Lakota Surrender

by Karen Kay

  As he held her in his arms, he knew she loved him dearly. And for the first time since their marriage, she didn’t attempt to hide it.

  Julia gaped at the couple in the center of the dance floor. They made a spectacular sight, and one that had never before been witnessed at this fort. Tahiska was flawlessly dressed in his white deerskin shirt and leggings. Ornamented in blue, red, and yellow beads, sewn and painted with the same color porcupine quills, his dress complemented Kristina’s own ivory creation. His white breechcloth fell out and back with his movements and the lone eagle feather fell softly in his long, black hair. He was wild, untamed, and looked at complete variance with his golden-haired partner who was dressed lavishly enough to mingle within the courts of England. Nevertheless, they were fused together, and had there not been so much prejudice, Julia would have sworn all would see that they belonged together.

  But she worried. Had Tahiska lost all sense? She marked the expressions of those to her right, those to her left. Would Kristina’s reputation be shattered in the morning?

  Julia resolved this should not be, and surveying the entrance, stepped quietly toward Tahiska’s two friends, pulling Neeheeowee out onto the dance floor. If these spectators were determined to gossip about Kristina, Julia decided they could speculate about her as well.

  Neeheeowee followed the white woman onto the center of the dance floor reluctantly He had never learned this dance as his Lakota friend had, and he didn’t want to look the fool. However, he guessed Julia’s purpose and followed her lead. And though his movements were awkward, he tried his best to perform.

  The soft strains of the melody fell around them, and soon Major Bogard approached a trader’s wife, joining the two unusual couples in the center. George Catlin followed, asking one of the Indian wives, who stood at the entrance, to honor him with a dance. General Leavenworth, sensing a change of attitude and noting Mr. Catlin’s enthusiasm, quickly followed suit, and soon the traders, their wives in hand, joined the unusual sight. Before long, conversation accompanied the soft melody, and while a few refused to take part in this merging of cultures, most of the observers joined in, swaying to the beautiful notes of Pachelbel’s “Canon.”

  And had someone witnessed this from above, he would not have been able to discern white from Indian.

  The conductor, sensing the enthusiasm of the crowd, kept the music flowing. And soon, the hall was ablaze with life.

  Kristina held Tahiska’s gaze. She felt as though he were her only lifeline in this confusion of music, swaying movement, and hushed voices. The haunting melody of the violin and cello weaved a fantasy world around them. When he smiled at her, all else fell away. The frowning stares, the muffled murmurings became as nothing. She smiled back. For the moment, the two of them existed in a space out of time. She acknowledged only Tahiska, his love of her clearly displayed in the deep black of his eyes, and for the first time, she didn’t care who witnessed her devotion to him.

  She was wrapped in his embrace, unaware of Julia and Neeheeowee’s support, even of her father’s, Mr. George Catlin’s, and General Leavenworth’s acceptance of their dance. She didn’t hear the laughter. She didn’t observe the mix of cultures. In a world of her own, she swept around and around with her partner, smiling gently into his eyes.

  The music stopped. The spell was broken. For a moment Kristina did nothing but stare up at Tahiska. Gradually, however, she drifted back to earth.

  Still holding his gaze, she backed up. His arms fell away and she stepped out of his hold.

  She said nothing. Silently, he watched her retreat.

  She had just made a spectacle of herself. Her mother would rage at her and insist now that she be sent away. Tears gathered at the back of her eyes. Would she ever be able to explain? She had to decide. She could no longer live in both worlds. She had put off making the decision for a long while, and now the choice was forced upon her. But Kristina was unprepared, even loving him as she did. She sobbed and, tearing her gaze from his, fled.

  No one took note of her departure. A barrier had been broken and as conversation and laughter filled the hall, no one observed the girl who had set this scene into motion—no one except an Indian who wordlessly watched her flee, every step of the way.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Kristina sat stiffly by her bedroom window. The sash was open, admitting the chilly evening breeze. She faced the whisper of wind, allowing it to fan her cheeks, but she saw nothing, only the replays of the dance in her mind.

  What had she done? Unless she was able to flee the fort this very night, there was every chance her mother would confine her to her room until she could arrange to send her away—and just when Kristina had decided that this style of life meant nothing to her without Tahiska. If that fact meant living as the Indians did, so be it.

  In the distance a star shot across the sky, causing Kristina to glance at it in wonder. It was said that if one wished upon a star hard enough, the wish would come true. Focusing her attention Kristina wished with all her heart. She stared at it for a moment, then closing her eyes, took a deep breath.

  “Have I upset you, mitawicu?”

  Kristina jumped at the sound of his voice. She spun around to face him, as dim and shadowy as a phantom standing behind her. Kristina clutched the window ledge at her back for support and stared up at him. The wind blew the sheer curtains against her dress, enveloping her softly, while wisps of hair fell gently around her face.

  Tahiska captured a tendril of her hair in his hand. Against the moonlight, it shimmered as pale and golden as the morning sun against the brown tone of his skin. He sighed.

  “Are you upset with me?” he asked again.

  Kristina reached out her hand to touch him to prove to herself that he was real. She slid her fingers over his cheek, reassured by the velvety feel of his skin beneath her touch. She trailed her hand downward over his neck to the soft leather of his shirt without saying a word.

  The magical enchantment of the dance returned. Nothing existed except the two of them, and as he bent his head to her, his lips touching hers, Kristina was swept into another realm, another world. Nothing mattered, not culture, not enemies, not prejudice. There was only love, as vivid and real as existence itself.

  She melted against him. Nothing had ever felt so right. And as the kiss deepened, she knew the fort was no longer home. Where once the garrison’s walls had stood for security, now those same barriers represented imprisonment. Her place was out there with her husband. Her husband.

  Kristina ran her hands through his hair. Had she finally admitted to herself that they were, in truth, husband and wife?

  She broke away, staring at him in the faint moonlight. “I will never allow you more than one wife,” she whispered, her lips still against his. “Know that if you marry me, I will be the only.”

  “We will talk of this more tomorrow.”

  “No, I would have your word now.”

  He smiled. “Then you acknowledge that you are my wife?”

  Kristina couldn’t turn her gaze from his face. In the hazy darkness, he looked so handsome, Kristina was overcome with yearning. How was it possible to love anyone so much?

  He just continued smiling at her, trailing his fingers over her cheek. “At last, you are truly my wife, are you not?”

  She nodded, the simple gesture conveying love more fervently than mere words could possibly have done.

  “You will come with me when it is time for me to return to my people?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  Tahiska had never felt anything quite like this. Happiness flowed from him as though it were a tangible quality. He ached with feeling, and at this moment he knew that he could search the universe forever and never find another love such as this. “I will strive,” he whispered in his own tongue, “to keep you always happy.”

  His glance at her was as silky as a caress, as gentle and pure as the love between them. And Kristina, a willing victim of it, melted into his arms.
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br />   Tahiska enfolded her against him, and when a single tear fell from his eye, he chose to ignore it.

  “Stay with me.” Kristina’s voice was only a whisper.

  “I cannot.”

  She breathed deeply, pulling away from him. “We won’t be disturbed. I can lock my door.”

  “Hiya. No. I cannot stay.”

  “Why?”

  Tahiska looked toward the ceiling, then back at his wife. Though he longed to tell her, he couldn’t. What would her reaction be if he confessed to her his real reason for being here? She would know tomorrow. That would be soon enough. He and his friends needed the element of surprise. If he told Kristina his plans now, she might warn those who had the most to lose. If he was in her position, isn’t that what he would do? No, he dared not discuss it. Even now his friends waited for him. They hadn’t liked his leaving them, but he’d had to see Kristina.

  “Why, Tahiska? Tell me.” She took his hand in hers, leading it to her breast.

  His indrawn breath sounded too loud against the quiet of the night surrounding them.

  “I love you, my husband,” she avowed. “I want you to stay with me.”

  His hand burned against her cool flesh. And despite himself, Tahiska responded.

  Where the touch upon her breast had been feather-light, he now cupped his fingers over the fullness of her, realizing he had lost this subtle game, yet willingly submitting, all the same. He sighed, then asked, “Will we be disturbed?”

  “Not until morning. You could stay the night.”

  The temptation was too great, and Tahiska was beyond denying himself. He’d been patient forever, it seemed, and he hadn’t spent a full night with his wife since his wedding day. She was his by her own admission, and he needed no further inducement.

  He pulled her back against him. “So be it,” he murmured into the softness of her hair.

  He didn’t see the smile cross Kristina’s face. But when she took his hand, leading him to the bed, he glanced at her and caught the happy grin.

  “I love you,” she spoke softly.

  He returned her smile. “And I love you.”

  He kissed her then, and when she pulled him down to the bed, he pretended not to notice that, unlike the solid earth, it gave way beneath them. What did it matter? He was here with his wife. It was enough.

  Tahiska lay awake, Kristina in his arms. Soon he would leave. Soon he would face what he must. But for now he sighed, content. He glanced down at his love and smiled. In sleep, she took complete possession of him, one of her arms thrown over his chest, one leg over both of his. But he didn’t mind. In truth, he wished he could get closer, but it wasn’t humanly possible.

  He should be exhausted—he should be, but he wasn’t. He was exhilarated, triumphant. His Kristina was finally his. At last, she had accepted him, his way of life, and in the early morning hours, they had sealed their devotion to one another, their passion not letting up until only moments ago.

  But Tahiska hadn’t fallen asleep. He couldn’t.

  He glanced down at his wife. He had never seen anyone more beautiful; and she was his.

  He could feel her furry mound against his leg now as they lay entwined and he grimaced at his own immediate response to her. He sighed, glancing toward the ceiling. He should let her sleep. They had made love this night until even the moon had set, and yet…

  He touched her there, marveling again at the fuzziness at the juncture of her legs. Indian women had no such markings.

  “Tahiska…” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  “I am here.”

  “What time is it?”

  Tahiska understood the words, but not the concept. “What is this time?”

  “I…” She popped open one eye. “Never mind, I…” She never finished it. She seemed content to let her hands talk for her, her fingers caressing him boldly, over the planes of his chest, down over his stomach, up again, down.

  Tahiska drew in his breath, determined to let her touch him as he had done with her only moments earlier. This might be their last night together. Only tomorrow would tell. And he would let her have this night.

  Up and down, her fingers stroking him, until at last she found the firm length of him.

  “Tahiska! You want me again?”

  “Can you not tell for yourself?” He drew her hand away from him, bringing it to his lips. “I do not know if I will ever get my fill of you.”

  She smiled up at him and Tahiska thought he would go mad with wanting her, loving her. “Was there ever a happier man?” he asked, expecting no answer. Then, he continued, “When you are near, I feel as though I am one with nature, with all living things. With you, I am alive as I have never been in all of my past.” He put her hand to his forehead. “Here. With me. I will always remember you. I will love you. Here.”

  Kristina closed her eyes, her lower lip trembling. “I… Tahiska, I…” She paused. “Remember. What do you mean remember?”

  He drew his hand over her forehead as though to clear her mind. “Do not ask,” he whispered, “what I cannot answer. Know that I love you and I always will.” He moved over her then, the bed cushioning his movements.

  She didn’t question him further. Instead, she lay poised, giving herself willingly to him, and when he entered her, they both sighed in relief, as though both had awaited this union a long, long time instead of a mere moment.

  They smiled at one another then, his hips thrusting against hers, she answering him with movements all her own, locked in beautiful, simultaneous motion.

  “You are the most lovely of creatures I have ever seen,” he remarked truthfully, caressing a firm breast with one hand, while with his other, he took on his own weight, holding any heaviness away from her. “I am truly a man enlightened with medicine. It is good. You are good.”

  The scent of her, her own unique perfume, was driving him too close to the edge, and with great restraint he held back, watching her face, seeing for himself the pleasure he gave her.

  “Come with me,” he breathed to her. “Just as though we were dancing, Kristina. You and I. Only you and I. Come with me.”

  She moaned, she whimpered. And had she been able, he was sure she would have screamed, for he could see the pleasure in her eyes.

  As she reached the precipice in this most pleasurable of all struggles, he followed her. In that moment, and for all time, the essence of who and what he was touched her, merged with her, bonding the two lovers together as surely as water flows to sea; it was then, within the space of that one heartbeat, that he understood all that she was.

  And he knew. There wasn’t even a lingering doubt. He would love her forever.

  Margaret Bogard paced the length of the sitting room. Dust had accumulated on the mantel. She ran her finger over it, snorting in disgust. There was just no getting used to the lack of good help in this god-forsaken place. She hated it here, had felt this way right from the start.

  Why had she ever married Wendall Bogard? And what had possessed her to return to him after the sophistication of New York and Boston? Love—a flimsy emotion capable of making the worst of decisions seem suitable. Well, she would have no more of it and she would ensure her daughter would never fall victim to the same mistakes.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, just remembering the way Kristina had danced with that Indian tonight.

  The savage! It was disgraceful! An outrage! What would her friends say? How could her own daughter have heaped such an insult upon her family? Never mind that Kristina was fascinated with the young man. She couldn’t possibly know her own mind. Love. Bah! Hadn’t she, Margaret Bogard, realized too late that one had to ignore these feelings if ever one were to attain a place in good society? There were many suitable men for Kristina. But not here. Here, the influence of the savage held too much mystery, too much appeal.

  No more! The time to leave was now. And Margaret Bogard felt no remorse over the prospect of leaving her husband. It was he who had brought them here, he who had plac
ed Kristina in a position where she was in constant contact with the natives.

  She would plan their immediate return and no one would stop her. It was simply for the good of all. Why no one else saw this was beyond her understanding. Perhaps she, Margaret Bogard, was the only person who had Kristina’s welfare in mind. Obviously her own husband saw nothing wrong in allowing their daughter to associate with the Indians.

  Well, it was lucky for Kristina that her own mother was determined to save her.

  “Maggie.”

  Margaret Bogard’s attention flicked toward the door. She raised her chin, staring disdainfully at her husband through her lashes. She straightened her shoulders, demanding, “What was the meaning of that outrage?”

  “I…”

  “There’s no excuse. You put our daughter in that situation. You arranged for her to act as interpreter…”

  “No, I didn’t…”

  “You parleyed with those savages. You even speak their language, and it was you who hired Kristina’s Indian nanny several years ago. What sort of father would allow his daughter to associate with savages? I can’t help but feel you are a bad influence on our daughter. Why, there is no one at this entire fort who is her equal. She has the pure bearing and good name of my family. I still find it hard to believe that you dared to bring us here. Well, I will bear this insult no longer. You are to arrange our passage home immediately.”

  The blood drained from the major’s face, and he stood for several moments without uttering a word. He shifted nervously from one foot to the next before allowing his gaze to center on his wife. Looking at her, he knew she wasn’t the same person he had married over twenty years ago. In those early days that person had been as adventurous as he, as ready for the unknown as any pioneer. What had happened to her? Had Boston changed her so much?

  “I agree with you, Maggie, that this may not be the best place for the two of you. But I don’t believe leaving here now is a solution. You must realize that Kristina would only object and end up hating us both for it. Let her end the fascination herself. I’m sure she’ll come to her senses. But if you take her away now, she’ll only champion the Indian more. She’ll pine for him in Boston.”