Savage Betrayal (15 page)

He quickened his pace, anxious to see how his new slave was doing under Precious Copper’s tutelage.

Fighting Wolf was winding his way slowly through the crowd of people gathered around the bonfire, when his uncle approached him. Scarred Mouth, elder brother to Fighting Wolf’s deceased father, was head chief of the Ahousats.

Scarred Mouth had been anxious about the Hesquiat raid. During the council when Fighting Wolf had introduced his plan for attacking the Hesquiats at a wedding feast, Scarred Mouth had spoken against the motion. He argued that his younger brother’s death should go unavenged because the Ahousat people were weary of fighting. He asked the warriors at the council to reconsider. While the death of Fighting Wolf’s father was indeed a great loss to the tribe, the loss of more Ahousat warriors killed in the revenge raid would be much worse, stated old Scarred Mouth. Why not make a genuine offer of peace to the Hesquiats? Then the Ahousats would no longer have to defend themselves on that front.

At the council meeting, Fighting Wolf had respectfully pointed out to his esteemed uncle that few Ahousat warriors would be killed as the Hesquiats were not expecting treachery. Also, if a war chief’s death was left unavenged, the Hesquiats would think they could kill an Ahousat whenever they wanted. Surely the venerable leader of the Ahousats did not want to have his people called cowards? To be the prey of any aggressive tribe on the coast? No, Fighting Wolf thought not. And so, hearing the young men’s cries for vengeance, Scarred Mouth had reluctantly acceded to his nephew’s bloodthirsty plans.

Fighting Wolf watched with eyes narrowed as Scarred Mouth approached, for this uncle never did anything without good reason. After all, his position as chief of the large tribe of Ahousats rested solely on his astute political maneuverings, and Fighting Wolf had reason to suspect that he was about to see more of his uncle’s widely touted political abilities in action. Scarred Mouth, however, merely greeted Fighting Wolf with a bland smile.

“Nephew, I’m glad the raid on the Hesquiats went so well!” he said heartily. “Truly, you pulled off a successful attack and brought home many prizes. I saw a number of captive women and children—even a husky male slave!” He paused for a moment. “Did you have any real trouble with those Hesquiat dogs?”

“No, Uncle, I did not. Everything went according to plan. They were caught completely unawares,” answered Fighting Wolf, not willing to tell his uncle any more than the man asked.

“Ahh, good, good,” grunted his uncle. His nephew could be exasperatingly closemouthed at times. “And what of old Thunder Maker? Is he still among the living? Heh, heh.”

“Why as a matter of fact, he is,” answered the nephew smoothly. “Last time I saw him, he was humiliated, but definitely still alive.” What was the old uncle up to now?

“Hmmm,” responded his uncle. “It might have gone better for us if Thunder Maker was dead.” Drat the nephew! Why hadn’t he killed the Hesquiat leader when he had had the chance? Now Thunder Maker would lead a revenge raid and the fighting would begin all over again. Scarred Mouth sighed heavily.

“Dead? I don’t think so, uncle,” responded Fighting Wolf carelessly. “I wanted Thunder Maker’s humiliation more than his death and I succeeded in that. The woman you saw step out of my canoe this morning is his daughter. Now warriors up and down the coast will spit on Thunder Maker’s name. They will say he can’t even protect his own family!”

Scarred Mouth looked with interest at his nephew. “That woman is Thunder Maker’s daughter? Huh! I didn’t think the old man had it in him!” he muttered almost to himself. “His daughter, you say,” he marveled anew. Well, his bloodthirsty nephew certainly seemed to have a good eye for women, he conceded.

Aloud Scared Mouth said, “Well, well. Perhaps there is something in what you say, after all. You know, for a fine nephew like you, I could spread the word among some of my good friends—chiefs every one of them—up and down the coast that Thunder Maker cringed and tried to run away when you attacked him. No one thinks much of a coward!” He gazed assessingly at his nephew.

Fighting Wolf’s eyes narrowed. Here it comes, he thought. He remained silent, however, watching his uncle intently.

“Of course, in return, I’d expect a little gift,” continued Scarred Mouth. “That useless Hesquiat woman you just mentioned, Thunder Maker’s daughter, would be suitable, I suppose.” He tried to gauge the effect of his words on the younger man. Fighting Wolf, however, was not easily read. “Surely she will not be of much use to you,” Scarred Mouth added disparagingly. “She’s far too thin to be a strong worker. And,” he went on grandly, “my friends would be very impressed to hear how brave you were, how well you fought. They would flock to your potlatches…” He was watching Fighting Wolf closely now.

The younger man was silent, pretending to consider his uncle’s offer of influence. At last he drawled, “Many thanks, uncle, but I think I’ll keep her for myself. Despite what you say, she looks to me like she’d be, uh, a strong worker. As to her thinness, at least she won’t eat much, will she?” Fighting Wolf had to grin at his own words. Everyone knew his uncle was tightfisted, and this would just exacerbate the old man’s greed.

“Hmmph. Well, it’s up to you, Nephew. It’s up to you. Just let me know anytime you want the word to get around, though. I do have a lot of friends,” he added importantly, hoping this smug nephew would change his mind. Seeing that Fighting Wolf remained steadfast, Scarred Mouth decided to retreat. Hastily making his excuses, he was soon lost in the crowd.

Fighting Wolf turned to watch him go. In just one day, he marveled, he’d been offered a new canoe and political influence in trade for a supposedly “useless” female slave! He chuckled to himself. Birdwhistle and Scarred Mouth must think him a blind fool not to see through their offers! All they wanted was a beautiful woman to warm their beds.

He continued chuckling as he walked in the direction of his longhouse, shrugging off a slight irritation that the woman they wanted he considered his.

At the longhouse, he entered silently through the door, leaving the skin cover to flap back and forth and announce his return. His apartment looked very welcoming.

Several clamshell lamps threw their soft light gently around the room. These lamps, large white clamshell halves filled with dogfish oil, had twisted cedar bark wicks in their centers. They were lit in every house as soon as dark descended which at this time of year, summer, was well into the evening.

A cozy scene greeted his eyes. Precious Copper and several of her attendant women sat around the small fire crackling in the center of the room, the jumping flames casting a warm glow on all within. The women were chatting and gossiping quietly as they wove cedar strips into matting and clothing. Seeing Fighting Wolf enter, one of the women murmured in a low voice to her companions. The other women giggled, peeking at the war chief shyly.

Fighting Wolf’s eyes narrowed as he searched for Sarita among the women. She was not there. Unwilling to ask her whereabouts of Precious Copper in front of her curious friends, he strode over to his sleeping area and lay down, thinking to get up and find Sarita shortly after the nosy women left.

He awoke much later in the night when all was silent about him. Small red coals glowed in the fire pit; the clamshell lamps had burned out. The women had retired to their respective beds, as had Precious Copper. The large room was dark and only the occasional cough from one of the families sleeping far down the house filtered through to his alert ears.

Shoving the sea otter fur bedcovers to one side, Fighting Wolf rose quickly. One thought dominated him: to find Sarita. Picking up a clamshell lamp, he glanced quickly around the large room until his eye caught the small alcove in the far corner. Guessing she was there, he padded over and looked inside. Indeed, there lay Sarita, asleep on the wooden plank bed. Sea otter skins covered her and the trade blanket cloak was drawn tightly up to her chin. He lifted the lamp and gazed down at her. Her face in repose looked so young, a momentary twinge of pity washed over him at the predicament he had placed her in. His harsh face softened as he surveyed her sleeping form.

Placing the lamp carefully on the floor, he kneeled down beside her, still studying the sleeping woman, but now reverently. Reaching out one large hand, he captured a wayward curl that fell across her jaw. He brought the silky softness to his lips and held it there a moment, then brushed it gently back from her face. He reached out one strong arm and placed it carefully across, but not touching, her body. He wanted so much to hold her, but knew should she awake she’d cry out. She continued to lie there, breathing rhythmically in sleep.

Bending quietly over her, he inhaled the warm woman smell of her, perfumed with some floral scent. Breathing deeply he touched his lips against her cheek first, a touch as soft as swan's down. Then he brushed his lips against hers ever so lightly. Her lips felt smooth and warm and he found himself lost in her gentle softness. Seeing that she continued to breathe evenly, he caressed another stray lock of hair gently back from her cheek before he slowly stood to his full height. He towered over the unknowing woman, reluctant now in this new mood of tenderness to wake her. Still savoring the last kiss, he turned away quietly and stole back to his bed.

In the dark alcove, beautiful golden eyes stared out into the darkness, a new knowledge dawning. It was a long time before sleep gently claimed them once again.

* * * *

The high-pitched tweeting of robins awoke Fighting Wolf from his sleep. Yawning and stretching several times, he was finally fully awake. He cursed aloud as he remembered a gentle kiss, a soft caress in the dark of the night. In the bright light of day it seemed but a dream.

He knew now he had to have Sarita, to possess her fully in the one way a man can truly possess a woman. One kiss would not suffice. He would not rest until his body had tasted hers. Today, he thought in satisfaction, he would find out more about this desirable woman. Soon he would know all there was to know about Sarita, he chuckled to himself.

Fate, however, had other plans. When he was only halfway through a breakfast of smoked clams, word was brought that several war canoes had been sighted skulking around Ahousat waters. It appeared the Ucluelets, a belligerent tribe to the south, were scouting out new fishing grounds and encroaching on Ahousat domain.

Precious Copper hastily packed dried fish and water-filled seal bladders for Fighting Wolf to take with him as he quickly dispatched the remainder of his meal. While he ate, his men hustled to arm themselves and prepare the war canoes.

“Those Ucluelets have infringed on Ahousat territory far too often lately. This time we’ll show them a good fight!” exclaimed Fighting Wolf.

“Do be careful,” cautioned Precious Copper.

Adrenaline pumping, Fighting Wolf raced for the door. Over his shoulder he called, “I’ll be gone for as long as it takes to drive those cowardly Ucluelets back to their pitiful village!”

* * * *

Sarita awoke late in the morning. She felt greatly refreshed and stretched languorously. Rising from the bed, she cast the sea otter blankets to one side, but still clutched her trade blanket close to her chest. She shivered slightly in the cool morning air.

Suddenly thoughts of Fighting Wolf’s late night visit flooded over her. Holding her hands to her face, she felt her cheeks flush at the memory of his lips on hers. A tingle shivered up and down her spine as she remembered his gentle caresses. Then she got a grip on herself. The man was a barbarian! He had viciously tricked her father and stolen her away. She would not indulge in daydreams over him, not at all! Still, her step was light and she went about humming cheerfully to herself all morning.

Precious Copper was impressed with the new captive’s good spirits. She had feared the girl would be moping about at first. Seeing Sarita in a cheerful humor caused Precious Copper to respond in like manner and the two young women got on very well that day. Precious Copper hoped it was a sign that the captive would adjust well to her new fate.

Sarita’s good mood gradually wore off through the morning and by mid-afternoon she was beginning to feel apprehensive as to what the future held. She was finally able to shrug off her fears, however, resolving that she had only to cope with the Ahousats until she could make her escape. Equanimity restored, she concentrated on helping Precious Copper do the household chores.

She noticed Precious Copper treated her rather as an equal, more like a visiting kinswoman of equal rank than as a slave, and admired the small woman’s quiet tact. Sarita was not sure she would treat a captive as well, even under the odd circumstances of being almost a sister-in-law.

It was late afternoon when Sarita chanced to overhear a discussion between one of Precious Copper’s middle-aged attendants, Oyster Woman, and a lantern-jawed young woman, an attendant whose name Sarita did not know yet.

Sarita was careful not to appear to be eaves-dropping. “Are you expecting your husband back soon?” asked the lantern-jawed young woman.

The older woman shrugged. “Who knows?” she answered philosophically. “You know how long these expeditions can take. My husband’s a warrior. He just does what they tell him. They left this morning and will probably chase those Ucluelets for several days at least. Seems they’re always running off to fight someone,” she grumbled. “And my old husband has a bad shoulder—“

“Yes, that is too bad,” commiserated the younger woman. “I think, though, that Fighting Wolf wants to hurry home with his men as soon as he can.” Here Sarita was startled to note the younger woman glance slyly in her direction. Feeling her face grow hot, Sarita turned away and pretended to be very busy with her weaving.

So Fighting Wolf would be away for a while, she thought with relief and just a small stab of regret which she hastily ignored. Good. That gave her some time to make her plans.

Her chance to plan her escape came the very next afternoon. Precious Copper asked Sarita to take two small cousins down to the beach to hunt for rock crabs. The two, a girl and a boy of about seven and ten summers respectively, were lively children. The girl was very active, running and jumping and teasing the boy who tried his best to ignore her antics with as much dignity as he could muster. Her treated Sarita with casual disdain at first, trying to be manly, but soon forgot himself under the continual assaults of the taunting girl. Finally he lost control and aimed a punch at his younger cousin. Sarita stepped between the two, and the child’s blows glanced off her forearms. She winced in pain, but quickly recovered.