“We could talk and argue all day, but it changes nothing. Neither do tears or pleas. The best thing we can do is wait and see what he has in mind. Don’t call his bluff, Paul. Promise me you will avoid him. I will learn of his future intentions, if he has any…” There was a long, strained silence.
Then, Paul sighed heavily. “All right. But I will promise you something else, little sister, he’ll never hurt you again or I’ll kill him,” he earnestly pledged.
“Just be patient and be careful. Control that hot temper of yours,” she jested. “You’re the only family and friend I have left; I could not bear to lose you or to see you hurt.”
“I know, Little One. As hard as it’ll be, I will try to be good. Get some rest this afternoon, and I’ll see you at dinner.” He escorted her to her room and saw her safely inside before returning to his own room.
Finding his door locked, he raised his brow in momentary confusion. Then, he recalled Mary’s presence and this treacherous day’s events. He lightly tapped upon his door, hope draining from his towering frame as it slowly eased open.
He walked inside and went to stand before the cheery fire. For a long time he stared into the colorful flames. When he could no longer postpone the inevitable, he faced the pensive, silent girl behind him. He wondered how much of their conversation she had overheard. There was only one way to find out.
“You heard?” he probed in a serious, distressed tone.
Meeting his worried gaze, she mutely nodded yes. “I see,” he replied succinctly. He solemnly stated, “If you wish to betray my identity to the others, I couldn’t blame you one bit. You have just cause after what I did to you this morning. But Alisha does not deserve any more torment. No woman has suffered more than she has in the past two years. Her people were massacred and she was captured by a warrior. I don’t need to tell you about such an existence; I’m sure you’ve already heard about white squaws. Such a threat strikes terror into every white woman’s heart and soul. You’d think they would be more sympathetic and understanding to girls who have endured such a life and horror.”
His tone mellowed with memory. “I met Alisha when the soldiers from Fort Pierre raided his camp and rescued her. Some rescue! Those bloody soldiers treated her far worse than the Indians did! She had been beaten into unconsciousness shortly before her rescue, with a vicious whip, Mary. She was all bruised and bloody. She looked like a childish angel the first time I saw her. She was alone, afraid, and hurt. My heart went out to her that first minute. I sort of appointed myself as her guardian to protect her from all those lecherous men. As an ex-slave, she was considered a soiled dove. They hunted her and hounded her until she was afraid to leave her little room in the doctor’s quarters. I was the only one she could trust.”
Trying to select the words which might win him the most help, Powchutu went on. “That warrior who had first captured her came to the fort a few weeks after her arrival there. The brazen brave demanded we return her to him or he would wipe out the fort and everyone inside her walls! Do you know those cowardly soldiers tied her up and gave her back to him? You see, Mary, Alisha’s brave held her responsible for the destructive raid which had saved her. Plus, he wanted to humiliate those ‘brave’ soldiers who had dared to ride into his camp while he was out,” he scornfully snarled.
“During the ruckus of the massacre, I managed to escape the fort, dressed as an Indian. I made my way to his village and helped her to escape from him again. You know she isn’t my sister, but I love her as if she were. I want to protect her from further harm and see that she gets back to her land. She’s kind and gentle like you, Mary. She’s a real lady, the only one I’ve ever met. Most of all, she was the only person who dared to befriend me or to respect a half-breed scout,” he softly related his last clue to check her reaction.
He hoped and prayed with all his heart that he had not misjudged this sensitive, romantic girl. Powchutu told himself he risked lying to Mary only to protect Alisha…
“Will you keep these secrets, Mary? You know how whites feel about squaws and half-breeds…”
Mary walked over to his window and pointed outside. He came over and looked out. Seeing nothing, he curiously inquired, “What?”
She pointed to him, then toward Alisha’s room, then back toward the street. “Me and Alisha outside? What about it?”
She held her hand up high, then mimicked Jeffery’s stance. She made a fierce, angry expression and pointed outside again.
“You want to know about Jeffery? Why I stormed out of here that way?” She nodded yes, then sat down to listen.
“There’s not much to tell, except we’ve always been enemies. You might say we were military rivals. We had different ideas on how we should deal with the Indian problems. Plus the fact I have some Indian blood in me. Jeffery made it clear from the start he despised any and all Indians. We were always clashing over orders. He couldn’t stand for my advice to be taken over his, even if he was wrong. We fought and argued lots of times; it’s a miracle we’re both still alive. To Lieutenant Jeffery Gordon, I was about the lowest form of life around. He made certain everybody knew how he felt. He even went so far as to pressure the other men into treating me like he did. There’s no friendship or respect where we’re concerned. We could easily kill each other without a second thought,” he informed her.
Staring at him with wide, searching eyes, she motioned toward Alisha’s room. “Alisha?” Mary nodded.
Powchutu sighed heavily, wishing he did not have to include her in this explanation. “Jeffery led the raid on the Sioux camp where Alisha was imprisoned. There was one warrior there who was well-known for his prowess and for his daring raids on the whites and on other Indian camps. He was feared and awed by both sides. To be truthful, any man would gladly trade places with him!” he sneered enviously, instantly wishing he could retract his slip.
He hastily continued his tale, “Gordon and this notorious warrior crossed paths in battle many times. Trouble was that warrior always outsmarted him or made a complete fool of him. To defeat him became an obsession with Gordon. He dared any action which might prove victorious or challenging over that Indian. All he could think about was getting the scalp of the dauntless Wanmdi Hota. When I gave my report to General Galt about the meeting of the war council in the Blackfoot camp, he saw his one chance for successful revenge. He took his troops and raided Wanmdi Hota’s camp while the warriors were gone. I don’t have to explain how Wanmdi Hota took that slap in the face! He called on the entire war council to back him up in a raid on the white fort. With his reputation and power, he could dare anything, including a massacre at Fort Pierre.” Powchutu was very careful not to give away Gray Eagle’s name, fearing its horrifying effect upon Mary. Each time he spoke of him, he called him by his Oglala name.
“Wanmdi Hota was very cunning. He even talked his enemies into helping with that bloody raid with the promise it would wipe all white men out of that entire area. It did too! I never met a man as smart and crafty as he was. He cut off the fort’s supply route and prevented their hunting trips. It didn’t take long for the fort’s food, water, and weapons to run low. One morning he rode up to the gates with a huge band of warriors and braves. Would you believe what he wanted? He boldly demanded for Alisha to be bound and returned to him as payment for Gordon’s attack on his village! He promised not to attack the fort if they disgraced themselves by sacrificing her for their evil deed. Would you believe those cowards did as he commanded?”
His laughter was sarcastic and bitter as it filled the quiet room. “Trouble was he was tricking them. First he humiliated and terrified them; later, he let his warriors attack and destroy the entire fort. Gordon was one of those officers who insisted upon Alisha’s return to the Indians. Gordon had been after Alisha ever since her rescue. He acted as if she owed him her life for his help. When she refused his attentions, she became his enemy too, just like me. That’s how we became friends. We helped each other, comforted each other, and dreamed of freedom
together. Alisha is gentle and special. She has no family except me. She had no money… nothing. How could I allow Wanmdi Hota or Gordon to ever hurt her again? She was the only person who treated me like a man, like a person. She became my friend; she helped me and respected me. Never once did she ask for anything in return. I owe her a great deal, Mary.”
He walked over to the window and stared out at empty space. It was a short while before he continued his painful narrative. “I helped her to escape from the Sioux camp; afterwards, we headed here. I am trying to help her get back to her own kind. We only pretended to be related to prevent any trouble. I didn’t count on meeting up with Gordon here, or anywhere. He knows how much trouble and pain he could cause us if he reveals our secret. Without a doubt he still wants Alisha. In fact, he wants to pay us both back for what happened at Fort Pierre, just in different ways. I’m afraid he’ll use that secret knowledge to get her in his clutches. How I hate to imagine what he’ll do to either of us if she refuses him again! Worse, what he’ll do with her if she relents…” he muttered to himself in apprehension.
All of this unexpected news stormed into Mary’s confused mind. It was obvious that one of the men was lying and deceiving her. But which one, she wondered. It was extremely doubtful Paul would make up such an agonizing tale. Yet, Jeffery had not related any of these frightening facts to her. One truth settled in: Jeffery had lied to her about his feelings for Paul and Alisha. As tormenting as it was, Mary believed Paul was the one telling the whole truth. This conclusion led her to another one: Alisha and Paul were in great peril here.
Her tender heart went out to both Alisha and Paul, for both had suffered during the recent past. This new situation was adding up to form a tragic picture. She fretted over the implications of her naïve assistance to Jeffery. Paul was correct; Jeffery wanted Alisha, but for a much different reason than he had told her. Jeffery also hated Paul deeply and strongly. Hatred and revenge were powerful, deadly emotions which Mary feared.
She wondered how far Jeffery would go in order to gain his wishes, or how far Paul would go to thwart them. She shuddered as she came to realize that Jeffery might be as dangerous and as powerful as the many stories which she had overheard concerning him and his terrible deeds. Traitorous pain knifed at her heart as she viewed Jeffery’s deception and betrayal, all for the information and assistance which she could bring to him.
She went to Paul. She lovingly and sympathetically caressed his slumped shoulders which carried such a heavy burden. He slowly turned around and met her steady, lucid gaze. “You do understand, don’t you, Mary?” She nodded yes. “It’s the truth, Mary; I swear it on my life and honor.”
She smiled warmly and signalled her willing acceptance of his words. She pointed to herself, then lay her finger across her pink lips. He comprehended her signal for silence and secrecy. He grinned broadly, heightening his good looks. She flushed a rosy pink and timidly lowered her head. He gently grasped her chin, raised her head, and placed a brotherly peck upon her forehead. At a loss, Mary smiled and ran from his room.
She hurriedly returned to her assigned chores, knowing her uncle would soon return from his weekly hunting trip. He would be most angry if she were behind. Gaining new energy from Paul’s warmth and faith, she merrily and rapidly finished the remainder of her work. Afterwards, she went to her small, dingy room to ponder the discoveries of the day.
Several days went by without any new crises and without a much needed job for Powchutu. Whenever possible, Mary spent time with Powchutu, listening to his tales about his past adventures—and falling more deeply in love with him. She cautiously and cunningly avoided any contact with Jeffery. To Alisha, she was extra nice and helpful.
Seeing such great hunger for friendship and understanding in the mute girl, Powchutu granted her his attention and kindness in exchange for her silence and her assistance to his beloved Alisha. Knowing how Mary felt about him, he wisely withheld the truth about his real feelings for Alisha from her keen perception. He also made certain the atmosphere between them remained amicable and uncomplicated. If he did appear to be misleading her emotions, he deemed it necessary in order to protect his true love. Powchutu knew unrequited love or cruel rejection could lead to trouble. If his company appeased Mary, then so be it for the time being.
On Thursday morning, Alisha received a scented note from Jeffery. It was an invitation to join him downstairs for dinner on that very same evening at seven o’clock. She nervously paced her room as she fretted over his first move toward her since last Sunday. He had granted her until Monday week to make her final decision about their future. Knowing there was no safe way which she could continue to put him off, she reluctantly sent a return note of acceptance.
The tormenting part now was to explain to Powchutu why she had agreed to see Jeffery. Eventually she convinced him this was the only way to study him and to learn of his coming intentions. He fumed and ranted, but was forced to give in to her. She spent the remainder of that afternoon preparing herself for that coming confrontation.
Mary did all she could to assist her with her grooming, but she also seemed as upset with Alisha’s decision as Powchutu was. She could only reason that Mary also disliked and mistrusted Jeffery. Yet, Mary offered no explanation or advice, just cast worried glances in her direction.
In his state of turmoil, Mary persuaded Powchutu to have dinner in his room with her. He readily agreed, hoping she could keep his mind off of the circumstances and people below.
When the dinner and a moonlight stroll were over and Alisha was back in her own room, she admitted it had been a pleasant night: calm, refreshing, and entertaining. The conversation had been gay. Jeffery was indeed wellread, well-educated, and well-travelled. He was a witty, charming companion who possessed captivating savoirfaire. The dinner had been delicious. The dining room had been tranquil and their walk almost romantic.
To her surprise, the evening had passed swiftly and enjoyably once he had subtly and craftily relaxed her jumpy nerves and suspicions. She could not find fault with a single action or statement. That first moment when he had pulled out her chair to seat her at dinner, he had unexpectedly pleaded for a genuine truce and earnest attempt at compromise and friendship. Being on his most enchanting behavior, she soon found it impossible to resist his promise of a beautiful evening.
Returning to her room fairly early, Alisha thought it strange that Powchutu did not come to question her about her evening with his sworn enemy. Deciding he had rather not hear about such an annoying matter, she finished her nightly toilette and went to bed. She never guessed or suspected the reason why Powchutu could not come to her room that night.
Alisha carefully reviewed her evening with Jeffery. She shook her head as she chided herself for allowing him to disarm her. She had foolishly believed he had brightened his black soul. Jeffery hadn’t changed at all; she had. For a time, she had slipped back into the civilization which she had lost after leaving England and the East. In many ways Jeffery was a great deal like she had once been. But did she truly miss the elegant gowns, the social gatherings and fancy balls, the servants, the witty banter, the carriage rides, the huge-mansion, and everything else which her social rank and fortune had once given to her?
In all honesty, no. She would trade them all for a buffalo tepee, a doeskin dress, life on the open plains, rigorous chores, and her husband. No man could ever compare with Gray Eagle, especially not Jeffery Gordon!
Gray Eagle had taught her what it was to love, to be a woman, to be alive—really alive. How cruel fate was! It had given her the ultimate dream, only to brutally change it into a nightmare. How Alisha wished she could hate Gray Eagle as much as he had obviously hated her. Which was better, to have known him and lost him, or never to have known him at all? She honestly didn’t know…
In Powchutu’s highly agitated state, he had drunk too freely of the whiskey which Mary had stolen from her uncle’s guarded supply. For the second time in his life, he got utterly intoxicated.
He wanted to wipe out all visions of his Alisha with Jeffery, of his Alisha with Gray Eagle…
He was well into his cups before Jeffery and Alisha were halfway through their dinner. Reeling with dizziness and vexed with blurred vision, Mary had unbuttoned his flannel shirt to remove it and to help him into bed. She had hesitantly unbuckled his wide leather belt and unfastened his leather breeches. She slowly eased them down to his ankles, then followed them with his doeskin breechcloth. Knowing most men slept in the nude, she had done this before thinking.
As the straps gave way at her insistent tugging, her eyes instantly engulfed his slightly swollen manhood. Overwhelming desire inflamed her entire body. She gingerly pushed him down upon his bed, then pulled off his remaining garments. She eased off his high-topped moccasins and lay them beside the bed. She lifted his feet and placed them upon the lowered covers.
She inwardly knew she should leave his room immediately, but she could not force her feet to flee. She remembered their last union all too well. Her passionfilled gaze roamed over the full length of his muscular frame and his handsome features. He was a magnificent specimen of manhood, the best which she had viewed. His bronzed, firm physique demanded to be caressed and enjoyed. Desire controlled her, and she could not fight with its command.
She banked the fire for continued warmth. She lowered the lantern to give off only a soft golden glow. She removed her own garments and unbraided her auburn hair. She went to his side. Mary ran her trembling fingers through Paul’s tousled hair of midnight black. She slid the palms of her hands across the enticing expanse of his chest. They leisurely travelled lower and lower, gently kneading his warm flesh as they moved past his flat, taut belly. They came to rest near his now erect and protruding member which had been aroused by her provocative teasing. Her respiration was ragged and swift, revealing her uncontrollable hunger.
Forbidden Ecstasy Page 24