Wild Innocence (16 page)

“No thanks to you and your friends!” she spat back.

He frowned. “I will talk with Rain-from-Sky. He should have been gentle with you.”

For some reason, his words seemed only to incense her more. “I'm no weak female to be coddled!” she cried. Then she blushed, perhaps remembering how she'd fallen only seconds before.

He stifled a smile. How was he to calm her anger and gain her cooperation so he could successfully protect her?

Black Hawk gazed at her with regret in his dark eyes. “I am sorry that my friends have hurt you.”

Rachel humphed. “You should be.”

“How can I make things better?” he asked.

“You can tell me why I've been kidnapped!”

“We did not kidnap you.”

“I didn't come willingly!” she exclaimed. “What else would you call it?”

Disheveled, she looked beautiful, Black Hawk thought. Her green eyes glittered with anger. Her lovely chestnut-brown hair was tousled, and her pink lips were a temptation to any man. Studying her sweet mouth, he felt a tightening beneath his breechclout.

“You have come for protection.”

“From whom!” Rachel cried, disturbed by the look in his eyes. “The only one I seem to need protection from at this moment is
you!”
She was startled to see a hurt look enter his expression. She softened her voice. “Don't you realize that you've worried my father?”

“John Dempsey knows you are here.”

“What?”
Had she heard him correctly? Rachel felt a gut-wrenching dread in the pit of her stomach. “And my sister?”

He nodded, and she closed her eyes in an effort to hide the hurt.

“Why?” she whispered.

“Clouds-at-Morning,” he said.

Her family was worried about the Sioux brave, Rachel realized. If they had wanted her to go to Black Hawk's village, why hadn't they just asked her? She glared at him, believing that he had convinced her father to remain silent.

“They did not think you would come,” Black Hawk said as if he'd read her thoughts.

Rachel tried to consider it reasonably. “I don't know if I would have come willingly or not.” She narrowed her gaze. “I was never given the chance.”

Emotion flickered in his dark eyes and was gone. He gestured toward a woven mat on the dirt floor.
“Nama-dabi,”
he said. “Please sit.”

She regarded him warily. She had just begun to trust him when he'd done this awful deed in conjunction with her family. Why did Black Hawk's betrayal hurt more?

She thought about refusing to sit, but then she realized that her refusal would seem childish. Black Hawk had asked nicely. Wasn't that what she'd been complaining about—that no one had thought to ask her?

Rachel did as the brave requested and sat down on the mat, arranging her skirts carefully about her knees. She saw Black Hawk's approving look as she did, and felt a niggling of reluctant pleasure that she'd pleased him.

This is ridiculous!
she thought.
This man had me kidnapped! Why should I care whether or not he is happy with me?

“I want to go home,” she said.

He peered at her from beneath lowered lashes. “You cannot. You must stay here until the danger from the Sioux is past.”

“Who says I'm in danger?” Her tone was defiant. “Clouds-at-Morning treated me only with kindness.
He
let me go!”

She saw a muscle twitch along Black Hawk's jaw. “The Sioux are dangerous. If the warrior comes for you again, he will not let you go. If you do not agree to marry him, he will make you his prisoner.” He paused. “His slave.”

Rachel shook her head. “No, he wouldn't,” she whispered.

Black Hawk's expression hardened. “I know the way of the Sioux. They tortured and killed my father. They have killed many of my people. They will not be kind to you.”

She shivered at his words, but did not want him to see her fear. “You're just saying that because you want me to stay.”

“It is true that I want you to stay. It is for your safety that we have brought you to our village. Here you will be treated kindly. You will stay with Spring Blossom, my sister. She will feed you and care for your needs.”

“You want me to stay with your sister?” she asked, surprised.

“Yes, Spring Blossom.” Black Hawk tried to judge what Rachel was thinking, but he had difficulty. She was an unusual woman. She never reacted as he expected.

She was thoughtful as she continued to gaze at him. “How long will I have to stay?”

A flash of elation centered in his gut. “Until we learn where this Sioux brave is located ... until we know that it is safe for your return.”

“All right.”

He blinked. “You will stay in my village, where I—we—can protect you? You will do as we say in all things?”

“I will stay, but as for doing everything you say ...” She smiled suddenly, and the sight of her good humor made his blood pump hard and fast. “I will have to judge each request on its own merit.” Her tone challenged him.

He had not expected her to capitulate so quickly or so easily. Perhaps he should be wary, he thought. He stared at her hard, but he could find nothing in her expression that told him she was being deceitful or insincere. “Good.”

“Daniel,” she said bitterly. “This was his idea, wasn't it.”

Black Hawk shook his head. “The idea was mine,” he said, noting her shocked, then angry expression, “and mine alone.”

The crunch of dead leaves and dry brush alerted Black Hawk to someone's presence. He waited in the darkness for the person to reveal himself.

“Black Hawk?” came a harsh whisper.

The brave stepped from behind a tree. “Dan-yel, my friend.”

“How did it go?” Daniel asked. “Is she all right?”

Black Hawk nodded. “She was angry, but she will stay.”

“Good.” Daniel looked relieved. “Thank you. Perhaps Amelia will be able to rest easier now.”

The warrior acknowledged his friend's gratitude with a nod. “John Dempsey,” he said. “What will you do with him?”

“He will work at the mission during the day. At night, he'll stay with us.”

Black Hawk frowned. “Do you think this is wise?” He waved the other man toward his village. Daniel fell into step beside him. “What if our enemy returns when the sun lights up the day's sky?”

Daniel's brow furrowed. “Do you think this is likely?”

“We cannot take chances.”

“My father-in-law will not hide out until the danger is past. He'll want to continue his work,” Daniel said.

“Cannot the people send word to him when they need him?”

“I'll talk with him about it.”

Black Hawk nodded. “This is good.”

They were within sight of the Ojibwa village. The light from a large cookfire cast a golden glow over the nearest wigwam and the two men.

Daniel halted, reluctant to go farther. “I will not enter, my friend. It's best if my sister-in-law does not see me just yet.”

A glint of amusement lit up Black Hawk's dark eyes. “You do not wish to suffer her anger.”

Daniel's mouth curved. “That is part of it, yes, but I fear that she will see me and latch onto me to escape.” He saw awareness in the Ojibwa's expression.

“Then it is wise that you go,” Black Hawk said. “Will you be safe?”

Daniel knew what his friend was asking. Who was to protect those at the trading post? In their anger, the Sioux could attack anyone. “I've asked for help from the Army.” He saw his friend tense and understood why. How could he trust the U.S. Army? There'd been trouble with soldiers twice before. The first time a band of men, led by Daniel's evil brother-in-law, Captain Richard Milton, had kidnapped and attacked villages and homes. Milton's men had not been acting on orders from U.S. Army officials, but on Milton's command. The second most recent time was when Black Hawk had been ambushed, shot, and left for dead.

“Don't worry, Black Hawk. I've sent word to our friend Cameron Walters. He'll see that we have soldiers we can trust. Your people will not be harmed. Cameron has already caught the men who attacked you. They were deserters—a group of cowards looking for a lone man.”

“I hope you speak the truth, my friend,” Black Hawk said, his expression somber. “We have one enemy; we do not need two.”

 

 

“No! Leave me alone! Touch me again, and I'll hit you!”

Black Hawk heard the woman's shrieks as he neared his sister's wigwam. He raised the flap and entered. His eyes widened as he caught sight of Rachel Dempsey with her back against the wall, clutching her gown to her strangely clad body. Spring Blossom and two other Ojibwa women were trying to coax her to give up her garments.

He spoke to his sister in Ojibwa. The sound of his voice silenced all the women, except Rachel, who spied him as the next target of her anger.

“Black Hawk! I'll not give up my clothes!” she exclaimed. “Tell them to get away from me!”

Spring Blossom spoke rapidly to her brother. The other two women joined in the conversation, until the wigwam was filled with the frustrated tones of the Ojibwa females.

Black Hawk grunted, then nodded. All the women left, except for Rachel Dempsey and Spring Blossom.

“Rach-el, you cannot wear your garments in our village. If we are to protect you, you must appear as one of us.”

Eyeing him warily, she pressed her gown higher. “I don't want to go about half-naked.” Rachel was mortified at the thought that they expected her to dress as they did. Many of the women went around bare-breasted, with only kilts to shield them from the weather and the others' attention. She'd kill first before she'd abandon her practice of being fully clothed.

She watched as surprise, then understanding flittered across Black Hawk's face. His mouth twitched. Was he amused? she wondered with increasing outrage.

“This is not funny!” she cried.

His features sobered.

“Rach-el,” Spring Blossom enunciated carefully. “You not have to wear kilt. Wear tunic. Like this.” She held up a lovely, full-length deerskin dress. “It better for village life. You not be happy in your—thing,” she said, pointing toward Rachel's corset.

Rachel could feel her cheeks heat. She felt exposed in her chemise, corset, and pantalets. The Ojibwa women had nearly torn off her gown in their efforts to undress her. But she had gotten ahold of it and wasn't about to relinquish it. She held it out to inspect it, saw that it was damaged, and clutched it back to her breasts.

Then, she became aware of Black Hawk's interest in her underclothing. Embarrassed, she backed up another step, and cried out as she bumped the back of her head against the ceiling where the dome curved down to meet the wall.

Black Hawk started forward. “Are you all right?”

“Stop!” she cried. “Stay where you are!”

He froze, looking hurt.

Her heart thumped wildly within her chest as she eyed Black Hawk and his sister. Without her own clothes, she'd feel naked, vulnerable, as if she'd abandoned every last part of herself.

Then, she recalled the bright colors in the clothing of some of the Indian women and men. They wore garments made from calico and other fabrics traded from the white men. Why couldn't she? She mentioned it to the Ojibwa brother and sister.

Black Hawk shook his head. “Our people look Ojibwa in white men's dress. You, Rach-el Dempsey, would look too much like white woman.”

“Please,” she whispered. She gripped her gown tighter. “Let me go home. I want to go home.”

“Rach-el,” Black Hawk began, seeing her fear. He was deeply wounded by her behavior. He had kissed this woman, and she had trusted him enough to respond to his touch. What had happened to that trust? Had his bringing her here killed it?

“All right,” she whispered. Her expression caused his stomach to contract. “You and your sister go outside, and I will put on your Ojibwa dress.”

Black Hawk and Spring Blossom exchanged glances.

“I will wait outside,” Spring Blossom said. She handed the dress to her brother before she stepped out into the night.

“Here.” Black Hawk held out the doeskin gown to her. He expected her to come and get it. He wanted her to reach for it.

“Toss it over here.”

He narrowed his gaze. “No.”

Her eyes widened. “You expect me to approach you?” At his nod, she exclaimed, “But the way I'm dressed, it's not proper!”

The brave sighed. “Rach-el, this is not a village of white people. We are the
Anishinaabe.
We do things differently.”

“I can see that!” she cried.

He didn't relent, but held the tunic out to her. If she wanted it, she would have to cross the wigwam and take it out of his hand.

She eyed the dress and seemed to contemplate the distance between them. Her face reddened as she began to move a few inches at a time across the dirt floor.

“I hate you,” she said.

“You do not hate me, Rach-el. I have done nothing to harm you. Be angry with Clouds-at-Morning. Be angry with the Sioux, but do not be angry with me—your friend.”

She had continued to move slowly toward him. She kept her gown against her body to protect herself from his gaze, but it didn't matter to him. He had a good imagination, and Black Hawk used it now as he speculated what was under those ridiculous undergarments.

“Why do white women wear so many clothes?” he asked.

She halted. “We don't!” She shut her mouth abruptly as if she suddenly realized that they did, in fact, wear many garments. She appeared to give serious thought to the matter. “To look good, I suppose.”

“You do not need ugly garments to look beautiful,” he said huskily. His skin began to warm as she started forward again.

She kept her gaze on the doeskin dress as she stopped within inches of him and reached for the garment. Black Hawk raised it back, out of her range.

Her startled eyes shot to his.

“You do not trust me,” he said, making no effort to hide his dismay.

She blinked. “Black Hawk—”

“Here,” he said, and tossed her the doeskin tunic. “If it pleases you, I will stay away from you.” He turned and lifted the door flap.

“No!” she cried.

He hesitated, dropped the flap, and looked back.

She appeared upset. “I'm sorry, but this whole situation takes some getting used to.”

He looked at her a long moment, then gave a nod. “The Sioux are our enemy,” he said angrily.

Rachel was stunned by his tone. “You hate them enough to kill?” The savage she'd first encountered was back ... and he was real. How could she have forgotten him?

Black Hawk's features looked fierce. “They have killed my people. I will kill before I will allow them to hurt another of the
Anishinaabe.”

And her?
Would he kill because of her? She shivered.

His features softened with concern. “You are cold. Put on tunic. I will send Spring Blossom in to help you.” He eyed her corset as if it were an unknown dangerous animal.

“No,” she said, “it's not necessary. I will call her if I need her.”

He gazed at her for several long seconds. The air seemed to vibrate and quiver between them. Rachel looked away, then back again. “We will do what we can to make your stay here happy,” he said.

“Miigwech,”
she said softly, thanking him in Ojibwa.

She saw his eyes widen, and he smiled.

Then he raised the door flap and was gone.

 

 

“He what?”
Amelia glared at her husband. “Tell me he didn't.”

“I'm sorry, my love,” Daniel said, looking sheepish. “Black Hawk was convinced it was the only way to get Rachel to his village.”

“So you allowed him to kidnap her!”

“She's all right,” he assured her. “Black Hawk spoke to her, and she's agreed to stay.”

Amelia looked skeptical. “She'll hate it there. Rachel isn't used to that simple life.”

Daniel narrowed his gaze. “Some people find their simple life rewarding.”

His wife had the good grace to blush. “I want to see her.”

“I don't think that's wise, Amelia,” he said. “We wanted Black Hawk to help us, didn't we?”

She nodded.

“Then we have to trust Black Hawk to do what's best. He'll see that she's well treated.”

“I know she'll be well treated,” she said softly. “I've stayed with the Ojibwa. I know how kind they are.”

“Then, will you please relax and just worry about our baby?”

The mention of their baby put a smile on Amelia's face. “I love you,” she said. She embraced him.

Daniel's expression softened as he put his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. “I love you, too, my sweet.”

Then he thought of Rachel and frowned.

 

 

Her stomach felt queasy as Rachel stared at the deer hide. “I will show you how to fix skin,” Spring Blossom told her.

“Fix?” Rachel echoed, her nausea increasing. “You have to do something to it?”

Spring Blossom nodded. “Must know how to fix hide. Use for tunic. Use for blank-it. Make smooth. Make nice.”

Rachel nodded.
How did one take a horrible, deceased animal and turn it into one of these lovely skins?

Her stomach roiled as she watched Spring Blossom pick up the knife and begin to scrape off the red matter on the inside of the fur. The smell from the decaying meat made Rachel gag and look away.

“Here, you take,” the Ojibwa maiden said, extending the knife.

Rachel turned and realized with horror that Spring Blossom expected her to take over the chore. She took one look at the remaining layer of deer entrails and fought the urge to vomit. “No, not yet. Let me watch a little longer.”

Spring Blossom gazed at her white face, then nodded. “I will show you how to use knife on fur.”

Relieved, that she didn't have to scrape the inside, Rachel inclined her head.

As she waited for Spring Blossom to finish the one side, Rachel smacked at a mosquito on her arm. Her poor white skin had become a mass of red welts. For some reason, it seemed as if the bloodthirsty insects had chosen her—and only her—to feast on. She started to scratch the area, and suddenly her other bug bites began to itch.

Spring Blossom finished the one side of the deer. She frowned when she saw Rachel scratching. “You put on grease?” she asked.

Rachel shook her head. The salve that Spring Blossom referred to was a smelly greasy concoction made with ingredients unknown to Rachel. She had considered using it when Black Hawk's sister had first given it to her, but she had quickly decided against it. She'd thought the smell would make her sick. And she worried what the grease would do to her smooth skin.

“Rach-el use bear grease. Keep bugs from biting. Bugs will eat many bites if white woman does not use.”