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Suddenly Running Fawn’s friends and their three young Mexican lovers sneaked up on Running Fawn and Pedro and jumped out from behind the bushes, laughing and joking.
“Running Fawn, my beautiful señorita, you must have some tequila before you return to papa,” Miguel teased as he staggered over to Running Fawn and Pedro and fell clumsily down beside them.
Starshine, one of Running Fawn’s friends, tripped and fell on the other side of Running Fawn, her face flushed from the tequila she had already consumed. “Come on, Running Fawn,” she said, yanking the jug of tequila from Miguel.
He shoved it into Running Fawn’s hand after she had managed to quickly lower her skirt, her face flushed from having been discovered making love so openly with Pedro.
“I must not drink any,” Running Fawn said, shoving the jug away. “And I must return home now. If my father returns home before me and finds me gone, he will never forgive me.”
“Señorita, you have stayed this long. It shouldn’t hurt to stay longer,” Miguel said, grabbing the bottle from Starshine and shoving it forcefully into Running Fawn’s hands.
She had no choice but to take it, else drop it and spill the stinking stench of tequila all over her skirt.
“Do not be, eh, what is it you say, Miguel, when I do not do as you ask?” Starshine said, giggling as she leaned her face into his, running her tongue across his thick lips.
“Do not be a prude,” Miguel said, yanking Starshine closer, his hands cupping her newly budded breasts through the cotton fabric of her blouse. He yanked her closer and kissed her, their tongues flicking between each other’s lips.
“It might steady your nerves,” Pedro urged. “It might ease your fear of your father.”
“I do not fear him,” Running Fawn spat out. “I . . . just . . don’t want to antagonize him.”
And to prove that she could do anything her friends could do, Running Fawn tipped the jug to her lips and choked down several swallows.
“There, now don’t you feel better, sweet señorita?” Pedro asked, placing an arm around her waist, drawing her close. She held the jug away from her as he licked the tequila from her lips, then kissed her.
Giggling, the tequila lethal to a young maiden who never touched the stuff, Running Fawn soon felt giddy and lightheaded. She pushed Pedro away and took another long, deep swallow.
“That’s enough,” Pedro said, grabbing the jug away from her.
He had waited too long to take it from her. Dizzy, and feeling her stomach doing flip-flops, Running Fawn ran behind a bush and retched.
When she stepped back into view, swaying, she smiled awkwardly at Pedro, then fell in a dead faint on the ground.
Pedro panicked. He was afraid that there was no way that Running Fawn’s father would not discover where she had been tonight, and with whom.
“I must get her home,” he said thickly. He looked at the others.
The girls scrambled to their feet and, wild eyed with worry, ran off into the forest toward home.
“Cowardly señoritas!” Pedro shouted after them.
He watched his friends run away also.
Alone with Running Fawn, he sighed, then picked her up in his arms and carried her toward home.
When he came to the outside edge of the Kickapoo village, he stopped and laid her gently on the ground.
Bending low over her, Pedro gently shook her by the shoulders. “Running Fawn, wake up,” he whispered. “You must get home. Now! Oh, pretty señorita, wake up, or we shall never be able to meet like this again. Your father will guard you. I . . . don’t . . . think I can live without your loving now that I have tasted of it!”
Running Fawn groaned and rolled over on her side.
Afraid to wait any longer, Pedro took one long last look at her, then rose to his feet and ran into the shadows.
Chapter 6
Oh, love more real than though
such dreams were true,
