Savage Splendor (Savage Lagonda 2) (16 page)

"Very good, Matio. Now she has the medallion. You were easy to control. When you wanted to give up, I urged you onward. Mara, you are a bit harder to control. You keep trying to resist. Now that you have the medallion, it will not be so difficult. You must not put it on until you are with me. It would be too dangerous. Keep it with you and I will help you find your way home."

Mara held the strange, mysterious object above her head. "What do you want of me?" she asked, thinking if anyone could hear her talking to the medallion, they would think her crazed.

She wondered what would happen if she were to slip it over her head. Raising it, she was in the process of putting it on when the chain became entangled in her hair and she cried out in pain. The more she tried to untangle it the more tangled it became. Tears of pain moistened her eyes, and with a final yank she dislodged it from her hair, but not without pulling several strands of golden hair out by the roots.

She saw a faint movement against the far wall. It appeared the same as before, a smoky mist without form. Her eyes widened as the mist formed itself into the shape of the old Indian.

"Who are you? What do you want of me?" she asked in a soft whisper.

"Do not again attempt to put the medallion on. Had you done as I asked you to and not taken it off, you would know who I am."

"W . . . what do you want with me?"

"Merely to show you the way home."

"I am frightened!"

"I know, but you have nothing to fear. You are seeking who you are."

"Who am I? If you know, please show me."

"Close your eyes, rest, come with me on a journey. A journey where you will find that which you seek."

Mara closed her eyes, soothed by the sound of the old man's voice. She was in total darkness, and she felt as if her body were being lifted into the air, but she knew that she had not moved, for she could feel the soft fur beneath her. Time had no meaning, and she felt neither hot nor cold. She felt only movement, as if her body were being transported to another place.

She was in a woods. It was snowing, and yet she walked barefoot through the snow without feeling cold.

There was some kind of tent just ahead, not the usual kind of Indian teepee, but a huge white tent. She ran toward it wanting to see what was on the inside. Pushing the flap aside, she entered. Her eyes searched the interior—searching for what? She saw a man lying on a white fur robe. It was he! The beautiful Indian! She moved closer to him, but he did not appear to see her.

"Can you tell me who I am?" she asked, but he did not answer. His dark eyes moved past her as if he did not see her.

"I know I am dreaming. That is why you cannot see me."

If he could not see her, she could venture closer. She could even touch him and he would not know it. Going down on her knees beside him, she touched his face shyly. He did not respond, and yet she could feel the warmth of his skin. Sliding her hand downward, she felt the mighty strength of his muscled chest, which was bare. He wore nothing but a white loincloth, and her eyes traveled over his chest to his flat stomach. She saw his long, powerful legs. Surely there had never been a man to match this one in power or handsomeness. Raising her head, she looked into eyes that were as black as the night, soft magnetic eyes that seemed to pull at her heart.

She drew in her breath when she saw that the dark eyes looked sad and misty. She felt such pain in her heart, and a tear formed at the corner of the dark orbs and rolled down his bronze cheek. He was sad, and it tore at her. She wanted to comfort him. With a trembling hand, she wiped a tear from his cheek, and found it felt wet to her fingertip.

"Why do you cry? Who has hurt you?" she whispered, feeling his heartache as if it were her own.

His dark eyes shifted and it seemed he was staring right at her. She drew in her breath thinking he had seen her at last.

"I wish ... I wish I could help ease your pain," she said tenderly.

He closed his eyes, and she resented the fact that he had not seen her at all. With shaking fingers, she touched his long ebony hair and found it to be soft. Her hand drifted down his face to his strong chin, then she tentatively touched his sensitive lips. Strong feelings of desire were fanned to life within her body as she lowered her head to kiss his warm lips. She hesitated at her own daring. Feeling his warm breath on her lips, she kissed him softly. There was no response, so she raised her head.

Opening his eyes he spoke for the first time: "Let me die. I feel such pain and hopelessness. I no longer want to live."

"No!" She screamed. "No! You must not say that! I do not want anything to happen to you." She could feel her body being pulled away from him, and she grabbed on to his arm, not wanting to leave him. "Do not take me back. Let me remain with him," she pleaded, but even as she spoke the mist was swirling about her, and she felt herself being transported into the night skies.

She struggled, trying to return to the Indian, but it was useless. She felt a pain rip through her body and she was falling, falling. There was another pain and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Suddenly the mist disappeared and she was back in her room in the loft. Nothing seemed real to her but the pain . . . and it was all too real! She placed her hand on her stomach and felt it contract. Just when she thought she could no longer stand the pain, it subsided. She was breathing in short gasps. Her body arched as the next pain caught her unaware, and she cried out. The child she did not want was fighting to be born.

Mara became aware that Jake was kneeling beside her. "Is the baby coming, princess?" he asked in a voice filled with fear.

Mara nodded, unable to speak. Jake ran to the ladder and called down to his brother. "Boil some water, the baby is coming!"

The hours that followed were like a living nightmare. Mara tried to be brave and not scream, but sometimes she could not stop herself. She was hardly aware that Jake was beside her, speaking to her soothingly.

Each time a pain would rip her body she became rigid. She squeezed her hand tightly into a fist and felt the medallion. She heard the old Indian's voice as plainly as if he were standing right beside her, but Jake did not seem to hear him at all.

"Do not fight against the child, it will be born with or without your help. It will go better for you if you give in," the old Indian said to her.

He was right, she thought. The child would be born and nothing she could do would stop it. When the next pain came, she allowed herself to bear down, with all her strength. When the first rays of sunlight covered the land, Mara heard the first cry of her baby.

12

In a world of whiteness, in a world of snow,

I seek that which evades me, that which I do not know.

She felt overpowering love for the tiny infant who had been born into the white world with no one to care for him but her. He would be scorned and ridiculed for the color of his skin, but when she looked at him she saw how beautiful he was. It did not matter to her now that she must have been brutally raped by one of the Indians Jake and Zeke had killed. This was her son, and she loved him. She knew at that moment she would protect him with her life, if need be. She felt no shame when she looked into the dark eyes, but only strong maternal love.

Zeke had joined his brother in the loft, and both men stared at the tiny infant, then they looked inquiringly at Mara. When she smiled at them, they both knew she had accepted the baby.

"He is a fine-looking boy, princess," Jake said seriously.

Zeke reached out his hand and touched the dark hair, amazed at how soft it felt. "I can't ever recollect seeing a newborn baby," he said in an awed voice. "He is a handsome boy, for sure."

Mara smiled at both of them through her tears. "I know that you are wondering if I will accept my son, since we all know what his father was. I want the both of you to know that I love him, and I will fight anyone who would ever want to hurt him."

Jake grinned broadly. "I reckon that makes three of us, don't it, Zeke?"

"Yep. Ain't no one ever going to hurt this little tyke, with ole Zeke around to watch over him."

"Thank you both so much, I love you for many things, but most of all I love you for loving my son."

Zeke became red-faced at her words, because he felt so deeply for the beautiful golden-haired girl who had come into his life. Unable to show how he felt, he changed the subject. "When he gets older, I will teach him to hunt and fish."

Jake stood up. "He is a mite too young now, Zeke. We best go below and let them both get some sleep." He turned to Mara and smiled. "Princess, you and the little one there has a home with me and Zeke for as long as you want it."

Mara smiled contentedly as both men disappeared down the ladder. Already she had started to nod off.

Jake eased his body down on his bed and stared at the loft where the princess lay. "She took it right well, about the baby being Injun."

"Yep, our princess has got a lot of grit. She don't let nothing throw her for very long. The baby sure were cute, weren't he, Jake?"

"What did you think he would be with a ma like the princess?"

"You think she will let me hold him sometime?"

"Sure. She is going to need a lot of care, until she gets over birthing the baby. You and me will have to help her," Jake told him covering a yawn.

"Jake, you go on to sleep, and I'll take the first watch. If the baby cries, I'll be up that ladder like a shot out of a gun."

"That's fine, Zeke. Now, will you let me get some sleep? I'm damned near tuckered out."

"Jake, it were nice to help bring a baby into the world, weren't it?"

"Yeh."

"It's kind of like we are his uncles, or something, ain't it?" But his brother did not answer. He had fallen asleep. Zeke put a pot of strong coffee in the hot coals of the fireplace, thinking he would drink several cups so he would be alert in case the baby woke up.

Matio awoke, feeling as though a heavy weight was pressing down on his chest. When he tried to sit up he was besieged by a fit of coughing. His head was aching, and he realized he was feverish. He found he was too weak to crawl out of the hollow log. Throughout the long day he had felt burning hot, and then shivered with the chills. He knew it was not a mild sickness, but the more serious lung sickness that could be fatal, if one did not get the proper help. He knew it would be bad for him, being out in the open as he was. He would have to find more warmth. He could not allow himself to die, he was the only one who knew where to find the queen.

After nightfall he managed to crawl out of the log and stumble toward the cabin. There was no moon and the snow was falling heavily, erasing his footprints. He had noticed the shed that stood in back of the cabin, and had decided on his previous visits that the shed was used for storage. Perhaps he would find what he needed there.

He staggered and fell many times before he reached the shed. It took him a few moments to discover how to open the door, which was held together by a leather strap that hooked over a wooden peg. When he unfastened it, the door swung open noisily. Matio stood silently, waiting to see if the noise had carried to the cabin. When no one came to investigate, he cautiously entered the darkened shed. Feeling around in the darkness he discovered many animal pelts that would be beneficial to him. There was dried meat hanging from a hook in the ceiling. If he took some of the meat, he could eat without having to hunt in his weakened condition.

Loaded down with fur pelts and dried meat, he started the long, slow progress back to his shelter in the hollowed-out log. Many times he fell to his knees in a fit of coughing, but he always pulled himself up by sheer strength of will.

Once he reached his shelter, he crawled inside and covered himself with the warm furs, using one of them to block the wind out. He had used up all his strength, and he soon fell into an exhausted sleep. His last conscious thought was of the queen. How would she ever reach the king, if he were to die?

Matio's fever raged on for many days. Much of the time he was delirious and could not remember where he was. He was too weak to take nourishment, other than the snow he used to ease his thirst.

While Mara had been recovering from the birth of her son, Zeke had made her a rocking chair, which she now sat in rocking the baby. There was a warm fire blazing in the fireplace, and she hummed softly and smiled lovingly down at Andrew. She had liked the name Andrew, and when Jake and Zeke voiced their approval, she decided it was a good choice.

Andrew was such a good baby, he was content to lie in his cradle and look about the room, waving his little arms aimlessly in the air.

Mara noticed Jake was punching holes in a bearskin and lacing a leather strap through it. "What are you making, Jake?" she asked.

He looked up and grinned at her. "It's sort of like what the Injuns carry their babies in. When we make the trek to the trading post for you to see the doctor, me and Zeke will take turns carrying little Andrew on our backs. He will be all warm and cozy, and you won't have to worry about him becoming too cold."

Jake and Zeke adored Andrew, almost to the point of being foolish over him. They were full of plans for him when he grew older. Sometimes she would see them standing over the cradle just watching Andrew sleep. She felt fortunate that they had come into her life. Mara knew if she never remembered who she was, it would not matter. She would be content to stay here forever. She did not delude herself about the kind of treatment Andrew would receive, should she ever return to civilization. But here with Jake and Zeke he would grow up knowing only love and a sense of belonging.

Lately the two brothers had been talking about giving up trapping, and settling down to clear the land and try farming. She knew they would never be happy as farmers, and she had no intentions of allowing them to give up the trapping they both loved on her and Andrew's account.

There was a loud rap on the door and Jake rushed across the room, took his rifle down from over the fireplace and aimed it at the door. He and Zeke had not wanted to upset Mara, but several weeks ago they had discovered footprints in the lean-to. There had been no doubt in their minds that the prints had been made by a pair of moccasins, and, judging by the size of the man's feet, he was tall, like the Indians Mara had been abducted by. Nothing had been stolen but a few pelts and some dried meat, but Jake did not trust the Indian's motives. It could be that he was waiting to find Mara alone so he could take her away with him. Jake doubted that there were more than the one man. But he could always call on reinforcements.

"Who's there?" Jake asked in a booming voice.

"It is I, Du Lac, you grizzly old trapper. Let me in before I freeze to death," a heavily French-accented voice called from the other side of the door.

Jake propped his gun against the wall and opened the door. "I thought the Indians might have scalped you, you crazy Frenchman," Jake said in a cool voice, that plainly told Mara he was not happy to see the man. She surmised it must be the Frenchman Zeke had told her about.

The Frenchman laughed. "Only the Indian maidens are interested in Du Lac's hair, no."

His eyes were drawn to the woman who sat by the fire, and he stared at her, first in astonishment, and then in open admiration. He could not ever remember having seen any female who was so beautiful. She now smiled at him. She was almost too lovely to be real. Her hair was a mass of riotous golden curls. Her face was perfect, her mouth enticing, and her eyes were a color of green that he had never before seen.

"Tell me, my friend, Jake. Am I dead and dreaming, or is that an angel I see?"

Jake closed the door and gave Mara a look of apology. "This here's the princess," Jake said as he stepped between Du Lac and Mara. "You ain't to try any of your pretty words on her, or me and Zeke will save the Indians the trouble of scalping you," Jake said, in a voice that plainly showed that he meant what he said.

"Ah, princess, since Jake will not introduce us, may I present myself. I am known as Du Lac, and I am your willing subject," he said, sweeping her an exaggerated bow.

"I am pleased to meet you Monsieur Du Lac," she answered, smiling at the charming French man.

"No, no, not monsieur, just Du Lac. What name do you answer to other than princess?" he asked.

Mara looked at Jake for help, she did not know how to explain herself to a stranger.

Just then Du Lac's eyes fell on the baby in her arms, and he, too, looked at Jake. He had seen the dark hair and skin and knew the baby was of the Indian race.

Jake's face turned red with anger. He was not at all pleased that the princess was being made to feel uncomfortable. "Are you planning to stay long?" Jake asked sourly.

"For the moment I am only passing through, but now that I have seen the princess, I will be returning." Du Lac answered arrogantly. He removed his jacket and tossed it carelessly on a nearby chair. Mara now saw that he was a handsome man, with sandy-colored hair and bright blue eyes. He was broad of shoulder, and Mara thought Zeke had been right, the ladies must surely love Du Lac, but to her he was no more than a friend of Jake and Zeke's. He in no way compared to the tall Indian she dreamed about, but then, no man could be expected to come up to her dream love.

"Has anyone ever told you of your loveliness, princess?" the Frenchman asked, with a twinkle in his eyes. He smiled, showing a mouth full of flashing white teeth, and Mara thought that he was out of place in the woods—he would fit every young girl's fantasy of a dashing pirate.

"I warn you, monsieur, I do not fall for pretty speeches. I have been warned about you by Zeke," she told him lightly.

"Oh, princess, you wound Du Lac. Now that I have seen you, I would never be satisfied with any other."

He turned to Jake. "I think I have lost my heart to this angel, this goddess."

"More than likely you will lose your head, if you do not watch your step," Jake said, bending over Mara and picking Andrew up in his arms.

"But what are you doing with an Indian baby? Do you have a particular liking for Indians?" Du Lac asked.

Mara stood up and raised her head proudly. She looked straight into his eyes without flinching. "Andrew is my son," she told him.

Jake cleared his throat as he saw shock register on Du Lac's face. He handed the baby to Mara and motioned for the Frenchman to follow him outside. "Come with me and we will stow your gear in the lean-to," he said, walking toward the door, leaving Du Lac no choice but to follow him.

When both men left, Mara hugged Andrew tightly. She had just received a small sampling of what Andrew would have to contend with in the white world. Her heart was heavy for her son's sake. She loved him so much and could not bear to think what the future held for him.

When Jake felt he and Du Lac were far enough away from the cabin so they could not be overheard, he spun Du Lac around and glared at him. "I am giving you fair warning, Frenchman, you had better keep your hands off the princess. And I don't want you making anything about the baby, either. She has suffered a great deal, and I won't have the likes of you hurting her more."

"Jake, I did not know about the baby being hers. I still do not know what happened to her. Perhaps you would explain it to me."

Jake grabbed Du Lac by the shirtfront, and drew him closer. "It ain't none of your affair. All you need to know is that I would kill you if you was to touch her."

Du Lac tried to loosen Jake's grip, but was unsuccessful. "I do not believe you like me, Jake, and I know you do not trust me."

"I don't trust you the least bit, and I like you even less."

"But why? I have never done anything to you."

"Let's just say I have a gut feeling about you and let it go at that."