Savage Spring (7 page)

February 1848

Taggart James leaned against the rail of the barge and stared down at the muddy water of the Missouri River without really seeing it. There was wild, unleashed fury in his heart, and he was driven almost past the point of reasoning by the need to punish Claudia and his Uncle Howard.

His deep violet-blue eyes were cold as he glanced at the shoreline, willing the barge to move faster so he could reach his destination. He sighed inwardly, knowing it would still be weeks before he reached Philadelphia.

Closing his eyes, he could still see Morning Song’s lovely face and hear the sound of her laughter. He clenched his fists together tightly, and with sheer willpower resisted the urge to slam them against the wooden railing.

Had it only been four months since Morning Song had died in his arms? It seemed like a lifetime ago, and yet the hurt was still so acute. Wild, jumbled thoughts tripped through his mind, and he wanted to strike out against anything to relieve his agony.

Sitting down on a wooden crate, Tag leaned his head against the railing, while his mind drifted back in time…

As the cold icy winds blew off the river, Tag remembered himself as a twelve-year-old boy standing at his mother’s gravesite, holding on to his sister’s hand and feeling lost and helpless. Later, he and Joanna were to learn that their father was also dead. That was when the trouble had all began. He and Joanna had been forced to flee their home in Philadelphia. How long ago that seemed now. So much had happened since then.

His eyes narrowed, and he glanced up at the sky as a
cloud drifted across the sun, throwing the land into darkened shadow. He would have his revenge on his Uncle Howard and Claudia. His lip curled into a sneer when he thought of Claudia. After Tag’s Aunt Margaret had died, his uncle had married Claudia Maxwell, who was a jealous, bitter woman. Tag never had understood why Claudia hated Joanna so bitterly and would do anything to hurt her. Claudia had tried on several occasions in the past to harm Joanna, but had miraculously failed. Tag thought of the time Claudia had helped Howard Landon capture Joanna, but fortunately Windhawk had rescued her.

Farley, the old trapper, stood in the shadows watching Tag. The young man and his sister, Joanna, were very dear to him. His heart was heavy that Tag had lost his lovely young wife. As Farley gazed upon Tag’s face, he saw the agony in his blue eyes. Tag was a tall man with broad shoulders and narrow hips. His body was muscled from the training as a warrior he had received from the Blackfoot. His face was handsome, except for the coldness in his eyes. He was still dressed in buckskin breeches and shirt—around his shoulder-length hair he still wore the leather headband about his forehead. He had a haunted look about him, and though he had the coloring of the white race, Farley knew that he had the training and the outlook of an Indian.

Farley had known Tag and Joanna since they had been traveling with the ill-fated wagon train that had been attacked by the Blackfoot. Although he was very close to them, he had never been told why Tag and his sister had fled their home in Philadelphia, but he had heard enough over the years to know it had something to do with their aunt and uncle.

The old trapper made sure the horses were securely tied to the barge railing before he moved over to sit down beside Tag on the wooden crate.

“It ’pears it might rain ’afore we reach shelter, but I don’t think so. I’m most often right ’bout the weather,” Farley said, looking overhead at the dark clouds.

Tag nodded his head as if he hadn’t really heard the old man.

Farley crossed his legs and let out a spew of tobacco juice, then wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “I figure we’ll be making Independence ’afore dark,” he said, trying to draw Tag out of his dark mood.

Tag lifted his eyes and studied the old trapper. No one knew for sure how old Farley was, though his beard and hair were completely white. He was a wiry man who seemed to amble instead of walk. Tag loved the old man as the grandfather he had never had. He knew that his sister must have asked Farley to accompany him to Philadelphia. Suddenly, Tag felt the urge to talk to someone, and he knew Farley was a good listener.

“Have you ever been in Philadelphia, Farley?” Tag asked in the Blackfoot language he had become so accustomed to.

“Nope, never had the urge. I ’spect you might ought to speak in English, Tag. The rest of them passengers is beginning to stare at us a bit,” Farley cautioned.

Tag nodded in agreement—the last thing in the world he wanted to do was to call attention to himself. “I remember very little about Philadelphia myself, Farley. I can recall my mother’s face very clearly, but my father’s face is a blank to me,” he said, lapsing into English.

“That’s only natural, since they’s been dead so long. I ’member Joanna once telling me that the two of you grew up in England.”

“Yes, my father had a large shipping business in England, and when I was quite young he relocated us to America. When he and my mother died, Joanna and I were both too young to run the company. My father’s sister, Margaret, and her husband came to live with us.”

Farley watched Tag’s eyes narrow, and he knew Tag was remembering more than he was saying. The old trapper had never been one to pry, but he felt that Tag needed to talk now.

“I always wondered why you and Joanna was traveling on that wagon train. You’ll recollect that was the first time I ever seed you and your sister.”

Tag smiled at the old man. “Yes, I remember quite well. I thought you were an awesome figure as you told us about being married to a Blackfoot woman and living among her people. Little did I know at that time that I, too, would live with the Blackfoot and be married to…” His voice trailed off, and Farley watched the naked pain in Tag’s eyes. Wanting to distract his troubled thoughts, Farley touched his arm.

“Tell me ’bout your aunt and uncle.”

The sadness in the depth of Tag’s blue eyes turned to cold hatred. “They…my aunt and uncle moved into our house and just took over. My Uncle Howard wanted to send me to sea when I was but twelve, and he told Joanna that if she didn’t cooperate with him, he would see that I never returned from the sea. You can imagine how Joanna reacted to that.”

Farley knew without being told that the uncle had made advances toward Joanna. He could well imagine what the two young people had been forced to deal with before they ran away. “That’s when the two of you left, was it?”

“Yes, with the help of our servants, Franny and Simon, we escaped one night through an upstairs bedroom window. Later we joined the wagon train, hoping to reach our father. We didn’t know at that time he was dead.”

“Ifen I’m hearing you right, you’re saying that your aunt and uncle just up and took all that by rights belongs to you and Joanna.”

“Yes, and for a long time I didn’t care if they had it all. I…was happy with Morning Song, and I knew that as my wife she would never be accepted by Philadelphia society. Rather than see her hurt…I was willing to live out my life in the Blackfoot village with her.” Tag’s eyes seemed to blaze with a blue fire. “Had my uncle but known, he could have had it all. I doubt that I would ever have challenged him. He made a fatal mistake when he sent those two men after me. Had they not killed Morning Song…” Tag raised his hands in a hopeless gesture.

“Wanna talk ’bout Morning Song?”

“Yes, I think I can now. We were riding that day, acting like two carefree children. When I was with Morning Song, I always felt this overwhelming happiness, and she made me feel good about life. We had everything we could ever want…I was almost content. To be honest with you, though, I had begun to feel restless, and Morning Song knew I was thinking about my uncle. She made me promise before she died that I would settle this thing once and for all. I think she knew I would never be completely happy until I confronted my uncle.”

“What happened that day, Tag?” Farley asked, knowing Tag had not told anyone, not even Joanna, much about how Morning Song had died.

“As I said, we were riding, and suddenly I heard a shot ring out. I turned to Morning Song to ask if she had heard the shot, and that was when I realized she had been hit. I lifted her into my arms, carrying her behind the cover of some rocks, where she gave birth to…my daughter…and then died in my arms.”

The agony Tag felt plainly showed in his eyes, and Farley placed a comforting arm on his shoulder. “Ifen you don’t want to, you don’t have to say no more, Tag.”

“No, it’s all right. I need to tell someone about what happened. Morning Song…” Tag swallowed convulsively before he could continue. “She…looked at me with those beautiful soft eyes…she knew she was dying. She…was bleeding a lot, and I couldn’t stop the blood!”

Tag stood up and leaned against the railing, and Farley rose to stand beside him. “She…said she loved me and asked me not to grieve for her…I held her as she died! Morning Song made me swear I would go back to Philadelphia.”

Farley could feel the tears in his eyes, and he wiped them away on the back of his hand. “What happened then, Tag? Was that when you killed that white devil?”

“I could hear two riders coming, so I waited for them to draw even with me. I had no weapon, except my knife. I heard them talking and realized that they were looking for
me. When they drew rein, they were no more than three horse lengths away from me, and I waited for my chance.”

Tag held up his hand, indicating he couldn’t talk about it anymore. “I killed one man, and Windhawk killed the other.” He lapsed into silence, as if he were reliving the scene in his mind. “It was Claudia who sent them after me, Farley. She will pay dearly for Morning Song’s death!”

Tag had hardly spoken above a whisper, and Farley knew that he was making a solemn promise to his dead wife.

“That vermin, Claudia,” Farley spat out. “I never knowed why your uncle got tangled up with the likes of her.”

“Neither do I, but apparently he married her after my aunt died,” Tag replied, remembering how much Joanna had suffered at Claudia’s hands in the past.

“Why do you ’spose your uncle sent those two men after you, Tag?”

“I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”

“What’s the plan?”

“I don’t have one, Farley. You remember Simon, my servant? He has been waiting for many years for me to return to Philadelphia, keeping an eye on my uncle’s movements. I suppose the first thing to do will be to contact him. He has been saving my mother’s jewels for me in case I need to sell them to fight my uncle and Claudia. Since Sun Woman gave me the gold, I won’t have to sell the jewels after all.”

Farley smiled when he looked into Tag’s face. “Sun Woman’s quite a person, but then, so is her son. I never knowed a finer man than Windhawk, be he white or Indian.”

“Yes, I agree.” Tag shook his head. “I know about the cave where the gold was found…Morning Song once told me about it.”

“You surely won’t have to worry ’bout selling your mother’s doodads; Windhawk gave me gold, too. I reckon he didn’t know his mother had the same idea,” the old man said.

Tag thought how like Windhawk it was, to secretly give Farley the gold, knowing it would help them when they reached
Philadelphia. It was because of Windhawk’s training that Tag feared no man. The Blackfoot chief had instilled confidence in Tag as a boy, and he knew he would need to call on that strength many times when he reached Philadelphia.

It was as if there were two people inside of Taggart James—one was an educated white man, the other was a Blackfoot warrior. Joanna had always insisted that he study his lessons, and Tag knew he would be able to function in the white world even though he hadn’t been there since he was a boy. There had been times in the past when he had lost patience with his sister when she had grilled him on how to act like a proper gentleman, but now he knew her training would place him in good stead. The other side of him—the Indian side—was that part of him where all semblance of “civilization” was stripped away, enabling him to live in the wild, untamed Blackfoot territory where a man’s strength and courage were his only chances of survival. A weak man or a coward could never live for very long in Blackfoot country.

“Are you aiming to just go marching up to your uncle and demand he get out of your house and turn the business over to you?” Farley wanted to know.

“No, I realize I cannot do that. If my uncle wanted me dead, he must feel very confident that he can get his hands on my father’s fortune. Chances are he had convinced some ne’er-do-well lawyer to help him in his takeover. I don’t want them to discover my presence just yet, so I will have to assume another identity until I feel out the situation. I doubt that either Claudia or my Uncle Howard would recognize me, since neither of them has seen me since I was twelve. Let us hope so, anyway.”

“That’s kinda what I thought. Don’t you fret none. I intend to stay right beside you in case of trouble,” the old trapper told him.

Tag smiled. “I know Joanna asked you to come with me. How did she ever convince you to return to the civilization you detest so much?”

“Twern’t hard. Your sister has always got what she wanted out of me. ’Sides, I wasn’t ’bout to let you go into this without a friend at your back.”

Tag stared down at the river, which was churning and turning beneath the barge. The first drops of rain had started to fall, and he pulled his jacket around his shoulders. “You are a good friend, Farley, but you sure as hell can’t predict the weather. You said that it wouldn’t rain until we reached shelter.”

The old man grinned, showing a surprising amount of white teeth. “Ifen I can’t tell the weather, at least I sure as hell am good looking.”

Tag chuckled. Talking with Farley had put him in a happier frame of mind. “I guess you and Windhawk have been the best friends anyone could ask for.” Tag was quiet for a moment before he continued. “I sure will miss Joanna, and I…know I will never forget Morning Song.”

“What ’bout the child, your daughter? You ain’t once mentioned her.”

“I…Joanna will take good care of her. It was Morning Song’s wish that I give…our daughter to Joanna.”