Lakota Flower (8 page)

To prevent thinking about the handsome man whose virile body was touching hers in the snug space, Caroline stared at the impenetrable and noisy curtain of liquid that poured over the end of the ledge and sealed them off from the assailed world. The depth and downward angle of the
shelf and gentle slope of the ground prevented water from flowing into the shelter, though splatters on the hard ground bounced toward them and dampened his leggings, her skirttail, and their footwear. She saw shiny reflections on the lambent veil when frequent lightning flashed outside and she heard the grumblings of thunder as if it were a hungry and angered beast. She listened to the sounds of rain beating down on the overhang, hard earth, and nature’s greenery. Despite the fact they were enclosed and it was summer, the small area did not get stuffy from a lack of airflow. In fact, the deluge created cool and soothing sensations and a delightful smell of freshness.

Suddenly the ferocity of the storm increased, although Caroline had not thought that was possible. A bolt of lightning shot down near their location and sent forth a thunderous
crack,
which caused her to jump and shriek in fright. Uncontrollably she whirled sideways, flung her arms around his waist, and buried her face against his chest as she trembled.

Without thinking, his arms embraced her of their own volition and held her against his body as he murmured again,
“Kopegla sni yo,
Kawa Cante. War Eagle protect. Great Spirit shoot Fire Arrows. Wakinyan flap wings, make … noise,” he said after his mind sought the right word as Cloud Chaser and Chumani had taught him.

“What or who is Wakinyan?” she asked to keep him talking to distract herself from the storm and his tantalizing appeal. With her cheek now resting on his chest, she heard the steady beat of his heart, which seemed a little fast for normal…

“Thunderbird. He good spirit. No fear him. You safe.”

Caroline was surprised and confused—and aroused—by his gentle manner and comforting overtures. For now, he was being compassionate, and that behavior and his tender tone encased her in a warm glow. “I’m afraid of bad storms, but I feel safe with you. Thank you, Wanbli, for being so kind and generous. How long do storms last out here?”

War Eagle comprehended the gist of her words and they pleased him, just as their contact enflamed his desire. “Great Spirit say … how long.”

“After the storm is gone, we’ll ride to the Cheyenne camp?”

Assuming the fallen tree in their path was a sacred signal from the Creator to turn back and to keep her, he replied, “No. Grandfather say return to camp if sign come from Great Spirit to turn back.”

Caroline’s shocked mind ventured,
He discussed you with Nahemana?
Was the shaman, she wondered, the person who had suggested she be sent away to maintain harmony in their camp and between relatives, not War Eagle? Yet, it sounded as if Nahemana … She lifted her head and looked at him in bewilderment. “But I thought you were taking me to the Cheyenne camp. What sign are you taking about?”

“Fire Arrow strike tree, tree fall, path closed. It mean, go back.”

She surmised that he believed his God had placed a barrier in their path and they should not go around or over it. He was taking her back home with him? But what about his reasons for sending her away? “What will Two Feathers say and do when I return?”

All he did was shake his head as if to respond he did not know, or as if it no longer mattered to him after receiving a divine sign from his God.

Caroline knew there was another angle to be considered and she broached it. “When war comes, I could endanger your camp by being there; I wouldn’t want to be responsible for suffering and deaths.” Besides, she had a better chance of freedom arid rejoining her brother in the Cheyenne camp, didn’t she? “You must not take me back to your camp.”

War Eagle was touched by what he thought was her concern for their safety and survival. “What mean …
re-sponsi-ble?
What mean …
suffering?”

“Responsible means …” Caroline paused to think of how to explain those words to him, then began by touching her
chest and saying, “I caused bad to come.” She spoke slowly to give him time to mentally translate or to reason out her words. “Responsible means soldiers come and attack your camp to rescue me, to punish Red Shields for attacking soldiers in the wagons and stealing me. Suffering means injuries, wounds, deaths, burn tepees, destroy food, shoot with … thundersticks. Do you understand?”

“War Eagle understand.” She would blame herself for causing the soldiers to attack them. She was wrong, as an attack would come whether or not she was among them, and he doubted the bluecoats would know she was their captive before they did so. Yet, it warmed his soul to hear that concern worried her. Macha was right at the stream: Caroline was good-hearted, unlike the enemy white-skins who wanted their land and wanted them slain or pushed out of this territory. “Man, woman born to live, die; it Great Circle of Life. War Eagle no fear ghost ride to Creator. Good man, woman return to Wakantanka. Spirit of bad man, woman not go to Him. War Eagle obey Great Spirit command; He say you go back.”

As he gazed into her blue eyes and sensed her lingering concern, War Eagle finally admitted to himself that Two Feathers was not totally to blame for his decision and action; he had feared Caroline’s potent effect on him and had been desperate to end it by separating them, to sacrifice her to save himself and his honor. Now, he knew that losing her would not accomplish that.

As she observed the man in such deep thought, Caroline murmured, “I wonder what it would be like to kiss you.”

Grasping the gist of her words, War Eagle asked, “What
kiss
mean?”

Caroline blushed and averted her gaze, shocked and embarrassed by her slip. When he pressed for an answer, she looked at him and explained, “It means to touch my mouth to yours,” as she placed fingers first on her lips and then on his,
then lowered her quivering hand to his chest. She watched him stare at her for a few moments before he reacted.

War Eagle’s left hand cupped her jawline to prevent her from lowering her head again as he bent forward and meshed their lips, his right arm still cradling her against his body. He wanted, needed, yearned, to know how it would feel to “kiss” her and could not resist her unintentional invitation to do so. He had meant for the action to be short and light, but when she responded and his self-control weakened, the kiss became long and profound and tender. Every part of him came alive with desire and delight. His emotions took flight and sang as joyously as a colorful songbird. Within his head, his thoughts were only of her, of this heady experience, and this awesome coup. Within his body, a sensual hunger for her increased at a rapid pace. Within his heart, her lovely flower bloomed and pervaded his senses with her special scent of passionate submission. Within his soul, he somehow knew he had seen, smelled, touched, heard, and tasted an intrinsic part of his destiny. Every part of him urged him to take and savor each moment and sensation, the exposure and outpouring of their innermost feelings. Yet, something he could not grasp, perhaps the voice of the Great Spirit, whispered to him not to go beyond kissing and embracing and he was compelled to obey.

As for Caroline, when she had witnessed his imminent intent to sate her curiosity and perhaps his own, she had lacked the will and strength to pull away or to protest. She feared, whether she returned to his camp or was taken onward to the Cheyenne’s out of self-defense, this would be the only chance to discover why and how he affected and enchanted her so deeply and strongly. She wondered where she had gotten the courage—no, boldness—to tempt him with a kiss.

War Eagle realized their desires were increasing to a hazardous level. As with the fallen-tree signal, they could travel
this reckless path no longer and must return to the way things had been between them before they kissed and revealed their feelings. He must behave as if he had been doing nothing more than sating her curiosity, performing a generous deed. With great difficulty, he released his hold on her and leaned against the rock behind him. As he gazed forward, he said,
“Magaju
go fast. We ride soon.”

Caroline took a deep breath to calm her tension and tremblings, to quell her wayward passions. The magic and intimacy of the moment were gone, shoved aside by him, and that was for the best at this stage of their relationship. She glanced beyond their sheltered position and nodded. Whether
“magaju”
meant
storm
or
rain,
both were leaving the area at a steady pace. She straightened her dress and body, lifting and hugging her knees. She realized how easily and quickly she could have submitted to him, surrendered to wild and wonderful passion, and that astonished her, since they were almost strangers and were enemies of a sort and she had been reared as a lady. She had never experienced such feelings or weakness with any of her past beaux, not even with William Crawford when he had courted her. Why, she mused, did she experience them with this particular man, one out of her reach?

When War Eagle noted how late it was, he said, “Night come soon. We camp here. I go tend horses.”

“Do you need help making camp?” she offered as she realized he had been speaking better English since they reached the winter campsite.

“No. Stay.”
I need to be alone,
and he supposed she did, too, for them to recover from their reckless lapse.

Caroline watched him leave the shelter and make his way toward the horses. Under these new circumstances, she wasn’t sure how she should behave. She imagined it was best to ignore the incident as if it had never happened, which is what she was certain he would do. She still was amazed that he had kissed and embraced her, held her for so long, comforted her
during the storm, and wasn’t acting ashamed or angered or as if she had lured him into evil. She also was amazed—relieved and grateful—that he had not taken advantage of the situation and had not tried to force her to submit to him. Shouldn’t that tell her he was not a savage or a lusty beast, that he was a gentleman? Tell her that he possessed kindness and integrity? Tell her that he might have good feelings for her and did not want to harm her in any way? Even if those assumptions were accurate, what did it matter in their situation? It mattered greatly to her, she decided, what kind of man he was.

As a nearly full moon rose in a now clear sky, Caroline curled on her side on a bed of black rock, the buffalo mats too wet to lie on for sleeping. Earlier, War Eagle had made it obvious to her that she was to stay beneath the ledge tonight while he camped with the horses in the tree line. He had brought her food and water, then left her alone to pass the night.

She rolled to her stomach and rested her head on her folded arms. The surface beneath her was smooth and flat, but it was hard and uncomfortable. A cool breeze wafted over her, fresh-smelling after the rain. She heard nocturnal animals, birds, frogs, and insects sending forth their own sounds and songs. She doubted she would get much sleep tonight, though she was fatigued from their long ride. But it wasn’t only fatigue that kept her awake, it also was thoughts of the man nearby and what she had shared with him today.

She remembered how it had felt to kiss him, to be in his arms, to hear his soothing voice, to view his handsome face, to perceive his desire for her, and to lose herself briefly in the wonder of … what? Love? Passion?

Caroline recalled how her hand had wandered over his broad chest and fingered the Sun Dance scars located there, one over each breast. Cloud Chaser had told her about that
awesome ceremony when he was explaining their customs, rituals, and beliefs. She could not imagine the full extent of the physical pain he had endured and survived, or a warrior’s fear and anguish that he might fail in his sacred task. She knew it was done as sacrifice, an offering of flesh and energy—his very life if need be—to Wakantanka, as a show of gratitude for blessings and to achieve total unity with his Great Spirit and heritage. She reasoned that it required enormous strength, courage, willpower, prowess and immense love and faith to accept such sufferings. No, her mind refuted, to actually create them by being pierced willingly and bound by those fresh wounds to a pole, by allowing himself to be tormented as he chanted and danced and struggled to jerk free, and to endure pain without flinching or screaming or ceasing until the thongs ripped away and victory was won.

He and his family must have been very proud of him that day. Cloud Chaser also had told her that a warrior’s honor, “his face,” was one of his most important possessions and he worked hard not “to lose” it. She wondered if “saving face” was the only reason War Eagle would reject her, as it surely wouldn’t be because he didn’t want her as a woman. She couldn’t be mistaken about his behavior earlier. Or could she? …

In the edge of the forest, War Eagle was having a restless and difficult time trying to ignore the woman nearby so he could get to sleep. He was not worried about an enemy slipping up on them as he dozed lightly when away from the safety of their camp. He had been foolish to expose his feelings for Caroline and to allow her to reveal hers for him. If he was not reading her signs wrong, she desired him as a man and did not look upon him as a “savage” or “hostile” or an enemy. Yet, how could he allow that to matter to him? How could he, a high warrior, a Sacred Bow Carrier, son of
the chief, grandson of the shaman, grandson of the past chief, take a white woman as his mate without appearing weak and sacrificing his honor? If there was a way, only the Great Spirit knew it, as he did not.

The next morning was pleasant beneath a serene blue sky. They had eaten, loaded their supplies, mounted, and left the secluded and enlightening setting. They had communicated mostly with motions and nods and had tried to avoid looking at each other any more than necessary, as if their hearts carried heavy burdens or they feared a repeat of yesterday’s lapse in their appointed roles as enemies.

They rode for what Caroline guessed to be two hours before they halted at a stream for the horses to drink. She was impressed by his care of his animals. To elude his temptation for a while, she excused herself in the bushes and was slowly returning to his side when trouble struck. Suddenly she found herself seized from behind, a hand over her mouth, a knife at her throat, and elbows somehow imprisoning her shoulders and arms. A man spoke to her in a whisper in a language she did not comprehend. “I don’t understand,” she told him when he slightly moved his hand from her mouth. Before she could scream for help, his strong and dirty hand was replaced.