Powchutu noted the visible tensing in Gray Eagle’s body. He watched the dangerous narrowing of his foe’s eyes. He felt that burning coldness touch his very soul. He fully recognized the courage and power that this man possessed. He curiously watched him as suspicion and doubt began to gradually edge their way into Gray Eagle’s mind and heart. Although Gray Eagle was praised for his unreadable expressions, there were many emotions clearly visible in his face at that very moment. Powchutu was filled with malevolent pleasure.
Powchutu was not only a good guesser, but he was also a bold and daring liar. Knowing both Gray Eagle and Alisha, he artfully led Gray Eagle to believe that he had totally misjudged Alisha and her affections. All of Powchutu’s claims sounded logical. Stone by stone, Powchutu maliciously dismantled Gray Eagle’s wall of trust in Alisha, and he uprooted the very foundation of his acceptance of her.
“Does a woman love a man who beats and shames her?” he shouted at Alisha’s love. “Does she turn to the same man who has killed her people, destroyed her life and happiness? Does she love a man who has cruelly lashed her before his people only because she sought freedom from him? Can she love a man who steals her from safety and from the man she truly loves? Can she love a man who raped her and who forced her to endure his touch when it is another’s that she wants? In her place, would you love her?” he acidly challenged.
Powchutu shifted from one foot to the other as he raged at Gray Eagle. “Did you know that each time you took her on your mat she closed her eyes and pretended you were me? I will kill you for making her endure such shame.” He flung his cutting words at Gray Eagle’s heart like razor-sharp daggers. “You have no guilt or honor. You know no mercy or kindness. You are not fit to live beneath the eyes of the Great Spirit. All you have is your bloody pride! Pride painted red with the blood of your enemies and your wife. You do not deserve to spend one night with her.”
Gray Eagle still remained silent and motionless as Powchutu leveled his charges. “Do you know how I felt when I begged her to endure your touch just to save her life and that of our child’s? I was forced to put aside my pride and to become helpless in your desire to have her at any cost. I was forced to watch you take her and ride away. I was as powerless as a snared rabbit! She trusted me, but I could not save her from you. That day at the fort, she pleaded with me not to send her back to you. She asked me to kill her rather than send her away from my side. I held her in my arms and urged her to see there was no other way to resist your power. Your generous heart spared me as her friend and protector. Now I have come to reclaim her. She is mine, Wanmdi Hota, mine! Could you not see the love in her eyes for me? Did you not feel it when she told me goodbye that last day at the fort? Recall that day, Wanmdi Hota, and you will have your answers. You sat there waiting for her to come to you, but she was stalling for more time with me.
“Even now you leave her alone to die, without protection or water. You do not deserve to live. The Great Spirit will not protect the life of one who kills without honor and mercy. But she will not die, for I will save her. I will love and protect her.”
Still, Gray Eagle remained alert and silent. Powchutu glared at him, challenging him to deny his claims. When Gray Eagle refused to be baited, Powchutu continued, “Even after all you have done to her, she does not wish to kill you to insure our escape. But she knows you will never permit her to leave here alive. She is pure and gentle. You have, done much to harm her.”
Powchutu laughed harshly and said, “I have a parting gift for you from Alisha. She said she no longer needs the protection of Shalee.”
As he spoke, he tossed a white headband to Gray Eagle: the gift from Black Cloud to his married daughter. Powchutu smiled at his cunning idea. Gray Eagle seized the headband and crushed it tightly in his powerful grip, never realizing that it had not just come from the warm brow of his wife.
Powchutu sensed that he was actually getting through to the great warrior. He was filled with a heady sense of power and confidence. He arrogantly stated, “We were to marry but you took her away from me. My honor cannot permit such cruelty to the woman I love, the woman who will soon bear my child. I will have her back this very day. She has learned your vile secret, that you speak her tongue. She knows you have always heard her words, but ignored them. Your own deceit and treachery has made our trap possible. The talk you overheard in Matu’s tepee was a trick. We hoped you would follow after her in my place, just as you did. Then we would have you out here alone and helpless. But I did not foresee your plans with White Arrow to hold me captive. Alisha feared you had killed me. She was planning to keep pretending to be your loving and dutiful wife; she was going to let you think our child was yours. Now, it will not be necessary. I convinced White Arrow of my trust in you. I told him I was returning to Grota’s camp. There is no one to help you now, great warrior of the Sioux. You will begone forever from these lands, just as we will. Alisha will no longer fear the discovery of her deceit. She will no longer feel any fear or shame. If I could not join her, she prayed that you would somehow accept a half-breed child if you believed that it was your own son. Yet knowing how you despised and scorned me because I am a half-breed, she feared you might not accept your own child.”
Each time that Powchutu purposely mentioned the child, Gray Eagle’s jawline would grow taut, and his hands would clench into tight fists. Dangerous flames would spark and glow brightly in his stygian eyes, then quickly disappear as he sought to control his unleashed emotions. For the first time, he finally spoke, “You will not escape Wanmdi Hota vengeance. She never belong to you, nor to no other man,” he vowed icily, his eyes as cold and forbidding as his voice.
Fear coursed in Powchutu’s veins at the ominous tone in Gray Eagle’s threat. “Dead men cannot seek revenge!” he shouted at him to settle his jittery nerves.
Gray Eagle’s dauntless manner taunted him. “I not die easy or quick, Hanke-wasichu. She mine forever,” came his too calm argument. “She mine. Never let go. Never.”
Gray Eagle had touched a raw nerve by calling Powchutu a half-breed. Returning the insult, Powchutu yelled at him, “You bloody savage! I will be the one at her side this very night. It is my son she carries within her body. I know all you have done to her. You will die for it, you arrogant tyrant!” His body shook with the force of his uncontrollable rage.
“You blind to truth, Scout. Her love words reached my ears many times in tepee. She belong to Wanmdi Hota. You lie to self. She is mine.”
Carried away with his unbridled anger, Powchutu did not realize that Gray Eagle had not mentioned the child, nor had he claimed any love for Alisha. He was aware of the fact that he had not denied any of his previous charges against him. He assumed this to mean that he had no defense, that he was indeed guilty of all those accusations.
“You lie, savage! She was trapped by you. Only false words and feigned actions could protect her. She endured it all for me. She could not tell you about our love, nor about our child. You would have killed them both. She left the fort knowing I would come for her when the time was right. What would you know about love or honor! When Brave Bear came to your camp, she feared you had sold her to him; she feared I would not be able to find her in his-camp. I laughed as you begged me to go to the Blackfoot camp and talk with her. I would never have told her of your desire to marry her. I would not tell her of your deceitful offer of acceptance and kindness. I knew you lied. It was almost too easy to reclaim her there,” he boasted loudly.
He pointed his finger at Gray Eagle and stated emphatically, “You said I was to tell her that she was Black Cloud’s daughter Shalee. You said to tell her you had not sold her that morning in your tepee, that they had demanded her return to her father. You said you wanted to marry her. You said to tell her you would never harm her ever again. I told her none of these lies! When we went to Black Cloud’s tepee to talk, I told her you spoke English. She could not believe your hatred and cruelty were so deep and strong. The decision was made then; we planned our escape r
ight under the chief’s ears and he never knew it. Why do you think she was so terrified by your challenge to Brave Bear for her hand? I will tell you. She feared you might win and reclaim her. Her tender heart could not accept the death of a kind man like Brave Bear as payment for your revenge and for her freedom. We sought to disarm you with her open show of love and respect for you. It worked, for you accepted it all. You were fooled by the white girl you now seek to destroy.” His chest vibrated with sarcastic laughter.
“You lie, Scout. She not know I speak her tongue. I tell Alisha one moon past. I spoke truth to her. You pay for trouble. Alisha not go. She wife,” he replied, apparently confused by the meanings of many of the English words and by the speed in which Powchutu flung them at him.
“We suspected you could understand her tongue. Too many times you knew things she spoke about. She is no fool. In the Blackfoot camp I answered her remaining doubts. She knows your secret. She knows how you used it against her. We spoke only those words we wished you to overhear. When you learned the truth that she was not Shalee, you dared not dishonor yourself by revealing how a young white girl and a half-breed, a hanke-wasichu,” he sneered in livid rage, “had deceived the great Wanmdi Hota. We suspected you would bide your time until her death could be a secret. She was not tricked by all your false words of love. She knows how much you hate her, for you have shown her many times before.”
For an instant, it appeared as if Gray Eagle would deny these words, but he had only stiffened and remained silent. His expression said that he was carefully reviewing Powchutu’s words. But Powchutu did not want that; it might reveal his own lies. He wanted to savor the most revenge he could before killing Gray Eagle. He wanted him to suffer just as she had done. Nothing could be worse than to be betrayed, deceived, and dishonored. He reasoned that surely Gray Eagle must be feeling all of these emotions. Such feelings made him a deadly foe. He quickly decided that it was time to end this fatal charade.
“She waits for my return where you left her to die this morning. Soon we will be far away. Before five moons have crossed the sky, we will be joined; she has promised me this. Our son will be born before the snows leave the sacred mountains in the spring. We will be free and happy. Your feet will walk the ghost trail before the sun leaves the sky this very day. She is mine for all time. There is no way you can stop us.”
“You lie, hanke-wasichu!” he shouted, his great anger vividly showing for the first time. He moved forward as if to attack Powchutu, for a moment forgetting the pistol in his grasp.
Powchutu panicked and fired instantly, the ball striking Gray Eagle’s broad chest. He staggered backwards a few steps at the stunning impact at such a close range. His hand swiftly covered the wound near his heart. His handsome face revealed total disbelief, as if he never truly believed that the scout was going to murder him in cold blood.
His expression of shock and pain was quickly concealed. He looked determined to hide his angry humiliation at being bested by an enemy and to conceal the burning pain in his heart. Bright red blood oozed between his bronze fingers and flowed down his muscled chest. It was at that moment when Powchutu saw the white headband clasped tightly against the wound. Inexplicable chills ran over his entire body. In horror he watched the fluffy white feather become saturated with Gray Eagle’s blood. It would have been an evil sign if the headband had truly come from her brow. He was thankful that it had not…
To disguise his rising fear, Powchutu shouted, “Go to the Great Spirit if he will accept you! I return to my wife and child.”
Gray Eagle’s knees grew weak and gradually buckled beneath his weight. He slowly sank to the ground to a painful kneeling position. His ebony eyes burned with fury as he vowed, “Your bloods will join on my knife, scout. I swear to you and the Great Spirit Wakantanka. Wicasta wanzi tohni icu kte sni,” he nearly whispered as his strength swiftly waned, unable to make his claim in English.
Powchutu scoffed at his vain words. He countered with Gray Eagle’s same vow, “It is I who will allow no man to take her from me, not even the indomitable Gray Eagle himself. You can avenge no one, not even yourself! Mother Earth will drink your blood before this day has passed. Never will you set eyes upon Alisha again, not as long as I live and breathe; this I swear to you and the Great Spirit!”
Gray Eagle stunned Powchutu by not singing the death chant with his last energy and breath, as if he still believed that he would not die. “You not run too far for vengeance of Wanm,…” He fell forward and did not move or speak again.
Powchutu felt frozen to the spot where he stood. It was done; the mighty warrior was shot. Alisha was free; she was now his. Somehow this final victory did not taste as sweet as it should have. Some hidden place within his heart hungered to mourn the fall of this great warrior. In some other time, friendship could have been theirs. Never had Powchutu felt such respect for any man, nor such fear of one. He was tempted to sing the death chant for him, but quickly realized how absurd that action would be. He stared at the man lying upon the dying grasses. It was difficult to slay a great legend, then just calmly ride away and leave his noble body for the wolves. Yet, Powchutu could not force himself to go near him or to touch him.
Instead, he hurried to his horse. Without a single backward glance, he mounted up and rode back toward the place where Alisha was hidden, waiting for a husband who would never return.
Gray Eagle called upon every ounce of strength and courage which he possessed. If he passed out in this secluded area, he knew his chance for survival was slim. He desperately invoked the Great Spirit’s help and love. He was in top shape physically; his stamina was matchless. Yet, his life’s blood and energy were quickly flowing from his powerful body.
He painfully pushed himself from the green earth, staring down at the wet, crimson grass. He was losing too much blood too swiftly. He pressed his hand to the wound to staunch the heavy flow. His mind swirled dangerously. He vainly attempted to ignore the searing pain which made breathing difficult. Sweat beaded upon his face at his exertions.
For the first time in his life, Gray Eagle thought about death. It had always been some vague threat upon the distant horizon. Now, it was all too real. Surely the Great Spirit would not permit him to die in this humiliating fashion. He would force himself to live for the day when he could avenge himself upon that treacherous scout and his own traitorous wife.
His wife… why had Alisha done this terrible thing? How could he have been so wrong about her, so swayed by her lies and deceits? He had denied his pride many times in her favor. He had loved her and married her. Why had she betrayed him, a warrior noted for his prowess, the son of a chief? Her crimes were unforgivable! She would pay dearly for them.
Gray Eagle’s vision blurred and a ringing came to his ears. He summoned his waning strength to call for his loyal horse Chula. The mottled appaloosa instantly obeyed his beloved master. He came to stand over him, confused by his owner’s behavior. He lowered his head and sniffed at Gray Eagle’s body, sensing some danger.
Gray Eagle seized his dangling reins and hoarsely commanded Chula to help him up. The horse pulled back its head, accepting the weighty strain upon his bit. The exertion was too much for the weakened warrior. His knees trembled and gave way, sending Gray Eagle back to the hard ground with a wracking thud. He groaned in agony; once more his vision blackened for a moment.
His hands were red and sticky. The smell of blood filled Chula with tension. He pranced nervously. He realized something was terribly wrong with his master. He waited for another command.
“Help me, Wakantanka,” Gray Eagle prayed. “I cannot walk the Ghost Trail with my blood upon Powchutu’s hands. Grant me the strength to return to my camp. Wanmdi Hota calls upon you.”
As he fiercely struggled to retain his senses, he called upon thoughts of Alisha to infuse him with determination. The scout had spoken truthfully about many things. He was guilty of such evil deeds against her. But she had vowed love and forgiveness. He had trusted her. “Betr
ayal!” kept echoing within his groggy brain.
“I loved you as I have never loved another!” Gray Eagle thought he shouted but the words were a mere whisper. “I cannot allow you to dishonor me in this cruel way. You are my heart. I will slay you for tricking me. How dare you take another man into your body! You are mine. You will never bear his child!”
All this time Alisha had been plotting her escape and his own death! She had actually traded Wanmdi Hota for a miserable half-breed scout! What a cunning whore she had become. She had been so pure and fragile many months ago. Her love had become more important to him than his own life. She had cast a spell over him which he was powerless to break.
His heart raged at the thought of her with another man. He was Wanmdi Hota, son of Chief Running Wolf of the intrepid Sioux. How dare any woman, especially a white one, rob him of his life! He had been a fool to love her. He had been blinded by desire and love for her. How could she not love and desire him in return? How could she feign such fiery passion?
He stared at the bloody headband within his tight grasp. She had cunningly used his love and the identity of Shalee to carry out her revenge. “No, my beautiful wife, you will never enjoy freedom or your lover. I will kill you first.”
As he perilously hovered on the edge of death, the warrior spoke to Chula, instructing him to lie down upon the grass. With his last trace of strength, he pulled himself across the animal’s broad back and tied the reins around his wrists. He ordered Chula to rise, gritting his teeth as burning pains shot through his wounded body with each movement.
Once standing, he commanded, “Home, Chula…” These words were familiar to the great beast, and he slowly headed in the direction of the Oglala camp, a journey which would require two days’ riding at this snailish pace which prevented his master’s limp body from falling off.
Forbidden Ecstasy Page 3