Authors: Janelle Taylor
The Indian custom was to rest after lunch, but
Miranda was too excited to take a nap. Her
grandfather was in a council meeting, discussing the
reports of two scouts who had returned during her
bath. She decided to stroll around the camp to study
the artistic adventures painted on the teepees while
the village was still and quiet. Within an hour, she
was at the edge of camp. She strolled to a large tree
and leaned against it, her contented gaze sweeping
over the sight of her grandfather's immense village.
The thunderous sound of many hoofbeats seized
her rambling attention. Panic filled her as she recalled tales of surprise raids on Indian camps. She
rashly jumped from behind the tree, stepping into
the path of a band of returning warriors. She
screamed as she was knocked face down to the hard
and dusty ground by the leader's horse.
In their elated and distracted mood, the leader and
his band almost raced over the reckless and inquisitive girl who had stepped from behind the tree. He
was relieved to see she had been thrown aside before
being trampled by the pounding hooves of seven
horses. The startled warrior agilely bounded off his
horse to check on her. He was scolding her furiously as she lifted her head to present his stunned senses
with the same beautiful face which filled his dreams!
Both were silent as they stared at each other. His
astute gaze flashed over her tawny eyes and sunkissed skin, and the unmarred flesh which had been
soiled by her fall. Her hair was as soft and dark as a
bearskin, braided neatly. Having been about to
speak, her lips were parted, displaying a mouth
which was provocative and whose taste and softness
he recalled too well. Her wide gaze revealed her
astonishment at seeing him again. Yet, there was
another emotion emblazoned there, an emotion
which caused his loins to flame with desire, a
response which made him forget where he was or
who he was!
Miranda could not pull her captive. gaze from the
magnetic attraction of this man who had haunted her
dreams for many weeks. Here he was before her once
more, here with his arresting features and strong,
virile body. He was like an intoxicating blend of
stormy black and molten bronze. Her mouth was
suddenly dry and she could not speak. Her heart was
racing madly and she could not think. Her eyes were
glued to him and she could not free them. Intense
desire flooded her as she stared at this embodiment of
manhood, this savage and powerful warlord of the
Plains, this captor of her heart and inspiration of her
fantasies. In her wildest imagination, she had not
thought of finding him again, and surely not here in
her grandfather's camp! How fortunate he had come
to visit before her departure.
The mutual trance which seemed to hold them was
broken when the other warriors dismounted and
surged forward to demand the identity of the
beautiful Indian maiden. Miranda watched the
mood of the handsome warrior as it changed rapidly,
confusingly. His face was unpainted today, giving
her a clear view of his mounting fury and resentment,
reactions she could not understand. With feet
planted apart in an arrogant and forbidding stance,
he glared at her, refusing to offer her assistance in
rising. He merely gaped at the hand she extended
entreatingly for his help, gaped as if it were leprous.
For a brief time, she had presumed he was glad to
see her. Now, he was acting as if they were strangers,
foes. She had watched coldness cover the warmth on
his face and freeze his eyes. Why? She slowly and
gracefully stood up and dusted off her clothes and
bare arms. The other males were laughing, teasing,
and ribbing each other as they watched her closely,
watched her and the curious behavior of their leader.
Miranda did not know what to say.
He stood tall and erect, recalling the day he had
secretly watched her riding with the female scout
from Fort Sully. He berated himself for not capturing
her that day or one of the other times they had met.
He knew where she lived, in that small wooden
teepee near the fort. He knew a white man shared that
teepee, the one who had traveled with her to his land.
Now she was the captive of another warrior, out of
his reach forever. He cursed his pride which had
prevented her capture, his ego which had wanted to be spared the teasing and taunting of other warriors
at his taking a white slave. In the back of his mind, he
had known he would fall prey to his desires one day.
He had known he would attack that cabin during the
night and ride away with her bound to his body, to
become his slave. Now that was impossible; he could
never take her after another manl
The instant that thought left his tormented mind,
he knew it was a lie. She could not be blamed for her
capture, or any treatment afterward. He had seen the
way her eyes lit up with joy and relief when they
touched upon him. Whatever price her captor asked,
he would pay it. He had to pay it and have her. Yet,
his honor had to remain intact. He could not reveal
love and desire for this white girl. He silently prayed
she had not been injured, then realized how exceptionally clean and healthy she appeared. Surely she
wasn't Indian or half-blooded? Surely she wasn't
some warrior's wife or willing whorel
Miranda and the others were stunned and baffled
when he sarcastically demanded to know whose
captive whore she was. Before she could recover from
the staggering insult to respond, others questioned
his words to her. He coldly revealed she was a white
girl from Fort Sully who had come to this land
recently. He told them she had been on the boat he
had trailed while stalking the two soldiers he had
been ordered to slay. He related how they had been
killed by a forest warrior while trying to rape this
very girl.
Unaware she understood his words and the
degrading meaning behind them, she was speechless
in disbelief and anguish. She did not realize the
warrior was infuriated by his stupefied reaction to
her, angered in his belief that she was out of his reach,
nettled by his weakness toward her before his band.
Miranda's watchful and wary gaze shifted from
warrior to warrior as they stared at her differently
now, disdainfully.
When he cruelly asked again in English whose
whore she was her wits and words returned in a fury
of her own. "No man's! Get away from me, you
savage beast!" She whirled to leave.
The warrior's hand snaked out and grabbed her
wrist painfully, yanking her against his hard chest
and rigid body. "Whose teepee holds such a sharp
tongue and brazen whore?" he pressed boldly as the
others watched his curious actions, for one warrior
did not touch another's slave.
Through clenched teeth, she snapped in vexation,
"I am no man's whore. I sleep in the teepee of Bloody
Arrow and Sun Cloud."
She was determined to yank free of this insolent,
smug, and cruel master of her heart. She owed him no
explanation! "Release me before I cut off your
offensive hand! Don't ever touch me or come near me
again," she threatened.
Her previous statements had enticed a strange
reaction. "You live in the teepee of Sun Cloud and
Bloody Arrow?" he pressed skeptically.
Since he was speaking in English, so did she. "Yes.
Sun Cloud will slay you if you harm me," she warned
icily.
"You do not belong to Bloody Arrow?" He
needed clarification but wondered what he would do
if she said yes.
"Of course not!" she sneered as if insulted. "I
belong to Sun Cloud," she added vaguely, wanting to
flee this painful scene. His grip was as firm and
confining asa band of steel.
Sun Cloud was told of the quarrel outside camp
involving Tamaha and the warriors. He arrived and
demanded her release. Miranda fled into the protective and affectionate embrace of her grandfather,
trying not to sob. Sun Cloud smiled at her and patted
her shoulder, his gaze settling angrily on the man
who had dared such an offense.
One of the younger warriors rashly teased, "Surely
our old chief does not take a white whore to his mats
at his great age? If she is for trade, speak her price," he
coaxed, as others added their bids.
Outrage filled the older man. He drilled his snowclouded, ebony eyes into the oddly furious leader of
this group. With a distinct voice, he informed them,
"This is Tamaha, my granddaughter, child of
Morning Star, my daughter. Do not ever touch or
insult her again, or I will forget I am an old man. I
will paint for a challenge with the warrior who dares
to dishonor or hurt her, including you, Blazing
Star."
At that name, Miranda's head jerked upward and
she stared at the man whom her grandfather had
called Blazing Star. As if no one else were present, she
asked in a trembling voice, "You're Blazing Star?"
He had shown astonishment at her identity, but he
blinked in disbelief when she spoke fluent Oglala.
When he nodded, she paled, suddenly realizing what
distinctive and dream-inspiring odor had assailed
her each night, each night upon this man's sleeping
mat.
Miranda told Sun Cloud she was fine. She left her
grandfather's embrace to flee as if demons were
chasing her. When Sun Cloud questioned their
strange behavior, Blazing Star asked the others to
leave for privacy. He explained how he knew
Miranda. Sun Cloud asked him why she had fled in
fear; Blazing Star honestly replied he did not know.
The old chief asked what had taken place between
them today. Blazing Star ruefully repeated his words,
abruptly comprehending that she had known what
he said. Sun Cloud related her arrival and story.
"She did not know about me?" he inquired
anxiously.
"She has heard many tales of the great warrior
called Blazing Star, from Indians and whites. She has
not asked about a warrior who saved her from the
grizzly, who paints his face as you do. She has not
asked who shoots arrows tipped with red and black.
She sleeps upon your mat each moon. You return
before enough suns pass. She is to leave soon. I did not tell her you lived in my teepee," he replied.
He was dismayed she had not inquired about him,
since she had understood his Sioux words at each
meeting. Her identity explained her previous lack of
fear or scorn toward him. Blazing Star was intrigued
by where she was sleeping and her reaction at seeing
him. She had not expected the man who met her
secretly to be the famed Blazing Star. "Did Bloody
Arrow tell her I live in your teepee?" he pressed
oddly.
"I do not know. Why do you ask such a question?"
Blazing Star deceived the old man by saying
defensively, "She will be eager to leave now that I am
home and she uses my mat."
"We can borrow a mat for her for two moons," he
announced.
"Two moons?" Blazing Star echoed in bewilderment.
"She was to stay for five suns; three have passed.
She will return to her people soon," Sun Cloud
explained.
"Why must she go?" the warrior asked quietly.
"You know why, Blazing Star. Soon the white
waters will try to roll over us and drown us. I do not
wish her to find pain and death. She has been raised
white; she must return to that world."
"She does not wish to live here with her grandfather?" he pried.
"She has not asked. If she does, I will refuse. I
must," he stated sadly, sounding as old and weary as
he looked at that moment.
"What of the white man who traveled with her?"
he questioned.
Sun Cloud looked at him. "He is as Bloody Arrow
to her. Luke puts words on papers for others to read.
He comes secretly and cunningly as the fox, seeking
to record the soldiers' evil. His eyes are on butchers
and Yellowhair. And your eyes speak words I have
not seen written there before. Do I see love and desire?
Do I read pain and anger? Do I read jealousy and
shame? Tell me if these eyes are too old and clouded."
Blazing Star fused his gaze to Sun Cloud's. He
replied truthfully, "I cannot explain feelings I do not
understand. There is a pull from her as strong and
mysterious as the one to our sacred hills. I have
resisted its power and magic, for I believed her white.
But...
When he wavered in confusion, Sun Cloud smiled
and remarked, "But she is not. She is the granddaughter of a chief, the daughter of a princess, from
the blood of Gray Eagle."
"Such truth makes trouble for us, Grandfather,"
he concluded aloud, using the endearing name he
called this beloved man. He chuckled as he said, "I
hurt her with cruel words, yet she fought as a wildcat,
Grandfather. Can she be tamed?"
"The answer is, who should be the man to try?" he
jested slyly.
"Has another warrior cast hungry eyes upon her?"
he asked worriedly, wondering if he must battle for
her.
"Many," Sun Cloud replied mirthfully. "But none have brought the lights to her eyes as you did," he
whispered devilishly.
Blazing Star recalled their past meetings and
smiled happily. The smile quickly faded as he
recalled his behavior today. "I must speak with her,"
he declared, dreading her reaction.
A lone rider approached with a message from
Bloody Arrow, telling Sun Cloud the band had
joined with one from the Cheyenne camp. They were
heading into the Black Hills to make raids upon the
camps of white trappers who had intruded upon
their sacred ground. The message stated they would
be gone for one or two moons. The rider mounted up
again and headed to join his friends on their bloodthirsty trek.
Blazing Star smiled and remarked roguishly, "We
have no need now to borrow a sleeping mat,
Grandfather."
The two exchanged smiles and matching thoughts.
At Blazing Star's request, Sun Cloud headed for the
special council meeting. Blazing Star returned to
their teepee to find Miranda sitting on the ground
near the stone pit used for cooking. Lost in thought,
she failed to hear his approach. It was a stirring voice
which had become familiar to her that broke her
intense concentration.