Wild Ecstasy (18 page)

“I cannot say,” Echohawk said.

“Will you seek her out?” Silver Wing further questioned. “Will you ask her to return with you to our village as your wife?”

“I cannot say,” Echohawk repeated.

“She will be at Fort Snelling,” Silver Wing offered. “That was her destination before her horse threw her, leaving her helpless in the forest. I am sure that is where she went when fleeing from your anger and accusations.”

“Fort Snelling . . .” Echohawk said contemplatively. “Fort Snelling.”

“
Ay-uh
,” Silver Wing said. “And the mention of Fort Snelling brings me back to why the braves wait in council for us even now, Echohawk.”

“The great powwow at Fort Snelling is soon,” Echohawk said, nodding. “The yearly powwow between the neighboring tribes, even the Sioux. I have heard of this powwow that Colonel Snelling has every year at his fort, hoping to draw the Chippewa and Sioux into a lasting friendship.” He laughed sarcastically. “How can that ever be? The snakelike Sioux will be the enemy of the Chippewa
ah-pah-nay
, forever! I shall carry within my heart much hate for that renegade Sioux White Wolf! Always!”

“I dislike White Wolf no less than you, and I do not expect he will be among the peace seekers at Fort Snelling,” Chief Silver Wing said solemnly. “It is for Colonel Snelling that I urge you to go to the powwow. He makes an attempt to bring peace among the Chippewa and Sioux, whereas no other white man before him even cared. In fact, I'm sure they were glad to see us kill each other off.”

Echohawk turned his eyes to Silver Wing. “You are going?” he questioned.

“
Gah-ween
, no,” Chief Silver Wing said, shaking his head slowly back and forth. “I think it is wise to let others who are younger go and experience this time of camaraderie and bring back the news of it to their chief.”

Echohawk rose quickly to his feet, his eyes and heart alive again. “I will go,” he said, smiling at Silver Wing as he rose before him. “I am eager to go to the fort. My chosen braves and I will proudly ride with the representatives of your band of Chippewa. We will listen to words of peace with open hearts and minds.”

“That is good,” Chief Silver Wing said, wrapping Echohawk within his arms, giving him a warm hug. “And remember, my son, keep peaceful thoughts about those who have wronged you. Somehow they will pay for their evil ways. But for now, your thoughts must remain pure to ensure the safety and future of both your people and mine.”

Echohawk could not help but be attentive to Chief Silver Wing's warnings. Like Echohawk's beloved father, Silver Wing was a man of wisdom. Echohawk wanted so badly to respect his wishes, yet hate was eating away at his heart for this man who he now knew beyond a shadow of a doubt was No-din's father.

“Still I can make no promises to you,” Echohawk said, easing from Chief Silver Wing's embrace. “But hear me when I say this to you. I respect you and your reasons for asking me to have a peaceful heart. In you I see my father. With you I feel as though I am
with
my father. I hope somehow to repay you one day for your kindnesses to me.”

Chief Silver Wing placed a hand to Echohawk's shoulder. “Echohawk, from this day forth, you
are
my son, in every respect,” he said sincerely. “Now, let us go and sit together in council with our respective braves. It is best that they share these good feelings between two chiefs.”

“
Ay-uh
,” Echohawk said, warmed through and through by Silver Wing's gifts of love and guidance.

Chapter 18

—Keats

 

 

 

 

The aroma of smoke awakened Victor Temple with a start. He bolted from his bed when he heard men shouting outside, and quickly saw the reflection of fire on the ceiling of his bedroom.

“Damn!” he gasped, scurrying into his breeches.

Shirtless, he left his room, but just as he stepped out into the corridor, he cried out with pain as something came down hard on his head. Blacking out from the blow, he crumpled to the floor, unaware of rough hands picking him up, carrying him down the stairs, and outside, tying him to a horse.

When he finally came to, his head throbbing with pain, he squinted into the darkness, soon realizing that he had been shackled to a wall, nude.

“Lord have mercy,” he cried, the room darker than a moonless night. He winced and tried to pull his feet up from the floor when he heard rats scurrying around, squeaking, but his legs were tied too securely to the wall for him to move his feet.

“Help!” he shouted. “Someone, please help me!”

He became quiet, listening. Fear gripped his insides and sweat pearled up on his brow when he still heard no sounds but the rats.

“Who are you?
Where
are you?” he cried. “Why have you done this to me?”

But still no response.

It was as though he was in a deep dark tunnel, alone except for—

A rat's sharp teeth sank into the flesh of one of his bare feet. He let out a bloodcurdling scream, then fainted....

* * *

Excitement welled up inside Mariah as she stood before the mirror. She stared in amazement at her reflection, thinking that by some miracle Abigail had fussed enough with her hair to make it actually look pretty with all of its waves and curls.

Mariah gazed down at the satin gown Abigail had let her choose for the ball. It had transformed her into someone that even she thought might be called beautiful! Pale green, it was trimmed in delicate white lace, its bodice low, revealing a cleavage that made her blush. So captivated was she by the vision in the mirror, she didn't hear soft footsteps coming up behind her.

“My dear, you are absolutely ravishing,” Abigail said, stepping to Mariah's side, a picture of loveliness herself in her off-the-shoulder black velveteen dress, her hair coiled at the top of her head with long, lustrous ringlets hanging down at the back. The top curves of her breasts were just barely exposed, and above them lay a sparkling diamond necklace.

Abigail clasped her hands before her. “Mariah, you are going to turn every man's head at the ball tonight,” she said, sighing dreamily. “And my but aren't you going to be busy dancing the night away! I will have to assign Josiah to stand guard, just to fight the men off you.”

Mariah paled and turned quickly to Abigail. “Abigail, I don't know what I was thinking of, getting so dressed up for the ball, or why I was so excited to attend it,” she said, her eyes wide. “I don't know the first thing about dancing! I . . . I will make an absolute fool of myself should I even attempt to!”

“There will be many anxious to teach you,” Abigail said, gently patting Mariah on the cheek. She glanced toward the window, hearing a commotion outside in the courtyard. Some Indians had already started arriving for the powwow.

She glanced again at Mariah, having succeeded thus far this evening in getting her mind off the gathering of the Indians. In time, Mariah had felt more comfortable in taking Abigail into her confidence, and had spoken of her love for Echohawk, yet had not given her reason for having left him. But it was quite evident to Abigail that Mariah still loved him. It was always in her eyes and voice when even the mention of the Chippewa came into the conversation at the dinner table.

Mariah grew tense, having noticed Abigail's sudden apprehension. Mariah herself was acutely aware of the noise coming from the Indian camps in and around the walls of Fort Snelling. She had been told of the powwow that Colonel Snelling had planned to create a peaceful union between two warring factions of Indians.

Last night she had been unable to sleep while listening to the low thumping of the drums, and the songs and chants of the Indians. She had watched all day for signs of Echohawk—yet had not seen him. She had to wonder if he would eventually come. And if so, would she see him? Would she speak to him?

Unable to stay away, and having only a faint evening light left to study the gathering Indians, Mariah brushed past Abigail and went to the window and slowly eased the sheer curtain aside. Her gaze roamed slowly around below her, watching for a tall, handsome Indian who would be set apart from all of the others by an incongruous pair of spectacles.

Those damn eyeglasses! she fussed to herself. If not for them, she would still be a part of Echohawk's life!

But she knew that it was foolish to blame eyeglasses, for even without them, he in time would have discovered her deceit.

“He could be among those encamped outside the walls of the fort,” Abigail said, moving to Mariah's side, slipping an arm around her tiny waist. She gazed down at those who were inside the fort, sitting and smoking around a great outdoor fire. Some were Chippewa. Some were Sioux. She hoped with all her heart that they would feast and fraternize in perfect accord.

“I know,” Mariah said softly. “And I am foolish for even caring.” She caught herself, having come close to telling Abigail truths that would condemn not only herself in the commandant's wife's eyes but also her father.

“Yes, it is a bit foolish, my dear,” Abigail said, brushing her fingers across Mariah's brow, smoothing some red curls into place that had fallen from the rest. “His culture and yours differ so much. You were wise to leave when you did and not allow your feelings to grow stronger. Although it has been done, it is unwise for a white woman to marry into a family of Indians. The life is hard, Mariah. So very hard.”

“I am sure it is,” Mariah said, sighing. Then her heart fluttered wildly in her chest when she caught sight of many more Indians approaching the courtyard, Echohawk in the lead.

“He's here,” she whispered just loud enough for Abigail to hear. She clasped her hands tightly together before her. “Echohawk has come.” Then her eyes wavered. She was not sure if he even knew she was at Fort Snelling. Of course he had come only for the powwow. By now she would be completely banished from his mind and heart!

“How odd,” Abigail said, gasping. She moved away from Mariah and leaned closer to the window. “Mariah, Echohawk is wearing eyeglasses. I have never seen an Indian wear eyeglasses. And where would he have gotten them? Had he traded for them at the fort, everyone would have been talking about it, for an Indian, no matter how handsome he is, looks rather odd in eyeglasses.”

Guilt spread through Mariah like wildfire, since she knew all of the answers yet was unable to tell Abigail.

Her father!

He alone was responsible for Echohawk's injured eyesight!

“Yes, it does seem odd,” Mariah said, her voice drawn, taking her eyes off Echohawk just long enough to see others in the courtyard stopping to stare at him.

Then she turned her attention back to him, thinking that nothing could diminish his handsomeness. Everything within her seemed to melt as she watched him ride further into the courtyard, so proud and tall in his saddle. He wore fringed white doeskin breeches and a shirt embellished with colorful beads and porcupine quills, his raven-dark hair held back with a colorfully beaded headband.

There was just enough light left to see his chiseled bronze face with its bold nose and strong chin and night-black eyes behind the absurdly out-of-place eyeglasses.

Tears burned at the corners of Mariah's eyes as she envisioned him nude, seeing even now in her mind's eye the expanse of sleekly muscled chest, the wide shoulders tapering to narrow hips, and the hard, flat stomach.

She could even now feel his hands on her face, framing her lips before kissing her.

She could even now feel his hard strong arms pressing her willing body against his....

“Mariah?” Abigail said, interrupting Mariah's thoughts. “Dear? Let us go down to the ballroom. The string quartet is even now starting the waltzes.”

Abigail placed a hand to Mariah's elbow as Mariah looked gloomily at her. “Come, dear,” she persisted. “We must give you a reason to erase that frown from your lovely face. It will be better for you to mingle with other people and get your mind off Echohawk.”

“Yes, I'm sure you are right,” Mariah said, swallowing hard. She wanted to take a last glance at Echohawk, but she turned away from the window.

“We will have such a wonderful time tonight,” Abigail said, sweeping Mariah from the room and hurriedly down the corridor and then the narrow staircase.

Mariah's heart pounded as they moved down another corridor, the sound of music and laughter drawing closer. She sucked in a nervous breath, then went into the ballroom at Abigail's side. She stopped and took a quick step back, struck almost numb with fear when she saw the throng of people. Some were milling about, sipping either punch or wine from long-stemmed glasses, while others were whirling across the polished parquet, crinolines and silken ruffles billowing, the string quartet on a platform at the far end of the room.

Abigail laughed softly and took Mariah's hand, leading her into the room. Mariah's heart fluttered and her face became flushed with a building excitement, and she was glad for the moment to be able to put Echohawk at least partly from her mind. She allowed Abigail to usher her around the room, introducing her to the other guests.

Soon Mariah found herself spinning around the room with one handsome gentleman after another, her dress billowing prettily about her, the ruffle of her petticoat seeming to foam around her delicate ankles.

She excused herself each time she stepped clumsily on the feet of the men, trying to hide her embarrassment behind winning smiles.

But too soon her merriment became strained, and even more awkward, when Tanner McCloud was suddenly there, his strange yellow eyes gleaming into hers. She did not have time to protest when he grabbed her roughly by the hand and took her among the dancers and began whirling her around the room, all the while smiling in his leering way.

Everything about him made her uncomfortable. She saw him as a repulsive, vile old man. And he always seemed to have the stench of death on him after working with dead animals all day, removing their pelts.

“Tanner McCloud, this one dance is all you will get from me,” she said icily. She glared up at him. “Must I remind you that my father sent you away when you brought the bride price to pay for me?”

“That was then,” Tanner said, chuckling. “This is now.”

“Nothing has changed,” Mariah fumed. “Nothing!”

“I'd say everything has changed,” Tanner said, leaning down into her face, the stench of alcohol on his breath causing Mariah to turn her face away, gagging. “It's apparent you've run away from your pa. As I see it, because you ain't with him and his bossin' ways any longer, you can make your own decisions.” His yellow eyes gleamed into hers. “It's all up to you, Mariah. Marry me. I'll give you the world.”

“Marry you?” Mariah said, staring disbelievingly up at him. Then she threw her head back and laughed. “Not if you were the last man on earth!”

Then she grew sober and looked up at him with narrowing eyes, trying to jerk herself free when the string quartet stopped playing and all of the dancers paused between songs.

“Let me go,” she said, her voice a low hiss. She tried to jerk herself free again, but to no avail. Tanner continued to stand there, his hold on her wrist solid, his lips twisted into an ugly smile.

“I'd let her go if I were you,” a man said suddenly behind Mariah.

She turned her head with a start, finding herself looking at a young man with ruddy yet handsome features and hair the same color as hers—as red as autumn sunsets. He was taller than Tanner, and when he bowed civilly and cut in to rescue her, she smiled up into dark and dancing friendly eyes.

“Thank you, sir,” she said as Tanner released his hold on her and quickly lost himself in the crowd, moving away from her and the stranger.

Abigail came in a rustle of petticoats to Mariah's side. “My son, William Joseph, is your hero for tonight,” she said, laughing softly as she placed a gentle hand to her son's cheek, patting it. “And, son, this is the young lady I told you about. This is Mariah Temple.”

Mariah blushed and her hand went to her hair when she found William Joseph gazing bemusedly at it, then sighed with relief when his attention moved from her hair, to smile warmly down at her again.

“And she is everything that you said she would be,” William Joseph said, lifting Mariah's hand to his lips, kissing it. “Lovely. Enchantingly lovely.”

Mariah lowered her eyes, blushing; then, before she could say a word to William Joseph, he had whisked her into the midst of the whirling dancers and begun guiding her masterfully around the floor.

“Mother told me about your father,” he said frowning. “I think it was very courageous of you to leave home on your own to seek a new way of life without Victor. You have come to the right people for assistance. My mother and father are most kindhearted. They will do right by you.”

“I am ever so grateful,” Mariah murmured, gasping with embarrassment when she half-stumbled over one of William Joseph's feet as they made another wide turn on the dance floor.