Savage Ecstasy

by Janelle Taylor

Gray Eagle glanced up and studied her as she worked. He was sitting on a buffalo skin near the opened flap to catch the breeze as he worked. He was using a flat, smooth rock as a tool to sharpen his knife and tomahawk. He was relaxed and content in the scene surrounding him. He, the warrior and man, was sitting in his teepee working on his weapons after a successful hunt, while she, the woman, prepared their evening meal. He glanced around at the evidence of completed. chores, the clean clothes, the ful mni skins, the ful sling, the nuts and berries, and his woman kneeling by the fireside cooking their wota. She was singing softly to herself as she fireside cooking their wota. She was singing softly to herself as she worked, unaware of his keen interest and observation. This is what has been missing in my life, he thought. This is how it should be between two people who … He laughed at such sily thoughts and feelings. He chided and warned himself, your vision grows old before your body, Wanmdi Hota, and your mind thinks thoughts of foolish old men. Do not see what is not here. The only two people here are the warrior and his kaskapi. She only does as she is commanded and has promised. Do not dream the dreams of fools.

  But he secretly wished it could be like this every day. He slipped back into his dream. Perhaps she is learning to accept me and her new life. Wil she alow the feelings she showed to me back at her fortress to grow? Perhaps I have alowed my harshness to flame like the fire and destroy them. She might have felt only pity for me as she now does for the Brown winyan. I could have been wrong in what I thought I saw in her eyes and face. This conclusion disturbed him. What if she realy did hate him and only obeyed out of fear? What if he had forced her to see him as a savage warrior instead of a man?

  When Alisha knew the meat and bread were done, she turned to him and spoke with difficulty and hesitation. “Ku-wa, Wanmdi Hota. Wota, aguyapi… yanka.”

  He looked over at her and surprised her with the expression on his face. There was actualy a pleasant look there with a slight half-smile playing across his lips and in his dark eyes. Was she only imagining it, or was it perhaps a smirk instead? It could be for the food, her use of his tongue or maybe just her docile, servile behavior. No matter, for it made him look more handsome and relaxed.

  relaxed.

  Rarely was there a look such as that upon his face and rarely was that cold glare missing in those obsidian eyes. She stared at him openly. She was very aware of his strength and virility. Recaling his fiery kisses and light caresses, she flushed and looked away. He came to sit beside her and be served. She was careful not to meet his gaze, nervous and alarmed by his effect on her. She didn’t understand why this cold, cruel man had any effect on her in any way other than fear, hate and disgust. When he had finished his meal, she ate in silence as was their custom. After she was finished, she cleared away the remains of the cooking and eating. She turned an embarrassed face with lowered eyes to him and said, “Won … ah … be …” She did not see his amused smile at her shyness.

  He stood up and stretched languidly, then caled for her to folow him. They walked along the forest path into the dense trees. He led her to a copse and left her alone. Later, he rejoined her to return to his teepee.

  Once back, she sat down on the mat to await his next order. He was moving about in the teepee, colecting some items from his personal belongings. He walked to the flap with long, easy strides. He halted for a moment and turned back to face her. He flatly stated, “Wanmdi Hota ya Oyate Omniciye. Lese hiya ya. Lese yanka.”

  She stared at him in bewilderment. He caled her to him and repeated his words as he made the signs for his intentions. He lifted the flap and pointed to the council lodge as he was speaking. She nodded that she understood his commands. She watched him cover the short distance between the two teepees and disappear inside. She wondered why he bothered to explain his disappear inside. She wondered why he bothered to explain his actions to her. He was such a confusing, unpredictable man! She would never understand him or his ways.

  She lowered the flap and returned to her place on the mat. After a long time, she lay down upon the mats, thinking about this turn of events and his new, relaxed behavior toward her. Her emotions and thoughts were in an upheaval, for none of this made sense.

  She could visualize his face in cold fury and contempt. She could melt that expression into one of relaxed acceptance or desire for her. She had never met or known anyone like him before. Her heart and brain were raging a heated battle between resistance and acceptance, love and hate, escaping and remaining. Gray Eagle was like a magnet, strong and forceful, puling her helplessly to him, making her unable to break or resist his hold. Instantly, he could reverse polarity and repel her in anger and coldness, shoving her away with those very same arms which had so recently held her in a tight, tender embrace. It was as if two men forever at war occupied the same body. He could be passionate and tender one minute; then cold and cruel the next. She never knew how he would behave or react to any given circumstance at any time. She could not comprehend two such strong, opposing emotions as hate and love in the same man at the same time. Then, again, she corrected herself, she should realy say hate and lust, not love. He could easily be a lover as wel as a warrior if he so desired, and this knowledge terrified her. Angrily, she thought, he is cruel and taunting one minute; then kind and thoughtful the next. He rejects me brutaly; then accepts me tenderly the next time. She unwilingly recaled his kiss and touch which brought fires to her body. But, the actual act of lovemaking which brought fires to her body. But, the actual act of lovemaking had been painfuly unbearable for her.

  Could it be his kindriess was only a taunt within itself? He withheld his wrath and punishment as long as she was subservient. She remembered how brutaly he had taken her after her open defiance of him at Ben’s death. She had never seen him so angry. She trembled just recaling it. She knew she had seen the look of death in his eyes that day. She knew he had forced himself to overcome his temptation to do so; but she did not know why. Poor Ben, what did you have to tel me that was so important it cost you your life? You said, “The brave can…” Can what? Can kil me? Can punish me or ravish me? I already know those things. What did you feel was so urgent I learn?

  Would it make any difference to him if I could learn to accept this life of thraldom? Would total submission to him change anything? Does he prefer for me to remain his enemy or accept him and his dominance? I think he loves to be a ruthless tyrant, making me cower before him in awe and fear, showing off his power and superiority over me and my people.

  If only I had the courage to remain aloof and resistant to him and his threats. But how long could I hold him at bay, mentaly or physicaly? I can’t go through with those tortures like the others did, or be sent to that teepee like Kathy…

  If I pushed him too far or too hard, he would surely do one or the other to me. Would he kil me if I blatantly refused to be his harlot and servant? I can’t risk testing him, even though I despise living like this at his beck and cal. I dare not defy him. And yet, I dare not leave my heart open to him. He would rip it from my soul and devour it like some demon.

  Don’t let a little kindness and a brief reprieve erase his deeds, Don’t let a little kindness and a brief reprieve erase his deeds, she warned herself. You must keep your guard up and never trust him or his motives. To trust or love a man like that would only bring anguish and then death. The only place he can have in my life is as my master and protector, for now. Later, none…

  In al her anxiety, she never thought to question why he chose that very moment to kil Ben; nor how he knew what Ben was saying to her. Had she thought more on the scene and words, she would have grasped the deadly truth—he heard and knew exactly what Ben was saying and wanted to silence him forever. Far worse, she would have realized the ful extent of her predicament—he knew and heard al her words to and about him. She pushed the painful scene far back into her mind and tried to forget it. She wondered, is Kathy the only other prisoner left? Were the other women dead or sold to other tribes? How could Kathy hate me so much? I
can’t bear to think of the terrible abuse and suffering they must have endured in that teepee. For her to see me clean and free with the very man responsible for it al must have angered her. Can I realy blame her for her feelings, no matter how wrong she is?

  If only she knew the truth! At least, she doesn’t have to live with the guilt that she might be responsible for al the deaths and sufferings. I guess I should be grateful to him for taking me and keeping me here with him. I couldn’t endure being a harlot for his tribe as she is. I’d die if he ever took me there. I’d just die…

  Tears filed her eyes and began to rol down her cheeks as she recaled the arduous trek to this land of death for men and their dreams. They had begun the trip with great anticipation and high spirits. They had moved slowly and seemingly endlessly at times. Living in a covered wagon for a year had proven to be a hardship for many. To others, it had been exciting, stimulating, educational for many. To others, it had been exciting, stimulating, educational and strengthening. She recaled al she had learned, seen and done. At times, the going had been hard, but there was always someone or something there to inspire them to press on. There had been many complaints, heartaches and problems along the way, but they had overcome them al. There had been good and happy times, too.

  She reflected on the ones who had given up along the way and returned to the colonies, or settled where they were at that time. Others remained at the nearest settlement to where they had lost the strength to go on. She remembered the many graves left along the trails from sickness, accidents or just loss of the wil to live and push on and on.

  She thought of al the things they had so carefuly carried for such a long way, now lying burned and ruined at the fortress. Al of their hard work had gone up in smoke and ashes. Al because of one man…

  The blurred details of their trip slowly returned to her. Most of their days had been spent traveling or doing chores, and their nights in exhausted slumber. There had been little time to socialize with the other settlers, for there had never seemed to be enough time to complete their chores.

  They would travel until the last streaks of light were gone and be up again at the first light of dawn to push on once more. Joe told them they were moving too slow and had to hurry to make more progress before winter halted them. Once it hit, they would have to stop where they were during the worst of it and wait it out. He hoped to make this stop near an established settlement or fort. To get her mind off her present problems and turmoil, she began to reminisce about the trip. She recaled the first stop they began to reminisce about the trip. She recaled the first stop they had made at a settlement built in 1758 and named Morgantown. They had lingered there only a short time for rest and supplies. They had planned to folow the Ohio River west in order to have their backs protected and to be near water. It was at Morgantown she had her nineteenth birthday. It came and went, unnoticed by al except her and Uncle Thad. Perhaps that was why she thought of Morgantown first.

  Later, they had passed the settlement of Clarkesvile in the Indiana territory. It was there she realized most of the exploration and settlements were French. Nearly al the forts, towns and trading posts they visited were run by and surrounded by the French. It was immediately made clear to everyone the French and Indians were friends and it behooved the settlers to be friendly to the French. That situation had proven very difficult for many of the men who had fought against the French many times before coming to the colonies. Bigotry and prejudice were slow to die in the hearts of many of the men.

  When their group made stops at these forts or posts, they would stock up on depleted supplies, rest, and talk with the trappers and traders about newer and better routes and newly settled places. Alisha thought, if we had al been French, everyone wo’ld probably stil be alive. But, of course, the brave would not have been our enemy or treated as he was.

  These Plains Indians were entirely different from those she had seen and met along the trail. The Miami and others had been pleasant or ignored their passing. There had never been any open hostility from any of the tribes or bands they had contact with. Alisha had not realized the tribes they met had been friendly with the white man for a long time. Other tribes had simply learned the futility white man for a long time. Other tribes had simply learned the futility of resisting the white man and his weapons. The Miami had thought it wiser not to attack a group of whites who had no intention of settling on their lands.

  It had been about that time the men had decided to abandon the river trail and head overland to the settlement of St. Louis. Some of the men had argued bitterly about this decision. Along that trail, they had passed a settlement named Vincennes and moved on to Cahokia in the Ilinois territory.

  Their longest stop had been where the Mississippi River, referred to as the “Big River,” joined with another river caled the

  “Big Muddy.” There they built rafts. It had been a slow and dangerous crossing on the light rafts. Some of the wagons and a few lives had been lost in the swift, swirling red waters. She recaled how awesome and terrifying it had been for her. How had she found the courage to keep from crying that day?

  Some of the others had been too frightened to cross after witnessing tragedy and failure by others. Those who refused to make the crossing headed for the settlements of Kaskaskia and Ste. Genevieve. The ones who were successful were jubilant and proud. She had found their stay at St. Louis enlightening. There was a very large trading post built in 1764 situated near the river and surrounded by numerous homesteads and smal settlements. She had learned the Spanish had controled this area at one time and had offered large land grants to anyone who would come and help settle it. Their ploy had been unsuccessful and they soon lost and sold their claims to the French.

  The owners and proprietors of the trading posts there were the ones who convinced them to head on for the Dakota Territory. They told many stories about the vast, open ranges for grazing and They told many stories about the vast, open ranges for grazing and farming; the forests filed with game for food and skins; the numerous streams and rivers for water supply; the serenity and safety because of the nearby military post, Fort Pierre; and of the gold brought back by some of the traders and trappers. Alisha asked herself, what good had that fort been to them?

  Had it helped or protected them in their greatest hour of need? It might have been on the other side of the world for al the difference it had made for her people.

  She reflected again on her journey. The traders and trappers in St. Louis did not, in their desire to see this area settled and more populated, tel the settlers of the dangerous living conditions and strife between the whites and Indians, especialy the Sioux. They had believed the increasing number of settlers and soldiers would help their businesses to grow. A greater number of whites would increase the chances of their pushing the Indians farther north or west, leaving the trapping grounds and gold-filed streams and hils open for the taking. Either way, they were sitting pretty at the crossroads between the East and West. It would be far safer for them to have whites at the back door than hostile Indians. Their journey had been much rougher after they left St. Louis. Winter had overtaken them sooner than expected. Joe Kenny, their scout, had told them they were lucky for that was one of the mildest winters he had seen in these parts. If that was what he caled a mild winter, Alisha joked to herself, I would hate to be caught in one he considered harsh.

  I can recolect days we didn’t make any progress and others, only a little. I remember those worst days when Joe would make us form a circle and wait out the storms and deep snows. Then, he would push us on and on as soon as the weather cleared and the would push us on and on as soon as the weather cleared and the trails were passable. Perhaps he was in a big hurry to be out of this area. No, if he had known what we realy faced, he would have told us. If he did, they didn’t listen or wouldn’t turn back. If our men were smart enough to bring two extra wagons of feed and hay for the animals when grass couldn’t be found in the snow, why couldn’t they be smart enough to
sense our danger or the signs of trouble brewing? We should have been wise enough to turn back on those days filed with overwhelming problems and bickering.

  Thank goodness for those books I brought along or I would have been as irritable and edgy as they were on those layovers. But there were good times, too. Alisha smiled as she recaled their Christmas on the trail. It had been wonderful and beautiful. For a change, nearly everyone had been helpful and friendly to each other. Thankfuly, that Christmas brought out the best in their group. Perhaps it had been because of the children. They inspired a happiness and gaiety al their own, and spread it to those around them.

  That was the time I gave Uncle Thad that funny little pipe Mr. Parsons carved for me, Alisha thought wistfuly. It had taken nearly al my smal savings, but it was wel worth it. Uncle Thad, I miss you so much. Why did they have to take you from me? Why did you force me into that trench? I would not be in this situation if I had refused.

  Oh, God, how I dread another winter here! Those high snowdrifts and ice; I’ve never been so cold in my life. I hated the way the wind made my nose and cheeks hurt and turn red. My feet and hands would get so numb they didn’t move. They felt like dead weights and ached with the cold. There were even times when it weights and ached with the cold. There were even times when it hurt to breathe and my teeth would chatter so loud I couldn’t sleep al night. I was never so happy as the day when winter was over and spring came.

  That Christmas day had not been cold or wet. Perhaps the good weather that day had been a gift to al of them. She suppressed laughter as she pictured the little tree the children had cut and fixed. They scampered around like chipmunks confiscating and colecting anything they could to decorate it with. Mrs. Dooley had conniptions over her missing red ribbons and Mrs. Blackstone over the cotton puffs from her husband’s medicine bag. But how lovely the tree had been when they finished! Everyone had been delighted and amazed by the children’s pooled efforts. I can stil hear the singing and laughter … Ben and his deep voice … I bet he had been nipping from that little jug he kept hidden away for “special occasions,” as he caled them. When he started to dance around the tree, I thought I would die laughing. Mrs. Frazer sure was angry with him for acting that way. You always were a show-off and clown, Ben. Sadness touched Alisha as she realized she would never hear his laughter or see his antics ever again.