Forbidden Ecstasy

Book 3: Gray Eagle Series

by Janelle Taylor

Genres: Action & Adventure Romance; Historical Romance

Synopsis

Never before did the possession of a man fill Alisha with such excitement as when she held her handsome Indian lover in her arms. That she was a white woman living in the red man's world did now matter. They had promised each other their hearts forever--nothing could keep them apart. But when Alisha awoke to dawn's first light her bronze-skinned warrior was gone. Her lips were tender from his fiery kisses; her body throbbed from his fierce passion--and still she longed for him. Lost between two worlds, she was desperate and alone. Betrayed by her savage lover, she hungered for their forbidden love!

Release date: October 24, 2011

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 500

Sample

The waiting seemed endless, threatening. It tugged at Alisha’s senses like an indistinct yet imminent danger. But she did not know why. She was plagued by two needs: a fierce craving for water and a hunger for Gray Eagle’s return. She was uncertain as to which desire loomed foremost in her mind; then she realized the answer was his speedy return, for that would solve all her problems and fears. The heat and glare of the sun were merciless, tormenting. The sun seemed to possess the power to sear both flesh and mind as it intimately caressed the sands with its shimmering fingers.

Still, an eerie presentiment continued; no, it grew heavier and deadlier as time passed by. Alisha shaded her jade-green eyes, now streaked with red from the sun’s incessant brightness. She studied the horizon. As her eyes slowly searched the landscape, the only movements she could detect were the vacillating heatwaves between the sun and sand which spun mirages and ghostly chimeras. At that time, Alisha would have been overjoyed to see anyone or anything. The feeling of total aloneness inspired brief moments of insanity… or the dread of being in its thrall.

Alisha’s thoughts tumbled and changed focus as if trapped in a kaleidoscope. She wondered why Gray Eagle had not returned. He had been gone for nearly two days now. She feared he had been attacked by some enemy tribe, perhaps injured or killed. No, her frenzied mind screamed. She would not even think such impossible thoughts. She must assume that something had delayed his prompt return to her side.

Alisha had already debated the idea of trying to follow his faint trail or to retrace her own path to the Si-Ha Sapa village. She had dismissed both ideas; on the open plains, distance and direction were quickly distorted. She could just as easily wind up in some enemy camp herself or become lost in the vast wasteland. She had no choice but to wait for Gray Eagle or for a messenger from him.

If only he had left her horse behind or some food and water…but he had said that he needed her horse to carry their supplies on his return trip. He had also told her that he needed to carry the water skins with him in order to refill them. He had stated he would be back within a few hours, but that had been two days ago. Now, here she sat waiting for him, without food or water or a means of escape.

She laughed softly. Escape…there was no longer any need or desire for escape from him. They were married now. He had vowed his love for her. How very intoxicating those words had sounded: “Ni-ye mitawa; waste cedake, Cinstinna.” Her heart beat happily as the memories of the past months raced wildly through her thoughts. So very much had changed in only a few short months—and now she possessed everything that she had ever dreamed of. She had Gray Eagle, his love, his acceptance, and unbelievably her own acceptance as the daughter of Chief Black Cloud of the Si-Ha Sapa.

So many events—terrifying, ecstatic, incredible—had led to her acceptance by Gray Eagle and by his people. It seemed as if Fate were charting her new existence. Otherwise, there was no logical explanation for this sudden and exhilarating change in the direction of her destiny. Soon, she and Wanmdi Hota would return to his village, and a whole new and wonderful life would begin for them.

Alisha told herself she should not worry about his safety. She chided herself; was he not heralded as the greatest warrior of all time? Was he not a living legend to both friend and foe? The mere mention of his name, the sight of him, the deadly tone of his voice could drive terror and respect into the heart of any man who might be tempted to oppose him. He had proven his great courage, daring, cunning, and intelligence numerous times. He was awed by both white men and Indians. No one would dare to resist his intrepid authority. For certain, she knew what it was like to go against his wishes or commands.

Yes, she could remember what it was like. But the time had come for complete forgiving and forgetting. Surely, in time, all the bad memories would vanish completely. When he was at her side, nothing else mattered. He was her life; he was her future. In truth, Alisha loved Gray Eagle more than life itself.

Yes, she unwillingly remembered…. Yet, she decided that it was worth the price she had paid, all the pain and suffering, for she had finally won her heart’s desire. There had been so many days and nights when she had doubted her very survival; yet, she was alive, well, and happy. There had also been countless times when she had faced his brutality and hatred; yet, she had finally won his love and his acceptance. She had changed greatly in these past months. She had learned so many things about life and love, but she had learned so much more about herself.

She was a woman now, a married woman, and she was deeply in love with her husband. Gray Eagle had taught her love. No longer did it matter that she was white and that he was Indian—at least, it mattered not to them. In fact, it seemed incredulous that the Gray Eagle she had married was the same warrior who had killed her uncle, destroyed her fortress, and ordered the deaths of many whites. It was hard to imagine those same lips which had kissed her so gently and passionately and had spoken such tender words of love to her were the same lips which had ordered her punishment and humiliation so many times in the past. It was as it had been on other occasions, as if there were two men sharing the same powerful body. The Gray Eagle that she knew in private was not the same fierce and deadly warrior that he presented in public. Yet, there was an inseparable intermingling of both men on nearly all occasions.

Even now, Alisha found it difficult to mentally describe him or to understand him completely. For some unknown reason, she had fallen hopelessly in love with him at their very first meeting. Perhaps that meeting had been the real reason for the ensuing warfare between them. He had first met her as his deadly enemy, as a captive of her people. How cruelly they had treated him! But his bravery and virile magnetism had drawn her to him that very first moment their eyes had met and fused.

In spite of the heat, Alisha shivered as she recalled that ominous look which had been in Gray Eagle’s stygian eyes as her people had beaten and mocked him. His glance alone should have warned them of the great power he was capable of unleashing. It had gone unnoticed, a tragic error which had cost them all of their lives, all except hers. But then, she had not hated, abused, or taunted him. No, she had sided with him and had helped him at a great personal price. Perhaps it had been predestined for all of the others to die and for her to live. Still, the pain of her losses haunted her. She wondered if she would ever know her full role in the deadly events of the last fateful day of her village…

She sadly shook her head to clear it of these unwanted reflections. No doubt it was a combination of the heat and her solitude which had brought them to mind. Her eyes eagerly searched the horizon once more, praying he would return and all would be well. She sighed lightly as she hugged her knees to her breasts, the sigh only serving to remind her of her thirst. The dryness of her lips and throat made it difficult to swallow. Never had she been this thirsty in her entire life. Immediately her weary mind challenged her.

Yes, she had. There were two other times she could recall being this thirsty. There was that day not so very long ago when she had endured the long march from her devastated fortress to the Oglala camp, that time when she had feared Gray Eagle the most. And then there was the time when she had foolishly escaped his camp and his tormenting love, the time when he had rescued her. And both times he had saved her life in the midst of danger.

Alisha could not permit herself to closely analyze that day when Gray Eagle’s tribe had attacked her people’s fortress, destroying everything and everyone in sight. Even though she now knew his motives for such total and violent destruction, she had to force herself to suppress the bitterness and sadness that these unbidden memories renewed. She could understand both sides of this savage war between the white man and the red. To her, both were right; both were wrong.

Her troubled mind asked, will there ever be peace and acceptance between them? Will there ever be a joint settlement in this wondrous land?

She feared not, for the differences between them were too great, the hatred was too deep. Worst of all, she feared that neither side really wanted peace with the other; each only wanted the other banished from this area. She could not deny the fact that her people were the intruders in the New Land. They were the ones who were determined to possess this dreamland at any cost. They could not comprehend that the Indians would never turn their precious lands over to the white man without a bloody fight, a battle in which neither side could win.

Why must people hate and destroy? she thought. Why must they take what is not theirs? I recall all the many reasons why our own wagon train came West. I know my people’s motives. I sympathize with them and the troubles they left behind. Yet, it changes nothing; the lands belong to the Indians. Don’t they?

Tears came to her eyes, for she knew that others would eventually come here too. They would also ignore all the dangers and warnings just as her own people had done. They would listen to only the colorful tales of this glorious, untamed land where dreams were supposed to become realities. If they only knew the truth… those same dreams could easily become bloody nightmares.

There was only one way there could ever be peace; her people would have to learn to accept the Indians as equals. From what she had seen and experienced, it was not so. The whites simply viewed the Indians as wild animals to be killed or to be driven from their hunting grounds. But the Indians were people. They would never submit to such vile treatment. They would strike back in the only way left open to them: war.

It was inevitable that she would once again be caught in the middle of their wars. Perhaps Gray Eagle had been accurate when he had claimed that she was a white girl with an Indian heart. She had lived with his people. She had come to know their ways; she had accepted them as her new people. She realized that there would be no problems if the constant war with her people and his did not exist. But it did. Dread clutched at her tender heart as she envisioned what would happen when more whites came and another bloody, futile battle began. There could be no choice in her loyalty; she was Gray Eagle’s wife. She would be viewed as an Indian. How she feared the day when her devotion to him would be tested!

Wanmdi Hota’s wife, the pleasant thought seized her and made her smile serenely. This was the fourth day of their marriage, but she had spent only two of those precious days with him. The day of their joining, she had been so consumed with fear and confusion that the hours had passed in a dreamlike trance. But Gray Eagle had understood Alisha’s mixed feelings of excitement and dread. He had allowed her to escape the Blackfoot camp, only to follow after her with the truth of his love for her. How beautiful that second day and night had been. For the first time since she had met him, he had spoken to her in English! That moment had been the greatest shock of her entire life. It meant that he had always known and heard what was in her heart, had always understood every word that she had spoken aloud. Later, he had sworn her to secrecy about his knowledge of her tongue. Knowing how valuable this weapon was against the white man, she promised to keep it. She was pleased with this news, for it would be so much easier for him to teach her his own language. He had cautiously warned her that they could only speak her tongue in private.

That first morning when he had overtaken her during her desperate flight from his tormenting love and closeness, they had argued and talked for hours; secrets and desires of both their hearts had been vividly revealed. They were now joined for all time. So many things made sense to her. She could even comprehend what he had done to her in the past and why. Still, a slight resentment remained in her mind against him. So much suffering on her part could have been avoided if he had trusted her sooner. He had recently proven his love and trust by finally revealing his secrets to her. Never again would there be any secrets between them.

With the lie that she was Chief Black Cloud’s half-breed daughter accepted among the Sioux, Gray Eagle’s honor could be left intact; his high rank could not be challenged or endangered. Only Gray Eagle knew the truth; yet, he had refused to reveal it, to betray her real identity. For only as an Indian maiden could she be accepted as the wife of Wanmdi Hota, son of Running Wolf, and chief of the feared and awesome Sioux. He wanted her as his wife, not as his white captive. His great desire to have her openly outweighed any feelings of guilt and treachery toward his people and his customs.

She had been surprised and shocked when he had informed her that no one, not even his father, must learn of her true identity as a mere white girl. He had also told her of Matu’s timely death, that dauntless old woman who had first been her guard; later her friend and helper. It had been Matu’s treachery which had given rise to the fabrication of her identity as Princess Shalee, long-lost daughter of Mahpiya Sapa. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that Alisha had so closely resembled this missing half-breed daughter. She absently rubbed the akito on her left buttock, mentally envisioning its crescent moon and two, small stars: tattoo symbol of her alleged father, the symbol Matu had carved and stained for all time.

Alisha concluded that such news could mean that only four living people knew the truth about her: Gray Eagle, White Arrow, Powchutu, and herself. It was certain that none of these would ever reveal the truth, for to do so meant dishonor for Gray Eagle and death for her. The pattern had been set; they all had to follow its guidelines.

Alisha mused, what harm could such an innocent lie do? It can only bring safety, happiness, and acceptance for all involved. I love Gray Eagle. I will not lose him, not now. I won his love at a great price, and I will not give it up. Where are you, my love? I need you….

Her mind was flooded with memories of their brief life together. They had endured and overcome so many problems. It was only right that they could be together now. They were in love. All they wanted was to love each other, to be happy. Their differences could not possibly matter as much as their love. Nights of heated passion flickered in her thoughts; days of relaxed contentment in his tepee joined them. Theirs was a love which could survive all time. Oh how she yearned for his return!

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….

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 shot 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!”

Powchutu noted the visible tensing in Gray Eagle’s body. He watched the dangerous narrowing of his foe’s eyes. He felt that burning coldness touch his very soul. He fully recognized the courage and power that this man possessed. He curiously watched him as suspicion and doubt began to gradually edge their way into Gray Eagle’s mind and heart. Although Gray Eagle was praised for his unreadable expressions, there were many emotions clearly visible in his face at that very moment. Powchutu was filled with malevolent pleasure.

Powchutu was not only a good guesser, but he was also a bold and daring liar. Knowing both Gray Eagle and Alisha, he artfully led Gray Eagle to believe that he had totally misjudged Alisha and her affections. All of Powchutu’s claims sounded logical. Stone by stone, Powchutu maliciously dismantled Gray Eagle’s wall of trust in Alisha, and he uprooted the very foundation of his acceptance of her.

“Does a woman love a man who beats and shames her?” he shouted at Alisha’s love. “Does she turn to the same man who has killed her people, destroyed her life and happiness? Does she love a man who has cruelly lashed her before his people only because she sought freedom from him? Can she love a man who steals her from safety and from the man she truly loves? Can she love a man who raped her and who forced her to endure his touch when it is another’s that she wants? In her place, would you love her?” he acidly challenged.

Powchutu shifted from one foot to the other as he raged at Gray Eagle. “Did you know that each time you took her on your mat she closed her eyes and pretended you were me? I will kill you for making her endure such shame.” He flung his cutting words at Gray Eagle’s heart like razor-sharp daggers. “You have no guilt or honor. You know no mercy or kindness. You are not fit to live beneath the eyes of the Great Spirit. All you have is your bloody pride! Pride painted red with the blood of your enemies and your wife. You do not deserve to spend one night with her.”

Gray Eagle still remained silent and motionless as Powchutu leveled his charges. “Do you know how I felt when I begged her to endure your touch just to save her life and that of our child’s? I was forced to put aside my pride and to become helpless in your desire to have her at any cost. I was forced to watch you take her and ride away. I was as powerless as a snared rabbit! She trusted me, but I could not save her from you. That day at the fort, she pleaded with me not to send her back to you. She asked me to kill her rather than send her away from my side. I held her in my arms and urged her to see there was no other way to resist your power. Your generous heart spared me as her friend and protector. Now I have come to reclaim her. She is mine, Wanmdi Hota, mine! Could you not see the love in her eyes for me? Did you not feel it when she told me goodbye that last day at the fort? Recall that day, Wanmdi Hota, and you will have your answers. You sat there waiting for her to come to you, but she was stalling for more time with me.

“Even now you leave her alone to die, without protection or water. You do not deserve to live. The Great Spirit will not protect the life of one who kills without honor and mercy. But she will not die, for I will save her. I will love and protect her.”

Still, Gray Eagle remained alert and silent. Powchutu glared at him, challenging him to deny his claims. When Gray Eagle refused to be baited, Powchutu continued, “Even after all you have done to her, she does not wish to kill you to insure our escape. But she knows you will never permit her to leave here alive. She is pure and gentle. You have, done much to harm her.”

Powchutu laughed harshly and said, “I have a parting gift for you from Alisha. She said she no longer needs the protection of Shalee.”

As he spoke, he tossed a white headband to Gray Eagle: the gift from Black Cloud to his married daughter. Powchutu smiled at his cunning idea. Gray Eagle seized the headband and crushed it tightly in his powerful grip, never realizing that it had not just come from the warm brow of his wife.

Powchutu sensed that he was actually getting through to the great warrior. He was filled with a heady sense of power and confidence. He arrogantly stated, “We were to marry but you took her away from me. My honor cannot permit such cruelty to the woman I love, the woman who will soon bear my child. I will have her back this very day. She has learned your vile secret, that you speak her tongue. She knows you have always heard her words, but ignored them. Your own deceit and treachery has made our trap possible. The talk you overheard in Matu’s tepee was a trick. We hoped you would follow after her in my place, just as you did. Then we would have you out here alone and helpless. But I did not foresee your plans with White Arrow to hold me captive. Alisha feared you had killed me. She was planning to keep pretending to be your loving and dutiful wife; she was going to let you think our child was yours. Now, it will not be necessary. I convinced White Arrow of my trust in you. I told him I was returning to Grota’s camp. There is no one to help you now, great warrior of the Sioux. You will begone forever from these lands, just as we will. Alisha will no longer fear the discovery of her deceit. She will no longer feel any fear or shame. If I could not join her, she prayed that you would somehow accept a half-breed child if you believed that it was your own son. Yet knowing how you despised and scorned me because I am a half-breed, she feared you might not accept your own child.”

Each time that Powchutu purposely mentioned the child, Gray Eagle’s jawline would grow taut, and his hands would clench into tight fists. Dangerous flames would spark and glow brightly in his stygian eyes, then quickly disappear as he sought to control his unleashed emotions. For the first time, he finally spoke, “You will not escape Wanmdi Hota vengeance. She never belong to you, nor to no other man,” he vowed icily, his eyes as cold and forbidding as his voice.

Fear coursed in Powchutu’s veins at the ominous tone in Gray Eagle’s threat. “Dead men cannot seek revenge!” . . .