Captive Travelers (17 page)

The trio walked back under the tarp and through the village to Soquila’s teepee. Along the way, children walked shyly up to the cows and handed them picked wildflowers. Ganali laughed with them when they dashed away. Waka smiled, and turned to Soquila. Through clenched teeth, she said, “You’d better find us something to wear.”

They ducked under the flap of the tent, and Waka surveyed the surroundings. The space was well organized, though sparse. “Ganali, what chores did you to for Tokala?”

“Everything, except hunt.” Ganali twirled around the tent. Tokala had only one sleeping fur, and she slept on bare ground. Soquila had a whole stack of them on one side of the tent. “There must be ten furs,” she gasped.

“I was trying to figure out a way to barter for Waka,” Soquila admitted.

“We may be able to trade some of them for tanned skins. With three of us, we’ll need a few from the pile to sleep on,” Waka said. “Ganali, maybe Awi or Tala can suggest a pattern for a shift for us, and help with moccasins. Remember to ask, this afternoon. Soquila, we will need a bigger fire pit to cook over. Build one outside so we don’t fill this thing up with smoke.”

Soquila grinned. His woman was smart. “I had not thought of that, Waka.” It was nice to have someone figure out how to make this work. “You called me your warrior,” he smiled.

“You are my warrior. And you better tell the rest of them to keep their damn hands off me,” Waka snapped.

“Um… not me, though. Right?” Ganali was digging through the furs.

“Ganali, I don’t care if you fuck like a rabbit, as long as you’re here at night,” Waka replied.

Ganali stood and her breasts jiggled as she bounced over to her and threw her arms around her neck. “Oh, Waka. I just knew you were going to be the best.”

Waka looked at the stack of furs. “Soquila, can you trade some of those for tanned skins that are ready to stitch?”

“I think so.” He looked down at the stack of furs. “I have an older woman who tans skins for me, and some of the other warriors who have no woman.”

“Well, Ganali can tan them in the future, but for now, see if she will take some of these in trade. Leave four for us to sleep on, and we will need at least three prepared large hides for shifts and moccasins,” Waka decided. “Ganali, go with him and make sure they’re soft. Tell her they are for women.”

The two of them left with their arms loaded with furs, and Waka looked around the tent and smiled. She cupped her breasts and squeezed them. “Oh, my beauties. I knew I put up with those digging bra straps and backaches for some reason.”

She took stock of her surroundings. It really was not that bad here. Okay, so she was the equivalent of a cow. “I’m a production supervisor,” she whispered. In exchange for this, she was not going to have to do very much work, not with Soquila and Ganali under her thumb. No more dive bars to pick up drunken losers, either. She had herself a handsome Indian warrior to fuck.

Her mind flashed to Jenny for an instant, and she felt a small twinge in her chest. She knew she did not love Jenny. They fitted together at a time when they needed each other. Cici hoped Jenny would be happy.
And that’s where I’m leaving Cici. Here, I’m Waka. In charge of my own life, with a man and woman of my own, and respected by a whole damn Indian tribe.

Soquila and Ganali returned with tanned skins. “Oh, Waka,” Ganali gushed, and she actually batted her eyes at Soquila. “You should have seen our warrior.”

“My warrior,” Waka reminded her.

“Oops. Anyway, when old Nacoma tried to give him three skins for the furs, he held one up and it had a hole in it. A big hole, right in the middle. And one… one was so stiff and scratchy that Soquila told her he wouldn’t patch his teepee with it. He yelled at her, Waka. He said the skins were for his women.”

“Woman,” Waka seethed.

“Well, it would sound like you were really big, to need five perfect skins just for yourself,” Ganali pouted. She immediately brightened up again, and grabbed a skin from Soquila. “Feel this. It’s doe. Three of them are, and the other two are good for moccasins and pouches and stuff.”

Ganali kept gushing on about what a wonderful trade Soquila had made, and Waka walked up and thumbed through the skins. “Thank you. These are perfect.”

Soquila smiled in relief. He had never bartered with such intensity and with so much at stake. Ganali had chatted the entire time, making it difficult to concentrate. She was still going on about the trade.

Waka whispered, “We might want to reconsider the mouth ring.” She winked, and Soquila felt his breechclout rise again.

There was a shadow at the flap of the tent. Soquila called, “Come in.”

An ancient woman walked in, with wrinkles lining her face and grey shot through her hair. Soquila’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, Nacoma? You wish to try to cheat me again?”

“No, Soquila. I am sorry. I did not know the skins were for the cows. I just learned this from the talk of the tribe. The children were laughing and telling their mothers how Soquila, the great trainer, has taken both cows as his own.”

The old woman reached her hand into a pouch on her hip. She held her hand out to Waka. There were dozens of colorful beads to stitch onto their new shifts. “Thank you for your sacrifice for our children. I have humiliated myself by trying to cheat your warrior.”

Holy shit.
“The skins are lovely, Nacoma. Thank you for the hard work. We had no time to tan our own, and these beads will make them even more beautiful.” Waka hoped she said the right thing. The poor old woman probably worked her fingers off tanning those hides.

“You accept my small gift?” The woman’s eyes were hopeful.

“I happen to have a passion for looking my best. With your skins and the beads, Soquila will be proud to have us walk with him.”

When Nacoma left, Waka sighed. “Well, it seems as though the entire tribe is going to be under the illusion you are a great man with two women,” Waka said.

Soquila grinned nervously. He could think of a worse reputation. He tried to judge Waka’s feelings about this.

“Ganali?” Waka tried to get her attention. She was digging through the beads in her hand. “I get the green, blue and red ones.”

“Okay, Waka. There’s more brown than anything else. They’re good as spacers. If you put two brown ones, and then a green one…”

Waka rolled her eyes. “Enough. Let’s get the damn dresses made, first. Now, listen.” She looked up at Soquila. “Both of you. Inside this tent, I belong to Soquila, and Ganali, you belong to me. Got it? Outside, we will make sure that it is known the two cows have moved in with Soquila because he was such a talented trainer. He will be respected by the other warriors, and it will leave a helluva’ lot less explaining to do.”

“You belong to me,” Soquila nodded. Confusion filled his eyes. “Waka, exactly what does that mean?”

“It means you will do whatever I tell you to do. Got it?”

Something she had said finally dawned on him. “Is that ‘calling the shots’?”

“Yes. Is there a problem with that?”

“I don’t think so,” he said. “I think, even for a great trainer, it might be difficult to try to guide you all of the time.”

“That’s a very good way to look at it,” Waka smiled. He really was sweet, in a savage sort of way.

“Soquila?” There were two more shadows at the entrance to the tent; two more
women
shadows.

Waka lifted her eyebrow. “Will we be interrupting a busy social life for you?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know who they are.”

“Well? Tell them to come in.” Waka picked up a sleeping fur and wrapped it around herself. Ganali was sitting on another one, separating the beads.

The young women had children hiding behind them, and never stepped beyond the entrance to the tent. “Soquila, we have brought some fuel for your fire and extra food. We thought your women might not have time to collect them today.”

“Thank you. Ganali will be gathering for us tomorrow, but we did not have a chance to prepare for this sudden change,” Soquila smiled.

Ganali looked up at the mention of her name, and she bolted to her feet. “How is Honani?”

“He is doing much better,” his wife replied. “He has a big scar, and he has had every child in the village to our teepee to hear his brave story and warning,” she laughed. She tucked one of Ganali’s curls behind her ear. “And you? I’m so pleased you found another warrior.”

For once, Ganali was quiet. There was nothing nice she could say about her time with Tokala, and Honani’s wife knew this. “It is odd that twin brothers could be so different,” the woman said softly. “It is like Tokala gave Honani all the goodness and kindness when they were still in their mother’s belly. He always made his life so difficult, when it didn’t have to be. I know your time with him was not easy, but Honani was always grateful you were there to try to ease his brother’s bitterness. Awi told me the first thing you did when you learned of the attack was ask about my husband. It is right that you should have a good life, now.”

“I’m glad that Honani will heal,” Ganali murmured. Her face lit up. “If Soquila lets me come to see you, can he tell me the story about the bear?” She turned to Waka. “You should hear Honani tell stories. You can almost picture what is happening.”

Honani’s wife laughed and looked over at Waka. “That is, as long as you don’t mind picturing my husband larger than life, faster than an antelope, and always the brave warrior.” She looked down at the toddler fisting the fringe on her shift, and back at Waka. “It is so nice to have you here, Waka. I will come by to welcome you properly when my husband has healed and you are settled.”
No doubt about it. That woman rules the teepee as much as I rule mine.

They decided to eat lunch inside the teepee because Waka was not ready to greet visitors until she had her shift. Ganali carried the skins to the pens when Soquila walked them back for the late milking. Only three braves showed up for Ganali, and they questioned Soquila with their eyes. He said he was keeping Waka to himself but he would share Ganali. His standing with the tribe for his generosity went up immeasurably.

Waka worked with Tala and Awi on the patterns for the shifts and footwear, and a simple pattern for a pouch. They explained that the cows had to keep up the diet or risk their milk drying up. The fenungreek was actually not too bad, and it sure as hell helped getting the thick warm concoction down. Bottom line was this was her meal ticket, so Waka made sure they each drank a flask with every meal.

Very few people learned of the true relationship between the three of them. Waka made sure that it was known the two cows had moved in with Soquila because he was such a talented trainer. He was respected by the other warriors, and outside the confines of the teepee no one knew that it was Waka controlling it all.

The strange transition happened the first night. Waka was exhausted from the long day, and when she lay down, Soquila curled on one side of her, with his head on her breast. Ganali curled on the other, facing the teepee wall. She scooted her bottom against Waka’s thigh and fell asleep.

Waka was confused. Soquila’s tongue began to softly lash at a nipple, and she felt herself flutter with arousal. She continued to stare at Ganali. Now that their restraints were gone, she had expected her to want to explore their relationship. Instead, Soquila was beginning to really make her squirm. She could tell she was wet, and it had nothing to do with any contact from Ganali.

Soquila sensed her body responding to him, and he looked up to check her reaction. She was looking at Ganali who was softly snoring, facing away from her, but touching and absorbing her warmth. He chuckled softly and leaned up, resting his head on his hand and gazing down at her. “You do not call all of the shots, Waka.”

Waka stroked her fingers through Ganali’s hair, and turned to look at Soquila. His black eyes were fixed on her face with a look of uncertainty, and more than a hint of lust. She felt her core squeeze at the thought of having him touch her again, and she whispered, “I don’t understand.”

Soquila ran a hand over her breasts, playing with her tight nipples. “Ganali is a dreamer. She has always been this way. Perhaps, her fantasies helped her life seem easier with Tokala. She looks at you the same as she looks at Awi and Tala. You are a protective mother for her; keeping her safe and warm.”

“She looks at me like a
mother
?” True, Jenny had been her only female relationship, but how could she have read Ganali’s signals so wrongly?

Soquila smiled. “Without you, it would be lonely for her in the pen. It is not such a sacrifice to bring her to my teepee.”

“It sure as hell doesn’t hurt your reputation, either,” Waka noted. She felt blindsided by the truth. “So, you knew you would have me to yourself, even though I want a woman?”

“I do not think you really want to share yourself with Ganali. I saw your enjoyment when I was inside you… I felt it. You would not be able to feel those things if you wanted only a woman. You are strong, and you want to lead.” Soquila looked at her lips, studying their soft fullness with a fingertip. He leaned down and kissed her.

Waka was shocked… at first. Then the warmth of his mouth, the light brushes of his tongue painting over her lips, coaxing them open; she found herself lost in the most intense kiss she had ever experienced. When their lips parted, he whispered, “I welcome your strength, Waka. I am proud to be your warrior, and we will share this journey.”

His lips brushed down her neck, traveling over the smooth fullness of her chest. A hand reached down, slipping between her thighs, spreading her labia until he found her slick folds. He was as timid and gentle as Jenny had been, and Waka managed to calm her need to control, while she closed her eyes and enjoyed his touch.

Soquila was different from any man she had known. He did not treat her as if she should feel lucky he would be satisfied with such a voluptuous woman, nor did he cower and let her make all the decisions. His exploration of her body felt as real as any lover’s touch, and she could tell he was deeply aroused by her.

Nervously, her hand stroked down his chest, below his hips, until she finally skimmed the length of his cock with her fingertips. He froze for a moment, until she curled her fingers around him. She had never taken the time to study a man, and her previous encounters had been brief and meant only to satisfy an immediate urge. His skin was soft and warm, stretched with his erection, and throbbing gently. With one fingertip, she circled the ridge under his crown, and then brushed over the surface. There was a dewdrop of liquid that she coated over his skin, slipping the pads of her fingers to spread it.