Wild Ecstasy (29 page)

“There is no time for scalps,” Echohawk said, his voice drawn. “That time will be spent in taking you to your people. To your wife. Your Mide priest will perform magic over you. Your wounds will soon be healed!”

“Gah-ween,”
Chief Silver Wing said, blood now trickling in a stream from the corner of his mouth. “The Mide's magic will not be strong enough for this elder chief this time. The wound is a mortal one.” He struggled to get up. “Take me to Nee-kah. I will not let myself take that last breath until I can hold her in my arms again.”

“If only it were I lying there wounded,” Echohawk said, his voice filled with regret.

“You are young. You have a lifetime ahead of you. I have had a full, rich life.” Silver Wing paused, closed his eyes for a moment while taking some quick breaths, then looked up into Echohawk's eyes again. “And soon, Echohawk, a child will be born to Nee-kah.
M
y child. And . . .” He managed a peaceful smile. “And it
will
be a son, Echohawk. I know that to be so.”

“Ay-uh,”
Echohawk said, filled with remorse. It was as though he was holding his father in his arms, watching
his
life ebb away, all over again. In so short a time, two men of his heart had been robbed of him! What in life
was
fair?

He looked slowly around him, seeing that not one Sioux had lived through the fight, and his heart swelled with pride. Never again would this band of renegade Sioux be able to take loved ones from him!

His heart skipped a beat, a thought springing to his consciousness, making him groan with a frustrated anger. In the confusion and concern over Silver Wing's welfare, he had forgotten about White Wolf!

“He is not among the dead!” he whispered between gritted teeth. “He escaped. Even now I do not get my full vengeance!”

Turning his attention back to Silver Wing, Echohawk placed his arm gently beneath him and lifted him from the snow and carried him to his horse. Tears filled his eyes when he saw how Silver Wing found that last ounce of strength to hold himself upright in the saddle. He would enter his village one last time as the great proud chief of his people. They would see him as the noble man that he was.

Echohawk eased onto the horse behind Chief Silver Wing and placed an arm around him and held him in place before him. Leaving behind enough braves to tend to the wounded, the others followed humbly behind their two chiefs.

Chapter 29

—Ingelow

 

 

 

Mariah was cozy warm beside the fire, many pelts drawn up to her chin, but yet she could not sleep. She was feeling guilty for being safe and warm while Nee-kah was out there somewhere, perhaps dying in the snow, or at the hands of unmerciful abductors.

And Echohawk and Silver Wing!

Both were riding into the face of danger, perhaps instant death, should they find Nee-kah's captors.

Unable to bear just lying there, so troubled by her fears for those she loved, Mariah smoothed the blankets and pelts aside and moved to her knees before the fire, wishing that she were with Echohawk, riding as boldly as his braves at his side.

Then she placed a hand to her abdomen, knowing that now, as never before, it was best to behave responsibly. If she
were
with child, she had to protect it at all cost. And she tended to think of the child as a boy—Echohawk's son, the future leader of his people.

Her thoughts were catapulted back to the present when she heard the sound of an arriving horse outside, sounding as though it were nearer to Silver Wing's wigwam then Echohawk's. She grew tense when she heard people shouting Nee-kah's name.

“Nee-kah?” Mariah said, rising quickly to her feet. “Have they found her? Has Echohawk returned safely?”

Having not taken off her dress before lying down, Mariah scrambled into her knee-high moccasins and snatched up her fur cloak, then rushed toward the entrance flap. Once she was outside, she fled over the short distance dividing Echohawk's and Silver Wing's villages, and was soon torn with feelings. She was joyous over seeing Nee-kah just being helped from a horse by a brave, yet troubled over not seeing Echohawk with her.

So many worries flashed through her consciousness.

Had only one brave and Nee-kah survived an attack on the Sioux?

Was Echohawk even now lying in the snow, dead?

A sob lodged in her throat. Afraid to hear the answers, yet knowing that she must, Mariah tore from the wigwam and ran through the ankle-deep snow until she reached Nee-kah, who was being helped to her wigwam.

“Nee-kah, oh, thank God, Nee-kah,” Mariah said, clutching Nee-kah into her arms, giving her a fierce hug. “I was so worried about you.”

“I am fine,” Nee-kah said, smiling up at Mariah as she stepped away from her. “I am like you. Strong-willed and able to fend quite well for myself.”

“Echohawk?” Mariah asked, her pulse racing. “Where is Echohawk? Where is Silver Wing?”

Nee-kah's eyes wavered. “When I last saw them, they were well,” she said, then grabbed at her abdomen when another pain assaulted her. “But they now will be fighting the Sioux,” she breathed out between clenched teeth, her eyes closed. “I so fear for our Chippewa braves!”

Mariah was quickly alarmed when she recognized the pain that Nee-kah was in, and how sweat was pearling on her lovely copper brow, even though the temperature was way below freezing.

Though her every heartbeat belonged to Echohawk, Mariah was thrown into worries about her friend, knowing that even though Nee-kah had another full month before the time of her child's delivery, it had been as Mariah had earlier feared: the trauma forced upon Nee-kah could cause an early labor.

“Let me help you into your dwelling,” Mariah said, taking Nee-kah by an arm, slowly walking her to the entrance flap. “I can tell you're in pain. Nee-kah, it's the baby, isn't it?”

“Ay-uh,”
Nee-kah said, brushing the entrance flap aside, gingerly stepping inside, every footstep seemingly causing the pains to increase in intensity. “It is the baby.” She turned wild eyes to Mariah. “It is too early, No-din. Do you know any white-people secrets that can make the pains of child-birthing stop? I . . . I fear birthing my child early. If anything should happen to the child . . .”

Mariah helped Nee-kah to her sleeping platform beside the fire. She was aware of much commotion behind her, and out of the corners of her eyes saw many women coming into the wigwam, each carrying assorted items to be used during the birthing procedure.

She turned her full attention back to Nee-kah when Nee-kah grabbed at her stomach again and screamed, her color paling. “Let's get your cloak off, and then your dress,” Mariah said, trying to keep herself calm, though her heart was pounding with fear. She had never even seen a small baby before, much less helped bring one into the world.

But of course she saw that she was not needed at all. Nee-kah was soon surrounded by many women looking down at her adoringly. They had come to help. They had all the knowledge necessary to help Nee-kah deliver the baby.

After Mariah had Nee-kah undressed and a blanket drawn over her up to her armpits, she stepped aside and watched as the women began their ritual of assisting Nee-kah as her labor pains came more frequently, now scarcely seconds apart.

“Silver Wing,” Nee-kah cried, her eyes wild as one of the women slipped her hand up the birthing canal, trying to help the baby move through it. “My husband! Oh, Silver Wing! If you were only here!”

Nee-kah turned frightened eyes to the circle of women. “No-din!” she said, her voice quavering. “Where . . . is No-din?”

Two of the women stepped aside and made a space for Mariah at Nee-kah's side. Mariah smoothed her hand over Nee-kah's perspiration-laced brow. “What can I do?” she murmured. “I . . . I feel so helpless.”

“Just hold my hand,” Nee-kah said, circling her fingers around Mariah's hand. “Just . . . hold . . . my hand, sweet friend.”

“I wish I could do more,” Mariah said, holding tightly to Nee-kah's hand as Nee-kah squeezed her fingers into Mariah's, once again crying out with pain as she bore down.

“Surely it won't be long,” Mariah said, yet greatly fearing the early birth. “And, Nee-kah, just you wait and see. Your child will be healthy, like its mother and father.”

“It . . . is . . . coming!” Nee-kah cried, grunting as she bore down again, harder . . . harder. . . .

And soon the child was lying in the hands of one of the Chippewa maidens, proving its lungs were of adequate capacity with wails that reached far from the wigwam to the outside, into the early-morning air.

“It is a son!” Mariah said as the child was held high for all to see. She leaned down into Nee-kah's face, Nee-kah having momentarily fainted from the trauma of the delivery. “Nee-kah,” she whispered, brushing a kiss across Nee-kah's cheek. “You and Chief Silver Wing have a son!”

Mariah's joy was short-lived when Nee-kah did not awaken abruptly, but still lay in what seemed some sort of comatose state.

Her fingers trembling, Mariah placed them at the vein of Nee-kah's neck. Tears of relief flooded her eyes when she felt a very steady pulsebeat there. Nee-kah's eyes fluttered open and she looked around her, still stunned and confused.

When her gaze fell on the small bundle being held by one of the Chippewa women, her son now wrapped in a blanket, Nee-kah swallowed back a choking sob and held her arms out to the child.

“Let me see my baby,” she murmured, her voice weak.

Knowing the bond that had formed between Mariah and Nee-kah, the woman laid the child within Mariah's arms, then nodded toward Nee-kah.

Mariah felt a strange sort of melting at the pit of her stomach when she peered down at the tiny copper face, dark eyes shaded by thick black lashes blinking back at her. “So lovely,” she whispered, then laid the child in Nee-kah's arms. “Nee-kah, your son. He is so very,
very
lovely. And healthy. You have nothing to fear. He will grow up to be a great man.”

Nee-kah looked through tears at her son, then with one hand unfolded the blanket from around him. She gasped with delight. She smiled up at Mariah, then looked slowly around her at those who had ministered to her in her time of need.

“My son will be called Strong Branch until he has his special vision,” she said proudly. She looked adoringly back down at her child again, sighing. “Is he not a long, slim baby, as straight as a northern pine?”

“He is wonderful,” Mariah said, very gently touching the baby's tiny arm, then smoothing her fingers over his even tinier fingers. “And soon he will have a friend to play with. As soon as I—”

“You are with child?” Nee-kah asked, wonder in her eyes and voice.

“Perhaps,” Mariah said, blushing bashfully. “I hope so.”

Their moment of joyous beginnings was drawn abruptly to a halt at the sound of many horses stopping outside the wigwam. All eyes were locked on the entrance flap when it suddenly was drawn back and Echohawk came in, carrying Silver Wing.

Mariah rose quickly to her feet, her knees weakening when she caught sight of the blood on Silver Wing's clothes and the paleness of his face. And she also recognized the sound of death, for she would never forget hearing the death rattles only moments before her mother had died, and also Victor Temple's.

An instant dizziness gripped Nee-kah when she caught sight of her beloved husband as Echohawk carried Silver Wing toward her.

“No!” Nee-kah cried, fighting to stay alert as the trauma of seeing her wounded husband sent her heart into a tailspin of despair. She clung to her baby and tried to rise to a sitting position, but her weakness would not allow it. “My husband!” she cried, reaching a hand out to Silver Wing. “No! Tell me you are not injured badly!”

“Nee-kah?” Silver Wing said, his voice barely audible.

Echohawk took Silver Wing to Nee-kah and placed him beside her on the sleeping platform, then stepped back and stood beside Mariah, circling a comforting arm around her waist.

“My wife, I have come back to you to say a final good-bye,” Silver Wing said, his failing eyesight not having even seen the child, nor that Nee-kah was on the sleeping platform. “Take my hand. Let me feel the softness of your skin one last time.”

Fighting back tears, Nee-kah turned to him as best she could, but it was not her hand that she placed in her husband's hand.

It was the small hand of their son.

When Silver Wing became aware of the size of the hand, reaching his other hand to cover it, to feel the tiny fingers, tears began flooding his eyes. “The child,” he said, his voice breaking. “You . . . had . . . our child . . .”

“Ay-uh,”
Nee-kah murmured, leaning to kiss her husband's cold cheek. “And, my darling, it is a son. I have already named him. He is to be called Strong Branch. Can you not see? He is as straight as a northern pine!”

Silver Wing's hand roamed over his son, a look of bliss entering his eyes as he felt all of his son's features and his tiny body. When he found that part of him which told him that,
ay-uh
, he was a son, a deep rush of emotion filled him. “A son,” he said, smiling through tears at Nee-kah. “
Ay-uh
, a son. Strong Branch? That is a good name. It fits him well.”

Silver Wing felt a tightening in his lungs. “Take our son,” he said, fighting back the urge to cough. “And remember that I will always be with you, Nee-kah, even though I soon will enter the Land of the Hereafter.”

Nee-kah took Strong Branch back into her arms and wrapped him securely in the blanket, feeling as though a part of her was tearing away when Silver Wing turned his head from her and began coughing hard, blood now spewing from his mouth.

She sought deeply within herself for the courage to live through the next moments of her life, knowing that she would be saying a final good-bye to her dear, wonderful husband.

Oh, it was hard!

When he took his last breath, a part of her would be forever gone!

But she had to fight for the courage to want to live. She would live for their child. For Silver Wing, she must see that their son was raised to be a great leader, in his father's footsteps.

Silver Wing turned to his people, who had come into the wigwam. “Elders of my village, come and stand around me and hear my farewell words—listen to my last ruling as chief,” he said, his voice almost failing him. When they were positioned, somber and sad as they gazed down upon him, he continued:

“My infant son shall rule upon my death,” Silver Wing said. “I took a young wife for the bearing of a son who would be chief. Strong Branch is to be chief. But until he is of age, you who are the elders of this village must see that both villages, Echohawk's and ours, work together as one under the leadership of Chief Echohawk. If Echohawk will agree, he will become Strong Branch's father, to teach him everything about life.”

Satisfied, Silver Wing closed his eyes and coughed again, exhausted from the long speech.

Echohawk was touched almost speechless. He knelt beside Silver Wing and took one of his hands into his, squeezing it affectionately, yet cringing when he felt its cold limpness. “I am here to do whatever you ask of me,” he said, his voice drawn. “You so humble me, Silver Wing.”

“Take my child,” Silver Wing said, wheezing, now unable even to open his eyes. “Hold him to your heart. Acquaint yourself with him. From today forth, Echohawk, he walks in
your
shadow, not mine. Your children will become his brothers and sisters. They will be as one family within their hearts and souls.” He coughed, and exhaled a quavering breath. “The same as it has been for you and me.”

Echohawk swept the baby up into his arms. He unfolded the blanket and looked down at the tiny face, quickly taken by the child, as though he were his own.

He held the child up high, for all to see, chanting, then relinquished the child back to his father, laying him across his chest so that Silver Wing could be with his son until his last breath.