Savage Ecstasy

by Janelle Taylor

  It would be dangerous to remain so close, and yet so far away from Wanmdi Hota. I could not chance our meeting again under any circumstances. God help me and let it be over. I must forget him and al he did and was to me. It would be far easier if I did not have his scars on my heart and body to remind me of him. Mrs. Philsey came in with the two dresses. One was a chambray of green and white. It was trimmed with a white colar and cuffs. The other dress was a beautiful paisley in blue, red, green and white designs. It was decorated with a white lace ruche and cuffs. Mrs. Philsey was also carrying undergarments and a pair of black, ankle-high, lace-up boots. She placed the things on Alisha’s bed.

  bed.

  They talked about the clothes for a few minutes. She handed Alisha a volume of poetry left for her by Jeffery. As expected, Mrs. Philsey took al the credit for convincing Alisha to see him. She had coyly played up Alisha’s shyness and embarrassment at her position in the Oglala camp.

  Jeffery was satisfied with Mrs. Philsey’s handling of the situation for a while. He knew she was blatantly lying when she told him Alisha had heard such raving compliments about him that she felt she had to wait until she was more presentable. Being of a roguish, conspiratorial nature himself, Jeffery knew there was far more to this woman’s help than she let on. He would learn her reasons for her assistance with that bewitching, stubborn girl in the back room. He was positive she would be wel worth his time and trouble.

  Alisha looked at the book of poetry. It was an impersonal gift from a stranger to a stranger—or was it? It was a colection of sonnets by Wiliam Shakespeare. It included The Sonnets, Venus and Adonis, The Passionate Pilgrim, and A Lover’s Complaint. The forepage was inscribed with a short, clear message: “For a speedy recovery and a long-anticipated meeting. Yours, Jeffery.”

  She studied the book and the inscription. Mrs. Philsey watched the radiant smile play across her lips. She likes poetry, especialy love sonnets, she mused. Jeffery wil be happy to know his gift pleased her so much. I shal be sure to tel him. I bet he’s used that same tactic to woo the hearts of many an unsuspecting girl or lonely wife. Alisha can deal with his roving eye and rakish nature if and when she gets him.

  But Alisha’s smile was not because of the book, Jeffery’s kindness or inscription or its kind. It was for the bittersweet kindness or inscription or its kind. It was for the bittersweet memories of reading this same book with her father very long ago and far away in a flowerfiled garden in Liverpool. Stil gazing down at the book, Alisha hesitantly asked, “What does he say about my being… a captive… about what… happened out there?”

  “My dear Alisha, being a captive is no one’s fault. He does not blame you for what you could not help or prevent. He has been here long enough to know what these savages are like. He wil not hold any of this against you.” She spoke gently to encourage Alisha, hoping she would not change her mind about seeing him. Not after al the trouble she had gone to. Let her discover for herself what Jeffery’s opinion is of exslaves, especialy an ex-slave of his worst enemy, Gray Eagle. She could not suppress a sardonic smile that Gray Eagle had put one more thing over on the aristocratic Jeffery Gordon—he had taken this girl he so greatly desired first. She grinned maliciously while thinking how it must gal Jeffery to know she had slept with that savage many, many times. What she couldn’t understand was why Jeffery would lower himself to replace Gray Eagle.

  Alisha should have felt the first hints of warning in the tone of Mrs. Philsey’s voice or the gleam in her eyes. She would learn al too soon of this woman’s hatred and contempt for the Indians and anyone who accepted them as people.

  “But, Mrs. Philsey…”

  “No buts, my dear. It’s time to regain your youth and gaiety. Someone wil bring you water for your bath and shampoo. Do not disappoint me and Jeffery. I wil be back later to help you. The captain on duty is seeing to everything. Perk up! You’re so young and lovely. Everything wil be fine from now on.”

  and lovely. Everything wil be fine from now on.”

  Alisha sat down on the bed to wait for the tub and water to be sent in. She had to admit Mrs. Philsey was right. It was time to bring the old Lese back to life, if she stil lived somewhere deep inside.

  Time… She could almost hear her father’s deep voice as he quoted his favorite passage from the Good Book. “… To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose. A time to be born, a time to die; a time to kil; a time to heal; a time to destroy; a time to rebuild; a time to cry; a time to laugh; a time to grieve; a time to dance; a time to embrace; a time to refrain embracing; a time to get; a time to lose; a time to keep; a time to cast away; a time to be quiet; a time to speak up; a time for loving; a time for hating; a time for war; a time for peace…”

  There was so much truth and good advice in those words. Al of those things had been true about her at one time or another. She had found her time for love and hate, her time to cry; her time for getting and losing; and her time for war. Now was the time for her to find her rebuilding, healing, laughter, peace and casting away. Al she lacked was the courage and strength to do it. It was the time for her new beginning… but why al alone?

  She could not help but think on the words from her favorite passage. Today, they haunted her, for their meaning applied to her personaly. She could understand the emotions and meanings of this passage since she had lived it herself.

  “Entreat me not to leave thee… Where thou lodgest, I wil lodge: Thy people shal be my people … If aught but death part thee and me…” She had always thought it such a beautiful, bittersweet lovestory. It was far harder to accept hatred as the thing to part me from my love, she mused. It had not taken death to part to part me from my love, she mused. It had not taken death to part us, my love. It was your vengeance and rejection. I shal go my way and you, yours. Why does my heart ache so for you?

  The door behind Alisha silently opened. The tub and water were hauled in and set up. She did not take note of the task going on behind her, nor of the one who did it.

  Powchutu finished his task. He observed the girl who sat so gracefuly and proud on the bed, gazing out of the window in such deep thought. She had not seemed to know of his presence. She looked so smal and vulnerable, like a fragile desert flower. He had hoped to see and learn more of this woman of Wanmdi Hota’s. At least, more than her size and the color of her reddish-brown hair. He vowed, later, when I return …

  Chapter Thirteen

  The captain on duty should have realized the mistake he was making when he ordered Powchutu to go to Mrs. Philsey’s. Every man at Fort Pierre was aware of her intense dislike of the Indians, including Powchutu. He was like a slap in the face to her, for he was an example of an Indian daring to touch a white. Mrs. Philsey would be overjoyed when her husband’s tour of duty here would be over and they could return East, hopefuly to that new post she was working so hard on.

  She had spent enough time in this wilderness. She hungered for the day they could return to civilized living. She, like most of the others, had never tried to understand or accept the Indians. She considered them vile, filthy, low-born savages. Anyone who had anything to do with them also fel into category.

  Captain Tracy was thriled with this golden opportunity to degrade Powchutu. When Powchutu was at the fort, he was under the orders of the captain on duty. The other two officers did not particularly care for Powchutu, but did not try to find ways to put him down in front of the others. But Captain Tracy was different. He looked for anything which was difficult or demeaning for Powchutu to do. He enjoyed nothing better than to stand over him while he performed this kind of service. Until Powchutu was ready to make his move, he tolerated Tracy’s attitude.

  In Tracy’s attempts to belittle Powchutu, he loved to assign those jobs which were particularly female. He cackled to himself, thinking of the brawny, arrogant scout preparing a lady’s bath. This thinking of the brawny, arrogant scout preparing a lady’s bath. This is my best taunt yet, he crowed. Just wait until the other men heard ab
out this one. What a stroke of luck! Thank heavens for finicky females!

  Powchutu struggled hard to suppress his bitterness at these humiliating tasks. But today, he almost thanked Tracy for this assignment. His mounting curiosity to see this girl of Wanmdi Hota’s outweighed his desire to refuse such a ridiculous order. He grinned mockingly and accepted the order, much to Tracy’s chagrin. If Mrs. Philsey had not been out back hanging out her wash, she would have prevented the hauntingly bittersweet friendship which would bloom and grow into a tangled vine which would soon entwine both Alisha and Powchutu in its strangling, binding grasp. She did not observe his coming or going, but neither did Alisha. Alisha’s rambling thoughts were interrupted by Mrs. Philsey’s voice and tap on her shoulder. “Ready, my dear. The water and tub are prepared. I checked and it isn’t too hot for your back. I’l return later to rinse your hair for you. Just cal out when you’re ready.”

  Mrs. Philsey closed the window and curtains for privacy, then departed.

  Alisha slowly puled the gown over her head and dropped it on the bed. She glowed with modesty as the door abruptly opened and Mrs. Philsey came back into the room, without even knocking!

  No stranger, except Wanmdi Hota, had ever seen her naked… that is, while she was aware of it! Mrs. Philsey placed soap, towel and cloth near the tub and departed again.

  She lowered herself gradualy into the oblong wooden tub. She relaxed as the warm, scented water surrounded her. Mrs. Philsey had thought of everything, right down to bath oil and fragrant jasmine soap. She scrubbed her hair and skin, feeling fragrant jasmine soap. She scrubbed her hair and skin, feeling relaxed and clean for the first time since coming here. Mrs. Philsey had returned to rinse her hair with warm water from a smal bucket. She immediately left after finishing, carrying the bucket and the soiled gown.

  This bath and shampoo was perhaps the best she had ever taken in her entire life. She felt enlivened, refreshed and at ease, ready to face the world and Lieutenant Gordon, or so she believed. She reluctantly rose from the water and dried herself. She dressed in the green and white chambray, a style of dress her mother would have caled a morning dress. The paisley was a little too dressy for a first meeting, or even to wear at al in this part of the country. It was the kind of dress one would wear to dinner back East. Alisha almost regretted denying Elizabeth that beautiful dress, but she was positive she needed it far worse than Elizabeth did. Alisha toweled her hair and brushed it until it was soft, shiny and silky. Without thinking, she braided it Indian style. Perturbed, she realized this dress buttoned down the back. She must wait for Mrs. Philsey to return to do her up. Either Elizabeth had servants to help her dress, or Mrs. Philsey did not want to place the buttons up the front of this dress. Feeling slightly weakened by this flurry of activity, she sat down on the edge of the bed to rest for a minute. There came a soft, light tapping upon her door. Alisha had left the door slightly ajar to inform Mrs. Philsey she was finished. Thinking it was she, she caled out for her to enter, “I am finished. Come in …” She was slightly amused at the woman’s sudden politeness. Her back was to the door with her dress gaping open as she was putting the il-fitting shoes on her smal feet. How she wished she had her soft, comfortable moccasins.

  She stood up and turned. A radiant smile touched her lips and She stood up and turned. A radiant smile touched her lips and eyes, making them sparkle with vitality. She began, “I feel so much better, Mrs. Philsey. This was just what I.. .” Her remaining words froze in her throat. She paled and stiffened in fear and disbelief. The smile had instantly faded, leaving her lips slightly parted. Her green eyes had darkened and widened with panic.

  She stared into the handsome face of an Indian who was dressed like a white man, but who resembled Gray Eagle. Her eyes quickly registered his darkly tanned face; his colar-length ebony hair; his red cotton shirt; fawn-colored buckskin pants and vest; his knee-high, fringed moccasins; his height and size; the black hat with the wide brim and red braided band; and his strong, manly, arrogant features.

  His tal, muscular body seemed to fil the room. It emanated power and pride. Her eyes were drawn to his by their most unusual, slaty color and the fierce emotions she could read there. It had taken only moments for al these details to reach her mind, but it seemed like hours before she was fuly aware of her reaction to him and her bold, rude gaping. Was this man real or an apparition? He looked Indian, and yet, he did not.

  Powchutu had alertly noted her reaction to him. He read the apprehension, disbelief, terror and confusion in her eyes, but he also read more. There had been a brief flickering of other emotions in her eyes. She stared at him more as if she were seeing a ghost, rather than an enemy.

  He had not been prepared to see such an overwhelmingly beautiful, desirable woman. She was everything they had rumored her to be, but far more. He could easily understand both Gray Eagle’s and Jeffery’s interest in her. He was fascinated and astonished by her childlike innocence. She appeared so fragile and astonished by her childlike innocence. She appeared so fragile and dainty, and yet, there was pride and dignity in her expression. Never had he met or seen a female to compare with this girl. She spoke with her eyes, her vulnerability puling at the strings of his embittered heart. She had not moved or screamed. She just stared at him as if she waited to see what he intended to do with her. He was surprised to see only shock and fear in her green eyes. There were no signs of hatred or contempt.

  He moved slightly and spoke first, “I didn’t mean to frighten you, Miss. I’m Powchutu. I scout for this fort. I’m here to remove the tub and water.” Why was he bothering to explain, or to comfort her? He for damn sure couldn’t explain the grin on his face or his crazy mood. He felt like he was the hot sun, beating down on a delicate white flower while it waited in fear of death or destruction from his power and heat.

  When he spoke, her eyes riveted to his lips. Then without any warning, she began to slip to the floor in a faint. She was like a slender blade of grass succumbing to a heavy rainstorm. He was instantly at her side before she reached the floor. He tenderly lifted her and laid her on the bed, being very careful of her back. When he had first entered the room, he had seen the cruel marks of the lash upon her back through the gaped opening of her dress. He had inwardly flinched at the sight. Without knowing her, he was inflamed by her abuse. How could any man do something like that to such a girl, even a warrior like Wanmdi Hota?

  He took a cloth and wet it in the tub. He came to sit beside her on the bed as he gently wiped her face with the cool, wet cloth. Her eyelids fluttered and slowly opened. He looked down into the most bewitching eyes he had ever seen. For a time, he was lost in their depths. She met his steady gaze in bewilderment as he their depths. She met his steady gaze in bewilderment as he repeated his former words, in case she had not realy understood him.

  Sensing no danger or evil in this man, her color quickly returned to her face and the fear disappeared from her eyes. He watched the transformation with pleasure. She relaxed when she realized who he was. Her eyes softened and she smiled up at him. Without being aware of it, she felt a strange warming and disarming attraction to this man. The idea she should fear and despise him never entered her mind. She was embarrassed at her reaction to him, for he had been sent here to help her.

  When she answered him, her voice was as sweet and musical as the nightingale’s. She smeled of wildflowers. Her skin was as soft as rabbit fur. An eternal flame of love and desire ignited in his heart at that moment.

  There was no enmity in her eyes, only a light he had never seen before—acceptance and friendship. He knew without a doubt, here was the girl he had waited for, hungered for and dreamed about. Here was a girl worth possessing, worth fighting the entire world to possess. She recognized him for what he was and it did not matter. She looked at him as a person, a man. It only took a moment to recognize her value. Wanmdi Hota wil suffer a great loss in you! he thought. Or wil he? Would any man give up such a prize without a fight? He grinned as he thought about Jeff
ery’s persistence and impatience about this girl. Now he understood why.

  Alisha saw Powchutu return her friendly smile. “I am sorry, Powchutu. I guess you startled me. I was expecting Mrs. Philsey. You’re the first person I’ve seen since I came here. You’re an Indian, aren’t you?” She had an urge to know who he truly was. Indian, aren’t you?” She had an urge to know who he truly was. Automaticaly without thinking, he snapped, “I’m only half Indian! A hanke-wasichun … or half-breed as the white man says!

  At least, that’s what I’m most frequently caled.” The intense bitterness, unsuppressed hostility and suffering in his eyes and voice tore at her heart. He had never revealed his very heart and soul to anyone before, until this girl…

  Alisha could sympathize with his anger and pain. With al honesty and deep sincerity, she apologized to him, “I’m sorry, Powchutu. I didn’t know. I wouldn’t hurt or embarrass you intentionaly. Sometimes we have no control over who or what we are. Do not be ashamed of your mixed blood. Be proud to carry some of both inside you. Each of them has something good to offer you.”

  He gazed at this girl in wonder. He thought, she speaks with inteligence, wisdom and understanding. How can one so young be so kind and knowledgeable? Her words are true, but she is the only one who realizes it. Why could the others not be as wise and kind?

  Alisha did not know why she spoke so freely and openly to this total stranger, nor the reason she said what she did. The words and thoughts came to her mind and she knew them to be true. She noted how they touched and lightened his bitter heart. She thought, it must be terribly lonely and frightening to be so alone and misunderstood. I am happy I’ve helped him, if only in some smal way. He seems so nice and pleasant. Why does anyone treat him so cruely? A person cannot be held responsible for his parentage, nor can he change it.