Stolen Ecstasy

Book 6: Gray Eagle Series

by Janelle Taylor

Genres: Action & Adventure Romance; Historical Romance

Synopsis

Follow the wind. . .Forever Ecstasy. . .Whispered kisses. . . Readers everywhere look to Janelle Taylor for the very best in historical romance. And Stolen Ecstasy continues her beloved Savage Ecstasy series with one of her greatest love stories ever--that of Gray Eagle's son, Bright Arrow, and his beautiful white captive, Rebecca. . . Stolen Ecstasy Seven years had passed since the Oglala Sioux had banished Bright Arrow for loving the magnificent captive, Rebecca Kenny. And though his passion for her still blazed as brightly as the evening star, it was torture for the son of Gray Eagle to be apart from his people. He yearned to ride free in the wind and to sink his knife into the hunt with the other braves. Now, Bright Arrow had to make his choice again--between his desire for a white woman and his honor as an Indian!

Release date: October 24, 2011

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 532

Sample

Dakota Territory

April, 1804

Rebecca Kenny moved quietly along the forest path. She usually took great delight in feeling the cool, moist earth beneath her bare feet. But, she reflected, how could she enjoy nature when her world was falling apart? She halted abruptly, then slipped behind a spruce to observe her husband as he sat beside a narrow stream. How he had changed since he had been exiled from his people sixand-a-half years ago. Where was the man she had loved and married, the indomitable Sioux warrior Bright Arrow, son of the legendary Chief Gray Eagle? Her beloved had become a stranger, a man she didn’t know or understand.

Rebecca inwardly raged at the sight before her tawny eyes. It was as if her husband had lost all interest in himself, in life, and in his family. Self-pity and resentment had been more destructive than the ravages of revenge. Gone were his former energy and enthusiasm; instead, he had become lazy, gloomy, listless, and melancholy. His lackadaisical behavior proclaimed he had nothing and no one to live for any more. Her angered mind screamed at him, What about your family? What about your pride?

Undesirable emotions implanted themselves within her each day like wild seeds, and she wondered how long she could prevent them from germinating, from becoming seedlings which could grow into strangling vines. If only she could look into the future and determine which emotional seeds would grow and which would die. And the most destructive seed was fury, fury directed not only at her love but at her own helplessness. She had to find a way to unearth and destroy those powerful seeds…

Each month—no, week—the situation worsened. They were becoming as estranged from each other as he was from his tribe and parents, and his apathy was taking its toll on Rebecca. She felt she was to blame for his detached state, for he acted as if he no longer found her desirable, as if his love and passion for her were gradually vanishing. He never exercised or honed his skills and instincts. Hunting was difficult, for his keen senses and quick reflexes had become dulled through lack of use.

Why must he travel this self-destructive course? She wondered. Why did guilt gnaw at him until he was willing to do anything to benumb its anguish and power? As the days passed, it became clear to Rebecca that he was losing his prowess and his special appeal. His deterioration was a travesty of his former greatness, and sometimes she feared she would grow to hate him for allowing himself such a slow and agonizing defeat.

When they had met, Bright Arrow’s body had been a sensual blending of black and bronze, a healthy body of exceptional beauty and appeal. He had been so handsome and virile that she had lost her wits and will before him. His presently drab hair had been the shade of a crow’s wing beneath a full moon; his eyes had gleamed like highly polished jet. Now they were as lifeless as his company. His coppery brown body had once been hard and strong, but now it was fat and flaccid to the touch. He moved sluggishly and without his former gracefulness. At one time he had moved as invisibly as a soft breeze across a cloudless sky, yet now he trudged awkwardly and loudly through the forests which had so often before yielded its treasures to his silent mastery.

A mere glance from him had once sent ripples of desire and happiness over her body. Rebecca had believed then that no matter what blows fate dealt them, she would never love or desire another as she did this majestic creature. But the unique man she had met, loved, and wed no longer existed. In his place was a pale and pathetic ghost.

He sat cross-legged and slump-shouldered on the stream’s bank, so lax and still that she almost thought he was dozing. He was so deeply ensnared by his moody thoughts that his no-longer-keen instincts failed to detect her approach and intense stare. If she had been an enemy, she silently mused, he would be dead and scalped at this very moment!

Rebecca envisioned the mental path he traveled, a trail he had walked too frequently during these many years. She knew that path by heart, for she had journeyed it at his side. Tears blurred her golden brown eyes and sadness filled her heart, for she felt there was nothing she could say to ease his suffering and nothing she could do to alter his intolerable condition. Perhaps it was too late to save Bright Arrow from himself.

She wanted to scream at him, to force him to see what he was doing to both of them. She had tried that ploy, and it had failed. She had pleaded, cried, reasoned, argued, and threatened; nothing had reached him in his selfimprisoning world of indifference. Many nights she had imagined daring ways to catch his attention or to shock him back to reality, but in the light of dawn she had seen how futile and foolish they were. First Bright Arrow had to care; he had to want to change, to live again.

His parents had been accurate when they had warned of the demands and perils of a mixed marriage between a white girl and a Sioux Indian. If she were going to be fair, she would have to admit that her beloved had not realized the extent of his sacrifices before he had claimed her as his wife. He had never imagined that his tribe would banish him for his choice, not when his father was chief, not when he was a dauntless warrior with numerous coups! But what could a loving father or powerful chief do when the council voted against his son, the son who would have become the next Oglala chief if Fate had not intervened? How foolish for the council to deny the tribe his enormous skills and prowess. How sad and cruel for fate to demand such a high price for love.

Rebecca knew all too well that a short distance to the north the Cheyenne River flowed swiftly. To the south was the summer camp of Brave Arrow’s family and tribe, and the sacred Black Hills, the Paha Sapa—winter encampment of the Oglalas and other tribes—were to the west. There were three divisions in the Sioux Nation: Lakota/Teton, Nakota/Yankton, and Dakota/Santee. In each division were many tribes and bands, and all tribes were members of the Seven Council Fires of the Sioux, Dakota Oceti Sakawin. Her husband had been a member of the Oglala tribe in the Teton branch. His people were all about him, but they seemed forever beyond his reach.

She leaned against the tree and permitted her mind to roam through the past. Bright Arrow had been a courageous and daring warrior when they had first met in 1796, she as his white prisoner. In spite of their differences and the objections of others, they had fallen in love, a love too potent to resist or deny. Even after she had saved Bright Arrow’s life and proven her mettle and value, the council had demanded she live as his kaskapi, his captive; but that had meant being considered nothing more than his witkowin, his whore. Her beloved would not permit such a degrading role for her, nor would he allow any future children to be viewed as “half-breed bastards.” His pride and love had been so strong that he had rebelled against his people’s orders. He had bravely vowed that if they could not live as honorable mates in his camp he would take Rebecca and leave. That had been almost seven years ago; and nothing had changed— nothing but her handsome and virile husband…

With these memories still filling her thoughts, the auburn-haired beauty of twenty-five returned to their cabin, a home which they had built together in those early days before he had allowed this wasting disease to attack his mind and body. Within its confines, three small girls slept peacefully. With all her heart, Rebecca believed she would have forced her husband to return to his people if not for the children; she loved him that much, and each day it became more unbearable to watch his disintegration. But it was the children who would suffer most, for their appearances were unmistakably Indian and, without their father, they would be forced into the white world or be trapped between two warring cultures.

As for Rebecca, her olive flesh and deep brown eyes falsely suggested she might be part Indian. Except for her flaming chestnut curls, her looks did nothing to attest to her white blood. She had often thought that her misleading appearance had been the reason Bright Arrow had accepted her so easily. If only his people could also overlook her white heritage. They had adamantly refused and, in doing so, Rebecca felt they were partly responsible for this predicament.

At first she had been loyal, understanding, and patient. She had comprehended that what Bright Arrow had lost was consuming him as viciously as a fatal disease. His tribe had taken away his rank, his honor, his customs and ways, his adventures, his family, his people. Worse, they had stolen his spirit and his destiny; they had severed his life-circle. He could not adjust to such losses. The more time that passed, the more her husband changed, and the more he resisted their present life together. Tears ran down her cheeks as she wept for what had been and for what she despaired could never be again.

Rebecca sat down on the bench that Bright Arrow had constructed near the cabin door. Time had not lessened his displeasure at living inside a “white man’s dwelling.” But they had been alone in the wilderness and such a dwelling had been necessary for the protection of his family against harsh winters, wild animals, and bitter enemies. As she sat, she reflected that the name Bright Arrow—a name once feared and admired and envied— had vanished from before the eyes of his tribe and foes. But had they forgotten his existence? Could they have forgotten? At twenty-six, he should have been at the peak of physical prowess. No man had possessed more valor, cunning, or daring! While her girls napped, she would give herself time to think. There had to be something she could do.

Rebecca recalled the awful days following her parents’ deaths from a fever and those two years with her menacing uncle, Jamie O’Hara. It was that vile creature who had brought her into the Sioux domain, and his dreams of riches and his greed had gotten him killed, along with a small troop of soldiers. Following a raid on her uncle’s camp, Bright Arrow had taken her captive. From the moment their gazes had fused, she had been enchanted by the handsome and masterful warrior who had rescued her from a soldier’s brutal attack, but she had fled in fear as he battled another warrior for her possession. Bright Arrow had pursued and captured her.

From the night he first took her innocence upon his mat, her heart and body had been enslaved by him. He had been so gentle and tender for a man of such strength. In the forest that first night, their hearts, bodies, and spirits had become as one forever. And if a great warrior could love her, respect her, and accept her, she could not understand how his people could be so set against her and their union. Was it such a horrible crime that her skin was white? she had wondered. If it had been possible, she would have become an Indian!

They had endured many hardships and perils, and they had savored countless moments of passion and joy. But they had not heeded the warnings of his family and the objections of his people. They had been young and in love, refusing to see beyond their forbidden emotions and need for each other. It was as if some mystical arm of revenge had been extended over the land to seize and punish them.

During Rebecca’s captivity, Bright Arrow had been taken prisoner by white soldiers, who threatened to execute him unless he could be traded for his father. She had risked her life to secure his escape. And beyond this courageous deed she had been an obedient slave. But no matter what she did, the Sioux would not look past her white skin and allow her to marry Bright Arrow. She had often wondered if it might have been different had he not rejected so many Indian maidens in favor of a white slave or not been the son of Chief Gray Eagle.

At fifty-three, Gray Eagle still sparked fear in his enemies and respect in his people and allies. It was said that no greater warrior than Gray Eagle had ever ridden the open Plains. If Bright Arrow had not been banished for marrying her, this would no longer be true, for at nineteen Bright Arrow had been close to equalling his father’s prowess. He would have made a great chief one day, if he had not rejected the laws and customs of his people. He had done the unforgivable; he had refused his heritage and defied the council—all for a white love.

Rebecca could not forget Gray Eagle’s ominous words as she had left his side to help rescue her imprisoned love. “If you help him escape… I will return you to my son. Even so, a slave is all you can ever be to him. Is this enough for you?” he had challenged her. Her naive response had been, “Yes, Gray Eagle. Even a small part of him is better than none. I will do nothing to dishonor him before the eyes of his people.” But she had done worse; she had loved him and enchanted him, then stolen him from his people and his fate. She had allowed him to believe that love was an unbeatable force, that it could conquer their foes. Just as sadly, she had also believed their love could triumph over all obstacles. But years had passed and he was still an outcast.

Now her husband was being destroyed. He could not live as half a man, a man without his life-force, his honor, his very reasons for existence. He lived neither in the white world nor the Indian world. He was a warrior without a war, an arrow that couldn’t fly. He was lonely for his Indian family and culture; he was hungry for the lost days of adventure and danger. He yearned for the life which he had left behind him. He had not been born to be a trapper, living in a wooden enclosure, existing alone with only his wife and children. They could have joined another friendly tribe, such as the Cheyenne, but his pride would not allow it.

Bright Arrow was like a captured eagle leashed to a post. His keen abilities were being weakened by inactivity while his mind was allowed to imagine a state where he could revel in his freedom and prowess, where he could test himself against other forces. He had been tricked by Fate, and his bonds were those of love and responsibility. To break his leash would cost him dearly. And although he had not complained or spoken of such denials and losses, Rebecca knew he missed the ceremonies, the hunts, the raids, the suspense, the victories. He had broken his life-circle, and he could not find an acceptable way to repair it.

Until recently, Rebecca had not doubted Bright Arrow’s love for her and their children, for he had proven it many times. But she had feared the uncontrollable resentment that could sprout and grow within him, seedlings of fury born of frustration and bitterness toward himself and his tribe. She would do anything to keep their love from being destroyed. Despite all their troubles, they had been happy until his exile. But from the changes demanded of him ensnaring vines had germinated; it seemed as if he were being slowly and painfully choked.

Something would have to be done to rescue her love once more—but what and how? She couldn’t force his tribe to recall him. She couldn’t free him by demanding he leave her or by running away. Was there no way? She was all too aware that time was running out for him, for them. Yet she was helpless to stop its inevitable passage.

Rebecca thought about the innocent children inside their cabin, children denied their grandparents and their heritage. Although they were living between two worlds, the girls had been given Indian names. Little Feet was six, Moon Eyes was four, and Tashina was sixteen months. As if Fate were determined to further punish Bright Arrow, it had denied him a son that could ride with him and train at his side, a boy to share that special bond between father and son. And that same Fate had given his parents another son just before Bright Arrow had left home. Sun Cloud, now seven, would one day become the Oglala chief in his place. Perhaps the birth of another son had given the council the courage to banish her defiant love. Perhaps it had given Gray Eagle the heart to accept such a foul deed. But even without his birthright, Rebecca knew Bright Arrow would gladly return to his people.

Surely her husband had been punished enough by now? Surely his family and tribe missed him, perhaps needed him? He was a warrior, a protector of his people and lands. He should be at his father’s side! He had been condemned to a life of nonexistence. Surely they could find forgiveness and acceptance in their hearts? Was love such a mysterious emotion that they could not comprehend it? Didn’t they realize what they were doing to him? Didn’t they care?

Perhaps if she went to Gray Eagle and Shalee and pleaded with them to send for their son… No, her husband would be furious with her. It was not the Indian way for a woman to interfere in a warrior’s affairs. His people would not respect one who begged or groveled or rejected the vote of the council. Yet she knew he couldn’t go on like this. It was his haunting silence and the increasing distance between them that frightened Rebecca. She dreaded to imagine what another year in the cabin would do to her husband, to their marriage. Fate owed them something, for Fate had thrown them together! In her Bible it said, “They that sow in tears shall reap in joy… bearing precious seeds.” They had shed more than their share of tears and endured more than their portion of pain; they had borne three precious seeds. It was time for the seeds of fury and denial to blow away; it was time to reap a much deserved harvest of joy and peace.

Rebecca rested her head and shoulders against the wooden surface behind her. She closed her eyes and recalled blissful moments from their bittersweet past. Bright Arrow had captured her during a raid on her uncle’s wagon train. He had stood proud and powerful before her after slaying a soldier who was trying to rape her. She had been mesmerized by his handsome physique and drawn to his gentle manner. He had appeared as a earth-bound god before her absorbing senses, a provocative blending of blacks and bronzes. His body had been sleek and hard, and his jet eyes had shone with victory and intrigue. It had seemed as if no power in existence could prevent their attraction to each other.

Abruptly, another warrior, a cruel and hostile brave, had laid claim to her. Yet a magical and mystical bond had been forged between Rebecca and Bright Arrow in those brief moments when they had gazed into each other’s eyes. As he fought the challenging warrior to retain her, she had escaped into the forest. She had run and walked for hours, trying to be free of the grim sight left behind in the clearing. Bright Arrow had pursued her and captured her. Despite his awesome strength and power over her life, he had awakened a never-ending passion within her as he claimed her body later that night. In the following weeks, many hours of sensual pleasure on his mats had deepened the bonds of that first rapturous night. Soon she not only belonged to him in body, but also in heart and spirit as well.

Bright Arrow’s parents, especially his father, had resisted their union. The dauntless Sioux chief had done all within his power to influence his son to part with her. Other tribe members had tried to encourage him to send her away, to sell her, even to slay her. Nothing and no one could persuade him to be rid of her.

He had loved and desired her so greatly that no taunts, jests, reasons, or pleas could compel her departure. Rebecca remembered how hard she had worked to prove her value and loyalty to her captor and his people, but nothing had obliterated the fact that this object of their future chief’s forbidden desires was white. Bright Arrow had been advised and threatened by the council; still he had held fast to her. How could she have resisted or denied such love and sacrifice on his part? She could not.

The time her love had been captured by the soldiers to ransom for Chief Gray Eagle, she had risked her life to save her love’s. Later, when her ruse had been uncovered, he had returned to the fort to rescue her! When his council had realized that Bright Arrow’s feelings were growing stronger and bolder with each day, they had attempted a desperate and final measure “to free him from the evil white spirit who enslaved him and blinded him to his duty and destiny.” The council had demanded her departure, by trade or death or release. Otherwise, Bright Arrow would be exiled, banished until he could sate his lust for her and return to his people free of her distracting magic and evil allure. Bright Arrow had tried to call their bluff. For years he had waited for his tribe to call him back; but not a word had been sent.

In the beginning, here, at their cabin, they had been happy; they had been free of insults and demands. Oh, they had loved and shared a passion and zeal to make the gods envious! They had experienced a burning love a man and a woman could hope to find only once in a lifetime. How could anyone have expected them to sacrifice such feelings?

Born a creature of nature, Bright Arrow had been eager to make love in any place and at any time. He especially enjoyed lovemaking beneath the stars and moon or in the sheltering forest in early morning or mid-afternoon. As Rebecca drowsed on the bench in the warm sun, her dreamy mind recalled one such delightful union…

It was shortly after the noon meal and the girls were napping. Tashina was seven weeks old, and they had not made love since the month before her birth in midJanuary. It had been a mild winter, and early March seemed almost like spring. Bright Arrow had suggested a walk while the girls slept. He grinned mischievously as he tossed a blanket over his right arm and held out an inviting hand. His dark eyes twinkled with lights of promise, and Rebecca smiled and tingled as she slipped her smaller hand into his large one.

Together they strolled a short distance from the warm cabin. The air was crisp and refreshing. Nature was taking on a new face of supple greens and birds sang joyfully as they realized that winter was past. Bright Arrow halted his movements and dropped the blanket to the ground. He stood within inches of her, yet he didn’t touch her physically. His softened eyes seemed content to roam over her flushed features, engulfing her in waves of anticipation his magnetic gaze always evoked. As if she were a prize filly, he appreciatively examined her. A warm glow covered her body, chasing away the slight chill in the air.

Bright Arrow lifted his finger to touch her lips, to ever so slowly move over them. His hands captured her face and tilted it for a full view. The dam that had held Back their desires for so many weeks was shattered, allowing a surge of passion to spill forth. And still his probing gaze caressed her face with a matchless tenderness, which caused her heart to race with her respiration. His hands moved at a snail’s pace down her throat to lightly grasp her shoulders. Deftly he unbuttoned her dress and removed each of her garments. Without taking his eyes from hers, he cast the clothing aside. His fingertips drifted sensuously over her bare flesh, enticing tremors throughout her body.

Bright Arrow leaned forward and fastened his eager mouth to hers. His tongue darted between her lips and played tag with hers. He kissed her eyes, then tormented her earlobes. Leisurely his lips traveled down her neck and teased the flesh over each shoulder and across her collarbone. When his seeking mouth found a taut nipple on a passion-sensitive breast, a moan came from Rebecca’s parted lips. Soon warm breath and moisture tormented both points until she shivered with longing and pleasure. Strong bronze hands journeyed down her sides and eased around her hips to take hold of firm buttocks. He carefully kneaded them as his mouth worked at her breasts. Rebecca’s head swayed from side to side as the tension mounted within her hungry body. She was aware of each caress, each kiss, each stirring movement. They produced glorious sensations which only birthed a longing for more, an aching which drove her senses wild.

Bright Arrow’s lips wandered down the cleft between her breasts, halting briefly to tease her navel before continuing along a deliberate path in search of another peak which mutely demanded his attention and talents. He laid his coppery chin against the auburn softness which surrounded the precious mound like a lush forest. His smooth cheek caressed it. As exploring interlopers, his fingers parted the reddish brown forest which guarded her most private territory. His tongue skillfully invaded the smooth area and lovingly labored to bring her to the height of eagerness, and it was with gloriously agonizing difficulty that he held back from sending his nearly uncontrollable shaft into her enticing cave of wondrous magic.

Rebecca’s body quivered with delight. Her breath came in quick, short gasps as his tongue and hands brought tantalizing sensations to her. Soft moans and pleas escaped from her mouth as her tongue moved over her dry lips again and again. For a time, she thought she might faint as the sensual provocation increased.

Suddenly the blissful torture ceased as Bright Arrow straightened to remove his garments. He hastily spread out the blanket and turned to reach for her. Rebecca’s golden brown eyes were glazed with a fierce craving that matched his own. As she started to kneel to take possession of the tempting treat which beckoned to her to sample its nectar, Bright Arrow gently grasped her shoulders and shook his head. He breathlessly warned, “Not this sun, little heart. I fear my hold over him is strained too much.” As her hand encircled the torrid flesh, he shuddered and hoarsely whispered, “Later, when our passions do not burn as wildfires.”

Rebecca understood and accepted his precaution. It had been so long since they had been together like this, and both were starving for this sensual meal. She lay down without modesty or hesitation. Her eyes journeyed up the full length of his iron-muscled body. While he took a moment to cool his flaming senses, Bright Arrow observed her intense study of him.

His legs were firm and smooth. His hips were narrow and his stomach taut and flat. His manhood stood erect and proud, a large, smooth staff displaying its readiness and greedy appetite. His hairless chest bespoke his immense physical strength, as did his muscular arms. His was a body honed to perfection, for agility, for victory. His arresting face with its ebony eyes, full lips, and magnificent bone structure enchanted her. Shiny, midnight black hair teased the nape of his neck. His bronze flesh was stretched tightly over his splendid frame like a hide staked for tanning, its smooth lines broken only by rippling muscles. He was such a stimulating male, and Rebecca knew he belonged to her. Her pulse quickened with joy and love.

Rebecca’s gaze fused with Bright Arrow’s, her tawny eyes speaking messages of love and urgency to his ebony ones. He joined her on the blanket, and the chilly breeze was ignored in the heat of shared passion. Again he lavished his attention upon her lips and breasts until she begged for their union. His finger tempted her lower peak to stand rigid and quivering beneath his caress. Finding her ready to accept him, he lay atop her, and gently slid his hard maleness into her receptive body, creating a sensation of bliss which almost erupted into a blazing, allconsuming fire.

Rebecca’s body arched upward, taking his entire length. As he moved with care and experience, she matched her rhythm to his. Bright Arrow whispered raggedly, “I love you, little heart. I have missed this closeness with you. You have enslaved my heart and body.”

At such moments, Rebecca knew he didn’t resent the sacrifices he had made in order to have her. As they fondled each other, they hungrily sought fulfillment. It was joyous to share such a special union. Each was aware of the other’s needs, giving and taking for mutual satisfaction. Wildly and skillfully they rode the waves of titillating desires. The world receded for a time as Bright Arrow and Rebecca Kenny came together to blend bodies and spirits.

From many days and nights of lovemaking, signals had been learned and now were given mutely, given with responses and touches. Each sensed how close to rapture the other was, and they adjusted their loving attentions to meet at the peak of passion simultaneously. Prisoners of desire and enchantment, they remained bound together as ecstasy assailed and consumed them. Their bodies blended time and again until every blissful spasm ceased and they were enveloped in the warmth of contentment and sated senses.

Bright Arrow’s lips brushed over Rebecca’s mouth several times. He kissed the tip of her nose and each closed eye. He trailed kisses over her cheeks and brows. He whispered words of love and satisfaction into her ears. He was always tender and sensitive after making love, as if he hated to release her until compelled to do so. And, as they had so many other times after a union, they lay entwined on the blanket, silently and lovingly holding each other, savoring their triumphant joining…

As Rebecca shifted her numb buttocks on the wooden bench, reality came back in shocking force. She opened her eyes and glanced around the clearing. Bright Arrow had not returned from the stream. She felt so lonely, so frustrated, so dejected. The dreamy recollection had stirred in her body fierce hunger. It had been so long since they had made love passionately, uninhibitedly, thoroughly. She longed for such feelings and experiences to be shared again.

Why had Bright Arrow lost all interest in lovemaking? Why did he pretend to be sleeping many nights or too exhausted other nights? Why did he turn a deaf ear or cold shoulder to her whenever she became amorous? He had created her sensual appetite and had fed it for years! Why starve her now? Why did he refuse to share this special part of himself? The distance and coolness between them tormented her. She squeezed her eyes tightly as tears ran down her cheeks. She feared it would never be that way between them again.

The early spring weather was still cool, but the afternoon sun felt warm and relaxing. Rebecca sat in deep thought for another hour, then arose to enter the cabin and begin their evening meal. If a change was to be made in their lives, the decision would have to come from him, she decided. All she could do was show Bright Arrow how much she loved him and needed him, for she did still love and desire him. Yet she couldn’t help but pray for the return of the man he had been long ago; she couldn’t help but resent his faded image.

Lately he had become quieter, more remote. He had lost all interest in making love to her, in talking with her, in sharing her company. He paid little attention to the children or to his chores. He spent hours alone in pensive study. What was he thinking and feeling?

A storm was brewing within him. Icy fingers seemed to grasp her heart and to squeeze it painfully as she comprehended that love was not enough for a man like Bright Arrow. She asked herself how long it would be before he confronted this same reality? How long before his dissatisfaction erupted into a violent explosion? When that time came, how would he deal with the situation? Would be hold her responsible for his living death? Would he betray and desert her? Would he sacrifice all he possessed to regain his past glory?

She wept, for by asking herself such questions and by experiencing such feelings, the heartrending state of their relationship was finally revealed to her.

June 22, 1804

Despite the mild breeze from the forest which encircled the cabin and clearing, the summer heat and mugginess encouraged the small children to be fretful. Rebecca couldn’t recall a year when it had been so hot this early in the season. She wished Bright Arrow would return home and take them to the nearby pond for a swim and picnic, or at least for a refreshing walk in the woods. Surely that wasn’t too much to expect from a dutiful husband and father! This downward spiral of Bright Arrow’s was drawing her to depressing and perilous depths which she didn’t want to visit. She was rapidly approaching the point where her maternal and survival instincts would compel her to make a drastic choice: her children and herself or her misguided mate.

When Bright Arrow went hunting, he always insisted that Rebecca and the girls remain inside, with windows and doors barred. Today she was too vexed to obey his orders. These last few months, atop the past few years, had been as merciless and demanding on her as they had been on him! He wasn’t the only one affected by their predicament. She was as torpid and gloomy as he. Besides the cabin chores and caring for her girls, there was little else to feed her emotions or to challenge her mind. It was becoming harder to conceal her ill feelings, contain her resentment, or retain her hope.

It was lonely and depressing here in the wilderness, especially with a husband who hardly seemed to notice his wife’s presence. Rebecca yearned for her love’s touch and smile, his tenderness and attention. For months he had been making love at her, not to her, making love as if it were a duty he wanted over as quickly as possible. And lately he hadn’t touched her at all. At first she had tried playfully and sensuously to seduce him; he had pretended to misread her signals. With this added tension, she accepted the fact that it was only a matter of time before her own simmering fury exploded, only a matter of time before she no longer tried, or cared.

Banishment had been a difficult and heavy burden for each of them! In the beginning, she had believed he was unintentionally making it worse for himself and his family. But could she say that now? No. Were his bruised pride and bitterness causing him to punish all of them? Had he made any attempt at reconciliation with his people? Did he erroneously believe that he deserved this cruel treatment? Had he selected this nearly deserted area to insure their safety, or to prevent contact with his past friends and allies? They had done nothing wrong! Who were his people to judge and to ostracize them! How long would it be before Bright Arrow admitted that his tribe would never send for them! Frustration and anger chewed at Rebecca, and she became furious because his exile was destroying their happiness and she felt utterly helpless.

Rebecca couldn’t even recall the last time she had seen or spoken with another female. As for their girls, only their eldest daughter had seen another child since birth—once! If they couldn’t attend school, she wanted books with which to teach them. How could they survive if Bright Arrow were injured or became gravely ill? What would happen to her family if she fell ill or died, or to her children if she and her husband were both taken with a fever as her parents had been? This isolation could be fatal for all of them. It was lonely and unnecessary, and the winters locked inside the cabin were an added burden.

She had been patient, loving, supportive, and understanding. But now these emotions and traits were strained. They needed friends for emotional nourishment. They needed neighbors for diversion and for assistance in times of hardship or peril. They needed supplies. This life of barely existing was aging them too quickly. How could her husband ignore these emotional and physical necessities? How long could they go on this way? She had been willing to deny herself to live with his people. Why shouldn’t he do the same for her, as it was his people who had rejected them? Could she demand a better life for them, a life near a white settlement or with another friendly tribe? Would that demand lance this festering boil? Would it excise and cleanse its putrid infection? Did she dare?

As the humid day sluggishly crawled toward late afternoon, Rebecca’s nerves became frayed from the stuffiness and the girls’ whimperings. Any attempt to entertain them was met with defiance and fussiness. Annoyingly low on supplies, she could not distract them with a treat. Even if he despised the whites, Rebecca told herself, her husband would soon have to trade for their needs. He had been so strange these last months, refusing to go near any white for any reason. Yet his blunted hunting skills had brought home little meat, and they had great need of other supplies, supplies which were vanishing as rapidly as her spirits.

The heat of the cabin seemed only to increase her smoldering ire. Rebecca tossed aside caution and opened the door for fresh air. That action served to enlarge her misery, for the two older girls darted past her to play chase outside. Even Tashina bubbled with laughter and rapidly toddled in the direction of freedom and her sisters’ giggles. For the first time, she almost wished she didn’t have any children, children who prevented her escape from this soul-draining place. She immediately chided herself for thinking such evil and selfish thoughts.

Rebecca sighed heavily and pursued them. When she attempted to force them back inside, she was met with screams and rebellion. Clearly the children were as moody and bored as she was. She could hardly blame them, for Bright Arrow had been away since dawn. It was nearing five, and the locked cabin was unbearable.

Surely he would return at any moment. Besides, they rarely saw anyone out here, friendly or hostile, other than a few men passing by on their way westward past the Black Hills or eastward to the Lake Traverse Trading Post. At those times, all she was allowed to do was serve refreshments or a brief meal. If an amiable man spent the night, it was outside with her husband on sleeping rolls. How she missed polite or stimulating conversation, warm smiles, exciting news!

Surely there was no harm in taking the girls to play and to cool themselves in the nearby stream? Someone had to be concerned with their happiness and health! As a precaution, Rebecca took the loaded gun which Bright Arrow had bought from Jean Truteau of the Spanish Trading Company, where her husband made most of his purchases or exchanges.

Because he had been taught from birth to kill the Great Spirit’s creatures only for food or clothing or other necessities, Bright Arrow had refused to trap or shoot more animals than necessary for their survival. Instead, he traded the “shiny yellow rocks,” which he found along the riverbanks near the Black Hills, or the lovely rose quartz for any necessities that they could not make or find. Though he had been offered many supplies in exchange for red stone, he had refused to give the white man the special stone which was used for pipes and other objects. The red stone grounds were sacred, but neutral, territory for any tribe. Rebecca had tried to explain such matters to her husband, but Bright Arrow had claimed he couldn’t understand why the white men were so greedy for colored rocks. He had declared that the whites were a strange and devious breed who no doubt thought the rocks held Indian magic and power. He could be such a superstitious creature at times! she had mused.

When they had first moved into this area years before, Bright Arrow had been determined to prove they could survive without his people, survive on his courage and cunning. For the defense of his family, he had bargained for two guns, ball, powder, flints, two hatchets, and several sturdy knives. For his home and wife, he had traded for sewing implements, cooking kettles, salt, flour, blankets, cloth, and personal items which had brought smiles to her lips and doelike eyes. To make his home safer and stronger, he had purchased two hammers, a saw, an awl, nails, and other tools. In order to gather the coveted yellow and pink rocks more easily and rapidly and hurry home to his family, he had traded for a pickaxe. Then early this year, he had changed drastically. He began avoiding all whites and had refused to trade with them. She wondered why.

As Little Feet and Moon Eyes splashed and laughed beside her, Rebecca held Tashina’s hands while she wiggled her toes into the sand at the bottom of the creek. When the shadows began to lengthen, Rebecca firmly told the girls it was time to return home. Fatigued and refreshed, they all complied without a fuss. Rebecca lifted Tashina into her arms and headed down the path with the other girls trailing her closely. She sighed happily, for it had been a pleasant outing.

Once inside, Rebecca fed Tashina while Little Feet and Moon Eyes gaily feasted with their fingers on the last of the wild berries that she had gathered. That was one distracting task she had sorely missed, for in the past when she had gone to gather wild fruits and vegetables, Bright Arrow had been compelled to go along and spend time with her. She couldn’t go alone, and lately he had appeared reluctant to escort her. No doubt, she mused bitterly, because such outings had been fun, even romantic, in the past!

She was grateful that her girls were good eaters and that they hadn’t rebelled at the lack of variety in their diets. As soon as the meal was consumed, Rebecca put the girls to bed, smiling and kissing each child. To her surprise and relief, all three were asleep within minutes, and love surged through her as she watched them.

Her children were deeply ensnared by slumber, their faces glowing in the soft light of the lantern burning low in the back corner. Suddenly she was assailed by terrible loneliness and a fierce hunger that had nothing to do with food. She wished as she had so many times before that Bright Arrow would not spend so much time avoiding her or so much energy pretending nothing was wrong. Once winter had passed, he had spent as many hours outside as possible, feigning masculine chores. At night, only his body lay beside her, for his spirit and mind roamed territories which she wasn’t allowed to share. He might as well leave and return to his people, she thought, for he wasn’t here with her.

Rebecca walked to the doorway and gazed outside. As surely as the moon was shining, the end was near for them, if some drastic act didn’t stir him from his daze. As her tawny eyes surveyed the view, she rested her smooth cheek against the door jamb. A full mo. . .