Tender savage (47 page)

accept the news that she was carrying Viper's child. For the time being, however, she knew that wasn't going to be her main concern.

"Can I stay with him? I'm certain I know more than any of the nurses here do." Erica took her father's hands as she stepped out of his arms. "Sarah has a close friend at whose home she can stay, but I want to be here when Mark wakes."

"Dorothea Dix has recruited the nurses for the army," Lars confided with an easy grin. "She refuses to accept women who are either pretty or young, so I know your presence will be appreciated by all the men here. Since Mark's condition is so grave, I will see you're given special permission to live in the nurses' quarters and tend hmi; as for Sarah—" he looked down at her then and was relieved to see she had begun to stir. Dropping his daughter's hands, he knelt down by her side.

"Are you feeling better. Miss Randall? I didn't mean to give you such a scare. If you're feeling up to it, I'll take you to see Mark. I know he'll be glad you're here."

Lars Hanson's deep blue eyes were level with hers, and again Sarah found herself thinking his looks and charm wonderfully appealing. Again appalled by a rush of emotion she considered highly inappropriate, she struggled to sit up. "I'm sorry to be so silly. It's just that my feother is very dear to me, and I can't bear to think how horribly he must be injured." She attempted to focus her gaze upon the seams in her kid gloves rather than the handsome blond doctor, but that effort proved totally unsuccessful and she again found her gaze drawn to the comforting warmth of his smile.

"You'll find him no less handsome," Lars assured her. Rising to his feet, he offered his hand. "He'll probably be sleeping, but I'll let you see him for a few minutes. Then I want you to get settled wherever it is you are staying. Tomorrow, when you're more rested, I'll arrange for a longer visit."

"You are very kind," Sarah whisj>ered shyly. She had never felt so inadequate with a man, but she feared a physician must think very little of a woman who would faint at such slight provocation. "I know Mark is in very good hands."

"Thank you, but unfortunately—" Lars gasped then as Erica jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. Realizing his daughter was warning him to keep still, he gave her an embarrassed smile and gestured for her to precede them as they left his office. "It's the second ward to the right. I put Mark next to the widow, since it's the most cheerful spot in the room."

Sarah gave Lars another shy smile, and gathering all her courage, she managed to walk to her brother's bedside without allowing the heartbreaking sight of the heavily bandaged young men occupying the ward's other beds to unnerve her. As Lairs had predicted, Mark was asleep, but other than the thick bandage that covered his crown and dipped down over his left eye, he appeared uninjured, and her heart swelled with hope. "He looks very good, doesn't he. Erica?" She leaned down to kiss Mark's cheek lightly, then gave his fingers a loving squeeze. Smiling happily, she turned to look up at Lars. "He's going to be all ri^t, isn't he?"

The fact that Sarah desperately wanted to hear him say yes was not lost on Lars, but he never lied to a patient's family, and he would not begin with her. "I have done all I can. Miss Randall. Mark's recovery is in God's hands now."

While Sarah seemed reassured by that noncommittal response, Erica wasn't fooled. She walked around to the other side of the bed. As her hand covered Mark's she felt for his pulse and silently counted its rhythm. He was young and strong, and those were invaluable assets in overcoming the effects of any injury. He was also an architect, with wonderful dreams for the future. If he were to recover his health, but not his sight, would he have a future he would think worth living? Fate had dealt her another cruel blow, but Erica clutched Mark's hand tightly, knowing that for as long as he needed her, she would have to stay. She had once promised to love Mark, no matter what awful thing happened to him during the war, and that was not a vow she would break now.

When news of President Lincoln's decision to spare all but thirty-nine of the condemned men reached the Sioux,

Viper could scarcely contain his joy. His first thought was that Erica would again be his and that at that very moment she must surely be on her way back to him. Like the other braves, the executions that finally took place on December 26 affected him deeply, but even the profound sorrow of that day did not dim the bright flame of hope that burned in his heart.

He spent the winter with his fellow prisoners in Mankato, each day expecting to receive a letter or to be told Erica had arrived to see him, but neither a letter nor Erica herself appeared to lighten the grim tedium of his days. Through Stephen Riggs's efforts the prison served as a school, and Viper found himself recruited to help the missionary teach those who could not do so how to read and write in their own language. To his surprise he discovered he had some talents as a teacher, and was soon drawn into the prayer meetings RiggsandDr. Williamson held. His only thought being to please the woman he still considered his wife, when more than three hundred prisoners were baptized he was among them. He had fought all his life against accepting the religion of the white man, but after having escaped the hangman's noose by so narrow a margin, he felt too great a kinship to Christ to continue to deny the truth of his teachings. While Erica had never once asked him to accept her religion, he hoped that his having done so would please her. The fact that he had still not heard from her both puzzled and pained him, however.

At the height of the uprising. Governor Ramsey had demanded that the Sioux be driven beyond the state borders. That cry was enthusiastically taken up by the citizens of Minnesota and continued when the hostilities were over. The settlers wanted to be rid not only of the Sioux, but also of the peace-loving Winnebago, who had taken no part in the uprising, but who occupied prime farm lands. In December, Minnesota Senator Morton S. Wilkinson and Ckjngressman William Windom introduced bills in Congress designed to relocate the Indians to agricultural lands beyond the border of any state. On February 21, 1863, the Winnebago Act became law, followed by the Sioux Act on March 5. It was decided both tribes would be relocated on land bordering the Missouri

River, in the Dakota Territory.

When navigation resumed upon the Mississippi River i in the spring of 1863, the prisoners at Mankato were i selected as the first ^oup to be escorted from the state of \ Minnesota. On April 22, they were chained in pairs, and under heavy guard to discourage reprisals from irate i citizens, they were taken aboard the steamboat Favorite, ' bound for Camp McClellan near Davenport, Iowa. There was a brief stop at Fort Snelling where the forty-eight men i acquitted of all charges were put ashore along with the nearly two dozen women who had served as cooks for the prisoners. They were to join the seventeen hundred Sioux, predominantly women and children, who had spent the winter there to await relocation with them.

As the Favorite pulled away from the docks. Viper caught sight of Song of the Wren. With an anxious glance she was searching the faces of the prisoners standing on deck, and when she saw him she began to smile and wave excitedly, but he turned his back on her. She was a pretty girl; perhaps one of the newly freed men would claim her, but Viper would not waste even so little as a wave of his hand on her himself. By some quirk of fate, he had been chained to Claw of the Badger, who easily recognized Wren and began to tease him. ^

"There is one of your women, and you will not even i look her way?" He waved then, but Wren seemed unimpressed and did not return the gesture.

Viper did not respond to the heavy-set man's question. Granted reprieves, their uneasy truce had held, but neither had any love for the other. It had been six months since Viper had said good-bye to Erica, and his only interest was in being with her again. Since she had not come to him, he was determined to go to her. Escape had been impossible in Mankato, but as he watched their guards stroll the decks of the Favorite, he began to devise a plan. Unfortunately, it would have to be a plan to which Badger would have to agree. Knowing the brave to be a scoundrel, however, he thought it very likely he would.

Viper chose dusk as the time for the escape. He waited until the Favorite was rounding the wide curve of the Mississippi above Camp McClellan, then whispered the last of his directions to his partner. Badger nodded,

understanding the importance of waiting until the guards : had walked past them to jump. They had taken a place at the port rail, carefully judged the distance to the water, and adopted the same expressions of bored nonchalance they had worn for months. Knowing each could rely on the other to show the courage needed to follow through on am attempted cscajje, on the count of ten they scrambled over the rail and plunged headlong into the river.

Badger's heavier weight pulled Viper down deeper than he had expected to go, but he did not struggle to swim to the surface until the steamboat had passed overhead. Then he matched his strokes to Badger's and swam up and toward the shore at an angle. When their heads appeared at the surface, shadows caused by the rapidly approaching night hid them both from the soldiers view. They could hear men shouting to each other, and one trooper fired, but having no target in view, his shot did not come anywhere near them. Treading water until the steamboat was far in the distance, the two prisoners swam awkwardly to shore and pulled themselves out laughing heartily at finally having outwitted the army.

His wagon parked by the river for the night, a flamboyant peddler by the name of Percival McBridge had witnessed the braves' escape. Picking up his rifle, he trained it on them as he walked their way. "Don't come any closer until we come to an understanding," he called out in a voice too cheerful to sound like a warning.

Their ankles chained together. Viper and Claw of the Badger were on their hands and knees. Water poured off them forming little rivulets in the mud that surrounded them, but despite their bedraggled appearance, neither looked defeated. They looked dangerous still, and while Percy admired their daring, he dicCi't get too close.

"Best wife I ever had was one of your people. She got disgusted with me, though, took our babies and went back home, but I've never forgotten her, and I always try to give a Sioux a helping hand whenever I can." He was in his late forties, and while the incident to which he referred had taken place some twenty years earlier, it was still one of his most vivid memories. He had had an inordinate fondness for the Sioux ever since.

Viper glanced toward Badger and saw in the evil light in

the man's eyes that he was thinking the same thing he was: they could rush the man, overpower him, and shoot him to death with his own rifle. Viper was smart enough to realize that would only set more people on their trail than there already were, and he discarded the idea immediately and sent Badger so threatening a glance that he discarded it, too. Sitting back on his heels, he raised his hands. "If you are a friend, you will be one of the few white men who is. Let us go. We mean you no harm."

While he was inclined to help them, Percy was curious about their plans. "Looks like you must be part of the braves the army is sending down to Camp McClellan. I can understand why you don't want to go to prison, but what are you gonna do now? You can't go tramping around chained together like that. Hell, anyone who sees an Indian is likely to shoot him. I'd say you are in bigger trouble than you were on that boat."

Badger tried to stand up, but Viper yanked him back down beside him. "We can get these chains off tonight. He is going his way, and I am going mine. All we ask is that you stand out of the way."

That was no request, however, but stated in so calm a tone that it carried the weight of an order. Impressed by the brave's show of confidence, Percy lowered his rifle, ^ stepped forward, and offered Viper his hand to help him* rise. "I think I've got a saw in my wagon that will take care of that chain. Spent some time in jail myself, and I don't mind helping you get away. Where are you headed?"

Viper did not reply. He and Badger followed the man, who was of a slender build and dressed in one of the fancy suits of clothes he had found enhanced his trade. Still keeping a watchful eye on the two braves, Percy searched his gear for a hack saw, and handed it to Vif)er. "I'll let you do me work." Badger put his foot against the wagon, and with a half dozen funous strokes. Viper cut through the lock that held his end of the chain.

Now free of his ties to his companion, Badger immediately began to back away. "You'll never find that white wife of yours. Come with me to the Dakotas instead. Little Crow will welcome us both."

While Viper had never told Badger his i>lans, he wasn't surprised the brave had guessed them. "I wish you good

luck, but I will not go with you."

"Hey waiti" Percy again reached into his wagon and this time pulled out a knife. "You'll need one weapon, at least. Take this. It's a gift."

When the peddler tossed him the knife, Badger regarded him with a befuddled frown. "Why are you helping me?"

"Told you. Can't forget that Sioux woman of mine. Now get going before the army comes looking for you."

As Badger took off at a run, going north where he would a^ain cross the river. Viper bent down to use the saw to free himself from the chain. When he had removed it, he carried both ruined locks and the length of chain back to the river and hurled them so far out into the water they would never be used on any man ever again. He then walked back to Percy's wagon and handed him the saw. "Thank you. Can you tell me how to reach Delaware?"

"Delaware? Jesus Christ, man, that is a hell of a long way from here. That where your wife is?" When Viper nodded, Percy whistled softly. "That will be some trip. With the war and all, it's been a while since I went back East. Tell you what, I'll get you headed in the right direction, at least. First thing we've got to do is cut your hair, then I'm sure I've got some clodies here that will fit you. Like I said, people won't be willing to help an Indian, but with those light eyes of yours, you just might be able to walk right by without being noticed. Did you ever think of that?"

With a slow smile. Viper admitted he had. "Yes, that is exactly what I planned to do." With Percy's help, by the time it had grown dark the Indian brave had been transformed into a charming young Frenchman who could travel where he wished without (kawing any glances save admiring ones. At dawn he and the friendly peddler set out for Delaware and the long-awaited reunion with his wife.

With Lars's constant attention and Erica's devoted care, Mark made slow but steady progress, but he did not recover sufficient strength to return home to Wilmington until late March. Erica had hidden her pregnancy by wearing long aprons at the hospital, but at five months, the ac3itional inches at her waistline were becoming increasingly difficult to disguise. She had tried to find the courage to confide the truth of her situation to her father, but each time they were alone her resolve had swiftly deserted her, leaving her feeling all the more lost and alone. Now that she was ready to go home, however, she knew she would have to confront the matter no matter how dreadful she feared his reaction would be.

She waited until Sarah had gone to summon the carriage, then lured her father to his office on the pretext of discussing Mark's condition one last time. Misreading the cause of her troubled expression, Lars reached out to take her hand. "I know this is a terrible burden for you, baby. I only wish that I could make the trip home with you, but it's simply impossible for me to get away now."

"I understand," Erica replied softly, then, knowing she could expect only a few minutes of his time since he had so many desperately ill patients to attend, she simply blurted out her news. "I'm pregnant. Daddy. The baby's due toward the end of July."

Dumbstruck by that astonishing announcement, Lars stared at his daughter a long moment before breaking into a delighted grin. "That's wonderful newsl Why didn't you tell me before now? Does Mark know? He's certainly done

as fine a job as you of keeping your secret, if he does."

Erica was equally amazed, for she had expected her father to regard her pregnancy as the worst of tragedies rather than as an event to be welcomed. Realizing he still didn't understand the truth, she swallowed hard, and tried to explain what the problem truly was. "No, I haven't told Mark. You see—"

Thrilled by the prospect of having a grandchild, Lars brushed aside what he mistook as the beginnings of a hesitant apology. "I understand. He was too weak for such excitement before this, but I think he can tolerate it now. Once you get home, you'll have both Mrs. Ferguson and Sarah to help you, but you'll have to be careful you don't become overtired caring for Mark. Let's go tell him about the baby right now. His attitude is remarkably good after what he's suffered, but the prospect of having his first child this summer will lift his spirits tremendously. I'm convinced attitude has been the deciding factor in a number of cases I've seen where two men have had similar injuries but only one has recovered his health. Hope does wonders for a wounded man, sweetheart, and Mark needs every bit of hope we can give him."

It hadn't once occurred to Erica that her father would think her child was Mark's but since she had married him the very day she had conceived the babe, the timing would lead anyone to assume her husband was the father. Anyone but Mark, that was. As her father continued to stress what a wonderful boost news of a child would be for her husband's morale. Erica tried to imagine what Mark's response would be. He was often conmsed, and terribly forgetful. He had headaches, which were at time so severe he could recall little of what had happened that day. Was it possible his memories of the first days of their marriage were so dim he would not know the child she carried could not possibly be his?

Tom by the agonizing question of whether to lie for Mark's sake, or to tell the truth for her own. Erica allowed her father's arguments to sway her. She would tell Mark only that she was pregnant; if he assumed himself to be the father of her child then she would let him believe he was. By the time the baby was bom in July, he would surely be far more healthy than he was now and all the more able to cope with the oruth if she had to reveal it. If, on the other

hand, he knew damn well diat he wasn't the baby's father, she knew he loved her too much to blame her or to treat her badly for having become pregnant with Viper's child.

"I'd rather wait to tell him when we can be alone, Daddy," Erica decided at last. "There are so many people here, such confusion. I think I should be alone with him when I give him the news."

While Lars was disappointed that he would not be able to see Mark's reaction, he understood his daughter's point of view. "Yes, confusion is a good term to describe this place, and Mark doesn't need any more of that. I keep hoping that when he gets home and gets settled in a comfortable routine, he won't have so many problems."

Erica tried to smile, but she knew while he didn't that Mark's problems might only be beginning. Sarah found them then, and with the shyness she had never completely overcome with the physician, she thanked Lars Hanson for all he had done for her brother and bid him a fond farewell.

When they stopped at an inn that night, Mark was greeted cordially by the jM^oprietor. He'd lost so much weight that his once handsomely tailored captain's uniform now hung on him like a scarecrow's baggy old dothes, but since he had obviously been wounded in the service of his country, he was accorded a hero's respect. He tired easily, and after the long carriage ride Erica considerately ordered supper to be served in their room. Equally ochausted, Saran also asked to have her meal in her room, and they parted for the night at the desk.

Once she had guided Mark up the stairs and into their room. Erica led him over to the bed. "Sit down and I'll take off your boots," she offered helpfully.

Mark sat down as ordered, but once Erica had removed his boots he reached out to grab hold of her. "Come here," he ordered playfully. All during the carriage ride, he had clung to her hand tightly, but now that they were alone he wanted closeness of another sort. "This is the first time we've been alone in months, and I want to enjoy it." Pulling her between his legs, he wrapped his arms around her waist, laid his head upon her bosom, and hugged her tightly.

Not having expected Mark to have such romantic thoughts. Erica hesitated a moment before encircling his neck with her arms. She brushed the top of his tawny curls with her lips and tried to find the words to tell him the

secret she had kept so well hidden. They would share a bed that night, and she knew if she didn't tell him now, he would undoubtedly discover it for himself later that evening. "Mark, there's something I must tell you," she began nervously, unconsciously clinging to him all the harder.

"Hmm, this is nice," Mark interrupted with a delighted hum. "I can hear your heart beating, thump, thump, thump."

Erica bit her lip to force back her tears. When Mark had grown well enough to talk, conversation had often proven difficult, for he could not pursue a subject from beginning to end without changing it often. "Mark, listen to me," she tried again, hoping to gain his full attention. "I'm going to have a baby. This summer, by the end of July, I Slink. Do you understand what I mean?"

"A baby?" Mark asked in an incredulous whisper. "We're going to have a baby?" He lightened his hold upon her momentarily, then hugged her with a fierce devotion. "I want a little girl, one who looks just like you. You'll tell me how pretty she is, won't you?"

Erica ran her fingers through his hair as she agreed. "Of course, Mark. I'll tell you all about the baby. Boy or girl, you'll be able to hold and cuddle it. You'll be able to tell what a sweet child it is for yourself." When he did not release her, she relaxed her pose and stood in his arms until a light knock at the door signaled the arrival of their supper. But as they shared the iaaiy meal, she grew increasingly depressed. Mark had been very anxious to leave the hospital. He tried so hard to care for himself, to be independent, but he was a mere shadow of the fine young man he had once been. While her love was no longer tinged with passion, it was no less deep, and it was all she could do not to weep each time she looked at him. To let him think her child was his for even a minute seemed like a terrible sin, and yet she could not deny how delighted he had been to think they would soon become parents. Yet wouldn't the joy he felt now make his disappointment all the more devastating when she finally had to admit the truth?

Unable to find the answer to her dilemma that satisfied both her desire to comfort Mark and her need to have a clear conscience, the troubled young woman ceased to torment herself with impossible questions. After supper

she helped her husband prepare for bed, hoping he would fall asleep before she joined him, but he reached for her die minute she climbed into the bed beside him. "Can you feel the baby move?" he asked in an excited whisper.

"Yes, he's an active litde tyke." Erica put his hand on her abdomen. "Wait just a minute, he's sure to give you a kick or two." Just as she had predicted, the baby soon began to stir, and with a satisfied laugh, Mark snuggled even closer.

"Now I can hold both of you," he murmured softly against her curls.

Erica held her breath, hoping he would have neither the stamina nor the inclination to want to make love. She knew she couldn't refuse him, but she remembered Viper's words too clearly: he would be the man in her arms, not Mark. How could she betray either of the men in her life so cruelly as that?

"I love you," Mark whispered sleepily.

"I love you, too," Erica replied sweetly. She put her hands over his, but she didn't begin to relax until she realized he would be content to fall asleep with her in his arms. Tears began to roll down her cheeks, leaving wet trails that tickled her ears. She did love Mark, and it hurt terribly to think how dependent upon her he had become. She was not yet eighteen years olo, but she thanked God she had the financial resources to allow her to care for an invalid husband, and the beautiful memories of love for a remarkable Indian brave who would be with her always.

Percy McBride found Viper's dashing good looks melted housewives' hearts faster than his line of sweet talk ever had. He made twice the sales he usually did on their swing through Illinois, and his luck held as they crossed Indiana. With so many men gone to fight in the war, many a lonely woman invited them in for a meal, but the Indian quickly excused himself if their hostess's intentions turned romantic, and Percy was doublv grateful for that. When they reached the Ohio-Pennsylvania border, the j| peddler gave Viper a fair share of his profits and saw he nad stylish clothes and a sound horse to ride for the rest of his journey. They were coming too close to the war for Percy's liking, but he wished the young man good luck in