Wild Ecstasy (9 page)

“Then so be it,” Nee-kah said, nodding. “Now, let me continue teaching you our ways of doctoring our ill, other than that which is done by our medicine men.” She gestured with a hand over an assortment of herbs and roots that she had spread on the floor for Mariah to see. “These are collected from the forest. There are black root, bur-vine root, wild cherry, and dogwood, all dried and ready to use. And also you can make some boneset tea. You boil down walnut bark till it is pitchy. . . .”

Mariah listened eagerly, intrigued anew by the Chippewa beliefs.

* * *

Victor Temple drew his reins tight, urging his black stallion to stop. Groaning, he rubbed his lame leg. “Where is that damn Tanner McCloud?” he growled, looking over at his men, who had followed his lead and stopped. “He seems to have dropped off the face of the earth!”

“I'd begin lookin' for Mariah elsewhere,” Bart, one of his most devoted trappers, said. “Dammit, Victor, we've been everywhere lookin' for Tanner, when you're not even sure he's the one who abducted her.”

Another trapper edged close to Temple. “Did you ever think that it's just possible that she left on her own?” he said, nervously twisting and untwisting the end of his thick mustache. “That was a foolish thing to do, Victor—makin' her become a part of the Injun ambush. She cain't be havin' much respect for any of us after that, especially you, her pa.”

Victor raised a hand and slapped the trapper across the face, causing an instant hush throughout the cluster of men. “I didn't ask for your opinion,” he shouted. “So don't give it to me!”

“Victor, what say we go to Fort Snelling?” Bart suggested, having ignored Victor's angry outburst against the other trapper. “Let's just take a look-see. She might be there.”

Victor turned glaring eyes to Bart. “Are you sayin' you also think she ran away on her own?” he said, his teeth clenched.

“I ain't sayin' nothin' 'cept we can't rule out anything,” Bart said, his dark eyes daring Victor to lash out at him, ready to fight back. “If you want your daughter back, I'd say we'd best think of every angle. Wouldn't you agree, Victor?”

Victor's gaze dropped to the ground. He shook his head wearily, then nodded. “Yup, I guess so,” he said, looking back up at Bart. Then he doubled a fist into the air. “Let's ride, boys! And if she ain't there, we'll be goin' from Indian village to Indian village to find her.”

Another hush accompanied this order, everyone fearing even the sight of Indians now, after having wreaked havoc on one of their villages—leaving one Indian chief dead, the other one wounded, perhaps dead by now.

Victor flicked his reins and nudged the sides of his horse with his knees, sending it into a hard gallop across the straight stretch of meadow, his insides an upheaval of dread and fear.

Chapter 9

—Lovater

 

 

 

 

Fresh from a bath and a hair washing, Mariah felt lovely today. She was attired in a buckskin dress studded with beads resplendent in colors significant of the green earth and the blue sky, and a tunic with the most costly adornments of the milk teeth of the elk fastened in a row on front.

She had a spring in her step as she hurried toward Echohawk's wigwam. Nee-kah had just told her that when she last saw Echohawk, he had been more alert—had even attempted standing.

This change surprised Mariah. For days now she had sat with him while he slept most of the time. And when he was awake, they had not shared in conversation. Seemingly troubled, he had stayed aloof, staring blankly into the flames of the fire, yet occasionally accepting her gentle hand on his brow, as though her being there had been enough.

He hardly said a word to her, which she thought was fortunate for herself, since she was not ready to share in conversation with him. She knew that in time she would be faced with his questions, fearing that he would immediately discover who she was. She wanted this special time with him to develop a bond between them that he might find hard to break, no matter the color of her skin or her identity.

He had questioned her only that first time about who she was, after the Mide priest's performance. But it seemed that his memory of that moment had deserted him. It was as though he still thought that Nee-kah was with him most times.

Casting aside fears that today might be the day of discovery, Mariah lifted the entrance flap to his wigwam partway. But just before entering, she stopped and inhaled a nervous breath.

Courage.

She needed much courage to get past what could be awkward moments with Echohawk. His health had apparently improved.

Then what of his eyesight?

Wanting to get the wonder behind her, she stepped inside, stopped instantly, her heart lurching when she found herself looking into the barrel of a rifle.

Her eyes remained locked on the rifle, her knees feeling rubbery, thinking that she had not only been discovered, but was perhaps breathing her last breaths of life.

Surely Echohawk was not going to shoot her!

“Nee-kah?” Echohawk said, lowering the rifle to his side, swaying in his weakness as he settled back down onto his fur-covered platform. “I did not mean to frighten you with the rifle. When I discovered that my legs would hold me, I wanted to test the strength of my hands by holding a rifle. Soon I will be using the firearm in daily practice. I do not want to forget how!”

Her pulse racing, Mariah went weak with relief that he had meant no harm, and still did not realize who she was. She stepped further into the wigwam and moved to her knees beside Echohawk's platform.

“No, it is not Nee-kah,” she murmured, gazing into his dark eyes, realizing that they were still partially sightless, for as his eyes locked on her, she could tell that he was not truly seeing her. There was the same blank stare, the frustration evident in his slight frown.

“Then who is there?” Echohawk said, resting his rifle on his lap. “I have felt your presence before. Your name. What is your name?”

“Her name is No-din,” Nee-kah said, suddenly entering the wigwam. She came and knelt beside Mariah. “Echohawk, do you not recall the one other time I spoke her name to you? Are you not aware that she, too, sat at your bedside and bathed your feverish brow? She fed you and gave you herbal medicines?”

“I now recall another time, but until this moment it faded from my consciousness when my fever worsened,” Echohawk said glumly. “From then on, time and everything else have been a blur. Nee-kah, only
your
name came to mind when I felt a presence at my side.”

He reached a hand out to Mariah and began roaming his fingers slowly over her face, causing a melting sensation to spread at the pit of her stomach. “Until only moments ago I did not realize that her presence was different from yours,” he said. “There is something unusual about her, yet I do not know what.”

“Her skin coloring, her language, and her way of speaking are different,” Nee-kah said guardedly.

Echohawk drew his hand away, recoiling now at the thought of having touched a woman whose skin matched that of those he hated so much. “She is white?” he growled, circling a hand around his rifle again, clutching hard to it. “Why is she here? Who is she?”

The moment of warmth that had filled Mariah at the mere touch of his hand on her face changed to something cold and fearful knotting inside her abdomen. She eyed the rifle warily, then looked slowly up at Echohawk again, recoiling when she saw the intense hate in his eyes and the set of his jaw.

“She is a friend,” Nee-kah said, herself eyeing the rifle. “A special friend.”

“I have only one true friend whose skin is white,” Echohawk grumbled. “That is Colonel Josiah Snelling. Others I do not trust. I have reason for this mistrust. I am here today, partially blinded, because of evil people with white skins and black hearts! Now that my mind is cleared of its feverish haze and I can think clearly, I live for the time when I can torture and murder the man with the limp and the young boy who rode at his side!”

Mariah shivered and paled at his words, having never thought that his hate for her and her father could be this strong. Her first instincts were to flee, but deep down inside, where her desires were formed, she knew that she felt too much for Echohawk to leave him. Now she must work twice as hard to make him trust—even love—her before he realized that she was in truth the lad he sought to kill!

She would volunteer her services to him in all manner of endeavor.

She would be his eyes!

“Echohawk,” Nee-kah said, placing a gentle hand to his cheek. “Do not upset yourself so with such talk of vengeance. Your father was a man of peace. My father shares in such efforts. Please try to forget those who have wronged you. Live for the future. Your people's future. They have suffered too much already. Regain your strength, Echohawk. Use your wisdom and strength to better your people, not cause them more suffering by going into warring against the whites.”

“Not all whites,” Echohawk said, his voice a sneer. “Only those who have caused this heartache for my people. I soon will begin practicing with my weapons, to learn to fire accurately, even with my affliction. I will soon avenge my people!”

“A few white people's lives are not worth what it could bring your people,” Nee-kah warned. “Please, Echohawk, forget your need to avenge your people, when all they want now is to rebuild their village and begin their lives anew.”

Mariah had sat stiffly quiet, listening to the debate between Nee-kah and Echohawk, fearing offering her own thoughts on the subject, then finally spoke up. “Echohawk, I am sorry for any wrong that has been brought to your people because of people of my skin coloring,” she said, reaching her hand to touch one of his, recalling so blissfully those few times that she had held on to his hand while he had slept. Even then she had known that she loved him.

Yes, she marveled to herself:

She loved him!

With all of her heart and soul!

Echohawk jerked his hand away from hers as though it were a hot coal. Again he clutched onto his rifle, glaring at Mariah, still seeing her as only shadows and light. “You have not said why you are here,” he said flatly. His gaze went to Nee-kah. “And why did you allow it, Nee-kah? She does not belong! Why would you think that she did?”

“She belongs in our village now, as much as you or I,” Nee-kah defended. “She is a woman of much courage. She, alone, saved Wild Flower and Brown Bear. In the eyes of our people she is a heroine. It was I who brought her to our village. I found her alone, weakened after being thrown from her horse. And she has asked to stay until she is stronger, and also has offered to help care for you. I saw no harm in it. And she has been dutifully at your side since.”

Echohawk's mind was swirling with questions, finding it unacceptable that Nee-kah, or even her husband, would have so carelessly allowed a white woman into his wigwam, no matter if she was being called some sort of heroine.

Yet he was recalling the sweetness of Mariah's voice and the gentleness of her hands, all the while thinking they were Nee-kah's. He had not wanted to feel anything at the time, knowing that Nee-kah was married to Chief Silver Wing, but a bond had been formed, and now he knew that it was the white woman that he had begun to have special feelings for.

He turned his head away, distraught over this discovery.

“Echohawk,” Mariah said softly, “I want to do more for you now that you are stronger. Please allow it. I feel so ashamed of how your people have been treated by my people. I want to compensate, in some little way, for the harm that has befallen you. I would even like to stay at your side at all times and become your eyes until you can see. I could accompany you when you start practicing with your weapons. I could be your eyes, telling you when your aim was right or wrong. I could help you hone your skills by doing this.”

Deep down inside herself, Mariah was torn with loyalties. If she did help Echohawk hone his skills with his weapons, she had to expect that he would use those skills against her father.

Yet she understood why Echohawk wanted to kill him—was
driven
to.

And she felt that she owed Echohawk so much. He had lost almost everything because of her father.

Echohawk turned his eyes quickly back to her, squinting, so badly wanting to see her. When he had touched her face, he had felt its fine, delicate features, knowing that she was surely even more beautiful than Nee-kah.

“Echohawk needs no more of your assistance,” he said, his voice drawn. “Especially when I practice firing my weapons. That is a man's work. Not a woman's. Especially not a
white
woman's! Leave. That is what would make me happy. Go. Return to your home.”

He squared his shoulders and leaned closer to Mariah. “Your home,” he said, arching an eyebrow. “Where do you make your home?”

Mariah's insides tightened, fear grabbing at her heart. “I have no home,” she said quickly, in a sense telling the truth.

“Why is that?” Echohawk asked, again reaching a hand to her face, roaming his fingers over it. Then his hand went to her hair, gasping when he discovered its length. “Your hair! What has happened to your hair? Did you cut it while in mourning for a loved one?”

Mariah's heart was pounding, feeling trapped. If he would put two and two together, recalling the length of the hair of the lad that had partaken in the ambush, then he could conclude that the lad, in truth, was she!

Yet she had no choice but to tell him as much of the truth as she dared to.

“If you must know, I fled an evil father who forced many unfortunate things upon me,” she said. “He even cut my beautiful hair. That is why I have no home. I was fleeing his wrath. I was on my way to Fort Snelling to seek help. But I was stopped when my horse lost its footing in the creek and threw me. I was then at the mercy of whoever found me.” She smiled over at Nee-kah. “I was fortunate that it was Nee-kah, the sweet, kind person that she is.”

Echohawk peered sightlessly over at Nee-kah. “At a time when our people had just suffered so much at the hands of white people, you dared bring one into your village?” he said, his voice sharp. “And your chieftain husband? Did he approve?”

“
Gah-ween
, no, not entirely,” Nee-kah said weakly. “No-din was taken prisoner. She escaped. And while escaping, she discovered Brown Bear and Wild Flower at the river. They . . . they did not notice a water moccasin ready to bite. No-din, knowing that she would be forfeiting her escape by killing the snake, shot it. This is why all of our people see her as trustworthy. This is why she is being celebrated as a heroine. So must you, Echohawk, accept this as true. Mariah is very much a part of our village now.”

“Mariah?” Echohawk said, frowning over at Mariah, yet still not seeing her. “Your name is Mariah? You have called yourself No-din.”

“That is my Chippewa name,” Mariah said, gulping hard when she saw an instant look of horror on Echohawk's face.

“You have even been given a Chippewa name?” he gasped. His jaw tightened and he shook his head back and forth. “This I do not understand. Never shall I understand.”

“Echohawk, I wish you no harm,” Mariah pleaded. “I only wish to help right some of the wrongs done you. Please allow it.”

“
Gah-ween-wee-kah
, never,” he hissed. He gestured with a wave of a hand toward the entrance flap. “
Nah-quszly
, leave.
Ah-szhee-gawh
, now! I am soon to be taken to the resting place of my father and those of my people who are buried with him. I do not wish to have a white woman accompany me where she is not wanted.”

Stifling a sob behind her hand, Mariah rose and ran to the entrance flap, rushing outside. Blinded with tears, she went to her wigwam and threw herself on a pallet of furs close beside her firepit.

The fire was warm on her flesh, but her heart was cold and aching. She saw no chance at all of getting close to Echohawk, yet she was not going to give up this easily! She would stay at the village indefinitely. She would find a way to make him realize that she was a friend—even more than that. She had felt a bonding between them, that which could develop into something more, now especially since he had admitted to having felt a difference in hers and Nee-kah's presences when they had taken turns sitting with him.