Victor Strongheart followed the sounds drifting to him in the wind like the sweet, clear tinkling of wind chimes over the babble of flowing water. They were the chatterings and laughter of females where there should be none, but who was he to mistrust his own ears.
The warrior-lord moved with a hunter’s stealth as he followed the path parallel to the river. As the sounds grew louder, he dropped into a crouch and almost belly-crawled his way until the swimming hole came into view.
It was a beautiful spot, clear and deep, with a large, smooth boulder perched on the edge of the water, great for jumping into the river. Surrounded by sheltering trees and shrubs, it was the perfect place to bathe and frolic. That was exactly what the dozen or so young women were doing.
Strongheart realized what he was doing was not in any way dignified. However, the most honorable man in the world would be hard pressed to pass by a flock of naked young ladies and not stop for a tiny, indulgent glimpse. A wicked smile spread across his face as he settled to do some strategic and absolutely necessary spying.
Out of the water came the most tempting water nymph any man could imagine. The young woman made her way up the boulder to join her friends. Long, dark, wet hair clung to smooth shoulders and down her slim back to drip over the deep curve that gave way to luscious, firm buttocks. Thighs, long and smooth, met at the juncture where a small triangle of space between the legs could be seen.
As the beauty bent at the waist to gather her wet hair and squeeze the water from it, a full view of her fleshy little mound, pink, moist, nestled under her perfect ass, rewarded his appreciative eyes. She stood, turned, tossed the wealth of wet hair over her back, and raised her face to the sky, seeking the warm kiss of the sun upon her face. From round, firm breasts crowned with pebbled, rosy nipples, dripped iridescent fat drops of water.
“Enjoying yourself?” whispered a voice next to him, and he almost flew out of his skin.
“Hush, my friend,” he whispered, “that we may enjoy the view a bit longer.” As the two men watched, other lovely females came out of the water and climbed the boulder. Some squeezed out long, wet tresses. Others settled down with knees slightly apart to allow their intimate nooks to dry out in the sun, and a few sat combing their hair with hand-carved wooden combs.
One young lady, lush and soft like a mouth-watering peach, arranged herself on the smooth boulder while a friend rubbed her limbs with a white cream scooped out of a small clay pot. Beside him, his companion’s breath caught at such a tempting sight. “Such treasure to be had among the Choctaw,” the lord said to his friend.
A few moments later, a rider crested the rise on the far side of the river and rode down the embankment. She wore baggy trousers of faded-black cotton, a white, long-sleeved tunic belted around the waist, and a dark length of cloth wrapped around the head and shoulders to protect her from sun and wind.
“Annasai,” the young woman’s voice rang out from her perch on the horse. “Your father sends for you. The visitors are expected any time now, and he wants you at his side and looking presentable when they arrive.”
“No,” the beauty who first caught his attention called back. “The day is too beautiful to spend with boring old men. You go, Setiyah. You stand for me.”
The rider took a deep breath, considering her options. She dismounted and, not bothering to tether her mount, walked down to the boulder. “You know I can’t do that. You are the chief’s daughter. I’m only his niece. It’s your duty to be there. Are you not curious to see the man who will become your husband?”
At this point, Eric Salvo turned to the man who was both his lord and closest friend and grinned. “You are a lucky bastard! That stunning girl is the chief’s daughter. I bet the Accord will not be so hard to keep after all.”
Victor Strongheart, lord of Daniel’s Fork and commander of its warriors, smiled so widely, his face threatened to crack. “Not hard at all.” On the far bank, the argument continued.
“Annasai, quit being such a child and come down. We must dry and braid your hair and make you presentable. There’s little time. Hurry.”
“No, Setiyah. Go back, wear my clothes, cover your head, and stand for me. No one will know the difference. Please, please? Do it for me, my love. I will be there tonight for the feast, I promise.” Annasai pouted her lush lips in a pleading gesture.
Setiyah stood there a moment longer, gazing in frustration at her beautiful cousin. How Annasai always managed to wrap her cousin around her little finger was something Setiyah had long ceased to ask herself. The girls, born six months apart with Setiyah the eldest, were extreme opposites.
One acted like she was the mother, and the other behaved like a child. Where one was serious and contemplative, the other was all laughter and impulse. While one was responsible and sensible, the other was wild and selfish. One was mindful of the future of the tribe, but the other thought only of the moment and her own fun.
Still, Annasai was neither evil nor hurtful, as Setiyah well knew. She was just like a songbird, light, playful, wanting to have fun while her beauty was fresh and her power strong. Setiyah sighed and took up her task.
These were the careless, wonderful days of youth before Annasai had to settle to a husband, children, and the rigors of duty. The last freedom before she had to marry a man she did not know, maybe even an ugly, mean-tempered brute. All because the Accord between the tribes and the territory must be upheld.
Setiyah mounted her horse and left, and the girls all jumped back in the water with much laughter and careless abandon. The two men took the opportunity to make a quick, quiet retreat. Ten minutes later, they were back on the trail with their men.
The lord of Daniel’s Fork and its vast territory was an imposing figure. A tall man, just maybe an inch over six feet, he was built for strength with wide shoulders, well-muscled arms, strong thighs, and not an ounce of fat on his warrior’s body. He was not a young man, having just crossed his fortieth birthday.
A sprinkling of gray was already beginning to show at his temples. Like most men of his time, he opted to keep his hair longish, just touching his collarbone, and he often swept his hands through it to keep it out of his face. His calm, easy manner masked his strength and determination. His soft, brown eyes observed everything around him with intelligence and discretion.
Lord Strongheart carried few weapons. A blade resembling a large hunter’s knife was usually strapped to his right thigh, a rolled leather whip clipped to the other. For this formal occasion, he bore none. He wore the fitted dress jacket that sported the epaulets and symbol of his rank as both lord of men and commander of warriors.
Setiyah stood beside her uncle and kept as silent as possible. She wore her cousin’s best dress, a gown made of soft-spun cotton, hand dyed in glorious purple. The embroidery at the bottom edge of the flowing skirt took weeks of meticulous labor. Setiyah also had one just like it, but hers was crimson instead of purple.
The dress had a deep, round neckline which was not apparent because Setiyah had taken a long wrap of soft, violet, cotton gauze decorated with tiny glass beads, and she’d wrapped it about her head, face, and shoulders. Only her eyes were uncovered, but they were hidden in the deep shadow of the wrap, and she kept them cast down.
The girl knew her uncle had guessed the game being played, and he was seething with fury at his daughter’s failure to obey his call. She was also sure Annasai would show up tonight, and she would smile her charming smile, dance her sensual dance for the pleasure of all, and all would be forgiven.
Setiyah did not worry about her uncle, but she worried about the man in front of her. He did not look to her like a man to be fooled by two young girls, no matter how smart they thought they were. She wished she could watch and observe him, but that would have to wait.
“This is my daughter, Annasai Songbird.” Her uncle took her hand and offered it to the impressive specimen of a man in front of her. Setiyah took one small step forward. She kept her gaze downcast and her face hidden, hoping she could get away without having to say a single word.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Annasai Songbird,” the impressive male answered in a deep, masculine voice that made the girl tremble. He took her hand from her uncle and touched it to his lips for a chaste kiss.
The girl remained silent, her face hidden in shadows. Innocent confusion evident on his honest, noble face, Strongheart addressed the chief. “Is something wrong? Will she not speak to me?”
Chief Soaring Eagle, proud leader of the new Choctaw people, felt his face flush hot as he struggled to muddle through the ridiculous situation his willful daughter had created. All around him, his people gathered to welcome and observe the visitors, but they also came to watch the chief work his way out of the comical situation. Everyone knew the girl standing next to him was not his accursed hellion of a daughter.
In the crowd, someone snickered, and a few females giggled. All of them, eyes bright with silent laughter, watched him. He gathered his dignity about him, stood straight and regal, and prepared to do what all great leaders and politicians have done since the beginning of time. He would lie with aplomb.
“My young daughter is shy, much in awe of a warrior such as you, so powerful and so much older. You can imagine her fear of saying the wrong thing and displeasing you. But I promise, as she gets to know you better, she will relax and soon will be talking far too much.” Among the people, several coughed, and many shook in silent laughter. Chief Soaring Eagle stood proud and stern, staring daggers into the crowd.
“Of course, I understand. A proper lady is never used to being the center of attention.” The crowd threatened to erupt into a full-blown gale of laughter as people looked down at their toes, shoulders shaking, restraining palms clamped over their mouths.
Strongheart once more bent to touch his lips to the girl’s hand and to peer into the shadowy eyes with intensity. “I look forward to getting to know you, my dear. I intend to coax you out of the shell you so sweetly build around yourself.”
Setiyah shivered under the man’s regard. The tingling his lips had caused on her hand was growing, spreading over her body, and was now settling somewhere below her womb.
This isn’t good, she thought in desperation. He’s handsome enough to please any woman, but this is a devious, deep, and cunning man. He will not be easy to fool, will be hard to resist, and impossible to control. Annasai must be warned.
Following the introductions, they gathered at the large, round table Chief Soaring Eagle commissioned for just such occasions. It gave the impression they were all sitting around a fire as was done in the old days. But sitting on the floor for hours was not a comfortable thing when you were getting on in years, as was the case with most of the tribal elders.
Resourceful as he was, the chief came up with the progressive idea of using a large, round table. In the middle of it was an opening where a stone vessel the size of an old metal wash bucket was fitted. In it, a nice fire burned. There were wide chairs with plump cushions, and the guests sat in total comfort as the traditional pipe was passed around.
Strongheart insisted his intended bride sit between him and the chief, and he did everything in his power to engage her in conversation. It was his sworn intent to bring her out of her shell.
“Do you have any sisters?” he asked as he tried to peer into her face.
Setiyah shook her head in a gesture that clearly meant no, but she kept her head down with determination.
“What a shame,” he murmured to his captain loud enough for the girl to hear. “I prefer a girl who can be heard and is not fearful as a mouse.”
Setiyah bristled with indignation. How dare he be so rude and insulting. Did he think she could not understand? He then addressed Chief Soaring Eagle.
“Are you sure you don’t have any other daughter to offer?”
“No,” replied the chief looking sorrowful. “She’s my only one. I do have a niece but, I assure you, she would not be suitable. Besides, the Accord would not allow it.” The chief glanced at the girl and looked uncomfortable.
“A niece, you say. Does she speak?”
“Oh, yes,” the chief piped up, a sudden spark of mischief flashing in his eyes. “She has firm opinions on most topics and is always happy to share them. The opposite of this one, she is. Cunning, scheming, and tricky as any woman can be.”
The chief gave the girl a blistering look as if it was her fault her cousin should be so. Under the table, the girl kicked her uncle in the shins, causing him to wince in pain and pull his feet away from her.
“You are right. She would not do. I believe women should be taught to keep their opinions to themselves. They have neither the emotional nor the intellectual depth men have, and their opinions are quickly formed and easily changed.” Turning to his left, he addressed his captain and loyal friend. “What do you think, Eric?”
“I have to agree with you, Victor. To most men, women with opinions aren’t very attractive. Besides, as you are so fond of saying, females have little logic. As a result, their opinions are often flawed.” Eric was enjoying himself.
“A cunning, tricky female is worse than a she-fox in the chicken coop,” added the lord. Under her coverings, the girl made a low, growling sound. Strongheart once again peered at her with concern.
“Oh, but my niece is very wise. Setiyah listens to all the discussions held by the elders. She always seeks new knowledge of herbs and distillations. My niece loves nothing better than to discover old, lost crafts and ancient writings.”
“If that is true, this niece of yours will remain unmarried forever. Some weak, spineless sod who craves guidance might take her. I bet she’s also very unattractive. Women who give themselves to thinking and learning do so because they have no beauty or grace to fall back on.” At once, a choking sound came from the girl next to him.
“Are you sure you’re all right, my dear?” he asked her. The girl nodded as she coughed.
“This is a most excellent ale, superior to any brewed at Daniel’s Fork.” He took the pitcher and poured a generous mug. “Here, my sweet, have some. This will soothe your throat and loosen your tongue.” He reached out with his free hand to grasp her gauzy shroud, so he could place the mug to her lips.
The girl panicked and slapped his hand away as if she was swatting a bothersome fly, but she accepted the mug and took a small sip while holding the fabric to her chin. She murmured a thank you and bent her head once more to hide in her cowl.
“You’re welcome, my dear. Now, I imagine your beautiful face makes your cousin look like a horse-faced hag. I assure you; your beauty is all that matters. You need not have a single thought in your pretty little head to please me. Will you let me have a glimpse of your face? Just give me a little peek to let me see I’m not being saddled with some ugly hag like your cousin. How about it, love?”
And once again, Strongheart reached out to take her chin in his hand and lift her face to him. Setiyah, now desperate and furious, pulled away so fast, she overturned and, with a shriek of anger, fell out of the chair.
Pandemonium broke loose as everyone rushed to lift her from the floor. She swatted, snapped, and cursed as she struggled to get on her feet while keeping her face shrouded. Many hands grabbed her arms and waist to lift her, but a daring pair of questing hands took the opportunity to slide in a familiar caress over her ass and into the cleave of her buttocks. She could not protect herself because her own hands were busy trying to keep her face hidden.
It was he, the beast, she was sure! She was going to murder her cousin. If Annasai married this bastard, she would never speak to her again. As everyone settled down, the girl tried to compose herself.
Under her yards of shrouding, she was sweating like a hog on the day before the feast, and the man was proving as deft as an eight-legged spider dropping from its web down a tree. Besides, the remarks he made were irking her to no end, and she burned to put him in his place.
She was not ugly, she had excellent opinions, and no man ever, ever, had dared to touch her ass without her consent. She closed her eyes for a few moments, willing her heart to slow down, forcing herself to take deep, calming breaths. She tried to think of light, soothing, gentle rain. When she opened her eyes again, she felt much better.
“If this cousin is as you say she is,” the ridiculous man was addressing her uncle once more, “I will make sure my sweet bride is kept as far away from her as possible. I don’t want this shy, gentle girl getting any ideas from her unsuitable cousin.”
He addressed himself to the girl. “You, my sweet, will remain beautiful, gentle, innocent, and unspoiled. You will not see your cousin once we’re married. So, I shall decree.” He smiled at her, the spark of mischief in his eyes glowing, and he chucked her shrouded chin as if she were a child, adding insult to injury.
That was the final straw. Setiyah jumped out of her chair in a rush of hot anger and pushed her chair back. With all the control and dignity she could muster, she started to leave the table, but something made her pause. She thought for a moment.
With every male eye around the table trained on her, she came back to stand by her place, lifted the pitcher of ale, and slowly poured it over the handsome lord’s head. Then, she regally walked out, the measured clip-clop of her boots filling the silence in the room.
