Bittersweet Ecstasy

by Taylor, Janelle

  Slowly Bright Arrow aroused and found himself looking into the worry-lined but smiling face of his brother. He was confused, and exhausted. His body trembled and ached. He tried to sit and talk.

  Sun Cloud prevented it and entreated, “Do not worry, my brother, for our enemies have yielded. We will take you home to heal and to rest.”

  From his blur of pain and bewilderment, Bright Arrow murmured weakly, “I am… ashamed, my brother. I… tried to take the chiefs bonnet and Singing Wind… from you. I was blind and foolish. You must forgive me. I have dis… honored myself and our people.”

  Sun Cloud stroked Bright Arrow’s sweaty brow and refuted, “No, my brother, you have done as Grandfather wished. You will become war chief, for Big Elk is dead. Rest, and we will speak later.”

  “I do not deserve to live. I let my foes trick me with a truce flag and many of my warriors died over my foolishness.”

  “No, my brother,” Sun Cloud protested firmly. “We were told to seek peace where we could find it. It is not your fault it was not here, for you obeyed in the face of great danger. You were very brave and all will honor you.” His dark eyes roamed his brother’s numerous injuries and darkened ominously as they reached the wales from the soldier’s leather belt. That treatment was humiliating and unforgivable, and the soldier had paid for his action with his life. Sun Cloud gently tended his brother’s wounds as he related his own battle.

  Sun Cloud announced to the group, “We will take our brave warriors home; then we will join those at the fort. Our victory is near.”

  Travois were constructed to carry the wounded and dead home, which would slow their return. This time, there was only one survivor, a young soldier whom Sun Cloud had chosen as his warning messenger to Fort Dakota. The two bands realized, if Silver Hawk had been as successful as Sun Cloud had, the hostile fort would soon be helpless…

  “Wahear?” Singing Wind gently shook Rebecca’s shoulder as she called her name to arouse her. She watched Rebecca stir and moan, and was eager to hear how the woman had survived and returned.

  Rebecca gazed into the Indian maiden’s face, then smiled. “Singing Wind, what are you doing here? What happened? What’s going on?” she probed, then frowned worriedly as reality swiftly engulfed her.

  Singing Wind hurriedly explained the attack on the Blackfeet camp and her capture. She related the current events and dire situation to the stunned woman whose return would fulfill her dreams and destiny.

  “Dead?” Rebecca murmured sadly at the news about Gray Eagle and Shalee. “How is Bright Arrow? Are my children safe?”

  Singing Wind tried to bring Rebecca up to date gradually, not wishing to overwhelm the woman with so many distressing facts at once. She could tell that Rebecca was happy for her daughters and was eager to see them. But Rebecca was distressed over the other episodes. She thought it was best to keep silent for now about the brothers’ rivalry over the Oglala chief’s bonnet and her. “Tell me of your trouble.”

  Before Rebecca responded, first, there was something she had to know. “He hasn’t given me up for dead yet? He hasn’t…joined to another?” the auburn-haired beauty inquired anxiously.

  “No, but he has suffered greatly over your loss. Where have you been? What happened to you?” Singing Wind asked apprehensively.

  Rebecca told the woman whom she had known since childhood the details of her stunning trek away from and back to this land and her love. She talked about Timothy Moore and the peril he represented.

  “It is bad, Wahea,” Singing Wind concurred. “My brother was a fool to fail in his duty. His heart and deeds have been wicked for many winters, but they darkened during this past season. We will speak of Silver Hawk later,” she hinted, knowing that to expose her brother’s evil would also expose the false visions and their effects on many lives, including theirs. “I pray the other bands are safe and victorious. We must find a way to escape and to warn our tribes. It is clear the bluecoats see us as weapons against our peoples. We must not allow this, even if we must die. Grandfather will help us return to our loves and destinies. All is good, for He has brought you home.”

  “I pray it wasn’t to get this close, to die before…”

  As Rebecca began to weep softly and fearfully, Singing Wind comforted her, “Do not say or think such things, Wahea. All is not lost.”

  Rebecca looked into the Indian beauty’s eyes and argued, “But you do not know of his evil and hatred. Timothy wants me hurt and dead.”

  The women were given food and water that night, and Timothy Moore came to visit. He stood at the door and gazed through the bars at the woman he had loved and wanted to marry long ago, the woman who had duped and betrayed him, the woman who had taken nearly everything from him. He was consumed by the desire to see her suffer, and to see Bright Arrow suffer through her pain and loss, more than the warrior had suffered during her mysterious absence. He had ordered Jeremy to stay away from Rebecca, and the trapper was compelled to obey. Presently, Jeremy was getting drunk at the sutler’s place.

  “Ye are like ae little red bird in ae cage, Rebecca Kenny,” he taunted her. “I plan tae wrap my hands around ye neck an’ squeeze tha life from ye traitorous body, when I hae nae more use for ye.”

  Rebecca stared at the spiteful male, but did not reply. She knew it was useless to debate his hatred, his past actions, and his current ones. He would merely derive sadistic pleasure from her displays of fear and protest. Silence and courage would serve her and suit her better.

  “My little bird hae nae song tae sing tonight?” he jested mirthfully. “Ye will be singin’ plenty soon, singin’ o’ ye pain an’ for ye betrayal.”

  Rebecca clenched her teeth to hold back her retorts. She shifted sideways on the bunk to place her back to him. No cunning plan came to mind, for it was perilous to try to dupe Timothy again, and it probably would not work. Escape seemed impossible, for this fort would be guarded like a bank filled with gold!

  Timothy laughed maliciously, then strolled away to his quarters.

  Singing Wind went to sit beside Rebecca. Their gazes met and they embraced each other for comfort and encouragement.

  It was around midnight when Singing Wind and Rebecca were aroused from their restless sleep by the door opening to their prison. The nervous guard entered with Timothy Moore, who reeked and swayed from whiskey. The two women sat up on their bunks and Moore glared from one to the other in the eerie glow which was cast by his lantern.

  “Sir, I don’t think we should be in here,” the guard advised, for he perceived that the man was up to no good. He would be discharged soon, and he did not want any more trouble than they already had.

  Moore faced him and sneered. “I be ae colonel an’ ye be ae corporal, so stay out o’ my affair. I want tae question this Injun whore.”

  Singing Wind rose quickly and took Rebecca’s side protectively as the drunken man started toward the auburn-haired woman. Moore’s agitation increased, and he charged forward to deliver a stunning blow across the Indian woman’s jaw. When Singing Wind collapsed to the ground, Moore kicked her in the ribs, nearly breaking one.

  The guard rushed forward and seized Moore’s arm to keep the officer from kicking the unconscious female again. “Sir, what are you doing? These are helpless women. They’re valuable captives. General Cooper won’t like this,” he reasoned anxiously.

  “Git ye ass outside, Corporal,” Moore commanded harshly. “An’ dinna ye enter ag’in before I leave. An’ cover tha window on ye way out.”

  The guard was alarmed and repulsed, but figured he should obey the uncontrollable man who was a higherranking officer and a friend of his commander’s. He took a blanket and covered the window over the door, the only one in the small blockhouse, then left reluctantly.

  Moore glanced at their private surroundings and grinned satanically. He grabbed Rebecca as she tried to flee past him to the door, either to escape or to cry for help. He clamped his large hand over her mouth and nose, then shook her roughly. “Th
ere be nae escape for ye this time, Rebecca. I should hae done this long ago. When I finish with ye, nae man will want ye or will look at ye,” he threatened.

  He backed her to the bunk and shoved her upon it. Pinning her down with his weight and strength, he yanked off his yellow bandana and gagged her with it. When she continued to struggle with him, he slapped her several times to stun her. Then, withdrawing his belt, he bound her hands securely behind her back before he slowly and intimidatingly removed his boots and shirt and tossed them aside. When Singing Wind moaned and moved, it seized his attention. Taking his knife, he cut strips from a thin blanket, then bound the Indian girl’s wrists and ankles and gagged her. As he pulled off his pants, he chuckled and said, “If I hae time an’ energy left, little savage, I’ll take ye too.”

  Rebecca’s dazed senses gradually cleared and she recognized her perilous fate. Her wide eyes gaped at the naked man who was standing beside her. A muffled cry and more vain struggles came forth as Timothy seized her dress and ripped open the front of it. One hand roughly fondled a soft breast as the other moved up her thigh and halted as it made contact with her womanly region. “I see ye be hot an’ eager for me. I bet ye ain’t slept with tha trapper, so I bet ye be real hungry tonight. I been waitin’ o’er twenty years for this moment.”

  “And it won’t come tonight either, Colonel Moore,” Major Ames declared from the doorway as he entered to halt this despicable cruelty. The guard had rushed to his quarters, awakened him, and warned him of this vindictive and outrageous situation.

  Moore whirled at the intrusion and, unmindful of his nudity, scoffed, “Ye bes’ git out o’ here, Major Ames, or ye be ae dead man.”

  Ames did not waver or retreat. “Not this time, Colonel. I’ll fight you and kill you before I let you rape these two women.”

  Timothy Moore chuckled and invited, “Why dinna ye take tha pretty Injun girl for yeself? This one be mine. Rebecca owes me plenty, an’ it’s time tae collect.”

  “She doesn’t owe you anything, you vile bastard. You brought your troubles on yourself. Don’t go putting the blame for your mistakes and cruelties on her. Now, get out of here and sober up.”

  “I see, ye wants her too. Dinna worry, lad; ye kin take her after I finish. She’s got enough treats tae feed this whole fort. Tha’s ae guid idea,” he stated crudely and wildly. “Let all tha men hae her; tha’ will punish them divils. Bright Arr’r will die o’ grief an’ pain.”

  “You’re crazy, Moore,” Ames charged as he observed the man.

  “Aye,” Moore nonchalantly agreed. “But she will cure me real soon.”

  Ames approached to subdue the officer, but Moore attacked him. They scuffled frantically, for Moore had grabbed his knife and was trying to kill Ames to cease the man’s interference.

  Singing Wind had recovered her senses, and both females were trying futilely to free themselves. As the enraged Moore pinned Ames to the ground and raised his knife to plunge it into Ames’s heart, the guard clobbered Moore with the butt of his rifle. Moore fell aside, and Ames scrambled to his feet.

  Ames tried to slow his rapid respiration before saying, “Thanks, Corporal Richards. Lordy, what a mess we got here,” he mumbled, not knowing what to do next.

  Corporal Clint Richards scratched his graying head and hinted, “This ain’t the end of it, sir. I wouldn’t be surprised if he talks General Cooper into letting him have this girl. Cooper’s been loco ever since he got here, and Moore’s got him under his control.”

  “You’re right, but I can’t go against them. Unless…” he murmured thoughtfully, then eyed the two women. “Bind and gag Moore while I free these women. It seems to me like there’s gonna be an escape tonight. I doubt Moore will contradict us once he sobers up.”

  While Clint obeyed Ames’s order, which he found most agreeable, Ames freed Rebecca and Singing Wind and explained the shocking plan to them. The two women listened carefully and gratefully. As he bound and gagged Clint, he said, “This won’t seem impossible. You know about the secret gates. I wish I could get you some horses and supplies, but that ain’t smart. Just get out of here and as far away as possible. Find a place to hide until those warriors return and find you.”

  The women thanked Major William Ames and followed his clever plan. Getting out of the fort was easier than they had expected, for the cell and concealed gates were blocked from the sentry’s view by another structure and the troops were camped on the far side of the wall. After they vanished into the darkness, Ames completed his daring scheme. All he could do was pray that the escape was not discovered for a long time, time enough for the two women to hide themselves. If Moore reported the truth, it would be his word against theirs, for they would swear that Moore had attacked Clint to keep the guard from protecting the women or from summoning help. They would deny that Clint had sought Ames’s help and received it. They would swear that the women had overpowered the wicked Moore and escaped.

  Ames smiled at Clint and said, “Let’s just hope nobody saw us.” The gagged Clint nodded, then Ames stealthily retraced his earlier steps after leaving the guardhouse door cracked.

  Crawling gingerly on their stomachs until they were a safe distance from the fort, Singing Wind and Rebecca snailishly reached a cover of tall grass and bushes. From there, they cautiously made their way to the forest. Well-trained and highly skilled, Singing Wind concealed their tracks from the Crow scouts who were certain to pursue them soon.

  Rebecca whispered, “I hope they fall for Major Ames’s tale, or he’s in big trouble. And we are too if we don’t find a perfect place to hide. We can’t get far on foot and without supplies. Do you think anyone will return in time to rescue us?”

  Singing Wind halted her task briefly and replied, “I do not know, Wahea. All camps are busy with raids and defense. These new whites are evil and clever. We must get home to warn them of this new treachery. If we…” The Indian female went silent to check their shadowy surroundings with her keen ears, eyes, and nose. Someone comes, she warned with sign language, and the women prepared themselves to confront this new peril.

  Chapter Twenty

  As the scouts who had been left behind surrounded the two women, Soul-of-Thunder stared at Rebecca Kenny in disbelief. “It is you, Wahea,” he stated incredulously, then hugged her tightly and joyfully.

  Rebecca knew from Singing Wind’s words that this young man had married her daughter Tashina recently. She hugged him affectionately, for she had known the son of her husband’s best friend since he was a baby. “I am home at last, and I have heard the wonderful news about you and my daughter. I am proud to have you as my son, and I am eager to see my family. We need help. What are you doing here?” she suddenly asked, as if just realizing they had been rescued.

  Soul-of-Thunder hurriedly explained their presence and their observations earlier that day. “We were told of Singing Wind’s capture and the attack on the Blackfeet camp and other camps. Silver Hawk was not with us; he was band leader for one of the war parties. We sent word to him along the trail to Fort Henry. When I saw the flaming-haired woman enter the fort with bluecoats, I shivered and rubbed my eyes, then told myself I had not seen what I believed I had. How can this be? All feared you dead or lost to enemies.”

  As quickly as she could, for she knew time was short, Rebecca related the highlights of her disappearance and return. “They will discover our escape soon. We must all flee, for many will pursue us. It is not safe here.” She reported the Army’s size and strength, and revealed the evil of its leaders. “We must all leave. If we are to know victory and peace, all tribes must battle this foe as one.”

  “That is what we do, Wahea, my new mother; all tribes ride and attack as one to be stronger than our foe. We must leave before they search for you and capture all of us. They are too many for only four scouts to battle. It is good you have returned before Bright Arrow and Singing Wind could join. Little Feet has returned to your camp and joined to White Arrow’s son, Thunder Spirit. Chief Races-the-B
uffalo was slain while you were lost,” he rapidly explained at her look of confusion. But Rebecca’s bewilderment had come from his previous statement, and she turned to gaze probingly at the Indian girl.

  Singing Wind smiled contritely and entreated, “Do not worry, Wahea; we do not love each other and we will not join. I will explain this matter to you later when we are away and safe, for it requires much talk. My heart belongs to Sun Cloud and I wish to join him. Bright Arrow desires only your return and your love.”

  “Why did you not tell me about you and my husband?” she asked.

  “It was not the time or place to burden you with news which means nothing. All will be settled soon, you will see.”

  Rebecca scoffed. “Means nothing? My husband was going to marry you soon, and you say that means nothing? Tell me everything.”

  Soul-of-Thunder comprehended the problem and Rebecca’s reaction to it. He had not thought before speaking of Bright Arrow’s impending mating, but Singing Wind’s words surprised and intrigued him. He wondered if they were true, or if the girl was only trying to comfort and relax Rebecca. It was clear that Singing Wind had not related this news, and it had shocked and disturbed the mother of his beloved wife.

  Soul-of-Thunder said, “Singing Wind is right, Wahea; we must flee quickly and talk later. You have returned; Bright Arrow will not take another in your place; he has suffered greatly over your loss. He only wished to end his torment and to begin a new life. Bright Arrow and Singing Wind were told it was the will of Grandfather for them to join; that is why they agreed.” He spoke with the other scouts and they made plans. Two Sisseton warriors agreed to loan him one of their horses and to ride double to their camp so Rebecca and Singing Wind could ride together. The other Cheyenne warrior would return to his tribe while Soul-of-Thunder escorted the women to the Oglala camp. When the other warriors reached home, they were to send messages to all other tribes, to report their observations and escape.