Teach Me Your Love Read online

  Teach Me Your Love

  Book Six of the Dream Catcher Series

  Rita Hestand

  Copyright© 2016 by Rita Hestand

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover Design by: Covers by Kay

  License Note

  This book, Teach Me Your Love is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be copied or reproduced in any manner without express written permission of the author. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy or copies. If you did not purchase this book or it was not purchased for your use, please go to Smashwords.com to purchase your personal copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Teach Me Your Love is a work of fiction. Though some of the cities and towns exist they are used in a fictitious manner for purposes of this work. All characters are works of fiction and any names or characteristics similar to any person past, present or future are coincidental.

  Books in this Series

  Beyond the Dream Catcher

  Just One Kiss

  Ask No Tomorrows

  A Promised Heart

  Be Free My Heart

  Teach Me Your Love

  My Captured Heart

  Finding Her

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Rita's Other Books

  Dedication:

  Sometimes love isn't where we expect it to be. It isn't with the person we thought it would be. Sometimes loves sneaks up on us and grabs us and never let's go. To all the dreamers who want to find true love, may you be blessed in your journey.

  God Bless

  Rita Hestand

  Late Spring 1861

  East of Tucson Arizona

  Chapter One

  As Red Elk edged toward the crowd, he heard all manner of commotion. He could smell the smoke, feel the heat. Something was definitely going on. Instead of being greeted by happy tribesmen, there was a loud commotion, and a big crowd gathering

  The hunt hadn't lasted long this morning and their catch was good. It was nearly noon and the sun heated up the desert lands of Arizona. The air was still, but the sky was blue, not a cloud in site.

  They had shot three deer and two turkeys, and three wild hogs, but before they could show them to the others, the noise interrupted. Someone was shouting.

  Red Elk was pleased with himself, but the commotion was such a distraction he couldn't celebrate. Dismounting his steed, he met his friend Big Hand who was coming toward him from the crowd. A maiden took his horse for him as he approached him.

  Big Hand was a larger than life Indian with long black hair, eyes that matched, he carried a ready smile, and a warm greeting for his friend.

  "Big Hand, what's going on?" Red Elk demanded.

  "The white captive she will not do as she's told so Bear Foot has placed her over the coals and she's howling like a wolf." Big Hand told him, as he headed for his wickiup. "You can't talk any sense into Bear Foot when he's in such a mood." He warned him. "You know how he gets about his women."

  "A white captive?" Red Elk frowned, then he went bursting through the crowd as though he had every right to do so. He moved much like a mountain lion, softly, so as not to disturb mother earth, but his gait was quick and agile. He could hear the woman yelling and spitting. She did have a fire in her mouth.

  "I will not do it!" She cried out.

  Bear Foot smiled as he swung her thin body over the coals once more. She screamed. "You monster!"

  "Cut her down," Red Elk cried out, sizing up the situation with one annoyed glance.

  "She refuses my wickiup. She will not serve me." Bear Foot yelled his belly shaking as he spoke.

  Bear Foot was another large Indian with a rather rotund figure, and a mean look about his face, and no understanding of white people. Still, when riled, Bear Foot could be hard to contend with and Red Elk knew it. His wives stood about with dismay, talking among themselves. Seeing Red Elk, he was not happy, he made a face, but he cut her down, so she fell just to the edge of the coals. Bear Foot laughed. The dust flew, nearly choking her. She scrambled on her knees.

  "You cannot keep her in line?" Red Elk chuckled, making a joke of it. He knew that humor sometimes could diffuse a serious situation, he'd rather keep this civil. Bear Foot wasn't a bad sort, he just had little patience, Red Elk mused.

  "She refuses to be my slave. I must kill her now. I paid two bear skins for her." Bear Foot announced. "She is pretty, and I might even consider making her my wife if she would mend her temper."

  "You have five wives now, Bear Foot, is that not enough for you? Shouldn't you leave some for the rest of us?" Red Elk again tried humor. The crowd was shaking their heads, and some were frowning, others laughing.

  "Yes, but she might do better as a wife than a slave. Otherwise I might as well kill her." Bear Foot's tone was lighter now, as though the situation had defused.

  "You cannot kill her, Bear Foot, it would bring trouble on our camp and you know it. Let's be reasonable."

  "Are you afraid of the white man, Red Elk?"

  "You know better than that, but we stand to do well if we become allies to the soldiers. We will have a warm winter because we have many blankets and skins to keep warm. Our food supply is ample, and we do not have to war with them. Peace has brought prosperity to our people, has it not?"

  Red Elk grunted and glanced at the girl again. Her hair was dark brown, long and curly on the ends and hung to her waist. She was thin, yet her body curved in all the right places. He could not see her face for the hair.

  "I do not care about treaties and being allies…nor blankets and skins to keep warm. My women warm my bed." He bellowed. "And if we run the whites away, we will have even less trouble."

  "I should think so, Bear Foot, you have plenty to keep you warm, but others here, are not as lucky as you, now are they? If you cannot control her, why would you want her as a wife? You cannot kill her! And you cannot wipe the white man out, there are too many." Red Elk glanced at the dirty white woman that lay at his feet. Despite the dust on her, her hair shone like a gem, like water at night it sparkled, and intrigued even Red Elk. "It would break our treaty to kill her. Let us think of other ways. We have many plans when this great war comes, we break the treaty, we will not succeed. You will give her to me, and I will teach her to obey. It is not good to break the white man's treaty, it would mean war. The days of war are over my friend. Now, the big war has already begun for the whites, and they will leave this land to fight each other. We will not cause trouble. I can make her slave for me."

  "How will you do it? By seducing her?" Bear Foot asked, his face screwed up in a frown. "She is a stubborn one. I do not believe she can be seduced."

  "There are other ways. Send her to my wickiup." Red Elk instructed and started to walk away.

  Bear Foot twisted his head. "You will
trade me one of yours." He yelled out.

  Red Elk turned to face him. "Of course." Red Elk nodded his shoulders slumping as he knew he would not come out as well as he planned. He glanced around, spotting Painted Dove, a young and beautiful Indian maiden, pushing her toward Bear Foot. Painted Dove had served him well, and it was a fair trade. She was pretty, and she would slave. He hated sending her away, as she provided well for him in his wickiup, but she had not been faithful, and he wanted her gone. He would tolerate many things from a woman but being unfaithful was not one of them. He had wanted a son from her, and she had not given him one. Since he had not bothered to take a wife, he expected his slaves to provide. But his slaves were from other tribes, not white. Painted Dove was a Comanche. She was the last of his slaves. Still, the white woman intrigued Red Elk. Perhaps there were other ways to obtain a son.

  Painted Dove looked at Red Elk with a sullen sulk on her face. "You will slave for Bear Foot now. Go and mind him well, so you will not shame me."

  Painted Dove bowed her head and nodded, sending him a sad face.

  "It is done then. I have looked upon Painted Dove many times, it is a good trade, I've seen she works well for you. It is fair, for me at least." Bear Foot nodded.

  "I would not trade otherwise." Red Elk smiled now. Two Indian maidens took the white woman and dumped her in Red Elk's wickiup, giving Red Elk a hateful glance.

  He heard the loud thump on the ground and smiled. Good they were not gentle with her. But what was she doing here in the first place? His tribe had not taken a white in a very long time now. This bothered Red Elk greatly as he did not want trouble from the soldiers. Nor did he want his people taking white captives. It could start a war. He knew he might be scouting for them in the future, so he wanted to stay in good standing with them. He planned to make good money during their big war. Money that would help his tribe prosper.

  Red Elk leaned toward Bear Foot and whispered. Bear Foot bellowed loudly. They spoke in their native tongue. Leaving him in a better mood. It was a good bargain, he decided.

  Red Elk waited a while then went inside his wickiup. He needed to give his white captive time to settle down. People with temper often did irrational things. The one thing Red Elk practiced was patience. It usually paid off for him.

  The woman lay in agony on the bare ground, close to the fire. She was thin but not malnourished. She had ample breasts and rounded hips from what he could tell. His eyes traveled her slowly, and with admiration. Her deerskin dress was ragged and dirty on her, but he saw beneath that. Her face was smudged with dirt and char from the firepit, but he couldn't take his eyes from that face. She had a dainty nose, big soft brown eyes, and a stubborn set chin. She was quite beautiful beneath all that dirt.

  Red Elk stared at her a moment. His hand itched to touch her hair, to see if it was real, but he refrained. It shone like silk, in a deep brown. His fingers itched to run his hand through it.

  "Get up off the ground, and sit by the fire," He instructed in English now. His voice was sultry, warm, almost inviting.

  The woman stirred, peeking out from her long hair to look at him. She stared.

  "Sit!" He instructed firmly.

  The woman maneuvered herself around until she could sit by the fire. Every move she made, had her wincing with pain. Her blistered feet must have ached as she kept rubbing at them. From her expression she was in much pain, but she did not say so. He liked the inner strength she used to conceal her true feelings. She was strong, she had courage, and a lot of pride, as she held her head up now despite the pain.

  She was proud, she was a woman of quality. If she looked down upon him, it wasn't just because he was breed, but because he was an Indian. This he understood.

  "Your feet need medicine."

  He moved away then came back to the fire, proceeding to put her feet in his lap as he sat straddling her. It was an intentional move, to show his power over her. She moved her skirt between her legs and sighed when he lifted her leg and brought her foot toward him, so he could apply the salve. Gently he rubbed the bear grease on her feet. His head was near hers, so near if she turned her head her lips would move upon his cheeks. But she did not move, he felt a slight tremble as he continued to put the salve on her wounds. He heard her low audible moan. Just from the mere touch of his hand she shrieked but did not cry out. She leaned her head back against his chest, her hair cascading over her shoulders in a dark cloud against him. Her hair was magnificent, like a beautiful stallion it shone.

  She was a miserable mess, but quite beautiful beneath it. Red Elk almost laughed, but again refrained. It would take time to break her spirit, he could see that in the cutting glances she gave him as he finally moved away. Perhaps he would not break her spirit as he favored a woman with some fire in her.

  "You speak English?" She asked as amazement lit her soft brown eyes.

  He hauled her on his lap and turned her face, so he could see into her expressive eyes.

  "Very well in fact." He smiled, as his hands held her small but delicate chin. "I have gone to the missions to learn and I have worked for the soldiers at Camp Tucson."

  She squirmed.

  "Then you aren't an enemy of the whites?" Her enthusiasm nearly warmed him.

  "Depends on which whites I suppose." He told her with amusement, his mouth quirking with a slight grin. He couldn't let her get too comfortable, not yet at least.

  "Then you'll take me to the nearest fort and leave me?" She asked with bravo.

  He chuckled, a melodious sound. He had a warm tinder to his voice that made people sit up and notice him. Did she think him daft? "Not hardly," there was a slight chuckle to his voice. "The nearest place to go is Camp Tucson but it is thirty miles and if they knew you were here it might break our treaty. I cannot do that."

  He had a pot of coffee brewing and she looked amazed again.

  "You drink coffee?" She blurted as she sniffed the aroma.

  He grinned. "A habit I picked up from your white friends at the Camp Tucson. It is hard to come by too… I found it keeps me awake better if I have a cup or two in the mornings. Would you like a cup?"

  "Yes, if you have enough." She looked eager now.

  He said nothing but got up and poured her a cup, as he helped himself. He stood watching her from a distance now. His gut tightened. Something about her intrigued him.

  "Do you work as a scout at this Camp Tucson you were telling me about?" She asked her eyes going over him with curiosity for he wore a breechcloth and long leggings like the others. He couldn't tell by her expression what she thought though, and he wanted to know.

  "At times, yes."

  When she didn't say anything, but stared, he offered her the coffee. She took the cup from his hands and drank it slowly. He could see the coffee pleased her.

  He looked at her, "What is your name?"

  "Naomi Wilson," she replied. "What is yours?"

  "Red Elk. Did Bear Foot capture you from a wagon train or something?" He asked as he poured himself another cup of coffee and watched her closely.

  She shook her head. "He traded for me in another village, a Comanche village."

  "Aw, Comanche?" Red Elk nodded his head going back as he nodded and thought about that. "That explains it. He went on a wild hunting trip into Comanche Territory. He often does that. The Comanche still take white women prisoners. To make slaves of them. So, Naomi, where are you from?" He asked her. "Where is your white family?"

  "My family is from Missouri, but I was captured in Texas on a farm. I was in the field at the time, my husband was in the house."

  At the word husband, his head reared. "Was he killed?"

  "I don't know, he was in the house, I was in the field." She told him.

  "Why?" He asked as his forehead wrinkled with alarm.

  "Why what?" She snapped.

  "Why were you in the field and he in the house. Was he not a man? He could not take care of his own field?"

  "Of course, he could. But he'd had an accide
nt and hurt his leg. The corn had to be picked, so I picked it." She explained, pushing her hair away from her face now, and straightening.

  "You do not know if he was killed." His expression held curiosity.

  "No. I heard gun shots, but I don't know if they survived or not."

  "They?" His brow went up in question. "You have children?" His voice filled with dismay.

  She made a slight face and turned away, "Uh… no. My husband… and his other—." She mumbled, letting her words drift off, as though she didn't want him to hear them. Her brow arched arrogantly as though she hated admitting this bit of news.

  Red Elk stared now, into her soft brown eyes. "Other what? "

  She bent her head, her face contorting into a look of pure frustration. "His other—wives."

  Red Elk stared now, his eyes going over her quite thoroughly. Wives? How could that be, he was white, wasn't he?

  "A white man has more than one wife? I have never heard of such…" His face was comical now as though she jested.

  She made a guffaw sound in her throat. "Neither had I until a year into my marriage." She chortled.

  "You speak in riddles. Explain… "

  She sighed with a sense of sarcasm. "When he brought them home from church and announced he'd married them."

  "How is it possible," he came nearer now, his eyes going over her, "for a white man to have three wives?" he asked, his expression skeptical. "I thought it unlawful, by the white man's law."

  "Could I have some more coffee." She asked, holding her cup out. "If I have to explain everything, I need something to wet my throat."

  "Of course," he poured her more. When she didn't elaborate on the wives, he changed the subject.

  "Where was this place?"

  "North of the Sweet Water community. in Texas."

  "That is far from here. How long ago?"

  "Seven or so months ago."

  "Then you were with the Comanche a long time?" He asked.

  "Long enough." Her voice held contempt he quickly noticed.