“What if we cannot find them? How will you take their lives? They have disappeared.”
“The Great Spirit will guide me to them. He will not permit such dishonor to fall upon me without payment. No one will know this truth except the two of us. Let the others believe the story you have told to me. Swear silence to me.”
“What of your father?”
“No one will know of my shame until she has paid with her blood! No one!” Gray Eagle overexerted himself, and White Arrow gently forced him back to the mat.
“You will not tell her father that she lives?” White Arrow asked.
“She lives only as long as the Great Spirit allows it.”
“It will be as you say. A white enemy shot you as you tried to protect your wife, and she was captured. They will see you have recovered. They can only guess at her fate.”
For many days and nights as he had lain helpless and healing, visions of Alisha plagued his heart and mind. His body had signalled its need of her when he would awaken from dreams of her. He had raged at his wayward mind each time it called her memory to life to torment him. How he had wished he could forget her completely. He had prayed for the Great Spirit to remove this relentless love and desire for her; yet, it still burned brightly and fiercely within him, no matter how angrily and frequently he denied it.
That day had been many months ago. The winter had come and was nearly gone. Gray Eagle had gradually regained his former strength and power. But now that his people had seen him vulnerable, he had been forced to rebuild his reputation of unconquerable power.
Resenting the need to prove himself like a young brave would, Gray Eagle became relentless and deadly with his enemies. In battle he was without fear and ever escaped defeat. His skill, cunning, and valor were quickly reinstated in the minds of his own warriors, enemy warriors, and all whites within his reach.
Before the rebirth of Mother Earth in the spring, the legend and prowess of Wanmdi Hota was once again feared and revered throughout the area. Not a soul entered the Dakota Territory without hearing of his numerous coups and fearless power. He was persistent in his desire to drive the whites from Indian lands and to prevent the entrance of others. No man, Indian or white, dared to challenge him without losing his life. Soon, even his enemies dreaded to confront him. As the months passed, his legend grew larger than life. The stories called him invincible, inescapable, infallible, and potent beyond measure or belief.
No one reminded him of the half-breed daughter of Chief Black Cloud who had been his wife for one day before her tragic capture by the white man. They blamed his great love for her as the reason for his dulled senses which had resulted in his one and only defeat by an enemy. Each friend wished he could locate her and return her to his side; each enemy wished he could find her and return her body to him.
It was soon clear to those who knew and loved him that he was harder, colder, and sterner than before her disappearance. Their hearts bled for his loneliness and pain; they grieved over the harsh effects of her loss upon him. They prayed he would someday forget her and find another woman to take her place. Yet, having seen her, they knew she was impossible to replace…
Gray Eagle had refused to take another female, even for physical release. It was as if he could not bring himself to touch one in any way. Several times he had been tempted to brutally ravish some of the white female captives as substitute punishment, but he had found it impossible to be intimate with any of them. He had not even been tempted to seek solace with one of his own kind. Alisha had remained a mental obsession, a smoldering fire within his blood, a ravaging disease within his body.
Once in a brief moment of fatigue and weakness, he had inadvertently confessed to his friend, “Even after all she has done to me, White Arrow, she is the only woman my body craves. It still burns for her like a fire which will not be put out. I could easily make love to her as I cut out her traitorous heart! She torments me in the black of night when my senses sleep. At times I hear her voice in the waterfall or in the nightbird’s song. I can smell her sweetness in the flowers and wind. I can almost feel the softness of her skin against mine. I can close my eyes and she is there with me. My mind sees her smile, her hair inflamed by the sun, the green grass within her eyes. Yet, her heart is black and deadly. I shall kill her, White Arrow, for only then can I be free of her. Only when I feel and see her life drain from her body can I be truly free to live again.”
Gray Eagle recalled his last day with Alisha, all the words and lovemaking which they had shared. “Lies!” his brain thundered. Then, another conversation came to mind: his confrontation with Powchutu, that treacherous half-breed whose life he had spared that day Gray Eagle had ridden against Fort Pierre.
“Somehow, someday, the Great Spirit must see it in His way to allow-our paths to cross again,” Gray Eagle fervently prayed. “This great emptiness and lingering pain in my heart and life demand Alisha’s punishment. If only she did not remain so alive and green within my traitorous mind…”
He grinned in bitter amusement as he remembered how he had feigned ignorance of the scout’s words. In truth, he could speak better English than that half-white scout! Yes, he remembered every single word! For once, he had wished he could not understand their tongue; his secret had been his undoing, his tormenting defeat. Alisha and her lover had savagely used it against him that day.
Now, he faced a new treachery from the whites. How he wished they would remain within their own lands, at least the women and children. Each day which passed made it seem more and more necessary for him to secretly venture into the world of the white man and to seek out his old enemy “Yellow-hair” from the devastated fort not far away.
His white enemy had offered a large reward for his scalp and wanapin. Now, he was not only sought out by foolish white men, but also by reckless enemy warriors. Much of his energy was consumed by these countless, futile attempts upon his life. With his reputation, a man had to either be a fool or a desperate hunter.
Gordon had finally pushed too far. Gray Eagle now felt it essential to seek him out and to stay these attacks upon him. He was being forced to slay too many men in order to save his own life and to protect his own honor. The challenge had been delivered; he would now accept it. Besides, Gordon was an evil man who dealt in death; he had to be stopped for all time.
He and White Arrow headed off in the last known direction of Yellow-hair’s present location. They followed the instructions which had been drawn from the lips of his last two attackers. When they were within twenty miles of the most distant homestead from St. Louis, Gray Eagle and White Arrow made camp. They found a place which was unnoticeable from any nearby trails, a place which could not easily be found.
White Arrow watched as Gray Eagle changed himself into a white man. He took his sharp hunting knife and severed his raven black hair to collar length into the white man’s style. He changed into the deep blue linen shirt, the sienna-colored leather vest and pants, and the black boots which he had taken from one of the men who had tried to slay him.
He strapped on the leather belt with its highly carved knife sheath, but placed his own knife inside of it. He attached the other smaller sheath to the inside of his left calf. He picked up the firestick, the white man’s long rifle, and inserted it into the holder on the stolen saddle. He hung the powder pouch on the horn, just for appearances.
Pleased with Chula’s easy adjustment to this white man’s heavy saddle, he mounted up. Last of all, he placed the black hat on his head and cocked it forward to partially conceal his black eyes and bronzed skin. He glanced down at White Arrow and smiled in selfassurance. Going after his enemy—the one who had once stolen Alisha from his tepee—made him feel more alive and vital than he had felt in months.
He clasped White Arrow’s wrist and exchanged a knowing look with him. “If I have not returned in three days, return to our people.” That was all he needed to say of his possible defeat when surrounded by countless white enemies. “Farewell, my brother
and friend, may this not be our last.”
“May the Great Spirit guide your steps and return you safely to my side,” White Arrow declared warmly. He watched as Gray Eagle rode away to face whatever fortune or disaster the Great Spirit might send into his path.
Gray Eagle assumed an easy gait toward St. Louis. It was his plan to keep his presence there unnoticeable and short. He would seek out the house which had been described to him and he would confront his past foe. They would finally end this long and deadly rivalry between them.
As he travelled along, he pondered the fierce hatred of this particular white man toward him. It was a powerful, endless obsession for Yellow-hair. They had battled many times in the past. Yet, it was clear his hostility and obsession had increased or been refreshed at mid-winter. It was almost as if he was suddenly desperate to have his wanapin and scalp, as if his very life and happiness depended upon it.
Gordon had been in the business of buying and selling Indian jewelry, weapons, and scalps since the destruction of Fort Pierre. Yet, his overwhelming desire to increase his personal collection had become a relentless pursuit in what the white man called January. Gray Eagle had heard that Gordon paid extra for “treasures,” the belongings of chiefs and their sons. It had also been a known fact that Gordon would pay an even higher bounty for Gray Eagle’s hair and jewelry. Yet, that higher reward had suddenly increased sharply to a stunning amount, an amount which the average white man considered a fortune. The reason for Gordon’s sudden demand for his life escaped his keen mind. Fame, rivalry, and hatred were reasonable yearnings; but this present vengeful desire…
It was past nightfall before Gray Eagle reached the outskirts of the large white settlement. He halted to study his surroundings and to select his direction of arrival. He then headed toward the tall, white house on the near horizon. Just as he had been told, it was set away from the main settlement. He cautiously weaved his path through the edge of the forest, stopping in a heavy clump of trees and bushes.
He dismounted and dropped Chula’s reins. Knowing how intelligent Chula was, he could find his way back to White Arrow if he failed to return or if someone else attempted to capture him. The disguised warrior lovingly patted the animal’s nose and signalled him to silence. The massive beast obeyed his master.
Gray Eagle’s alert, keen senses scanned the area around him and around the house. From all sights and sounds, the house appeared deserted this night. He cautiously made his way to it. Window by window, he checked out the interior. He smiled in open satisfaction, for he had sighted no one except his former enemy.
If there was anyone else in the darkened house, it would mean they were upstairs and hopefully asleep. He eased over to the nearest window, his intention to silently slip into the house and to suddenly confront Yellow-hair.
A much different idea came to mind…
Chapter Nineteen
Jeffery had his full attention and concentration upon the ledgers spread out before him. Pleasure filled his thoughts at seeing he was becoming wealthier by the day, even out here in this godforsaken wilderness. He could hardly wait for the war with England to be over so he could return home to his plantation in the Virginia Colony. He had no doubts whatsoever that the Colonies would win this-little fray.
He was glad to have this quiet evening alone to work upon his books; it would soon be time to close out his business here. This dance for his workers had been a brainstorm. It would only encourage them to work harder and faster for him. He assumed they would all be reeling drunk by now. It would serve his purpose very well, for they would get rid of some of their abundant energy before the demanding chores began. How could they argue with a kind, generous master like he was? He had earned their obedience and loyalty.
As his thoughts wandered, Jeffery considered the girl upstairs. A malicious sneer crossed his once-handsome features, now marred with resentment and hatred. He settled back in his comfortable desk chair and sighed with pleasure.
He had naturally succeeded in forcing her to marry him. He could now admit that his greatest desire was to break her strong will. He was making progress with her, but he had not as yet won her total defeat… nor her loyalty and affection. He wanted and demanded all of these things from her. In the end, he would have them, too.
After his cunning disposal of her self-appointed guardian and constant companion, it had not required long for her to comprehend her vulnerable position. She feared the exposure of her past life as the captive and ex-whore of Gray Eagle. And now she feared a repetition of her past existence at Fort Pierre. Those fears had convinced her to obey his dictates. Too, his foresight to steal all of her money had left her penniless. Compared to a life of enforced whoredom, his proposal of marriage had seemed a blessing.
She had never known he could not consummate their marriage or share a normal sexual relationship. She did not know his reason for his ultimatum for marriage to her. In her defenseless position, she had been the perfect target for his plans. With an intelligent and well-bred female like her as his wife, he could return home with his manly pride intact. No one would ever learn of his humiliating impotency.
Once back in Virginia, he would one day find an acceptable man to breed her with to produce a proper heir to his name and his family fortune. Of course, the man would be killed as soon as she became pregnant. All of his plans for his privacy and comfort had been carefully considered. To have Alisha Williams at his mercy was an added benefit.
Alisha Williams… she obviously feared his power and his threats; yet, she still remained resentful and ungrateful. Did she really think she had him fooled with that passive, sugary pretense of hers? The thing to decide was her motive behind it. Was it based upon defensive fear? Had she finally capitulated to him out of fatigue?
Was she up to some deceit? She was definitely trying very hard to please him and to feign affection. Yet, he could read defiance and repulsion beneath her sweet facade.
He mumbled to himself, “No doubt the necklace and scalp of your past lover will bring some noted change in you. But what change, my lovely wife? Gratitude and pleasure? Or perhaps sadness and a final break from his damned power over you? Do you think I am a blind fool, my dear? You have never forgotten him. I do not know why you escaped from him. Surely not for the love of that damn scout. No matter why, he will also be out of your life forever, very soon…” he muttered bitterly, unaware of the man who was silently easing up to the window behind him.
His soldierly instincts dulled, Jeffery was not aware of the danger which was rapidly overtaking him. The study had become rather warm and stuffy. Jeffery turned around in his chair and went to the tall window behind him. He slowly pushed it up to catch the cool, evening breeze and to clear his groggy mind. After inhaling deeply several times, he went to his bar to fetch a brandy. He returned to his desk. A movement to his left caught his attention. He glanced back toward the open window.
“What the hell!” he sharply exploded in surprise and anger. Accustomed to respect and obedience, Jeffery was not immediately afraid or even aware of his position. Far worse, he had not as yet recognized the disguised man before him. “Who are you? What do you want here?” he arrogantly demanded of this bold intruder.
The ruggedly handsome, bronze-skinned man leaned his tall, muscular frame against the wall. A masterful, confident expression was written across his face. He seemed totally relaxed and utterly fearless. His cool stare and continued silence unnerved his unsteady opponent.
“Either state your business, or get the hell out of my house!” Jeffery exploded with anger and apprehension.
Jeffery did not like to be bested, as he had been just now. He was acutely aware of his lack of protection, a fact which added to his rising tension. Never before had he realized that a coward slept deep within him. He cursed his foolishness at being caught unprotected and alone. He was a wealthy man with many enemies. Yet, he had foolishly permitted every one of his men to attend that damn barn dance!
He promptly assume
d this mysterious man to be a robber. Since criminals were supposed to honor each other, he calmly informed this man of his identity and powerful connections. There was no reaction from him. He then attempted to strike a deal with him. The other man arrogantly ignored his offer of money.
Gradually an amusing idea occured to the intimidating Gray Eagle as he witnessed the fear and vileness in his sworn enemy. He decided to play with him for a while. Dressed as a white man and far from the Dakota Territory, Jeffery never once imagined the identity of this aggressive man.
“It’s late! If you don’t want money, then what do you want from me? I have told you of my connection with Frenchy. If you harm me, you will answer to him and his men,” he boldly warned, strained lines of fear tracing his tight features.
Gray Eagle concealed his humor and pleasure behind a placid expression. “Never heard of this Frenchy. But I did hear you buy Injun scalps and jewelry,” he replied with the words which he had practiced time and time again before his arrival. “Got one they say is real valuable,” he teased the reprehensible man before him. “Want to buy it?”
Disarmed by what he now considered to be a rude outlaw, his smug air quickly returned. “Is that a fact?” he sneered, wondering who this defiant man was, wondering why he would dare to show his face at this time of night. “Just who says I buy such stuff?”
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