Dances Naked

by Dani Haviland

  Big Sister inhaled sharply then brought her knees up to her chest in fear. She didn’t understand much of what the women were talking about, but she did know the word measles. She pointed to Prudence and asked, “Measles?”

  “Oh, no, no, no, sweetheart,” she said and gathered the frightened girl close, rocking her like the young child she was. “No measles, no diseases of any kind. I’m very healthy. I just look funny and I’m a bit old.”

  “So you don’t have the pox,” Rachel asked Prudence. She shook her head and held Big Sister even closer. She had always wanted a daughter and now that she felt the young girl in her arms, her desire for one was even stronger. She looked up and smiled at Number Two, the girl’s father. He was nice to look at, strong, and, she sighed, he didn’t cringe when he looked at her.

  Number Two watched the women as they talked together. He was glad that they let Big Sister stay with them. She had been very close to her mother and missed her terribly. Now there was at least one good woman in their tribe who she could learn from. Maybe two. He had seen the large mark on the new white woman’s face but that didn’t bother him. He had one on his belly and it didn’t make him different from any other man. She was nice to his daughter, had held her as if she was her own, and smiled at his son, too. It would be good if she had milk to feed his son—then he would take her for sure. But, she had let Rachel feed Baby Brother. He sighed. Even if she didn’t have milk, he’d like to keep her.

  “I’m sorry,” Prudence apologized and looked away from the handsome brave back to her confidant. Rachel had been speaking to her and she wasn’t paying attention. “I didn’t hear you.”

  “Would you keep him here with you tonight? You can sleep here and if he wakes up, just bring him to me and I’ll feed him. I want to sleep with my husband and son,” Rachel said, the unmistakable grin of anticipation of lovemaking showing across her whole, slightly twitching body.

  “Sure, but if you think that Big Sister and I can handle both of them, you can leave your son here, too. I don’t know how it is to lie with a husband, but I think it might be nicer if you didn’t have a wee one right next to you.” Prudence didn’t have any personal experience, but Sylvester had gone on and on about what a husband and wife did when they were married. Some of it had to be true.

  “Wow, thank you. That would be nice. I’ll just go feed Juni…” Rachel bit off the name. This was their new life. She would not use that name again. She’d have to remember to ask Marty not to use it either. “I’ll feed my son and bring him over here in a little bit,” she said then took her leave.

  Number Two watched as his daughter tried to communicate with Prudence, the woman who did not like her name. He’d give her another one if she stayed.

  Baby Brother had fallen asleep and now Big Sister was running her fingers through the white woman’s hair, getting ready to plait it like her own. There were very few words between them but they seemed to understand each other. And, like each other. There would never be anyone like his first wife, but he could have a new one. He could make good memories with her. And, make more children, too.

  Rachel walked over to Prudence, her slumbering son in her arms. “Here, he fell asleep already,” she said, then lay him down gently on the little bed that Big Sister had prepared, hoping that he’d stay asleep. “I guess the potato he ate for dinner agreed with him. I’ll just be over there,” Rachel pointed to the private area near the food cache. “Thanks again. And these men are nicer than any white men I’ve ever met. Be good to them and they’ll be good to you. Oh, and Marty and I aren’t prisoners. We’re here because we choose to be.”

  Big Sister settled the two boys together then curled around the pair, keeping them warm with her body heat, her back to the fire. It felt so good to have a full belly. Pfrat! But those potatoes gave her gas.

  Prudence saw that the sleeping pallet Big Sister had set up for her was in between the cozy little baby boys’ nest and one other. She looked over coyly to see if her suspicions were correct. Number Two was still watching her. He appeared to be the only one who hadn’t claimed his spot. Maybe he was the sentinel tonight. Marty wasn’t there yet but the bedroll on the other side of the fire looked like a white man’s, not an Indian’s. Rachel and Red Shirt were in their ‘suite’ near the food cache, already making soft, happy noises. Yes, the bed next to hers was most likely Number Two’s. She glanced over in his direction again, this time feeling brave enough to smile at him. She rearranged her skirts and got ready to lie back. Her hands reached up and felt the two braids Big Sister had put in her hair. A warm glow covered her body—she was starting to feel like an Indian already.

  Number Two made his decision. He came to his conclusion with the big head on his shoulders, but he had to admit, it was also influenced by the little head in his breechclout. He’d see if the woman would lie with him tonight. The near fight with Red Shirt earlier made it clear to him that having only one young woman between the two adult braves was dangerous. It was even worse because Rachel was so close to his son. He was grateful that she could give him her milk, but watching her feed his child stirred up feelings that he shouldn’t have for another man’s wife. He was grateful that Dances Naked had interceded in the misunderstanding even if it wasn’t his family involved. No, the white man was a part of their family now. He had been clever and generous in getting food for them. He would always be a member of his tribe, his family.

  Number Two walked over to the fire and thrust the end of his pitch soaked stick into the flame, twisting it around to catch fire. He was sure the new woman was still watching him. He didn’t want her to go to sleep yet. He had something to show her. He stood back and waved the torch at the woman who did not like her name, to show her he wanted her to come away with him.

  “Okay,” she said pensively then nodded to make sure he understood she’d come with him. Rachel had said these were good men; she’d have to trust her new friend’s judgment.

  The quiet young father led her thirty feet away from the campfire then handed her the torch. “Thank you,” she said nervously, not knowing what to expect but wanting to say something.

  The brave bent sideways and pulled out the knot in the leather thong holding up his breechclout. He held his clothing in place; he didn’t want to scare her by giving her the wrong impression. But, she wasn’t frightened, not much anyway. She looked into his face, trying to read his intentions. What she saw wasn’t threatening; he meant her no harm.

  He could see that she wasn’t afraid of him. He was glad that she trusted him already. He sighed loudly then pulled out the leather belt and let his breechclout drop to the ground. His shirt was long and covered him. Hopefully, she wouldn’t think he was there to take her against her will.

  Prudence didn’t take her eyes off Number Two’s face. She knew he was taking off his pants, as they were, but could see that he wasn’t aggressive. He gently guided her torch bearing hand down toward his groin. He lifted his shirt to the side with one hand and pointed with the other: he wanted her to see it.

  Prudence was bashful and didn’t want to look down, “Umph,” he grunted, as he looked her in the eye then peered down to where he wanted her to look. She let her eyes follow his gaze then saw it: the port wine stain birthmark just like hers, only lower, much lower. It didn’t cover his privates but was off to the side.

  His hand was covering the area that he would only share with his wife. He left his hand there then reached up with the other, the one he had been pointing with, and gently touched the deep reddish purple side of her face. Yes, it felt just like the rest of her skin, just like the skin on one side of his lower belly felt like the other.

  “Thank you,” she said softly, placing her hand on top of his cheek-caressing palm. “You’re beautiful, too.”

  Number Two inhaled deeply. He wanted to be with her tonight, to join with her, and make her his wife. She was beautiful despite the berry-colored skin on her face, and she smelled like springtime. He dropped his other hand, letting th
e shirt hide his man parts that were beginning to swell with happiness and hope—he didn’t want to scare her. She looked older, as old as he was, and much older than Rachel, but she also looked pure. He would be gentle with her, take his time, and guide her so she would enjoy becoming one with him. The night was long. They would have time. Hopefully, the children wouldn’t waken.

  “I think we should go back,” Prudence said as she looked back to the campfire and the others who were now filling in the empty spaces. Marty had thrown out his blanket and was trying to cover his bare legs by pulling the edges up over them. Just as he got one side arranged, the other would fall down. He groaned in frustration and decided to sleep on his side. Red Shirt was already with Rachel. They both could hear her giggles and the chief’s short, abbreviated grunts of satisfaction.

  Number Two took her free hand into his, squatted down quickly, and retrieved his leather belt and breechclout with the other. He should put it on before going to his bed but he didn’t want to dress in front of her. Yes, he’d let her keep the torch and lead the way to their adjoining beds.

  Prudence put the torch into the fire and walked to the pallet that Big Sister had prepared for her. Number Two kept hold of her hand as she settled onto it. Or maybe she kept hold of his hand as she lay down. No, they were both holding onto each other, even though it was awkward. Neither one of them wanted to be the first to let go.

  Finally, Number Two released her hand, but only so he could scoot his bedroll closer to hers. Prudence rolled onto her side, trying not to listen, sort of, to the sounds of lovemaking from Rachel and her Indian brave. It wouldn’t take much, maybe, to begin a relationship with Number Two. She already knew that he liked her. She knew that a man’s member got bigger when it was time to mate. Sylvester had grabbed her hand once and put it on his crotch. ‘This is for you,’ he had said, then gyrated underneath her trapped palm. She shuddered at the memory.

  The woman must be cold—she is shaking. Number Two scooted closer to her and put his arm over her waist, pulling her gently to him so she could share his warmth. He could smell her. She smelled of the flowers in the spring, the pink ones with thorns on them that bloomed for less than a month, and then were gone. Her hair was parted; Big Sister had plaited her hair and now her neck and shoulders were bare. Without thinking, his nose moved in to her neck, sniffing gently so he could get more of her aroma. He felt her react with a quick gasp. But, she didn’t move away. It took a moment, but she responded to him. She took her hand, placed it on his arm, then scooted as close to him as she could with her clothes on. Number Two gulped. She had her clothes on. He wanted them off but his daughter was on the other side of the woman he wanted to mate with. He was fairly sure that she felt the same way about him but he knew that the first time, if it was her first time, they should be alone. She would have some pain and he didn’t want her to cry out and scare the children.

  Ж

  Red Shirt let Rachel fall asleep after they had become one again. Tonight she had asked him to give the boy a name. “Later,” he had told her, glad that he could remember the word to use. It was easier for him to understand the white man’s words than to speak them.

  “Later?” she asked then tilted her head aside; her eyes squinted as if picturing that name applied to her toddler son. He shook his head and snorted in negation. “Oh,” she said as realization hit her, “you’ll give him a name, later…”

  He nodded. Yes, she was pretty and soft and tasted good all over; could cook potatoes, and was nice to the other children, but she wasn’t too bright. But, she was his…and so was the boy.

  He was tired but needed to stay awake and make sure Number Two didn’t mate with the white woman who had walked into their village. She had a family and they would be looking for her. Yes, he would have to make sure they stayed apart. Big Sister had put the woman who did not like her name’s bed between her and her father. He wouldn’t embarrass the man by moving it away from her. But, he would make sure they kept their clothes on.

  The woman was older. Maybe she had a husband before and he had died. Maybe she had children and they were dead also. Maybe—but she was alone now. If they joined tonight and his seed overtook hers, she could not go back to her family. The white man would hunt down his people if she came back with an Indian child in her belly. He knew this. He had seen it happen. He wouldn’t let it happen to his brother-in-law.

  Ж

  Number Two awoke before anyone. He hadn’t joined with the woman, but now wished he had. She probably would have been able to be quiet and not cry out in pain when her maidenhead was pierced, but it was too late now. The sun would be rising soon. If he had made her his wife, Red Shirt wouldn’t be able to send her away. Now he could. But, before she left, he would give her a gift: a name. He leaned forward and gave her a kiss on her pale, soft neck. She sighed and her bottom squirmed toward him in response to his lips. Then she froze. She panicked momentarily when she felt it: his firmness. She realized what it was and who it belonged to then relaxed back into it, wiggling against him as if was the cure to the itch she felt deep inside her womb. Oh wait—it was the solution.

  Number Two’s arm reached over her waist and pointed to the sky just above the horizon. She followed his finger and saw what he was pointing to. “You,” he said in a guttural tone.

  “The Morning Star?” she whispered. “You mean I’m the Morning Star?” Number Two nodded and smiled although she wasn’t looking at him. He kissed her neck again, making himself even more uncomfortable with the feel of her closeness. “My name is Morning Star?” she asked, then turned over to face him, her hand on his waist for reassurance.

  “Morning Star, beautiful,” he replied. She was a woman and he could speak English with her, when they were in private.

  “Thank you,” she said then leaned forward to place her face close to his. She’d never kissed a man—Daddy didn’t count and his kisses were always on the cheek anyhow. She shut her eyes, waited, and then felt his nose touching hers, rubbing against hers softly, letting his lips brush hers. The gentle brushing continued until she couldn’t hold back. She smashed her lips into his as she reached around his waist and clutched him tightly to her. She wasn’t sure what was happening: it had to be instinct. All she knew was that she wanted to tear off her clothes and rub her skin all over his. His mouth was on hers, but she wanted to be inside his mouth. And, she wanted that prick part to be inside her, too.

  Number Two pulled away quickly and sharply, pushed her away, then got to his feet. No words were spoken, but suddenly a foot was kicking her.

  Red Shirt had found them in their tangled limb embrace and had kicked Number Two away from her, accidentally kicking her, too. He shook his head at her then glared at Number Two: no mating.

  The scuffle had awakened Marty and now the others were rousing, too. Rachel stepped over her son and reached for Baby Brother who was gnawing at his fist, getting ready to waken everyone. Oops—too late! Marty looked around and saw that there was trouble in paradise. Red Shirt was on the warpath with Number Two again. At least this time it didn’t involve Rachel.

  “What’s going on?” Prudence asked Marty.

  “Well, I don’t speak Cherokee or whatever it is they’re speaking, but I think that Number Two wasn’t supposed to, um, be familiar with you last night. You were supposed to go back to your family untouched.”

  “But I don’t want to go back!” she carped. “I like it here and I like him, too. I want to be his wife!” she said, then added, “And, I’m pretty sure he wants me, too!”

  “Well, if Red Shirt stopped you two in time, then he’ll send you back,” Marty said plainly, trying to hold back the feeling of dejection that he was sharing with her.

  “And if he didn’t?” Prudence asked vehemently, shoulders back in defiance. She was upset about the leaving part, but was also suffering from a severe case of coitus interuptus.

  “Well, they can’t chance you going back pregnant,” Marty began then stopped. He could see th
e plan forming in her head. She’d lie—say anything—to stay. He was a light sleeper and knew they hadn’t consummated their hoped for relationship. He wouldn’t rat them out though. He doubted if he could anyway. He’d seen that determined look before. She’d stay with Number Two if she had to sew herself to him.

  Prudence interrupted the two men’s argument, not with words, but with her attitude. She bent over and picked up the breechclout Number Two had never put back on. She waved it at Red Shirt then took solid, stomping footsteps to her betrothed, putting her arm inside his elbow. She handed him his loincloth, which he accepted with a slight smirk. She pointed to her birthmark then pointed down to the part of his shirt that covered the mark Number Two had shown her earlier. “Mine,” she said, then hugged his arm closer to her.

  Number Two’s grin grew in pride at his clever wife’s declaration. She hadn’t lied to the chief, that would have been bad, but she had let him assume that they had mated. He could claim her as his wife now, but they’d have to wait until evening to seal their union. And, maybe they would make another son for him.

  14 One More for the Tribe

  ortunately, the morning confrontation ended without blows being thrown or anyone being evicted from the tribe—at least not yet. Marty knew that Red Shirt had a difficult decision to make—keep Prudence or escort her home. He was a newlywed himself and surely didn’t begrudge his second in command a wife and mother for his two young, motherless children. It wasn’t an easy issue to resolve, but it just got harder. It looked like the two new acquaintances had really hit it off and sealed the bond of marriage. Red Shirt couldn’t let her go back to her father if she was possibly carrying Number Two’s baby. Her father certainly wouldn’t believe how she was wantonly throwing herself at the Indian brave. He was sure to claim rape and want revenge. No, Marty decided—it wasn’t going to be a hard choice for the chief. She would have to stay with them and hope that her father believed her tale of going to England.