Forbidden Ecstasy

by Janelle Taylor

  She flushed again as enlightenment was shed on her naive mind. She had also experienced that same kind of frustrated anguish at being denied his love. She wondered if he had wanted her so much that he had suffered physically and mentally from White Arrow’s innocent intrusion. “Served him right for leading me on!”

  Joe could not control his mirthful laughter at her peeved expression. She beat upon his chest with her two, small fists. “That isn’t funny. How should I know such things?” she stormed at him, half in anger and half in embarrassment.

  “You do now. Remember that in the future. Men are hot-blooded creatures, Alisha. They have many secrets and peculiarities. Passion can often be an uncontrollable wildfire. Sex is hard enough to control with a woman you know, but nearly impossible with one you love and desire. Take a lesson from him, don’t ever lead any man on with kisses and promises of more to come if you don’t intend to finish what you both started. Men don’t take kindly to teasers. Desire is like a smoldering fire: with the fuel of encouragement, it can burst into flames. I can almost assure you that wasn’t any rejection from him. If anything, he suffered more than you.” Joe almost visibly winced, as he empathized with Gray Eagle at that unfortunate moment.

  “I still say it served him right for getting me all… Besides,” she hastily changed the subject, “you’re forgetting why I’m here. Gray Eagle pretended to be drugged so I could escape. He only wanted me out of the Blackfoot village so he could secretly dispose of me,” she accused, annoyed by Joe’s sympathy for Gray Eagle.

  “Or perhaps for privacy to settle all these secrets and problems between you two?” he boldly challenged.

  “You think just like he does!” she hotly charged. She had meant it as an insult, but Joe took it as a compliment. He grinned roguishly. Alisha continued, “You’re giving all the same arguments he did. But, he also told me he loved me and wanted me. Yet, he rode off for supplies and water and never came back. We were going to camp there for a week or so. Some honeymoon!” she snapped.

  “Are you certain he betrayed you? Absolutely positive, Alisha?”

  “I’ve already told you!” she shouted in rising irritation. “I waited for two grueling days without food and water. He never came back. He never sent anyone to get me.”

  “What if he had an accident, was injured?”

  “Damn you, Joe!” she nearly shrieked, her exasperation showing vividly in her flushed cheeks and stormy eyes. “Powchutu was at his village with White Arrow when he returned. He told them I was dead and buried, killed by some renegade braves. He played the grieving widower. He lied! He betrayed me! He left me to die! Why all these questions? It’s over! I have to forget him and what happened back there. What difference does it make if he did have justifiable motives? I still won’t die for his bloody love!”

  Joe wondered if it was truly over. If Gray Eagle had always refused to let her leave him, then would he do so now? If he discovered her survival, would he come after her? Could he possibly track her after all this time and distance? Everything hinged upon Powchutu’s honesty. If he had lied to Alisha, then why hadn’t Gray Eagle come after them? Powchutu wouldn’t hold a candle to Gray Eagle’s tracking skills, and determination. Knowing both men, Joe still could not determine the truth. Then, too, Alisha’s feelings and thoughts were colored by this unproven betrayal by her husband. It just didn’t make sense for him to ride off and leave her there. Pride and possessiveness should have prevented such an outrage. This curious, disturbing situation would certainly bear more thought and exploration…

  “You’re right, Alisha. I’m sorry I was so curious and persistent. It’s just that I’m so fond of you, and I worry about you. You’ve had it hard since you came here. I just don’t want to see you hurt again. We’ve been through a lot together. It’ll take some time for those old wounds to heal, but they will. I hope you’ll consider staying in St. Louis until spring. I’d sure like to see you again, just to be sure you’re all right.”

  “I can’t promise you that, Joe, but I will try. Powchutu is going to pretend to be my brother. So when you come looking for us, ask for Paul or Alisha Williams,” she informed him.

  She giggled at her own ingenuity and remarked, “I selected Paul just in case I forget and already have the ‘Pa’ out.”

  “Good choice,” he agreed, then chuckled.

  As she turned to complete her packing, he picked up the headband and dress. “What about these, Alisha?”

  “Keep them or burn them. If I’m to have a clean break from him, then it’s best to leave all reminders of our life together behind. The only thing I’ll carry with me are the scars on my back, and those I can’t leave behind, can I? When I leave here, it will be a total and last farewell.”

  “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll keep ‘em for a while. Might get married myself one day. Could make use of ’em,” he joked.

  “Those are Indian clothes, Joe. You told me such unions were doomed and forbidden, remember?” she gently reminded him.

  “So I did.” He smiled secretly and thoughtfully. She sighed in fake exasperation, then smiled cheerfully. She returned to her chore at hand.

  Joe carefully folded the dress with the headband inside, then put it away. “See you at supper,” he called over his right shoulder as he left the cabin and closed the door behind him.

  She watched him go, bewildered by his strange mood and secretive smile. “I pray you do find yourself a good and loving wife, Joe. She’ll be a very lucky woman to get you. If my heart were not elsewhere, I would take that protective position myself. God help us to both find happiness and love,” she fervently prayed.

  Mid-December finally arrived. They were packed and ready to leave Joe’s cabin to continue their ill-fated journey. Joe made certain they had plenty of food, weapons, blankets, some medicine, and information. Realizing their safety lay in convincing everyone they were white settlers who were returning home, Joe gave Powchutu a set of trapper’s buckskins and a red cotton shirt. He thanked Joe for his generosity and precaution.

  Not being one for long and sad farewells, Joe promptly said his goodbyes. He firmly shook the scout’s hand and reminded him to take good care of Alisha. He embraced Alisha, then wiped away her tears. They chatted for a few minutes before Powchutu said they needed to be on their way. They lovingly embraced once more.

  Joe placed Alisha in one end of the bark canoe, then stepped back to watch their departure. Powchutu leaped into the other end with light and graceful agility. Joe untied the line and gingerly tossed it to Powchutu. He shoved the canoe into the swiftly flowing current of the mighty Missouri River. He raised his arm and waved farewell to Alisha. She smiled and returned his gesture. She quickly gripped the sides of the canoe to steady herself.

  Joe’s gaze went to the other end of the canoe. The paddle rested across Powchutu’s lap and the sides of the canoe. He was sitting erect and proud, his profile to Joe. It was that precise moment when Joe recognized what had been gnawing at his subconscious mind: Powchutu favored Gray Eagle closely enough to be his brother! Joe stared in utter disbelief as this startling revelation settled in. He could not understand how he had failed to notice this astonishing resemblance before. It had been right before his eyes all the time: the same stance, that same fierce pride and arrogance, the similarity in looks and personality, and the same cunning and daring. From a distance, it was like viewing that indomitable warrior himself, dressed as a white man.

  Unable to call them back or to alter their plans, he could only shake his head in anger and frustration. He knew that Powchutu was a half-breed. He wondered if it was somehow possible those two men were related. He wondered if that was the reason why Gray Eagle had spared Powchutu’s life following the massacre at Fort Pierre. It seemed ironical to think perhaps neither man knew his enemy could be his half-brother. Thinking his ideas a little farfetched, Joe dismissed them.

  His concern focused on Alisha. He speculated on her knowledge of the fact which had just revealed itself to hi
m. He dreaded to think this similarity was the basis for her attraction and attachment to the scout: a substitute for Gray Eagle, one who loved and accepted her. No matter now, he decided, it would be spring before he could check out his rising suspicions.

  For ten days they travelled the snaking Missouri River. Wanting to arrive there as quickly as possible, they took turns resting and rowing. Of course Alisha’s shift was very short and less strenuous; it only prevented them from stopping or from drifting into the bank while Powchutu rested for a while. Their luck held out; there was no bad weather or trouble along the way.

  The day before their scheduled arrival in St. Louis, they halted to rest and to prepare themselves for their grand entry into civilization. Powchutu found a secluded alcove and beached their canoe. He rigged up a blind with several blankets so that Alisha could bathe and change clothes. She did not want to arrive dressed as an Indian, nor did he. Such attire would alert the people there to matters which they wanted kept secret.

  Before departing from Joe’s cabin, Alisha had washed her long, auburn tresses. She had also trimmed Powchutu’s hair to collar length. Dressed in white man’s clothing, he could easily pass for one. For anyone who might take a second glance, he would simply appear a ruggedly handsome man, perhaps of Spanish decent.

  When they were both bathed, rested, and dressed in the proper attire to make a good first impression, they headed for the last leg of their long journey. Powchutu paddled slowly, not wanting to overtire himself this close to their destination or in case of trouble. Their excitement and apprehension mounted with each passing mile that went by. They began to laugh and to chat with gay abandonment. Closer to the settlement, they began to meet other boats and canoes upon the large river.

  Powchutu was on guard for any signs of danger or suspicion. Without any further delay, they rowed into St. Louis and docked just before sundown. The man in charge of the shipping area told them where to find suitable lodgings and warm food. Thinking they were a white brother and sister travelling East together, he was polite and friendly.

  With Powchutu’s looks and command of the English language, he had no trouble passing everyone’s close inspection. He was quickly aware of the natural curiosity and harmless suspicions of the people in this busy settlement. Alisha was the one who drew the stares and interest: admiring ones from the men, and envious ones from several women. Seeing there was no competition from a brother, several men openly flirted with her. Possessive jealousy flared within Powchutu.

  She softly warned him to watch his reactions toward such things. “Remember, you’re my big brother. They’ll become suspicious if you behave like a jealous lover. Paul Williams, remember? I’ll tell Mr. Bigsley you came to search for me after our parents’ deaths. Like Joe said, tell him Joe helped you to find me and bring me back here. We’ll let them know we only plan to remain for the winter, then head toward New Orleans. Joe said it was best not to tell them about England. As agreed, we’ll say Uncle Thad died of a fever, so I wanted to return home with you. No one is to guess the truth. We must be careful, Po… Paul. We don’t want to go through the same thing as before.”

  He relaxed, smiled, and nodded. “Hard as it will be, Alisha, I’ll play the loving, but protective, big brother.”

  Music suddenly reached her ears. She halted and listened. “Christmas! It’s Christmas eve,” she squealed in surprise, childlike wonder flickering in her bright eyes.

  “Christmas… I’d completely forgotten in all the rush and tension. Can we go and listen to the music after we find a place to lodge?” she sweetly entreated.

  As they stood on the wharf listening to the muted music from the nearby settlement, an unforgettable and familiar voice spoke to her from behind. She whirled and faced him, staring at him as if he were a ghost. Words failed her as her mind was spinning in confusion and utter disbelief.

  Instinctively her startled gaze scanned the man’s entire appearance. He was immaculately dressed in expensive, well-cut, flattering clothes. His black boots reflected the sparkling river. His silky, blond hair was well-trimmed. His clean-shaven, lordly face wore a taunting, cynical leer. The arrogant glitter in his crystal blue eyes warned her of danger—and retribution. He patiently awaited her close scrutiny, savoring this unforeseen opportunity.

  “Jeffery? Jeffery Gordon?” She finally managed to control her shock and to get his name out.

  He made a low, mocking bow, then resumed his intrepid stance. “One and the same, Miss Williams. I must admit you certainly show up at the strangest places at the most unexpected times. This must be my lucky day,” he noted in a voice laced with venom. Licentious lights danced boldly in his eyes.

  Dread filled Alisha. “How did you escape from Fort Pierre? I thought everyone there had been killed.”

  “Suffice it to say that I found a way. Certainly not the same one either you or this bloody bastard used,” he snarled, referring to Powchutu for the first time. If he found it strange that they had just arrived there together after all this time, he did not let on. The fierce hatred and contempt which he had always felt toward Powchutu was as clear as a mountain stream. Alisha trembled visibly at the force of that hatred.

  After a pretty, young female came over to join them, Jeffery graciously introduced Alisha as an old and dear friend of his. In turn, Alisha politely introduced Powchutu as her older brother Paul Williams. Jeffery chuckled wickedly, then fused his eyes to her panicked ones in open challenge.

  Icy fingers of fear clawed at her racing heart. If he so chose, Jeffery could ruin everything for them by simply revealing who they were. He could maliciously alert everyone to their recent past, especially hers. Memories of her hellish past at Fort Pierre returned to terrify her. All Jeffery had to do was suggest that she was the cause of the fateful massacre of both her fortress and of Fort Pierre to inspire universal contempt and hatred of her. Fate had interfered with her freedom once more; she was stranded here just as she had once been there. All Jeffery had to say to these Indian haters was, “She’s the ex-captive of the notorious Gray Eagle. He destroyed two forts to get her back. This here scout is really a contemptible half-breed.” Those statements would be deadly and destructive for them.

  For once, where Lieutenant Jeffery Gordon was concerned, Powchutu wisely and cautiously held his tongue and his temper. Although he wished he could draw out his hunting knife and slit Jeffery’s throat, he knew that act was impossible right now before Alisha and the people on the wharf. For the time being, he would have to accept Jeffery’s insults and threats. Later…

  Jeffery flashed his companion Celeste an engaging grin, then sent the scout a warning glare before stating, “If you two don’t mind, I’d like to have a few words with Alisha, in private. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, and we have a few old matters to discuss,” he calmly announced in a deceptively mellow tone.

  Alisha was torn between the urge to flee as quickly as possible and the urge to humbly capitulate to this man who could easily dash her new-found freedom and pride. She could read the triumphant smile which lit up his handsome features, but glittered ominously in his cold blue eyes. Unable to control himself, Powchutu immediately protested this insult. He began stiffly, “Mr. Gordon, our trip was arduous—”

  Gordon cut him off and said imperiously, “Ah, but I have not seen Miss Williams for so long. Alisha?”

  Alisha warily weighed her choices, despising all of them. She knew how dangerous it was to cross Jeffery. She had learned that all too well in the past. She shifted uneasily beneath the stares of all three people. Her tone was low and resentful as she informed Powchutu of her decision to speak with Jeffery for a few minutes.

  As she was talking to Powchutu, a new plan was rapidly formulating in Jeffery’s mind. He discounted the surly, withering glare from Powchutu. He chuckled in open amusement, nearly bringing a physical reaction from the angry scout. Alisha gently clutched Powchutu’s arm and silently warned him to a truce. A baffled Celeste remained silent and watch
ful, wondering why these two seemed so intimidated by Jeffery; yet, knowing Jeffery as she did, she was positive there was some reason for them to fear and to obey him.

  With a quiver of uncertainty nagging at her troubled mind, Alisha permitted Jeffery to take her arm and to lead her to the end of the long deserted pier. Both remained silent for the entire walk. At the end of the dock, Jeffery halted and turned to face her. To her astonishment, his black scowl had been replaced by a pleased smirk. She shot him a look of suspicion and dread. His roguish grin broadened. Devilish lights played mischievously in his eyes. She waited with bated breath to learn of his intentions.

  His first question stunned her. “What the hell are you doing here with that blasted half-breed? These people would tear you both apart if they guessed who you are. Shall I tell them, Alisha, or shall I keep silent? Tell me something, is Gray Eagle with you, or will he be along later? Surely you didn’t cast him aside for that red bastard over there?” he taunted, nodding in Powchutu’s direction.

  Her quavering voice inquired, “What do you want from me, Jeffery?”

  Jeffery’s burst of harsh laughter chilled her very soul…

  Chapter Ten

  Alisha stared up into Jeffery’s truculent gaze, realizing that his near-brush with death had not changed him at all. As she faced her old enemy, her own eyes grew hard and cold. It was too easy to recall his past treatment of her, treatment which had been degrading and intimidating. Previously at Fort Pierre, it had not taken long for his satanic personality to overshadow his dashing, debonair facade. It angered her for him to have the gall and rudeness to address her in such a brash, crude manner. Yet, it also terrified her to comprehend that Jeffery possessed information that could destroy their lives. She wisely sought to temper her outrage with caution.

  “Your vision is still clouded with spite and animosity, Jeffery. If you recall, I did not elope with that infamous warrior; I was practically sacrificed to him in order to save the inhabitants of Fort Pierre! If memory serves me correctly, you were one of the officers who insisted upon my speedy return to him. You cannot hold me responsible for his cunning deceit; I did warn you not to accept his wily truce. As for Powchutu, you seem to forget we have always been friends. He was the only person at that fort who gave a fig about me, who didn’t try to take advantage of my precarious position, who didn’t judge me soiled for life, who didn’t try to make me feel unwanted and unworthy! As you well know, I cannot say such things about you,” she tersely stated.