Tender savage (39 page)

Erica was already out of the tent before Mark rose from his chair. "I'm very sorry, sir," he offered contritely, for while he had hoped his plan would not succeed, he had never imagined it would backfire so badly. "Erica has clearly been influenced unduly by the Sioux she knows, but she is a sensible young woman and should soon realize -how foolish she was to offend you."

"You're dismissed. Captain." Sibley returned Mark's salute, then offered another piece of advice. "I suggest you stay out of my way, too, until your release from my command can be arranged. Men who have nothing better to do than fight over women aren't wanted or needed here."

Stung by what he considered a totally undeserved rebuke, Mark turned on his heel and left. He was an

architect, not a soldier for Christ's sake, but he wasn't accustomed to being criticized for lacking character. He easily overtook Erica, but when they reached his tent, they found half a dozen women, some with small children by the hand, waiting for them.

A painfully thin woman who could have been anywhere from twenty-five to forty-five years of age spoke out as they approached. "Her kind ain't welcome herel We come to help her pack."

When Erica looked up at Mark, her eyes misty with unshed tears, he knew she was wondering what else could possibly go wrong. He took her hand firmly in his and Dulled her to his side. "By her 'kind,' I assume you mean a ady, and I will agree with you. Ladies are extremely scarce lere."

"She ain't no lady," a heavy-set woman in a faded print dress lashed out spitefully. "She's just some Indian's whore. She belongs over in the tepees, and if she don't have the sense to get over there on her own, then we'll take her."

"I am going to forgive you for those unfounded insults, since I know now much all of you have suffered of late," Mark replied with a disarming smile. "I suggest, however, that you start minding your own business and allow Miss Hanson to mind hers." To emphasize his point, he drew his Colt and used it to gesture. "Move along. If you insist upon making trouble here, I will end it here and now."

Aghast that he'd use a pistol to accompany that threat, the hostile group dispersed, but they continued to mumble insults, which could be clearly overheard until they had separated to return to their own tents. Mark then replaced his forty-five in his holster and again took Erica's arm. "That's just another example of what the good people of Minnesota think of your love affair, I'm afraid."

Erica was in no mood to discuss opinions that she considered insufferably ignorant, and hurried on into his tent. "If you have anything of value in here, I think you better move it," she suggested wisely. "The next time we are away they will probably bum your tent to the ground."

"You are the only thing of value here," the earnest captain replied quite sincerely. When Erica sat down on the cot where she had slept, he sat down opposite her on his own. "I think it might be a good idea for me to take you

280 .

back to New Ulm to stay until I can get orders to return to Delaware."

"No, that's impossible. I would be no happier there than they would be to have me. If I've got to leave here, then I will go on over to the Indian camp. I've met one of Viper's relatives, and there must be others who would take me in."

"I'll not have you living in a tepee!" Mark refused instantly. "Absolutely not."

"It's no different from a tent, Mark," Erica pointed out with a weary sigh. "At least among Indians, no one will call me a whore for being married to one."

"You're not married to that man, and you damn well know it," Mark insisted through clenched teeth. He saw the fiery light of defiance begin to glow brightly in Erica's eyes and was reminded he had promised himself he would share her burdens rather than add to them. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that when I know how much the man means to you. We'll do the best we can here until his trial, but you'll stay ri^ht here with me. I am closer to family than any of the Sioux can possibly be."

Since she knew that to be true. Erica had to agree. "Can you find me a book or two to read or some mending that needs to be done? I will be content to stay out of sight as much as I can, but I do need something useful to do."

Mark reached out to take her hand lightly in his. "If there's a book within five miles worth reading I'll find it. Why don't you try and rest. I doubt those busy bodies will have the nerve to come back to bother you today."

"I certainly hope not." Erica left her hand in Mark's just a moment, then had to remove it to cover a yawn. "Do you think I could attend the trials?"

Mark rose to his feet as he shook his head. "Not a chance. You'd never be able to keep still, and you would only make matters worse for the braves on trial."

"I suppose you're right, but you could go, couldn't you, and tell me what's happening?"

"Yes, I could go," Mark agreed hesitantly.

"Well, will you go?" Erica asked more insistently.

"Would it please you?"

"Yes, very much. I will die of curiosity if I don't find out what's happening soon."

"I'll go right now, then," Mark agreed with a good-natured chuckle, and before Erica could object, he leaned down and kissed her good-bye.

It did not take Viper long to discover that none of his close friends were among those being held to stand trial. To a man, they had fled for the Dakotas with Little Crow, and he was glad they had escaped what he knew would be far closer to a farce than to justice. He thought it significant that the first prisoner to be tried for the crime of participating in the uprising had not been a Sioux. Instead, it had been Joseph Godfrey, also known as Otakle, the mulatto son of a French-Canadian father and a black mother who had married a Sioux woman and lived at the Lower Agency. Godfrey had been condemned to death for murder, but his sentence had been commuted to a prison term after he had volunteered to provide evidence against the Sioux who had long regarded him as a brother. With his many years of schooling by missionaries. Viper was reminded immediately of Judas when he heard that story, for surely Joseph Godfrey would betray them all to the same gruesome tate that had awaited Jesus.

One face Viper did recognize among the prisoners was one he would rather not have seen: Claw of the Badger. Badger had his own life to worry about now, however, and did no more than raise an eyebrow when their glances met. Old grudges seemed unimportant to him now, since he had been one of the first sentenced to hang.

"Where's that pretty little wife of yours now. Viper?" he called out in a lazy drawl, but when Viper walked away without answering, he did not pursue him to find out. He did no more than shrug, and continued to worry about his own rapidly dimming prospects for the future.

The problem was. Viper could not stop thinking of Erica. Every minute of the day her lovely image filled his mind the way her slender body had once filled his arms. He missed her more terribly than he had thought possible. His whole body ached with a need for her that grew more intense by the hour, and he gave litde thought to his own predicament when he wanted so badly to be with her.

How was she sjjending her time? Did her heart cry out

for him as his did for her? Did she feel as lost and alone as he did? While it provided a momentary bit of comfort to envision her weeping for him. Viper could not bear to think of Erica suffering the same torments as he because of their separation. They had been parted too rudely, torn from each other's arms, and he could see no way they could ever recapture the joy they had lost.

His emotions in a constant state of turmoil, Viper resigned himself to a long wait for a trial he doubted would last more than five minutes. He planned to say nothing in his own defense. He would not beg men he despised for the gift of his life. How could he deny he had fought in the uprising when he had done his best to kill every man dressed in an army uniform he could find? It was unfortunate that one of them had not been Mark Randall, for he knew the officer would be spending his every spare moment with Erica, trying to win back her love. A hatred so consuming it tore at his soul came over him at that thought. The man didn't really love Erica, he couldn't, or he would have told her good-bye when he found her living so happily with the Indian whom destiny had chosen as her husband.

It was the stunning power of that thought that gave Viper strength. He knew fate had made Erica and him not only lovers but mates, and so compelling a force could not have been wasted on a man with no future to live. He had a future, he was positive he did. Yet when he tried to imagine what it would be, he found only a void past which his thoughts would not go. But he stubbornly refused to believe that what he saw in his mind's eye was the face of his own death.

Mark had expected the trials of the Sioux warriors to be a tedious ordeal he would have to force himself to attend occasionally to provide reports for Erica and then forget, but he soon found himself so fascinated by the proceedings that he went as often as time allowed. The fact that Joseph Godfrey had bargained for his own life by implicating others in actions which would result in death sentences revolted him completely, but the man's testimony was highly regarded by the members of the commission. While there were instances in which the pitifully few survivors of once thriving farms positively identified the braves who had murdered their loved ones, all too often Mark heard men condemned to death on evidence he considered too flimsy to merit mentioning. The fact that Little Crow and his staunchest supporters were not on trial struck the officer as a travesty also, for it seemed obvious to him that it should be the ringleaders of the uprising who ought to be on trial for their lives, not the braves who had followed them.

Unexpectedly, there were moments of humor during the trials, for some braves, while admitting they had taken part in battles against the army, swore their aim v; ~ too poor to cause any casualties. Others provided c._.illy unintentionally amusing excuses for not having taken part in the fighting, ranging from poor health to outright cowardice. It was clear to Mark throughout, however, that the Indians had little conception of the importance of the trials, and any who naively admitted to having anything whatsoever to do with the uprising were sentenced to hang

with unseemly haste.

In spite of his original opinion on the Sioux's guilt, the manner in which the trials were conducted and the haste of the verdicts ate away at Mark's conscience, leaving him deeply troubled. Before long, he began to believe as Erica did that the braves should be regarded as prisoners of war, unless it could be proven beyond any doubt that they had wantonly slaughtered innocent settlers. The members of the military commission obviously did not agree, however, and since theirs was not a court of law, and Mark was not an attorney who knew how to argue effectively even if it had been, he did not know what he could do to change things. Finally he decided the one thing he could do was to see Viper and offer what little advice he could about the trials.

When summoned to the tent the guards used as their command post, ViF>er regarded it as a welcome distraction from a day filled to overflowing with boredom, until he saw it was Mark Randall who had asked to see him. He turned away in disgust then, having no interest in speaking with the man, but Mark wouldn't allow him to refuse his visit.

"I'll hold a gun to your head if I must, but you're going to listen to what I have to say, if not for your own sake, then for Erica's," the captain called out loudly.

Viper halted in midstride, then turned back to face Mark, but his expression was still the hostile one the officer had looked upon so frequently. "Send her to me then, and I will talk with her."

Mark crossed the distance between them in two long strides, then took the precaution of lowering his voice to a persuasive whisper. "Can't you stop acting like a jackass long enough to realize I've come here to help you?"

Viper laughed derisively at that remark. "Why would you want to help me?"

"I'm damned if I know," Mark admitted quite frankly. "I just don't like the way the conmiission is running the trials. From what Erica tells me, you fought only against the army and never attacked any farms. Of course, you were at New Ulm, but from what she says that was only to get her. Is that right, or did you deliberately mislead her?"

Viper motioned for Mark to follow him as he moved farther away from the guards' tent so their remarks would

not be overheard. He saw no reason to admit anything to the officer and said so. "Perhaps this is a trick. If I say that I did this or that, then the commission may say I have admitted my guilt."

Mark took off his hat and slapped it against his thigh. "Christ, if you aren't the most oifficult man to get along with I've ever metl The commission did not send me to see you. Erica doesn't know I'm here, either. Hell, I don't even know why I'm trying to help you myself, but from what I've seen, you've no chance at all to get a fair shake, and that's just not right."

Vif)er studied Mark's expression closely, wondering if anything he said could possibly be true. Then he realized he could trust Erica's judgment and that she would never have agreed to marry a man who was not trustworthy. Still, Mark's motive sounded absurd to him, and he called him on it. "You think if I am dead. Erica will marry you. Isn't that what you really want, rather than a fair trial for me?"

Mark eyed the handsome brave with an appreciative glance, again impressed by his intelligence. He had never sfKjken with another Indian brave, but he was nevertheless convinced Viper was unique. He had certainly never met a white man who had the insight this Sioux continually displayed. "I want Erica to marry me, but not by default. If I had allowed you to escape on the way here, she would already be my wife. That was a bargain she tried to make with me several times. I refused."

"That's a liel" Viper responded instantly, disgusted to think he had been tempted, however briefly, to trust a white man.

"No, it's the honest to God truth," Mark stated calmly. "She begged me time and again to exchange your freedom for her promise of marriage. I said no, but that was when I thought you'd deserve whatever ptmishment the commission would mete out. I thought if they hanged you, so much the better. But now—"