Grey Eagle: Savage Ecstasy Part 1

Savage Ecstasy.

Janelle Taylor.

Alisha stared up into Gray Eagle's face and tried to move away. But she immediately discovered that she was trapped under his body. Helplessly, she met his gaze, and' saw that his eyes burned with a look she did not understand, or want to ...

She fought to turn her face from the Indian brave, but his hand held her chin securely. He forcefuly pressed his lips against hers and kissed her deeply and hungrily.

The young woman's senses reeled. She did not know how to resist him. And now, she didn't know even if she wanted to. Never before had she been kissed like this. Never before had she felt a man's arms like this. In her daydreams of the brave, never had she imagined that her body could feel such exquisite pa.s.sion. As Alisha's hunger and pa.s.sion for Gray Eagle coalesced into one fiery blaze, she thought, if only we weren't enemies ... enemies!

ROMANCE FROM.

JANELLE TAYLOR.

ANYTHING FOR LOVE (0-8217-4992-7, $5.99).

DESTINY MINE (0-8217-5185-9, $5.99).

CHASE THE WIND (0-8217-4740-1, $5.99).

MIDNIGHT SECRETS (0-8217-5280-4, $5.99).

MOONBEAMS AND MAGIC (0-8217-0184-4, $5.99).

SWEET SAVAGE HEART (0-8217-5276-6, $5.99).

Available wherever paperbacks are sold, or order direct from the Publisher. Send cover price plus 50 per copy for mailing and handling to Penguin USA, P.O. Box 999, c/o Dept. 17109, Bergenfied, NJ 07621. Residents of New York and Tennesseemust include sales tax. DO NOT SEND CASH.

Dedicated to: Michael, who made it all possible, and Angela and Alisha.

LOVE'S CRUEL ARROW.

She came to a wilderness, vast and wide; Adorned with great beauty and innocent pride. Searching for freedom and a wondrous new life; But instead found hatred and bitter strife.

To feel her dreams shatter and fade.

To watch the wanton destruction of plans made. To first know love and its cruel game; To endure its counterpart and know great shame. To meet a man with courage and fame; To suffer the torment that he is to blame.

To live in darkness and not be spared.

Rejection from the very one whose love she shared. A forbidden love looked down on with scorn; Sweet like the rose, but painful its thorn.

Forced to endure prejudice from minds so narrow; To be pierced in her heart by love's cruel arrow. Janelle Taylor This book is a work of fiction. Any historical names, places or events that occur have been used in a fictional context and reflect the author's interpretation of the facts for the sake of her work. Acknowledgment to: Hiram C. Owen of Sisseton, South Dakota for al his help and understanding with the Sioux language and facts about the great and inspiring Sioux Nation. Thank you.

Chapter One.

Alisha opened the door to their smal, one-room cabin and stepped outside to absorb the warmth of the sunlight. The fragrant scents of verdant nature and late spring flowers floated in the balmy air. The bright sun beamed down on the fortress yard, which was cluttered by many one-room cabins, each an exact replica of the ones surrounding it. Only the varying colors of curtains fluttering in and out of open windows or a rugged work bench attached to the side wal of certain cabins marked minute differences to the naked eye. She recaled how quickly and efficiently the cabins had been constructed. The men had insisted on speed, size and style to provide the needed protection against weather and the precious privacy denied on the trail.

She inhaled the fresh breeze from the surrounding forest that gently blew over the tal, spiked fence and through the slightly open gate, cooling its occupants as they labored and played. She was thinking of how very different it was here from what she had imagined or had been told. She laughed lightly to herself as she recaled visualizing vast wastelands and tangled forests, filed with clutching vines and thick underbrush. She remembered the tales she had heard about huge, strange beasts and heathen red savages who ran around half-naked, performing terrible rituals and deeds against the whites and other tribes.

Instead, she had found dense green forests; lazy, roling hils; majestic rock formations; winding rivers and lucid, sparkling streams. She pictured the prairies and vast gra.s.slands that stretched streams. She pictured the prairies and vast gra.s.slands that stretched far as the eye could see, acres dotted with smal, flowering bushes and mangled trees. She had discovered rugged landscapes which were covered with various sizes and types of cacti and white yuccas.

She wondered how long it would remain this way with groups such as theirs and others ever pressing westward, how long it would be before those great plains she saw would be filed with sheep and cattle. How long before the forests were cut down for lumber needed for homes and new towns or cleared for farms and fields?

How long before this wilderness succ.u.mbed to progress and change and this very spot was another Liverpool or Harrisburg? It saddened her to think that someday this beauty and splendor would no longer exist. She thought this land should inspire the peace and freedom they al hungered and searched for-but would it?

She hugged the stoop post, swaying back and forth, thinking how wonderful her new life would be. Her mind flitted from one thought to another as a bee from flower to flower colecting nectar. Her thoughts briefly settled on the huge, hairy creature the scout had caled abuffalo. She had seen a herd spread out for miles and miles against the blue horizon on the open plains, covering the vast gra.s.slands like a giant, black carpet. She recaled how a sudden stampede had sounded like roaring thunder, shook the ground and was heard and felt for miles. The scout had told her how the Indians hunted them, using their skins for clothing, shelter and shoes; and their bones, hooves, horns and entrails for sewing, tools, utensils and numerous other purposes. He had commented that many tribes depended almost solely on them for everything they needed to sustain life as they knew and lived it.

Lazily Alisha looked around the enclosure at the women as Lazily Alisha looked around the enclosure at the women as they went about their daily ch.o.r.es and tasks while the smal children played. She quickly turned her face away from the place where two men were gutting and skinning a beautiful, white-tailed deer. She wondered why that task could not have been done outside the fortress wals. She watched the strong muscles in the backs of several men flex and strain as they chopped firewood. Many others were going about their ch.o.r.es oblivious to the others around, caught up in their own little worlds of thoughts and work. She glanced through the half-open gate into the forest and sighed lightly. With June almost over, spring stil lingered on the land. She remembered how glorious fal had been and how terribly harsh and cold the winter. This climate was so different from the one back home in Liverpool. She recaled how her mother had hated the fog and cold, damp mist and would constantly ask to go to the South of France during those worst seasons. How she would have loved this warm sunshine, the fresh air and skies the color of periwinkle satin and heather. A note of sadness touched her heart and spirit at these thoughts and memories.

Oh, Mama, her heart cried out, why did you and Papa have to die so young and leave me alone? Why couldn't life go on as before? It wasn't fair... such a terrible waste ... tears glistened in her eyes for a few moments before she could bring her emotions under control.

Alisha wondered what happiness and surprises this new land and year of 1776 held in store for her and the others. Little did she suspect that in just a short time an event would shatter and change her life and thoughts for al time, that al she knew and loved would be cruely torn from her. Her innocence about life and human nature would leave her unprepared to face the brutality and the drastic would leave her unprepared to face the brutality and the drastic changes that she would be forced to witness and endure. She stood leaning against the post in a dreamlike trance, reminiscing about old times and planning new ones. Suddenly she became aware of the loud yels and commotion outside the fortress wals that steadily increased in nearness and pitch. The gate was shoved wide open and she saw a sight that she would long remember.

She stared at the scene in disbelief and astonishment. Some of the men from the fortress were bringing an Indian brave into the center of the yard. He was being puled forward like an animal by a rope around his neck and with his hands bound tightly behind his back. The raucous group brought many others running forward to see what was going on. They pointed at the brave as they talked excitedly amongst themselves. Some of the men taunted him and shouted insults at him. Others struck blows and puled at his braids. He was shoved from side to side roughly as in some game of tugof-war. She couldn't believe what she witnessed with her own eyes and ears.

Ben Frazer, a burly blacksmith from Virginia, yanked on the rope, yeling, "Come on, you savage! Stop that dawdling or I'l break yore neck."

At Ben's movement, the brave stumbled and nearly fel. As he straightened up, he jerked his head backwards with powerful neck muscles, causing Ben to drop the other end of the rope. Ben cursed him as he leaned over to retrieve it. Like a flash of lightning, the brave brought his knee up with a smashing blow under Ben's chin. Ben yeled out in pain as he spit blood onto the brave's chest and drew back his fist and delivered a heavy blow into his stomach. Much to Ben's surprise and anger, the only two noticeable effects Much to Ben's surprise and anger, the only two noticeable effects of the blow were an exhalation of air and a slight backwards movement.

Ben shook his fingers painfuly and shouted jokingly to those nearby, "d.a.m.n! He's got a gut of iron. 'Most near broke me hand."

Then he slowly added, "We'l just see if'n his back is made of iron."

Jed McDoogan, who Alisha thought looked and acted like a weasel, pranced around him, taunting and shouting, "Blarney! If he ain't a puck! Just look at that face, boys. Why it's enough to scare the hair clear off'n me head."

Horace Swint, the fortress's self-appointed Don Juan, grabbed his braids and forced him to face him. He studied him for a minute, then agreed. "Yore right, Jed. I kin feel me hair jumping up and down in fear. Just look at that face! He must think he can scare us to death with just a look. Wel, he won't be so brave or silent when we've finished with him," he threatened boldly. Ben joined the laughter and shouted above the noise, "I bet we have him begging for mercy within an hour. Just you wait and see if'n it ain't so."

"Shucks," Horace yeled. "I bet it only takes a few minutes. I'l wager you my best gun if it takes more'n half an hour to break him."

Jed whispered, "You think maybe we could do some of them Injun tortures on him? Give 'im a taste of his own medicine? I know of a few things I'd like to try on him. Couldn't do 'em here in front of the women folk, though." They al exchanged knowing looks and laughed heartily. "Why don't you see just how tough he is, Ben? Put a little squeeze on 'im."

Ben began to tighten the rope around the brave's neck until his face began to discolor and his chest began to show signs of struggling for air. No one tried to stop the malicious actions of the struggling for air. No one tried to stop the malicious actions of the men. Hatred thick as smoke permeated the air. Alisha wondered what had come over these people. They acted as if they had captured a rabid animal. Why?

Many of the people were running about wildly, yeling and shouting. Bedlam had broken loose in the fortress and confusion ruled. They swarmed around him like the sharks had done the rancid meat dumped overboard from the ship on the way over here. What was possessing these people to behave this way? They showed him no mercy or humanity with any of their words or actions to him. As with any mob, sanity and reason had fled and there would be no stopping them. Stil, she knew that she must try to do something, anything and alone....

She ran to Ben. "Stop it!" she screamed at him. "He can't breathe! You're choking him, Ben! No!" She slapped at his hands and tried to grab the rope. She shouted at him again, "Ben, you can't do this! Let him go! Stop it now before it's too late!

Please..."

Seeing her look of anger and disbelief, Ben loosened the rope and spoke to her in childlike innocence, "Aw, Miss Alisha, we was only having fun. We ain't gonna kil him yet."

She looked at the brave to be sure that he was al right. He breathed heavily but his color had returned to normal quickly. She turned to Ben and said, "Strangling a man isn't my idea of fun, as you cal it. You could have kiled him! Why? I don't understand what this is al about. What did he do?"

Horace piped up acidly, "This ain't no man! This here's a real, live, heathern, bloodthirsty savage. Women should keep their pretty noses outa men's business. This ain't none of yore concern. Go back to your cabin and stay out of it."

back to your cabin and stay out of it."

Alisha glared at his face so ful of hate and contempt for the brave and asked, "Just what did he do to you, Horace?"

He snarled angrily, "He's alive and an Injun, that's enough for me!"

She studied his hate-distorted features in amazement, then inquired, "You mean that you hate him and would kil him simply because he's an Indian?"

Horace gave her a quick, concise, "Yep!"

Alisha retorted, "That's barbaric! And you cal him the savage? That's realy pathetic, Horace. But then again, so like you..."

Horace flashed her a look of warning and said, "Don't press me, Alisha."

She quipped back instantly, "Don't cal me Alisha! Only my friends can do that." The jab hit home and he flamed at the insult. Ben intervened at that point. "Miss Alisha, maybe you best go inside if it bothers you to witness punishment."

"Punishment!" she shrieked. "For what?"

"For being an Injun," Horace shouted back at her. "Now stop your interfering or I'l personaly see to it that you do."

She glared at him and whispered, "If you ever touch me again, I'l..."

Ben warned, "I told you once before, Horace, leave her be."

The two men exchanged looks and Horace backed down once more.

The brave remained motionless and silent while they argued over what was to be done with him. Alisha argued, threatened and pleaded against al their suggestions, but was ignored and slowly pushed backwards by the circle of spectators that tightened around pushed backwards by the circle of spectators that tightened around the scene. She prayed for her uncle and the others to return soon. She knew the men were not thinking clearly and the group would soon be out of control.

The men decided that first they would flog him with thirty lashes.

Thirty, she thought, horrified. Men have died from less than twenty. I must do something! But what? I'm no match against al these strong men.

The men began to pul him toward the post used to butcher game. Ben was tugging on the rope, trying to drag him to it. The brave held back and resisted with al his might every step of the way. Jed and Horace shoved and pushed him from behind at each delay and hesitation.

Aggravated and angry, Horace suddenly laughed sardonicaly and tripped him. With quick nimbleness and alertness, the brave flipped in mid-air and landed on his side rather than face down in the dirt. As he was going down, the rope tightened around his neck and he choked and coughed. Swiftly he bounded back to his feet before Horace could deliver a vicious kick into his side. He crouched like a puma about to spring and faced his antagonist with eyes that blazed in unconcealed fury and hate. Horace drew back slightly as he watched the brave's jaw grow taut and the muscles in it quiver. His eyes narrowed and flamed dangerously at the men, who overlooked this warning and would live to regret this day and its events.

Squeals of delight and laughter filed the air. Taunts and jests flew from al directions at his apparent helplessness. "Been drinking too much firewater, Injun?" "They just don't grow Injuns like they used to." "I bet he ain't bathed in year or more. What'cha say used to." "I bet he ain't bathed in year or more. What'cha say wegive 'im a bath, boys?" "Ben, you oughta teach yore Injun some manners." "Hey! how about doing us a little war dance, redskin?"

"Heck! I'd like to hear some chanting and praying." "Who's yore tailor, boy? That's realy some nifty garb. I bet we could win us a prize with that outfit over in Paris, France." "Somebody get us some paint and we'l fix his face up right for a change." "Yeh! And paint a yelow strip down the coward's back." The ribbing went on and on until Horace became the center attraction with his antics. He yeled out, "Watch this!" At that, he stiffened his body, held his head high and tried to mock the brave's dignified stance and tried to calm his grinning face to mock his stoical mask. He could do neither.

New bursts of laughter rippled the air and others joined in the gestures and tried amidst howling laughter and encouragement to imitate his walk, stance and facial expression. Catcals, hoots and hisses filed the air like sirocco winds from the desert during a sand storm.

The brave alertly observed each man and his moves as he stood erect and proud before his enemies. His contempt of them and of the danger he was in was clearly written on his face, and this inflamed the men. His confidence and prowess stung their pride and they tried harder to provoke some emotion, reaction or outburst from him. He rewarded their attempts with silence and stilness. They pranced around taunting him, but he only stared back in haughty arrogance. The men became more and more piqued by his lack of response to their words and actions. They wanted him to resist or show fear. Their egos demanded that he be broken or humbled before they kiled him. Gray Eagle rebuffed al their intimidations and tricks. They refused to recognize the leashed intimidations and tricks. They refused to recognize the leashed violence and strength of mind and body that he held in such tight control. If they had looked beyond the surface, they would have cringed in fear and respect at what they would have seen. Horace snarled, "Let's get on with this. We've wasted enough time. He ain't gonna beg yet. Let's just see if'n he bleeds the same color as us. Hel! maybe his blood is as black as that d.a.m.ned heart of his."

Jed shouted, "Tie the b.a.s.t.a.r.d face forward! I want to see his expression when he feels the bite of the whip. I want him to have to look us in the face when he pleads for mercy and screams with pain."

Ben remarked, "Maybe I can wipe that smug look off'n his purty face with a few wel-aimed snaps of my bul whip."

Alisha pushed and shoved until she managed to get through the crowd. She lunged for Ben's hand and missed. She persisted until she was able to grab the arm of the giant man holding the rope securely in his powerful grip.

"You mustn't do this, Ben! Uncle Thad wouldn't permit such inhumane treatment. No one deserves this kind of cruel abuse, not even him. Please, don't do this terrible thing," she pleaded with him and the others close by.

But no matter what she said or how, the group continued its relentless onslaught of words and actions. Sneers and taunts became'bolder and louder, "Dirty Injun!" "You're nothing but a filthy, murdering redskin!" "I say we kils him!" "No! Hang 'im!"

"Cut out his tongue like they did ole Timkins..." "Hanging's too good for the devil." "Get the whip and give 'im the licking of his life ..." "Tie him to the hitchin' post and beat him to death." "Let me at 'im. I'l fix him up good."

'im. I'l fix him up good."

Talk was running wild and loose and no amount of reasoning or begging seemed to penetrate the vengeance-crazed minds of the men. Al the anger, fear and hatred they knew and felt seemed to be centered upon this one man and this moment in time. Alisha wondered what had sent them to the brink of madness with his capture. They were acting and talking like he was the Genghis Khan of the West. Was this how it had been with Anne Boleyn, Sir Thomas Beckett, or Joan of Arc? Was this how their mobs had screamed for their blood and heads? Were they not as guiltless as he appeared to be? Had there been others like her, forced to watch helplessly?

She had been told about the hatred and differences between the white man and Indian, but she had never before confronted it. They were ready to tear him limb from limb. She had never witnessed such uncaled-for behavior and violence to another. This whole situation went against her beliefs and teachings. How could his being an Indian provoke such hatred and anger from these people?

She watched as the men dragged him over to the post and tied him tightly face forward. Jedfetched the whip, demanding to be the first to inflict some lashes on him. Others grabbed at the whip handle begging for the same honor.

Ben, being the largest and most pcwerful man present, took the whip and stated, "I'm first! They'l be enough skin on his red a.r.s.e for al of us to peel some off and leave some for the buzzards."

Alisha made one last desperate plea for mercy and common sense. "How can you people ever hope to have peace and friendship with them when you treat them like this? Can't you see this wil only cause more trouble and hatred? Wait for Uncle Thad this wil only cause more trouble and hatred? Wait for Uncle Thad to come back, Ben. He'l know what is best to do. Please..."

Horace snapped, "Who wants peace and friendship with those redskins? Best thing we could do is to wipe them al out and our problems solved for good. Besides, no one asked for your opinion anyway."

Alisha stared at him incredulously and said, "Horace, you can't mean that! You don't know what you're saying. That would be cold-blooded murder!" But she could read in his face that he did understand and mean what he said.

Jed shouted, "Horace, keep her out of the way! Hold her or something. She ain't got no part in this business. Let's get on with this, me lads."

Alisha was seized and held in Horace's strong grip. The whip rose and fel with a loud snap and pop. Alisha flinched at the gruesome sight and cried, "Let me go, Horace! I can't watch. I'l be sick ..." she stammered.

He was tempted to force her to stay and watch but decided against it. If she did get sick, it might stop the action and he surely didn't want that. Reluctantly he released her and watched her flee to her cabin. It had been very nice to hold her so close for even such a short time, to feel the heat of her body next to his and to have her under his control. Too bad they hadn't been alone... he would not have been so curt and tough with her. Why wouldn't she alow him to be gentle and nice to her? Why did she provoke him into behaving that way to her every time? One day she wil come around, he thought. I'l have her yet if it's the last thing I do. In time, Alisha, in time...

Again the whip sang out and cut a fresh, b.l.o.o.d.y gash across the brave's chest. Unexpectedly, Alisha appeared between Ben and the brave's chest. Unexpectedly, Alisha appeared between Ben and the brave with a loaded, primed gun in her hands. Horace was infuriated by her daring interruption and her open concern for the Indian. He halted instantly and paled as she turned the gun on him as he began to advance toward her. How dare she! he fumed to himself.

"No more," she stated firmly, "or I'l shoot the first man who tries. Uncle Thad wil deal with this when he returns. Put the whip down, Ben."

Horace moved again and she lowered the weapon to aim directly into his stomach. She warned, "Don't try it, Horace. You're the very man I'd have no qualms about shooting. I won't stand by and watch you beat him to death."

His face flamed in embarra.s.sment and rage, but he didn't dare cal her bluff. She held that gun like she knew how to use it and would. How dare she defend that sc.u.m and humiliate him like this before the others! He would set her straight later about a few things. Jed suggested, "If we al rush her at one time, we could easily take her. She can't get off but one shot and that probably couldn't hit the side of a barn."

Alisha glared at him and retorted, "I a.s.sure you, Mr. McDoogan, that one of you would be shot in the attempt. Do any of you dare chance who it wil be? Wil you take that risk?' she openly chalenged him. While she had their ful attention, she said, "Al of you know that this is wrong. We're supposed to be the civilized people, but look how we're acting-like wild animals with a scent of blood and out for the kil. Al I ask is that you wait for Uncle Thad and the others."

No one moved or argued with her. She stepped a little to the side. Holding the gun securely, she took a sideways glance at the side. Holding the gun securely, she took a sideways glance at the Indian. Two red slashes crossed his chest. Welts were just beginning to rise. The brave had never winced or moved, nor had his facial expression changed from its arrogant, cold stare at Ben and the other men.

He had said nothing since being forced to walk into the fortress. He glared at his captors with inky black eyes filed with contempt and fury. He surely was a handsome man, and so very brave...

Abruptly, she was seized by two rough hands and the gun fired harmlessly into the sky. Horace whispered in her ear, "If you had not been so enchanted with the brave, Alisha, you coulda had your revenge. Too bad..."