Banishment had been a difficult and heavy burden for each of them! In the beginning, she had believed he was unintentionally making it worse for himself and his family. But could she say that now? No. Were his bruised pride and bitterness causing him to punish all of them? Had he made any attempt at reconciliation with his people? Did he erroneously believe that he deserved this cruel treatment? Had he selected this nearly deserted area to insure their safety, or to prevent contact with his past friends and allies? They had done nothing wrong! Who were his people to judge and to ostracize them! How long would it be before Bright Arrow admitted that his tribe would never send for them! Frustration and anger chewed at Rebecca, and she became furious because his exile was destroying their happiness and she felt utterly helpless.
Rebecca couldn’t even recall the last time she had seen or spoken with another female. As for their girls, only their eldest daughter had seen another child since birth—once! If they couldn’t attend school, she wanted books with which to teach them. How could they survive if Bright Arrow were injured or became gravely ill? What would happen to her family if she fell ill or died, or to her children if she and her husband were both taken with a fever as her parents had been? This isolation could be fatal for all of them. It was lonely and unnecessary, and the winters locked inside the cabin were an added burden.
She had been patient, loving, supportive, and understanding. But now these emotions and traits were strained. They needed friends for emotional nourishment. They needed neighbors for diversion and for assistance in times of hardship or peril. They needed supplies. This life of barely existing was aging them too quickly. How could her husband ignore these emotional and physical necessities? How long could they go on this way? She had been willing to deny herself to live with his people. Why shouldn’t he do the same for her, as it was his people who had rejected them? Could she demand a better life for them, a life near a white settlement or with another friendly tribe? Would that demand lance this festering boil? Would it excise and cleanse its putrid infection? Did she dare?
As the humid day sluggishly crawled toward late afternoon, Rebecca’s nerves became frayed from the stuffiness and the girls’ whimperings. Any attempt to entertain them was met with defiance and fussiness. Annoyingly low on supplies, she could not distract them with a treat. Even if he despised the whites, Rebecca told herself, her husband would soon have to trade for their needs. He had been so strange these last months, refusing to go near any white for any reason. Yet his blunted hunting skills had brought home little meat, and they had great need of other supplies, supplies which were vanishing as rapidly as her spirits.
The heat of the cabin seemed only to increase her smoldering ire. Rebecca tossed aside caution and opened the door for fresh air. That action served to enlarge her misery, for the two older girls darted past her to play chase outside. Even Tashina bubbled with laughter and rapidly toddled in the direction of freedom and her sisters’ giggles. For the first time, she almost wished she didn’t have any children, children who prevented her escape from this soul-draining place. She immediately chided herself for thinking such evil and selfish thoughts.
Rebecca sighed heavily and pursued them. When she attempted to force them back inside, she was met with screams and rebellion. Clearly the children were as moody and bored as she was. She could hardly blame them, for Bright Arrow had been away since dawn. It was nearing five, and the locked cabin was unbearable.
Surely he would return at any moment. Besides, they rarely saw anyone out here, friendly or hostile, other than a few men passing by on their way westward past the Black Hills or eastward to the Lake Traverse Trading Post. At those times, all she was allowed to do was serve refreshments or a brief meal. If an amiable man spent the night, it was outside with her husband on sleeping rolls. How she missed polite or stimulating conversation, warm smiles, exciting news!
Surely there was no harm in taking the girls to play and to cool themselves in the nearby stream? Someone had to be concerned with their happiness and health! As a precaution, Rebecca took the loaded gun which Bright Arrow had bought from Jean Truteau of the Spanish Trading Company, where her husband made most of his purchases or exchanges.
Because he had been taught from birth to kill the Great Spirit’s creatures only for food or clothing or other necessities, Bright Arrow had refused to trap or shoot more animals than necessary for their survival. Instead, he traded the “shiny yellow rocks,” which he found along the riverbanks near the Black Hills, or the lovely rose quartz for any necessities that they could not make or find. Though he had been offered many supplies in exchange for red stone, he had refused to give the white man the special stone which was used for pipes and other objects. The red stone grounds were sacred, but neutral, territory for any tribe. Rebecca had tried to explain such matters to her husband, but Bright Arrow had claimed he couldn’t understand why the white men were so greedy for colored rocks. He had declared that the whites were a strange and devious breed who no doubt thought the rocks held Indian magic and power. He could be such a superstitious creature at times! she had mused.
When they had first moved into this area years before, Bright Arrow had been determined to prove they could survive without his people, survive on his courage and cunning. For the defense of his family, he had bargained for two guns, ball, powder, flints, two hatchets, and several sturdy knives. For his home and wife, he had traded for sewing implements, cooking kettles, salt, flour, blankets, cloth, and personal items which had brought smiles to her lips and doelike eyes. To make his home safer and stronger, he had purchased two hammers, a saw, an awl, nails, and other tools. In order to gather the coveted yellow and pink rocks more easily and rapidly and hurry home to his family, he had traded for a pickaxe. Then early this year, he had changed drastically. He began avoiding all whites and had refused to trade with them. She wondered why.
As Little Feet and Moon Eyes splashed and laughed beside her, Rebecca held Tashina’s hands while she wiggled her toes into the sand at the bottom of the creek. When the shadows began to lengthen, Rebecca firmly told the girls it was time to return home. Fatigued and refreshed, they all complied without a fuss. Rebecca lifted Tashina into her arms and headed down the path with the other girls trailing her closely. She sighed happily, for it had been a pleasant outing.
Once inside, Rebecca fed Tashina while Little Feet and Moon Eyes gaily feasted with their fingers on the last of the wild berries that she had gathered. That was one distracting task she had sorely missed, for in the past when she had gone to gather wild fruits and vegetables, Bright Arrow had been compelled to go along and spend time with her. She couldn’t go alone, and lately he had appeared reluctant to escort her. No doubt, she mused bitterly, because such outings had been fun, even romantic, in the past!
She was grateful that her girls were good eaters and that they hadn’t rebelled at the lack of variety in their diets. As soon as the meal was consumed, Rebecca put the girls to bed, smiling and kissing each child. To her surprise and relief, all three were asleep within minutes, and love surged through her as she watched them.
Her children were deeply ensnared by slumber, their faces glowing in the soft light of the lantern burning low in the back corner. Suddenly she was assailed by terrible loneliness and a fierce hunger that had nothing to do with food. She wished as she had so many times before that Bright Arrow would not spend so much time avoiding her or so much energy pretending nothing was wrong. Once winter had passed, he had spent as many hours outside as possible, feigning masculine chores. At night, only his body lay beside her, for his spirit and mind roamed territories which she wasn’t allowed to share. He might as well leave and return to his people, she thought, for he wasn’t here with her.
Rebecca walked to the doorway and gazed outside. As surely as the moon was shining, the end was near for them, if some drastic act didn’t stir him from his daze. As her tawny eyes surveyed the view, she rested her smooth cheek against the door jamb. A full moon illuminate
d the clearing around the cabin, reminding her of the many nights she had shared a sleeping mat with her love as the moon shone down upon them.
Concern edged into her overcrowded mind. She mellowed as she pondered her life without Bright Arrow, despite his present state. There had been so much love and passion between them, and she wanted it back. Would it ever be the same between them again?
Rebecca wanted and needed to talk for she yearned to solve their problems. She wondered what was preventing her husband’s return; it was unusual for him to remain away after dark. Unless he went to retrieve more gold or to bargain with the traders, he was never late. If he had been any man except Bright Arrow, she would worry. Then again, she reasoned, he hadn’t been himself in a long time…
It was past nine. The lovely hues of sunset had faded to a dull glow beyond the treetops. Every few minutes the shade of blue above her deepened. Soon it would be dark, save for the full moon that tonight resembled a pale sun. From the noises nearby, she knew that night creatures were moving about in search of food and exercise. Nocturnal insects, frogs, and birds were beginning their musical serenade. Trees moved sleepily in the mild breeze, creating ghostly shadows upon the earth. It was as if Nature were issuing an irresistible, provocative invitation to join her merry and carefree adventure.
Rebecca was not a timorous person. She had courageously confronted danger many times. Having lived in the wilderness with her parents until age fifteen, she had then endured the harsh life in a bawdy roadhouse with her uncle. She had lived as a prisoner in an Indian camp and had survived a brutal sojourn at a fort. In spite of her slim size and sex, she was strong and agile. She possessed guts and mettle. She could fire a gun, use a knife, and fight like a wildcat. And although she was normally a sensible person, concern and tension were building inside Rebecca, emotions which belied a clear head and caution.
Without thinking of peril, she strolled outside. Humming softly, she began to whirl and dance in the moonlit clearing with an invisible partner, freeing her mind and body. Time and troubles fled. Floral scents drifted to her on the currents of night air, and an aura of sensual romance and daring filled the surroundings. She removed the thongs on her long braids and loosened her chestnut hair. She ran her fingers through it until it hung free and wavy around her shoulders. Her bare feet seemed to caress the ground. Within her fanciful mind, she imagined the music from the roadhouse in St. Louis. She envisioned how the laughing girls had melted over the lusty customers like butter beneath a blazing sun.
Erotic messages filtered through her dreamy senses as she mentally searched for a means of cooling her fiery passions. Her hands yearned to glide over her husband’s virile body as it had been years ago. Imagining it, her body tingled and warmed with rising desire. She thought back to the past, and, as she called his face and frame to mind, her respiration quickening at that potent vision of masculinity, such a heady blend of strength and gentleness. Recalling his skills upon the sleeping mat, she allowed a soft moan of desire to escape her lips. She longed for her love to join her, the love whom she had met and wed…
As if capturing and sharing her sensations, the moonlight played upon Rebecca’s head with shimmers of silvery red. Despite the fact that she had borne three children, her body was sleek and firm. Her breasts were supple beneath the faded blue cotton dress. Her sun-kissed complexion was unmarred by illness or the weather and her golden brown eyes were gentle, concealing her inner turbulence. Any male, Indian or white, would consider her a breathtaking creature. Time had increased her beauty and shaped her body, as it had increased her sensual appetite and skill. Her body and mind were alive with need and she vowed she would not permit him to ignore or deny her when he came home! She would refresh his memory of the nights they had known together! As she swayed and dreamed with her eyes closed, her eagerness for Bright Arrow mounted and her annoyance with him disappeared.
Abruptly a dirty, moist hand clamped her lips and a strong arm securely banded her chest, pinning her arms to her sides and stifling her instinctive scream. Her eyes opened and her head jerked sideways in an attempt to see her attacker. She struggled futilely as the man’s grip tightened unnecessarily. Terror seized and cleared her dreamy mind. She knew it was not her husband trying to teach her a lesson, for it was not his distinctive and heady odor which filled her nostrils. The stench of filthy clothes and a sweaty body warned her of danger. Her horror increased as her senses registered the presence of another male standing in the shadows, motioning for his partner to drag her into that stygian dimness where he seemed to lurk as Evil Incarnate.
Her heart pounded wildly, playing havoc with her wits and respiration. She kicked at the male behind her, though her bare feet caused him no pain. She squirmed feverishly to free herself from his grip, until his muffled threat stilled and silenced her.
“If’n you wants yore chilluns and half-breed man to keep safe, you best hold your tongue and arms mighty quiet, squaw,” he warned ominously. “If’n yore pretty mouth brings anybody out that door, big er little, they’s dead. You savvy?” he sneered, shaking her.
Rebecca nodded and complied with his frightening order, but her trembling legs balked as she was taken into the darkness of the trees. The foul-smelling villain chuckled wickedly as he detected her quivering. She heard him smack his lips in anticipation of some dark deed.
Once enclosed by the forest, his pudgy fingers released her. She was prevented from fleeing, for she was trapped in a triangle of two males and a sturdy pine. She stifled the shriek that tried to slip between her clenched teeth. Her children, her sweet and innocent girls, were in danger. With Bright Arrow gone, she knew she must protect them herself, but she was still too shocked and alarmed to think clearly or quickly.
“Billy Culpepper ain’t lied, Jess; she’s prettier,’an a flower in full bloom. Shame we got us ‘mportant business in these here parts.” As the man spoke, his left hand boldly moved over her breasts, halting to cup and squeeze each one in turn. “Don’t you worry none, pretty squaw; we ain’t here to hurt no one. Soon’s we gits some of them yeller rocks, we’ll be gone quicker ‘an a rabbit outruns a hawk. You just do as yore told.” Lester Paul was aroused by the beauty and allure of the young woman before him. His eyes glazed and his hands quivered with lust. “Course, if’n I had time, you might like what I has right here,” he whispered close to her ear as he forced her hand to caress his hardened manhood. “I heard them half-red studs er somethin’ to keep around if’n you got real fire in yore privates,” he teased crudely. “Ain’t that right?” he demanded, a nipple trapped between each of his thumbs and forefingers. Lester chuckled as she tried to shove away his hands. “A man don’t take kindly to sharing his goods.”
Rebecca remained stiff and alert, mentally cursing these two men and condemning them to death and Hell. But his words alerted her to his motive for being here tonight—robbery. She had feared that someone would come looking for them and the gold, but her husband had sworn he had never left a trail or clue for anyone to follow.
Who was this Culpepper who had told them about Bright Arrow, his family, and the gold? What would they do when they learned he wasn’t home and she had no gold or valuables to give them? Obviously, they thought her husband was inside the cabin; that meant they had not ambushed him earlier to carry out their crime. What would they do if they learned that Clay Rivera was actually the exiled Sioux warrior Bright Arrow? Where was her husband when his family was in danger? Why had she rashly left the cabin? She anxiously waited and listened for a chance to escape.
“Jess, you go fetch that half-breed Rivera. If’n he wants his squaw returned, he’d best turn over his bags and tell us the location of his gold diggings. Cain’t be much of a man anyways with that Spanish and Crow blood in ‘im. Yep, we’s gonna be rich men afore this night’s o’er. You be careful now. Some men don’t hold they’s squaws high. Course this’un’s somethin’ to fight and die fur. If’n we hafta, we’ll plug ‘em all and take ever nugget,” the man stated coldly,
although Rebecca didn’t believe they would actually carry out such pernicious threats, which surely had been spoken to terrorize and intimidate her.
“Listen ‘ere, Lester Paul, don’t be sending me into a dark cabin. This here’s yore plan; you take the cabin while I holds this she-cat. You know them Crow snakes is sneaky,” Jess argued tensely. “You remember what Culpepper tol’ us? Clay Rivera nearly chopped off his hand when he tried to sneak just one gold nugget off his pile.”
“Billy Culpepper’s a fool, Jess. He’s tough and sly, but he gave Rivera the drop on ‘im. You know them crazy ideas he has. ‘Sides, we got us something to trade,” he remarked smugly as he pinched her cheeks. He laughed as she winced and jerked away. “These here hands are gonna be touchin’ gold or blood before I leave,” he vowed irritably.
“What if’n it’s yore blood?” Jess speculated. “What’s Martha gonna do then? You’s the leader; you fetch ‘im.”
It was plain to Rebecca that at least the younger man was afraid of “Clay.” And she prayed that the other was more talk than action. Unfortunately, Rebecca had been away from civilization too long, and she had forgotten the depth of some men’s evil and brutality.
“You yeller, Jess Thomas? He’s got babies and his woman to protect. He ain’t gonna fight us. Git going, boy. We got us a long ride. Think of all the women and whiskey we kin buy with his gold,” Lester hinted to sway his partner, whom Lester knew to be somewhat lacking in intelligence. Lester had seen the sullen Rivera in a fight at the trading post, and he wanted no part of him.
Stolen Ecstasy Page 3