Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Cree hung up the phone. The last thing he expected as he stepped from the sweat lodge was a call from Player.
The wind slapped him in the face. Winter in South Dakota could be unpredictable.
Tapping the phone against his leg, he needed to wrap things up and get going.
Somewhere in Hill City was a scared girl.
A girl who knew nothing about the man about to darken her door.
Sometimes it took a monster to make bad men shit themselves.
As he stared across the open plains that made up the reservation, the mid-day sun set high in a cloudless sky.
He came there to represent his family, his people.
Had he accomplished that? Yes. Still, he felt disconnected from himself.
He needed that connection. It was like missing one’s shadow.
He felt something was missing deep within him, that one thing that made him whole.
His body was still recouping from the gruelling task of fasting before participating in the Sun Dance. He’d been tethered to the ceremonial pole by his wrist from a rawhide thong as he danced in the circle with other men most of the night.
Glancing at his wrist, it looked raw and angry, but so did the thin, black tattooed band that wrapped around his bicep. It was the newest in a row of ten lines. Each line represented a year he had participated in the sacred dance.
There were things he still wanted to do before leaving the reservation.
His father and grandfather had told him stories about the Lakota being one with nature.
How the land, sky, water, and the four-legged beasts were all still interconnected with the people.
Those words rang in his mind. They told Cree that everyone was respected in the web of life, and presiding over all was the spirits.
He had come there to connect with the spirits, and before he left the reservation, he would make his way to the Stronghold Table.
He didn’t care if the landowners allowed him or not.
Running a hand through his waist-length hair, Cree twisted the top section into a knot, keeping it out of his face.
Turning from the view, Cree pulled the flap back and re-entered the lodge.
Taking a seat in his vacated place in the circle, he announced he’d been called away.
He’d come to represent his family as the eldest living male.
If they wanted anything from him, the tribal elders needed to let him know right then.
When nothing but safe travels were given, he shoved to his feet and left.
Cree moved through the camp, heading to the tent he had been occupying for the past few months during the celebrations.
He chose to stay in a tent, wanting to be one with nature.
Slipping inside, he came up short at seeing one of the local women lying naked on his bed.
One hand was tucked behind her head while the other played with her pussy.
He was about to tell her to get out before she spread her tan legs wide, showing him her bare, glistening cunt with her fingers feverishly plunging in and out of it.
Rubbing a hand over his jaw, Cree closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The smell of pussy permeated his nose. His cock twitched as his head reminded him he had somewhere to be. Fuck it, he was dipping his wick. “This is gonna be hard and fast, iskwew.”
Pulling off his ceremonial loincloth, he moved to the small bed area and lowered himself over the woman. “Keep those fingers moving while I fuck you.” Grabbing her free hand, he pulled it from behind her head, stretching it above her.
Gripping the base of his dick, his fist tightened as he pumped up and down at a hard, unrelenting pace, his mind on the fingers fucking the sweet pussy he was about to ruin.
His cock hardened and pearl droplets began to drip from the head.
He’d been without a woman’s touch for a month, but his dry spell was about to end.
Widening her legs with his knee, he shoved his cock into her silky folds.
She hissed as his size stretched her already full pussy wider.
Her fingers stilled as he plunged deep into her.
“Get those fingers moving.” He growled. The feeling of her fingers gliding along his cock had Cree picking up the pace. “That’s it, do it faster.”
“It’s too much,” she whined as he pounded into her.
His hand tightened on her wrist, stretching her arm higher above her head. “You’ll fucking take it all.”
When the girl begged him to stop, Cree pulled out of her. Wrapping a hand around his cum-coated cock, he tightened his grip and pumped up and down as he told her to finish fingering herself.
Cree pumped harder as the girl bucked against her own fingers. When she tried to close her legs, Cree told her to keep them open. She started this fuck show, and now, she would let him watch her get off.
The sound of his orgasm bounced against the thick canvas walls as he shot his load between her legs and on her hands.
Ropes of cum landed on her stomach, all the way to her chin.
His breathing was ragged as his fingers dug into her trembling hand which he still held.
Looking at her face, he found her eyes staring at the mess he made of her.
Letting go of her hand, he pushed off the bed. Grabbing her discarded shirt, he wiped himself and tossed it at her. “Get dressed and go. Next time you lay in a man’s bed, he might not care what you want.” He watched as she dressed quickly and left his tent in a hurry.
Grabbing his clothes, he dressed and gathered his gear. When he stepped out of the tent, he half expected to see angry men waiting for him. There were none, which was good because he would hate to have to kick some chick’s father’s old ass.
Tossing his gear in his saddle bags, Cree straddled his Harley and settled in as he fired it up. One last look around and he shifted gears, heading for one last spot before he left for Hill City.
As he travelled through the reservation, he saw signs of religious worship. Prayer sticks, small bundles tied to branches, and even brightly coloured fabric hung in shrubs sporadically as he made his way through the Badlands, all signs of worship by the tribal members.
Stronghold Table was thought to be the site of the last Ghost Dance. It was a place for men to fast and pray, hoping to have a vision of their future. What he wouldn’t give for more time to continue his search for his connection to the earth, to find peace.
He could almost see and hear the ancestors as they travelled through the steep cliffs, canyons, ravines, and gullies which made up the area.
Slowing down, he watched the sun wash across the landscape.
The dark black and blue coal strata mixed with the bright clays of reds and orange scoria created a spectacular colour display.
Cree was awestruck every time he travelled through the area.
Deciding this was his time, he turned off the main road.
Travelling along a two-track lane worn into the landscape, he headed toward the Stronghold Table.
Hell with the landowners if they didn’t want him on their land. Let them try and stop him.
Standing on the Stronghold Table, Cree raised his arms out at his sides, embracing the warmth of the sun’s rays. Closing his eyes, he listened to the whispers of the soft winds coming off the cliffs. In his mind, echoes from his childhood had him moving his feet to the sound of distant chanting.
The dance and chanting were meant to reunite the living with the dead. The chanting faded into his memories, and he stopped moving. Dropping his arms, he felt almost settled.
The sound of talking broke the moment. Turning around, Cree saw a group of people with their cameras out. Tourists.
He could see it now—Indian warrior seen dancing at the Stronghold Table. Serves him right for trespassing.