Takoda

by T. M. Hobbs

  He looked at me for a few minutes, and I at him. He hesitated, I’m sure he was trying to decide whether I would scream, but we both knew it wouldn’t do me any good. Besides, how could I eat if my mouth was still gagged? He reached behind my head, hesitated, then began untying the gag he had in my mouth.

  He began eating the meat, staring blankly at the fire as if in deep thought. This was the first chance I had to get a good look at his him. His hair was long and jet-black. It was pulled into two braids hanging down either side of his neck over his shoulders. It glistened in the firelight, and the ends were secured by leather strings. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, only long pants made of animal skin which had been tanned out thin.

  His skin was a deep, rich bronze color, and his chest was broad and muscular. His arms were well muscled and defined. I guessed he was probably around twenty years old.

  After I finished my piece of bread, he again offered me a piece of dried meat. When I wouldn’t take it, he slowly moved it toward my mouth, but he waited for some reason, like he was testing me. Maybe he was afraid I would bite him. I opened my mouth and took the meat. He nodded his approval.

  He watched me for a long time, like he was memorizing my features.

  After we ate, he reached for my bound hands and tugged on them for me to stand. He put the bag with the food back inside the teepee, then held open the flap for me to go inside.

  I was petrified. I had no idea what he was going to do next, but when he folded the flap down behind me, with him staying outside, I collapsed on the ground and stifled my sobs in my hands. I crawled over onto a large piece of fur, which was lying on the ground, and curled up, trying to get a grip on myself, wondering what his intentions were.

  I must have cried myself to sleep. I dreamed about the night my parents were killed. I cried, as I looked on their bodies. I must have screamed, because my kidnapper was there beside me.

  Frantic, I scooted as far from him as I could and drew my knees to my chest. He reached for me, taking hold of my arm.

  I tried to get up, but tripped over the furs and fell into his arms. He held onto me and wouldn’t let me go. It wasn’t threatening. I felt his muscles relax, as he wrapped me in his warm arms. He wasn’t there to hurt me, or he would have already.

  He drew me down beside him on the animal fur and moved over, so he was against my back with his chest and stomach. He laid an arm over me to protect me and keep me warm. He never let go, and soon, I feel back to sleep.

  When I awoke, I pushed the flap back and peered outside. He motioned for me to come out of the tepee, as he threw dirt on the fire.

  He gave me another piece of flat bread and a strip of meat. I watched him take down the teepee and within minutes, he had everything secured to the back of the horse. He climbed onto the horse, reached down, and pulled me up with him.

  I wondered why he was allowing me to ride with him. If I was his captive, I was sure to receive harsh treatment.

  We rode until the sun the high in the sky. We stopped to give the horse water. I got down from the horse and scooped handfuls of fresh water and drank.

  I hadn’t heard him move, but he was standing beside me. He reached toward my mouth, waited a moment, and then wiped the water from my lips. This single gesture confirmed what I had begun to suspect. He didn’t want to hurt me, at least not yet.

  We got back onto the horse, and galloped off again, riding until it was almost dark, then he stopped and set up camp for the night.

  We sat near the fire, and he reached inside the leather bag, but this time took out a different type of bread. He held it carefully and came over to sit beside me, broke off a piece, and brought it to my lips.

  I watched his eyes the entire time, while he fed me a bite of the bread. It was sweet and had a wonderful flavor. I wiped the crumbs away and looked down at the remaining bread in his hand, but he was intent on keeping it there and feeding it to me, piece by piece.

  When I had eaten down to the last bite, I reached into his hand, took it, and brought it to his lips. He looked at me for a moment, then at my hand, before opening his mouth and taking it from me.

  I smiled and said, “Thank you.”

  He quickly looked away, showing signs of embarrassment, then he left to gather wood for the fire. When he finished, he went to the teepee and held the flap open for me to go inside. Once more I curled up on the fur and went to sleep.

  I woke shivering during the night. As if reading my mind, he opened the flap and stretched out beside me. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me up close.

  The next two days were the same. We traveled during the day, camped at night, and he would come in to keep me warm. When I woke, he would be outside getting things ready to leave. On the third day, however, I noticed he didn’t eat. He only offered me the food; I figured we were running low on rations, and we must be close to his home. I was right. Later that day, we came into an Indian village at the base of the mountains.

  The land was beautiful, and the village was large. The people were busy working around the large teepee’s at various tasks and children were running around playing. It looked very much like the towns I had traveled through, except these people were much darker, and the buildings were portable, not permanent.

  As we came into camp, I noticed a few young men, about the same age as the one behind me on the horse, smile and shake their heads at him. He just sat up even taller on the horse and wrapped his arm around me. It was almost as if he had proved them wrong about something, and I had a feeling that something was me.

  When we got off of the horse, several of his people gathered around, and he spoke for the first time. His voice was clear and deep, yet very soothing. I watched him, as he told his people, I’m sure about our adventure, and how we had come to be there in the village.

  He tensed up, as several older men approached, and stepped in front of me slightly as though he was putting himself between me and them. He kept his hand on my arm, but never hurt me. He had always been gentle with me.

  After he talked with them, they nodded and several women came to take me away. They took me to a large teepee. We went inside, and they took my dress off. I tried to stop them, but I soon realized they wanted to put one of their dresses on me, which was made of animal skin just like my captor’s pants.

  Then they began pulling my hair down and braided it like theirs. They wanted me to look more like them. But my light brown hair and fair skin was no comparison to their beautiful, black hair and dark skin.

  When we came back out, the whole village was a flurry of activity, and it revolved around a meal or feast of some sort. I sat on a large rock near the teepee I had changed in and watched as they worked together.

  That night there was a large amount of food spread out on a big piece of animal skin on the ground, and the young women who had helped me change, urged me to go forward and get something to eat. I looked around but didn’t see the young man who had brought me here until I sat back down. He was across the fire from me and watching my every move.

  ~~***~~

  The days went by fast, and soon I had been at the Indian village for two months. I was learning the language, working right alongside the other young women, and managing to get my captor talking to me, though he seemed shy.

  I learned his name was Takoda. He and his people were Crow Indians. I also learned several days after I had been brought to the camp that he spoke English. He called me Sayen, my real name was Sara, but I didn’t mind.

  As time went by, and he and I talked more and spent more time together, he told me he had been passing by the river on a hunting trip when he first saw me. He also confessed he came back after the hunt and watched me for days, trying to decide what to do, but when he saw my cousin, John, touching my hair and feeding me the pecan, he knew he was going to take me away because he didn’t like the white boy touching me.

  At ni
ght, I sometimes lay awake and remember how it felt to be in his arms when we journeyed to the village. I found myself thinking about him often.

  I told Takoda about my parents. He said it was probably the Cheyenne Indians. They were fierce warriors and hated all white men because they had been driven from their homes—their land. After many hours of talking with Takoda, I knew he and his people were different, and they would never hurt me.

  One day as we sat by river I asked him, “Takoda, why did you take me away from my family?”

  He turned to face me. “I wanted you.”

  His words made me feel an unusual feeling inside of me.

  “Takoda, you can’t just steal people away,” I told him, thinking about my aunt, uncle, and the boys.

  “This is true, and I am sorry. But would you have come with me if I had asked?”

  “No. You were a stranger to me.”

  “I am no stranger now. It is time for you to make your choice. I will take you back, if you wish to go.”

  “You would take me back to the farm, to my family?”

  “Yes.” He looked at the ground.

  “But that’s not what you want, is it?”

  “No. I want you here with me.”

  “What are you saying, Takoda?”

  “I say, nayeli nuttah,” he replied, turning to look back at me.

  “Nayeli nuttah. I feel my heart?” I asked confused.

  “No. Nayeli nuttah. It means ‘I love you in my heart’.”

  After watching me all those days by the river, he took me from my family because he fell in love with me. He wanted me for his wife.

  I knew, that first night when he comforted me, he would be special in my life, and I was right.

  We were married in a traditional Crow ceremony three days later. After the festivities, we packed the small teepee, some food, and the things we would need to go a ways from the village, while we got to know each other as husband and wife.

  It was late when we finally stopped for the night, but the moon was full and shining brightly down on us, as we put up our shelter for the night.

  I was nervous, but ready to be back in Takoda’s arms. I missed him holding me.

  When we finished setting up our teepee, he held the flap open, and I climbed inside. This time, he followed me in and closed the flap behind him, while I unrolled several furs. Then I sat on my knees, waiting for him to come to me.

  “I love you, Sayen,” he said, as he took the leather strings from my hair, gently pulling down the braids.

  When my hair was free, he ran his hand through it and pulled me to him. I rested my hands upon the firm muscles of his smooth, bronze chest. He tipped my face to meet his. I felt his hot breath against my skin, as he searched for my lips in the darkness. He was warm, like I remembered, and I moved closer needing to bridge the distance between us.

  I took down his hair and ran my fingers through it. He laid me back upon the fur and used another to cover us, as he undressed me, learning the curves of my body with his hands.

  His lips trailed along my neck, settling upon my own, and our kisses became more heated. He whispered his love to me, and called my name softly while he made love to me. Now, I was his.

  When our passion subsided, he wrapped me inside his strong, warm arms, and we fell asleep.

  I woke up during the night and felt him stroking my hair. I touched his face and let my fingers trace his profile. Our love for each other peaked again, this time stronger.

  Afterwards we held each other, and talked of our plans for the future, and what we would name our first child, before we drifted off to sleep once more.

  The next morning, I was preparing something for us to eat, when I heard the sound of hoofs in the distance. I looked up and saw horses coming toward us. It was several white men.

  John and Uncle Charles.

  When they saw Takoda, they drew their rifles, and began screaming for me to get out of the way. I felt as though it was all moving and happening so slowly, yet so very fast. But I would not let anyone hurt my Takoda. I jumped in front of him and held my arms out. “Don’t shoot. No!”

  The men came to a halt and looked at me as though I was crazy.

  John was the first one off of his horse, and he came running to me, but Takoda wrapped his arms around me. He was afraid John would take me away from him.

  “Sara, we found you,” he said, his voice quivering.

  “Hello, John. Uncle Charles,” I said. I felt tears fill my eyes.

  “Sara, let us take you back home. If you move away, we can take care of him, and he’ll never hurt you again,” John said through gritted teeth.

  I tried to step forward, but Takoda held me firmly by the waist. I turned and said, “It’s all right. Give me just a moment.” I turned toward John.

  “Sara, what...”

  “You will not hurt him. He is my husband,” I said and lifted my chin.

  “Your husband? How...”

  “Takoda and I are married and my home is with his people now. I’m with him because I choose to be.”

  “But how can you say this when the Indians took away your family… your life?”

  “They were not these people. Takoda’s tribe are Crow, and they have been very good to me. I love him very much. And yes, my life was taken away from me by the Cheyenne, but I have now been given a new life, with Takoda.”

  “Sara, are you sure this is the right thing to do? He must have taken you against your will?” Uncle Charles questioned.

  “He did, but it was for good reason, and I know I belong with him,” I said, going back to Takoda and wrapping my arm around his waist.

  My uncle finally hugged me and told me goodbye, but John wouldn’t even look at me. My uncle held out his hand to Takoda, and he shook it like a man, like brothers. Then they rode off, leaving me with Takoda and my new life. I knew I would be happy, very happy, from this day forward.

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  If you enjoyed Takoda, please look for TM Hobbs other books, Crystal Tears Forever and Born Free:

  Excerpt:

  Born Free

  The diner was unusually slow that day. I was pouring a cup of coffee for a customer seated at the counter when I saw him come in. The bell on the door rang as if announcing his arrival with its melodic chime, and I took note that he held the door handle with a firm grip, as he closed the door behind him.

  He stood about six-three with broad shoulders and a well-defined and sculpted body. The morning sun beamed around his silhouette, and I squinted a little harder to get a better look.” He ran his hand through his dark-brown, wind kissed hair, smoothing its waves toward the back of his head.

  Just as I suspected, when I peered out the window, I saw that his mode of transportation was a Harley that sat outside the diner.

  I had seen his type before, but there was something different about this man. Whether it was the way he casually looked around the place, or the confidence with which he held himself.

  He gl
anced around and chose a seat in a booth near the window then peered outside for a long time before picking up the menu. I used the opportunity to take a cup and a pot of black coffee over to his table.

  “What can I get you?” I asked.

  He glanced up from his menu, and for the first time I got a good look at his eyes. They were bluer than the sky on a summer day just before the storm rolls in, with hints of gray and black. His smile exposed tiny lines around the corners of his eyes. I’d guess he was around twenty-six or so, and the evidence of a carefree life shown on his face.

  “I don’t know. What’s the special today?” He folded the menu and handed it to me. I took that gesture as trust in my recommendation on what to eat.

  I smiled and gave him my opinion. “The usual isn’t bad. You know, bacon, eggs, and toast, but you look like you might need something hardier. I suggest two scrambles, a pan broiled New York strip, biscuits, and a side of grits loaded with butter.” I offered him a smile.

  “Sounds good. I am hungry this morning. I’ll have that, please.”