Stolen Ecstasy

by Janelle Taylor

  The women unloaded the horses. Rebecca instructed her children to remain with Bonnie until she returned, and Sucoora told Windrider’s children the same. Rebecca took the reins of one horse and Sucoora took the other; they headed back to camp to dismantle and fetch the tepee. Tansia sat down in a grassy spot to play with the bundle of red trade beads she had just picked up as she walked from the camp. When sticky liquid clung to her fingers, she rubbed them in the grass…

  By nightfall, the women had their one tepee camp in place. The children were fed and put on their sleeping mats. It was unusual for a foe to raid at night, but just in case one did, Rebecca suggested they take turns guarding the tepee and the horses that were hobbled outside. She took the first watch, too distressed to sleep. While the others surrendered to slumber, she stood outside with a gun in her hands. The night breeze was cool across her face and arms. As she glanced at the dark tepee points against the moonlit horizon, her heartbeat and respiration began to race. She dreaded to imagine what the next two weeks would bring.

  Before dawn, the trader was dead, and the insidious disease had already begun its incubation period in many of the Cheyenne. Soon, the whole camp would know Rebecca and Bonnie had spoken the awesome truth, but it would be too late to change their courses of action. Many would believe that they would not survive unless they thwarted the evil, vengeful spells the two white women had cast…

  Chapter Fifteen

  According to Bonnie, it was the morning of September fifth. The three women silently watched the trader’s body being hauled away from camp. Bright Arrow and Windrider had been gone for two days, and Rebecca was glad, for both men surely would have examined the trader and gotten the disease. She was grateful for Bonnie’s arrival. If she had not been there, Rebecca would have felt compelled to doctor the white man and, in doing so, she would have condemned herself and her family to agonizing deaths. She reflected on Bright Arrow’s statements about Bonnie and Windrider’s vision. Indeed, Bonnie had tried to help the Cheyenne, but they had denied her the opportunity. If in some mysterious way the vision were true, what could be more painful or saddening than a smallpox epidemic?

  Again, Bonnie warned both women to keep everyone in the camp away from them and the children. She added seriously, “If you want your families to survive, you had better shoot anyone who refuses to stay clear of this tepee or the children. Some of them are walking dead folks but don’t know it,” she commented dryly.

  Later that day, Shooting Star tried to deliver half a slain deer to provide game as he had promised Bright Arrow and Windrider. Sucoora begged him not to approach their area or leave the meat. He protested what he called the silly madness that had come over the entire tepee of Windrider. Finally he left, carrying the meat back to camp to share with another family in need. After all, promise or no promise, he couldn’t force the women to accept the food or his protection.

  Chief Yellow Robe had met with the council the night before and had related the white women’s words of warning and advice. The men had laughed and dismissed their nonsense. The council had instructed everyone to leave the women alone until the madness left their minds and they returned to camp. If they needed help or food, all they had to do was cease their foolish behavior and ask.

  Later that afternoon, Windrider’s two girls and Rebecca’s two older daughters were playing with Tansia’s small tepee, travois, and dolls. Tashina and Silent Thunder were with Bonnie. Rebecca walked by the four girls on her way to fetch water and gather wood. It had been agreed that two women would remain nearby at all times to defend their camp and health.

  Rebecca glanced at the girls and smiled as she passed them. Then suddenly something unfamiliar registered in her distracted mind. Abruptly she halted and whirled around, her heart drumming wildly. Racing back to them and dropping to her knees, she snatched the small pouch from Tansia’s hand and shouted, “Where did you get this?”

  Frightened and confused, Tansia stared at her sister, Pretty Rabbit. Rebecca had spoken in English, so the child did not know what she had done to incur this anger. Rebecca yelled for Sucoora to come over and question the seven-year-old. At Tansia’s reply, Rebecca burst into sobs, and Bonnie came running over to question this odd behavior.

  Rebecca brought her fury and tears under control, feeling the weight of a terrible burden on her shoulders. Once again, she had failed to protect her children. Perhaps she didn’t deserve them! “It was all for nothing, Bonnie. Look at this,” she murmured dejectedly. “Somebody dropped them. Tansia picked them up while we were leaving camp. They’re trade beads. His…” she groaned, the word explaining everything.

  Bonnie hurriedly flooded her mind with all she knew about this vicious disease, She had to help these people she had grown to care for and respect. She had to use her skills and knowledge. Taking the pouch from Rebecca, she tossed it into the fire. “Make sure they don’t have any beads hidden anywhere. Ask Tansia where she kept them, and burn whatever they’ve touched. We’ll need to boil water and scrub all of the children. We’ve got to get rid of everything that’s contaminated. Ask her if Silent Thunder or Tashina have played with the beads.”

  Rebecca and Sucoora rapidly questioned the four girls. When they gave Bonnie the answers, she sighed heavily. “After we handle all this, we need to keep these girls away from the other two children. If they haven’t been exposed yet, the best time to take the illness is after the fever strikes and the rash appears. I’m safe, so I’ll doctor any child who gets ill. Once you’ve had this illness and survived, you can’t get it again,” she informed the two women who were hanging on her every word and expression.

  Rebecca stared at her. “You’ve had it? You can’t get it again even if you touch it?” she probed curiously.

  “When I was thirteen, my father treated a patient with it. My mother and I caught it. She died a few days before I started getting well. Sometimes it leaves terrible scars. I have a few small ones on my legs and arms, but I was lucky; my face wasn’t marked.”

  The three women carried out Bonnie’s instructions, using sticks to avoid touching anything unless absolutely necessary. “All we can do now is wait and pray,” Bonnie announced wearily.

  “You two take care of the children while I go set a few rabbit snares,” Rebecca suggested, aware they needed food for the next day and wanting to be alone. “I’ll fetch water and wood when I return.” She smiled faintly at both women and thanked them for their help and friendship. Her misty gaze lingered briefly on her three girls, and she bit her lower lip to halt its quivering and to keep from weeping again. Then she strapped on the knife and gathered the items needed for her task.

  As Bonnie and Sucoora watched her enter the forest and vanish from sight, they exchanged knowing glances. Without speaking, they began to prepare the last of their vegetables and dried strips of venison for the evening meal. No one came near their tepee that afternoon.

  When the snares were set and her chores completed, Rebecca went to sit with her girls. She played hand games with them until the meal was ready. Afterward, they sang children’s songs, which she had taught them.

  Bonnie volunteered to take the first watch of the night, and Sucoora and Rebecca agreed. As they turned in for the night, Bonnie picked up the gun and sat on a mat before the entrance. In all of her wildest imaginings, she never had envisioned herself going through all this.

  The next afternoon, White Antelope tried to bring the women several freshly slain birds. Again, the game was politely refused. The Cheyenne hunter told the women to send word when they were hungry, warning them of Windrider’s inevitable displeasure with their absurd conduct. He even hinted at punishment. In turn, Rebecca warned him of the illness that was breeding in camp. When he frowned and shook his head skeptically, Rebecca asked him to recall her warnings and advice in nine more moons, then come and apologize for his disbelief and scorn. He scowled once more, then rode back to camp.

  For the next three days, the women managed fine on the rabbits and fish tha
t Rebecca caught and the vegetables and wild fruits she gathered. Sucoora and Bonnie smiled and complimented her on her skills and cunning. It was obvious the people of the village thought they were being ridiculous and allowed them time to get this foolishness out of their systems. No one approached their little camp. Even the Cheyenne women avoided this area when seeking wood and vegetables for their families. In the camp, the white women and Sucoora were the objects of many jokes and much laughter.

  Two more days passed with nothing to eat but vegetables and a few fruits. Rebecca decided she would go hunting for a larger animal at dusk the next day, something that would offer more meat for a longer period of time. And she would collect plenty of wood, for, in the back of her mind, she feared she would become ill and helpless. She wanted to provide their tiny camp with enough food and wood to last for many days. To insure Rebecca’s stamina for the hunt, Bonnie and Sucoora took the guard duties that night.

  Rebecca spent her morning avidly gathering firewood and as many vegetables she could find. This late in the season, many of the wild vegetables, greens, fruits, and berries were gone. She bemoaned the fact that there was no maize, for it lent itself to a variety of nourishing dishes.

  A pang of resentment toward Sucoora shot through her body. Why hadn’t the woman been preparing winter supplies? Where were the dried meats and berries for pemmican? Where was the jerky? August through October were the months for doing this chore, which was vital for winter survival. Any game killed and prepared now could be contaminated if handled by infected hands. She raged over this horrible calamity. Strength, fame, and stamina would not guard anyone against smallpox. Then Rebecca realized where the extra food and time had gone—care and nourishment for Bright Arrow’s family…

  She considered riding to the Oglala camp and pleading for help and food for Bright Arrow’s and Windrider’s children. Knowing she might be carrying that malicious disease inside her body, she dismissed the idea. She couldn’t risk spreading the disease to another camp, and certainly not the camp of Bright Arrow’s family and friends. In a way, the Oglalas were responsible for her family being in this current danger, as well as for many perils in the past. So many critical events had hinged on Bright Arrow’s exile because of her. Still, revenge and just punishment were not the same thing. She couldn’t be responsible for condemning many innocent women and children to certain death.

  Shortly after noon, Rebecca took the gun and entered the forest. To her waist she strapped a long, sharp hunting knife. She had even dared to borrow Bright Arrow’s tomahawk. What did it matter that warriors believed it was bad luck for a woman to touch their weapons! If he thought it had lost its magic, he could make a new one! Heading into the white man’s world, he had left behind his Indian weapons. She needed these weapons for hunting and defense, weapons she could use easily and quickly. If she didn’t have any success with the gun and snares, she would dare to try his bow and arrows tomorrow!

  She walked and searched for hours. What few tracks she found led nowhere. The two times she had seen game, it had been out of range. When Jess and Lester had had her imprisoned inside the cabin, she had sworn her children would never go hungry or be that frightened again. She was determined she would hunt until she found something edible to take home!

  The squirrels in the trees seemed to mock her desperation. There was an abundance of game in this area, so where was it? To conceal her presence as much as possible, she had worn a brown dress the color of the tree trunks. She moved quietly and gingerly, careful not to snap twigs or rustle leaves and branches, and she kept traveling downwind, as Bright Arrow had taught her. But defeat seemed to be her unseen companion today.

  Stealthily she moved away from the riverbank to walk near side streams, hoping to catch an unsuspecting animal drinking the cool water. She tried to recall which animals roamed in the day and which ones moved around at night. Since the weather was cooler, she felt they would not be avoiding the heat. She halted near a large tree to rest for a time.

  Silently from the brush, a deer came to drink just beyond her. He visually checked each direction with his keen black eyes, but she was concealed from his view by leafy bushes growing in a thick cluster beside the tree. He sniffed the air, but her scent was carrying in the other direction. He twitched his tail, then he bent his head and drank leisurely, his ears twitching and cocking to detect the first sound of danger.

  Excitement surged through her. Rebecca ordered herself to stand motionless and quiet. He was a beautiful, sturdy buck with six point antlers that were still in partial velvet. Where he had been rubbing them against trees, some of the furry covering over his antlers hung in ragged strips. He was a deep fawn shade, a majestic creature almost too lovely to kill. She hurriedly plotted her strategy. At this quartered angle, if she shot him halfway up his rib cage, the ball should penetrate both lungs and guarantee her a kill. With a steady aim and luck, he shouldn’t bolt more than fifty to a hundred yards. Bright Arrow usually aimed at the rib cage just above where the far leg was showing. She raised the loaded gun very slowly and cautiously to fire through the bush leaves and took aim on the deer’s body.

  To her astonishment, two arrows simultaneously thudded into her target area. As expected, the wounded buck took off as if’nothing had happened, with the two arrows protruding from his side. Her startled gaze swiftly retraced their flight path. White Antelope and Shooting Star were heading after the injured animal!

  She didn’t realize she had issued a shriek of dismaying surprise that had alerted the hunters to her presence. Both men noticed her and they exchanged stares. “That was my deer!” she screamed at them.

  White Antelope told her words to his friend. When he started to walk toward her to scold her for being alone in the forest, she backed away a few steps and shouted, “Don’t come near me! You were both near that sick trader!” Rebecca hoped and prayed that after becoming ill the white man had not touched the trade beads that Tansia had found and shared with the other girls. She also prayed whoever stole them from him had not touched him or any soiled items. There was a slim chance that the children were not breeding the illness and, if so, she could not risk taking it home with her.

  Vexed with Rebecca and her wild behavior, he shouted in return, “You are not a hunter! You are a woman! Return to camp and stop this silly game! What dark spirit plays in your head? You are a fool!”

  “In five moons, if no one in the camp becomes ill like the trader, we will return. Not before!” she sharply insisted. “If nothing happens, I will gladly confess my stupidity before the entire camp.”

  White Antelope exhaled loudly between clenched teeth. “Then be a fool for five moons. If you do not return to camp in six moons, I will come and take the children. I will leave them with others who are not touched by an evil spirit in their heads! They must have food. I gave my word to Bright Arrow and Windrider to provide meat for their families. I will cut you a haunch from the deer,” he offered angrily.

  “No!” she shrieked. “Don’t touch it! Your hands have touched the soiled belongings of the trader. We cannot eat the deer if you stain him with the illness. Stay back and I will cut the haunch myself.” Rebecca knew that the arrows, if infected, were at the other end of the deer. If the hunters didn’t touch it before her, it should be safe.

  “He has fled and must be tracked!” White Antelope argued.

  “I know how to track a wounded animal; Bright Arrow taught me. Let me trace his path and take our portion. Then you can claim him,” she offered. Her voice and expression softened as she wheedled, “Please, White Antelope. I’m not crazy. Just do this kindness for me. In a few moons you’ll understand.”

  “Then go. We will wait here until you call out and return to your tepee,” he agreed, resigning himself to her madness and her plea.

  Rebecca smiled and thanked him profusely. As the two Cheyenne hunters sat down to await her signal, she headed in the direction in which the buck had fled. He had bolted across the stream and darted into the wo
ods. Lifting her skirt, she dashed across the water. Then she traced the blood spots and broken branches to where he lay on the earth about sixty yards from the stream. She approached him gingerly, knowing the damage those antlers could inflict if he weren’t dead and he tossed them violently in her direction.

  She nudged him in the rump a few times. He didn’t react. Then she glanced at the two embedded arrows, their nocks and fletchings still visible and intact. Both arrows had entered his body accurately and deeply. Because they had pierced his lungs, he had choked on his own blood. She laid her gun aside and, carefully avoiding contact with either arrow, she withdrew her tomahawk and hunting knife. She swallowed several times with difficulty, praying she wouldn’t be ill. Then she grit her teeth and hacked off the lower portion of his leg, which was inedible. Discarding this section would also reduce the weight of her precious burden on her return walk.

  Taking the sharp knife in hand, she began to carve off as large a portion as she felt she could carry. She didn’t want to be greedy, but she knew the men were excellent hunters and could find more game. If she left her long rifle hidden nearby, she realized, she could carry part of a second hindquarter or loin section. She quickly concealed the gun beside a fallen tree under dead leaves, deciding to return to fetch it later.

  She cut a blanket in half and placed one hindquarter minus the lower leg on one section and wrapped it to protect it from insects and to keep her from getting bloody. She worked to flip the deer over, hearing the snap of the arrow shafts. Again she performed this same task, glad that the meat was still warm and pliable. She wiped her weapons clean on the deer’s hide, knowing it was ruined by her haphazard cuttings on its rump. She didn’t know how to skin one, but she couldn’t allow the men to handle the meat first. Wiping her bloody hands on her dress, she struggled to lift the two weights, groaning be neath them. She headed away from the deer, calling out to White Antelope that she was finished and leaving.