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Spending so much time with the Indian, watching her day-to-day activities and interactions with her child, Gabriel had begun to question the truth of all he had been told about the Cherokee tribe. Far from acting like an unfeeling savage, Asila showed kindness and warmth to the little one. There was intelligence in her eyes. He even saw flashes of humor. At times, it seemed as though she even understood what he was saying when he spoke to her.
He vowed to keep a closer eye on her. He felt much stronger after several days of rest. Tomorrow he’d go tend to his fields, but when he came home at suppertime, he’d try to communicate with her again to see if she really was beginning to understand a bit of his language.
That night Gabriel had an especially hard time falling asleep. Asila and the baby were snuggled together on the floor across the cabin. She’d made a sort of nest for them, with a bed of soft hay from the barn covered by the patchwork quilt he’d given them. He listened to her rhythmic breathing for what seemed like hours, finally rolling over to watch her as she slept.
With the curtains gone, light from a full moon streamed in through the window by his bed. He could see Asila clearly. She was lying on her side, with her back to him. Even in sleep, her body curled protectively around the little one. He stared at the long hair that reached nearly to her waist, remembering how it had brushed her naked breasts when she came in after bathing in the stream. The night was humid and the soft calico gown clung to her body, outlining the curve of her waist and the swell of her lush bottom.
Gabriel stifled a groan, as the image of that naked bottom writhing on his lap flooded his mind. He had spanked Abigail once, not long after they were married. It was his duty as head of the household. She had argued with him, responding in an angry tone of voice when he gave her an order. Abigail didn’t understand his commands were only given to ensure her safety and wellbeing here in the wilderness. His orders were to be obeyed immediately, without question or complaint.
He’d performed his duty, taking his bride across his lap, pulling up her gown and paddling her soundly with the flat back of her wooden hairbrush. The paddling took place over her drawers. Meant solely as a disciplinary measure, there was nothing sexual about the act. He warned Abigail if her behavior ever warranted it, he would be forced to paddle her bare bottom. But his wife was compliant and contrite, and he never had to make good on the threat.
He’d been shocked to find the Indian woman naked under her short deerskin skirt when he’d yanked her over his lap. He’d never spanked a bare behind, but by then he’d been too angry to stop. Watching her lush bottom bucking and quivering, feeling the heat his rough palm ignited on her bare skin – Gabriel’s cock was hard as iron before he’d delivered half a dozen strokes. The unexpected arousal fed his anger. It was wicked to feel lust, and it was all the fault of the brazen savage. He’d pushed her away, wanting only to end the temptation.
He remembered all too clearly what had happened next. Although he tried to excuse the incident, blaming his shameful behavior on the strange herbal potion she’d fed him, Gabriel knew in his heart that he’d been of sound mind. When he handed her the dress, he never turned his head away. He’d been hoping to catch another glimpse of her bare breasts. But he never expected her to drop her skirt, allowing him a full view of her naked body.
Abigail was modest, and, in all the time they were married, he’d never seen her completely unclothed. When Asila stood before him, boldly exposing her most private parts, his manhood instantly sprang to attention.
At that moment, Gabriel understood the preacher’s warnings about heathen squaws. She had no shame, no sense of modesty. She seemed to be flaunting her body, tempting him to touch, to taste. All he could think of to do in response was to grab her, pull her over his lap, and spank her into submission.
But rather than dissolve into tearful remorse as Abigail did when he spanked her, Asila responded in a totally unexpected way. She began making sounds of arousal, grinding her naked body against his stiff rod with every whack of his hand until he could bear it no longer. When she cried out with pleasure, he pushed her away, shocked. But, by then, his body had taken over, and when she knelt before him and bared his raging manhood, he was powerless to resist.
Over the last few nights, Asila’s face had been the one he saw in his dreams, her warm body the one he caressed. In his waking hours, he tried hard not to look at her, not to dwell on the images from nighttime fantasies that left him both aroused and confused. But now, in the moonlight, he gave way to the hunger that had been building, allowing images of the two of them together to fill his mind. Gabriel reached down and wrapped his fist around his erect member, recalling how soft her hand felt when she stroked up and down its length.
Finally, he forced himself to roll over, turning away from the sight of her. Gabriel vowed he’d go back into the fields tomorrow, whether he was fully recovered or not. From now on, he’d work himself into exhaustion every day, leaving no time or energy for such sinful thoughts to occur again.
Chapter Five
The smell of bacon woke him.
Gabriel was surprised to see she’d already laid out a square of oilcloth and was busily wrapping bacon and biscuits in what looked like a sack lunch. She motioned him to the table, poured a mug of hot coffee, and set a plate heaped with more biscuits and bacon in front of him.
He was in a foul mood. He’d slept poorly, tossing and turning for what seemed like hours. When he finally drifted off, his dreams were filled once again with images of Asila, her lush, naked body spread out before him like a feast set in front of a starving man.
He tried not to look at her, but when she moved around the room behind him, her distinctive scent overpowered the smell of the food. It was the blend of clover and the other aromatic herbs she used to bathe and wash her hair. He remembered that scent all too well. Angrily, he banished the visions welling up in his mind of her soft, full breasts covered only with a curtain of dark hair, fragrant with those sweet herbs and flowers.
Even Salai’s tiny face beaming up at him failed to lighten his spirits. He turned away when she crawled over and reached out to him. Her face fell, and Asila rushed over to pick her up, whispering softly in the child’s ear in their strange language. It made Gabriel feel even worse. The little one had done nothing to deserve his ill temper.
He got up from the table, anxious to be away from both of them for a while. “I’m going out to the fields,” he announced, knowing that he was speaking more for his own benefit than for hers. “I’ll be gone all day.”
As though she understood his meaning, Asila handed him the packet of food she’d been wrapping up.. He took it without meeting her eyes and headed out the door.
* * *
Asila watched him head down the lane then sprang into action. She planned to be long gone with the baby before Gabriel returned. She’d cook enough cornbread and biscuits to last them for a week on the trail, leaving plenty for the farmer as well. He would come home hungry and exhausted tonight, after days away from hard physical labor. As a Medicine Woman, she still bore the responsibility of caring for him. And she’d been raised to do her share of the daily chores while she lived under the roof of another, cooking on his fire and eating his food.
Although he acted cold and unfeeling most of the time, Asila could not be angry with him. He had never been cruel to Salai. And despite the harsh way he treated her on the day he’d surprised her and gotten up from his sickbed, Asila did not blame him. He’d been too ill with fever to realize she had saved his life by treating the snakebite with her Medicine. Weak and hurt, all he saw were dangerous Indians invading his home. He hadn’t stabbed her or shot her. Only her pride had been injured by his treatment. In his place, she would have done much worse to any white man who posed a threat to her or her family.
She stuffed Salai with what remained of breakfast, laughing as the child gleefully waved two fistfuls of bacon in the air, chomping first on one then the other. The little one would sleep well later, tummy full with rich food, nourishment enough to keep her strong and healthy for days.
Asila planned to forage on the trail, supplementing their cornbread and biscuits with whatever edible plants she could find in the forest. There would be no more bacon or turkey or rabbit meat for them while they were on their journey. She was used to living that way. Her tribe often went days without meat, eating dried corn and beans when hunting was poor.
But dried corn and beans had to be boiled or baked to be eaten, and Asila knew it might be days before she could risk building a fire. So she took advantage of her last opportunity to cook, preparing rations she could easily carry on their trip.
Asila ladled bacon grease into the center of a bowl filled with cornmeal from the cupboard. Adding a fresh egg and a pinch of salt, she crumbled in a few leaves of dried sage from her Medicine bag, then mixed it all together and poured it into an iron skillet to bake on the hearth. At home in her village, she would have gone to the community storehouse and fetched honey to add to the batter. But Gabriel didn’t have any honey. She shook her head, amazed at how poorly he’d stocked his larder when there was such bounty to be had right outside his door.
She made a stack of the flat corn cakes, then started on biscuits. Both would last for days on the trail. When they got too hard to chew, she’d break them into bits in a bowl, adding water and some fresh greens to make a soft mush the baby could eat.
While the biscuits were baking, she took Salai down to the creek for one last bath in the warm, shallow water, another luxury that they might not have the opportunity to enjoy again for days. Where they were headed, high in the mountains, crystal clear streams were plentiful but the water was bitterly cold, even in the heat of summer.
