Forbidden Ecstasy

by Janelle Taylor

  She could not deny that he would be good to her. But it was too soon to think of such things. The lacerations upon her tender heart were still fresh. But who could say what time would bring? She feared the facets of Powchutu which were so similar to Gray Eagle’s: his looks, his behavior, his personality. More so, she feared this might be the major attraction which he held for her. Powchutu was frequently like a mixture of both men: himself and Gray Eagle, and only the very best of Gray Eagle. This concerned her deeply, for she knew that in all fairness she could not use him as a substitute. Yet, he might not be willing to settle for a platonic relationship.

  Alisha unthinkingly rolled to her side, instantly moaning from the discomfort in her left shoulder. Both men were immediately on their feet and at her side, faces mirroring their love and concern.

  She surprised them when she smiled cheerfully and stated, “Just a little tender, that’s all. I didn’t mean to awaken you two.”

  Simultaneously they asked, “How do you feel this morning?”

  She laughed merrily, her eyes showing the first signs of renewed life since her accident. “I must admit I’ve had better days. Worse, too,” she added with a twinkle in her green eyes. “With all this attention, I just might stay ill for months.”

  Joe got the first question out, “Do you need anything? Flapjacks? Coffee? Potage?”

  She mischievously replied, “Hot tea and scones, please. Oh, yes, plenty of fresh butter too.”

  “The closest I can come to that is pandowdy and coffee. Will that suffice you, Miss Williams?” Joe teased her lightly, just as in their old days along the trail.

  She pouted her lips and sighed. “If I must, then I guess I must.” Afterwards, she giggled contentedly and replied, “Anything is fine, Joe. Surprise me.”

  “Coming right up,” he stated, giving her a low sweeping bow. They both laughed at his gay animation. It had always been easy for her to be natural, saucy, and playful with him.

  Fingers of jealousy clawed at Powchutu’s mind as he observed them. He reminded himself that these two were old and close friends. He chided his envy as he suddenly realized that Joe was surely in his late thirties or early forties, much too old for Alisha. No doubt theirs was a brotherly or fatherly relationship. Pleased with this new assessment of a would-be rival, he relaxed and joined in on their merriment.

  Both men were delighted to see how hard Alisha was trying to cope with her new situation and with her old set of troubles. Not once did anyone mention the miscarriage or the trappers. It was as if there was a silent agreement among them that those two topics were taboo.

  As Joe prepared their breakfast while humming cheerfully, Powchutu came over to check her more closely. Noticing the small bandage on his upper arm, Alisha cried out in alarm, “You’re hurt!”

  He chuckled to alleviate her concern. “Just a small scratch. Joe fixed it up for me. I don’t hurt easily, remember?” he proudly announced, puffing out his chest like a vain peacock.

  She laughed with him. Powchutu settled himself on the edge of the bunk and set in to relating his past tales of great courage and daring to entertain her. Joe observed the easy way they spoke together, revealing their closeness. Joe could read the admiration and trust in Alisha’s eyes from clear across the room. He couldn’t decide if he was jealous, suspicious, or pleased with their closeness. It didn’t take a smart man to surmise that Powchutu stood a better chance of winning her hand than a man who was almost twenty years older than she. Yet, many twenty-year-old girls married forty-year-old men… especially when they were still in top physical condition and were not bad to look upon, he admitted without conceit.

  They ate breakfast at the table which Powchutu had pulled over to the bed. Since she was still very weak, they did not linger over it very long. Afterwards, the two men went outside while Alisha tended to her private business. Joe had been thoughtful enough to slip the dress from the wagon onto her frail body while she was still unconscious. He had known how embarrassed she would be to find herself naked before two men, whether they were friends or not. He had been correct. Had she guessed about the medical treatments which she had received or her state of undress for most of the time, she would have been mortified. Alisha simply assumed that one of them had changed her dress sometime during her long illness. She refused to think about what had occurred while she was delirious.

  While she bathed and dressed, she silently prayed for the child which she had lost…

  The next two weeks were spent in concentrating upon getting stronger. Alisha did everything they gently ordered her to do. She received plenty of rest, extra sleep, constant attention, and delicious food. She gradually regained the weight she had lost due to her illness and their long, arduous travels. Her color and her mood steadily improved with time and rest.

  On warm days she would sit outside in the sunlight and watch the two men work on Joe’s traps and gear. Other days she would watch them chopping firewood for the long winter or salting down meat to hang in the narrow pantry inside the cabin. It was clear that Powchutu was adequately repaying Joe for his kindness.

  It did not take Alisha long to realize that one man remained at the cabin at all times with her. She was grateful for their protection and concern. Still, she was occasionally plagued with fears that Gray Eagle might soon discover her escape and come after her. Each day she prayed for more strength and courage, hoping she and Powchutu could soon be on their way to St. Louis again. She hated to leave the comfort and security of Joe’s cabin, but she wanted to get away from the forests and Indian territory. She wondered how Joe could stand being here all alone for the entire winter. But as much as she loved Joe as a dear friend, she could not force herself to agree to spend the coming winter here with him.

  At last she was able to help out in the small kitchen area of his cabin. She cooked for the two working men, then washed the dishes. Afterwards, they would both insist that she rest. They would not permit her to wash clothes or to do any heavy chores. Her easily fatigued body told her that she was still healing. Sometimes her weakness was greater than on other days. But all in all, she was getting better and stronger each passing day.

  She watched the weather as closely as Powchutu did. They would burst into shared laughter when they spotted each other doing the same thing, each knowing the reason for their mutual concern. If Joe noticed their preoccupation with the coming winter, he did not let on.

  At night they would sit around the table, eating and talking. Joe informed them of the news from back East which sluggishly came to him by way of travellers and trappers. Most of the news was old, yet still disheartening and frightening. Alisha feared that the war back East between England and the Colonies would interfere with her planned return to her homeland. How she dreamed of seeing the cliffs of Dover rising up before her as she sailed by them!

  One particular night the talk came around to the war. Carried away with his narrative, Joe innocently forgot that she was English. It wasn’t until much later that he recalled her parents had come to these Colonies only to be killed soon after their arrival in a carriage accident. Her uncle, being a peace-loving and intelligent man, had realized that war between his adopted country and his mother land would soon be inevitable. Thad had been one of the leaders for their tragic journey to the Dakota Territory, a land where he had hoped to find peace and safety.

  Joe leaned back in his home-built, wooden chair and began to talk. Alisha was all ears, wanting to learn if it would be possible for them to continue down the Missouri River to the mighty Mississippi. It was there where they could rent a flatboat to take them down to New Orleans—a town settled in 1718 by the French, but ceded to England back in 1763. It was rumored that New Orleans was now a rapidly growing seaport, one where ships to other countries could dock and trade. Alisha’s goal was to reach New Orleans first; then, return to England by ship. She focused her attention upon Joe’s ramblings.

  “For the life of me I can’t figure out why all these countries keep passing
around this area out here. First it belonged to the French, now to the Spanish. The smart thing for those Colonists to do is set their claim on it. Wouldn’t do to have your sometime enemies right at your back. One day those Colonists are going to heavily settle all of this area; you mark my words. This area is a gold mine; it has everything from wood and food to furs and gold. Could be mighty important in the future. ‘Sides, it’s beautiful and peaceful out here.”

  Alisha was the first to show her skepticism and anger, “Everyone keeps forgetting this land belongs to the Indians. It’s very clear to me they do not intend to give it up or even to sell it. How many more lives will it take for both sides to learn this truth?”

  “You’re partly right, Alisha,” Joe agreed. “But as sure as there’s a sunrise every morning, more and more will come here. I see it every few weeks now. People are tired of wars and poverty. It’s like having the stars within your reach and knowing they’re magic; this land is a dreamcome-true to them.”

  “I say it’s more like a bloody nightmare! Besides, wishing upon stars is for children. These are adults we’re talking about, supposedly intelligent people. To challenge the invincible Sioux for their territory shows anything but intelligence or courage,” she argued.

  “In a way, Alisha, they are like little children,” Joe commented in a softer tone. “They’re poor; they’re hounded by laws which are strict and unjust. They’re unhappy; they’re persecuted for their religious beliefs. They want freedom, Alisha; they want a new beginning. Even if it is wrong or dangerous to come here, they see hope and promise in this new land. Not too long ago, you could also see both sides of this battle,” he gently reminded her.

  Her eyes flew up to glare angrily at him. Her chin trembled with the force of controlling the flood of stinging words which she wanted to virulently shout at him. She waited until her heart stopped racing wildly and her breathing slowed to normal before she dared to speak.

  “That was before I knew how true my people’s words were. I was too naive and too stupid to accept their claims against the Indians. I just couldn’t believe that such horrors and brutalities existed. I couldn’t even comprehend such fierce hatred and unreasonable violence. After surviving it, I can vow it does exist; it exists in the hearts and minds of both sides.” Abruptly she declared, “I should have allowed them to kill him that day!” But her eyes belied her statement.

  Powchutu reached out to grasp her quivering hand. He gently squeezed it to comfort her. His voice tenderly implored, “Don’t do this to yourself, Alisha. It’s over now. You did what you had to do. You can’t blame yourself for man’s hatred and brutality.”

  “Can’t I?” she nearly screamed back at him. “In a way, I’m responsible for all of my people’s deaths. If I had not interfered with Gray Eagle’s beating that day, they would have killed him. He could not have led that massacre against our fortress after his escape; my people would still be alive. The same is true of the fort. If the soldiers had not raided his camp to free me, then he would not have attacked there and killed all of them. Then, I almost cost Brave Bear his life. If Gray Eagle could have proven I was not Shalee before he challenged Brave Bear for my hand in marriage, he could be dead now; I could be dead now. Look at the times I’ve placed your life in danger. Every one of those incidents revolved around me. If you hadn’t found me where he left me to die…don’t you see, Powchutu? It’s always me, or his hatred for me. How can anyone hate that much?”

  With tears streaming down her cheeks, she rushed outside for privacy and fresh air. Until then, she had been successful in keeping her emotions and thoughts under strict control. Once the anger, bitterness, and pain began to filter through the tiny cracks in her guard-wall, it lost its strength and stability; it finally gave way to a flood of uncontrollable tears.

  Joe halted Powchutu from going after her, “Leave her be for a while. Maybe it’s good for her to release some of that pent-up anger and bitterness. She’s been trying hard these past days. Let her get it out in the open and deal with it. Better here with us than later with strangers. She’s been through a lot, Powchutu, too much for a girl like her. I don’t see how she’s held up this long. Alisha’s stronger and wiser than she knows. It’ll be hard going for a while, but she’ll make it. I’d stake my life on it. Damn!” he abruptly swore under his breath. “I sure as hell wished I knew why he did those things to her. You might think I’m crazy, Powchutu, but you know what I think? It almost sounds like he loved her, but wouldn’t admit it even to himself, and surely not to anyone else. Could that be possible, Powchutu? Maybe it was his forbidden love for Alisha that he was trying to punish or to destroy, not her. For damn sure, it’s clear he was hell-bent on having her for some reason! A man don’t go to such lengths and dangers to recover his white slave and to keep her alive and well. Then, there’s this desertion matter. Just doesn’t sound like the great, fierce warrior to me,” Joe muttered in pensive thought. “Mighty strange to me…

  To conceal his guilt and alarm, Powchutu fired back in an icy tone, “Like him or not, I saw him do just that! He doesn’t need excuses for his actions. He’s a savage!” He snatched up his cup of coffee, spilling most of it onto the table.

  Joe got up and poured himself and Powchutu another cup of coffee, then sat down once more. Trying to find some other topic to discuss which would ease the tension in the small cabin, he seized upon their coming trip. “It’s a good thing you’re heading downriver toward Orleans. Few years back old Chief Pontiac of the Ottawa wiped out every British fort west of Fort Niagara, except for the one at Detroit. It wouldn’t do to go passing through his territory during the winter, not alone. Course those British have rebuilt at Cahokia, Kaskaskia, and Vincennes. One thing about heading south is better weather too. If you don’t care to spend the winter here or in St. Louis, there’s another settlement at Ste. Genevieve which is a few weeks further south; it’s about thirty years older than St. Louis, just not as populated. Mostly farmers and trappers in that area.”

  Powchutu joined in on his attempt to restore peace and to make light talk, “How far down the Mississippi is this Orleans?”

  Joe pondered his question for a few moments, then remarked, “I’d say about fifteen to twenty days’ travel by boat, if the river isn’t too rough or too icy. It would be best for Alisha if you waited until spring to head there. Travel is bad enough in good weather, but terrible during the dead of winter,” he warned.

  Before he could reply to Joe’s comments, Alisha opened the door and came inside. She was rubbing her bare arms to ward off the night chill. Without speaking, Joe got up and wrapped a light blanket around her shoulders to help warm her. She flashed him a warm smile of thanks, one with hints of apology and shame.

  He naturally returned it. “I’ve always found it best to clear out such feelings in the cold night air. Feeling better?” he solicitously inquired.

  “Much. I’m sorry, both of you. I didn’t mean to attack you like that. It was rude and shameful. I suppose I’m just tense. It isn’t easy to be a pampered patient.”

  “Yep!” Joe readily agreed. “Much easier to be the doctor, except when your patient’s very ill and much loved. It’s good to see some of that old spunk and energy returning. Means you’re getting better.” Laugh lines deepened around his eyes and mouth as he flashed her a wide, engaging grin.

  She joined his laughter. “Good news at last. Now, how about a cup of that horrid coffee to warm my freezing bones?”

  Joe eyed her merrily and retorted, “If I had tea, I bet you’d be wanting coffee. Women! Just can’t please ’em.”

  Alisha sat down at the table, hoping neither man would realize how much she was trembling from weakness. Yet, both alertly noticed this, but said nothing. Soon they were all settled back around the table, discussing the war. Alisha leaned forward and propped her elbows on the edge of the table, then lightly rested her chin upon her cupped hands.

  “What happened back East after we left there, Joe?”

  “Like
your uncle and the others feared, war soon broke out. In fact, right after we left Harrisburg in the spring of ’75, fighting began in the Massachusetts Colony. The way I heard it, some British general named Gage attacked their secret munitions supply at Concord. The Colonists sent a fellow called Nat Greene to do battle with him. Seems the Americans, as they’re now calling themselves, appointed George Washington as their commander of the American Army. It appears they’ll follow him anywhere and anytime. Lots of guts and stamina, they say.” He lifted his cup and took several swallows of coffee before continuing.

  “You said there was lots of fighting back there?” Powchutu injected during his break.

  “One trapper told me two Americans—Allen and Arnold, I believe—captured Fort Ticonderoga up Canada way. Course it’s only good for protecting their hind section or for granting those boys some claim to fame. It’s battles like that one which give other men the courage and daring for future battles. From the last reports I got, those British and Americans are mighty busy with this war.”

  “But that was last year, Joe. What’s the latest news? Surely they cannot continue to fight forever.” Alisha listened closely to Joe’s vivid recounts, praying she would not hear the names of any of her friends among them.

  “Some Colonist named Montgomery was killed up Canada way earlier this year. Heard tell of a series of battles back in June of last year around a place either called Breed’s Hill or Bunker Hill. Heard several different versions on it. Don’t rightly know who won, not with both sides claiming the victory. The British gained the major victory, but those Americans received the most encouragement from the showing they put on there. Guess it really don’t matter who won to all those boys who died there. That war’s gonna be costly afore it’s over.”