Taboo Love in the West Part 1: A Heart Off-Limits (Wild West Adventures in Love Book 3) (7 page)

Chapter Seven

The next morning came around, and the whole town was abuzz with the wonderful evening that had been shared out at the reservation. Those who had been there were looked at with admiration for their courage in going and even more so with envy as a truly life-changing evening had been missed by many who had been too fearful to go. Eliza slept in late for the first time since her arrival and was surprised when Alice entered her room quietly with her breakfast tray. She was usually up and in the kitchen to enjoy her breakfast with their gentle and hardworking young housekeeper. She stretched languorously as Alice drew back the heavy drapes and let the sunshine in.

“Morning Miss Eliza. Are you alright?” Alice asked kindly. “It isn’t like you to lie in, but the reverend said to leave you; you’ve had a busy few months since you got here, he thought you might need some rest.”

“He was right. I can’t remember ever being so tired, Alice. Even when I first arrived I didn’t feel as bone tired as I did when we finally made it home last night. Aren’t you glad you came with us? Wasn’t it wonderful?”

“It was certainly a wonderful play, and all that dancing and the fire was very exciting, Miss, but it was all a bit frightening too at times I thought.”

“It certainly was strange and different. What a rich and vibrant culture the Sioux have. They have been through so much, and seem to be such a peaceful people when you know them. It seems hard to equate the men and women I have met with the fearsome warriors we heard all about back east. But they are passionate about their culture as they should be, and when you see them together like that and spend time here in this stunning landscape you can understand why they would fight so hard to retain what was theirs.”

“Yes, Miss,” Alice said in non-committal tone as she brought the tray and placed it on her lap. Clearly she was not as enthused or as impressed by what she had experienced the night before as Eliza, but Eliza knew the Sioux better than she did. She had spent so much time with them and had completely lost her fear of being around them. She had grown to love her students and their families, but now Alice looked enquiringly at her as if she had guessed at the secret deep in her heart: that she was in love with Amitola, and his people disapproved – but she knew she would never act upon it. She would not shame her father so or cause Amitola the pain of choosing between her and his tribe. It would be too painful for them both, so Alice’s opinion meant little, and the young woman had no right to be questioning Eliza anyway. She knew she shouldn’t feel as she did, but as everyone always told her, you couldn’t choose who you fell in love with. She would lock the feelings away inside and would make sure she never let it show to anyone who may use it against them.

“I had better get ready quickly; everyone will be waiting for me at the school. I have never been so late before.”

“I am sure they will understand, Miss, but I will make sure Chett brings the buggy around ready for you to go as soon as you are breakfasted and dressed. I have left your clean muslin on the chair for you. I’ll be back in a moment to help you with your corsets.”

Just a half an hour later and Eliza was in the buggy taking the now well-worn trail towards the reservation. She didn’t have time to collect Emmeline this morning, but guessed that she would be grateful for a quiet day at home today anyway. Eliza loved the landscape she travelled through each day, and though she would normally take the time to take in the sights, sounds and scents all around her, today being late, she wanted to get to her class as quickly as possible. She pushed the little pony to his limits, and the buggy trundled at twice the speed she would normally take. Her haste meant she didn’t notice the band of men riding up around her, in full war paint until it was too late and she was surrounded. The pony shied in panic and neighed loudly, pulling at the reins and trying to bolt from his harness, but with nowhere to go he just danced about on nervous hooves, clattering into the buggy and almost overturning it. Eliza had no time to even scream, as one of the men plucked her out of the buggy and draping her across the saddle in front of him and carried her off at the head of the war band as if she were the spoils of battle.

Amitola was worried. Eliza was never late. Even though it was complete torment, he enjoyed their time together in the morning, silently setting up the schoolroom, and companionably enjoying a coffee or raspberry leaf tea before the children arrived. Even with Emmeline there, it felt like they were all alone and that they could be like this always. This was the first time that all the children were all settled, ready to learn, and there was no sign of her. The sound of the buggy arriving at speed had him sighing with relief, but when he arrived outside to find it driver-less, and the pony so highly agitated, he could barely calm himself. Every one of his worst fears flooded back through his mind, tumbling over one another trying to assert their position as the most likely reason for her absence. Each was a more lurid option than the next, and he had to shake himself vigorously to bring himself back to reality and face the actual facts as they were laid out in front of him. He quickly dismissed the class, and hitched his own horse to the rear of the buggy. He drove it back towards Oacoma on the path he knew Eliza drove to reach them. He used his tracking skills as he drove slowly, looking for any signs of a disturbance, until he reached the spot where she had been taken, taking note of the numbers of hooves that led towards it and then back away from it – both had clearly been at speed, and Eliza had probably had no awareness until it was far too late to do anything about it. He shuddered violently as he thought about the continuing threat to her safety. The hoof-prints were bare, and it was this one simple fact that saddened him. He knew that she had been taken by Sioux, as the cowboys and bandits all shod their horses in iron. He wished that this thought would bring him hope, but it did little to reassure him that she would be safe. There were still many Sioux war bands that had refused to accept life on the reservations and were still more than happy to take a white woman and use her for their pleasures. Few women ever recovered from the abuses they were subjected to, and Amitola prayed that this was not why she had been taken from him.

He pulled up outside the manse as Reverend Gillespie was heading towards his daily work in the chapel. “Amitola, what a pleasant surprise. I thought you would be at the school with Eliza,” he said, amiable as always, with a broad smile for a man he vastly admired and respected.

“Reverend Gillespie, I don’t know how to say this.” He stuttered over the words – his grasp of English failing him a little. Reverend Gillespie suddenly looked askance at the sight of the tall man aboard his tiny buggy. He must have looked most ludicrous. Amitola couldn’t even fit his legs into it, and had draped them over the dashboard. It had made for a difficult job when he had been trying to drive at speed; he knew that he had to get back out and search for her as soon as he could.

“Why have you brought the buggy back? Surely Eliza will need it later on?” the Reverend said, but Amitola could see that even as he said the words, the penny began to drop and a look of fear crossed over his face.

“Eliza didn’t make it to the school. The pony arrived, fretful, with the buggy. Eliza…I think she was taken on her way across the plain.” He looked at the older man who visibly crumpled before his very eyes, his skin greying to the colour of the dust on his shoes. “There were bare hoof prints. I think she has been taken by a band of Sioux, Sir,” Amitola caught the older man as his knees gave way under him. He assisted him to the church and sat him down in one of the pews, kneeling down to remain on eye level with him. “I will find her, Reverend Gillespie, and you have my word that whoever has done this to her, whoever has taken her from you – they will pay the price.”

“I don’t want or need revenge, my boy. Just get her back for me. I can’t lose her. I just can’t lose her,” Reverend Gillespie sobbed, patting him on the cheek, as if he was a beloved son he was sending out to find her. Amitola couldn’t help but be touched by the man’s affection and trust in him. He vowed to live up to his expectations – not just for the kindly minister, but to protect his own sanity.

“I must go quickly. I need to get on their trail as soon as possible. I will send updates when I can, but you might not hear from me for some time. I will find her.” he said earnestly, knowing the older man needed no reminders of the past actions of Indian bands when they accosted white women. Amitola left the chapel, leaving Reverend Gillespie on his knees praying to his God. He didn’t believe himself, but hoped that the faith and the intercession of the highly spiritual minister with his higher power would help him to find her, and fast.

He unhitched his horse from the buggy, mounted at speed and headed out onto the trail at a gallop to pick up the clues before they disappeared. He had never ridden so fast before and never had his heart pounded so hard with fear. He fought back the tears as he rode furiously. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if anything happened to her. As he rode the same thoughts that had plagued him as he saw the empty buggy ran riot through his head, along with a few that were unexpected. Some of the scenarios his imagination ran wild with were welcome – so his imaginings were mixtures of finding her safe and sound and unharmed and her father being so grateful that he would let them be together forever; others that were most definitely not so good of finding her too late, and the townspeople hanging him from a gallows for allowing such a thing to happen to one of their own. The other thought that continued to pop into his mind was the memory of that one kiss, that perfect and life-changing moment. He could hardly bear to consider that there would be no hope for that kind of passion, whether he found her or not. He had a job to do, and he couldn’t lose focus. He pulled himself back into the reality of the situation, and into the present moment. The trail was already fading, but he followed as best he could. He was frustrated as he lost the trail of the hoof prints at an outcrop in the foothills of
paha sapa
. He could only hope that they were still within the boundaries of the
Kul Wicasa Oyate
lands, that he wouldn’t have to travel the wilds of
mako sica
, most of which were part of the Pine Ridge reservation and were home to a
tiyospaye
far more martial in their dealings with the white man than his own. The maze of buttes and spires were difficult to find your way through, and though he was not a superstitious man, there was something about the austere landscape that always had him feeling uneasy.

Knowing how much of the territory he would have to search, he accepted that he would not be able to find her alone, so he took the only decision open to him and headed back home to raise a search party and get the support of Chief Iron Nation to try and use some diplomacy between the tribes to try and ensure her safe return. He rode with his head down, hoping there would be some small clue, but found nothing. He told everyone he passed that he was raising a search party, and that the council would be needed. He knew the word would spread. Eliza was a very much loved part of their community now. There were very few in the tribe who wouldn’t turn out to help find her.

Chapter Eight

The warriors were loud and were hollering at the top of their lungs as they rode across the plains. Eliza could see nothing but the leg of her captor and the skewbald hide of the horse he was riding so expertly. She could see that the man was wearing nothing but a loincloth, and his skin was as dark as Amitola’s. She felt that the stench of sweat and horseflesh would never be expunged from her nostrils but tried to remind herself that she had managed to get past the issues of her journey out here, and that if she could survive that, then she would get through anything. Then again, her mind panicked – what if they intended to defile her, to abuse her or even to kill her? Her thoughts ran all over, and she couldn’t keep track of anything. The one thing she knew with any certainty was that her father would be frantic, and that Amitola would come after her. His sense of honour would be too much for him to ignore. The idea of a woman in trouble would have him searching high and low for her, but she also wondered if he had even realised that she was missing yet. She hoped he wasn’t far behind her, already on the trail. There was no woman of her acquaintance either here or back east who hadn’t known the dangers of being kidnapped, though things had been said to have improved, there were still horror stories in all the papers of what could happen. Eliza didn’t want to imagine what these men could do to her. She had no defences to protect herself, but she could at least speak their language – as long as these men spoke Lakota Sioux, of course. She felt that she could at least buy some time for Amitola to find her. She knew he wouldn’t leave her to a fate worse than death, and she could at least do the best she could to ensure that she didn’t become hysterical and start falling apart. Whatever was to happen she would bear with fortitude and the courage she had so recently learned she possessed.

The screeching and calling finally stopped and mercifully the horses came to a halt. She felt herself being hauled from the horse’s back, and as she was able to look around her realised that she was in a large cave. She felt bruised and battered all over from the raucous and rough ride, but she was surprised to see that there was a warm fire, and a number of women were busying themselves preparing food which smelled rich and good. They didn’t even look her way, just carried on with their work as the men whooped and hollered and laughed together companionably – as if they had merely been hunting for buffalo and had been successful in their efforts. She hadn’t expected this at all. It was quite a homely place and had a calm and relaxed feel to it. She didn’t know what she had expected, but at least a sense of menace and discomfort had been there. They didn’t even bind her arms or legs.

“Warm yourself by the fire,” her captor said in Lakota. She breathed a sigh of relief, thankful she would be able to communicate. “You may be here a while, but don’t worry, you will not be harmed Miss Eliza,” he continued.

“You know who I am? Then why have you brought me here?” she demanded.

“My daughter, Kangee is in your class. I didn’t want to have to do this, none of us did, but Chief Iron Nation refuses to listen to anyone but Amitola, and our voices are not being heard. We don’t want to start a war again, but we aren’t happy about how far things are going. We are pandering to your kind. You get everything you want, and we get less and less – and it is
our
homeland.”

Eliza remembered Kangee. She was aptly named. It meant raven, and she did have the smoothest black hair and raven black eyes that Eliza had ever seen. She was a bright child, and had taken to learning well. She could understand why some of the Sioux felt so hard done by, and even sympathised, but didn’t understand how these men felt that holding her hostage would gain them any leverage.

“I don’t understand how you think I can help?”

“Amitola is blinded by his love for you. He believes that all white men are like your father that all white women are as kind and generous as you. He is wrong. You are the exceptions, not the rule, and we need to make him and the rest of the
oyate
remember that.”

“I am not sure that he will see anything about white men, when it is Sioux Warriors who have taken me. You couldn’t be more wrong. Amitola doesn’t love me; he is barely even my friend. He supports me because I provide the knowledge and skills needed to run the school for your children. But I don’t doubt that you are right, that he will come looking for me, because he will want to protect you – his people – from the punishment that would come from my people if you are caught by them.”

He laughed as if she was a fool and didn’t know what she was talking about and walked away to join the men at the cave mouth. She watched them talk animatedly, and guessed that he was telling them what she had said. She so wished that he was right, that Amitola did love her, but even if he did where would that leave them? He had no place in her world, and she had none in his. She knew that she was right though, that if he found her first these men would at least receive justice. It would be a highly public and mass lynching if they were caught by the sheriff and his deputies.

She sat down by the fire and tried to warm herself. She looked at the stains all over her blouse, and wondered absent-mindedly if Alice would ever be able to get them out. She picked at her skirt, and realised that it was ripped and torn. She sighed sadly, as she realised that, even if this was a far more preferable captivity than she was expecting, it was nonetheless still captivity. One of the women passed her a bowl of the richly scented stew, and she thanked her gratefully. Even though she had no hunger, she tried to force herself to eat in dainty bites from the steaming bowl. The woman looked surprised that she could speak Lakota, and smiled warmly at her, their eyes conveying that they were impressed. They still said nothing.

Eliza had noticed that amongst the Sioux women who came to the school too, they rarely spoke a word. She would have hated it. She wasn’t good at being quiet – it was just one of the reasons why teaching suited her so brilliantly. The men took their servings of the delicious stew, bolting it down, barely even noting how rich and tasty it was. Certainly they offered no thanks or praise to the women. They dropped their bowls with a clatter, and then grabbed their spears, clearly off to hunt. Eliza was surprised that nobody was left behind to guard her, but she knew from watching the women butchering the deer at the lip of the cave that she certainly wasn’t free to come and go at will. Not that she would have had a clue where to go even if she did dare to try and escape.

Surprisingly, with the men’s departure, the silence of the cave suddenly vanished. A hubbub of gossip and chatter commenced all around her, and laughter and giggles filled the air. She heard them talk the way every group of women talk when they get together, about their husbands’ inadequacies, the ridiculous requests they made and how much they took for granted. She listened, amused to the talk, and found it hard not to chuckle when tales became quite ridiculous and even lurid. But, she remained quiet, listening avidly to their conversations. It took her a little while to notice that the subject of their conversation had changed, and she was amused to realise that many of the whispers and chuckles were now busy discussing and being critical of the way that she was dressed.

“What is so funny about it?” she asked kindly. “I have no secrets, and am certainly not the highest advocate of women’s clothing!” The women looked shyly at her, and then one piped up bravely.

“They want to know if you are a different shape to us that you need to wear such clothes. They don’t think it is particularly practical. How on earth do you do all your chores?” Eliza looked down at herself, and realised that her full skirt and nipped in waist truly made her look like her shape was very different to these women. She laughed.

“Is that why none of the women ever talk to me in class? They are all too curious that I am shaped like a bell?” She lifted up her skirts to reveal that she was built just like them, and exposed the corset she wore to show how her waist was cinched in tight.

“But why would you want to look that way? What is wrong with the way you are made?” the stunning Sioux woman asked.

“Nothing, I suppose. It is just the fashion. I wear what everyone else does. I wish I didn’t have to. This stuff can be terribly hot and very uncomfortable sometimes. Chores aren’t really expected of women who dress like this – you are right they aren’t practical for doing anything.” The women looked confused by the idea that different women would be expected to wear different things, and that some would be exempt from undertaking chores. Eliza realised that the women here all took their turns. Chief’s wife or daughter to the lowliest members of the tribe – everyone pulled their weight.

“You don’t have to here. We can give you a tunic. Why not be comfortable at least for a while?” one of them suggested tentatively. Eliza didn’t need to think twice about it, though the tunics the Sioux women wore were a little shapeless, they looked so deliciously free and comfortable that she needed no persuasion. She also wanted to experience the life that these women did, one she had been sheltered from, to get involved in the visceral and tangible elements of life.

It wasn’t long before, as women will, they were bonding excitedly over the pleasure of making their new friend over. They unpinned and spent time combing out her long hair, marvelling at the curls she kept hidden from view, and gave her a pair of soft leather moccasins for her feet. They brought her a tunic which was covered in beautiful images of bluebirds and flowers, sewn in exquisitely tiny stitching. She had never felt so free in her entire life. If she hadn’t been brought here against her will, she realised that she would be more than happy to live amongst these gentle women and lead a more simple life. To be able to chatter and be a part of a community in this way would be such a blessing. By the time the men returned, she knew everybody’s name, and was already making herself useful teaching the children here their letters. She had fetched water, helped make leather, and was physically more tired than she had ever been, but she felt exhilarated by the manual labour and was proud of her achievements.

The tribal council sat silently, digesting the news that Amitola had brought of the teacher’s abduction. They didn’t want any further concerns from the townspeople. Things were finally starting to settle down, and there was no doubt that was in part due to the influence of the generous young woman and her kindly father. They knew they needed to do something, and it had to be done quickly before the white lawmen and soldiers got involved. Amitola was clearly distraught and had excused himself from the proceedings as he felt he could not be impartial. He was awaiting their decision outside. Chief Iron Nation had been concerned about his feelings for Eliza, and now had his worst fears confirmed. There simply was no way that this affair could ever end happily. Falling in love with someone from another culture, particularly one that you had been at war with for generations, could only ever end in troubles. He had so wanted Amitola to find a wonderful woman that he could love and become his best and highest self with, and if she had been Sioux, Eliza would make a wonderful choice. She had a courage and bravery rare in her kind, and a compassion for the plight of others that made her an open book and an empty vessel. She made no assumptions, but questioned gently. Chief Iron Nation truly cared for the young woman, but he was sad that he would have to console Amitola for her loss – as that would be the ultimate result of this situation, however it played out.

Amitola sat quietly outside the Main Lodge, and waited anxiously to hear what the elders decreed. Impatience got the better of him, and he began to pace, fretting over and over about what might happen to Eliza if he didn’t find her soon. If the worst came to pass, the white men would not want her back – they never did, but would the tribe accept her if he took her as a wife? Would she be able to deal with what had been done to her, or would she be able to stay amongst people whose kin had done such things to her? But thinking of what would happen when he found her meant nothing if he couldn’t find her in the first place, and that meant he needed help, so he tried desperately to calm his thoughts and to get his fears back under control.

As the elders came out from the lodge, he noticed that Matoskah was not present. He was usually amongst the most vocal against the encroachments of the white men, and Amitola would have thought he would have been eager to be in on a council that was dealing with a problem that could lead to issues with the town. His absence was most unusual, especially in recent times, as he had begun to scent the possibility that the tribal leadership position may soon be free. The man always had an opinion and was never shy about making sure everyone knew about it. Chief Iron Nation came over to him and put his arm around him. “The families will each provide you with a warrior, my son. You must find her, and fast. We cannot afford to have any more bad feeling with Oacoma. We are finally starting to make the peace we need. We cannot afford to let a foolish band of hotheads ruin our way of life.” Amitola could see just how exhausted the older man was. He looked truly old for the first time, though he couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t thought of the wise man as an old man – nobody could. He had been born with an old heart and an old mind. Amitola had the strongest feeling that his mentor would be walking with his ancestors soon. He did not want to even consider what that would mean for the tribe. Chief Iron Nation had dealt with the White Man and the
oyate
with fairness and diplomacy throughout his long leadership. There was nobody who could replace him that wouldn’t have undone his hard work within just a few years. Amitola knew the chief wanted him to take his place, but it was a role he had never coveted. It was the one thing he felt he couldn’t put his people above his own needs for. He wanted a quiet life, with a wife and children. Though Chief Iron Nation had all these things, he never had any time to spend with them, and that wasn’t what Amitola felt that he needed, or could ever bear. Being a stranger in his own home would be a sacrifice too far. There were enough men who did want power, and he would gladly keep his place on the council to offer advice and the voice of reason when needed; let them fight and squabble to take the reins, he would happily be the one to mediate and help his
tiyospaye
make the right decision as to who could continue to take them forward in peace.