“Where is Susie?” Rachel asked. She hadn’t seen the child since the men had left yesterday morning. She knew that Susie had come; she was surprised that the little girl didn’t cling more closely to her mother.
Spring Blossom and two Ojibwa matrons worked near the white women. “Little Flower is with Barking Dog,” Spring Blossom said. “They are at the rice marsh with Swaying Tree.”
It was the time of year when the Ojibwa took their birch-bark canoes into the waterways to harvest manoomin, which was wild rice. The Ojibwa used the rice in many dishes. Rachel had tasted several of them, and she had found the meals very palatable.
“Is it safe there?” Jane asked. She’d appeared nervous when she’d first come. She seemed more relaxed now, as if she finally understood that the Ojibwa were a kind people, who were no threat to any of them.
“Swaying Tree will watch over Little Flower,” Spring Blossom said. “Tomorrow, when the sun rises, I will show you how to harvest the rice. Rach-el can go with Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox. Jane can come with me.”
“I don’t know.” Jane was hesitant about going.
“Why not, Jane?” Amelia said. “It sounds like fun.” She patted her belly. “I’d love to go myself, but I’m not my best in the morning.” She suffered from morning sickness these days, although she felt well by the afternoon.
“Tree-That-Will-Not-Bend, you can go with Swaying Tree later. Barking Dog’s grandmother will show you what to do.”
Amelia’s expression brightened. “Miigwech. I’d like that.”
“Wild rice gathering!” Rachel exclaimed. “I don’t want to gather rice!” She looked accusingly at Amelia. “How can you think of harvesting while Father remains a Sioux captive!”
Her sister looked hurt. “Rachel, you must have faith in Black Hawk,” Amelia said.
“I do,” Rachel whispered, her eyes suddenly filling with tears. She felt a dull throbbing at the back of her neck. Contrite, she touched Amelia’s arm. “I’m sorry, Amelia. I just can’t stop worrying about them. What if the Sioux are stronger? What if they ambush our men first?”
“They won’t attack first,” Jane said, speaking of the matter for the first time. Rachel knew that Jane was as worried as the rest of them, for her brother and Jack Keller were in the rescue party. “Black Hawk knows what he is doing.”
“I hope you’re right,” Rachel said. “Yes, I know you’re right, but . . .”
Later, while the others had gone to harvest the wild rice, Rachel stayed behind with a headache. Spring Blossom gave her a broth made from herbs for the pain; then Rachel went to the wigwam and lay down. Soon, her headache went away. Her concern for Black Hawk and the other men got her up and wandering aimlessly about the village.
She fretted about her father’s kidnapping, and she worried about her new feelings for Black Hawk.
She loved Black Hawk and wanted to know more about him. But whom could she ask? Who would tell her about his boyhood and his father’s murder?
Would she ever fully understand the man?
Black Hawk wants me, she thought. At least, he does in the physical sense. Would he ever feel more? Could he ever love her?
He was consumed with finding his father’s killer. How could there be room for love with revenge in his heart?
Rachel spied Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox near the edge of the village yard. Would the matron answer her questions about Black Hawk? The woman had been kind and patient with her, and she spoke perfect English. Womanwith-Hair-of-Fox had been born white, and then she’d been captured by the Ottawa Indians when she was eleven years old. Her life with the Ojibwa had come later after the Ottawa had traded her to the village of Big-Cat-with-Broken-Paw.
Rachel hailed Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox as the matron handed a water sack to a young boy. The woman shooed the child toward a wigwam, then waited with a smile for Rachel to join her.
“I have something to ask you,” Rachel said, “but I don’t know if you want to answer my question.”
“What is your question?” The matron looked curious.
“Will you tell me about Black Hawk’s father?” Rachel asked her. Her first thought had been to ask Spring Blossom, but then she remembered that the man had been the maiden’s father, too. Any questions about him would only bring up bad memories for her.
Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox gazed at Rachel for a long moment without answering. “Come,” she said. “Let us walk.”
Rachel nodded and followed the woman’s lead. “I’m sorry if I seem curious, but I just had to know.”
The matron gave her a soft smile. “You love him.”
“Why do you say that?” Rachel said with alarm. She looked away.
“I have seen it in your eyes when you watch him.”
“Oh, no!”
Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox patted her shoulder. “Do not be upset, Rachel. I see what others do not see. I see your love for Black Hawk, and Jane Milton’s feelings for Jack Keller.”
“Jane cares for Jack?”
“Yes.” The matron gestured toward a path through the forest. “I saw this, just as I saw your sister’s love for Man-with-Big-Head.”
Rachel changed direction, following the new trail. At the mention of Daniel’s Indian name, she grinned.
“I will tell you what you want to know,” Woman-with-Hair of-Fox said.
They followed the river to the edge of a great lake. It was a cloudy day, but the water was no less beautiful. Here, Rachel could enjoy the clean air. She felt the breeze blowing in from off the water. She closed her eyes to savor the moment.
“Let us sit,” Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox suggested. They found a rock large enough for two. The matron was quiet for a time before she began to speak.
“He was a little boy, only eight years old, when he went on his first hunt with his father, Bear Tooth,” she began.
“The Ojibwa hunt so young?” Rachel asked.
“Sometimes, yes. Sometimes, no. Bear Tooth felt that his son was ready. Black Hawk was a good boy. He was very wise for eight summers. He had a sharp eye and could kill a bird in flight with a single arrow.”
Rachel smiled, trying to imagine him as a child. “I would like to have known him then.”
Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox smiled knowingly. “His father was proud of him. We were all proud of Black Hawk. The young warrior was pleased and excited when he learned that his father was to take him on his first big hunt.”
A shadow fell across the matron’s expression, dulling her light eyes. “They left early when the sun was not yet up in the day’s sky. Four warriors went with young Black Hawk. Bear Tooth taught his son how to track deer and other big animals, just as he’d shown him how to shoot a bird in flight. By the time the sun was high in the sky, the hunting party had two deer and one bear between the five hunters. Black Hawk’s prize had been the biggest—a large black bear. The warriors were pleased. There would be food for everyone in the village. Two of our braves, Silver Wolf and Laughing Lake, went back to the village with the deer. Bear Tooth, Water Turtle, and Black Hawk stayed behind with the bear to prepare the animal and offer thanksgiving to the Bear Spirit. A bear is sacred to the Anishinaabe. A special offering to Gichi-Manidoo is made after a brave kills a bear.”
Tears filled the matron’s eyes as she paused before continuing. “Black Hawk had left the clearing to find firewood. Bear Tooth and Water Turtle were there with the bear when the Sioux warriors came.”
Rachel felt a sudden chill and hugged herself with her arms. “What happened?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the tale, but she wanted to know ... because of Black Hawk.
“There were many enemy warriors and only two of our braves. The enemy surrounded Bear Tooth and Water Turtle; then they began to taunt and beat them. They cut them with their knifes and stabbed them with their spears. Black Hawk was returning to the campsite when he heard the enemy’s laughter ... his father’s screams.”
The matron’s voice thickened. “The boy crept closer. Such a wise child not to run ah
ead and let his whereabouts be known.”
Rachel felt a burning in her stomach as she pictured the scene in her mind.
“Black Hawk waited,” the matron said. “He wanted to save his father and Water Turtle, but he didn’t know how.”
Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox rose from the rock and moved to the edge of the water.
Rachel stood silently and joined her. Her throat felt so tight that she could barely swallow. She’d be forever haunted by the image of a frightened young Indian boy.
“What happened?” she said so softly her voice might not have been heard.
But the matron’s sigh told Rachel that she had heard her. “There was a Sioux warrior. His name was He-Who-Kills-with-Big Stick. He was a cruel man. He enjoyed giving pain, even to one of his own people.
“This warrior began to poke and prod, first at Water Turtle and then at Black Hawk’s father. He had bagamaagan, a big stick with a blade at one end. Many of the People have such weapons.”
“War clubs,” Rachel said.
The matron nodded. “Yes, war clubs.” She continued her story with a solemn expression. “He-Who-Kills-with-Big-Stick liked to use his war club more than most braves.”
Her imagination took over before Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox finished telling the tale. Rachel’s stomach churned as tears filled her eyes so that she couldn’t see. As the matron went on with the story, Rachel’s imagination proved accurate. She heard about the awful horror that the two Ojibwa adult males endured that day. The horror consisted of torture, tormenting, sticks, and fire. Bear Tooth tried bravely, but futilely, not to cry out with pain, as Black Hawk watched, with tears trailing down his cheeks, as the Sioux tortured and murdered his father.
“There was a time during the ordeal when Black Hawk could no longer stay still. He started to go to his father’s aid; but as if sensing his son’s intention, Bear Tooth caught his son’s gaze. It was said that the warrior sent his son a message with his eyes to save himself. Black Hawk was almost captured as he gazed at his father. A Sioux warrior heard his movement and looked to the forest where the boy was hidden. To keep his son from discovery, Bear Tooth began to taunt the Sioux and further enrage them. He brought their attention away from Black Hawk and back to himself. Bear Tooth suffered, but was glad he had saved his son.
“When the Sioux were done, there wasn’t much left of our warriors. Black Hawk stayed hidden while his father and friend were killed, and then longer still while the Sioux braves feasted on Black Hawk’s bear. When the Sioux left, they left the rest of the bear behind. Black Hawk ran to his father and Water Turtle. Then, with tears on his face and his weapons drawn, he watched over the bodies to protect them from predators.”
“Poor Black Hawk,” Rachel whispered, her throat aching.
Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox nodded. “When the warriors and Black Hawk didn’t return to the village, Silver Fox and Laughing Lake came back to look for them. They found the little warrior Black Hawk sitting rigidly in a tiny clearing, his expression blank, his weapons still raised for protection. Horrified and grieving, the warriors brought the bodies back to the village for the funeral ceremony.
“Black Hawk was quiet for a long time after that. There was such sadness in his eyes, it hurt to look at him. The people in the village called him a great hunter because he had killed the bear. They were sad and angry at the death of their own, but they saw the greatness in Black Hawk. Time had passed since Bear Tooth’s passing; they wanted to celebrate his son. But Black Hawk didn’t want to celebrate. He didn’t want to be a great hunter. He only wanted his father back.”
“Oh, Black Hawk,” Rachel whispered.
“Then one day, Black Hawk spoke,” the matron said. “He vowed vengeance on He-Who-Kills-with-Big-Stick and the Sioux who had done this. He said no more about the killings after that. He lived among us as any young brave. He had proved a mighty warrior when he killed his first bear. Despite having seen his father’s death, Black Hawk was a wise warrior. Big-Cat-with-Broken-Paw made him war chief. Black Hawk is a good war chief.”
“But his desire for revenge hasn’t made him”—Rachel thought hard for the right word—“reckless?”
The matron shook her head. “He fights when it is time to fight. He has waited many years to find He-Who-Kills-with-Big Stick. Only when his father’s death is avenged will Black Hawk be healed.”
They returned in the bright light of day. Rachel heard the joyful cries of the villagers. Hurrying from the wigwam, where she’d been spreading fresh scented pine boughs on the floor, she saw the group of men. She cried out with gladness and rushed to meet them.
“Father!”
John Dempsey, looking weary but well, smiled as he saw his youngest daughter. Amelia had already joined the group and was hugging her husband Daniel. After embracing her father, Rachel searched for Black Hawk, but didn’t see him. Her heart started to pound with fear. Where was Black Hawk? Had he been hurt ... or killed? She studied her brother-in-law. Surely, Daniel would have told her immediately.
“Black Hawk is in the wigwam of Big-Cat-with-Broken-Paw,” Daniel said as he approached her. His smile for her reached his blue eyes. “We made it back—all of us. We’re all fine.”
Rachel felt dizzy as she closed her eyes. “Thank God,” she said. Her lashes fluttered open, and she grinned at her brother-in-law. “Thank you, Daniel.” She wanted to hug him, but wasn’t sure he’d appreciate the affectionate display.
He opened his arms to her, and she felt his embrace for the first time. It felt like a gentle bear hug. When he released her, Rachel saw her sister grinning at the two of them.
“You’ve got a fine husband, Amelia,” she admitted, feeling warmth for Daniel Trahern.
“I know,” she said. “Man-with-Big-Head can be charming when he wants to be.”
Rachel chuckled. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, grinning, “but that name—it makes me laugh.”
Daniel wasn’t offended as he shot a rueful smile at his pregnant wife. “Your sister’s idea, I’m afraid,” he said.
The chief stared at their Sioux prisoner. “You will speak to us, Clouds-at-Morning,” he said. “You have done a terrible thing to take our friend John Dempsey. We do not like this. Runs-with-the-Wind will not like this.”
Black Hawk stared at the Sioux warrior with hard eyes. “You have knowledge of a certain brave. We wish to know where he is.”
Clouds-at-Morning stiffened. “I do not have to tell you anything.”
“His name is He-Who-Kills-with-Big-Stick,” Black Hawk continued, as if the Sioux had not spoken. “He killed my father. I must know where he is.”
“I do not know him.”
But a flicker of emotion in the man’s dark eyes told Black Hawk that the brave did. “You can tell us now or tell us as you die. It makes no difference to us.”
The Sioux brave looked alarmed. “He is a cruel warrior.”
Black Hawk nodded. “He kills because he enjoys it.”
“If I tell you where he last was, will you release me? Release my people?”
The rescue party had taken five braves prisoner to ensure John Dempsey’s safe release. The U.S. soldiers had stayed behind to guard the remaining villagers and to make sure that Black Hawk and his men weren’t followed or ambushed.
“We will release you and your people on one condition,” Big-Cat-with-Broken-Paw said. “You must not bother John Dempsey or his daughters again.”
A spark of anger lit Clouds-at-Morning’s gaze. “I have given the daughter Rachel the right to choose me as husband.”
“Rachel does not want to marry you,” Daniel Trahern said as he entered the wigwam. “She has told me so. You frighten her.” He scowled. “And apparently she’s had good reason to be frightened.”
“You will not come near Rachel Dempsey again,” Black Hawk warned. “If you do, we will hunt down you and your people, and we will kill every one of them.”
“I will stay away from Rachel Dempsey,” the Sioux brave murmured. But there w
as anger, not fear, in his dark eyes.
Daniel’s smile was grim. “Good.”
“About He-Who-Kills-with-Big-Stick,” Black Hawk said.
The Sioux shivered. “I will tell you what I know, but he must not learn who told you.”
Black Hawk felt a trickle of excitement. “He will not know.”
“He was last seen in the village of Great Buffalo. He does not stay too long in any one place. Our people respect him, but many fear him. He comes for a time, then leaves to visit the next village.”
“Great Buffalo,” Black Hawk murmured. “Where is this village?”
Clouds-at-Morning turned defiant. “I should not tell you. How do I know you will not attack and kill my people?”
“Did you attack the village of Red Dog?” Black Hawk asked, and was relieved when the Sioux brave shook his head. “I do not want your people. I want only He-Who-Kills-with-Big-Stick. I give you my word that we will release your people. They will not be harmed.”
Clouds stared at Black Hawk a long time before responding. “The village is where we meet for council, where the buffalo follow the big mountain.” He went to describe how to get to this place and how long it had been since He-Who-Kills-with-Big-Stick had left Clouds-at-Morning’s village.
Big-Cat-with-Broken-Paw waved to the warrior guarding the doorway. “Take Clouds-at-Morning to the wigwam of Sleeping Bird. See that he is fed and rested.” He then addressed the Sioux brave. “Tomorrow we will talk one last time.”
“You said you would let me go!” the brave cried as he was led from the wigwam.
“So I did,” the chief said. “And so you shall be.” He glanced at Black Hawk. “Are you sure this is the right thing to do?”
Black Hawk’s look was steady as he gazed at his chief and then at his friend Daniel. “I want the warrior He-Who-Kills-with-Big-Stick.”
Wild Innocence Page 20