She took off the calico dress and washed it, laying it on the soft grass of the meadow to dry in the sun. Asila planned to leave it lying on top of the trunk in the barn.
She couldn’t wait to dress again in the soft deerskin garments that bared her arms and legs to the warm sun and cool breeze. The short skirt allowed her to move easily through the underbrush of the forest and in her loose cape, she could quickly pull her arms back far enough to draw a bowstring taut. Most of the Cherokee had adopted the white man’s style of dress, even in their own villages. The men wore trousers and loose shirts, the women full length calico dresses or skirts and long-sleeved blouses. Asila’s traditional garb was as much a statement of rebellion against the white man’s attempt to rule her people as it was a matter of comfort.
Arms full of damp clothing, Asila slipped on her deerskin skirt, picked up the baby and headed back to the cabin, her breasts defiantly bare once again. She could see the cabin door and knew the prudish young farmer had not returned unexpectedly. He was still hard at work in the fields.
She thought back to that moment a few days ago when she’d walked into the cabin dressed the same way. He’d taken her by surprise when he pulled her back outside and then jerked her over his knee, pulled up her skirt, and began striking her naked bottom.
At first she struggled to get away while trying not to hurt him. She quickly realized she’d underestimated him. He was much stronger than she thought. He stopped suddenly and led her to the barn, threw the dress at her, and demanded she put it on. Although he acted angry and insisted that she cover herself, Asila had seen the all-too-prominent evidence of his desire for her jutting out in the front of his pants.
If she were honest with herself, she had to admit she deliberately provoked him by stripping bare. In his weakened state, she was sure she could defend herself from any unwanted advance. But she never expected him to yank her over his knees again.
When he started spanking her stinging bottom even harder, he’d ignited an intense heat deep in her core while his rigid manhood pressed up against her mound. All thoughts of resistance had flown out of her head. She reacted instinctively to the evidence of his powerful virility, grinding her pleasure nub against him until waves of release washed over her.
What she didn’t understand was his reaction afterward.
He had brought her pleasure, although in an unfamiliar way, and she’d responded with a gift of her own. Dropping to her knees, she freed his throbbing erection and wrapped her hand around it. He’d watched intently as she slowly slid her palm down the length of him, then back up to massage the sensitive head with her fingers. He never made a sound, but his body was as quick to respond as hers had been. After she brought forth his seed, instead of gathering her into his arms or gently touching her face as a young brave would do, he’d reacted even more angrily, pushing her away. Ever since, he’d barely looked at her.
* * *
Out in the field, Gabriel too was remembering that passionate encounter. In fact, try as he might, he couldn’t get it out of his mind. During the day, he relived it, filled with guilt and shame.
At night, vivid dreams took over where reality had ended. Asila’s lush body lay beneath him, those long bare legs wrapped around his waist as he rammed himself into her.
He felt badly about the way he’d treated Asila over the last few days, coldly ignoring her because of his own lustful cravings. He had grown up in a strict Christian household where men were the leaders of their families, the unquestioned figures of authority. As a lad he’d been taught that women were weak and easily tempted, leading men into wickedness just as Eve did in the Bible. It was up to the man as head of the household to set the moral tone for his wife and children, to punish them for their misdeeds and disobedience.
Although he and Asila were not husband and wife, she was under his rule as long as she was under his roof. It was his duty to resist his own sinful desires and forgive her for her wicked act. He must patiently try to teach her right from wrong, rather than turn away from her in anger.
Gabriel decided he’d begin her education after their evening meal. He thought back to Sunday school and the simple Bible stories he’d learned as a child. Maybe he could start with reciting one of those each evening. It would help her learn to speak English as well as teaching her how to behave like a decent Christian woman.
He hoped if his mind was on the Good Book when he was around Asila, the hunger to have her naked body kneeling between his legs just one more time would disappear.
The faint sound of hoofbeats snapped him back to the present.
In the distance he could barely make out half a dozen figures on horseback. They were heading through the valley toward the farm, riding two by two. Soldiers. Gabriel panicked. They were still a long way off, but he had no doubt they would come to the cabin. They must be searching the area once again for Cherokees on the run.
Gabriel dropped his hoe and tore through the fields. He had to get back before they found Asila and the baby. They’d drag her off then lock her up. He’d already experienced her stubborn streak, her proud defiance. With the soldiers, resistance from an Indian squaw wouldn’t be met with a mere spanking. They’d beat her senseless if she fought them or tried to get away.
His mind raced. He’d put Asila and the child in the hayloft. Then he’d welcome the soldiers, invite them into the cabin as though he had nothing to hide. Maybe he’d tell them he’d seen footprints in his cornfield a few days ago, heading off into the woods to the south. There were miles of deep forest in that direction. They might search there for days, even weeks, leaving his little family in peace.
The strange thought nearly stopped him in his tracks. His little family? Somehow, the young runaway and her playful, innocent toddler had wormed their way into his life. She may have been ignorant in the ways of a proper white woman, but Asila’s quiet dignity as she went about her chores had drawn his grudging approval. And she was always patient and loving with the little one, just as he’d imagined Abigail would be with their child.
His heart sank. The soldiers were already in sight of the cabin. There was no time to put his plan into action. All he could hope was that Asila, too, had heard their approach and found a place to hide.
Breathless, he made it to the front porch just as they pulled up their horses in the yard. The young captain leading the small brigade dismounted and headed toward him.
“Good afternoon, sir. I’m Captain Stiles. We’re from Fort Butler in Murphy. We’ve gotten reports of two Cherokee braves sighted in the area, runaways who broke out of the stockade a few weeks back. These Indians are violent and dangerous. We think they may be heading this way. Have you seen or heard of any strangers in the area?”
“No, sir, I haven’t.”
“I see you’ve just returned from working in your fields. Do you mind if my men have a look through the house and barn? It’s possible the escapees took refuge on your property while you were away from home.”
“That’s not necessary, Captain. I’m sure I would have seen or heard them if they tried to conceal themselves here.”
“I dare not take the risk of having these criminals come out of hiding and overpower you after we ride away. For your own safety, I’m afraid I must insist, Mr…”
“Benton. Gabriel Benton,” he stammered, stepping in front of the door to bar their way. “I’m sorry. I cannot allow you to go inside.”
The door opened. A soft voice came from behind him.