Lakota Surrender (36 page)

He should be exhausted—he should be, but he wasn’t. He was exhilarated, triumphant. His Kristina was finally his. At last, she had accepted him, his way of life, and in the early morning hours, they had sealed their devotion to one another, their passion not letting up until only moments ago.

But Tahiska hadn’t fallen asleep. He couldn’t.

He glanced down at his wife. He had never seen anyone more beautiful; and she was his.

He could feel her furry mound against his leg now as they lay entwined and he grimaced at his own immediate response to her. He sighed, glancing toward the ceiling. He should let her sleep. They had made love this night until even the moon had set, and yet…

He touched her there, marveling again at the fuzziness at the juncture of her legs. Indian women had no such markings.

“Tahiska…” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“I am here.”

“What time is it?”

Tahiska understood the words, but not the concept. “What is this time?”

“I…” She popped open one eye. “Never mind, I…” She never finished it. She seemed content to let her hands talk for her, her fingers caressing him boldly, over the planes of his chest, down over his stomach, up again, down.

Tahiska drew in his breath, determined to let her touch him as he had done with her only moments earlier. This might be their last night together. Only tomorrow would tell. And he would let her have this night.

Up and down, her fingers stroking him, until at last she found the firm length of him.

“Tahiska! You want me again?”

“Can you not tell for yourself?” He drew her hand away from him, bringing it to his lips. “I do not know if I will ever get my fill of you.”

She smiled up at him and Tahiska thought he would go mad with wanting her, loving her. “Was there ever a happier man?” he asked, expecting no answer. Then, he continued, “When you are near, I feel as though I am one with nature, with all living things. With you, I am alive as I have never been in all of my past.” He put her hand to his forehead. “Here. With me. I will always remember you. I will love you. Here.”

Kristina closed her eyes, her lower lip trembling. “I… Tahiska, I…” She paused. “Remember. What do you mean remember?”

He drew his hand over her forehead as though to clear her mind. “Do not ask,” he whispered, “what I cannot answer. Know that I love you and I always will.” He moved over her then, the bed cushioning his movements.

She didn’t question him further. Instead, she lay poised, giving herself willingly to him, and when he entered her, they both sighed in relief, as though both had awaited this union a long, long time instead of a mere moment.

They smiled at one another then, his hips thrusting against hers, she answering him with movements all her own, locked in beautiful, simultaneous motion.

“You are the most lovely of creatures I have ever seen,” he remarked truthfully, caressing a firm breast with one hand, while with his other, he took on his own weight, holding any heaviness away from her. “I am truly a man enlightened with medicine. It is good. You are good.”

The scent of her, her own unique perfume, was driving him too close to the edge, and with great restraint he held back, watching her face, seeing for himself the pleasure he gave her.

“Come with me,” he breathed to her. “Just as though we were dancing, Kristina. You and I. Only you and I. Come with me.”

She moaned, she whimpered. And had she been able, he was sure she would have screamed, for he could see the pleasure in her eyes.

As she reached the precipice in this most pleasurable of all struggles, he followed her. In that moment, and for all time, the essence of who and what he was touched her, merged with her, bonding the two lovers together as surely as water flows to sea; it was then, within the space of that one heartbeat, that he understood all that she was.

And he knew. There wasn’t even a lingering doubt. He would love her forever.

Margaret Bogard paced the length of the sitting room. Dust had accumulated on the mantel. She ran her finger over it, snorting in disgust. There was just no getting used to the lack of good help in this god-forsaken place. She hated it here, had felt this way right from the start.

Why had she ever married Wendall Bogard? And what had possessed her to return to him after the sophistication of New York and Boston? Love—a flimsy emotion capable of making the worst of decisions seem suitable. Well, she would have no more of it and she would ensure her daughter would never fall victim to the same mistakes.

She squeezed her eyes shut, just remembering the way Kristina had danced with that Indian tonight.

The savage! It was disgraceful! An outrage! What would her friends say? How could her own daughter have heaped such an insult upon her family? Never mind that Kristina was fascinated with the young man. She couldn’t possibly know her own mind. Love. Bah! Hadn’t she, Margaret Bogard, realized too late that one had to ignore these feelings if ever one were to attain a place in good society? There were many suitable men for Kristina. But not here. Here, the influence of the savage held too much mystery, too much appeal.

No more! The time to leave was now. And Margaret Bogard felt no remorse over the prospect of leaving her husband. It was he who had brought them here, he who had placed Kristina in a position where she was in constant contact with the natives.

She would plan their immediate return and no one would stop her. It was simply for the good of all. Why no one else saw this was beyond her understanding. Perhaps she, Margaret Bogard, was the only person who had Kristina’s welfare in mind. Obviously her own husband saw nothing wrong in allowing their daughter to associate with the Indians.

Well, it was lucky for Kristina that her own mother was determined to save her.

“Maggie.”

Margaret Bogard’s attention flicked toward the door. She raised her chin, staring disdainfully at her husband through her lashes. She straightened her shoulders, demanding, “What was the meaning of that outrage?”

“I…”

“There’s no excuse. You put our daughter in that situation. You arranged for her to act as interpreter…”

“No, I didn’t…”

“You parleyed with those savages.
You
even speak their language, and it was you who hired Kristina’s Indian nanny several years ago. What sort of father would allow his daughter to associate with savages? I can’t help but feel you are a bad influence on our daughter. Why, there is no one at this entire fort who is her equal. She has the pure bearing and good name of my family. I still find it hard to believe that you dared to bring us here. Well, I will bear this insult no longer. You are to arrange our passage home immediately.”

The blood drained from the major’s face, and he stood for several moments without uttering a word. He shifted nervously from one foot to the next before allowing his gaze to center on his wife. Looking at her, he knew she wasn’t the same person he had married over twenty years ago. In those early days that person had been as adventurous as he, as ready for the unknown as any pioneer. What had happened to her? Had Boston changed her so much?

“I agree with you, Maggie, that this may not be the best place for the two of you. But I don’t believe leaving here now is a solution. You must realize that Kristina would only object and end up hating us both for it. Let her end the fascination herself. I’m sure she’ll come to her senses. But if you take her away now, she’ll only champion the Indian more. She’ll pine for him in Boston.”

“I believe I know our daughter better than you do. And I don’t agree she’ll get over this savage on her own. She loves him—can’t you see that? The only way to handle this is to end it now. Otherwise, she’ll ruin her life just as I ruined mine.”

“Maggie!”

“Surely you know that’s true!”

The major reeled away from her as though slapped. “You regret your life with me?”

Margaret Bogard actually hesitated. And perhaps that moment of uncertainty was the only thing that redeemed her. Resolutely she lifted her chin. “Regret my life with you?” she asked. “Yes, I do. And I would make a better life for Kristina.”

Wendall Bogard clenched his fists at his sides. “I see,” he murmured. “In that case, I will arrange passage for you both as soon as possible. But that may not be until the spring. I hope that will satisfy you.”

“If that’s all you can guarantee, perhaps I should ask another.”

Major Bogard sighed. “I’ll see what can be done.”

“Ensure that you do.”

With nothing left to say, Major Bogard twisted around toward the door and quit the room. And as he closed the door behind him, he felt as though he had terminated a vital chapter of his life. It was a mistake. He felt this deeply. What Maggie contemplated would not bring happiness, but could he convince her of this? Somehow he doubted it. Besides, at the moment he lacked the courage to try.

The pinkish-red rays of dawn had not yet fallen upon Fort Leavenworth. Three wild Indians still remained within those same walls, having obtained entrance the night before and hidden themselves until now.

One of those Indians now painted himself while the other two men looked on.

“Why were you gone all night?” Neeheeowee demanded.

Tahiska had just painted white dots below his left eye and a slash of the same color from cheekbone to chin. He took his time, and setting the white paint aside, he then reached for the black.

“You know what is said about a warrior who spends the night before a fight with a woman,” Neeheeowee persisted.

Wahtapah grinned. “Sometimes,” he signed, “a man will risk much for love.”

Neeheeowee snorted, causing Wahtapah to place his hand over his lips, a sign of silence. Then, he gestured, “Would you have the whole fort know we are here? Besides, why do you worry? You begin to sound like an old woman.”

“It is not wise to ignore the wisdom of our fathers,” Neeheeowee returned.

“She is not just any woman,” Wahtapah defended his cousin. “She is his wife, and it had been too long.”

“But look at him now, he has not cleansed himself for battle nor has he danced or…”

“Enough!” Tahiska’s hand sliced through the air. “While you two argue about me, have you noticed that we have not recovered our weapons? We hid them here at the time of the party not long ago; we need them now. Why are they not here?”

“We were waiting for you.”

Tahiska nodded. “Then let us find them now, before dawn.”

Neither Wahtapah nor Neeheeowee could fault such reasoning, and nodding toward each other, the threesome crept through the fort.

Kristina awoke feeling more than a little unsettled.

She stared at the window. Something was wrong, something was teasing her senses. What was it? Early morning sunlight flooded into the room and it took Kristina little time to decipher the smell that accompanied the start of the day. Smoke. Gunsmoke.

Kristina tensed, her gaze sweeping into every corner of the room.

“Tahiska?” she called, her voice no more than a mere whisper.

No answer. Kristina felt her muscles tense involuntarily, the pit of her stomach churn. Something was wrong. She’d sensed it even as she had awakened.

She arose, throwing the covers back, then just as quickly replaced them as she was reminded of her nudity. Where was he? Just then the distant whoop of a war cry reverberated through her room like an omen and Kristina’s stomach took an instant, deep plunge.

Trouble. She’d innately known it. Tahiska was in danger.

She leapt out of bed and, no longer conscious of her nudity shot to the window.

“Oh!” The scream tore from her throat. She bit down hard on her hand to keep herself from yelling and, wheeling away from the window, pressed her body up flat against the wall. Then, softly she murmured, “Oh, dear Lord!”

She’d glimpsed them in the distance, the three Indians facing out against a multitude of soldiers. And even as removed as she was from them, she’d seen their grim expressions and the ominous markings of the war paint.

What could she do? She had to think; she had to try something.

Again her earlier observations about Tahiska returned en masse, but she couldn’t make the pieces fit. Why had he come here in the first place? Why was he now challenging every soldier at the fort? And where did she fit into the scheme of things?

She didn’t even dare to think about this last question. She knew he loved her. She couldn’t be mistaken about that, or could she?

Refusing to dwell on it, she dashed to her wardrobe. Scattering clothes everywhere, she cautioned herself to breathe deeply, to think, to act with purpose. Yet just the same her heart beat loudly in her ears, and she knew she was close to hysteria.

The thought came out of nowhere and Kristina nearly swooned. He could die. Right now, he could be lying lifeless, the victim of some soldier who considered an Indian life no better than that of an animal. She gulped in air, attempting to calm herself. She’d be of no use to them if she were hysterical.

No, if she were to be of any assistance at all, she had to keep her wits about her and act quickly. Her toiletry forgotten, her intense grooming neglected, she stepped into slippers and without a second thought, fled to the street below.