Defiant Ecstasy

by Janelle Taylor

  As she and Powchutu walked along, Alisha felt strangely detached from the whole scene. Her thoughts were on what awaited her outside those massive gates, the revenge of Wanmdi Hota. They halted by the gateway to her destiny to allow the guards to open them just enough for them to pass through. Her eyes alit on Kathy Brown’s as she stood nearby, smiling triumphantly and cynically.

  She studied the embittered, pathetic girl. They had travelled in the same wagon train from Pennsylvania to South Dakota. Yet, during all that time and all those hardships, Kathy had rejected her friendship. She had done everything in her power to cause trouble for Alisha. They were the only two people left alive, not counting their scout who had left long ago, from their fortress. At Gray Eagle’s camp, Kathy’s jealousy and hatred had grown by leaps and bounds. She had refused to see Alisha’s real treatment. All she saw was the fact that Alisha shared the chief’s son’s teepee, that Gray Eagle had chosen Alisha for his personal captive. Gray Eagle’s looks and position had increased Kathy’s anger toward Alisha. Kathy had been available to any brave, and yet Alisha belonged only to the handsome and virile Gray Eagle. Kathy was the one who had told Fort Pierre about Alisha’s help to Gray Eagle, that she had actually pulled a gun on the men at their fortress in order to halt his beating and death. To make matters worse for Kathy, the Fort Pierre officers had treated her as a whore, but Alisha with respect.

  “I hope this vengeance tastes very sweet to you, Kathy. You surely worked hard enough for it. Just remember one thing: while you sleep with every bit of scum in this fort, I will be sleeping with only one man—the brave and handsome Gray Eagle.”

  For once, Kathy was totally speechless. How dare Alisha pretend she was better than Kathy? ...

  The gates closed behind them. She listened as the huge bar fell heavily back into place. She was being shut out of their lives; and they, from hers. But the inhabitants of the fort did not realize that destiny had just sealed all of their fates. Alisha was free and safe; the fort was helpless. The warriors realized that things were going just as the Great Spirit had shown them in their joint-vision.

  They walked a short distance away from the fort, just out of earshot of its traitorous inhabitants. Powchutu tugged at Alisha’s elbow and halted her steps. She lifted inquiring eyes to his pain-filled ones. His heart was aching at her obvious anguish and raging at his inability to help her. They both sensed that this might be their last time to talk.

  She stood beside him in the bright morning light, wishing that time could be suspended. She lifted her face up to the sun and inhaled deeply several times, trying to calm her racing heart and to bring some small measure of comprehension into her confused brain. The need to show courage and dignity was past.

  Powchutu could read the desperation and hopelessness in her eyes. He cursed both the Indians and the white men for what they were doing to her, for never had there been one so beautiful and blameless as she. The abject voice which spoke to him sliced his heart more quickly and expertly than his own hunting knife could have done.

  “How is such injustice and hatred possible, Powchutu? Why can’t he leave me alone? Why must he continue to torment me this way? He has even turned my own people against me.”

  He lowered his head, ashamed for his own guiltless part in her sufferings. “How can I explain what I do not understand myself? The Great Spirit will surely punish all of them for this dishonorable deed.”

  Alisha felt as if her tender heart was being pierced with countless arrows. “My whole life has gone topsy-turvy in only a few short months. I have seen such evil in this land, in these people. I hate the ugliness which surrounds me here. I hate what they have done to me. Worst of all, I hate these feelings of hatred and revenge which they have instilled within me.”

  He studied the face of the English girl that he had come to love more than life itself. He wondered at the changes that she had brought into his life and heart. He, a half-breed scout, was in love with a white girl, a white girl who was imprisoned in heart and body to the fiercest warrior of all time. She was right; how could such a tragic injustice be possible? Powchutu’s thoughts raced back to a day not so very long ago when she had come into his life, broken in spirit and in body. He could not imagine how Gray Eagle had brought himself to torture such a fragile woman. Now, he had the gall to return to demand her surrender to him.

  Powchutu looked longingly into her misty eyes and spoke from his heart, “I will pray to both our gods that he will not harm you this time. He is no fool, Alisha. He knows that you cannot be blamed for the raid upon his camp.”

  She shook her head sadly, auburn curls swaying at her shoulders. “But he can and will blame me. To him, I am white, his enemy. My innocence or guilt will not matter to him. They never have before. Leave this evil land, Powchutu. There is no place for freedom or happiness here. And no place for dreams either . . .”

  He answered softly, “Only when you are free to come with me.”

  The sun had slowly climbed higher and higher, until it was almost directly over head. The midday air was arid and motionless. She stood halfway between the long rows of painted warriors and the tall, spiked fence of the fort. Both the warriors and the soldiers watched the strange and tender scene between the beautiful white girl and the half-breed scout. What was causing their delay? Why did the scout not bring the girl who was said to be a gift from Wakantanka to the great warrior Gray Eagle?

  The people inside the fort became very nervous and angry as more time passed and Alisha did not make a move to go to the waiting warrior.

  The warriors were greatly baffled by the girl’s actions. If eyes could be trusted, she and the scout were friends. But why would a white girl trust any Indian, even a half-breed, after what Wanmdi Hota had done to her and to her people? This attitude was indeed strange. Perhaps Wanmdi Hota’s torture had sent her mind to dwell in another land . . .

  Gray Eagle alertly studied the expressions which came and went on Alisha’s and the scout’s faces. He did not like the look of tenderness and love which she sent to the scout; those should be for him alone! He inwardly flinched each time that she gazed up into his face with that warm look that he knew so well. From what he could see, she appeared to be pleading with him. But, why? Surely not for help? What chance did he have against all of them? Soon, Gray Eagle became tense. This waiting, after these tormenting weeks of loneliness and separation, was getting to him. Only his many years of training and practice kept it hidden from the eyes of the others.

  At last, Alisha looked out toward the warriors. She let her gaze slowly travel the long lines of warriors and colorfully arrayed chiefs. They seemed to spread out endlessly, threateningly, upon the vast blue horizon. They sat so still and erect that they looked like one colorful, gigantic mural hung across the massive skyline.

  Gray Eagle once more held her fate within his powerful hands, but were they merciful ones? Even after all the time she had spent with him, she could not answer. She felt betrayed by her people and by him; she felt betrayed by herself. There would never be another rescue or escape; he would make certain.

  She looked at her friend. She knew that she would always love and remember him. Powchutu had done so much for her. If the occasion ever called for it, she would lay down her very life for him. Alisha studied the awesome sight before her, thinking of the people inside the fort. Each one of them had their own selfish reason for her being here now, facing God knows what. Their hatred, jealousy, and fear were once again placing her at Gray Eagle’s power and mercy.

  “Even during his worst hatred and cruelty, Powchutu, he never hurt me or abused me like my own people have done. The pain and humiliation that I have felt here would not compare with what I knew in his camp. They call themselves the civilized ones! They are far more savage and brutal than he ever was. I must find the courage to do as he commands. I will not give him any more reasons to hurt me or punish me. They demand that I return to him, so I really have no choice but to do so and to hope for a truce between us.
Oh, I’m so frightened; my legs refuse to move.”

  Yes, she was frightened; she feared and dreaded the coming time when she would be tested for her courage and obedience. The problem was that pain had a curious way of dimming with time; yet, love and its memories had the same way of growing greater. The events of danger, pain, and death had gradually receded to a far distance in her mind, just like the shores of England had done many months ago.

  She had but to close her eyes to visualize his smile. How long could she have resisted or ignored him when he had forced her to sleep within his heated embrace? When he had forbidden anyone else to harm her? When he had seduced her with such passion and tenderness and completeness? When she was forced to comprehend that he was defying his own conscience and people to hold her captive in his own teepee? There had usually existed a warm and relaxed truce within his teepee. He had been gentle and playful as he had taught her some of his tongue, as they had both worked on their separate chores, and as they had shared meals.

  There had been those countless times when he had shown her such a different side of his nature, only to have the warrior image return when in public. There had been that time when he had personally doctored the bloody pricks on her hands from the porcupine quills. There had been that day when a trapper, thinking her an Indian maiden, had tried to ravish her, that day when White Arrow had killed him to save her. But Gray Eagle had been the one to care for her injuries and to comfort her. She could recall the day when she had been caught in a violent thunderstorm while gathering wood. He had searched for her, found her, and protected her with his own body. The memory of their following lovemaking among the tall grasses and fragrant wildflowers during that storm had always remained alive and green within her heart. They had both been relaxed and happy with each other; they had laughed and loved in the rain. If all their days could have been that way...

  The day had come when she had discovered herself waiting and watching for his returns from hunts and raids, when she had recognized her undeniable desire and love for him, when she had realized the futility and pain of that forbidden love, when she had cried because she was not Oglala, when she had come to hunger for him both physically and emotionally, and when she had dared to escape from his loving torment.

  She could not admit that he had always been gentle and forgiving after all of her previous defiances and punishments. Things had always returned to some form of truce between them. Many times she had knowingly or innocently forced him to be cruel toward her. His desire for her had been obvious to even her naive mind. Yet he would not love her or publicly accept her as his woman. It had only made her more understanding and susceptible when Powchutu had told her the truth and the motives behind so many of his decisions and actions. Tragically she could understand and accept him as a man, but he could not ever offer her the same.

  Their last night together, before she had foolishly and fearfully fled his camp, before he had punished her at the icapsinte by whipping her unconscious, there had been a strangeness in the atmosphere of his teepee and within both of them. They had joined with flaming passion, with a seemingly total giving and taking. Never had he been so consumed with her, even whispering soft Oglala words into her ear. She had been intoxicated by him. Later, he had returned to being her captor. Watching the warmth leave his handsome face and his stoic expression return, she had finally faced the truth of his treacherous and demanding love, and the betrayal of her own body and heart. Then escape had seemed her only choice.

  All her plans had been for naught; she had been no match for the wilderness or his pursuit. She pictured his face that morning when he had caught up with her, that he had arrived in time to save her life. Never had she seen such anger and determination in him. There had been an alien reluctance in his manner on their return to his camp. Even when he had punished her, there had been a strange kind of anger in him; there had been a fleeting look of sadness, hesitation, and bitterness in his last look at her. At that time, she had been too terrified and too hurt to see it. She had lost consciousness during her punishment. For some reason, Gray Eagle and the warriors had left camp that day; Jeffery had raided it during their absence. Six days later she had awakened at the fort and had begun a new existence of contempt and abuse at the hands of its inhabitants.

  As if walking to her death, Alisha’s life passed before her eyes. She was leaving one hellish existence to enter another. She had changed much in her sojourns, but neither the white nor the red people had. Those in the fort were the same; the Indians were the same. Gray Eagle was still her captor; he was still her enemy. Things would either be the same as before in his camp, or they would be worse.

  God help me, she sadly prayed, for I have lost my heart and soul to a brutal savage who will not allow the hatred between us to disappear. Please let there be just a little peace between us . . .

  Chapter Two

  Powchutu called her from her train of thought, “It is time to go, Alisha.” He gently pulled her wrists out before her and bound them with the rawhide thongs. She offered no resistance to her friend. She only stared down at the dusty ground, hoping the day and its events would soon be over. He held out the leash and lifted her long hair to place it around her neck. Her eyes blazed at the sight of the bestial lariat. She grabbed the leash and angrily threw it to the ground in contempt. She had forgotten this humiliating demand. Gray Eagle could take her with her hands bound only, or he could strike her dead here! But she vowed she would not allow that lasso around her neck.

  “No! I will not be led by a neck rope like an animal before all these people,” she said furiously.

  Powchutu tried to reason with her, telling her she must permit him to put the leash on her. “They have demanded you be brought to him bound and led like a prisoner. His pride and power are at stake, Alisha. Do not refuse. I beg you.”

  “Damn his pride and my non-existent honor! I won’t let them do this to me! It is too much to ask or demand of anyone. I might be a sacrificial lamb, but I will not be treated like one! Never!” she shrieked.

  Gray Eagle watched the scene in fearful anticipation of her refusal. He thought, for once, Lese, do not defy me and shame me before them. I know and feel your hurt and shame, but it must be this way for both our sakes. Even if you were not in firing range of the fort, I could not come for you. You must come to me!

  He watched her argue and plead with the scout. He could see the scout was trying his best to get her to do as she had been commanded. I should have ridden closer and picked her up, he thought. There is much loss of face in what I have ordered her to do. Surely they will all see we are enemies. Her people must hurt and bleed for her shame and mine. It would be far too tempting for one of them to shoot me if I dared to go to her. I would be dead and she would be the captive of another.

  Gray Eagle had guessed wrong about the majority of people in the fort. They did not hurt or feel mercy for her. They felt only fear and anger at her refusal to do as she was told.

  Powchutu pleaded, “He must force you to cower in fear and humiliation before the warriors. To refuse would be dangerous for you and the fort. Please, Alisha, do not defy him this time.”

  She lashed out in torment, “Why should I care about the fort or the people inside it? They don’t care if he kills me or only punishes me! They only want to save themselves. I hate them all, Powchutu! One day they’ll pay for acts like this!”

  Powchutu urged her not to provoke Gray Eagle. “You will be the one to feel his anger, Alisha, not them. Do as he says. It will soon be over. It will prove to them you spoke the truth. It is but a short walk and I will be at your side. Trust me, it is for the best. Does it really matter what they think?”

  She met his gaze. She knew he was right and was only thinking of her safety. “It matters what I feel and think, Powchutu. How much more humiliation do I have to endure? Why does he wish to hurt and shame me time and time again?” Tears spilled down her cheeks as she leaned over to retrieve the leash. She pulled it over her head in su
bmission and straightened her hair. She handed the other end to Powchutu and said, “Let’s go and get this over with . . .” Both Powchutu and Gray Eagle sighed with relief. The people inside the fort relaxed. The other warriors were aware she displayed courage and wisdom, not fear, with her submission. She was not only beautiful, but intelligent and brave.

  Her eyes scanned the horizon and rested on Gray Eagle. He was the pinnacle of masculinity and power. She couldn’t help but notice his dignity and noble bearing. Uncontrollably, a look of pride and pleasure at his overpowering magnetism and status briefly crossed her face. It did not go unnoticed by him, even at that distance.

  She realized anew he had a way of making everyone and everything around him dim or disappear with his very presence. Their eyes met and locked. His seemed to bore into her very soul. For a minute, that tingling, warm sensation spread throughout her body, until it was smothered by mistrust and anger. He noted the panic she was trying hard to suppress. She gazed at the numerous warriors surrounding him.

  “What would he do if I turned and ran back into the fort and refused to let them all use me this way?” She whispered bitterly, “Hewouldn’t have to do anything. Those people, my people, would only refuse to let me back in. They would laugh. He would be furious, and I would suffer the consequences. It’s too late. Let’s go . . .”

  Powchutu wished with all his aching heart he could whisk her away to safety and freedom, out of all their reach. He walked slowly at her side, careful not to pull on the neck leash.

  As they neared Gray Eagle, she whispered to the scout, “We are very much alike, Powchutu. We’re both trapped in the middle of a no-man’s land, hated by both sides.”

  He pondered her logic and nodded agreement. As they approached the warrior on his horse, Alisha slightly faltered and slowed her pace, casting her eyes downward. She stopped when Powchutu did, but did not look up at Gray Eagle right away. Her heart raced madly at the thought of looking into those obsidian eyes once more. She could feel the aura of his power and nearness.