Full Circle

by Rosanne Bittner

  Phillips grunted in disgust. “Dreams! You had better face reality. Miss Gibbons. Maybe Black Hawk never even had such a dream. Maybe he’s just saying that to win you over. Maybe he just wants a white woman in his bed!”

  Evelyn turned to face him in wide-eyed surprise that he was capable of such a remark. “And maybe you are angry because I am not in your bed!”

  Phillips stiffened as though someone had just hit him. His face turned a deep red. “Maybe I am.”

  Evelyn closed her eyes. “You threw away your chance at a very sweet, devoted love when you would not listen to me about Anita.” She opened her eyes and held his gaze boldly. “You are a fine man, Reverend Phillips, and I know that when you speak to me in anger and insults, it is only because you are concerned. I will forget what you said a moment ago, and I hope that if I did admit I was in love with Black Hawk and wanted to spend my life with him, you would accept that and understand that love knows no boundaries. You will yourself make a wonderful husband for someone someday, except that you will have to learn to be more tolerant and compassionate, which you should have been with Anita!” She saw the hurt in his eyes, and she sighed, angry with herself for arguing. “I admire and respect you in many ways, but if you want a wife, Reverend, you will have to look elsewhere. Please don’t hold that against me or let it destroy our friendship. Out here we need each other.”

  Phillips rubbed at the back of his neck. “My God,” he muttered. “I am sorry for what I said. I am also sorry that we can’t…” He looked toward the church. “Once Janine marries the lieutenant, she will leave when he’s transferred to Kansas. I guess that’s been on my mind. I am going to be very lonely.”

  “Reverend, with Greggory Evans dead and his wife… gone, I am sure Mission Services will be sending someone else soon. They may also send someone to replace Janine. Things will work out.”

  He smiled rather sadly. “I truly am sorry. As far as this thing about the whiskey peddlers, I did my best. They simply found no proof.”

  She nodded. “Our best is all any of us can do, Reverend.”

  The man glanced at her cabin. “When is he coming for Little Fox?”

  “I don’t know. Black Hawk is very unpredictable. He just shows up unannounced. It’s been two days since he left, so I suppose it could be any time.”

  He turned back to her, his eyes moving over her. “Be careful. And keep your door bolted.”

  Evelyn almost smiled at the words, remembering Black Hawk telling her that same thing. “Yes, Reverend.”

  The man turned and left, and with a heavy heart at knowing things had not turned out as she had hoped, Evelyn walked into her cabin, deciding that since there was nothing she could do for now about Seth Bridges or the whiskey smuggling, she must begin thinking about how she was going to win back the trust of the elder Sioux and encourage them to begin sending their children back to school now that the epidemic seemed to be waning. She would not have Anita’s help this time. Keeping Little Fox here and getting Many Birds to also come to school would be more important than ever in getting others to come.

  Winter would soon arrive. She could not keep going out to Black Hawk to teach his son. Could she convince him to stay closer to the school, or perhaps leave Little Fox with her for the winter? He was all Black Hawk had. It would be very hard for him to leave his son behind. She sighed, going to check on Little Fox, who was studying a reading book she had given him. “Time to go to sleep,” she told him. She touched his forehead, glad to feel it was still cool. “I think you’re going to get completely well very quickly now.”

  The boy smiled. “My father will come soon.”

  “Yes, he will.” Would the boy even want to stay here with her? He was so devoted to his father. She took away the book and tucked him in, then left to sit down wearily on the smaller cot in the main room. The news about the failed raid at Seth’s farm had left her feeling weary and discouraged. She got up again and undressed and washed, then put on a soft cotton nightgown. She did not have the energy tonight to go and draw water and carry it in and then heat it to wash the dishes from supper. She would not even feel like washing them if the water were already prepared. She decided to leave them for morning.

  She walked back to the cot on bare feet and sank into it, pulling a light blanket over herself, grateful for how the weather had finally cooled. When she closed her eyes, for a few minutes her mind raced with the reverend’s words, some of them hurtful. A little part of her wanted to give up and go home to Wisconsin, but her stubborn side would not let her.

  After a few minutes weariness overcame her confused thoughts, and she was asleep, never realizing she had forgotten to bolt the door.

  Twenty

  The dream returned, as vivid as the first night it had visited her. This time Evelyn could hear drumming and singing somewhere in the distance. As the vision of the Indian man on a spotted horse moved toward her, he and the horse were bright and easy to see, but all around them was solid blackness. The mount appeared to be coming at a hard gallop, mane flying, chest muscles moving in beautiful rhythm with each thundering step, nostrils flared. The handsome man who rode him leaned into the wind, his own dark eyes on fire. So fast they came, yet it was taking them so long to reach her.

  The drumming and singing became louder, and she felt her heart beating faster. Closer they came, the man reaching out for her. She grasped his hand, and in the dream Evelyn was so startled that she literally gasped in her sleep and sat straight up, putting a hand to her chest. Her heart truly was pounding, and she felt too warm.

  Still foggy from just awakening, she did not even think before removing her gown. She scrambled to get it off, breathing deeply, reminding herself she had just been dreaming. She used the gown to fan herself for a moment, wondering how she could be so hot when outside the night was cool. She put her legs over the edge of the cot, shaking her hair back and then setting aside the gown so she could run her fingers through her hair to get it entirely away from her face. It was only then that she realized someone was standing at the head of the cot, near the doorway to the bedroom where Little Fox slept. The one lantern she had left lit was nearly ready to go out, but it shed just enough light that she caught the intruder’s movement.

  She grabbed up her nightgown and leapt off the cot with a startled gasp, clutching the garment to her bosom. She ran to the door, but before she could reach it, a powerful arm came around her. Quickly, she was pinned against a man’s hard body. Another hand came over her mouth before she could scream.

  “It is I, Black Hawk,” he said softly near her ear.

  She stiffened, mortified yet strangely stirred by the feel of him touching her naked body.

  “Promise you will not scream,” he said softly.

  She nodded, and he slowly took his hand away from her mouth, but remained close behind her.

  “What are you doing here in the night like this!” she said in a whispered squeak, shivering with a strange mixture of terror and desire. “Get out!”

  He moved both arms around her, massaging her belly with one strong though gentle hand while he continued to hold her own arms fast with his other arm pressed across her naked breasts. “The door was not locked,” he said nuzzling at her neck.

  Why couldn’t she scream? Why didn’t she try harder to get away? All she felt was a wonderful warmth, a glorious feeling of being treasured and protected. Before she could try to reason with her feelings, the hand he had pressed to her belly moved down to a place no man had ever touched or seen. His fingers crept into the cavity between her legs, exploring, toying, awakening a part of her that had slept until now. “Please don’t do this, Black Hawk,” she groaned. “I only forgot… I didn’t mean…”

  “You had the dream again.” It was a statement rather than a question.

  “Black Hawk—”

  “I had the same dream.” He spoke in a low whisper. “I knew it was a sign that the time is right.”

  She won
dered if her chest would explode from the literal ache there, as her heart beat wildly from fear and excitement. “Right for what?”

  He moved his hand from private places and used it to tear the gown from her tightly closed fists while he continued to keep her arms pinned in a grip so strong there was nothing she could do to get out of it. “I think you know.”

  He rubbed himself against her bare bottom, and it was only then she realized he was also naked. His shaft was hard and hot pressing against her back.

  “No, Black Hawk!” she whimpered. “Don’t do this. I’ve never—”

  “Who else would you want to be your first man? Your only man?” He licked at her cheek, her neck, moved his other hand back down to secret places. “You know it is right, Evy. You knew this was meant to be before you even came to the reservation.”

  She should fight him, scream, but the wild, passionate woman buried deep inside secretly wanted this man, had wondered what it would be like to be his woman.

  “I have made up a bed on the floor and bolted the door.”

  Evelyn knew she should be angry that he had actually been here for several minutes, maybe longer! He had undressed, made up the bed, apparently had watched her sleep without ever making a sound that brought her awake. He had come here with the express purpose of uniting with her, taking it for granted that it would happen. How dare he! She should turn and slap him, kick him, scream bloody murder and accuse him of a most heinous crime… shouldn’t she?

  Was she still partially in a dream? Why did she only rest her head against his shoulder when he picked her up in powerful arms? Why did she let him lay her down on the several blankets he had laid out on the floor? Where had he gotten them? From her trunk while she slept? Why did she lie so limp and unprotesting when he moved on top of her, his shining black hair shrouding her face?

  He smelled so good when he leaned down to touch his cheek to her own. The lantern shed just enough light that she could see his eyes, eyes that blazed with desire. He licked at her lips, and she surprised herself when she opened her mouth and leaned up to kiss him almost savagely. She felt him hesitate a little, realized perhaps he had never actually kissed. Rubbing cheeks was the Indian’s usual way of showing affection, but quickly he caught on, and in the next moment he groaned, returning her kiss with great fervor.

  What had happened to her good sense? Her honor? Her ability to resist the wrong and do what was right? Perhaps it was just that she was not fully awake. Perhaps all of this was just an extension of her dream. She would wake up soon and realize she had not really done these things, wouldn’t she? His strong hands moved up the sides of her body, to her breasts, massaging them gently. His mouth left her own, trailed over her throat, down to her breasts, breasts he had seen the day she’d taken the arrow, the day he saved her life when he removed it and burned out the wound.

  What would he think of the puffy white scar beneath her left breast? Her answer came when he kissed it lovingly, then pushed the breast upward, lightly flicking his tongue against the nipple until she whimpered his name, aching for him to taste both breasts. Utter ecstasy ripped through her like lightning when he took time with each nipple, kissing, licking, lightly pulling one, then the other, into his soft, warm lips, then tasting them with more vigor, groaning as he savored each one as though hungry for her.

  Evelyn Gibbons had never known such intensity of feeling. His lips trailed on down, over her flat belly, then to the soft curves of her thighs, licking around places she never dreamed she would let any man explore this way. She was astounded at her own boldness, and the magical ways he had with her body.

  He briefly tasted the magic spot he had learned brought a woman to utter surrender, and he knew now that it was the same for a white woman. This woman had never been touched so intimately by any man, yet she trembled now with desire, and she made no effort to stop him. He wished the lamp was brighter so that he could better see her milky skin, the blond hairs that hid this special place that would belong only to him now. He wanted to see how pink it was, wanted to see all of her better, her full, firm breasts, her ripe lips, her blue eyes, glazed with desire only for him.

  Evelyn wondered where she would find her next breath. Whatever he was doing to her, she felt utterly helpless. Her whole body was on fire. His touch was magic, and instead of protests, all that came out of her lips were gasps of ecstasy. She drew in her breath and slowly let it out in a long, whimpering sigh. When a wonderful pulsating feeling engulfed her, rippling through her insides and making her feel wild and free and wanton, she grasped his hair, gasping his name, and he moved back up over her body with licks and kisses.

  Strangely, she was not afraid of what she knew must come next. She only knew that whatever this man had done to her, he had made her want to feel him inside her. He whispered sweet words in the Sioux tongue, moving between her legs and then sitting up slightly, spreading his own knees to push her legs apart. By the dim light of the lamp she could see that part of man that, on grown men, had been a mystery to her… until now. He was swollen like a stallion, and, momentarily, desire was overcome by fear of the unknown. Before she could act on that fear, he pushed himself into her in one quick thrust.

  Evelyn thought at first she might faint from the pain. He held himself there for a moment, their eyes locked, determination in his eyes, startled pain in her own. He was up on his knees now, grasping her thighs, looking down at her like the conquering warrior. “It will not hurt after this,” he promised.

  Evelyn was nearly in shock from the tearing, burning sensation between her legs. She wanted to cry, but she refused.

  “Relax, my sweet one,” he told her as he began gently moving in rhythmic thrusts. “Hechetu alo.”

  It is good, he had said. Evelyn was beyond reasoning whether or not he was right. She watched his dark eyes, trusted that he was not lying. Did his words that it “would not hurt after this” mean they would do this again? She did not want to think about the consequences of this act, their different worlds, the fact that they surely could never live as a husband and wife. She only wanted this moment.

  Black Hawk threw back his head and groaned, holding himself deep inside her then as he shuddered with his own release. She felt his life flowing into her, and after a moment of stillness, he leaned close, whispering in her ear. “We will do it again,” he told her. “Black Hawk loves you, Evy. You are his woman now. You belong only to him.”

  From then on the night moved in a magical, mystic swirl of lovemaking, exotic touches, exploration, and awakenings. Evelyn felt hypnotized by Black Hawk’s dark eyes, helpless under his touch. He brought out a wantonness she never realized dwelled in her soul. She could not imagine allowing Steven to do to her what Black Hawk was now doing, nor would she want it to be any other man, no matter how socially wrong some might think this was. She loved this man as much as any woman could love, and he loved her in return. Yes, she did belong to him, heart, soul, spirit, body. There was no going back, and she must not be fearful of the future. Surely God meant for this to be, or He would not have led her here so full of hopes and plans. He would not have brought the dreams that compelled her to come here.

  This was the answer, lying here in Black Hawk’s arms, feeling his power, taking pleasure in feeling him inside her and giving him pleasure in return. There was nothing reserved or hesitant about his lovemaking. This came as naturally to him as breathing. In his thinking, a man acted on his feelings without concern for rules or protocol. He did not live by white people’s standards, but by a kind of free thinking that taught joy and celebration, sharing love in the fullest sense.

  It was deep in the night before they finally fell asleep, naked bodies entwined, needing to touch, wishing the night would never end.

  Dawn broke, cool and pleasant. Evelyn stirred awake, lying still and listening to birds singing, taking a moment to try to remember why she was on the floor instead of on her cot. As she came fully awake, the memories startled her into a sittin
g position. She looked down at herself, realizing she was still naked. The bedding on the floor was in scattered disarray, and the place beside her was empty. “Black Hawk!” she whispered.

  She quickly stood up, wrapping a blanket around herself. For that brief moment between sleep and wakefulness, she had thought perhaps it all had been a dream, but her aching body and her burning insides told her otherwise. Her flannel gown still lay near the front door where Black Hawk had ripped it from her hands. All through the night she had been so sure what she was doing was right. Never had she known such a beautiful experience. But this morning… why was he gone? Had he just wanted to prove something? Was he laughing at her now, basking in his victory over the educated white woman?

  Surely not. He had been so gentle, so sincere. Black Hawk loves you, Evy. You are his woman now. You belong only to him. What had she done? What had he done to make her so bold and wild and sinful? Did he represent the devil? What on earth were they to do now?

  She walked over to peek into the bedroom. Little Fox lay sleeping peacefully. She hoped he had not awakened last night and heard maybe even seen, what she and his father were doing! What would the boy think of her? She decided to quickly wash before he awoke. Hastily, she brushed through her hair and twisted it into a bun, pinning it tight. Why did she feel that today she must dress more primly and properly than she would usually bother to do? Would others know what she had done just by looking at her? If she wore something very humble and plain, scrubbed her face and put no color on it, kept her hair hidden in the bun, would she look more innocent?

  She did just that, picking out a plain gray dress with a touch of white lace at the high neckline and at the ends of the long sleeves. Thank goodness it was cool today. When she washed she noticed blood on her thighs. She hoped it wouldn’t keep flowing and show on her clothing. She pulled on two pairs of drawers, stuffing a clean menstrual cloth inside them to help prevent any staining. She laced on her camisole, pulled on several slips, then the dress. It seemed to take forever to button the long row of buttons up the front. She hurriedly picked up all the blankets from the floor, carrying them into the bedroom and stuffing them under the bed. She would have to wash them as soon as possible, but there was no time to worry about that now. She walked back to the outer room, made up the cot, looked around to be sure everything looked in order. None of Black Hawk’s things were there.