Tender savage

by Conn, Phoebe

  Erica looked away, thinking the afternoon one of the loveliest she had seen since coming to New Ulm. But it had also proven to be one of the most uncomfortable. "Yes, I've kissed him," she finally admitted, but didn't add that she had lost count of how many times.

  "Then kiss me." The Indian did not wait for the slender blonde to argue, he merely slipped his arms around her tiny waist, and pulling her close, lowered his mouth to hers.

  Taken by surprise, Erica couldn't decide what to do with her hands. First she placed them on the man's smooth bronze chest, then upon his shoulders, then, as his lips continued to caress hers with a heartbreaking tenderness she had never dreamed he would jx)ssess, she wound her arms around his neck and lost herself in the magic of his affection. When he drew away slightly, she deftly lured his mouth to return to her.

  The Indian had kissed women, but never one who put such passion into it. But after his initial surprise, he enjoyed Erica's affection too much to complain that she lacked the modesty of an Indian maiden. He thought only that it was a great pity she did not want to make love, and tightened his embrace.

  As the handsome Indian's kiss grew more fervent, Erica felt its searing heat burn all the way down to her toes and suddenly realized that, unlike Mark, he would have absolutely no reason to control his passicMis to protect her. She would never have to beg this man to make love to her. All she need do was continue to return his kisses with equal ardor and he would just do it. Shocked to think that should she lead him any further there would be no way to stop him except with the satisfaction of total surrender, she hastily disengaged herself from his arms and stepped back.

  "You better go," she stated as firmly as her shaking knees would allow.

  "I will come back soon," the Indian promised hoarsely, praying it would not take too many visits to convince her to share his blankets.

  Erica didn't understand what had come over her, but knew she shouldn't encourage the Indian to think they would ever share more than that one nearly endless kiss. "No, I think you better stay closer to home." Mark's letter was now so thoroughly wrinkled she used both hands to try and smooth it out. "Please just go home and stay there."

  The blue-eyed woman had said something far different with her kiss, and the Indian chose to believe her unspoken words rather than her softly voiced lies. Untying his necklace, he removed one of the wicked-looking claws. "Keep this, to remember me." When Erica

  seemed reluctant to accept it, he reached for her hand, placed it in her palm, and folded her fingers over it. "It will bring you good luck," he promised. He then drajjed the gruesome necklace back around his neck andretied the ends of the thong. Drawing his knife, he sliced off the end of one of the startled blonde's long curls before she could gasp a refusal. He laughed at her stricken expression as he replaced his knife in its sheath. "Did you mink I would give you a claw for luck and then slit your throat?"

  "Well no, but you might have warned me what it was you meant to do before you drew your knife." Erica watched him wrap the curl around his index finger and thought his hands as handsome as the rest of hmi. He definitely had the looks of a fine gentleman, even if not the manners. "Before you go, won't you please tell me what I should call you if Viper isn't correct?"

  "Call me Beloved and I will answer." With a teasing wink, the brave bent down to kiss her slightly swollen lips lightly, then sprinted away so quickly he was immediately lost in the thick foliage that bordered the path.

  Erica looked down at the claw and the letter, thinking the men the tokens represented were as different as two men could possibly be. But she couldn't deny that the warmth of their kisses filled her with the same indescribable longing for the fulfillment she had never known. TTiinking that surely it couldn't be possible for the kiss of a savage to affect her as strongly as Mark's always had, she discounted the heady effect he had had upon her senses as the sorry result of loneliness rather than something far more unique. She would keep the daw, though, as it would lend credence to what she was sure would be the most amusing tale she would have to relate when she again saw her friends in Wilmington.

  The piercing whistle of an approaching steamboat reminded her she had been away from home much too long, and she turned back toward the path into town. Before she had taken a single step, however, she saw her cousin, Gunter, standing not twenty feet away. He was looking at her with an expression of such agonized disbelief that she feared he had seen more than she could ever successfully explain away.

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  Gunter had dropped his sack of wood scraps and bolted before she could reach him and Erica could do no more dian pray he had been so mortified by what he had seen he would not rush straight home to tell his mother. She had only just gotten to know her Aunt Britta, and out of regard for her own dear mother's memory she did not want the woman to think the worst of her niece.

  As Erica hurried toward home, lugging the sack her cousin had left behind, she began to worry Gunter might have gone to his father instead. Her Uncle Karl had advised her only that morning to avoid the Indian, so undoubtedly he would be infuriated to learn she had been seen kissing the man in the afternoon. On the other hand, she was probably exceedingly lucky it had been Gunter who had seen her in the savage's arms rather than someone else.

  She slipped her hand into her pocket to touch the cougar claw and thought that, despite the owner's promise, it most certainly had not brought her good luck. Knowing it might be wise to hurl it out into the river, she nevertheless kept it clutched tightly in her hand until she reached her aunt and uncle's home. She tossed Gunter's sack by the porch steps and entered through the back door.

  Britta was seated at the kitchen table and looked up from the apples she was peeling to greet her niece. "It is such a lovely day. I wish I had chosen to work in my garden or to

  go for a walk with you rather than to bake a pie. Why don't you brew us some tea and sit with me a while?"

  Erica was relieved to discover she had beaten Gunter home, but if he had gone to the store to fetch his father, then she was in serious trouble indeed. She knew there was an outside chance her aunt might be sympathetic to her

  Clight, but her uncle surely wouldn't be. She washed her ands and put the kettle on to boil before taking the chair opposite Britta. She thought it might be wise to tell her what had happened before Karl rushed in to accuse her of carrying on with Indians, but her aunt spoke before Erica could summon the courage to make such an outlandish confession.

  "I'm sorry you don't like Ernst as much as we do, dear. Is it only that you have no wish to become a farmer's wife, or has another man already stolen your heart?"

  It seemed far too late to mention Mark was her fiance, so Erica left his letter in her pocket and answered only the first part of her aunt's question. "It's not that I don't like Mr. Schramberger. The problem is I don't like him in the way he likes me. New Ulm is a nice town and I've found the people friendly here, but I won't deny how anxious I am to return to Wilmington."

  "If only so many of our young men hadn't joined the army, I'm sure you would have found one who could have changed your mind about staying here. I know it is partly selfish of me to want you to live here with us, but you know you'll always be welcome in our home."

  "Thank you." Startled by its piercing sound. Erica leaf)ed to her feet with the tea kettle's first shrill whistle. She got out the china teapot, filled it with boiling water, then put in some tea leaves to steep while she took the cups and saucers from the cupboard. She knew honesty was a highly esteemed virtue, and deservedly so, but she couldn't bring herself to confide in her aunt. How could she explain any of her encounters with the Indian in rational terms when clearly the whole episode had been totally irrational? She would sound daft if she said she had been reading a letter from her fiance, whom she had not bothered to mention, and had been so startled by the sight of a handsome Indian brave playing naked in the river that she had dropped it. That much was damaging enough,<
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  but to have had conversations with the Indian on three more occasions would very likely brand her as a harlot, if not simply mad.

  Her mind made up, she served her aunt tea and decided in this case, honesty was the last thing she needed. She turned the conversation to the fabrics that had been ordered for sale in the fall while she waited anxiously for Gunter to appear. When he finally did come home, he was alone and he did not even glance her way before he dashed upstairs to his room.

  Britta apologized for her bashful son's antisocial behavior, "I hope you 11 forgive Gunter. I'm afraid he's more than a little smitten with you. It is a shame he is not the elder, for you two would make a very handsome pair."

  While it was not uncommon for first cousins to marry. Erica could not imagine herself falling in love with Gunter regardless of his age. "I think he is very sweet, but you're right, there's a vast difference between a boy of sixteen and a girl of seventeen. I am a woman, and he is still a youth."

  "I think Eva's death forced you to grow up a bit too fast, Erica. It's no wonder you're not anxious to marry when you had to take over so many of your dear mother's duties while you were still so young. I'm surprised we've not heard nrom your father. I thought he would write to you long before this."

  "I know the army needed physicians very badly. I'm sure Dad's just been too busy to write." Since her Uncle Karl had not come home with Gunter, Erica assumed the boy hadn't told his father what he had seen and immediately seized upon the idea of relying upon his affertion for her to insure his continued silence. "Speaking of letters," she said as she carried the now cold teapot back to the stove, "there are several I have neglected to write. If you don't need any help with the cooking, I think I'll go and write a few now."

  "No, I'm fine. You go write your letters, dear."

  Erica gave her aunt a kiss upon the cheek, then left the room at a sedate pace she had to force herself to set. She climbed the stairs as though she had not a care in the world, but rather than stopping at her room, she went on up to the attic to see Gunter. He was sprawled across his

  bed, his face turned to the wall, and she took the precaution of closing his door so their conversation would not be overheard.

  "Gunter, I know what you saw shocked you rather badly, but I wish you hadn't left before I could explain."

  "Go away," the distraught youth responded, his voice muffled by his feather pillow.

  Since she couldn't allow him to sulk until his parents became suspicious as to the cause of his downcast mood. Erica moved closer to his bed and continued. "I know full well that respectable young women do not kiss Indian braves. I suppose they do not even know such men. I chanced to meet that fellow in the woods. He helped me to find something I'd lost and asked me to kiss him as a reward. I should have refused. I know that, but since I'll never see him again I plan to forget about that scene you witnessed this afternoon, and I hope you will, too."

  Gunter was both embarrassed and ashamed. He was also appalled that he had run off like some witless child rather than ask his beautiful cousin just what the hell she was doing when he had seen her in an Indian's arms. Turning to face her, he sat up and hoped he would sound more like a man now. "If you had lost something, why didn't you ask me to help you find it?"

  Since she had not even considered that possibility. Erica swiftly apologized. "That is precisely what I should have •done, Gunter. I'm very sorry that I didn't do it, too. It's just that I'm used to walking down by the Brandy wine Creek near my home where everyone goes for an afternoon stroll. I will try harder to remember this is the edge of the frontier and I shouldn't go wandering about alone."

  Gunter's mother had underestimated her son's devotion to Erica. He was not merely smitten with her, he adored her. "I did not want to believe you preferred red men to white," he admitted shyly.

  The Indian had been a handsome devil and his kiss a delight, but Erica was not about to reveal to Gunter that she had found scant difference between him and Mark. Instead, she smiled warmly at Gunter and assured him he need have no such worries. "This must remain our secret, Gunter, you understand that, don't you? Why the gossip about me would never cease if you told anyone what you

  saw. You haven't told anyone, have you?"

  "Oh nol" the astonished youth exclaimed. "I will never tell that story. I swear it."

  "Good. I brought your sack of wood home. Don't forget you promised to carve me a cougar," Erica reminded him as she moved toward the door.

  "No, I promised merely to try," Gunter called out, his spirits soaring now that he had learned she and the Indian weren't lovers, no matter what his eyes had told him.

  "All right, you promised to try." Erica gave him a charming smile as she left his room, but she did not draw a deep breath until she had locked her door behind her. She sat down at her desk and reread Mark's letter several times, still hoping to discover some hidden admission that he regretted not marrying her. Since there was no such message she soon found her mind wandering to thoughts of the Indian. She took his claw from her podcet, and after tying it upon a red ribbon to make it look less fearsome, she hid it in the bottom of her stationery box. She then attempted to comp)ose a coherent reply to Mark, but she found the dashing Indian brave's stirring kiss surprisingly difficult to forget.

  An amused smile played across the Indian's lips as he began the trek home. That he had taken a lock ot Erica's pale blond hair would provide proof for his friends that he had kissed her. As he followed the river upstream, he rehearsed increasingly lurid versions of the tale, beginning with the instant he had discovered her spying upon him and ending with their kiss.

  He had gotten so late a start, when darkness fell he was forced again to make camp for the night. His dreams were filled with the sad sweetness of Erica's parting smile, and he awoke with her image still fresh in his mind. By the time he arrived home the next morning, he found for soine curious reason that while he had an intriguing romantic adventure to relate, he had no desire to share it. It wasn't like him to be so close-mouthed about his travels, but he described only the number of fish he had caught and how few animals he had seen, and his friends did not guess he had begun keeping secrets from them.

  Two Elk scxjwled angrily as Viper sjDoke. "We no longer have good lands for hunting. The white men have taken them all. Now we must wait for them to give us money and food or we will starve. The trader Myrick will give us no more credit at his store. He says we can eat grass while he grows fat on the money we have paid him!"

  "Were the annuity goods distributed or the gold we're owed paid while I was gone?" Viper asked with a skeptically raised brow. That question was met with bitterly voiced obscenities from his friends. He liked no better than they that the once proud San tee Sioux now had to depend for their livelihood upon the very white men who had stolen their land through unfair treaties. "I thought not. What news is there of the war?"

  Two Elk lowered his voice and the small crowd that had surrounded Viper upon his return drew closer still. "When the Union Army is coming here to ask us to fight, it is plain the South is beating them badly."

  "A promise of a full belly is not enough to make me want to fight for them," a young man called Growling Bear sneered.

  "If the North loses the war, then we will never see our moneyl" Two Elk complained bitterly.

  Squatting down in the dirt, the friends all wore similar expressions of disgust. Finally Hunted Stag spoke. "If the South wins, will they come here to make slaves of us?"

  Viper laughed out loud at that question. "Not when they see what poor farmers we arel"

  "You should not laugh!" Growling Bear scolded. "We have been shoved onto land where we cannot survive on our own. If the South wins, then even that may be taken from us!"

  Taken aback by that warning. Viper's mood grew just as dark. "All right then, the choice is clear. We can join the Union Army and fight for a government which breaks all its promises and leaves us to starve, or we can wait and fight the South for the right to surviv
e on whatever lands we choose!"

  The air thick with tension. Two Elk offered still another opinion. "With so many white men gone from Minnesota to fight the war, we could drive out the rest if we struck now! Why have we no leader with the courage to do so?"

  "This is the kind of talk we should do elsewhere," Viper warned as he rose to his feet. Like mamy men of his tribe, he was slightly over six feet in height and stood proudly. That a discussion of his travels had swifdy become a war council did not surprise him, for there was not a man among them who had any respect for the government of the United States. The chiefs had been wrong to give up their lands for promises of food and money, and he thought as his friends did that their situation had gotten so bad that not even war could make it worse.

  As he turned away he saw Hunted Stag's sister. Song of the Wren, standing nearby. She was supposed to be minding her little sister, but clearly she had been watching him instead. Like all Sioux maidens she would not approach a brave who interested her, but the boldness of her glance held an unmistakable invitation. She was a pretty girl with large brown eyes, flowing black hair, and a shapely figure, but Viper had not courted her nor any of her friends. They were all pretty and sweet, but none had ever stirred his blood to the point where he wanted to make her his wife. He gave Wren no more than a slight nod as he walked away.

  Wren was so disgusted that she had again failed to impress Viper favorably that she reached tor her sister's hand with a rude yank. The little girl gave a yelp of pain, which Wren quickly hushed. Her brother would tell her where the handsome brave had been. Since she had not seen his friends teasing him, she knew Viper had not been visiting a woman in another camp. But that thought did nothing to raise her spirits. She was a very popular girl. Many braves came to her tepee in the evenings, but that Viper was not one of them filled her with a disappointment so deep it was swiftly becoming a black rage. It was dme she took a husband, and no man but Viper would dol Dragging her whimpering sister along behind her, she returned to her family's tepee to ask her mother's advice in winning the heart of a reluctant brave.