Savage Flames

by Cassie Edwards

  Lavinia turned to Twila and placed her hands on the child’s frail shoulders. “Listen to me, Twila,” she said flatly. “Now that my husband is gone, I’m in charge. I…I…just seem to have forgotten that I was. I never should have hidden away in my room like a scared kitten. I shall no longer do that. And just let Hiram try something with you, or me, or Dorey. I’ll shoot him.”

  She turned and looked past Twila at the gun case hanging in the hall.

  She hurried and opened the case, grabbed a rifle, loaded it, then went back to the door and opened it again.

  “You come with me, Twila,” she said. “You shall hold a lantern in the canoe as I paddle. We’re going to search for Dorey.”

  “Me?” Twila said, wide-eyed. “I ain’t nevah been in a canoe before.”

  “You won’t be able to say that after tonight,because you are going with me,” Lavinia said. She determinedly took Twila by a hand and hurried with her out into the dark. “I need you to hold the lantern while we search for Dorey. I won’t return home without her.”

  They ran to the stable that sat back from the house and hurried inside.

  Lavinia snatched up one of the lanterns that the stable boy had lit for Hiram’s return and ran with it down to the river, followed by Twila.

  Soon they were traveling down the dark channel of water, Twila in the front, lighting the way with the lantern. The light revealed that her whole body was trembling with fear.

  “You will be much safer with me, Twila, than at the plantation,” Lavinia said to reassure the child.

  Lavinia silently paddled down the cooling stretch of water that seemed to go on endlessly before her. Her eyes searched constantly through the darkness, and she shuddered as the canoe entered the Everglades.

  When she heard the screech of a panther somewhere deep in the thickness of the trees, Lavinia fought off debilitating fear. She knew that more than one panther roamed this swampy land.

  Lavinia did not fear the mysterious white panther. But there were other panthers out there, black ones that would not hesitate to pounce on her and Twila.

  “Twila, keep that light high enough to penetrate the foliage alongside the water,” Lavinia said, not missing a stroke with the paddle.

  The rifle was close by, resting against the inside of the canoe, ready to fire, if needed.

  “We’ve got to find Dorey,” Lavinia went on. “We must!”

  “I feel so guilty for havin’ put off tellin’ you that Dorey didn’t come home when she should have,” Twila said, tears spilling from her eyes and half blinding her. “But I am so afraid of Massa Hiram. I’m just waitin’ for him to run me off your home now that my pappy is gone. You knows how he must hate me bein’ there.”

  “Just remember that I also have a say in the matter,” Lavinia said, again thrust back in time to the moment when she saw Hiram carrying Virgil in his arms.

  Somehow it still did not seem real…that Virgil was gone from her life.

  Heaven forbid if she were to lose her precious Dorey, too!

  Chapter Twelve

  Ask me no more; thy fate and

  Mine are seal’d.

  I strove against the stream and

  All in vain.

  —Alfred, Lord Tennyson

  The flame of the torch which had been tied to the front of Dorey’s canoe fluttered in the soft breeze, casting wavering light around the canoe and into the water.

  As Dorey paddled onward with the light of the torch her only guide, and with fear her only companion, relief flooded her when she suddenly saw a golden glow up ahead in the low-hanging clouds. Surely that light came from the reflection of an outdoor fire.

  She was even now aware of the savory smell of roasted meat, making her stomach growl fiercely. She had not taken time to eat the fruit the two young braves had left in the tree house for her.

  The urge to escape had been the strongest drive she felt at the time, not for food.

  Thus far she had escaped being attacked by panthers, alligators, or snakes, but she had almost lost hope of finding civilization again as she became more and more lost in the maze of swampy waterways.

  Now she finally began to believe she might survive after all. Following the light in the sky, she paddled harder.

  When she rounded a bend in the river, she saw an island that looked as though it had been magically placed there by God for her to find.

  And then a thought came to her that gave her mixed feelings. This was surely the hidden island that so many people talked about.

  This must be Mystic Island!

  From what she knew, a lone clan of Seminole had escaped to this island when the American government began rounding up Indians to send them to reservations.

  This Seminole clan had eluded the American soldiers, and had made their home where no one dared venture…where a white panther was rumored to keep guard over the island.

  And now she had happened upon it.

  Fear seemed to have numbed her insides at the thought of how she might be treated if the Seminole people were to see her so close to their private domain. But she had no choice except to land on the island and find her way to a place where she could hide until she figured out how to find her way back home.

  Surely the island was large enough for one more person.

  She grabbed the torch and lowered the flames intothe water, extinguishing them so that no one would notice her approach.

  She paused awhile longer as she tried to get her bearings and decide where to beach the canoe. From what she could see beneath the fitful light of the moon, this was a large island.

  But the view of the village itself was hidden by thick brush and tall trees, hung with beautiful lacy moss.

  She had no idea where she should go on the island once she left the canoe, and only hoped that no one saw her.

  She was afraid, yet knew she must find shelter on the island somehow. She must hide from her two captors, for surely the young braves made their home on Mystic Island.

  There were no other Indian villages near her home. Her pulse racing, her throat dry from fear, Dorey paddled onward.

  Her fingers trembled as she clutched the paddle.

  She had spotted a deserted section of sandy beach. There were no other canoes beached there, so it seemed unlikely that hers would be found.

  After she had finally landed, she began to make her way through the thick brush. The moon came out from behind the clouds, providing enough light for her to see by.

  It seemed forever before she came to a clearing, where she found herself at the edge of a huge garden. Shoulder-high corn was the most prominent crop growing there.

  She found shelter amid the cornstalks as she ranonward, then stopped and stared when she came to the edge of the cornfield and saw many dome-shaped homes, and a huge fire burning in the center of the village.

  She could hear voices but she didn’t see anyone. It seemed that everyone had retired for the night in their lodges.

  That worked in Dorey’s favor. There was a good chance she would be able to find a place to stay the night without being discovered.

  She knew she didn’t want to sleep on the ground, not where wild animals might sniff her out during the night.

  She stepped farther from the cornfield, her eyes searching around her. And then she saw something promising.

  It was another dome-shaped house, located just past the garden, but it was built high on a platform. A ladder leaned against it to provide access.

  There was no lamplight coming from within, nor any fire, so she gathered that it wasn’t a place where people lived.

  With a sigh of relief, Dorey scampered up the steps of the ladder.

  When she reached the door that led into the house, she hurried inside, then stopped and gazed slowly around her.

  The moonlight coming through the open door revealed that this was a storage place of some sort, probably for harvested crops. During her quiet hours of reading in bed at night, she had found the study of Indians
interesting, especially since her family hadmoved to the plantation, where Seminole people lived nearby.

  During her reading about the Seminole, she had discovered that their harvested crops were stored in a place called a garita.

  She was glad to have found not only a place to hide, but also one where there might be something to eat.

  In the next moment she stifled a scream behind a hand as a mouse scampered from hiding. It fled through the door, just past Dorey’s feet.

  Grateful that she had had the sense to cover her mouth when she screamed, and relieved that the mouse had disappeared, Dorey crept further into the house. She found herself staring down at various kinds of melons stored among other foods there.

  The sight made her belly growl, and without any more thought of being afraid, Dorey sat down on the wooden floor and reached for a delicious-looking golden melon.

  She broke it open and gobbled up big bites of the juicy fruit. She thought she had never tasted anything so wonderfully delicious. But then again, never had she been so hungry either.

  She felt blessed to have found this place.

  Once her hunger was sated, Dorey realized just how much today’s adventure had taken out of her. She was absolutely worn out.

  In her exhaustion, her fear was forgotten.

  She felt safe here, at least until tomorrow when the people of this village would begin their dailychores, which might include bringing crops up into their storage house.

  But she would worry about that later.

  Now she needed sleep.

  She wouldn’t even worry about mice. Usually mice were more afraid of humans than humans were afraid of them.

  She searched around and found a pile of pelts and blankets.

  She closed the door, then curled up in the blankets and fell asleep as the moon poured its light down through the cracks in the ceiling.

  She would worry about tomorrow…tomorrow!

  Chapter Thirteen

  Man’s love is of man’s life

  A thing apart,

  ’Tis woman’s whole existence.

  —Lord Byron

  Lavinia was downhearted that she had found no trace of Dorey anywhere. And the hour was getting later and later.

  She had traveled much farther from her home than she knew was safe. She paused in her paddling and hung her head.

  The light from the lantern that Twila held revealed to the girl the despair on Lavinia’s face. It matched the feeling of hopelessness that Twila, too, was feeling at having not found Dorey.

  “She’s gone, Twila,” Lavinia said, her voice breaking. “She seems to have disappeared into thin air.”

  “Watch out, ma’am!” Twila suddenly screamed.

  But it was already too late. A snake had uncoiled itself from an overhead limb and tumbled down onto Lavinia.

  It quickly bit her on the arm, then slid away over the side of the canoe and into the water.

  By the light of the lamp reflecting in the water, Twila watched, stunned, as the snake slithered away.

  Then she turned and stared disbelievingly at Lavinia. Her mistress was clutching her arm where the snake had bitten her.

  “Take the knife from my sheath, Twila,” Lavinia said, already feeling dizzy from the poison spreading through her bloodstream. “Do…what…you’ve been…taught to do in case of a snakebite.”

  Twila still only stared.

  But when Lavinia fell forward in a faint, her hand falling free of the snakebite, Twila knew exactly what she must do.

  Her mammy and pappy, as well as Lavinia, had told her what to do if she was ever bitten by a snake.

  Her heart pounding, hoping that she remembered those instructions correctly, and that she had the courage to do what she must in order to save Lavinia’s life, Twila set the lantern on the floor of the canoe close to Lavinia. Then she fell to her knees beside her.

  Twila slowly turned Lavinia over so that she lay on her back.

  Lavinia’s eyes were tightly closed, and Twila feared that she might already be dying. So many snakes in this area were poisonous.

  She knew what she must do. And quickly!

  Her fingers trembling, Twila first tore the sleeve of Lavinia’s blouse away from the bite. Blood was oozing from it.

  She then took Lavinia’s knife from its sheath.

  She gazed heavenward. “Sweet Jesus, have mercy and guide me to do what’s right for Lavinia,” sheprayed. “Guide my hand, Jesus. Please guide my hand.”

  No matter how much praying she might do, Twila knew that nothing was going to stop her hand from trembling as she placed the blade to the wound.

  She continued praying beneath her breath, over and over again, as she cut into Lavinia’s delicate flesh.

  Then she dropped the knife.

  Trembling from her head to her toes, Twila leaned over and placed her mouth on the wound. She almost vomited from the vile taste of the blood. But she did what she knew must be done.

  Twila sucked, then spit, sucked, then spit, until she had gotten all the venom she could from the wound.

  She grabbed the paddle, sat down on the seat, and began drawing the paddle frantically through the water.

  Everything was so dark around her. The light of the moon could not penetrate the thick foliage here, and the lantern made only a feeble glow. She feared she would be next to be attacked.

  The river had narrowed somewhat, and she could see green eyes here and there peering at her from the darkness along the riverbank.

  Twila had no skill to turn the canoe around, so she continued paddling the canoe forward. Her only hope was that eventually she might run into that island she had heard so much about…Mystic Island, the home of the Seminole.

  She was more afraid of Lavinia dying than of coming face-to-face with Indians.

  Fear held her in its grip, and Twila swallowed hard. She fought back more tears as she traveled down the river.

  Her eyes widened when she saw the light of a torch up ahead; it was coming toward her on the river!

  Someone else was on the river tonight, and she didn’t care who it was, only prayed they would offer help.

  Twila began screaming “Help” over and over again as she continued to paddle.

  She felt hopeful now as the light from the torch in the other canoe came closer and closer. Finally she could make out someone sitting in that canoe.

  And then her eyes widened and her heart soared with happiness. The torch revealed someone that she could hardly believe!

  Her pappy!

  He was in the canoe with an Indian warrior and two young boys.

  She dropped the paddle and held the lantern up as high as she could so that her pappy and those with him could see her.

  “Pappy!” she cried. “Pappy! I be here in de canoe. Pappy! You ain’t dead!”

  “Twila?”

  Hearing her father’s voice, knowing that he was alive after all, and oh, so close, Twila began crying and waving the lantern. “Pappy, oh, Pappy, it is me,” she cried. “It’s Twila!”

  Wolf Dancer gazed at the child, astonished to see her there, alone, in waters that could be treacherous to adults, let alone children.

  Had she escaped the plantation? Was she running away from her master?

  The realization that this was Joshua’s daughter made Wolf Dancer smile. With one more stroke of his paddle he brought his canoe up to the side of the one in which Twila was kneeling.

  Joshua lifted Twila from it after she placed the lantern at the bottom of her canoe. He hugged her, assuring her that he was very much alive.

  Now that the lantern was on the floor of the canoe, Wolf Dancer was stunned at who else he saw. It was the white woman.

  She was stretched out on the bottom of the canoe, unconscious, one sleeve of her blouse ripped open, revealing a wound to his searching eyes.

  “She was bit by a snake,” Twila cried. “Please save her. Please?”

  She clung to her father as he hugged her tightly. It was a miracle that
in her desperation to find someone to help Lavinia, she had found her very own pappy, alive and well!

  She gazed bashfully at the two young braves who sat together quietly at the far end of the canoe.

  She then looked at her father again.

  “I did what I could for Lavinia, Pappy, but was it enough?” Twila asked anxiously. “Is she gonna die? Please don’t allow it.”

  Wolf Dancer understood the urgency of the situation now that he’d heard what had happened.

  He moved into the canoe with Lavinia.

  He nodded at Joshua. “Take the young braves and your daughter back to the village in my canoe. I will follow in this one,” he said quickly.

  “Please tell me she’s not gonna die,” Twila cried, looking down at Lavinia, and then up at the Indian. “Just hush, darlin’,” Joshua said. He understood the seriousness of this situation and knew not to disturb Wolf Dancer. “Chief Wolf Dancer knows what to do.”

  He put Twila on the seat behind him, then picked up the paddle and set out ahead of Wolf Dancer, paddling back toward the village.

  Not missing a stroke with his paddle, Wolf Dancer sent his canoe swiftly through the water, his eyes glancing time and again at Lavinia. As long as he could see her breathing, he knew she was alive.

  He looked up at Joshua, glad that he was strong enough to man the paddle as he continued ahead of Wolf Dancer’s canoe. When Wolf Dancer had given him the job, he wasn’t certain.

  But he should have known that Joshua could do it. The former slave was very muscular and had regained most of his strength.

  Wolf Dancer glared at the two young braves, then looked ahead again, focusing on the business at hand. He would see to the young braves later.

  “Chil’, why were you and Lavinia out at night in dese dangerous waters so far from home?” Joshua asked, still rhythmically pulling the paddle through the water.

  “It’s Dorey,” Twila said, gulping hard at thethought that she might never see her friend again. “She’s missin’. She went canoein’ and nevah came home again. Lavinia and I were lookin’ for her.”

  “Dorey?” Joshua said, glancing quickly over his shoulder at Twila. “Chil’, she’s who we were lookin’ for.”