Forbidden Ecstasy Read online

  Two days before he had set out to hunt and to refill their water skins. He had spoken of a lengthy stay in the nearby mountains, their Oglala honeymoon. This idea had thrilled her racing heart. This way, they could have the time and privacy to come to know each other as they never had before. She had anxiously waited where he had left her, but he had not as yet returned to her side.

  The lovely young bride was thirsty, hungry, frightened, and fatigued. She had slept fitfully the night before. The perspiration caused by the extreme heat of the sun and its reflections on the golden sands had robbed her slender body of many of its precious fluids. Without water to replenish those vital fluids, her energy was also slowly evaporating. She could not decide who was in more danger, her or him. Thankfully the sun had begun to sink on the far horizon, warning her of a second night alone. It gradually disappeared, and her spirits vanished with it.

  Where are you, Wanmdi Hota? her saddened heart cried out. I could not bear to lose you now, not when I have just found you.

  The silence which answered her pleas seemed as a loud, ominous roar in her buzzing ears. She assumed that it was only the eerie solitude and her rising fear which was playing cruel tricks upon her tired senses. At last, there was nothing left of the flaming sun except pink streaks on the distant skyline, streaks shaped like fiery fingers clawing at the expanse of the dark blue sky.

  At least she could be grateful for the release from the sun’s heat and dazzling glare from the sands. She gently rubbed her tender eyes, knowing that their lack of moisture was not solely to blame on the demanding sun. She decided it was best that Wanmdi Hota had taken her beloved horse with him; Wildfire would only be suffering from the same fierce thirst which she was now enduring.

  She massaged her arms to give some slight comfort to the tiny abrasions caused by the stinging sand which had dug into her flesh repeatedly during the past two days. It was uncommon for the wind to be so strong and violent at this time of year. It had reminded her of the Sirocco winds that she had read about—those strong, hot winds which blew across the Sahara Desert and wreaked their destructive will upon the nomads who lived there.

  Nervous laughter filled her tight chest as she became aware of how deeply and seriously her panic was affecting her. She had just caught herself thinking of how it seemed that the very elements of sun, sand, and wind were calling out warnings to her, warnings that she did not belong in this untamed frontier. They appeared to be telling her that she was not innately suited to this arid, harsh land and climate.

  But the sun had finally vanished, along with its torrid agony. The fierce winds had gradually subsided into gentle, zephyr-like breezes. There was nothing to keep her company now, nothing except the shadows of trees and plants, and the full, silvery-yellow moon climbing above the dark, distant mountains.

  Alisha suddenly tensed. She was not alone; wails from several coyotes could be heard clearly in the distance. Hopefully it was true that coyotes did not normally attack and eat humans! She still trembled. Scenes from a similar night not long past washed over her. Strange, she had been awaiting Gray Eagle that night too. She defensively snuggled closer to the small tree in the sparse copse where he had left her.

  If only I had some type of weapon, she fearfully and angrily reasoned. Somehow I’ve made it through two days and one night. Hopefully I can survive this coming one. Please come soon, she silently prayed.

  But many hours passed with still no sign of her husband. Fatigue helplessly defeated her battle for awareness. She unknowingly slipped into a deep and dreamless slumber. She did not know when a tanned, muscular man eased down beside her. She did not see the intense way his jet black eyes hungrily roamed over her beautiful face and curvaceous body. She did not hear his ragged respiration as he struggled with the desire to awaken her and to make her his woman. Nor did she know of the cruelty and suffering which he would soon inflict upon her heart, her body, her soul….

  Chapter Two

  Any type of cruelty toward Alisha was rare in him. It left a bitter taste in his mouth and a gnawing guilt in his mind. He eased down beside her to patiently await her awakening. From his point of view, there was no other way to save her from future harm; there was no other way in which she could ever belong to him. He hoped that in time she would forget these past months she had been in thrall to Gray Eagle. He desperately wanted the memories of this place and all of these people to disappear from her thoughts. But most of all, he yearned for her to purge Gray Eagle from her heart and life. He craved the death of her love for his sworn enemy.

  He gazed down at her sleeping face and fiercely vowed, “I will return you safely to your own land across the big waters. I will help you forget all the pain and humiliation you have known here in my land. I will protect you and love you. Never again will you face fear. Never again will you be forced to flee from danger or death. At last there is no more Wanmdi Hota. There is only Alisha and Powchutu. We belong together, my love. Neither the whites nor the Indians want us. We have each other; this is all we need.”

  The half-breed scout reasoned that these past two days of waiting were necessary in order to convince her of Gray Eagle’s supposed betrayal and treachery. Soon she would awaken, and he himself would seal their fates for all time. His keen eyes studied her face once more as rambling thoughts flickered brightly in his mind.

  To Powchutu, Alisha was the most beautiful and desirable woman alive. To him, she was far too vulnerable and too trusting, traits that even he would take unfair advantage of very soon. He wondered if his words would break her tender heart. He could not decide if she would readily believe him or call him a liar. But he could not permit her to refuse to leave here with him. If absolutely necessary, he would use gentle force upon her. No matter her reaction, there was no choice now. With the first hint of morning light, they would leave this perilous place forever. Far away from here, they could begin a new and wonderful life together—so Powchutu planned.

  He leaned back against the slender tree trunk and lifted his eyes skyward. In a husky tone he softly murmured, “Forgive me, Great Spirit. But I could not allow Gray Eagle to harm my love ever again. I cannot permit him to have the woman I love and need. Twice she has promised to go away with me. I shall hold her to that vow. Now, there is no more Gray Eagle to stop us. He was only a man after all. He died just as any other would. His blood ran just as fast and as red as other men’s.”

  The muscle in Powchutu’s jawline twitched with unleashed anger. “The great warrior has finally fallen. They claimed he was indestructible. Yet I have slain him with the ease of a rabbit hunt. Hanke-wasichuns do not count coup,” he bitterly added as an afterthought, mentally cursing his mixed bloods. How he wished that he could shout his brave and daring deed louder than the kettle drums could pound.

  Gradually Powchutu’s mind returned to his confrontation with the warrior, that morning when Gray Eagle had ridden off and left Alisha behind. He allowed his jaundiced mind to drift back in time and to envision the entire matter in vivid retrospect. It had all begun four days before—the night of the wedding—the night when he and Alisha had tried to drug Gray Eagle. Somehow he must have known all their plans. He had cunningly watched them trap themselves in his snare. As planned, Alisha had fled the Blackfoot camp after believing that Gray Eagle had been rendered unconscious by the potion that he had supplied for her. But Powchutu had not followed Alisha in order to join her; Gray Eagle had. Instead, Powchutu himself had been captured and tightly bound by White Arrow, Gray Eagle’s best friend and constant companion from youth.

  The half-breed recalled how White Arrow had held him prisoner for two long and agonizing days. Only by pretending to believe that Gray Eagle did love and want Alisha, did White Arrow finally release him from his bonds. Powchutu inwardly raged at those bonds which had been imposed by Gray Eagle to prevent him from following after Alisha. To him, it was crystal clear that Gray Eagle had only feigned acceptance of Alisha and of the deception that she was Black Cloud’s daughter. Powchutu
could not accept this drastic change in Gray Eagle’s emotions and actions. His biased mind told him that Gray Eagle had been up to some malicious mischief.

  Powchutu earnestly believed that Gray Eagle had no true intention of keeping Alisha at his side as his wife. Powchutu viewed the trek into the open plains as only a means of getting her away from the Blackfoot village as quietly and easily as possible. It looked as the best way to save face before his own people and the neighboring warriors. Powchutu reasoned that Gray Eagle would never permit anyone to learn that he had fought for and married a mere white girl. Such a renowned warrior would certainly never allow a paleface to get away with such a humiliating trick on him. He would surely seal this shameful secret forever with her death, the only sure and permanent silence.

  “I am no blind fool,” Powchutu growled sullenly. “Does he think he can deceive me as he has her? Could he not see she was innocent of Matu’s treachery? Could he not accept the love she freely offered him? As surely as winter comes, he would have killed her and returned to his camp as the grieving husband. Why is my version of this vile deed any different? I have only outsmarted Gray Eagle and saved Alisha’s life.”

  Powchutu had decided to tell Alisha this same story, the one he was certain that Gray Eagle would have used. He knew that it would take a great deal of persuasion, but she would be forced to believe him in the end. How could she doubt him when Gray Eagle had not returned for her? No one, including Alisha, imagined the warrior capable of falling prey to an enemy. Everyone thought him invincible, more than a mortal man.

  But Powchutu knew that Gray Eagle was not unconquerable, for he had shot him and left him for dead.

  Powchutu closed his eyes and pictured the look of total disbelief upon Gray Eagle’s face as he had spoken his claims to Gray Eagle, then shot him. The flintlock pistol had roared loudly, bright sparks had flashed as the ball exploded from the barrel and slammed into that hard, bronze chest. Powchutu reasoned that Gray Eagle had also thought himself incapable of dying, for his last words to him had been, “You not run too far for vengeance of Wanm….” But he had lapsed into unconsciousness before completing his threat of revenge.

  Powchutu scoffed venomously, “Dead men walk the ghost trail, not the green forests or the open plains.”

  Powchutu remembered how Gray Eagle had been angered at himself for allowing an enemy to sneak up on him. It was the most deadly error a warrior could make. It was clear to Powchutu that Gray Eagle’s mind had been on other matters, for his guard had been too low. He assumed that Gray Eagle had been mentally planning Alisha’s “accidental” death. For a brief moment, Powchutu had been too frightened to carry out his daring plan to kill him. That burning gaze in Gray Eagle’s eyes could strike terror into the heart of the bravest of men; his fierce stare and intrepid aura could immobilize a man. But it had been too late to back down. Cowardice could have cost both his and Alisha’s lives.

  The truculent warrior had not even pleaded for his life, not that Powchutu would have granted his wish. He had been driven beyond all caution and respect in this, his final battle with his sworn enemy, the man who had reduced the woman he loved to a despised slave.

  Powchutu muttered, “He just stared at me in the strangest way when I told him about our plans.”

  Our plans…. Powchutu suppressed a low, pleased laugh. It was amusing for him to think that he had actually convinced Gray Eagle that Alisha had known all about his murder and that she had willingly agreed to it.

  “He accepted that ridiculous story about our knowing he could speak English. He thinks we set up that meeting in Matu’s tepee where he could overhear us and change our plans to escape. He truly believed you had tricked him,” he said, gazing down tenderly at Alisha. “The fool! When I said we wanted him dead so we could escape and marry, he accepted my words. How blind can a man be? Could he not see the love in your eyes for him? Could he not hear it in your sweet voice? He claimed he trusted you, accepted you, loved you. He lied! Where was this love and trust when I spoke such lies to him?”

  Once again, Powchutu’s thoughts returned to the deadly scene of Gray Eagle’s shooting. He mentally relived it as if it was just happening for the first time. While stealthily tracking them, he had sighted Gray Eagle and Alisha speaking near the copse. Rage had filled him at the sight of what he thought were Gray Eagle’s deceitful affections and bold attentions toward her. For an instant he had been tempted to shoot him while he was embracing Alisha. He had not dared for fear of hitting her by error. To kill Gray Eagle was one thing, but to do so in front of Alisha was another.

  Powchutu had finally decided to attack only if her life appeared in immediate danger. It had been like a sharp knife cutting into his heart to watch her heated responses to another man, even one she loved and married. He had forced himself to observe the fiery actions between them, allowing them to increase his great hatred for Gray Eagle and to strengthen his bold resolve to have Gray Eagle out of her life forever.

  At least she was still alive and well. He had feared that he might be too late to rescue her before Gray Eagle could carry out his treachery. He almost wished that Gray Eagle would try to kill her, now that he was here to prevent it. He knew that nothing would be as convincing as a witnessed attempt upon her life. Powchutu wondered just how Gray Eagle would enact her demise. Enlightenment came to him as he watched Gray Eagle mount up and casually ride off with her horse and their meager supplies. It had amazed and infuriated him to realize that Gray Eagle’s apparent intention was to leave her alone and defenseless to die. He hastily scanned the direction which Gray Eagle had taken, then turned his line of vision back to Alisha.

  Powchutu’s brow knit in confusion. He was utterly perplexed by her obvious calm and her vivid happiness. Of course… she must believe that he would soon return for her. He contemplated upon what lies Gray Eagle had told her in order to win her unwitting cooperation in her own death. He waited until she had concealed herself in the trees, knowing that she would be safe for a few hours until he could return. He replaced his field glasses in his saddle bag and headed off in the same direction that Gray Eagle had previously taken.

  Powchutu sneered at Gray Eagle’s confidence and satisfaction. To him, Gray Eagle appeared so consumed with satanic pleasure that it had dulled his hunter’s instincts; not once had he detected Powchutu’s dogging presence. He had trailed him for miles to a narrow stream where he had halted to refill two water skins. Powchutu fumed as he watched the warrior take the time to fetch water while Alisha had been left without a drop. Once more, Powchutu’s rage was unbounded. Gray Eagle had selected one of the most brutal deaths that a person could endure—dehydration. He had seen death as a result of the lack of water. It was agonizing; it was slow. This savage murder seemed beyond even the cruelty of Gray Eagle.

  Powchutu’s gaze was transfixed on past reality. As Gray Eagle knelt to refill the water skins, he smiled in tranquility. Powchutu gritted his teeth as he soundlessly eased up behind him. To the naked eye, Gray Eagle was so confident in his prowess and invincibility that he had left his weapons on his horse.

  Powchutu smiled in wintry cynicism. How very fortunate for me, and how very stupid of you, he thought. Your smile will soon be gone, my despised foe.

  He leveled his flintlock pistol on Gray Eagle, for once grateful that he had traded for this nearly useless weapon of the white man. Although the Indians respected the power of this unfamiliar weapon, they no longer feared it as great magic.

  Powchutu theorized that the white man did not realize that the average warrior could fire at least six arrows while he was loading and priming this sluggish weapon. He wondered if they were too blind or too ignorant to realize that they did not stand a chance against arrows, knives, and lances which were used with deadly accuracy and speed. He speculated that one day a white man would make a gun which could shoot more than once or could be loaded with more speed. If so, then the Indians’ defense would be unequal to the white man’s. No matter; he only needed one sho
t at this close range.

  “Wanmdi Hota!” he shouted angrily.

  Gray Eagle dropped the water skin, rose, and whirled to face his enemy, all with the grace and speed of a giant, golden puma preparing for defense against a hungry predator. His proud stance and fearless expression revealed only contempt for his attacker. He haughtily leveled stygian eyes on Powchutu’s gun. Slowly he raised his stoical gaze to stare into the eyes of his challenger.

  His intrepid aura heightened Powchutu’s tension. He laughed to try to conceal it. “Your spirits sleep this day, Wanmdi Hota,” he taunted. “You have allowed an enemy to overtake you. At last we have come face to face for a final battle. You will pardon me if I keep the advantage,” he sneered.

  At Gray Eagle’s continued cool stare and infuriating silence, Powchutu lied, “I need not speak in your tongue. Your dark secret has been known to me for along time, as with Alisha.”

  Still no reaction came from the powerful warrior. Powchutu was urged to greater boldness. “You are a fool, Wanmdi Hota, for you easily fell into our trap for you. Your pride and hatred have blinded you to the truth. Alisha does not love you; she loves me. Your vengeance will never allow us to escape from here. We cunningly allowed you to set a snare for your own defeat. That day at the fort when you stole her from my side, we planned our revenge right beneath your very nose. We were to leave the fort that very same day; we were to be married. But you had to come for her, to show your great courage and daring by forcing her to be returned to you for more torture. When the soldiers at the fort would not offer her their protection and help, she had no choice but to return to you and to your cruelty. The cowards cared only for their own lives and skins. I was glad when you massacred them all. They deserved to die, just as you do. She, too, is proud and brave. She did not plead with them to help her, for she knew they would not. There was but one way to insure our safety and that of our unborn child; she was forced to pretend love and respect for you. If you are as cunning and intelligent as they claim, then surely you did not believe she could ever love a man such as you!”