Stolen Ecstasy

by Janelle Taylor

  “Nope. I got no use for gold. ‘Sides, I don’t trust the Arrow. I’ll gits just what I wants and needs by trading you,” he stated with finality. “Now gits them rags off and git washed. I wants ya clean and pretty for me friend. And wash them stinky clothes.”

  There was no other choice but to follow his instructions. At least she would be clean. Billy hated women, so she knew he wouldn’t try anything with her. She yielded to the humiliating situation. “Untie me.”

  “If’n ya tries anything funny, I kin think of ways to torture ya afore I gives ya to Arapoosh,” he threatened.

  After Billy severed her bonds, he stepped back to prevent her from doing anything rash, such as trying to seize his knife or knee him in his privates. He had captured many women, and he knew all of their tricks. He watched her with an eagle eye.

  Rebecca walked to the edge of the pond and stared into the untroubled surface, knowing the water would be cold. Billy shouted for her to hurry and tossed her a small cloth and soap. She stared at them, surprised that he carried such items. No doubt he did so for moments such as this. She gritted her teeth and entered the water quickly, before she lost her courage.

  Billy howled with laughter as she struggled to undress beneath the water’s chilling cover. She turned her back to him and, using the soap, she washed her dress and breechclout, knowing the buckskin would require days to dry. She didn’t want to put them on the bank, fearing the satanically malicious Billy might snatch them. Yet she couldn’t hold them and bathe. When they were clean and wrung, she reluctantly tossed them on the dead grass, then tried to shut out reality. She scrubbed her hair and body, rubbing hard to provide some warmth and circulation. Eventually she was compelled to leave the security and concealment of the water and longingly eyed the opposite bank.

  As if reading her desperate mind, Billy called out, “If’n ya swims over there to runs away, it’ll be naked, Rebecca. How ya gonna gits home with no cothes. Git out. I’m tired and hungry.”

  “I need a blanket for drying off,” she told him. “I’m freezing.”

  Billy walked over and dropped a blanket beside her garments. He didn’t move away. Despite the chill, Rebecca’s face flamed with color and warmth. “Turn around,” she ordered frostily.

  Billy chuckled and refused to move or give her privacy. “I don’t wants none of yore tail. But ya’d better git it out here afore I gits mad.”

  “You sorry bastard,” she sneered angrily. “One day somebody’s going to kill you, with great pleasure. I’ll stand here until I turn to ice before I’ll let your wicked eyes touch me.”

  He picked up her garments and threatened to slice them to pieces. God, how she wanted to scream, Go ahead, you low-down dog! But she kept thinking of riding naked into a camp filled with hostile Crow. Billy had no conscience. He had no mercy or pity or morals. She had no doubt that he would parade her nude through the camp.

  Rebecca didn’t want to cry; she didn’t want to show anguish and weakness, but she couldn’t help herself. Her life was over; her world was lost. Let him kill her. What did it matter? She had wanted to live; she had wanted her love to have time to rescue her. But could she stall at such a price? Exist at such a cost? And if rescued, in what condition?

  Her gaze met his. The moment of truth and decision had arrived. At first she shook her head very slowly, then the speed increased as her mettle and determination mounted. “No, Billy. I can’t do as you say. It ends here, and now. If you take me into the Crow camp, it will be as a dead body. If you don’t accept my offer of gold, you’ll have nothing for your time and trouble. Kill me, or turn around.”

  “Whoring bitch!” he yelled at her. “Ya gits one minute to bring yore arse outta that water. Ya thinks I don’t knows how to hurts a woman? When I finishes with yore body, won’t be nuthin’ left for Arapoosh. I’ll git me gun and see how long ya kin dodge me fire. Course I’ll just wounds ya a mite. Don’t want to spoil me fun fer later.”

  Still, Rebecca did not relent. Her hands were crossed over her bosom, her face a picture of courage and obstinancy. She knew she had issued a death challenge. She would not submit to evil.

  Billy turned’ to fetch his rifle and shot pouch. With the speed and flash of a single bolt of lightning, two arrows thudded forcefully into Billy’s shoulders. He instantly dropped the knife and lost use of both arms. He spun and fell, though neither of the arrows had struck a lethal blow. He squirmed in agony and attempted to stand. All he could manage was a sitting position. The arrows had been placed perfectly, right through the muscles that provided strength and control.

  Billy glanced around, trying to locate his attacker. A warrior stepped from behind a tree, fifty yards away. His garments and patterns were Cheyenne. The warrior headed for the wounded Billy, and the man tried to back away on his seat. An ominous sneer curled up one side of the warrior’s lips, and his dark eyes warned of impending death. Billy licked his dry lips, then pleaded for mercy. He offered the girl in the water in exchange for his life.

  Windrider glanced at the stunned Rebecca who hadn’t moved or spoken. As if in shock, she merely stared at him in disbelief. Windrider said, “She is mine. I will take her. You will die for stealing her and abusing her.”

  “Ya knows her?” Billy murmured in rising terror.

  Windrider smiled mischievously. “She was a gift from Bright Arrow, son of Gray Eagle. She is to be my wife. I am Windrider of the Cheyenne. No man takes what is mine.”

  Windrider placed an arrow nock against his bowstring. He pulled the string and released the arrow. Horrified, Billy watched his death in progress, unable to flee. The arrow pierced the villain’s heart, and Billy fell back to the ground. As If’needing more release from his anxiety and fury, Windrider buried four more arrows in Billy’s body.

  He turned and walked toward the pond, smiling and calling Rebecca to him. Without modesty or thought, she rushed into his entreating arms, where she sobbed and clung to him, finding it difficult to believe her ordeal had ended. Windrider seized the blanket and wrapped it around her shivering frame, then held her tightly and silently. This was not a time for words. She needed warmth and the assurance of safety—comforts he was providing, not Bright Arrow…

  After a long time, she mastered her tears. Windrider’s warmth had spread to her body, and she felt protected and calm. Looking up into his face, she smiled faintly. “You’re well. I’m so glad, Windrider; I’ve been so worried about you. Did you know I was kidnapped by that devil?” she questioned, hugging him in affection and gratitude. When he nodded, she probed, “How did you find me?”

  “I was in the Oglala camp when Flaming Star returned with the news. My son and the girls are safe with Shalee. Gray Eagle will soon heal. Bright Arrow and Sun Cloud are safe; they are home. I rode out as soon as Flaming Star told me of your danger and destination.”

  Windrider explained the mystery and how Flaming Star had solved it. He quickly related Bright Arrow’s recent adventure in the Crow camp. He told her they must hurry, as it was dangerous to linger in this area. He said he would take her home to her family.

  Rebecca listened to his words. She was bewildered by one overwhelming fact—Bright Arrow was not here. “Was Bright Arrow wounded during Sun Cloud’s rescue?” she asked in dread, unable to comprehend his absence. When Windrider assured her they were both fine and safe, her perplexity increased. “Where is Bright Arrow? Why didn’t he come with you?” she inquired, knowing her love must be aware of her abduction and danger if he had returned to the Oglala camp.

  “He returned from the Crow camp after Flaming Star left to bring you to camp. Shalee sent Flaming Star after you and the children.”

  “If he reached home safely, why didn’t he come after me?”

  “Many Pawnee and Crow attack the Oglala camp. Bright Arrow and all warriors battle them. He is an Oglala warrior again. They made him band leader. He claims victory over many foes. He protects his camp and people.”

  “Did he send you after me?” she pressed in
rising dismay, shuddering in apprehension that Windrider mistook for chills. He tucked the blanket around her and drew her close to share his body heat.

  “No. I came as soon as the words left Flaming Star’s mouth.” Windrider was unaware of the erroneous direction of Rebecca’s thoughts and feelings; his omission of many vital facts and clues had been unintentional.

  Rebecca was confused and pained by this information. Her love knew of her kidnapping and peril, yet he hadn’t come to save her. The camp couldn’t be completely surrounded by enemies; otherwise Windrider could not have gotten away safely. And if he had come, why not Bright Arrow? Was he more concerned over his tribe’s safety and survival than hers? What she thought was the truth suddenly dawned on her. Windrider had said that he had been taken back into the tribe, into the Warrior Society. He was probably now reveling in the glory of Sun Cloud’s rescue! He was a band leader! Why should he take the time and effort to search for her? He had what he wanted. He had regained his rank, his honor, his daring adventures, his people, his family, his Oglala life. He probably assumed she had already been ravished and soiled. No doubt the council had met and discussed her. Evidently he had made that long-awaited and dreaded choice—his rank and tribe over her—even though he had promised he wouldn’t.

  She looked up into Windrider’s face. His smile was encouraging. He was handsome. He had saved her life and honor, risking his own life to come after her. Her hand reached up to caress his cheek, and she smiled into his gentle eyes. He had once desired her and wanted her. Had he changed his mind? She felt she had nothing and no one. Her family was lost to her. Could she rekindle those flames of desire in him?

  Her eyes softened and glowed, and her hand slipped behind his head and pulled it down to fuse her lips to his. She kissed him feverishly, pressing her body snugly

  against his. She was tormented and bewildered. she wasn’t thinking clearly or wisely. After all she had endured these past months, and weeks, and days, she needed comfort from the man who had saved her life, the man who was sharing the climax of this hellish episode. She needed to feel loved, and clean, and valuable.

  Windrider was surprised and affected by her action. Passion and hunger called out to him from her lips and body. He had grown accustomed to sharing fiery passion each night with Bonnie. For many days, his body had been denied that regular feeding. He caught her shoulders and pushed her away. He stared down at her. She was beautiful and vulnerable. She was tempting and enticing. “What of Bright Arrow?” he reminded her gently, though his loins throbbed with hunger.

  “He no longer exists for me. You are the man I love and desire,” she murmured in desperate deceit. “You have saved my life; it is yours now. I give myself to you, Windrider. Please do not reject me.”

  Windrider was utterly astounded by her words and behavior. She was a powerful temptation. As her mouth skillfully assailed him and blurred his senses, friendships were forgotten. Bonnie was forgotten. Danger was ignored. Their perilous location ceased to concern him. He didn’t consider right or wrong, just his raging passion.

  His arms went around her and pinned her tightly to his chest. His body burned with desire for this fascinating and enchanting creature. Their mouths meshed greedily and fiercely, as they sank to the hard, damp ground. The blanket slipped away, allowing warm coppery flesh to make stirring contact with chilly white skin.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  A brief moment of reality flashed across Windrider’s mind. He knew he had to be honest with this special woman. He could not reject her, but his feelings had changed since meeting and knowing his white captive. He could love and desire both women in varying measures, but the whites were known for taking only one mate, as Rebecca had reminded him not long ago. He could not lose Bonnie because of Rebecca. Yet he didn’t want to hurt Rebecca. She had suffered so much. He had enticed her first. It would be wrong to reject her after his snare had worked. Before it was too late to turn aside from this passionate madness, he huskily asked Rebecca, “Why do you come to me now when my love and desire for another are stronger than my feelings for you? Are you willing to share me and my tepee with Bonnie?”

  His words struck her like icy water. She looked up into his serious expression. “You and Bonnie?” she asked dumbly.

  “Yes. We have shared many nights on my mat. She waits for my return so that we might join. I know the white way of one mate. I do not wish to lose her,” he stated honestly, almost regretfully.

  Rebecca pushed him aside and sat up, clutching the blanket around her trembling body. Shame and guilt assailed her. What was she doing? How could she have behaved so wantonly, so deceitfully? Why was she using Windrider to mask her anguish over Bright Arrow? Why was she trying to punish herself for loving Bright Arrow? What madness had stolen her mind? She didn’t want this man; she wanted and loved Bright Arrow. During those wild moments, she had imagined she had yielded to her love, not Windrider. Such a pretense had been wrong. How could her love have betrayed her in this cruel manner? How could she have retaliated so wickedly? Tears flowed down her cheeks as she comprehended the truth of her actions.

  Windrider misunderstood her pain. “Many times I tried to make you mine, to steal you from Bright Arrow. It is wrong to turn from you when I have won this battle. If you cannot share me with another, I will send her away,” he vowed in tormented sincerity. He had made this trap, and now he would pay for his mistake.

  Rebecca turned her head and looked at him. “No, Windrider. You owe me nothing. You are my friend. You saved my life. Many times you were there when I needed something or someone. Bonnie loves you, and you love her. You must join with her, as it should be. I should not tempt you because madness fills my mind this day. Please forgive me for behaving so badly,” she entreated tearfully.

  “Do you speak truthfully?” he demanded.

  She smiled faintly. “Yes, I speak the truth. You are a tempting man, but I love Bright Arrow. I was angry because he did not come for me. I was afraid and confused. I’m fine now. Forgive me.”

  “Come, let us ride home,” he suggested.

  She inhaled deeply. Yes, she would ride to Bright Arrow’s camp and force him to say farewell face to face. She would see her girls one last time, then seek a new life. Where and how, she did not know. But she knew she could not interfere in Windrider and Bonnie’s entwined destiny. “Let’s go.”

  Windrider searched Billy’s possessions. He handed Rebecca a flannel shirt and a pair of buckskin pants. “These will keep you warm. Dress quickly. We must leave this place.”

  He turned his back while Rebecca slipped into the garments. She used a rawhide thong to hold the pants in place. If one could be grateful for small favors, she was glad Billy was slender. The garments would be fine. Windrider took what supplies and possessions he needed from Billy’s pack and helped Rebecca mount Billy’s horse. Windrider mounted his own steed and grasped the reins of the other animal. They rode out, heading south at a steady pace.

  They traveled for two days, seeing no one. On the third afternoon, Rebecca’s horse stepped into a gopher hole and broke his leg. Rebecca was thrown from his back and landed roughly on the ground. Windrider reined up and jumped off his horse. As he hurried over to her, he saw she was hunched over on her knees, gripping her abdomen and rocking in pain. Windrider dropped to a knee beside her and questioned her agony.

  “I don’t know. I feel sick. It hurts right here,” she told him, her flat palm circling her lower abdomen just above her groin. “I think I’m going to faint,” she warned him just before falling over into his arms.

  Windrider studied her face; it was white and damp. He checked her arms and legs for breaks, finding none. He gingerly pressed her collarbone, hipbones, and ribs. They seemed fine. She had a few scratches here and there, and he knew she would be bruised and sore, but he couldn’t understand her suffering and loss of consciousness. The Blackfeet camp was a few miles off to the east, and he decided to take her there.

  He held her in his arms as
he rode toward Chief Medicine Bear’s village. When she did not awaken, he worried over her strange reaction to the fall. Something was wrong.

  They reached the camp before nightfall, and he immediately requested that the medicine chief see her. She was taken to his lodge and placed on a mat. The Blackfoot shaman began to check her over from head to foot.

  Windrider paced nervously. He called a brave over to him, offering him many gifts to ride to the Oglala camp and speak with Bright Arrow. The man nodded, accepted the gifts, and rode out of camp within the hour. Windrider sighed in relief. He estimated Bright Arrow would arrive within a few days. If Rebecca healed quickly, they would meet on the trail. It seemed imperative that he coax Bright Arrow to her side. He had begun to suspect that Rebecca doubted Bright Arrow’s loyalty and love. He should have realized this was the reason she had reached out to him at the pond! She probably thought Bright Arrow was putting his people’s safety before her survival! For all he knew, the Sioux warrior could be searching for her at this very moment. Considering the scant information he had imparted, Windrider could understand Rebecca’s misconception. She didn’t know the Oglala had accepted her. She didn’t know Bright Arrow hadn’t been in camp when he had left. Bright Arrow loved her and wanted her. When she awoke, he would explain matters to her more clearly and tell her she was wrong.

  Rebecca was more than wrong. She was suffering a miscarriage of a child she hadn’t known she was carrying, a child conceived in the forest near Windrider’s camp, a child conceived in early September just before Bright Arrow left to join the Lewis and Clark expedition.

  The shaman informed Windrider of Rebecca’s condition and problem, and he grieved over the loss of this second child of his two friends. He knew what it was to lose a child, more than one child. He raged at her new torment, and he blamed himself. He bemoaned his carelessness on the trail, and in fear he asked the shaman, “Will she live?”