Wild Ecstasy (31 page)

“Darling, I understand,” she murmured, leaning up on tiptoe, giving him a soft kiss on the lips. “It is only natural that you would be taken back in time, remembering another wife . . . another child. And I do not resent this, Echohawk. It only proves how devoted a husband you were. And how devoted a father you would have been to the child that was denied you.”

She eased into his arms and pressed her cheek against his smooth broad chest. “Let me help you, darling,” she whispered. “I am always here to help you.”

Guilt swam through Echohawk's consciousness, guilt for having brought this sadness to his No-din, when she had only moments ago given him the world.

He placed his arms around her waist and drew her closer, molding her naked body into his. “No-din, my No-din,” he whispered, then kissed her with a gentle passion and laid her back on the mats beside the fire.

With skillful hands and lips, and a body aroused anew, he showed her all over again how much he loved her.

Only her.

Chapter 31

—Swinburne

 

 

 

 

Outside, the wind whistled around the wigwam, the first snowfall of winter upon the Chippewa village, the creeks choked with ice. Mariah settled herself down next to Nee-kah beside the warm and inviting cook fire in Mariah's wigwam.

“Are they not the most handsome and healthy sons?” Mariah commented, turning her eyes to Night Hawk, hers and Echohawk's one-year-old son, and Nee-kah's son, Strong Branch, as they played with their miniature bows and arrows close beside them.

Mariah had watched Echohawk make their son's bow and arrows with their flint heads, wood shafts, and hawk feathers at the tails. He had used deer sinew to string the bow, but had explained that the skin from a snapping turtle's neck was the best bowstring because it wouldn't stretch or shrink, no matter the weather.

“Silver Wing would have been proud of his son,” Nee-kah said, busying her fingers making herself a new pair of moccasins with her prized metal sewing needle, the special gift that Mariah had brought to her from Saint Louis. “Strong Branch already walks with the stance of a chief, so tall and erect. He will one day make his people proud. He will lead them as nobly as his chieftain father.”

Her flaming red hair lustrously long again, hanging loosely across her shoulders instead of in two braids, as Nee-kah wore her raven-black hair, Mariah resumed her task of painting a new cradleboard for her second child, which was due in five months. “Strong Branch will be assuming the duties of chief before you know it,” Mariah said softly. “The years pass quickly.”

Nee-kah nodded and rested her needle and buckskin on her lap as she silently admired the colorful rainbow that Mariah was painting above where her child's head would rest on the cottonwood cradleboard.

“You paint well the ‘arch above the earth,'” Nee-kah then said. “You've learned well the beliefs of our people.”

Mariah smiled at Nee-kah. “Echohawk taught me the meaning of this design,” she said. “He explained to me that the Chippewa believe that if mothers decorate the cradleboards in this manner, their papooses will be watched over by the ‘Powers of the West.' I think that is such a lovely thought.”

A young maiden came into the wigwam, clutching a buckskin robe around her shoulders, the cheeks of her round face rosy from the bitter cold temperatures of the early afternoon. “A lone rider was seen on the horizon,” she said in warning. “He is a white pony soldier. Several braves rode out to meet him, to see what his mission is here at our village.”

Mariah's eyes widened as she laid her paintbrush aside. “He is white?” she said, rising to her feet, unsure how to feel about this bit of news. Since Colonel Snelling had left and a new commadant been assigned at Fort Snelling, communications between the soldiers and the Chippewa were rare.

Yet she could not help but feel anxious at the prospect of perhaps William Joseph or Colonel Snelling returning to the Minnesota wilderness to see her and Echohawk again.

They
had
been fast friends.

She regretted that she had given up her quest to see her true father, at least once before one of them died. Even if he was a cheat and a liar, she had decided long ago that she above all wanted to see him.

Mariah turned anxious eyes to Nee-kah, whose fear was evident in the way she sat so tense, looking guardedly back at Mariah. Mariah understood why. Not only did Nee-kah have the Sioux to blame for her losses, but also white men!

“In my husband's absence, while he has gone to check the traps in the forest, I shall go and see what business the soldier has at our village,” Mariah said, grabbing up a buffalo robe and swinging it around her shoulders. She went to Night Hawk and kissed his soft copper cheek, then left the wigwam with the young maiden who had brought her the news.

Just as she stepped outside, the soldier, dressed in full uniform, rode into the village, flanked on each side by braves armed with rifles. Mariah met their approach, walking toward them, her chin held proudly high. When the horses came to a stop and the soldier dismounted, the two braves quickly at his side, he smiled with recognition at Mariah.

“Mariah, it's good to see you again,” the young lieutenant said, snatching his hat from his head. “I hope you have been well?”

“I do not know your name,” Mariah said, offering a hand of friendship.

“Osborne. Lieutenant Dan Osborne. I served under Colonel Snelling,” Lieutenant Osborne said, shaking her hand eagerly. “I was in line to dance with you at the ball.” He laughed heartily, casting his eyes bashfully down to his boots. “But it seems you disappeared before I had a chance to ask for that dance.”

“Why are you here?” Mariah said, remembering the ball, her face coloring with a blush when recalling how clumsy she had been that night, trying to learn to dance.

Lieutenant Osborne clasped his hat behind him, his smile fading as he brought his eyes back up, meeting Mariah's. “Ma'am, we at Fort Snelling have received word that Colonel Snelling has passed away,” he said gently. “Colonel Snelling died in Washington on August 20.”

The news came as such a shock to Mariah, it was as though someone had thrown ice water on her face. She paled and her hand flew to her throat, stunned to the core by the news. “Colonel Snelling is dead?” she gasped. “How can that be? He was not an old man. And the last time I saw him, he . . . he was healthy.”

“Ma'am he was forty-six years of age,” Lieutenant Osborne said, his voice drawn. “His death was attributed to chronic diarrhea, and/or its remedy, opium.”

“You . . . you are so kind to take the trouble of coming to break the news to me and my husband,” Mariah murmured, her heart aching in her sadness.

“It was not I who made the decision to come,” Lieutenant Osborne said sheepishly. “William Joseph Snelling asked me to. He thought that perhaps you and Echohawk would like to know of Colonel Snelling's passing.”

Mariah's heart skipped a beat, her eyes widened. “William Joseph sent you?” she murmured. Her color began to return at the hope of perhaps seeing him again. “Is he at Fort Snelling now? Will he be there for long? Or will he be leaving, to return to Washington for his father's burial?”

“William Joseph isn't at Fort Snelling,” Lieutenant Osborne said softly. “He wired us the news. Ma'am, he hasn't been back to Fort Snelling since he left for Boston to become involved in politics.”

A keen disappointment swept through Mariah. She lowered her eyes. “I see,” she said, her voice breaking. Then she squared her shoulders and firmed her jaw. “Lieutenant, I thank you so much for coming to us to tell us of Colonel Snelling's passing,” she said, reaching out for a handshake again. “Perhaps you would like to stay the night? It's a long ride back to the fort. And the temperatures are just barely above freezing.”

Lieutenant Osborne looked uncomfortably from one brave to the other at his side, and smiled shakily at Mariah. “I appreciate your offer . . . your kindness,” he said, shaking her hand vigorously, then placing his hat back on his head. “But I think it's best if I get back to the fort to see to my duties.”

“You might want to at least have a bite to eat before leaving,” Mariah said, yet wanting to be left alone to her thoughts—to her own silent grieving. Her father never knew of this daughter who could have loved him oh, so much, had she been given the opportunity!

“I've brought along enough provisions for myself,” Lieutenant Osborne said, turning to swing himself quickly into his saddle. He tipped his hat to Mariah. “Sorry to be the one to bring you such sad tidings. Perhaps the next time we meet, it will be under more favorable circumstances.”

Mariah smiled weakly up at him. “Yes, perhaps,” she murmured, then waved as he gave her a last look over his shoulder and rode away at a gallop.

Unable to hold back the tears, Mariah let herself shed those for what had not been—for a father's love that had been denied her—and then she wiped her eyes clear of tears over one sadness, to be troubled by something else. She peered into the forest at the snow-laden limbs of the trees.

Echohawk.

Where is he? she worried to herself.

He had left early in the morning to check the rabbit and bird snares in the forest, but she knew that he should have been back by now. Yesterday they had received their first snowstorm of the season, but during the night the storm had ceased. At sunrise the cold had been extreme. The smaller twigs had been covered with a thick rime, and the atmosphere had held only minute glittering particles of snow.

That was when Echohawk had gone out into the forest, even though Mariah had feared for his safety. It had been a fretful night of wolves howling eerily. She had had nightmares of the rabid wolf that had come close to attacking Echohawk so long ago.

And also there was always the renegade Sioux White Wolf to worry about. Still no one had found him to make him pay for his wrongful deeds. And while he was still free, hating Echohawk as he did, Echohawk was not safe.

Her heart pounding out her fear, Mariah rushed back inside the wigwam, breathless with her need to go and search for Echohawk. “Nee-kah, can you watch Night Hawk for a while longer?” she asked, bending over her son, smoothing her hands through his coarse black hair, the child an exact replica of his father.

“Where are you going?” Nee-kah asked, rising slowly to her feet, panic filling her eyes. “You aren't leaving with the white pony soldier, are you? I thought I heard his horse leave already. And why was he here? I did not hear all that well what was being said. The children were laughing and carrying on so!”

“
Gah-ween
, no, I am not leaving with the pony soldier,” Mariah said, drawing on heavy fur mittens and strapping snowshoes on her feet. She stopped and turned sad eyes to Nee-kah. “The soldier brought word of Colonel Snelling's death. I am saddened terribly by the news, Nee-kah. But I am suddenly worried about someone else far more dear to me. Echohawk. I must go and find him. He has been gone for too long. I fear . . . I fear . . . something is wrong.”

“I did not know Colonel Snelling,” Nee-kah said softly. “But I hear he was a fine man.” She went to Mariah and placed a hand on her arm. “As for you leaving, No-din, I do not see it as wise. Echohawk will be home soon. Do not worry so!”

“I cannot sit here warmed by the fire, laughing and watching our children, while Echohawk might be out there somewhere alone and in danger,” Mariah said, grabbing up a rifle and slipping extra bullets into the pocket of her dress. She turned and walked toward the entrance flap. “I must go, Nee-kah. I must.”

After stepping outside, Mariah pulled her fur hood farther forward to protect her face from the bitter cold, then trudged through the snow to her toboggan, feeling that it might be needed, in case she found her husband injured and unable to ride on his horse. She placed the rifle in the toboggan, then with eager steps began dragging it through the snow.

Since very little fresh snow had fallen since Echohawk's departure, she found the tracks of his horse, leading farther and farther into the forest. The cold nipping at her nose, the forest quiet, Mariah moved steadily onward, the sled behind her. The longer she walked, the less she could find the tracks. The winds had become brisk, shaking snow from the trees onto the ground cover of snow beneath them, erasing the tracks.

Her heart pounding, her legs becoming weak in her weariness, Mariah began to think of how foolish this search might have been, after all. The ache of her back was a reminder of her pregnancy.

Should she lose this child . . .

She came to an instant halt when she heard gunfire echoing and ringing through the trees from a short distance away to her right.

Panic filled her when there was then a strange sort of charged silence.

She took her rifle from the toboggan. Then, leaving the toboggan behind, she began running through the forest, forgetting everything but her desperate need to see if Echohawk had been the one to fire the gun, and at what.

She paled and felt suddenly weak-kneed when a short distance away she saw Echohawk lying in the snow, a wolf stalking him, two lying dead close beside her husband.

Then she stifled a scream when she saw the blood on his arm, and his torn buffalo robe revealing a rip in his flesh. His wounds must have rendered him too helpless to reload and fire a third shot against the remaining wolf.

Mariah watched the wolf snarl and draw back when he turned his silver eyes to her. Trembling, she raised her rifle and fired one shot and downed the last surviving wolf. Dropping her rifle to the ground, she ran to Echohawk and lifted his head onto her lap, cradling him, as she rained kisses on his face.

“A healthy wolf does not stalk a human,” Echohawk said, leaning away from Mariah as he looked at the slain animals. “The wolf is brother to the Indian.”

He paused, then said, “It was not I the wolves hungered for, but the dead rabbit I had just taken from one of my snares.”

Echohawk reached his good arm to Mariah and circled it around her neck, drawing her lips to his mouth, and kissed her softly, then whispered against her mouth, “My No-din, again I am in your debt.”

Mariah looked down into his dark eyes. “
Ay-uh
, you are in my debt,” she murmured. “And your debt to me is to stay alive!”

Echohawk chuckled, then groaned as he tried to lift his injured arm.