Savage Ecstasy

by Janelle Taylor

  She slapped at him and clawed at his face. She beat on him with her smal, ineffective fists. She franticaly grabbed a handful of hair. She yanked and yanked with al her might.

  He jerked his head back angrily and he glared down at her. His effort to seduce her was thwarted and the fires leaping in his body retaliated, “Soon, you’l come a-begging for what you now reject! You don’t play with a man’s emotions like that, then shy off reject! You don’t play with a man’s emotions like that, then shy off like some frightened young virgin—which you’re not!”

  Alisha lowered her lashes in shame and guilt.

  He brutaly continued, “You can push a man only so far, Alisha, then he’l take by force what you freely offered, just like that savage did. Is that what you want, force to make it blameless for you?”

  There had never been a time when he had not been in ful command and control—until today, until Alisha…

  The look on her face calmed his agitation. She looked like a hurt child. Never had he noticed such hurt and pain in a woman’s eyes before. Tears flowed from her translucent eyes and slid down her rosy cheeks. She had lowered her head in submission. Hechided himself sternly, this was the wrong time and way to reach her. Damn! Why had he lost control of the situation like that? Now, he would have to win her trust al over again. If only she weren’t so innocent and beautiful. She was like a child in a woman’s body. He reached out his hand and lifted her chin. He spoke softly, in a tone filed with remorse and apology, I’m sorry, Alisha. I guess I lost my head there for a time. It wasn’t your fault. You’ve just got a way of getting to me. I apologize for my behavior. I want you like I’ve wanted no other woman.

  “But my patience is short and my hunger for you so powerful. If you’l give me the time, I’l prove myself to you. Think about what I have to offer you and what you need. I need you, Alisha, and I think you need me. We’re a lot alike and we have a lot to give to one another. For once, Alisha, don’t be afraid to reach out and take what you want. I can promise you—it won’t be like it was with those savages.”

  His tone was accomplishing everything he wished it would, for His tone was accomplishing everything he wished it would, for she was greatly tempted to throw herself into his arms and tel him she would belong to him forever.

  Then Jeffery added, “I’m you’re best hope here, Alisha. Just don’t take too long with your decision …” He had hoped to help her see the light as quickly as possible. Perhaps if she feared he might lose interest or become discouraged, she might make some commitment to him sooner. But his words carried the tone of a threat, not a promise.

  She mentaly backed up. I’m truly sorry if I misled you, Jeffery. I did not mean for you to think… I mean, I do find you most charming and attractive, but I’m not ready to commit myself to you or anyone just now. There are things I must work out in myself first. Please understand, it isn’t you or what you did … It’s just I …

  I can’t bring myself to … You frightened me with the way you acted and the way you were looking at me. I have never known or met anyone like you and I’m unsure of what it is you want or expect from me. Whatever it is, I’m not ready or prepared to even know about it. Can we talk about it later? Maybe in time, I could … we could … Al I ask is time, Jeffery, just a little more time.”

  He stepped back and smiled that beguiling smile ofhis, nodding acceptance of her terms. At least, for a while … He convinced her of his galant intentions of waiting until she was ready to make the first move toward him.

  Although Alisha tried to relax and suppress her fears about Jeffery, there was a hidden strain in her. She was on constant guard against another such incident between them and of alowing herself to trust him too much too soon.

  She became agitated at his constant reminders of her vulnerable position. Jeffery would tel her how much he wanted her vulnerable position. Jeffery would tel her how much he wanted her and alude to something special between them. Although he never proposed marriage, this or love was what she thought he wanted from her. His real intention never entered her pristine mind …

  Chapter Fourteen

  Alisha would not dare to think about what Fort Pierre would say about her nocturnal talks with Powchutu. They would no doubt be greatly shocked and enraged.

  Several days after the confrontation between Powchutu and Jeffery, Alisha had been sitting by her open window in the dark to catch the cooler night breeze. When Powchutu passed nearby on his way to his room, she softly caled out to him. He looked around to make sure no one saw him, then came over to her. She apologized for the scene she had caused, and he hastily explained it was not her fault. He assured her the men had only used her as an excuse to antagonize him. They would have found something else to use if she had not been there.

  Thus began Alisha’s friendship with the red man.

  She would sit on the floor beside her window as he leaned against the outside wal. They would talk about the Fort Pierre people. They would often mimick some of them and snicker quietly, like two childish conspirators.

  Most of the nights, their talks would center around this land, the settlers, their lives, and the Indians. Alisha did not realize that she thirsted for knowledge about the Indians in order to help her understand Gray Eagle and her interlude with him. There was so much to learn, and for some imperceptible reason, so little time to do so.

  Powchutu also felt this urge to teach her al he knew, and to help her understand al these things, but especialy al about the help her understand al these things, but especialy al about the Oglala and the warrior Gray Eagle. He would talk with her for hours on end. Sometimes, she felt her head was brimming with facts; then other times, she felt she understood nothing of the things he told her.

  He related the story of how the Sioux had received their name from the French, from a word “nadowessioux,” which meant

  “enemies”; but the people caled themselves “Dakotas,” which meant “friends.”

  Powchutu told Alisha that the Sioux practiced what was caled a Warrior Society. The braves earned their membership by bravery and generosity. A warrior had the right to go on hunts and raids as a member of the party and could be chosen as the leader for them. After his selection, the leader would then select the men to accompany him and the object of their hunt or raid. There were two times when al the hunters and warriors were joined in one band and this was for the spring and winter buffalo hunts or for tribal war. Alisha recaled the many times she had seen Wanmdi Hota chosen as the leader. He was greatly loved and respected by his people. Wanmdi Hota’s position was very important. She wondered how this council had voted on how she should be treated and punished, or if they had had any say in her relationship with their beloved warrior. Had he lacked the power to go against the council and change their demands, or had he wilingly accepted their decisions about her?

  She wondered what took place at those meetings he went to in the great teepee in the center of the vilage. Just how much did his laws and customs have to do with her troubles? Were his people angered by their great warrior taking and protecting one of their enemies, even one who had helped him? Perhaps that was the enemies, even one who had helped him? Perhaps that was the reason her life had been spared.

  The truth hit her like a bright, blinding light: Her worst punishments folowed public defiance of him. It appeared she was trying to force him to show favor to her or his people. Had she forced him into choosing between her abuse and his power? Had she pushed his back to a wal, leaving him no way out but to lash out at her? These doubts tore at her mind, for she would never know.

  Alisha listened with great interest to Powchutu’s stories about the caling of coup—the teling of his deeds of bravery, daring and generosity. The caling of coup was done at special ceremonies. The warrior’s best friend usualy did this before battle or before a contest. The people would cheer loudly for their favorite warrior or sing along when his coups were chanted.

  Honor and respect were ingrained into the warriors from the
time of birth. Powchutu said, “There is no greater shame to a warrior than the loss of face and his honor before his own people. This is even more vital to a great warrior or leader. He must never alow anything or anyone to darken his name or honor… no one…”

  Alisha winced at this knowledge, for that was exactly what she had done many times. Perhaps her offer of help at her fortress had been an embarrassment to him. Had he thought it would damage his pride to alow her to help him? Had he believed she had been trying to taunt him, she a mere girl in control of a great warrior? Had she committed some grave error in etiquette by touching him?

  One night, they discussed the white man’s religion in comparison to the Indian’s. The two religious concepts had many similarities, and yet, they were very different. He related the Sacred Circle of Life to her. She recaled its scenes from the ceremonial Circle of Life to her. She recaled its scenes from the ceremonial lodge. They honored mother earth Makakin and the sun Wi. They revered al of Wakantanka’s creations.

  They worshipped Wakantanka, ruler of the sky, water, land, animals and men. “Al things are His creations and under His watchful eyes and protection. He sees, hears and knows al things.”

  Powchutu explained, “Wakantanka is to the Indian what God is to the white man. The Indian believes al things have spirits, good or evil. The Indian lives as one with the land and nature. We live, grow and learn together as Wakantanka planned.”

  They discussed the role and life of children in the Indian society. He told her of their training, love and protection by al adults. Each child was taught to know his proper place in the tribe. Respect was one of the main traits they were taught. Then came the preparation for girls to become wives and mothers, and for the boys to become hunters and warriors. The children were inured with honor, obedience, generosity and pride. They were instiled with the laws and customs of their tribe and those of nature. They were ingrained with these traits from the time of birth, and honored and practiced them until death.

  Alisha plied Powchutu with many questions about the burial scaffolds she had seen and the red man’s beliefs in death and the afterlife. Powchutu said, “They place the body of the falen warrior on a high scaffold in sacrifice and to protect it from wild animals. The departed warrior’s spirit is taken by the sun, wind and rain elements. They claim it and lead it to the Ghost Trail, the Mahpiya Ocanku. There, his spirit walks in peace and happiness until Wakantanka accepts his spirit unto himself forever. His people kil the warrior’s horse and send it, along with his weapons and possessions, with him to aid him on his journey to his new life. possessions, with him to aid him on his journey to his new life. White traders and trappers have been known to steal the weapons and possessions of dead warriors. This is a death punishment. No one must touch the sacred scaffold or the body of the falen warrior.”

  They talked for many hours on the importance of dreams and visions in the lives of the Indian. “A dream is contact with the Great Spirit, Alisha, but a vision is a command or guidance from him. He gives the warrior instructions and warnings in these visions. The warrior must do as the vision commands, or face death and dishonor.

  “Each young boy at the proper age goes out into the wilderness alone. He refuses drink, food and sleep until the Great Spirit comes to him in a special vision to give him this guidance for his life. At birth, a boy is given a child’s name, but the Great Spirit gives the man his true name.”

  “Is this how Wanmdi Hota received his name?” Alisha eagerly inquired.

  Powchutu nodded. “In his vision quest, he saw a gray eagle. He took this name and its meaning for guidance and strength. This is true of the others, like his koda Wanhinkpe Ska. His name White Arrow means straight and true. I have not sought my vision or a new name. I stil carry my childhood name given me by my mother.”

  She humorously related the name White Arrow had given to her. He laughed as he agreed “Grass-Eyes” was a good and true name for her. She hesitated a moment, afraid of his answer, then asked him what “Cinstinna” meant.

  He asked who caled her by this name. “Wanmdi Hota did so many times. What does it mean?’

  “It means ‘Little One.’ Which beside him, you are surely that!

  “It means ‘Little One.’ Which beside him, you are surely that!

  I have heard he is a tal, powerful man.”

  “Yes. But to him, I am very smal in many ways.” She joked lightly as she secretly recaled the tone of his voice when he caled her this. It had been soft, never mocking.

  Powchutu did not want to discuss his rival and continued, “The young boys go through strict training and teaching before they are ready for their vision quest. It is a great ordeal for a young boy. Many have failed or died. To die is the wil of Wakantanka, but to fail is a dishonor. After the boy receives his vision, he returns to his vilage and goes through a secret ceremony to be accepted into manhood and the first level of the Warrior Society. Each new level in the society is attained by age or coups. Only the very bravest of warriors gain this highest level. Al leaders and chiefs come from this level.”

  He teased her with his next question. “Did you know Wanmdi Hota has earned the highest of al honors of any tribe? He is the most respected and famed warrior here. No man can stand up to his fame and honor.”

  Alisha gaped at him in astonishment. “Are you saying he is the most important and powerful warrior in this entire area?”

  “Yes. In spite of your treatment, you were greatly envied by the others, and honored to be chosen by him.” He observed the effect of those words on her.

  She flushed at the way Powchutu was looking at her. She angrily retorted, “I do not cal it an honor to be the slave of any man, not even a demi-god himself! Let any woman who envied my place take it! If they desire such a man as that, then they are most welcome to himΛ

  His words had stung deeply. She does not lie or deceive wel, His words had stung deeply. She does not lie or deceive wel, Powchutu reasoned. I wonder if Wanmdi Hota knows she loves him. He must, for she does not have the eyes to fool him. He did not realize how lucky he was to have had her first. On another occasion, Alisha asked what Jeffery had meant about the warriors meeting to smoke a war-pipe. Powchutu said,

  “Pipe smoking is done on many occasions, in prayer rituals, friendship parley, and meetings of the Society. A man’s personal prayer pipe is thought to be sacred and is never to be touched by others. To steal the prayer pipe of an enemy is a very high coup. When members of different tribes meet, they smoke a pipe of friendship. When tribes join to declare war on another tribe, they smoke the same pipe to show oneness in wil and spirit. The smoke from the prayer pipe is thought to be the breath of the Great Spirit. It is said to instil knowledge and courage in the warriors, and truce between those who share it.”

  Powchutu explained another custom to Alisha. “Al events, battles and histories are recorded and remembered through chants and dances. One of the most important is the Buffalo Dance after the hunts. It depicts the fight with the big buls, teling of the bravery and skil of the hunters. They act it out like what the white man cals a play. You were probably too scared to notice much about the Victory Dance, but I am sure you have witnessed one. This is done after great battles and raids. The warriors dance and chant their gratitude for their safety and success. It tels of their victory over their enemies.

  “I suppose the most misunderstood dance is the War Dance. It is not to declare war but to cal the warriors together and prepare them for the coming battle. The most important and meaningful ritual is the Sun Dance because of its meaning. It’s held once a year at the is the Sun Dance because of its meaning. It’s held once a year at the end of the summer when the tribe is al together for the winter buffalo hunt. They feast and celebrate for four or five days and nights. This is a highly revered time for al the people.” Suddenly, Powchutu stopped speaking.

  Alisha looked out the window to see why he had abruptly stopped. Powchutu was gazing off into the darkness, as if his thoughts were miles
away. He was vividly recaling the Sun Dance he had witnessed when he had been living with the Indians. Alisha asked, “Powchutu, is something wrong? Had you rather not speak of the Sun Dance to me?”

  He looked over at her and smiled. “No, Alisha. I was just recaling the one I witnessed long ago. It was wonderful and inspiring, and yet gruesome and terrible. I do not believe I could go through what those warriors did, not even for such great honor and gratitude.”

  “Why is this ritual so different and important?” “They prepare for it for many weeks. I wil tel you the most important things. They take a buffalo skul and place it upon a pole cut from the sacred cottonwood tree. The warriors who have chosen to sacrifice their flesh and blood to the Great Spirit are made ready. It is done to show obedience and gratitude to Him. They are first taken to the Sweat Lodge for fasting and purifying. When the day for the Sun Dance comes, they are skewered to the pole in the center of camp. The ceremonial chief cuts two strips of skin and muscle in the warrior’s chest. He secures the muscle to rawhide thongs and the thongs to the pole. The ceremony begins. The warriors dance, pray and chant around the pole. They blow on eagle-bone whistles to cal on their spirit helpers to give them the strength and courage to endure this ordeal. They must endure the pain while trying to pul endure this ordeal. They must endure the pain while trying to pul free from the pole. It is a disgrace to the warrior to cry out. Death is preferred. I have been told many warriors have died because of this ritual.

  “When the warrior has managed to pul himself free, he is doctored and fed. This deed is added to his coups and al his coups are sung and chanted by the people in his honor. The torn strips of skin leave scars to prove this warrior has performed this great sacrifice.