalee and Charlie scrambled from beneath Starnes, both seeing a yellow-tipped arrow imbedded between his shoulder blades. Upon her knees and clutching the torn sections of dress tightly together, Shalee stared at the ominous shaft. Charlie made a dash for the woods to the place where two restive horses pawed nervously at the dirt. A scream sent Shalee’s gaze in his direction, just in time to see him fall forward with a similar arrow in his back. A shadow to her right seized her attention. She whirled to confront her impending fate. Stunned, her gaze widened and she stared.

  Gray Eagle slung his bow over his shoulder and stepped from the trees as calmly as if taking an afternoon stroll! He went to Charlie to test for life. Finding none, he moved to Starnes’ body. Assured of his vengeful triumph, he came to her, dropping to one knee. He scanned her face with concerned eyes. “Did they harm you?” he asked quietly.

  Unable to pull her gaze from his, she did not reply. His eyes slipped to her torn dress and he frowned. “Did they harm you?” he asked again.

  Unable to speak, she shook her head. “They were the men who tried to slay you and kidnapped our son,” he unnecessarily informed her.

  “You killed them,” she murmured in a ragged whisper, still staring at him.

  “They would have raped you if I had not stopped them,” he declared, confused by her accusation and look of fear.

  “Why didn’t you frighten them away?” she asked incredulously.

  “If I had spoken a threat, his knife would have been at your throat before his eyes moved. They would not have run without a fight. I possessed the advantage of surprise. I used it. They were evil men, Shalee.”

  “They were terrified of you. If they had seen you, they would have run like cowards. You murdered them,” she charged irrationally, alarmed by this brutality.

  “I avenged the harm brought to you, to our son, and to me. If not for the Great Spirit protecting your life in the river, they would have slain you many moons past! If they had seen you with me today, they would know you are the woman of Gray Eagle. Another moon, your life would be in danger again. They seek to destroy Gray Eagle by slaying those he loves. You saw and felt their evil; why do you deny the cruelty of your kind?”

  That was exactly what she was doing! She couldn’t bring herself to accept the bleak reality that had threatened her—not from him, but from her own people! “I don’t understand, Gray Eagle. I’m white like them. Why would they do such things to me? Why do they fear and despise you so much?” she cried out in confusion and fear.

  “Such hatred from them and love from me was why you chose me over your own people, Shalee. I am
not your enemy; they are. They call us savages, but who was the savage here today? They say Gray Eagle is evil and cruel, but who has shown you real evil and cruelty? You are Indian now. You are my woman because you wished it so.”

  Her eyes darted about wildly as his words settled in. He was right. “I believe you, Gray Eagle. Can we leave this place?” she pleaded. “Can you help me remember?” she added. a tinge of desperation in her voice.

  “If I had the power, I would return your mind this very day. I cannot, Shalee, only the Great Spirit has such great power.”

  “But I want to remember. Why can’t I?” she wailed sorrowfully.

  “Perhaps there is some meaning to this problem. We must wait for the Great Spirit to end it. Do not fear, Little One, for I will protect you.”

  “You did. I was so afraid. They said such terrible things. It wasn’t true, was it?” she pleaded.

  “What truth do you speak of?” he asked in bewilderment.

  “He said I was… a whore to your people. What happened when you first captured me? You said we met as enemies.”

  He smiled and vowed, “Upon my life and honor, no man has touched you or taken you but Gray Eagle. I was the first, and no man has taken you since that moon. This I swear.”

  She flung herself into his arms. She wept as he covered her face with comforting kisses. She drew upon his strength and love for solace. There was so much she did not understand about this brutal war between the whites and the Indians. Even if she had lost her memory, she felt she could trust this man whose arms were around her and whose lips offered such tenderness and warmth.

  Pulling a length of rawhide from the band around his waist, he laced it through the holes upon her bodice and secured her dress once more. She watched him as he deftly performed this kindness. She returned his smile when he finished. “Let’s ride, Grass Eyes. We must camp in another place.”

  Without looking at either body, she allowed him to place her before him and ride away from the ghastly scene. They rode for two more hours before halting again. Weakened by her exertions and the weighty episode, she was carried to a grassy spot and sat down. He quickly fetched the buffalo mat and placed her upon it. She was fast asleep before he could build a warm fire or they could eat.

  Gray Eagle allowed Shalee to sleep until she awoke of her own volition the next morning. Unaccustomed to the reality of such intimacy between them, she returned from excusing herself with a pinkened face and averted eyes. She sat down near him and smiled timidly.

  His grin was mellow and warm as he apologized, “I have nothing hot to feed you, Shalee. We must return to our camp and make you well.” He handed her pones of what he called aguyapi and two small tightly pressed hunks of wasna, dried meat mixed with berries and some type of oil to hold it together. Although the bread pones and pemmican were cold, they tasted good and filled her rumbling stomach.

  When she questioned him about the foods she was consuming, he related how they were made, telling her she had done this task many times, promising her that she would learn the process once more. When he touched the buckskin shirt he was wearing and told her she had made it for him, she was amazed.

  She studied the leather garment with its fringed sleeves and tail, with its intricate beading across the upper portion. She reached out and fingered the design near his collarbone. “I did this?”

  He grinned and nodded, pride and affection shining in the depths of his jet eyes. “You have many skills you have forgotten. If you cannot recall them, you will learn them as easily a second time as you did the first. Your mind is keen and quick; your fingers are skilled and cunning. No warrior has such garments as Gray Eagle,” he complimented her.

  Worry lines creased her brow and squinted her eyes as she realized how much she had forgotten and how out of place she would be in his camp. How long would it take to relearn the skills and knowledge of five lost years? How would she fare in his camp without them? She shifted uneasily upon the mat. How would she be greeted upon her return from the dead, a startling return as a white woman? How would they feel when they learned of her predicament? She couldn’t speak their tongue or adhere to their ways and customs when she didn’t recall them. As a white woman, would she be resented and rejected? Anxiety gnawed upon her nerves.

  “What troubles you, Shalee?” he asked, observing the range of emotions that crossed her face during her deep reverie. When she revealed her thoughts and worries, he smiled and entreated, “You have earned their love and respect; they will not take them away. They will help you find yourself.”

  “How, when I can’t even communicate with them?” she sighed in despair at the awesome challenge she was accepting. What else could she do?

  “I will teach you my words. I will teach you all you have forgotten,” he vowed with self-assurance.

  “You are a very complex and puzzling man, Gray Eagle. I’m not certain I understand you. I’ve never met anyone like you before,” she stated, pulling an amused smile from his sensual lips.

  At the sight of his teasing grin, she laughed and remarked, “Under the circumstances, I suppose that isn’t true. Still, it is like meeting you for the first time,” she modestly confessed.

  “If such is true, Shalee, I pray your heart responds this moon as it did the first moon our eyes and life-circles touched. You spoke words to me long ago; you said you loved me even at that first look. You said I made strange and happy feelings in your heart and body. Before you knew the union of our hearts and bodies, you did not understand them; they confused and frightened you. Many moons later, you smiled and said they no longer confused or frightened you; you loved and desired me, only me.”

  Emotions that confused and alarmed her? She had found him irresisitible at their first meeting? Didn’t that explain the very way she was feeling right now? Was this how it all began so long ago? Did she dare to ask him about their private life together? No, not yet….

  She reached for a safer topic, “You said this was called a winter camp. What did you mean?”

  Guessing her motivation, he calmly explained the lifestyle she questioned. He told of their life upon the Great Plains near the original French settlement and fort of Pierre. He told of the mighty river that had no beginning or ending in his lands: the Missouri. He talked about their summer camp and the way of life there. He related how they camped at the base of the sacred Black Hills for protection from the harsh winters in this wilderness, for safety from winds and snows, and for lingering grasses to feed their animals. When the grasslands were reborn and the buffalo returned to them and the other game to the nearby forests, they returned to the place of their summer camp until the snows threatened to conceal the Eagle’s domain once more. He chuckled as he commented that that was how she had described his lands.

  “You live this way every year, moving between the two camps?”

  “Sha. It has always been that way. Before the white man and Bluecoats came, peace ruled our lands. We hunted and worshipped the Great Spirit. We were free and happy. Life was content with this pattern. But the whites came and destroyed this sacred circle of life. They kill and maim. They steal our lands and claim them as theirs. They burn our villages and murder our wives and children while we hunt or defend ourselves against other bands of hostile Bluecoats. They burn the face of Mother Earth and bare it to the sun and winds. They butcher many creatures of Wakantanka just for their skins, not for food or garments as He planned. They enter villages when the warriors are gone; they steal and rape. They have made themselves our enemies; they did not come in peace. They will not rest until they have driven us from these lands and have taken them. They have firesticks to send evil balls into the hearts of our best warriors, firesticks whose thunder frightens the buffalo and sends them charging far from our hunting grounds. Each summer we must pursue them further away from the danger of the white man’s long-rifles. Now, our lives are ruled by war and our minds by cunning and hatred. It should not be so.”

  She listened to the tortured words and f
ierce emotions coming from this man who claimed to be her love. She was touched by the logic and the troubles he presented to her. How could she deny that her people were pouring into lands the Indians had held for hundreds of years, destroying and taking them by force, denying any offers of peace or friendship? They were enemies at war, and she was caught in the middle of it. As before? What great love or ghastly horrors had caused her to side with him and his people over her own? She couldn’t bring herself to ask him to tell her.

  “My people hate and fear you most of all. Why, Gray Eagle?”

  “I am a proud and daring warrior, Shalee. I have many coups to declare my prowess and rank. The Great Spirit smiles upon me and shows me honor. He guides me and protects me. For this, my name and skills are known to both the Indian and the white man. They call me a legend, a Devil, a powerful evil to be conquered. They think if they destroy Wanmdi Hota, they will destroy the strength and unity of the Indian. They are wrong. If they send my feet to walk the Ghost Trail, another warrior will take my place. I hold no magic in my body to halt my death. Only my cunning and courage protect me, as Wakantanka desires. I lead the Indians because they trust me and favor me. But another great warrior could take my place,” he told her without false bravado or immense arrogance.

  Perhaps it was true that a great leader never viewed himself as a demigod or immortal, only as a vessel chosen to lead his people. Surely her husband was such a man. Her husband… pride and respect flowed within her at that thought. Recalling the envious and terrified tone and expressions of the two white men, she realized this man must possess immense courage, stamina, strength, and daring. It would require such qualities to earn that look of reluctant respect and intimidating awe she had witnessed. Alisha Williams had loved and conquered this intoxicating legend? Without a doubt, men feared him and women desired him. She suppressed a pleased gloat as she comprehended that she was surely a much envied woman. She was the woman who shared the life-circle of this vital and powerful man! How she wished she could recall their wondrous life together… how she wished she could remember what it was like to… she suddenly flushed at her wanton thoughts.