Since Rebecca’s surprise arrival, Moore had ignored him completely! His full concentration had been upon her. Rebecca had not been brought to view her intrepid enemy again; wisely, she had also ignored him. He jealously watched them each time they appeared outside his wooden tepee. He strained to hear her laughter and words. She was playing her game well, for she had Moore bewitched. What plagued his troubled mind was the events he could not witness and the words he could not overhear. How far would his Rebecca go to win Moore’s confidence and affection? He could not even force himself to imagine the answer.
It was evident to Bright Arrow that Moore would never release him or trade him. During his incarceration, he had learned too many secrets. He had discovered the reason for their unsuccessful siege upon the fort: the hidden water supply, the hefty store of supplies, the number of men and weapons, and the concealed gates in the fort’s walls. To exchange him for any number of white captives or the Eagle himself, would also exchange the vital information which. Bright Arrow now possessed.
This very night, just before Wi had left to sleep, Moore had come to visit him. That conversation still rankled his warring emotions. It was too late for him, and his forbidden love was in the control of this powerful foe.
Moore had stood at the small window, staring at him for a long time in brooding silence. Bright Arrow had returned his piercing glare. Finally, he had spoken, “I canna free ye, lad, nae trade ye. Ye be ae man o’ honor. Ye know I mus’ kill ye. Ye fate ‘twas sealed when ye ‘ere born ae redskin. ‘Twill do us both ae fav’r tae end it. Tae’morr’r, Bright Ar’er. I dinna risk waitin’ nae more. I got tae turn my ’tention tae other matters. I got ae woman tae think o’. Pray tae ye Great Spirit, lad, fur ye’ll join ‘em afore another moon.” He had turned and slowly walked away…
It was settled; he would die with the coming sun; there was nothing and no one to save him. His mind and body were exhausted, but he could not sleep. The events from the first moment he had laid eyes upon Rebecca Kenny to the present crawled through his mind.
Rebecca nervously and silently paced Timothy Moore’s bedroom. For the past two and a half days, she had patiently and apprehensively bided her time as she watched for the opportunity to release her Indian lover. No daylight hour or moment of nightly protective shadow had presented such a moment. Each time Timothy had lingered for conversation or a meeting in the cookhouse, soldiers had always been scattered around in the courtyard. In the midst of darkest night, she had also been denied any opportunity to sneak out; Timothy slept upon a bedroll in his office, between her and the door. She had frequently noted the sentry’s rounds beyond the only bedroom window, preventing that path of assistance.
Each passing hour had instilled her with the reality that Bright Arrow’s time was steadily and relentlessly running out. Not one meager chance to attempt his release! she fretted in fear and alarm. Things had not gone as expected or planned. She had not counted upon a lovestruck commander! She had not considered a total lack of solitude at night! Everything had gone differently than imagined.
Instead of instantly going to work for Timothy and his men to earn her keep, she had been pampered and guarded like a valuable treasure! Most of her time had been spent in the commander’s company or barricaded in his bedroom.
Rebecca cocked her ear toward the door crack. The soldiers chatted and joked for a few more minutes. Then to her horror, she heard Timothy casually announce he had decided to hang Bright Arrow from the large wahoo tree outside the fort’s walls: hang him at sunrise tomorrow!
She quaked, nearly fainting from shock. Time had cruelly deserted her! Bright Arrow’s release appeared impossible. Yet, an attempt must be made tonight or never. Never…the word’s finality shocked her terrified brain.
“Never touch him again? Never see him again?” she whispered in anguish. How could she allow her love and life to end in this bitter and savage manner? Never! Never! Never! the awesome word drummed within her head and heart like an ominous chant until she covered her ears to shut out the tragic song. Tears of agony eased down her cheeks as echoes and images of shared ecstasy flooded her mind…
Chapter Fourteen
About midnight, Rebecca stared out the window which faced the back wall of the fort. Although there was very little moonlight with which to study her hazardous surroundings, the cramped area directly before her line of vision was deserted. She whispered, a fervent prayer, summoned her lagging courage, and stretched out her trembling hands to open the back window. Anger and despair flooded her tense body; it was stuck. As she prayed for guidance and assistance, her panicky gaze found the pinlike peg which hindered her progress. In renewed hope and suspense, she struggled with the stubborn peg to pull it from its hole. Just as she was about to give up this seemingly futile battle, the peg moved and finally pulled free. She sighed in relief and offered up a prayer of gratitude.
Taking care not to make any noise, she set the peg down. To her surprise and delight, the window lifted without a sound. She peered outside. She scanned the direction of the enlisted men’s barracks. Not a single soul could be sighted in the narrow area between the two-story complex and the lofty back wall. Thanks to the unusual chill in the night air, most windows along the back of that wooden structure were closed. She climbed out carefully to prevent any excessive noise, then lifted her blanket out behind her. She wrapped the dark blanket around her slender body to hide her clothing. Rebecca hastily glanced in both directions, hesitating briefly as the dangers and rewards of this daring episode rushed into her mind. Knowing what was at stake, she cast aside all thoughts to failure.
She inhaled deeply several times to slow her racing heart, then made her way to the corner of the building that housed Timothy’s quarters. Calling upon every ounce of courage she possessed, she peered around the edge of the wooden structure. As with the enlisted men’s quarters, not a lantern light or man could be sighted. She stared at the distance, to the other end of this building; it seemed an eternity away.
She observed the seven windows which opened into the officers’ rooms. What would happen if only one of them came to his window to catch a breath of fresh air? As she paused in self-doubt, her gaze touched upon the blockhouse at the far end of this structure: that ominous location which contained the reason for her life or death. Her wary gaze thoroughly scanned the rear of this building, yet no human sound invaded her senses.
To her, it all seemed too perfect. She waited at the corner of the building for a long time. Aware of the swift passage of time which could tragically defeat her, she readied herself to accept whatever perilous fate could result. She bent forward and quietly made her way to the other end of this timbered structure, not daring to halt or to glance up in soul-shaking fear of meeting the gaze of one of those officers.
She gingerly peered around the edge of the abode. Alarm washed over her body and rushed into her turbulent mind, for the rest of the distance to the blockhouse was across open space. She leaned against the hard surface of the wooden facade hardly daring to breathe. The back of the blockhouse was constructed against the front and side walls of the mighty fort, offering no secret space or darkness to conceal herself once she approached it.
Without any concern to the health or comfort of captives, the side of the imprisoning structure before her line of vision was windowless. In her horror, she promptly recalled there was only one window in the blockhouse: a small opening near the securely barred door which faced the adjacent supply shed. With this set-up, there was no way she could observe the entrance to the jail or assess its security measures.
Her heart lurched; there was a guard on duty. She nervously watched the man in the navy blue uniform with its yellow trim who had suddenly appeared from between the five feet of empty space which separated the blockhouse from the supply shed. She keenly observed the soldier who indifferently held his long weapon by the tip of the barrel. He sighed heavily as if utterly bored. He aimlessly paced back and forth as if making some critical decision. Unk
nown to the panicky girl, he most assuredly was. What now? she fretted.
As if suddenly sensing eyes upon him, the guard glanced around. She flattened her slender, shapely frame against the rough wall. But in fact, he was simply looking to see if anyone was about to note his rash departure. Time slipped into limbo as she awaited his impending decision which would affect many people. He was sleepy and had decided to go to the cookhouse for some black coffee. After all, he rashly concluded to himself, what could happen in only a few minutes? He casually strolled off in the opposite direction of the cookhouse, fortunately located in the shadowy corner on the other side of the front wall.
The careless guard nonchalantly strolled past the supply shed, the vacant area before the front gates where he roguishly waved to the sentry on duty high above him on the rampart, past the combination doctor’s quarters and infirmary, and into the cookhouse. Rebecca watched him closely and intently. Either her prayers were being answered or something weird was going on! Was she being tricked into exposing herself? Did Timothy suspect her treachery? Was he allowing her to trap herself? No matter, this was the only chance she would have.
She hurried over to the front corner of the building and looked around into the empty courtyard, ecstatic no one was about. In the shadow of the two-story supply shed, she knew the sentry could not spot her. She quietly made her way between this building and the jail. Alertly looking about, she eased to the edge of this new challenge to make certain there was not another guard left behind. Sighting no one to stop her, she rushed over to the door which separated her from her beloved. She lifted the bar off the hooks and hastily opened it. Bright Arrow’s arresting face appeared before her frightened eyes. “Hurry! He’ll be back soon,” she whispered to her Indian lover.
She put the bar back in place, hoping that would prevent a prompt discovery of their actions. He silently followed her over to the back of the tall wooden building. “There are soldiers asleep inside. We must be very quiet. Your father is waiting for you at the big tree. There is a door in the fence,” she whispered, pointing to it. “You must go quickly and silently before the guard returns. Be careful, Bright Arrow,” she fearfully entreated, eyes caressing his face.
“You must come with me,” he stated in clear English.
She sadly shook her head as she softly argued, “It’s too risky. You can move faster without me. I would only slow you down. I’ll join you soon. Your father will explain it to you. Go quickly. I must get back before discovery. I love you, Bright Arrow,” she declared to her warrior.
He kissed her and held her tightly. “I cannot leave you here. You are my heart now. I love you, Rebecca. They will torture you for helping me escape.”
Their eyes met and fused. Harsh laughter broke this romantic spell as the returning guard joked with the sentry. Fear travelled her lovely features. “You must go now. The soldiers will never suspect a mere girl of releasing the awesome Bright Arrow,” she teased to lighten his worries, then continued seriously, “I will come to you later. I promise. I could never live without you. Please hurry before both our lives are endangered.”
“There are many things I do not understand and must know. But I cannot linger to hear them. If you do not return to my arms and tepee, I will come back for you,” he vowed, his mind in turmoil at these confusing events. Yet, he vividly recalled how taken the commanding officer was with his woman. She was right; who would suspect a tiny white girl of this brazen feat of daring and courage?
“You are also my heart. I have no life without you. Your father promised I could remain at your side once I escape,” she softly informed her lover.
He kissed her, then reluctantly made his way to the door. He opened it quietly and was gone. With great care to silence, she hurried back to the window. It was extremely difficult, but she finally found her feet upon the wooden floor inside Timothy’s bedroom. She gingerly pulled the window sash down and replaced the wooden peg. She hurriedly went to the bunk and lay down. It was done. He was free. She dreaded to think of trying to get through the tightened security which his escape would surely bring about in the morning. She closed her eyes and wept, fearing she had seen him for the last time, praying she had not.
“He loves me,” she whispered happily. “At least he loves me…Be happy and free, my love, for I know how special that is.” It was a long time before peaceful slumber could ease her cares and fatigue.
Rebecca yawned and stretched contentedly. She rubbed her heavy eyes and sat up, resting her back against the rough wall. Her puzzled eyes fused with the stormy blue ones of Timothy Moore. He had placed a ladder-back chair near her bed and had straddled it. His arms were folded, resting upon its back; his cleft chin was propped upon his interlocking hands. He was glaring at her. One booted foot began to drum ominously upon the wooden floor. She glanced down at this curious motion, then back up at him. She was utterly perplexed by his odd behavior. For if her part in last night’s treachery had been uncovered, he wouldn’t have waited until mid-morning to seek out the guilty culprit.
“Well?” he demanded harshly. The intensity of his fury made his eyes appear two shades darker than their normal blue. “Did ye sleep well, my lovely angel?” he inquired, his voice terse and his eyes challenging.
She stared at him. “Timothy, is something wrong?” she softly questioned.
“Timothy, is something wrong?” he bitterly mocked her in a frigid tone. “Ye sit there all innocent-lik’ wi’ those doe eyes an’ ask me what’s wrong? I should’av know ye were tae guid tae be true! Ye filthy doxy! Ye cunning bitch! How dare ye mak’ ae fool o’ me! Tell me, Rebecca, whose whore be ye? Gray Eagle’s or Bright Ar’er’s?” he crudely demanded. His eyes blazed with hostility and hatred.
She whitened. “What did you say?” she asked in disbelief and shock.
“Dinna play that innocent, little lass routine on me! I should slit ye lying throat right now. Why dinna ye flee wi’ him?” he snarled, his knuckles blanching white as he balled his hands into tight fists.
“Leave with whom? What are you talking about? What have I done to make you so angry?” she questioned. He knows! her terrified brain warned. What now? What justifiable reason could she offer for releasing him? What monstrous punishment would be meted out for this odious crime? She suddenly recognized the absurdity in Gray Eagle’s crafty plan. She should have fled with her lover. There was no logical reason for her remaining behind! Logical, no; cunning, yes…In the darkness and solitude, why couldn’t she have fled as quietly and quickly as Bright Arrow?
Timothy jumped up, knocking the chair to the floor. He furiously kicked it out of his path. He swaggered forward, slowly and menacingly. Her back to the wall, she could retreat no further. A hand snaked out and landed a stunning slap across her right cheek, sending her senses to whirling wildly and fearfully. “Nothing is more deadly than a crossed man,” her father’s warning echoed from the past.
A livid print was instantly visible. Slender, white welts gradually appeared in the midst of a fiery red background. Blood eased from the corner of her lip and rolled down her trembling chin. She was paralyzed by the brutality of his sudden attack and the awesome animosity which oozed from him. Her wide eyes mirrored her fear and alarm.
“Naught sae cunnin’ an’ brave anymore, are ye, harlot?” he scoffed venomously. “I asked whose whore ye be! Is it Gray Eagle or his son? I’ll brook nae more lies,” he stormed at the frightened girl.
“Neither,” she replied in a tremulous voice. Her shaking hand went up to her stinging cheek. She touched the blood which flowed from her throbbing lip. She peered down at her crimson-tinged fingers. She paled and shuddered, unable to pull her gaze from them.
Timothy grabbed a handful of auburn hair and harshly yanked her head backwards, forcing her terrified gaze to lock with his belligerent one. She cried out in pain and alarm. Tears filled her panicked eyes. “For all ye cunnin’ deceit, whore, ye overlooked one thing. My own eyes followed ye trail all the way tae an’ froe the blockhouse
. Ye see, me lovely traitor; tae avoid the dust, the yard is swept each night wi’ ae brush-broom after my men turn in. Ye tracks were as clear as ae sunny dae!”
He seized her slender wrists and held her hands up before her ashen face. “Ye should hae washed the blood off ye hands an’ my window peg. Tae, ye smeared the dust on the window sill climbin’ in an’ out. Yer crime is as naked as the dae ye was born. I’m nae fool, whore. The only thing which puzzles me is why ye stayed behind. What’s the plan tae get ye out safely?” he demanded.
Trapped, she knew her fate was sealed. What a blind and stupid fool she had been! With one sly ploy, Gray Eagle’s son was both free of his white captors and of his white captive! Tricked! Deceived! Betrayed!
Timothy yanked upon her hair again, forcing her to cry out in anguish. He laughed harshly. “That be naught compared tae wha’ ye’ll soon suffer, whore. Ye owe me an’ my men plenty. We’ll collect ye debts afore we toss ye body out tae him,” he threatened.
She wasn’t afraid to die, but to endure degradation first…She closed her eyes. Those telltale tracks denied any hope of using fresh air as an excuse for opening the window last night. Tears joined the trail of blood, dropping steadily to her dress. “Believe it or not, Timothy, but it couldn’t be helped. I’m…sorry,” she whispered softly.
“Sorry!” he thundered at her. “Ye dinna know wha’ it is tae be sorry yet! The only regret ye hae is being discovered sae ye canna return tae his mats! Why, damn ye?” he exploded. “Ye be white, nae Injun!”
Tender Ecstasy Page 27