Wild Ecstasy (19 page)

“Pardon me,” she said, laughing softly as she looked up at him, so glad that she did not find mockery in his eyes. “I . . . I have never danced before tonight. It is such an awkward thing to do!”

“You dance like an angel,” William Joseph said, firming his grip on her waist. He leaned his face closer to hers. “And may I say, my dear Mariah, you
look
like an angel.”

Not used to a man flirting with her, and wanting never to become enamored of a man again, she changed the direction of their conversation.

“Tell me about yourself, William Joseph,” she said, smiling up at him. “Your mother said that you are a restless soul, seeking adventure wherever you can find it. If I were a man, I would want to live the same sort of life.”

“My wild life has taken me too often from my family,” William Joseph said, glancing over at Abigail, who was busy chatting with several women as she stood at the refreshment table dipping punch into cups and glasses. “But of course my father is too busy to notice, and my mother has other children to take her mind off a wandering son.”

“Tell me about your adventures,” Mariah said, her heart crying out for Echohawk. Above the string quartet's music she could hear the singing and the thumping of the drums outside, where the Indians had gathered.

Oh, how she wanted to be there!

She wanted to be by Echohawk's side, sharing the powwow with him.

She forced herself to be attentive to William Joseph's tales about his adventures with the different Indian tribes while serving as an interpreter.

But when William Joseph spoke sadly of his marriage to a lovely Indian maiden, and how circumstances had torn them apart, that was all it took to break Mariah's composure.

Sobbing suddenly, she broke away from William Joseph and fled from the ballroom, out onto the terrace, then down several steps which led to a small flower garden behind the stately mansion.

She buried her face in her hands and cried a moment; then, when she heard anxious footsteps approaching, she dried her eyes with the backs of her hands and squared her shoulders, just as William Joseph appeared, his eyes troubled.

“Why did you run away?” he asked, peering down at her through the darkness. “Was it something I said?”

“It was my clumsiness,” Mariah said, forcing the lie across her lips. “I . . . I just couldn't stay there and continue making a fool of myself while all of the other women were dancing so smoothly. I am sure you understand.”

“The air is damp,” William Joseph said, reaching a hand toward her. “Come back inside with me. I promise I won't ask you to dance. I will get you some refreshment.”

Finding it impossible to return to the ballroom when her heart ached for Echohawk, Mariah shook her head. “No,” she murmured. “Please go back without me. I . . . I need a breath of fresh air.”

William Joseph removed his green velveteen coat and slipped it around her shoulders. “At least wear this so that you won't get a chill,” he said softly. “Stay awhile, then come back inside. I will serve you punch and cake.”

“That would be delightful,” Mariah said, snuggling into the coat. “I shall return shortly.”

William Joseph smiled warmly down at her, then began to walk away. As Mariah turned longingly toward the powwow grounds, she pulled up with a start and almost fainted when Echohawk was suddenly there blocking her path.

She composed herself and looked up at him, and thrilled through and through when she could tell by the way he looked at her that he still cared for her, regardless of what she'd done.

“You knew that I was here?” she said, her voice trembling with emotion.

“
Ay-uh
,” Echohawk said, his gaze taking in the gentleman's coat on her shoulders. He had watched William Joseph place it there, and jealousy plagued him. “I know this and much more.”

“What else?” Mariah dared to ask, her heart pounding.

“Your reason for having been among those who raided my village,” Echohawk said stiffly. “It was one more thing your evil father forced upon you. Chief Silver Wing told me your father's name and where he resides. He also told me that your father not only abuses his daughter but also is a liar and a cheat!”

Realizing that the secret was out—who her father was, and where he lived, and his part in the raid—Mariah paled. Although she no longer loved or respected her father, she did not want him to be killed.

And she did not want the man that she loved to be responsible for his death.

But she also knew that she had no control whatsoever over her father's destiny, nor over Echohawk's role in it.

“No-din,” Echohawk said, taking her hands in his, “I forgive you your part in the raid. I forgive you everything! I want you back. My heart has been lonely without you. Return with me to my dwelling. Be the ‘flower of my wigwam' again! You filled my heart with love and happiness. It can be that way again, if you will allow it.”

Hearing the sadness and pain in Echohawk's voice, and feeling so deeply for him, and feeling free to show her emotions to him, Mariah moved into his arms and hugged him tightly. “Echohawk, I'm so sorry about so many things,” she cried. “Oh, Echohawk, I love you so much. Let me show you how happy we can be!”

Echohawk's heart thundered wildly. “You will be mine again?” he asked, placing a finger to her chin, tilting her eyes up to his.

“
Ay-uh
,” she murmured. She smoothed her fingers over the lenses of his eyeglasses. “How is your eyesight? Has it improved at all?”

“Somewhat,” he said, then very intently brushed William Joseph's coat from her shoulders.

But as he leaned down to kiss her, footsteps approaching made him draw away from her and move quickly into the bushes to hide.

Mariah reached a hand out to him, to tell him that it was not necessary to hide from anyone. She was going to shout their love to the world! She was proud of him—proud to be his woman!

William Joseph rushed to Mariah and placed gentle hands on her bare shoulders. “Mariah, I've got some bad news to tell you,” he said, his voice drawn.

“What?” Mariah asked, a sudden fear grabbing at her insides. “What is it, William Joseph?”

“Your father's trading post has been burned and your father is missing,” he said in a rush of words.

Mariah stared up at William Joseph, stunned numb by the news. Then her gaze went to the bushes where Echohawk hid, her eyes locking with his before he turned and ran soundlessly from her, hidden from William Joseph by the black cloak of night.

Echohawk
, she whispered to herself.
Oh, God, no. Surely not Echohawk. . . .

But she would never forget how he had vowed revenge against those responsible for his people's sorrow.

All he had lacked was a name.

Chapter 19

—Rogers

 

 

 

“Mariah?” William Joseph said, clasping his fingers more tightly to her shoulders.

Her name being spoken wrenched Mariah out of her sad reverie, her grief over having perhaps lost with one blow both her father
and
the man that she loved. If Echohawk was responsible for this latest tragedy in her life, then what they had said only moments ago to one another meant nothing at all.

“I must go and see for myself what happened at my father's trading post,” Mariah said, wrenching herself free from William Joseph.

She gathered the skirt of her gown into her arms as she rushed away from him, determined not to think about Echohawk's likely role in what had happened. Her father had to be her prime interest now.

She had to find out if he was alive—or dead!

“Perhaps I might find tracks that could lead me to him,” she said over her shoulder as William Joseph came after her. “I won't let myself believe that he . . . that he is dead. I just won't.”

“You can't do that, Mariah,” William Joseph fused. “I'll go. I'll take care of things.”

“William Joseph, he is my father and I insist that I ride with you to see if there is anything that can be done to find him,” Mariah said, taking the steps up to the veranda two at a time.

“It won't be safe,” William Joseph said, hurrying ahead of her, opening the door for her.

She breezed into the ballroom, past gawking partygoers, and into the corridor, very aware now that Abigail had joined William Joseph, one on each side of her. “Abigail, tell your son that I am capable of riding with him to search for my father,” she said, giving William Joseph an annoyed glance. “I can ride a horse as well as you, William Joseph. And I can also handle a firearm just as well.”

“But, Mariah,” Abigail fussed, walking on into Mariah's bedroom with her as William Joseph paused and waited in the corridor, “you are so beautiful tonight in that gown. You can't seriously want to . . . to play the role of a man again. Let William Joseph take care of things. I assure you he is a most capable man. He can do anything he sets his mind to.”

Mariah turned and gave Abigail a stern stare. “So can I, Abigail,” she said flatly. “And so shall I tonight!”

“Oh, Mariah,” Abigail said, nervously clasping and unclasping her hands. “Please don't do this.”

Mariah was already out of her dress, petticoats, and fancy slippers. She went to the chifferobe, grabbed her buckskin dress from a hook, and hurried into it. Again her thoughts returned to Echohawk, the dress a reminder of the many hours spent with him.

She did not want to believe that Echohawk could come to her, professing his love for her, even forgiving her for her role in the raid, right after having taken vengeance against her very own father.

She could not see how he could be gentle and caring one moment, a vicious savage the next.

Even though Echohawk had many reasons to hate her father, she just couldn't envision him burning and killing at the very same moment he was planning to come to her to ask her to be his woman.

No.

It did not make sense.

But she had to be sure.

The buckskin dress turning her back into the woman that Echohawk had fallen in love with, Mariah slipped hurriedly into knee-high moccasins, ignoring heavy footsteps that entered the room.

“What is this that William Joseph told me?” Colonel Snelling said in a threatening growl.

Mariah turned with a start. Her eyes widened and her back stiffened when she saw the anger in Josiah's eyes. “I must go to my father's trading post and see for myself what has happened,” she murmured, feeling dwarfed as the colonel towered over her, a sternness in his flashing dark eyes that she had never seen before.

“I have assigned a unit of men to ride to the trading post,” Josiah said, his hand clasped to a saber at his side. “William Joseph will lead them. You will only be in their way, Mariah.” His gaze raked over her, seeing her change of clothes; then he glared at her again. “Change back into your gown. Return with Abigail to the ball. Let men do men's work.”

Firming her chin, insulted that Josiah would think that she could dismiss the welfare of her father so frivolously from her mind, Mariah placed her hands on her hips and glared up at him.

“I do not need reminders that I am not a man,” she said stubbornly. “And caring about what has happened to my father does not make me any less a lady. I am going to accompany your men, Colonel Snelling. If you still say that you will not allow it, I shall ride alone.”

Josiah kneaded his chin, slowly shaking his head back and forth, then placed his hand on her shoulder. “I can't have you riding anywhere alone beyond the walls of the fort,” he said glumly. “Not while those who are going around killing and burning are running loose close by. I'll tell William Joseph that you are riding with him and his men.” He leaned closer to Mariah's face. “But I'll also tell him to keep an eye on you. I don't care if you can ride and shoot like a man, I am not going to let anyone hurt you!”

Tears welled up in Mariah's eyes and she felt ashamed for having been so harsh with this man who was only looking out for her welfare. She crept into his arms, so wishing that her own father could have been as compassionate—as caring.

When his strong arms swung around her waist, holding her to him, she relished the moment, pretending he was her father—wishing it were so.

And then, realizing that time was passing quickly and that her father's life might be ebbing away as the clock ticked away each second, she eased from Josiah's arms and walked toward the door. When she found William Joseph outside waiting, having changed into buckskin riding attire, she walked proudly with him outside and mounted her horse beside his.

When Colonel Snelling and Abigail came to look at her, she was touched deeply when Josiah handed her a rifle.

“Ride with care,” he said as she took the rifle.

“Please be careful,” Abigail said, blowing Mariah a kiss as Mariah nodded and wheeled her horse around, riding beside William Joseph at the head of the group of soldiers.

“Please be careful!” Abigail said again, waving frantically at Mariah and William Joseph until they rode on through the opened gate that led out into the forest.

Abigail sobbed and turned to her husband. “I wish they had waited until morning,” she said, shivering as she looked into the dark depths of the forest, hearing the howl of a wolf and the hoot of an owl somewhere in the distance. “The killers could be just waiting outside the fort walls. It would be so easy . . . to . . . to ambush our loved ones.”

“Now, now,” Josiah comforted her, placing an arm around his wife's waist. “Let's not let our imagination run away with us.”

“So many tragedies have happened of late, Josiah,” Abigail said sullenly. “The attack on Echohawk's village. And now on Mariah's father's trading post. Her father is missing. What can happen next, Josiah? As long as those who are responsible are running around loose, how can I not be afraid for our son and for Mariah?”

“We must have faith in God that we will find those responsible soon,” Colonel Snelling said, sighing heavily. “Until then, darling, you must keep your faith.”

Abigail nodded, but found it hard at this moment to feel secure about anything.

* * *

Riding his horse hard through the night, Echohawk desperately needed to get back to Chief Silver Wing's village. Those white men who might point an accusing finger at Echohawk for the tragedy that had befallen No-din's father tonight would come searching for him, and once they were at Chief Silver Wing's village, might decide to punish all of the Indians there for good measure.

He could not allow that to happen. He had to warn Chief Silver Wing. He and his people, and Echohawk's must disband and take their village elsewhere.

Having won and lost Mariah again almost in the same breath tonight made a bitterness soar through him. It did not seem that he was meant ever to have a peaceful heart. If not one thing, it was another! And that his losses included Mariah over and over again made it almost too hard for him to bear.

It was up to him to clear his name before ever approaching No-din again. Even if she was with him, she would not be safe. If tragedy befell the Chippewa again, and if she were with him, performing in the capacity of wife, transformed, herself, into Chippewa, she could be counted among the dead....

The reflection of orange in the sky from outdoor fires made Echohawk realize that he was almost at Chief Silver Wing's village. His heart ached over having to tell the noble chief that he would no longer be safe in the village that he had established many moons ago—a village where corn grew in abundance and where wild rice was always there in the autumn, thriving, just for the Chippewa, it seemed.

When he advised Chief Silver Wing that he, Echohawk, had brought possible doom to Silver Wing's people, he did not want to think of the emotions the chief would be feeling. To survive an attack, they must move elsewhere, or stand and fight a fight that was not theirs and risk losing a whole generation of Chippewa children.

Had it not been for his own troubles, he despaired, Chief Silver Wing's people would continue to be safe—would continue to be content.

Echohawk rode into the village, his chin held high, yet his heart aching with an utter sadness and remorse for what lay ahead of him. After he helped uproot Chief Silver Wing's village, and also his own people, and saw them to safety, Echohawk and several braves would disband and travel alone, to search for the
real
culprits.

* * *

Lightning, a strange phenomenon for the month of November, was flashing in the sky overhead, illuminating everything around Mariah for seconds at a time, making her discoveries worse, even eerie, at what was left of her father's trading post—and what had been her childhood home.

Torn with how she should feel, Mariah stood beside the charred remains, recalling so many things, both happy and sad. Her happiest times had been when her mother had still been alive.

Her mother had been everything to her.

But since her mother's death Mariah had found it a hard struggle to live in the company of a father whose heart had seemingly turned to stone.

Except for her memories of her mother, there was no sorrow at viewing what was left of the trading post.

“There are no signs of your father anywhere,” William Joseph said, stepping gingerly to Mariah's side. “And there are no clear tracks leading anywhere. Whoever abducted your father was clever. They erased all tracks leading to and from the trading post.”

“Then you are certain that my father is not . . . is not among those ashes?” Mariah said, gesturing toward the smoking rubble.

“One of his men who survived the fire told of seeing your father being dragged toward a horse,” William Joseph said somberly.

Mariah turned quickly to him. “If there was a man alive to tell that, surely he saw who was to blame for everything else that happened here tonight,” she said, looking anxiously up into his dark eyes. “Or someone else. Surely there were others to ask.”

“They were apparently all slain while running from their bunkhouse,” William Joseph said, gesturing toward that burned-out structure. “Only one lived long enough to talk to those who discovered the massacre.”

“And? What else did he say?” Mariah asked, her voice rising in pitch. But she felt close to being able to know the truth about Echohawk.

Whether he was innocent or guilty.

“Before he had a chance to say who did it, he died,” William Joseph said, sighing heavily. “And so now we must return to Father and ask his advice. I'd say a search party must be formed. And soon.”

Disappointed that she had not been able to get a clear answer about Echohawk, Mariah nodded weakly, then walked limply to her horse and swung herself into the saddle.

Disconsolately she rode beside William Joseph back in the direction of the fort. Although she was concerned over her father's welfare, her thoughts kept wandering to Echohawk. Just prior to William Joseph's appearance in the garden to tell her the disturbing news about her father, she had made promises to Echohawk—promises that now meant nothing, it seemed. Echohawk had fled from her like a man guilty of a fiendish crime, and she had immediately accused him within her heart, as though she had no faith in him whatsoever.

How can one base a future on such weaknesses as that? she wondered sadly to herself.

The fact that she could think Echohawk guilty of the vicious deed lay heavy on her heart.

Dispirited, she rode with the others, yet felt no better even when they reached the fort and were once again in the company of Colonel Snelling, reporting their findings. Soon they would depart again and search for not only her father but also those responsible for his abduction or death.

* * *

The rain was splashing hard against the study window as Colonel Snelling paced his study, his hands clasped behind him. William Joseph and Mariah stood quietly by, watching him. Just as he turned and faced them again, they were interrupted.

“What is it?” Josiah said in a snarl, gazing without affection at Tanner McCloud as he stepped into the room, soaked to the skin, sending off an aroma similar to wet dog's fur. “I hope you have good reason for entering my study without first being announced.”

Tanner swallowed hard and shifted his feet nervously on the carpet as he came to a sudden stop beside Mariah. “I heard about Mariah's father,” he said, glancing guardedly at her, then back at Josiah. “I think I may have some valuable information you should be interested in hearing.”