Wild Ecstasy (21 page)

“It is easy to doubt the red man,” Echohawk said, turning on his side toward her, tracing the outline of her face with his forefinger. “I am not sure that will ever change.”

“It must,” Mariah said, moving into his embrace, hugging him to her. “It's not fair.”

“Not much in life is fair,” Echohawk said. He eased away from her and drew on his breechclout and eyeglasses.

Mariah pulled her dress over her head, slipped her undergarment on, and placed a blanket around her shoulders as she moved closer to the fire. She began to speak more apologies to Echohawk, but something else drew her attention. Wide-eyed, her heart skipping several beats, she saw a loon in the fading light of evening, surely the one that they had been hearing. It was caught in the rapids.

Horrified, Mariah watched the bird as it struggled with fate for a while, but finding escape impossible, it faced downward and went under, screaming hideously, soon lost in the foaming, roaring rapids below.

“How awful!” Mariah cried, paling.

Echohawk moved to her side and sat down, his face solemn. “The red man is like the loon,” he said somberly. “We struggle with fate, but to no avail. Like the river to the loon, the white man is the victor, always.”

An intense chill encompassed Mariah, his words like ice water splashing through her consciousness.

“And yet you love me?” she murmured. “A woman whose skin is white?”

Echohawk turned her to face him. He lifted her onto his lap and cradled her close. “My woman, you too were a victim of a man with white skin, a man whose heart was black,” he murmured. “It is I, a red man, who will make the wrongs right for you.”

Mariah's eyes filled with tears. She moved her mouth to his lips and kissed him softly, sweetly. “
Mee-gway-chee-wahn-dum
, thank you, my love,” she whispered against his lips. “Thank you.”

Chapter 21

—Dawes

 

 

 

The shore was low and wet where Echohawk's braves dragged several macinac boats into the water. They had brought them there ahead of Echohawk's arrival, for the purpose of crossing this treacherous river. Mariah hugged a blanket around her arms. The chill of morning was more biting each day as autumn turned into winter.

Seeing these larger boats, instead of canoes, gave Mariah more confidence in their ability to make it across the wide river. The sturdy macinac boats were built for navigating rapids and had pointed ends to cut through the water and heavier weight so they would not be tossed about.

Mariah stifled a scream and took several shaky steps backward when out of the corner of her eye she saw a huge king snake basking on an exposed part of the riverbank. It lay in the warmth of the morning sun, its entire length ringed with narrow bands of brilliant red, black, and light yellow.

“Do not fear the snake,” Echohawk said, moving to Mariah's side. “It has been slowed down by the coldness of the night. By the time it is warmed clear through, we will be on the other side of the river.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Mariah said, laughing nervously.

“
Mah-bee-szhon
, come,” Echohawk said, placing a hand to Mariah's elbow. “The boats are loaded into the water. They are ready for travel.”

The pit of Mariah's stomach felt somewhat woozy, and her throat was dry at the thought of attempting such a dangerous expedition with Echohawk and his braves. Yet, so much good could come as a result of the river crossing.

She needed to find her father, and to clear Echohawk's name.

These things alone made her step determined as she walked with Echohawk toward the boats.

The water lapping at her moccasined feet, Mariah stood in awe of Echohawk all over again when he broke into a sad, lamenting song, gazing with arms outstretched to the heavens. She listened to the words, knowing that they were meant for Echohawk's Great Spirit.

“Master of Life!” Echohawk sang. “Look down upon my people and help us avenge the wrongs brought against us by our enemies.

“Master of Battle! Keep evil spirits from us and keep us hidden from evil eyes.

“Master of Fate! Our lives are in your hands.”

When the song was over, Echohawk stood quietly and with great dignity in the midst of his men. Then, as he motioned to them with the gesture of a hand, his braves dispersed to their respective boats, while Echohawk helped Mariah into the one that he would command.

Once on board, sitting among many soft pelts, Echohawk and several other braves manning the oars, Mariah clung to the sides and shivered as the damp river wind dashed against her face.

Her eyes kept alert, watching the fevered changes in the water's currents. When the water slammed against the sides of the boat, it shuddered dangerously. The pit of her stomach stirred strangely when the boat would dip low, then quickly rise again as the white water tossed it about.

But, she noticed, not a sound could be heard over the roar of the falls as the boat moved steadily toward the opposite bank. As the oars dipped rhythmically in and out, it was with a silent cadence that they flowed soundlessly through the water.

Mariah inhaled a shaky breath, so relieved that the opposite shore had finally been reached. Her nose and cheeks were so cold they felt as though they might snap in two at a mere touch.

Echohawk and his men beached their boats, then Echohawk came and helped her from the boat, carrying her to land that was not damp with mud.

Once higher grasses were reached, Echohawk placed Mariah to her feet. A brave came to them. He gave Echohawk a rifle, then placed a rifle in Mariah's hand.

Echohawk smiled down at Mariah, gave her a light kiss, then nodded for her to follow him to where they soon found a faint footpath that led into the forest.

The majestic pines soared into the sky, creating a kind of hall for them to walk through as they made their way between the trunks. Silence reigned supreme as the war party moved in single file through the grove of trees, searching for signs of a camp.

They continued following the path for a time, then stopped sharply when through a break in the trees a short distance away they caught sight of two sentries asleep beneath a tree. Echohawk gave a signal to his braves to go on ahead and do what was necessary while he stayed behind with Mariah.

Mariah's eyes were wide as she witnessed the silent approach of the braves, creeping as silently as the padded footsteps of the panther. They grabbed the men and had them gagged and tied to the tree without even a small outcry.

Echohawk nodded for her to follow again as he began moving through the forest, the path more distinct now.

Soon voices could be heard up ahead. Mariah's eyebrows quirked when she realized that she was hearing a noisy, gleeful group of children at play.

And when she and Echohawk came close enough to see them, she watched as the children played with their dogs. She could tell that the dogs were more than likely beasts of burden, for their fur was hopelessly matted, and where there was no fur, there were signs of deep lacerations across their backs. And most limped as they tried to romp with the children.

Echohawk gripped Mariah by an arm and held her close to his side as he peered at the children through a cover of bushes, and then at the women who were bent upon their tasks close to several run-down log cabins that stood in a circle of the clearing. Some were carrying great loads of wood into the camp on their backs. Some were washing clothes in a wooden tub.

But it was not so much the labor of the women or the play of the children that caught Echohawk's eye. It was that the women were a mixture—both white and Indian. The children were either half-breeds or white. This confirmed his belief that Yellow Eyes consorted with the Sioux. The proof was there for him to see.

“What of the children and women?” Mariah whispered, leaning closer to Echohawk.

He inhaled a deep breath, then set his jaw as he nodded toward the braves awaiting his commands.

Mariah watched as one by one the women and children were seized. Some of the braves took them to the boats to guard them until they could be taken to a place of safety once the confrontation with Tanner and his men was over.

Echohawk and his braves raised the war whoop and poured a shower of bullets and arrows into the cabins. The true fight began as men scurried from their cabins, some only half-dressed, surprise etched on their bearded faces.

But to Echohawk's confusion, none of these men were Sioux!

Every last one was white-skinned!

The battle raged for only a short time, the ambush having been successful. All of the men were slain. Even Tanner McCloud lay on the ground with a mortal wound.

Echohawk and Mariah went to Tanner. Mariah glared down at him as Echohawk began grilling him.

“Yellow Eyes, where are the renegade Sioux who so often accompany you on your raids?” he asked, his eyes filled with fire. “Where is White Wolf?”

Mariah knelt beside Tanner. She did not pity him the wound in his abdomen, blood pouring from it, “Where is my father?” she demanded, then paled when she saw him clutch feverishly at his chest, emitting a loud scream of pain. If he died before she discovered where her father was, she might never find him! Her eyes swept around her. The cabins seemed deserted now. Her father was surely not there.

A thought came to her which made her feel ill. If her father was not here, then he was probably dead.

Reaching a hand to Tanner's shirt collar, grasping it frantically, Mariah leaned closer to his face. “My father!” she cried. “Where is he? I know you are the one who burned his trading post. You are the one who abducted him. Where did you take him?
Where
?!”

Tanner's breathing was shallow, yet he managed a sly smile as he gazed up at Echohawk, then glared at Mariah. “You are accusing the wrong man, Mariah,” he said, wheezing. “I'm not responsible for what happened to your father.”

Mariah's lips parted in a gasp and her hand dropped away from Tanner. She paled when Tanner looked slowly over at Echohawk and raised a shaky finger and pointed it at him.

“He . . . did . . . it,” he whispered. “Echohawk did it. Dammit, Mariah, why don't you believe me?”

Rage lit Echohawk's eyes. He grabbed Tanner by the throat and yanked his head up from the ground. “You lie!” he hissed. “Even taking your last breath, you lie, white coward. Do you know that you cannot enter paradise with a lie on your lips?”

Tanner tried to laugh, but gurgled instead. “The Sioux? White Wolf?” he said, his voice only a thread now. “Not long ago they were defeated in a skirmish with other Sioux.” His eyesight was getting hazy, but his mind was still clear. He knew that White Wolf and his renegade companions were at Fort Snelling, mingling with the other Indians at the powwow. Tanner knew that once they heard of his demise, they would retaliate, to avenge their friend's death. Tanner naturally wanted this to come as a total surprise to Echohawk.

“How can I believe that this is true when you have lied so easily about No-din's father?” Echohawk said in a snarl. “Surely honor in death is not as important to the white man as it is to the Chippewa!”

“No-din?” Tanner said, coughing up blood. “Who is this No-din you speak of?”

Mariah leaned down into his face. “
I
am No-din,” she said, proud of her Chippewa name.

Tanner looked from Mariah to Echohawk. “You are with the Chippewa, dressed in Chippewa garb,” he said, blood now curling from his nose. “And you now have a Chippewa name?” He grabbed at his chest and groaned, yet his eyes were still locked with Mariah's. “You choose a savage over me?”

“You are the savage,” Mariah said flatly. “And you have always turned my stomach, Tanner. As for Echohawk, I adore him. I proudly warm his bed at night!”

Panic seized Mariah when she saw the wildness in Tanner's eyes and heard the shortness of his breath. She realized now how foolish it had been to speak of anything to him but her father. She still did not know where he was, and she was absolutely positive that Tanner did.

She leaned closer to his ear when his eyes closed. “Please,” she begged, “tell me where I can find my father. Before you die, Tanner, please do one decent thing. For me, Tanner? Please?”

When Tanner's eyes opened and looked up at her, a strange sort of peacefulness in their depths, she felt hope rise within her, thinking that somehow she had reached a corner of his heart that hadn't hardened.

But with a shock she discovered that she was wrong. The reason for the restfulness in his eyes was that he was dead!

“
No!
” she screamed. She grabbed his shoulders and began shaking him. “You can't die! Not before you tell me where my father is!”

A gentle hand on her shoulder drew Mariah's head around. Through her tears she saw Echohawk. “He's dead,” she cried. “And he didn't tell me where Father is! Echohawk, now what will I do? I shall never be at peace until I know of his welfare!”

“Perhaps it is best,” Echohawk said quietly. “Yellow Eyes had no compassion. How your father died may not be a pleasant thing to know.”

Mariah rose slowly to her feet, wiping tears from her face with the back of a hand. “Echohawk, it is the same for the white people as it is the red man when a beloved person has died,” she said, choking back a sob. “The loved one is given a proper burial.” She lowered her eyes. “Although I did not approve of my father's ways, it is only appropriate that I, his only child, see him laid to rest.”

She gazed quickly up at Echohawk again. “He would want to be buried beside my mother,” she murmured. “So that they can rest in peace together.”

“We shall try to find him,” Echohawk reassured, drawing her against him, giving her a warm hug. He looked around him at his braves, who were awaiting his orders. “Search the cabins, remove what is valuable, then burn them.”

Mariah eased from Echohawk's arms and watched guardedly as the braves went from cabin to cabin. When one came out of Tanner's cabin carrying five raven-black scalps, war whoops filled the air as they went and stood beside Tanner's body, waving the scalps over him.

“Those are scalps of my people,” Echohawk said angrily. “I know this to be true, for Yellow Eyes would not take from his friends, the Sioux.”

Some cabins were already burning, with one left to enter. The door was bolt-locked and had to be forced open by several braves crashing their shoulders against it. A ray of hope sparked inside Mariah's heart when she heard the braves shouting that they had found another white man.

“Could it be . . . ?” Mariah said, looking questioningly up at Echohawk.

“We shall see,” he answered, taking her by the elbow, walking her to the cabin.

Mariah approached to step inside, but jumped with a start when a rat scampered past her, desperate to get outside.

Collecting herself, Mariah went into the cabin, and grew instantly numb when through the dim light of the room she viewed her father shackled to the wall, nude and emaciated, his eye sockets like two holes in his face, one foot partially gnawed away.

“Papa!” she gasped, fighting back a strong urge to faint.

“Release him!” Echohawk ordered his braves. “Take him outside!”

Her knees trembling and weak, Mariah could not help but cover her nose with a hand to ward off the stench as her father was carried past her.