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Authors: Cassie Edwards
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advantage of a woman, when he thought he had ambushed and shot a man! "A noble warrior and chief," she whispered sarcastically to herself as she plucked the soap from the water. "Hah. Scoundrel is more like it."
She placed the soap to her nose and sniffed. Lilacs. It smelled like lilacs. She would never have thought that Indians would own bars of soap.
Unless they had been taken forcefully from innocent travelers.
"Or traded for at a trading post?" she hoped aloud.
As quickly as she could, to avoid anyone who might decide to come into the tepee too soon, she stripped off her clothes. She laid them aside and momentarily covered her breasts with her folded arms.
Voices. She heard voices that were too close for comfort. If Cloud Eagle had told her to change clothes purposely to get her fully undressed, he could come at any moment.
Her heart pounded. She glued her eyes to the entrance flap.
When the voices passed on by outside and faded into the breeze, she sighed heavily and proceeded to take her sponge bath.
She wished for a regular bath, where she could immerse herself fully in the water. But as she became sparkling clean, smelling like the flowers of the forests that she had explored near Saint Louis, she again recalled Cloud Eagle telling her that he would take her into the river for a bath.
"When?" she whispered, once again staring at the entrance flap.
Her shoulders slouched with relief, realizing that it would surely not be today. He would not have brought her bath water if he had planned to give her a dunking in the river. After she was finished with her bath, she slipped the dress over her head. It was made of deerskin and extended to the knees with a fringe. It was ornamented with bits of bright, tiny pieces of glass.
She then slipped her feet into the moccasins. They came only a little above the ankles, with button-like projections at the toes.
The dress felt cottony soft against her flesh, but she felt something hard in the pocket that distracted her. She slipped her hand inside the pocket and withdrew a strange-looking gadget. She eyed it curiously. It looked as though it had been made from stiff porcupine quills.
"Is this meant to be used as a comb or hairbrush?" she whispered, arching an eyebrow.
She smiled as she recalled how Cloud Eagle had admired her hair shortly after he had discovered that she was a woman instead of a man. He apparently still found her hair fascinating. The comb could be his way of telling her to make her hair more presentable and lovely for him.
"For meanness I shouldn't," she said as she ran her fingers over the quills.
Yet she knew that she would feel much better if she rid her hair of its witch's knots and tangles.
Stretching her sore leg out on the pallet of furs, she proceeded to comb her hair. In only moments she had it lying across her shoulders in a coppery sheen. She ran her fingers through it, enjoying its clean, slick feel. She had managed to give it a slight washing in the basin so that even it now smelled like flowers.
She lay the comb aside and shoved the basin away from her. Her stomach ached and growled. There was no way to forget how hungry she was. And just as she was allowing herself to recall the wonders of a bacon-and-egg breakfast with flapjacks piled a mile high, dripping in butter and sorghum, Cloud Eagle entered, carrying a tray of food.
As he placed the tray before Alicia, she eyed it hungrily, then slipped her eyes upward and gazed at Cloud Eagle. She was very aware of how he was staring at her. It made her pulse race. The strange feelings that were now troubling the pit of her stomach were not only hunger pangs, but something else too. She had experienced this feeling before with Cloud Eagle. It was sweet and sensual.
And she knew the dangers in that. They were alone. Their feelings for one another lay heavy in the air. She wanted him, surely as a woman wanted a man.
And she could not allow him to know this. Not
She placed the soap to her nose and sniffed. Lilacs. It smelled like lilacs. She would never have thought that Indians would own bars of soap.
Unless they had been taken forcefully from innocent travelers.
"Or traded for at a trading post?" she hoped aloud.
As quickly as she could, to avoid anyone who might decide to come into the tepee too soon, she stripped off her clothes. She laid them aside and momentarily covered her breasts with her folded arms.
Voices. She heard voices that were too close for comfort. If Cloud Eagle had told her to change clothes purposely to get her fully undressed, he could come at any moment.
Her heart pounded. She glued her eyes to the entrance flap.
When the voices passed on by outside and faded into the breeze, she sighed heavily and proceeded to take her sponge bath.
She wished for a regular bath, where she could immerse herself fully in the water. But as she became sparkling clean, smelling like the flowers of the forests that she had explored near Saint Louis, she again recalled Cloud Eagle telling her that he would take her into the river for a bath.
"When?" she whispered, once again staring at the entrance flap.
Her shoulders slouched with relief, realizing that it would surely not be today. He would not have brought her bath water if he had planned to give her a dunking in the river. After she was finished with her bath, she slipped the dress over her head. It was made of deerskin and extended to the knees with a fringe. It was ornamented with bits of bright, tiny pieces of glass.
She then slipped her feet into the moccasins. They came only a little above the ankles, with button-like projections at the toes.
The dress felt cottony soft against her flesh, but she felt something hard in the pocket that distracted her. She slipped her hand inside the pocket and withdrew a strange-looking gadget. She eyed it curiously. It looked as though it had been made from stiff porcupine quills.
"Is this meant to be used as a comb or hairbrush?" she whispered, arching an eyebrow.
She smiled as she recalled how Cloud Eagle had admired her hair shortly after he had discovered that she was a woman instead of a man. He apparently still found her hair fascinating. The comb could be his way of telling her to make her hair more presentable and lovely for him.
"For meanness I shouldn't," she said as she ran her fingers over the quills.
Yet she knew that she would feel much better if she rid her hair of its witch's knots and tangles.
Stretching her sore leg out on the pallet of furs, she proceeded to comb her hair. In only moments she had it lying across her shoulders in a coppery sheen. She ran her fingers through it, enjoying its clean, slick feel. She had managed to give it a slight washing in the basin so that even it now smelled like flowers.
She lay the comb aside and shoved the basin away from her. Her stomach ached and growled. There was no way to forget how hungry she was. And just as she was allowing herself to recall the wonders of a bacon-and-egg breakfast with flapjacks piled a mile high, dripping in butter and sorghum, Cloud Eagle entered, carrying a tray of food.
As he placed the tray before Alicia, she eyed it hungrily, then slipped her eyes upward and gazed at Cloud Eagle. She was very aware of how he was staring at her. It made her pulse race. The strange feelings that were now troubling the pit of her stomach were not only hunger pangs, but something else too. She had experienced this feeling before with Cloud Eagle. It was sweet and sensual.
And she knew the dangers in that. They were alone. Their feelings for one another lay heavy in the air. She wanted him, surely as a woman wanted a man.
And she could not allow him to know this. Not
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