“Thank you,” Whitney acknowledged, studying the woman again as she accepted a cup of coffee from Eagle. Katie wore jeans as did her brother, but her blouse was of colorful Indian design. The handiwork was intrinsic, with row after row of bright trim.
“We’re thrilled that you’re really interested,” Katie told her with an endearing eagerness. “When we first heard that T and C Development was willing to negotiate, we didn’t believe it, in all honesty,” she said apologetically. “My brother tells me that you’re even willing to try life in the Glades for a week.” Was Whitney imagining it, or did Katie really cast Eagle a reproachful glance?
“Thanks to your brother,” Whitney said wryly, “I’ve learned how ignorant I am.” The flutterings in her stomach were becoming gnawing pains. They had nothing to do with White Eagle; she was ravenously hungry! “What’s in the pan?” she inquired, sniffing.
“Good old Indian bacon and eggs,” Eagle said with his sardonic grin. “This is going to be your last ‘civilized’ meal for a while. And the last one I will be cooking. In Miccosukee society, the women still do the cooking.”
“I’m a good cook,” Whitney retorted, accepting the plate he handed her. His reply was a raised brow of amusement.
“Don’t let this man get to you,” Randy Harris said with a laugh at their interchange. “The Seminoles were counted in with the Five Civilized Tribes back in pioneer days. They were never given to caveman tactics and barbarism!”
Katie Eagle started to say something, but her brother quickly cut her off in their native tongue. Whitney glanced at them both with confusion, then at Randy. “That’s Miccosukee or ‘Hitchiti,’” he told her with a chuckle, “and I guarantee you, it’s not easy to learn! Then if you do learn it and meet up with the Cow Creek Seminoles, you have to start all over again. They speak Muskogee, like the Creeks from Oklahoma.”
Whitney smiled wanly. She had never even heard the word “Muskogee” before, nor did she know that Creeks lived in Oklahoma. “What are they talking about?” she asked him loudly, purposely interrupting the conversation that had grown animated between brother and sister. Not only did it seem rude, but she was sure they were discussing her.
“Can’t tell you,” Randy said with a shake of his head. “They’re speeding along too fast for me.”
“We disagree on the best way to introduce you to Indian life,” Eagle said smoothly. “Right, Katie?”
“Right,” his sister agreed with a sigh. “You will enjoy my grandmother, Whitney. She is hard-core Miccosukee.”
“That’s what Eagle says,” Whitney mused, wondering if there was a warning in the words. Still, she felt an element of safety in spite of her niggling suspicions. At least the sandy-haired man and Eagle’s friendly sister knew where she would be!
“Look!” Randy said suddenly, his voice a hush as he pointed across the lawn. “One of our peculiar beauties … a great white heron.”
Whitney followed his pointing finger and watched as the graceful bird closed its mighty wingspan and cocked its head to the breeze. The bird delicately balanced on a single foot for a second, a proud, immobile statue against the blue gold sky, then bunched its muscles and few into the horizon. It was a beautiful sight, Whitney silently agreed.
“Randy’s thing is birds,” Katie said.
“Wildlife,” Randy corrected, offering Whitney a wryly apologetic grin. “I can go off on tangents, so don’t let me.” He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket and offered them around. Thinking with surprise that she hadn’t missed smoking all night, Whitney gratefully accepted one and inhaled deeply. “Have to be real careful with these things in these parts,” Randy warned, indicating his cigarette and matches.
“You arrived at the tail end of the rainy season,” Eagle said as Whitney glanced with a frown at the wetness that surrounded their immediate dry circle. “For six months of the year we’re lucky if get a few inches of rain. A fire in the Glades can be a terrible thing. The earth itself burns.”
“I’ll be careful,” Whitney promised, pouring herself more coffee to accompany her cigarette.
“Maybe I’ll cure you of the habit before the week is out, anyway,” Eagle said, watching her expression as he leaned back on an elbow and musingly chewed on a blade of grass.
“Pardon?” Whitney looked at him suspiciously.
“You won’t be smoking.”
“Now wait a minute!” Whitney protested. “You keep making up new rules all the time! I didn’t make any promises regarding my personal habits!”
Eagle shrugged, imperially allowing her the slight concession. “You can bring whatever supply you have with you. I don’t want you running wild into the woods in the midst of a nicotine fit. You won’t find much time though, I think, to laze around with a cigarette.” He jumped suddenly to his feet and began collecting the dishes. “We have to get a move on. Your ‘swamp week’ is going to be exact. It starts at noon today and ends at noon in seven days. That is, if you make the first hour.”
“Oh, I will make it,” Whitney said sweetly, her eyes telling him what she thought he could do with his taunting cynicism. “I’ve told you that before.”
“She’s got the look of an eagle about her, too, my friend,” Randy said with a chuckle as he scrambled up to help White Eagle thoroughly douse the fire. “Watch it; she’ll beat you at your own game.”
“Maybe,” Eagle agreed good-naturedly, extending a hand to pull Whitney to her feet “I put a gallon of gas into your car this morning and pulled it around back,” he told her. “Go on and get anything else you’re going to need for your ‘personal habits.’ The keys are still in the ignition where you left them. We don’t have many thieves running around the neighborhood, but you might want to lock it up anyway.”
“Thanks,” Whitney said, dusting off the seat of her pants. “How are we going to get where we’re going?”
“Jeep and airboat,” Eagle said briefly, smiling. “Randy is the ‘brother’ I said was coming by. He and I will go hook up now. Go on—get ready.”
“I’ll come with you,” Katie offered.
“No!” Eagle snapped at his sister, softening his command with a pleasant request. “I’ll need you out here, if you don’t mind.”
Apparently Eagle was undisputed boss. Katie shrugged and lifted helpless hands to Whitney. “I guess I won’t get a chance to know you until next week. I stay with Morning Dew a lot myself, but I have to go back to Big Cypress with Randy now.”
If Katie didn’t have to go back to Big Cypress, Whitney decided dryly, she was certain White Eagle would find some other place to send her. It was obvious he didn’t want his sister involved in any deep discussions with her. Was he ashamed of anything, she wondered. That seemed doubtful. White Eagle was proud. He would declare what he was to the world and the devil himself could go hang.
“I’ll be looking forward to next week,” Whitney promised the Indian woman. Glancing across the lawn to where Eagle and Randy were about to round the corner of the cabin, Whitney saw that her host was staring crossly at his sister. “It looks like the big chief is summoning you,” she told Katie in a wry drawl. “I guess we will have to talk later.”
Katie chuckled, amused by the reference to her brother. “This isn’t good-bye yet. We’ll be dropping you off at the village. It really is remote.” Waving, she scampered off to join the men.
Whitney thoughtfully climbed the steps back to the cabin, realizing she had made grave mistakes in judgment where White Eagle was concerned. Obviously he and his soft-spoken sister had been well educated, and it was equally obvious he had some type of decent income. His books were expensive, his clothing quality. Airboats and jeeps were not cheap. Closing the door quietly behind her, Whitney glanced around the single room of the cabin and determined that a little snooping was in order. Rushing to his bureau, she hastily began to rifle through it.
She was doomed to disappointment. There wasn’t a single document, note or paper to be found. Absolutely nothing to
tell her who White Eagle was or what he did. The only reward she received for her labors was a verification of what she already knew; White Eagle did receive a good income for something. The labels on his clothing were all well-known, respected names.
“Looking for something?”
His cool voice from the doorway startled her so that she slammed her fingers into a drawer, yelped and spun around to meet his demand with guilt written clearly across her face. “I—uh—I—”
“Yes?”
“Socks!” Whitney blurted, watching the cynical interest in his unfathomable blue gaze. Was he angry? Sometimes it was impossible to tell. “Socks,” she repeated, lowering her squeaky tone to a more moderate pitch. “I only have the one pair with me and I was sure that you wouldn’t mind.”
“No, I don’t mind at all.” Sedately walking past her, he reached into a drawer and handed her a pair of neatly folded blue socks. The drawer, which Whitney had not had a chance to return to its original state, gave evidence of having been thoroughly searched. “Sorry you had such a rough time finding them,” Eagle said politely.
“Yes, well, uh, thank you,” Whitney stammered, backing away from him. “I’ll, uh, just run out and lock up the car.”
“Yes, do that,” Eagle agreed pleasantly.
With an artificial smile plastered to her face, Whitney continued to back to the doorway. She backed all way to the steps, then went crashing down them with a small, startled cry of alarm.
White Eagle was leaning over her before she had a chance to gather together either her bruised body or ego. “You really do need to learn to watch where you’re going,” he told her with mock concern. “Can I give you a hand?”
“No, you may not!” Whitney snapped from her totally undignified sprawl. Damn him! He had watched her! He had known perfectly well that her steps were leading her to the graceless fall.
“As you wish.” Shrugging, Eagle turned back into the cabin, a grin playing at the corner of his lips. Whitney winced and pushed the ground with her palms to propel her smarting flesh back to a stand. At least she hadn’t really harmed anything except her pride!
“Where are your things?” the voice bellowed irately from the cabin.
“Right there!” Whitney returned exasperated. “My travel bag and the case. They’re on the couch—”
White Eagle poked his head from the cabin with an incredulous expression of pure disbelief. “Whitney,” he groaned, “we are not going for a week to the Waldorf-Astoria. We are going into the swamp for you to assimilate a different culture. One change of clothing will be sufficient.”
“One change of clothing?” Whitney sputtered. “For a week?”
“In the most contemporary of societies,” Eagle said with pointed patience, “people do wash clothing.”
Glaring at him belligerently, Whitney limped back up the steps and furiously ripped open her suitcase. Grabbing a second pair of jeans and a shirt and a set of matching lacy panties and bra, she stuffed them into her overnight bag and shoved it into his arms. “I am bringing my toothbrush!” she declared haughtily. “I don’t feel like rotting my teeth for you to prove some elusive point!”
“By all means, bring your toothbrush,” Eagle said with a laugh. He flung the bag back to her and she caught it by reflex. “Sorry, no porters. You carry your own gear.” With a mocking bow and quick turnabout, he was out the door.
Throwing the leather shoulder bag over her arm, Whitney followed him outside. The jeep, a new though rugged vehicle, had been pulled around in front, with the large, propellered airboat in tow. Randy was at the wheel with Katie beside him, both patiently waiting.
“I’ll just be a second!” Whitney called, racing around the corner of the cabin. Her BMW had been pulled beneath a rear, partially sheltered overhang. Throwing open the driver’s door, she pulled her keys from the ignition and hurriedly glanced through the car. Retrieving several packs of cigarettes from the glove compartment, she decided there was nothing else she would need—or be allowed to take!
Eagle was waiting impatiently by the rear of the jeep, his fingers drumming a rhythm on the side of the metal door panel. “Move it, Miss Virginia!” he called. “The bog is awaiting you!”
Raising a brow and tilting her nose, Whitney slowed her speed to saunter toward the jeep. Eagle’s jaw was locked when she reached him, but he said nothing. Pulling her bag from her, he tossed it over the side of the jeep. Then he set the large span of his hands around her waist and hoisted her body over with the same ease before vaulting in himself. His arm stretched behind her as he said, “Better drive on, Randy, before she realizes she’s forgotten her Chanel No 5.”
Whitney was shivering even as she glared at him indignantly. She could still feel the imprint of his hands upon her ribs, as if his touch had been indelibly etched into her with searing heat. She could sense his arm, so casually lying behind her back, with every nerve of her flesh.
“Eagle!” Katie turned reproachful eyes to her brother, folding an arm over the rear of her seat so that she might converse with them. “Be nice! You like Chanel N° 5!” Eagle had no response.
As the jeep pulled along the same road Whitney had stumbled upon the night before, Katie and Randy explained the terrain they would be covering. As well as the seemingly endless marshland of tall sawgrass, the Glades were also composed of high pine lands known as hammocks. The two highways that stretched across the swampland of the southern tip of the state, the Trail and Alligator Alley, had made many areas easily accessible, but there were still countless miles of land that could only be navigated by airboat or canoe. “Many independent Miccosukees live right along the Trail,” Katie said, “but the Eagle clan lives deep in the woods.”
Whitney leaned forward eagerly in her seat. Katie was a wonderful source of information, and their journey might end at any time. “Tell me something about your family,” she begged, mindless of Eagle’s stoic expression beside her. “Are your parents living?”
“My father is—” Katie began.
“Katie!” Eagle barked. “I’m sure Miss Latham isn’t interested in our dubious bloodlines.”
“I’m just going to tell her how they met!” Katie retorted, smiling at Whitney. “My mother and grandmother had marvelously romantic marriages! My mother’s father was a businessman who came to the Glades to hunt. He became entranced by the honesty and high moral code of the Miccosukees, and finally the Eagle family grew to respect and trust him in return. Morning Dew fell head over heels in love with him and—at a time when marriage outside the tribe was unheard of—she defied her father and uncles to be with him. But my grandfather loved her very deeply, too. Instead of demanding that she desert her home, he embraced the life of the Miccosukees and gave up his own society.”
“That is romantic!” Whitney chuckled. “What about your mother and father?”
Eagle muttered some sort of expletive beside her, but Whitney ignored him. Katie glanced at him with a wounded, I-know-what-I’m-doing expression and continued.
“My father was a charter pilot. He was en route to the Keys from Tampa when his plane went down in the Everglades. He was lost, delirious and barely conscious when my mother found him. She was a beautiful woman, and Dad says he fell in love as soon as he opened his eyes to find her tenderly nursing his wounds. They were married both by tribal law and in my father’s church.”
Whitney had a dozen more questions to ask, but White Eagle had had enough. Sitting up in the seat, he put his arm around Whitney’s shoulders and forced her attention to the road. “We’re making a left here to get down to the Trail,” he said. “Straight ahead, you would come to North Naples.” Obviously intending that she not have a chance to open her mouth again, he rapidly began pointing out the abundance of birds and foliage surrounding the road, naming things so quickly she was sure she wouldn’t remember a word. Then the jeep turned again, and within minutes they were pulling off the road. They had arrived at a small Indian village. Bright, neatly printed signs announced that v
isitors were welcome, and on the outskirts of the slatted pine enclosure were two large, modern gas pumps. Whitney started to smile with inner relief. They weren’t going to be so terribly isolated after all!
“This isn’t where we are staying.” The laughing whisper in her ear sent mixed shivers of apprehension and delight tingling along the length of her spine. Eagle had an uncanny habit of reading her thoughts.
“Airboat from here,” Randy said cheerfully, hopping from the jeep. “Katie could take you into the village for a minute, though—”
“She can see the village next week,” Eagle said, vaulting out of the vehicle to join Randy. “You two have to get back.”
“I’d like to see the village now—” Whitney began, determined to voice her opinion.
“No time,” Eagle shouted from the rear, where he was busily disengaging the airboat. “Don’t worry, it won’t go away.”
Whitney suddenly wished that White Eagle would find a quicksand pit and sink into it. He was drawing her into a trap, one she could see clearly, yet she was powerless to stop the bars from closing around her. He wasn’t forcing her deeper into the Glades; it was if he had somehow magnetized her. He kept making up the rules, and she kept following them. What else could she do? If she demanded that they see the village now, she would be the one to appear petulant and domineering! Sound reasoning had been given her—there wasn’t time.
But there was more to it than that. She just didn’t know what. Either I have swamp fever or I’ve gone crazy, Whitney told herself with disgust. No, that wasn’t true. She was going into the swamp because she sincerely cared about her job and the people it involved.
Liar! A voice spoke from her heart with an impetus she couldn’t control. She was going because she had never been so fascinated by a man before in her life, and if White Eagle had challenged her to join him for a flight to Pluto, she would have found an excuse to hop right into the rocket …
“Are you with us?”
Startled, Whitney jumped and turned to Eagle with guilty eyes, praying he hadn’t read her thoughts again.
Tender Taming Page 5