“Is . . . Clara . . . dying?”
“We are doing what we can,” was all that he said.
“Did you receive my wires?” Hannah asked, tears rushing from her eyes. “Am I the cause of you being on this horrid boat?”
“What wires?” her father asked, forking an eyebrow.
“Then, you are here for another purpose than my marriage to Strong Wolf?” Hannah said, searching his tired eyes for answers.
“Marriage?” her father gasped. “To an Indian?”
She meekly nodded.
“No,” he said, wearily. “I did not receive such a wire as that. We . . . are here . . . for a much different purpose than that.”
“Why, Father?” Hannah asked. “Why?”
“Your mother and I accompanied Clara on the journey,” he said, his voice breaking. “You see, Hannah, Clara made a decision we did not approve of, yet we supported her, since she was so determined to do it.”
“What . . . decision . . . ?” Hannah asked softly.
“She wants to teach Indian children,” he blurted. “She was on her way to the Potawatomis village. She is going to teach there.”
His eyes lowered. “She was going to,” he said, swallowing hard. “Now . . . I . . . don’t know. We had no idea that someone came aboard who was ill with cholera. Damn it, the disease spread through the passengers like wildfire. Clara? She helped with the ill. Now?” He hung his head in his hands. “Now, I just don’t know.”
Hannah was dumbstruck by the news.
Then panic filled Hannah’s eyes. “Strong Wolf,” she whispered. “His people.” Eyes wide, she stared up at her father. “Oh, Lord, Father. I must go to Strong Wolf and tell him what’s happening on this boat. I can’t chance him coming aboard. He might get cholera. The disease might even be carried back to his people. Indians are known to have a weak resistance against white man’s diseases. Lord, Father, it could wipe out his whole village!”
Although she was anxious to go and see her sister and mother, Hannah’s thoughts lingered on the man she loved.
She turned and ran down the gangplank just as Strong Wolf had begun to walk up it. She grabbed his hand and led him quickly from the gangplank, and then away from the boat.
She then spun around and faced him. “Strong Wolf, please take your warriors and return home,” she said in a rush of words. “Many on board the boat are ill. They have cholera. You can’t chance getting the dreadful disease. You can’t chance carrying the germ back to your people! Please leave! I must rush back to my sister’s side. She . . . she . . . is quite ill with the cholera herself.”
“Cholera?” Strong Wolf said, his jaws slack with the horrid knowledge of what this meant, not only to his people, but also to Hannah. He grabbed her shoulders. “You cannot go back on that boat! Come with me. Protect yourself against the disease! Hannah, you are my world!”
She placed a gentle hand on his cheek. “Darling, don’t you know?” she murmured. “I was on the ship long enough to have already been exposed. Now I must remain on board with the others. If I chance to come through the crisis all right, and the crisis is over for everyone, only then shall I come to you with open arms.”
She wrenched herself tree from his grip. “Now, go, Strong Wolf,” she said, taking slow, shaky steps away from him. “Please. Your people’s future lies in your hands.”
“My future includes you at my side,” Strong Wolf pleaded. “Come with me. You can live separate from my people until we see whether or not you contract the disease. But do not chance getting exposed again! Do not go aboard that boat again.”
“My sister needs me,” Hannah murmured. “And, Strong Wolf, don’t you see? I have to be there for her, to care for her. She has come to teach your children.” She paused, then gazed wistfully up at him. “Why didn’t you tell me that a teacher would soon arrive to teach your children? Did you know that it was going to be my sister?”
“No, I did not know the name of the woman who was assigned to come to my village to teach,” Strong Wolf said, glancing nervously up at the ship as someone screamed in despair. Surely someone’s beloved had just crossed over to the other side.
Hannah’s insides grew cold at the sound. She closed her eyes and said a soft prayer for her sister.
Strong Wolf gazed at Hannah again as she lifted her wavering eyes to his. “Of late, things have become too hectic to remember to tell you about the plans to have our children taught ways of counting and reading,” he softly explained. “And it seems as though they just keep getting more and more complicated.”
Hannah only half heard what Strong Wolf was saying. Her thoughts were on her sister. She needed to be at her sister’s side. Even though she knew her father didn’t want her on the boat, he would take this opportunity to show her just how skilled she could be at caring for the ill. He surely still dreamed of her going to medical school.
It was futile to try and explain to him that nothing he did or said would sway her decision from marrying Strong Wolf. She had her own life to lead; her own desires to fulfill. And she would follow her heart into marriage with Strong Wolf.
She swallowed hard at the thought of that possibly never happening now. If she contracted cholera, everything they had dreamed could be gone, forever.
Knowing that, as far as her sister was concerned, every minute counted, Hannah gazed with a deep longing at Strong Wolf. “I love you so,” she cried, then turned and fled back up the gangplank.
When she reached the deck, she turned and gazed at Strong Wolf. “Please leave!” she cried. “And please don’t worry about me. I shall be all right!”
He gave her one last lingering look, then ran to his horse and swung himself into his saddle.
“Let us return to our people!” Strong Wolf said glumly. He flicked his reins and rode away in a gallop, then slowed his horse to a trot as he rode past Tiny and met him eye to eye.
Tiny sneered at him.
Strong Wolf looked arrows at him, then rode away, his heart aching to know that this might be the last time he would have been with Hannah. He knew the chances of her not surviving the dreaded disease.
But he also knew that nothing he could have said would have made her turn her back on her family. He was proud of her loyalty to her family, knowing that one day soon, if fate allowed it, her true, undying loyalty would be to him, her husband.
Hannah watched Strong Wolf ride away, tears streaming down her cheeks. This might be the last time she saw him. If she got cholera, and . . .
Her father came and took her by the hand, but she still did not go with him just yet. When she saw Tiny ride up closer to the boat, panic again filled her.
Chuck! Through all of this, she had forgotten about her brother!
She couldn’t allow Chuck to come to the boat of death. He was frail as it was. If he contracted the disease, he would never survive!
Hannah ran back down the gangplank. She went to Tiny as he sat on his horse, staring down at her. She pleaded up at him with her eyes. “I never thought that I would ever ask a favor of you,” she said, her voice breaking. “But I must. Tiny, everyone on board this boat has cholera, My parents and sister are on the boat. My sister is quite ill. Please go to Chuck. Explain things to him. Tell him that I am staying here, to help my father take care of those who are ill. Please tell my brother not to worry, and please tell him not to come here. He could get cholera. He isn’t a well man. He might die! You must give me your word that you will keep my brother from coming. Please, Tiny. Please?”
Tiny paled as he stared up at the boat, then smiled crookedly down at Hannah. “Well, now, Hannah,” he said, chuckling. “It seems things have changed, doesn’t it? You, the high and mighty sister who came to look after her brother, is now havin’ to beg the man she loathes.” He scooted his hat back from his brow and leaned down into her face. “I like it. Yeah, I kind’a like it.”
“You would take advantage of the situation,” Hannah said, sighing heavily. “And I was stupid to ask such a thing of you. It woul
d be to your advantage if my brother did die. You’d be able to alter all of the books in your favor before anyone who knows beans about bookkeeping could come and take a look at them.”
“Are you callin’ me a cheat?” Tiny growled, his eyes narrowing.
“I call them like I see them,” Hannah said, placing her hands on her hips. Then her eyes softened. “Tiny, you are the only person I can depend on at this time to make sure Chuck is taken care of. If you do him wrong, I’ll make sure you hang!”
“Threats?” Tiny said, forking an eyebrow. “Miss stuck-up, you pick a crazy time to hand me threats.”
“I give up,” Hannah said, flailing her hands in the air. She stamped away, then softened inside when Tiny spoke up behind her.
“All right, Hannah,” he said in a civil tone. “I’ll go and tell Chuck what’s happened. And don’t fret none. I’ll look after him, fair and square.”
Hannah turned tear-filled eyes at him. “Thank you,” she murmured, then broke into a run and hurried back aboard the ship.
She embraced her mother, so grateful that she had not yet been affected by the disease.
Then when she went to the cabin in which her sister lay so ill and pale, her breathing raspy, Hannah covered her mouth with her hands and emitted a soft cry of despair.
“Clara!” she cried. “Oh, Lord, Clara!”
Chapter 31
’Tis very sweet to look into the fair
And open face of heaven—to breathe a prayer
Full in the smile of the blue firmament.
—JOHN KEATS
Several days had passed since Hannah had immersed herself in helping those who were ill. Every day she had watched for the symptoms of cholera in her parents, as well as herself.
And thus far, they had not contracted the dreaded disease.
Although exhausted, Hannah and her parents had tended to Clara and the others with scarcely a wink of sleep.
Needing a bath, her hair full of tangles, Hannah watched her father as he came toward her, equally disheveled. He had hardly let up on her since the day they had begun caring for the ill together. He had told her time and again that she was proving just how much compassion she had for people, and how skilled she was at caring for them.
Today, when she could hardly hold her eyes open for lack of sleep, she attempted to walk away from her father.
But he was too quick.
Especially since her knees were almost too weak to hold her up.
“Take a look around you, Hannah,” Howard said, gesturing with a hand toward cots of people who were recovering. “If not for your tender care, their graves would be added to those who died.”
“Yes, Father,” Hannah said, her voice drawn. “I know. And I’m proud.”
She blinked her eyes, in an effort to stay awake.
She swayed somewhat, then grabbed for the back of a chair to steady herself.
“Then, Hannah, surely you must see how much you are needed in the medical field,” Howard urged, his eyes pleading with her.
“Father, I understand how you feel,” she murmured. “But please. Not today. Please don’t start on me again today. I . . . need . . . to go and get some sleep now that the crisis has passed for everyone.”
She gazed over at Clara, who was awake and taking nourishment as Hannah’s mother slowly fed her sips of broth from a spoon. “And thank God Clara is going to be all right,” she murmured. “Had she died, I just don’t know . . .”
“But she didn’t die,” her father said, interrupting her. “And she owes that in part, to you.”
“Father, I only did . . .” Hannah said, but he again interrupted her.
“Hannah,” he said, gently gripping her shoulders as he gazed into her weary eyes. “Admit it. Let me hear you say that you know you are skilled at caring for people. You have proven that you could be a doctor. You must forget that crazed idea of marrying an Indian. Go to school. Get your license. Come and join my medical practice. Let me have something to brag about, honey. Let me show you off to the world.”
“Are you saying that if I don’t become a doctor, you won’t have anything nice to say about me?” Hannah asked, her heart aching because he had such a narrow, one-tracked mind. “That if I don’t become a doctor, you would rather disown me?”
Her father paled. He dropped his hands to his sides. “No,” he said shallowly. “I didn’t say that at all.”
“Well, that’s how it sounded to me,” Hannah said, lifting her chin stubbornly.
Again she blinked her eyes.
They were so heavy from lack of sleep.
She felt dizzy from it.
All she wanted now, since she knew that Clara was going to be all right, was to sleep for weeks!
Her father gazed down at her. He took her hand and led her outside, on top deck, where the air was sweet and fresh; the sky was clear and blue.
Hannah breathed it all in and said a soft prayer to herself that for the most part, this nightmare was over and would soon be totally behind her. She would resume her life again, a life with the man she loved. Oh, how she had missed Strong Wolf these past dreary days.
Howard drew her into his warm embrace. “Honey, don’t purposely misinterpret what I am saying,” he said softly. “But surely you don’t want to be a mere Indian’s squaw when you could go to school and be a doctor. You would be admired. You would be helpful to those who needed you.”
Hannah found the strength, perhaps the last of her strength, to wrench herself from her father’s arms. “Father, do you realize that I am old enough to know my own mind?” she said, sighing heavily. “Yet you are still trying to tell me what to do. You are still hellbent on running my life. And please listen to me when I say that I am going to be with the man I love. He needs me. I need him.”
“I . . . don’t . . . want you to marry a damn savage,” Howard blurted, his eyes dark with fury. “Your life is worth more than that, Hannah. Much more than that!”
Stunned by how he had referred to Strong Wolf as a savage, Hannah took an unsteady step away from him. “How dare you,” she said, her voice trembling. “Strong Wolf is . . .”
Having pulled the last ounce from inside her to fight for her rights, Hannah felt a keen light-headedness quickly seize her.
She grabbed for the chair again, but missed it.
A black void enwrapping her, she sank to the floor in a dead faint.
“Hannah!” Howard gasped. He fell to his knees and gathered her into his arms.
Grace had come on top deck and stood in the shadows, listening to the debate between daughter and father. She went to Howard, her tired eyes glaring. “You just couldn’t leave her alone, could you?” she accused. “Why can’t you let it be, Howard? Hannah is no longer your little girl. She is a grown lady. And she is going to marry Strong Wolf.”
Her hands were soft on Hannah’s brow. “My sweet, precious daughter,” she said, sighing with relief when Hannah’s brow was cool to the touch. “Thank goodness she’s not ill. She’s just completely worn herself out.” She glared up at Howard. “And not only from working so hard day in and out these past several days. From listening to you, Howard.”
Howard carried Hannah to his cabin and placed her gently on his bunk.
Grace knelt down beside the bunk and kissed Hannah’s brow. “Sleep, darling Hannah,” she whispered. “When you awaken, you will be with the man you love.”
Howard gasped. “What?” he said, his eyes locking in silent battle with his wife as she turned glaring eyes up at him.
“Now that the crisis is over and the danger has passed, I am going to ask someone to take Hannah to Strong Wolf,” Grace said. “And don’t try and stop me. I imagine that man is almost out of his mind with worry over Hannah. We’ve kept her from him long enough.”
She rose shakily to her feet, herself feeling faint with exhaustion. “And we’re going to take Clara to Chuck’s ranch this morning,” she said. “We are no longer needed on this boat. And the crew has managed to
get it dislodged from the sandbar. It can now be on its way downriver.”
“Suddenly you are telling me and everyone else what to do?” Howard said incredulously.
“It’s about time, I’d say,” Grace said stiffly, defying him with a sleady stare. “Yes, it’s about time I became my own person who speaks her own mind. Thank God, Hannah has learned earlier than I. She’ll be much happier for it.”
She looked at Hannah for a moment, then cast her husband another tired, but determined gaze over her shoulder. “And she’ll have much more respect from her husband,” she said, her voice breaking.
Chapter 32
Toiling,—rejoicing,—sorrowing,
Onward through life he goes.
—HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
The room was deep in shadow as the sun rose and Tiny slowly opened the door to Chuck’s office. He tensed when the door squeaked ominously in the early morning hours; Chuck should still be asleep.
Tiny scarcely breathed as he looked over his shoulder at the closed door to Chuck’s bedroom across the hall. He listened carefully for the sound of Chuck’s cane against the wood floor.
He didn’t hear it. Tiny’s eyes narrowed. He went on inside the office.
He gave the door a questioning stare. He would feel much more secure if he could close it, yet it was too dangerous to chance making it squeak again. Since Chuck’s eyesight had weakened, his other senses had been strengthened: namely his hearing.
Knowing that time was of the essence, Tiny tiptoed across the room to the desk. His fingers trembled as he opened one ledger, and then another.
At any moment the rooster in the barnyard would crow. The rooster was Chuck’s morning alarm and had never failed to wake him.
Tiny smiled when he found the ledger he was after. This was the only one that had not yet been altered in his favor.
Dollar by dollar, Tiny had stolen that which he had erased from the finances shown in the journals. Soon he would disappear, and no one would be able to trace him, or Chuck’s money.
Tiny had given up believing that he could ever own Chuck’s land—the land that bordered the Potawatomis’s. Now that Chuck’s relatives were involved, Tiny had lost all opportunities of taking anything but cash money.
Wild Thunder Page 20