Forbidden Ecstasy

by Janelle Taylor

  She forced herself to smile faintly and thanked him, praying she would never have need for those dresses which Mrs. King had already made and those ones which she was still working on for her.

  She frequently halted during her chores that day to fervently pray, “Please, Joe, come soon. I cannot stand this hellish existence much longer. Soon his net will tighten and I will never break free again. March is already here. Please come in April as you promised. I cannot be his wife, not in any way…”

  Another heavy snowstorm struck a few days later, trapping them inside once more for days on end. Yet, the relationship between them slowly returned to its previous guarded terms. That atmosphere of waiting, watching, and civilly enduring encompassed them once more. Not once had Jeffery touched her in any savage manner since that dreadful night. He seemed overly kind and considerate. He laughed easily and freely conversed with her on many subjects. He complimented her talents and her efforts; he admired her beauty and her cordial conduct. He became his charming, witty, carefree self again.

  Yet, she refused to be disarmed by this polished, debonair manner which Jeffery reassumed. Suspicion and mistrust grew in her mind and heart with each passing day. To her, he was being too kind and pleasing. She could not accept his continual celibacy. There was a perceptive cruelty in his eyes and voice, a mysterious aura of wickedness in his manner; things which she had naively ignored in the past. Having viewed the full extent of his malevolence and evil, she could now recognize the subtle signs of them.

  Fear and caution urged her to walk lightly around him. She made every attempt to persuade him of her honest and complete efforts to be the perfect wife, while furtively awaiting Joe’s arrival.

  Within those next two weeks, Alisha experienced several unexpected and agonizing discoveries. The first one came when she walked over to Hiram’s general store one afternoon while Jeffery was downriver on business. There was a mild break in the changing seasons, and he quickly took advantage of it. Confident in her total submission to his wishes, he had not hesitated to leave for a few days.

  This particular day was crisp, clear, and promising. Light touches of fresh green colored the bare trees along her pleasant stroll. The sky was an endless carpet of blue, with not a single snow cloud in sight. The air smelled clean and invigorating. Dauntless early birds twittered joyously among the tall branches of the lofty evergreens. It was clear that spring was definitely in the making.

  Alisha’s heart thrilled and sang to the gay notes of rebirth and of future freedom. Except for an unusual snow flurry, the bitter winter was past. Each day and night the weather warmed and cleared. She eagerly looked forward to the coming of April and of Joe. As she walked along, she hummed cheerfully to herself. She even ignored the lagging guard tagging behind her. She was alive and full of hope.

  She chatted with Hiram after arriving in his store. As she leisurely studied nearly every item he had to sell, she came near to his office door. Before she could react, she found herself yanked inside, the door slammed shut and bolted. She stared at the daring face before her.

  “Mary, we really have nothing to say to each other,” she began, her breeding forcing her to be civil to this weird girl. “Jeffery will be furious with me if he learns of this meeting. I know I said I would teach you the piano; but under the present conditions, you know I cannot.”

  Mary firmly caught her forearm with both of her small hands and would not release her. She seemed determined to reveal something to the distressed Alisha. Unable to speak, she anxiously sought to find some way to communicate her distressing news. Her brown eyes darted, revealing her intense frustration and silent anguish.

  Seeking to end this unpleasant and dangerous interview, Alisha decided to assist her. “If you wish to apologize for what happened a few weeks ago, there is no need. Jeffery says we should not see each other, and I must accept his dictates.”

  Mary rapidly shook her head, saying no to her hasty conclusion. “You do not wish to apologize?” Alisha inquired in a shocked tone and stunned look. Before she could control her tongue, she stated, “If you feel your behavior was permissible that night, we certainly have nothing further to discuss! I have never been so humiliated and shocked in my entire life when I viewed that ghastly scene between you and those men. How could you behave like that? Two men at the same time! I thought you were a nice girl, but I could see I had grossly misjudged you,” Alisha uncontrollably aired her disillusions concerning the mute girl.

  The look on Mary’s face halted her next words. Her face had gone pale, then flushed a crimson red in humiliation. Momentarily it had blanched white in tormenting reality. She signalled to ask if Alisha had viewed this wicked sight. Embarrassed, Alisha only nodded yes. Mary covered her mouth; Alisha feared she was about to be sick, just as she herself had reacted that night. Mary was ashen; she was shaking violently.

  Alisha studied her for a few minutes. It was not the look of humiliation or guilt or modesty written upon her face; it was the humiliating look of shocking reality which was being heard for the first time. Alisha was totally baffled by now. If the girl was play-acting, she was doing an excellent job! If not, then what really was the truth of that night?

  Eventually she glanced up at Alisha, but could hardly meet her gaze. She used a combination of signing and mimicry to relate a horrifying tale to the startled Alisha. She nonverbally recounted how she had been drugged by Jeffery and handed over to those two men. She mimicked the effects of those two drugs. She signalled how the two men had taken her to Tommy’s room over the warehouse on the dock and had kept her there all night. She motioned her fuzziness about the events of that night. She looked mortified to learn of Alisha’s view of her own disgusting and uncontrollable behavior.

  “You’re saying Jeffery forced you to take some drugs which made you act like that?” Mary nodded yes. “But I’ve never heard of such a wicked potion, one which can make a person act like that!”

  Mary signalled the identity of Frenchy. “Frenchy has it? He gave it to Jeffery?” Mary nodded yes both times. “You don’t recall what happened after he drugged you?” Mary lowered her head in shame. She signed, a little. Alisha winced in sympathy.

  “Perhaps it’s best you don’t recall it. I’m sorry, Mary. I should have realized the extent of his evil and cruelty sooner. Even so, there is no way I can help you; I cannot even help myself,” she solemnly admitted. “Jeffery is too powerful. The only thing I can do is pray for help from a friend or for escape one day soon. I wish there was something I could say to ease the pain for you or some secret way I could be your friend. I fear Jeffery would only find out and punish both of us. Stay clear of him and his men, Mary. They’re very dangerous and wicked.”

  Mary signalled Powchutu’s identity. “You want to tell me something about Powchutu?” Mary nodded yes. Tears filled her eyes as she kept tapping her heart with her small fist. “You truly loved him?” Mary nodded yes over and over. “You two were…close?” She met Alisha’s steady gaze and nodded yes. Love, not guilt, filled her lucid eyes.

  Recalling how it had been between her and Gray Eagle, her own eyes filled with unbidden tears of loss. “I understand, Mary. Don’t be ashamed of having shared true love with him. You brought some happiness and love into his life. If anyone ever deserved it, he did. He suffered greatly for his mixed bloods. I don’t care what they say about his death; he wasn’t like that. He was kind and gentle; he was brave and unselfish. He was like my very own brother. God, how I miss him,” she painfully confessed.

  Mary seized her arm and shook it to get her attention. Her eyes were cold and angry. Adding to Alisha’s distress and fear, she signalled her suspicions of Jeffery’s part in that strange accident. “You think Jeffery had him murdered!”

  Mary nodded yes. She signalled his dislike of Celeste and Powchutu. She mimicked how she had come to their house to pick up a gift which Powchutu was supposed to have left for her. She had come to learn the dress had been purchased by Jeffery, not Paul. She struggled to
relate her other suspicions about the same day.

  “You think he drugged you that day, too? You think he…” Alisha shook her head to clear it of some of these repulsive ideas. “Don’t go near him again, Mary,” she warned once more.

  Mary sent waves of terror through her body and mind as she signed a warning to Alisha to be extra careful of what she drank and of what she said to him. “He wouldn’t dare drug me!” she declared, knowing he would indeed do just that if it suited him.

  “Listen to me carefully, Mary. We must both be on the lookout for his tricks. If he discovers I know the truth about him, there is no guessing what he might do to us. He wants me to think you are wanton. As for you, it must have been a warning as he claimed. He knows you cannot tell anyone, the vile bastard!” she angrily exploded.

  Before Alisha and Mary departed company that day, the entire truth was out. They were then joined in defensive secrecy; they were united in hatred against Jeffery Gordon. Somehow they would find a way to be free of his power. Alisha called Hiram into his office. She entreated him to secrecy concerning her private visit with Mary. Confused, but not enlightened, he agreed. The looks on both females’ faces told him they both feared that scoundrel Gordon, just as much as he did.

  Alisha was grateful Jeffery did not return for two more days. She desperately needed that time to adjust to these new, terrible revelations about her husband. Beyond a shadow of doubt, she believed Jeffery had something to do with Powchutu’s death. She searched the house for evidence of that “magic potion” which he had given to Mary. She fretted when she was unable to find it and get rid of it. She could only assume it was in that sealed room. Unable to jimmy the lock, she could not look inside.

  Alisha intensely searched her own muddled memory for clues to her own behavior that night. She could not accept the thought of behavior similar to Mary’s. She convinced herself he had only given her a sleeping potion. Evidently he had thought it a funny joke to strip her naked and to allow her some doubts about their mutual conduct that previous night. Thinking back, neither her sheets nor her body had bespoken any sexual contact between them. She wondered if he would dare such a revolting act upon her, knowing she would either leave him or kill herself before submitting to such a crude existence. He must have sensed her reaction, for he had backed away from his joke that morning.

  The depth of his evil permeated her senses. Yet, she also felt it was slanted toward the punishment of others… for the time being. He might be tempted to use such tricks upon her in the future. But for now, he wouldn’t risk losing his investment in her. It would require every fiber of her control to keep their pretense going. Yet, she was determined to leave him in the dark concerning her vast knowledge of him. It could be very dangerous for her if he learned about this new education of hers. Surely Joe would rescue her from this sadistic fiend. Suddenly recalling the peril of the wilds, she trembled at the thought of Joe’s death and her permanent entrapment by Jeffery.

  When Jeffery did return late one day, she faked a mild illness to cover her withdrawal and disgust. Knowing what symptoms to list, she even managed to fool the town doctor into deciding she had a throat infection. She listened as he spoke to her husband, “Nothing serious, Mr. Gordon. Slight fever…sore throat… little infection… I suggest she stay in bed for a few days. Get plenty of rest, fresh air, and hot soup. These things usually take care of themselves with a little care.” To Alisha, he reiterated his instructions and wished her a speedy recovery. “If you get to feeling worse or if your fever gets any higher, send for me. Otherwise, you should be fine in a week or so.”

  She smiled faintly and softly thanked him. She lay back against her pillows and closed her eyes. Jeffery showed the doctor to the door, then returned to her room. He seemed genuinely concerned about her health, a fact she had difficulty accepting.

  “You need anything, Alisha?” he inquired tenderly, then stroked her hot forehead she had surreptitiously warmed with a hot cloth.

  “Just some rest, Jeffery. I feel so weak and tired. I’m sorry to be such trouble,” she said disarmingly.

  “Don’t be silly. Illness isn’t something to be controlled. Tomorrow, I’ll ask Mrs. Webster to come in every day until you’re well again.”

  That idea sounded marvelous: with company, he would be on his best behavior. “That’s very kind and thoughtful of you. I shall take care to be well as quickly as possible.”

  His tone changed very noticeably as he inquired, “Any chance the doctor’s diagnosis is wrong?”

  She glanced up at him. “What do you mean? You think it might be something else, something serious?” she innocently inquired, praying he had not suspected her ruse.

  “No need to dally around the bushes, Alisha. Any chance you’re pregnant?” he unexpectedly asked.

  “Pregnant? How could I possibly be pregnant when we’ve never slept together? I might be naive, Jeffery, but not that much.” Suspicious lights suddenly filled her anxious gaze. “You did say we hadn’t made love, didn’t you? You said you refused me that night,” she nervously challenged his earlier denial. By accepting some of the blame for that night, she hoped for the truth.

  He grinned at her choice of words. “I was not referring to myself as the father. You were sleeping with another man a few months ago, not to mention travelling with one for weeks on end,” he lightly suggested a vile answer.

  Anger surfaced in her emerald eyes. “I have already told you over and over, I have never slept with Powchutu. Never! Not a single, solitary time! As for the possibility of carrying Gray Eagle’s child, there is none. If I was that far along, both the doctor and myself would know. Besides, I would be plumping by now. As you can see for yourself, I am not,” she noted, pressing the covers tightly across her abdomen to reveal her totally flat stomach. “Any more accusations, Mr. Gordon? If so, ask your guards if I entertain while you’re away!”

  “Sorry, love, but I had to ask. Sleep now. I’ll send for Mrs. Webster in the morning. She’ll take real good care of you. You need anything before bedtime?” When she nodded no, he leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to her warm brow. He assumed her rigidness and coldness were a result of his questioning.

  Alisha lay back against her pillows, unaware of another dreaded discovery in the making. She was not surprised to find that she was actually exhausted. She had not slept well in the past few nights. Her emotions had been in a turmoil. Her heart felt intense anguish for the hellish event which Jeffery had put Mary through. She wondered how he could be so cruel and evil.

  Thoughts of such a powerful, lusty drug terrified her. Somehow she must find his supply and destroy it. But how? That secret room was always locked, and he possessed the only key. Yet, she had to find that drug very soon!

  Then, there was the matter of Powchutu. The more she thought about his so-called accident, the more she became convinced of Jeffery’s evil hand in it. Too many things pointed to Jeffery’s guilt. She couldn’t help but believe Jeffery was also responsible for her poverty and for her hasty eviction from the Horne House. Carefully reviewing her life in St. Louis, each small action became a pre-designed piece of a large puzzle which was gradually falling into place to form a most disgusting and horrifying picture of Jeffery’s despotism.

  She closed her burning eyes and rested them. Her body felt heavy, numb, and weak. She wanted to sleep, but her rambling thoughts would not halt long enough for her to slip away into empty darkness. She wanted to release her pent-up frustrations, fears, and anguish by weeping for hours; yet, the. much needed tears of solace would not come. The tightness within her chest was oppressive, making her respiration slow and even.

  Jeffery peeked into her room. From all appearances, she was sleeping. He quietly closed her door and went downstairs. Her unforeseen illness couldn’t have come at a more opportune time for him. He grinned in relief and serenity. While she was safely confined to her sickbed, he could have all of the boxes packed and removed to the dock to be sent downriver to Henri.

>   He pulled the key chain from one of his smaller pockets and unlocked the door to his treasure room. He strolled inside to lovingly handle his bloody souvenirs. After lighting several lanterns, he examined the lengths of the braids on several scalps. He studied the colorful headdresses from varying tribes. He lifted a few of the necklaces and headbands to inspect their intricate, artistic designs. He was pleased by the variety in his collection which was to be sold back East and in the growing South; some unusual pieces might even be sent abroad. It was amazing how much some people would pay for the souvenir of a bloodthirsty savage! As for himself, he relished this formidable business which enabled him to strike down his foes while earning large amounts of money. The savages owed him much for maiming him for life!

  Jeffery checked the stacks of furs and hides which his men had stolen from trappers who were returning to civilization following their stay in the wilderness during the long winter. His band of cutthroats knew just where to hide and to attack unsuspecting trappers and traders. Their heavy fur coats and leather vests had also been stripped from their slain bodies. Such items would be packed away to be sold next winter to incoming trappers, beginning the evil cycle once more. Since Jeffery planned to leave this rigorous territory during the spring, Henri was taking over the storage of these valuable items.

  Slim, Tommy, and Jake had built wooden crates in which to pack these treasures for the trip downriver or for storage until needed. The furs and pelts had been carefully graded and separated into various stacks; they had been rolled and bound into neat bundles. The winter clothing which could be sold for higher prices next season was already packed into separate crates and marked to reveal their contents. The headdresses from slain chiefs and infamous warriors were cautiously laid out in another crate. Their value could be maintained only by preserving their vivid colors.

  The shields, breastplates, bows, arrows, knives, tommahawks, and lances had been gingerly packed in long and narrow crates with furs of lesser quality cushioning and protecting them. The number and identity of each item in such crates were listed on the outside in a prearranged code. The countless scalps—both male and female—had been tossed into a large crate together, then marked with the number enclosed. No thought or remorse had been given to the innumerable lives which had provided this horrible collection. And many more crates remained to be sealed and marked.