She realized quickly that she had no shirt on now and she grabbed the blanket to cover herself. The old woman smiled and left.
She looked about for her shirt finding it was in a corner. Eve gathered her shirt and put it on quickly.
She sat up and the baby woke up. She climbed in her lap. Eve snuggled against Jane Ann. "Oh darling, I'm so glad you are all right."
She had to wash. The need to wash made her nearly cry. The reality of what she'd done hit her. How could she submit to an Indian? An Indian she had fantasized about for so long.
She was guilty.
The squaw came back in and offered her food. She took it. It was some kind of mush and Eve fed her baby first.
The squaw looked at her and smiled a toothless smile.
Eve tried to be kind, but her shame put her at such a disadvantage. How could she be nice to people who drug her through the forest, and wouldn't let her go? How could she ever trust Hawk again? Yet, the blame was not entirely on him. She had been an active participant. She thought about that.
It was the most glorious moment of her life, and shame had no part of it. She had never known such passion. He had taken innocence from her that shocked and pleased her all in the same breath.
He taught her how to make love, she realized. She'd never made love. Yes, she'd had sex with her husband, cold and hard. Last night was not just sex. That was the problem, and she had participated in it.
Yet guilt plagued her. She should have stopped him. But how do you stop something so wonderful? How do you stop something you've dreamed about a lifetime? If only she hadn't enjoyed it. If only she had the right to be justifiably indignant about it.
How could she face him, if he did come back for her? For her guilt was as great as his sin.
Anger and other emotions warred with her.
He had touched her first, but her shame lie in the fact that she had let him. She hadn't once struggled to be free. She hadn't wanted to be free. She wanted to experience what love felt like. She had to.
At twenty-four with two children, she realized she had finally at last been made love to. Her mother had found this love with her father.
Love?
How could she even think of love? He was an Indian! He took her! She had to quit mixing the two up.
Nevertheless, he hadn't raped her; he'd truly made love with her. Part of her wanted to rejoice. Another part of her wanted to throw a fit and be mad.
He was gone now. He might never return. She had mixed emotions about that too. He consumed her thoughts as she played with Jane Ann for a while, distracting herself from the realities that morning had brought her.
They let her outside to walk around and she saw that there was a creek below. For a moment, she looked around the camp. Women sat weaving baskets, cutting meat to dry for jerky, chewing leather to make moccasins. Every woman in camp was busy doing something. The men seemed to stand in groups, or were busy with their weapons.
She so wanted to bath. She motioned for the squaw to the creek. The squaw nodded.
She walked down to the edge of the water and held Jane Ann by the hand. She peeled the top layers of her clothes off, and then she undressed Jane Ann completely and bathed her. Because there were braves up the hill from her, she left her undergarments on, she splashed water on her and Jane Ann. Jane Ann laughed and splashed back. The pure joy of being alive swamped her for a moment. She was alive, at least. Her children were alive. Perhaps she should just be grateful for her life and her children's. The less she dwelled on what had happened the better off she'd be.
The old squaw smiled. What was it the old squaw was so pleased about?
Other maidens came to the creek to bath too. She watched them and they all found her and Jane Ann interesting. All the maidens jumped into the water, naked. It shocked her. Were Indians more open to their own sexuality? Had she merely stumbled into making love? Perhaps they looked at it differently. That put a new perspective on it.
She couldn't and wouldn't think on it. She had to get sex and making love off her brain. She had to think what might come next, especially if Hawk didn't return.
She hoped her clothes would dry, but they were still wet even though she laid them in the hot sun.
She wondered about Matthew. She didn't want to think too much. He could be lying dead somewhere. That thought brought tears to her eyes.
Surely, Hawk would take care of him, but after last night, she wasn't sure of anything anymore. He wasn't the man she thought him. She wasn't the woman she'd thought of herself, either. How could she have so lost herself in him?
For a woman who feigned liking sex with her husband, she had surely acted out of character last night.
Then she realized she'd never been touched like that before. She'd never enjoyed sex with her husband, and he was the only man that had ever touched her, until now. That feeling of completion had snared her, as she remembered it vividly.