I’m a fool, she thought. Thank goodness she’d had sense enough to keep her virginity for the marriage bed. Something that Jordan will never have from me now. Something the widow had given up long before she’d ever met Jordan. But now the widow had used her own experience with men to seduce and lure away Rachel’s betrothed.
Pain lanced within Rachel’s breast, making her stomach hurt and her head spin. She had to forget Jordan. She didn’t need him. In fact, she didn’t need any man. Her sister didn’t have a husband or lover. She didn’t need—or want—one either.
A teardrop escaped to drip onto Rachel’s cheek, and she quickly dashed it away before Miranda or her uncle could see it. I have a new life to dead. Father and Amelia will need help at the mission. I’ll be happy dedicating my life to helping others. She tried not to think of the husband she’d almost had and the children she would never conceive.
I’ll stay a virgin. The whole thing about the marriage bed sounded a little frightening anyway.
She sighed. But she would have liked to try it, at least, just once.
As the morning wore on, Rachel’s traveling party ventured into the wilderness with forests and scenery more rugged and beautiful than any they’d encountered before. As the trees thickened, and Rupert steered the wagon along a narrow path that was just large enough for the conveyance, Rachel studied her surroundings with unease.
“Is this Indian country?” she asked Rupert in a hushed voice.
“Yep,” he replied without looking at her.
Rachel glanced in the back of the wagon, and was only slightly reassured by the sight of Rupert’s double-barreled rifle lying behind the man’s end of the seat. She wanted to ask Miranda’s uncle if he knew how to use the weapon, but she knew it would be a foolish question. It was obvious that the man had to be an excellent marksman to have survived this long in this wilderness.
“Are the Indians friendly, Uncle Rupert?” Miranda asked.
“Some are, some aren’t,” Rupert replied.
Rachel saw that her friend wasn’t concerned.
Why can’t I be like Miranda? Instead I’m nervous and scared. Miranda must truly believe in her uncle’s ability to keep us safe.
“Are we in any danger?” Rachel asked.
“Life is dangerous,” he said. “A lightning strike in a storm. A carriage accident on a busy street.”
She sensed Miranda’s gaze and turned to look at her. “Aren’t you worried?”
Miranda nodded. “Of course I am. But, I also know my uncle. He’s the best there is. We’ll be safe enough until we reach the mission.”
That night they camped out in the open for the first time. Rupert found a clearing beneath a stand of trees. There he instructed the young women to spread their sleeping pallets.
“I don’t like this,” Rachel muttered to Miranda as she unrolled the quilts that would serve as her bed that night. “There are wild animals out there. What if one of them comes and eats us in the night?”
Rupert hooted with laughter from a short distance away. “I don’t reckon you’ll sleep through it if one does!” Chuckling, the man walked back to the wagon to unload some supplies.
“Miranda, I’m scared.”
“Don’t worry. Uncle Rupert will watch out for us while we sleep. He’ll build a fire to keep the animals away.”
“But when will he sleep?” And the Indians? she thought. What will keep the savages away?
Miranda shrugged. “He’ll probably nap some of the time, I suppose. But he’s a very light sleeper,” she quickly assured her frightened friend.
Rupert shot a rabbit for dinner. After a meal of rabbit stew, he told the girls stories as they sat around the campfire, while dusk turned into the darkness of night. Despite her initial fear of sleeping out in the wild, Rachel found herself caught up in Uncle Rupert’s tale of the time he’d spent five days with Indians. Every once in a while, the sounds of the night invaded Rachel’s sense of peace. When an owl hooted in the distance, Rupert paused in the middle of the tale to announce what the sound was, then promptly went back to his storytelling. After several such occasions, Rachel no longer started when she heard a new forest sound. She listened with rapt interest to Miranda’s uncle as he related the story of one adventure after another.
“You young ladies had best turn in,” Rupert said after finishing his fifth story. “We’ve a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
Rachel’s heart thumped hard as she nodded and stood. “Good night, Mr. Clark. Thank you for sharing your stories with us.”
Rupert nodded. “My pleasure, Miss Dempsey.”
“Please call me Rachel. It’s strange, but I suddenly feel as if I’ve known you a long time.”
“I’m glad,” he said, while Miranda beamed at the both of them. “I’d be pleased if you’d call me Uncle Rupert like my Miranda here.”
Rachel smiled. “Good night, Uncle Rupert.”
“Good night, Rachel. Good night, Miranda.”
After the last exchange of good nights, Rachel and Miranda climbed into their bedrolls. Rupert stoked up the fire, then with his rifle across his lap, sat and kept watch.
It didn’t take Rachel long to get comfortable, a fact that surprised her. She lay, staring at the lush canopy of green foliage overhead, looking for a glimpse of the stars in a break in the trees. That night the moon was bright and was nearly full. The light and Rupert’s presence had a calming effect on her, and soon she closed her eyes to get some sleep.
Later, she wasn’t sure what had woken her, but she felt no alarm as she opened her eyes and saw that it was still night. The sound of wood in the fire crackling and popping convinced her that Rupert was awake and at watch. Reassured, Rachel rolled over and went back to sleep without glancing at him.
A while later, she felt something in her hair—a light touch that dragged her from the depths of sleep. Believing that a breeze had begun to stir the forest, she opened her eyes, then gasped at the sight of an Indian standing above her. The savage was clad in only a loincloth with leggings. His dark eyes glinted in the darkness as he stared down at her. His hair was black and hung past his shoulders. In the moonlight, his face looked as if it had been etched from raw earth. A copper band encircled his upper right arm. Her heart stopped, then beat faster, as she saw the knife in his right hand. Terrified, unable to move or scream, she could only gaze back at the brave.
Rachel caught her breath as the Indian crouched at her side and lifted a lock of her unbound hair. The brave grunted with pleasure as he tugged on the silky strands.
She began to tremble with fear. “What do you want?” she whispered.
His gaze narrowing, the Indian rose. Rachel was afraid to look away, toward Miranda and her uncle, terrified that she might find he’d already murdered them.
She sat up slowly, carefully. “What do you want? Please, can’t you just leave us alone!”
“Gichi-mookomaanikwe.”
“I don’t understand! What do you want?” She started to rise. The brave raised his knife threateningly, and she lowered herself to the ground again. He mumbled something in his strange tongue, and Rachel shook her head to tell him that she didn’t understand him.
Was the brave alone? She saw no other figures in the dark.
Her gaze went quickly back to the Indian. “What do you want from us?”
His grin was a flash of white in his dark face. “Gichimookomaanikwe.”
He bent again, and she closed her eyes in expectation of his hurting her. But all she felt was the gentlest touch on her cheek, a caress that made her shiver and nearly cry out.
When she opened her eyes again, he was gone, and she wondered if she’d actually seen the man, or if she’d simply been dreaming.
She glanced toward where her two friends had been sleeping, and was amazed to see that they continued to sleep peacefully, blissfully unaware of the Indian’s visit.
She got up and grabbed Rupert’s gun, telling herself that she would fire the weapon at the Indian if he returned.
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Her heart thumping, her eyes wide, she lay down again. When she awoke next, the morning sun was bright in a clear, cloudless sky, and her traveling companions were eating breakfast.
“Did you sleep well?” Miranda asked upon seeing her friend rise.
“For part of the night.” Rachel paused and bit her lip. “You didn’t hear or sense anyone here last night?”
Miranda smiled. “Like an Indian or a wild animal?”
Rachel blinked. “Yes!”
“No.” Miranda frowned. “No, of course I didn’t. Why do you ask? Did you?”
Rachel glanced about, and saw that there was nothing that suggested their nighttime visitor had been real. “No, I didn’t see or hear anyone.”
Miranda glanced down and saw the gun near Rachel’s sleeping pallet. “Isn’t that my uncle’s rifle?”
She felt a jolt. Her cheeks brightening, Rachel nodded. If she’d been dreaming, when did she pick up Rupert’s rifle? “All right,” she admitted reluctantly, “so I thought I heard something last night.”
“Oh, Rachel ...”
“I’ve never slept out in a forest before,” she said in defense.
“I told you, Uncle Rupert will keep us safe.”
“What if I said that I saw an Indian last night?”
Miranda looked skeptical. “And he just quietly left—is that it?” She smiled. “And I suppose he didn’t want to wake us.”
Rachel did think it seemed odd that an Indian would come and leave so quickly and quietly. She must have dreamed his visit ... and the way he’d touched her face and hair.
As the day wore on, Rachel couldn’t stop thinking about her dream. What if it had been real? What if for some strange reasons of his own, a real Indian had come into their camp, stared at them while they slept, then having been caught in the act, left because he’d had no other members of his tribe to help him take prisoners.
The image of the man was so clear in her thoughts. She couldn’t control the quick little thump of her heart as she recalled his dark hair and eyes, his powerful, lithe form. For a savage, he wasn’t too terrible to look at.
A handsome Indian? I’m going crazy, she thought. I’m delirious from the journey. Perhaps Jordan’s betrayal had not only broken her heart, but robbed her of her sanity!
Chapter 2
A mist enshrouded the domed wigwams of the Indian village as Black-Hawk-Who-Hunts-at-Dawn and his small band of Ojibwa men returned home. They had been gone for a fortnight, after journeying to the village of their Ojibwa brothers to the east. Their common enemy, the Sioux, had attacked the eastern encampment, and Black Hawk, the war chief in his tribe, had left quickly to offer aid to the community.
It was dawn, and his people were just stirring. The scent of smoke clung to the damp air as the women added fuel to their cooking fires. A dog barked from the opposite end of the village. A child began to whimper from inside one of the huts, and a mother’s voice answered soothingly.
Black Hawk absorbed the sights and sounds from afar before entering the village clearing. He didn’t wait for his band of men to follow him as he headed for the wigwam of the chief, Big-Cat-with-Broken-Paw. He knew his brothers were as anxious to converse with the chief as he was.
A young golden-haired girl emerged from a wigwam as Black Hawk came abreast of the structure. Her eyes lit up when she saw him. “Black Hawk! You’re back!” She launched herself into the warrior’s arms. “It’s so good to see you!”
“It is good to see you also, Little Flower,” he said, surprised by her presence. “You are growing like a weed! Are you here visiting Barking Dog alone, or did my friend Dan-yel come with you?”
The child was the niece of his white friend, Daniel Trahern. She sometimes came to stay with her friend Barking Dog and the child’s grandmother, Swaying Tree.
“My family is here with me.”
Black Hawk smiled with pleasure. “Tell Dan-yel that I will seek him out as soon as I meet with Big-Cat-with-Broken-Paw.”
The girl nodded, then ran to another wigwam, which she entered. Black Hawk continued toward the hut of his chief.
The chief’s wigwam was like the others within the village. The dome-shaped structure was constructed of bent saplings covered with birch bark. A deer hide draped the doorway. Black Hawk called out a greeting. Invited to enter, he raised the door flap and went inside. He greeted the inhabitants of the lodge.
The chief was seated on a mat near the fire. His wife was serving up a bowl of corn porridge for him. “Ah, Black Hawk,” Big-Cat-with-Broken-Paw said, “you have returned. Good, good!”
Black Hawk smiled at the man’s wife and sat near the fire. His expression grew solemn as he returned his attention to his leader.
“You have much to tell me,” the chief said.
The warrior nodded. “Our enemy has destroyed White Fox’s village. Only four of our brother warriors have survived. The attackers have taken the women and children.”
The chief scowled. “The Sioux will pay for this!” he barked angrily.
“But that is not all,” Black Hawk said. “They have continued their trail of destruction to the village of Red Nose just south of our brother White Fox. The women and children managed to escape, but ...” He felt a flash of all consuming anger. “They murdered Red Nose.”
“No!” Big-Cat-with-Broken-Paw cried.
“It is so,” Black Hawk assured him. He felt a swish of air behind him as someone raised the door flap. His brothers Thunder Oak and Rain-from-Sky entered, followed by the chief’s son, Gray Squirrel.
“Black Hawk speaks the truth,” Thunder Oak said as he, too, sat by the fire. “The Sioux have murdered more of our people and kidnapped our women and children. It is time we seek out our enemy and put a stop to the killing.”
“We must have a council meeting,” the chief said. “This decision cannot be made quickly.”
“It must be made quickly!” Gray Squirrel exclaimed. “Until we attack, our enemy will continue to hurt and kill our people. Red Nose did nothing to provoke the Sioux attack. His death and the deaths of his people must be avenged!”
“Gray Squirrel,” Black Hawk said with patience, “I, more than you, want vengeance against the Sioux, but our chief is right. We must have a council meeting.” He hated the Sioux. A band of Sioux warriors had tortured and murdered his father when he was only eight years old. It was something that he would never forget. Someday, he would find the leader of that band, who had killed his father in cold blood, and he would make him pay for all the pain and suffering and loss to his father, himself, and his people. It was often the driving force of his day.
“We shall meet in council in five days,” Big-Cat-with-Broken-Paw said.
“Five days!” Gray Squirrel exclaimed.
“What matter is five days?” Thunder Oak said. “Our chief—your father—and my brother are right. We must plan to win, and such things are not easily accomplished.”
“We must invite our brothers to the north and our Ottawa friends as well,” Rain-from-Sky said.
All the Indians agreed. “I will send a messenger,” the chief said.
“I will visit our Ottawa brother, Great Deer,” Thunder Oak offered.
Big-Cat-with-Broken-Paw nodded. “Good. Rain-from-Sky, would you go to our brothers in the north?”
“I shall be honored to go there,” the brave answered.
“And you, Black Hawk,” the chief said, “you have some special visitors. Perhaps Dan-yel Trahern will help us as he has done before.”
“I’m sure of it, Grandfather.”
The meeting ended, and Black Hawk followed the others from the chief’s wigwam. He headed toward the wigwam of the matron Swaying Tree, knowing instinctively that he would find Little Flower there.
“Black Hawk.” Daniel Trahern’s voice hailed him in Ojibwa from the direction of the forest.
Black Hawk turned and regarded his friend with delight. “You have fared well these last months, my friend.”
&nbs
p; “And you?” Daniel said. “You look well, but I hear there is much to worry you.”
The brave inclined his head. “The Sioux have once again struck our people. Red Nose is dead; his village was destroyed. They have taken the women and children. Only a few braves have escaped.”
Daniel had no liking for the Sioux. They had kidnapped his wife’s father. His sister had been a captive of the Sioux, although it had been white men—and not the Indians—who had attacked and raided Jane’s cabin initially. Jane had lived among the Sioux for over four years. She was back with her family, residing in a small cottage not far from Daniel’s house. The terrible experience had changed her and stolen her joy.
“What can I do to help?” Daniel asked.
Black Hawk grinned. “Your offer comes at the right time, my friend. We meet in council in five days. Can you stay that long?”
“We can stay.”
Smiling, the Indian studied his friend. “I didn’t expect to see you here so soon after your last visit.”
“We came with special news.” Daniel’s eyes lit up like a child who’d been given a special treat. “I am to be a father. Tree-That-Will-Not-Bend is with child.”
“Ayee!” Black Hawk exclaimed. “This is exciting news. Where is she?”
Daniel pointed toward a wigwam. “She rests in the lodge of Spring Blossom.” Spring Blossom was Black Hawk’s sister. Spring Blossom and Amelia Dempsey Trahern had become friends from their first meeting over two years ago when Daniel had brought Amelia to the village. John Dempsey had been kidnapped by the Sioux, and Amelia and Daniel had come to Black Hawk’s village for assistance in rescuing Amelia’s father.
“She is well?” Black Hawk asked. He had great respect for Daniel’s wife. She was a strong and courageous woman. When a group of them had been captives of the Sioux, Amelia had risked her life so that the rest of them could escape.
“She is sturdy,” Daniel said teasingly.
“Like a tree that will not bend,” Black Hawk replied with a chuckle.
While in the village, Daniel had given Amelia the Indian name Tree-That-Will-Not-Bend, and she had rewarded him, in turn, with Man-with-Big-Head.
Wild Innocence Page 2