Stolen Ecstasy

by Janelle Taylor

  She halted and turned to shout her thanks once more. The two men were standing not far away, observing her intently. Shooting Star’s expression was impassive, but an unmistakable gleam of amusement and respect for her shone in White Antelope’s eyes. He actually smiled at her and nodded a compliment to her spirit and mettle. She smiled and remarked apologetically, “Sorry about his hide. Next I’ll learn how to skin one. Thanks for the game, and thanks for the privacy,” she added sincerely. She turned and headed for her small camp.

  Rebecca labored under the loads she had thrown over each shoulder. Often when she weaved between trees or crossed narrow streams, she staggered and nearly fell. She had traveled a greater distance than she had realized, but she wasn’t lost. The farther she walked, the heavier the two burdens became. Her back, shoulders, and arms ached, her legs trembled, her respiration was strained. Sweat poured off her face and soaked her garments. Blood had seeped through the blankets and saturated the bodice, back, and upper sleeves of her dress. The stench and stickiness of the fresh blood threatened to nauseate her, but she told herself she must keep going. She coaxed herself not to east aside either of the heavy quarters, as some wild animal might find it before she could return for it. She knew she was pushing beyond her limits of strength and stamina, and still she ordered herself forward. She attempted to clear her mind of all matters except trudging onward to obtain victory.

  She became so exhausted that she started to halt her journey and rest for a time. She warned herself not to do so. She might fall asleep, and the odor of freshly slain meat could attract trouble. She recalled she had left the rifle behind, and she was too fatigued to battle an enemy—two-legged or four-legged. Salt from her excessive perspiration stung her eyes, but she didn’t have a free hand to wipe it away. She compelled herself to continue this vital trek for survival. She had no way of knowing that White Antelope was tailing her for safety. She determinedly pressed herself onward toward her goal.

  Finally she came within sight of her camp. Using the last of her strength, she called out to Sucoora and Bonnie for help. The two women looked up at her faint call for assistance, then rushed to her side and lifted the prizes from her weary shoulders. They anxiously questioned her condition, and she managed to say she was fine but that she needed to rest a moment before going onward. She dropped to her knees to master her erratic breathing and weakness. Bonnie and Sucoora returned to the tepee to prepare a nourishing, much-needed meal.

  From his concealed position, White Antelope observed this interaction. The white woman who belonged to Bright Arrow was strong and brave. She was smart and skilled. Qualms filled him. What if she were right about the illness? Even if she were mistaken, she was doing what she felt was best for her family. How could he mock such love and sacrifice? He slipped into the forest to return to Shooting Star’s side to hunt more game for their families, but not before Rebecca had caught a glimpse of him from the corner of her eye.

  She prayed for White Antelope’s survival, for he was a kind and generous man. A chuckle vibrated her sore chest. He wanted to appear so aloof and masterful, but his heart was good and sympathetic. He had guarded her safety, yet he had honored her wishes by not approaching her. Someday she would find a way to show her appreciation. Little Feet and Moon Eyes ran over to her, one falling into her lap and the other hugging her fiercely. Seeing the blood on their mother’s dress, they feared she was injured. She assured them she was fine, just tired. She laughed merrily and hugged them tightly. Then she pushed herself to her feet and clasped two small hands. The three joined the women and the other children, with the exceptions of Tashina and Silent Thunder, who were being segregated from those who had played with the trader’s beads.

  To the east of the Cheyenne village, Bright Arrow and Windrider spent their tenth night on the trail in the camp of the Hunkpapas. They shared a meal with the chief, who was full of intriguing tales about the strange white men who were visiting the camps of the Yankton and Minneconjou down the big river. They shared the pipe of friendship as the chief related stories of the courage and daring of the men named Lewis and Clark.

  The one called Clark was said to have hair as fiery as Wi before he sank into the bosom of Mother Earth to allow Hunwi to lighten the lands during the night. The chief said both carried strange skins that they marked with pictures and white words and kept in parfleches strapped around their necks. He said they asked many questions about the Indians, the lands, and the creatures here. He said they gave away many presents to both tribes. He spoke of the fiery water called whiskey, which made grown men stagger as wounded and fall to the ground to sleep deeply. He said they captured many animals and collected many plants and herbs to send to the Great White Father far away.

  The pipe was refilled and passed around once more. The chief told Bright Arrow and Windrider the white men offered peace. They met with councils and invited the chiefs to go far away with them to meet the Great White Father in his tepee. He said the Yanktons on the James River had been friendly to these men. But the Minneconjou had forced them to run the gauntlet to prove their courage and worth. He said the white men had three boats, one very large and two smaller ones. He said the two leaders, called captains, brought many white men with them and one with black skin. He revealed that the captains wore long knives called swords and carried long fire sticks.

  Bright Arrow asked many questions which the chief eagerly answered. The chief told him the one called Lewis had given Chief Black Buffalo a medal with the Great White Father’s picture; Lewis said it was an honor to earn or receive such a medal, like a coup feather. The chief said there was a man called Peter Cruzat with them who could call music from a piece of wood with strings and a long shaft. He said the white men were clever and dangerous. He said they marked the numbers of Indians in each camp and their locations. He said they marked where buffalo herds and bands of game roamed. He said they asked about winter camping grounds, sacred grounds, and the red stone quarry. He said they planned to ride the big river through all of their territory. They would visit all tribes, friend and foe to the Sioux. The Hunkpapa chief was happy when Bright Arrow revealed his secret plan to join them, expose them, and defeat them.

  That night was a long one for Bright Arrow. He could not sleep, for weird images and visions filled his mind. In two moons they would reach the big river. There, he and his friend would part company, and Windrider would return to his camp. Bright Arrow would continue on to the camps of the Minneconjou and Yankton, as a white man. The plan seemed so simple and cunning. Why did he have this overpowering feeling of doom? Why did thoughts of Rebecca haunt him all day? He closed his eyes, trying to force himself into slumber.

  Far to the west, Rebecca also tossed and turned restlessly. For the first time since this deadly drama began, she realized she might have seen her love for the last time.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Two days later, on September fourteenth in late afternoon, Bright Arrow and Windrider reached the Missouri River to discover some nettling facts. Lewis and Clark had left the Yankton and Minneconjou camps in a large keelboat and two pirogues. Early that morning, they had passed this point where the big river curved northward. They were heading toward the Brule camp just below the Pierre settlement and Two Kettle village.

  Black Buffalo, chief of the Minneconjou, and a few of his braves had journeyed upriver for a distance with the expedition. Bright Arrow and Windrider found the chief and his braves camped near the river where it angled southeastward. The Minneconjou were preparing to spend the night, planning to head home on the new sun, and Bright Arrow and Windrider were invited to share their food and camp. Many facts and feelings tumbled forth from the chief, who had clearly been impressed and deceived by this clever white scouting party.

  Apparently, one renown Sioux Chief, The Partizan, had refused to come along, as he disliked and mistrusted the whites. According to Black Buffalo, The Partizan had not gotten along with the two white captains. From the chief’s remarks, it was easy for
the two arriving warriors to grasp that the Yanktons had also befriended the leaders of the expedition, but they had remained behind in their village. The white leaders had promised to pass this way again on their return journey and had offered the chiefs an exciting trip to see their white world and leader. Black Buffalo sounded as if he planned to accept the perilous invitation! Had he rashly forgotten that the whites were enemies of the Indian, especially the Sioux? Didn’t he realize he would be surrounded by thousands?

  Bright Arrow and Windrider camped with the Minneconjou that night, asking many questions about the white men and their plans. They listened intently, then talked later in private. It was decided that Windrider would head homeward the next day. With luck and good weather, he would arrive at his camp in ten to twelve days.

  Bright Arrow would try to obtain a boat from Black Buffalo, as water travel would be faster than a horse. He would tell the chief that he was curious about these men, that he wanted to meet them and speak with them. If necessary, he would trade his horse. He needed and wanted to catch up with the expedition before it left the Brule camp. Yet the two warriors knew they could not break camp until the Minneconjou left, as they had to prepare Bright Arrow to appear white. He would need to change his hair and clothes, then let Windrider take his belongings and hopefully his horse back to camp with him. When the time came for escape from the expedition, he could steal a horse or a boat. Since his Teton brothers were friendly with these treacherous whites, his mission and identity would have to be kept secret. He knew that the wait would inspire tension and impatience, but it couldn’t be helped.

  The two warriors lay on their sleeping mats beneath the stars in a clear sky. Tomorrow would be a critical day. They needed sleep and rest, but both were evading them.

  “A bad wind blows over our lands, Windrider,” Bright Arrow stated solemnly in English. The closer he came to taking on the role of a white or half-white male, the more he practiced the language. “My spirit has been troubled for many days. I do not understand such feelings; I do not think they come from the white men who seek to show the way to invade our lands.”

  Believing Rebecca would soon belong to him, Windrider carefully listened to his friend’s white words. “I will ride to my camp swiftly. My spirit has been restless for many mo—days,” Windrider confessed, revealing a similar uneasiness. The eerie sensations were so powerful and intimidating that the Cheyenne warrior suggested, “Perhaps we should ride for my camp together on the new sun. The white men are gone; perhaps Grandfather does not wish you to follow them. Perhaps enemies are sneaking toward our camps and families.”

  Bright Arrow gravely considered his speculation. He had been wrong to suspect that his friend wanted him gone so he could be alone with his woman. If that were true, Windrider wouldn’t be trying to persuade him to return to the Cheyenne camp. There was no doubt in Bright Arrow’s mind that Windrider possessed strong, deep feelings for Rebecca. But he also felt that his friend would not betray him by enticing her to his mats while she was bound to another. Besides, Grandfather had chosen Bonnie Thorne as Windrider’s new woman!

  Bright Arrow informed him, “I must go on, my friend. I am sure the vision told me to uncover their evil plans and to destroy their messages to other whites. When you return home, guard our families until my return,” he entreated.

  “The path you travel is dangerous. What if you do not return home?” Windrider inquired seriously. “How many days will you travel with these white-eyes? How will we know if you are safe?”

  “I will join the white-eyes in four days when they stop at the Brule camp. I am one man; they are many. I can travel faster. They will not leave the camp before I join them. I will return after one full moon has passed.” He set a time limit of four weeks for his quest. “If I do not return by five days after the moon renews her face, it is the sign I will never return. You know what must be done,” he hinted clearly and painfully. His dark eyes locked on Windrider’s face as his friend nodded understanding and agreement.

  Yet Bright Arrow’s implication contradicted his heretofore confident feelings and beliefs. His charge to Windrider was the result of his mysterious qualms. If he died seeking this quest, he had to know that his family would be loved and cared for by a valiant and generous man like Windrider. Perhaps it was wrong or cruel to encourage Windrider’s hopes and feelings, but he had no choice. Before this moment, he had not meant to imply that his friend take his beloved as a wife. But who could know what was in the mind and heart of the Great Spirit? Perhaps it was destined that Windrider’s tepee should boast of two beautiful, brave white women. Perhaps Windrider’s vision merely revealed Bonnie as a second wife, but that did not exclude Rebecca from being the first. After all, his friend had spoken of sending Sucoora away, as he had done with Kajihah. If only Grandfather would reveal all to him this very night! This dark confusion was frustrating. Just as a light had begun to reveal ways in which he could overcome his black situation, something or someone had doused it. Now all was in bewildering shadows once more.

  One thing he knew for certain—if he couldn’t have Rebecca, he could think of no man better than Windrider to take his place! He lay quietly on his mat, his love and desire for Rebecca haunting him, as did an inexplicable and alarming feeling he might never view her beautiful face again. Or kiss those sweet lips again. Or make passionate and tender love to her. He longed to hear her sparkling laughter and devour her sunny smile, but he feared a future in which he could not gaze into those golden brown eyes or stroke that soft skin or flaming hair. He could not shake the eerie sensations, though he tried desperately to dispel them. Maybe this tension and foreboding were effects of fatigue, anxiety, and doubt. Maybe all was peaceful and happy in the Cheyenne camp. Maybe there was another explanation for fearing he had lost her. Maybe this cloudy premonition was a warning to prepare himself for his impending death…

  Finally he succumbed to exhausted slumber, awakening a few hours later when the Minneconjou braves began to stir. A bargain was struck for a canoe; it had to be returned to their camp when he claimed his horse and he would have to relate any news about the expedition. When Bright Arrow accepted those terms, a brave was assigned to ride the horse along the riverbank to their camp. After the morning meal, Chief Black Buffalo and his braves packed the remaining canoe and headed home.

  By noon, Bright Arrow had resumed his recently discarded Clay Rivera identity, thanks to a previous stop by the old cabin, where the last garments he had purchased had still been nestled in their hiding place. He was glad he had decided to conceal them and wondered if perhaps the clever idea had been placed in his mind by Grandfather for such a crucial purpose.

  For this unique occasion, Bright Arrow was clad in brown buckskin breeches, a natural-colored heavy linen shirt, a brown felt tricornered hat, and brown boots. In the style of white frontiersmen, his shoulder length ebony hair was secured at the nape of his neck with a rawhide thong. He tied a sturdy rawhide sash around his waist to hold a leather sheath and very sharp hunting knife. In a leather parcleche slung around his neck, he carried the supplies for the long rifle in his hands. As an afterthought, he added the trader’s tomahawk to his white weapons’ collection, with which he hadn’t felt completely safe or secure.

  Windrider eyed him up and down several times, making sure they hadn’t missed a single detail or item to ensure the safety and success of this charade. He had seen many Spanish trappers and traders in this area over the years; they had been the first white to come here. He grinned. “You can pass for half-white or a white of Spanish blood,” he assured his friend.

  Bright Arrow chuckled and remarked, “Have you forgotten? I do carry white blood from my mother’s mother. Chief Black Cloud of the Blackfeet, my Sihasapa brothers, took a white slave to his mats. She was the mother of my mother. My mother does not look Indian. Her eyes are as green as newborn grass or leaves. Her hair flames as brightly as Rebecca’s. Did you know Rebecca carries my mother’s white name, Alisha? Did you know her
father, Joe Kenny, was a friend to my parents? Did you know her mother and my mother were friends many years past?” he confided casually as he completed his tasks.

  “I did not know such things about Rebecca. Why do they hate her and reject her, if such words are true?” he asked in puzzlement.

  “It is a story that takes much time and strength. I must not waste either this day. When I return, I will reveal such truths to you. If I do not, ask Rebecca to reveal them. The Oglala are not wise or kind in the matter of Alisha Rebecca Kenny. I fight a battle that I do not understand fully or accept,” he disclosed.

  “You love and desire her greatly,” Windrider remarked, dismayed by that undeniable fact. It was evident to him that Bright Arrow had not been pulling away from Rebecca because he no longer desired or loved her, but because he loved her so unselfishly.

  Bright Arrow replied honestly, “Yes. I pray each day and night she will remain in my life-circle. With each passing sun, I fear it will not be so. We have shared too few seasons together!” he raged in exasperation. He confided unwillingly, “If I am defeated in this quest to keep her or if death claims me, she will turn to you for love and joy. This truth brings me anger and sadness and jealousy, but it also pleases me to know she will find new love and protection with one such as Windrider. I can trust you to love her and care for her as I would if these forces were not against our joining. Please do not draw her from my life-circle until it is over between us,” he urged, stunning Windrider. He started to reveal the truth about Bonnie Thorne but changed his mind once more. “Return to your camp. The truth of your quest is there,” he stated mysteriously.