“Then you shall have him,” the chief said.
When the Sioux was taken away, Daniel turned to Black Hawk. “Can you trust him?”
“I do not know,” Black Hawk said, “but we will honor our word.” He had waited a long time for his father’s murderer.
Soon, he thought. Soon, He-Who-Kilds-with-Big-Stick will meet Black-Hawk- Who-Hunts-at-Dawn. And I, Black Hawk, will avenge my father’s death!
Chapter 21
Black Hawk is back! Rachel thought. She was anxious to see him. Would he be glad to see her?
She was disappointed that he hadn’t immediately sought her out. What had happened? How did they get her father away so easily? Where was Clouds-at-Morning?
Father is safe, Rachel thought. Black Hawk is safe! There was still much to learn about the rescue, but Daniel had promised to tell the story later, after they’d eaten the evening meal. Rachel hadn’t argued with her sister’s husband. She was happy with the turn of events and her new friendship with Daniel. She sensed a change in her brother-in-law’s attitude toward her; she couldn’t be more pleased.
Black Hawk was with the Ojibwa chief, Big-Cat-with-Broken-Paw. Rachel longed to see him again, but she knew he would be with his leader for a long while. She headed back to Spring Blossom’s wigwam, where she’d been staying with the Indian maiden, Amelia, and Jane. There was to be a feast this night in celebration of the rice harvest. The meal would include Ojibwa and white man’s food. Daniel had gone to the cabin to fetch the necessary ingredients for dessert cakes, Amelia’s contribution to the meal.
Rachel decided to make mashkodesimin, an Ojibwa soup made from beans. It was just one of many dishes that she’d learned to cook during her stay at the village.
As she searched for a clay bowl and cooking utensils, Rachel’s thoughts lingered on Black Hawk. Now that her father was back and the threat of invading Sioux was gone, the time had come for her to return to the mission. She didn’t want to leave him. She wanted to stay and spend more time with Black Hawk. What if she went away and never saw him again?
Oh, Black Hawk, come to me.
She longed to speak with him and find out how he felt about her. He’d said he’d return to her. Her, she thought. What did he mean? That he loved her enough to come back?
They’d been lovers. Was it love that had driven him to take her? Or desire?
And he does desire me. I’ve seen the way he looks at me. I’ve felt his kisses and his touch. He’s not indifferent.
She unearthed the basket of beans and dumped them in the clay pot for cooking. But desire isn’t love, she thought as she added herbs for seasoning. On impulse, she threw in a handful of dried corn kernels and a few other ingredients of her own.
Is he so driven by revenge for his father’s murder that he’ll never be able to love a woman?
Rachel stirred the contents of the pot, then set it to simmer over the fire. As she added other ingredients to the dish, she recalled herself and Black Hawk in a secluded forest glen ... two bodies cleaving together in the most special act of love that two people could share. She felt a shiver of pleasure at the memory.
Whatever happened, she thought, she wouldn’t regret giving herself to Black Hawk. Her lips curved in a slow feminine smile as she remembered her initial fear of the marriage act. Loving Black Hawk had been so wonderful. It seemed silly to her now that she’d ever felt afraid.
Her smile vanished as she realized that if Black Hawk didn’t love her, she would never experience the joy again.
No wonder love makes children, she thought. Children! Dear Lord, what if they had produced a child!
Rachel cradled her belly as if the tiny life had already sprouted inside her. Black Hawk’s child, she thought. An Ojibwa baby.
Her expression softened. Black Hawk would be a good father. She loved the idea of having his babe. Rachel knew it was unusual to feel that way, considering that she was unwed and the notion would be scandalous back in Baltimore.
But this isn’t Baltimore. And she wanted to have Black Hawk’s child.
There will be those here who will not accept the babe. They will look upon him as a “breed, ” hurting him with their nasty words, striking out whenever the mood takes them.
“And I will fight to protect this child of love,” she vowed. “I will want him. He was conceived in love, my love for the babe’s father.”
This is ridiculous! she thought. It’s too soon. You don’t even know whether or not you’re with child!
She thought she heard Black Hawk’s voice among the villagers who had gathered in the clearing. Heart pounding, she remained in the wigwam and calmly, carefully, stirred the contents of the cooking pot. Outside, dogs barked, and the Indians shared laughter. She heard a young boy call to his friend, and a mother scold her daughter.
“Rach-el.”
She spun toward the doorway. Black Hawk had lifted the deerskin door flap and stepped inside. Rachel took one long look at him and felt emotion well up and tighten her throat. He looked wonderful. He had bathed recently; his dark hair was shiny and damp, and his skin looked scrubbed clean.
“Black Hawk,” she whispered.
“I came back,” he said.
She nodded.
“We brought your father.”
She swallowed. “Yes, I saw him.” She felt emotionally fragile. She was afraid that at any moment she would start to cry. “Thank you.” She blinked back tears.
“Come,” he said, and opened his arms.
With a wild cry, she went to him and held onto him tightly. “I was so afraid for you.”
He had thought of her as they’d approached the Sioux village. Black Hawk had worried about failing her, but the Sioux had been careless. The attackers had slipped into the village after surrounding it on all sides. The fighting had been over before it’d begun.
“I was never in any danger,” he assured her. “There were many of us and so few of them. We circled their village, then we went in while they slept and took prisoners.”
Rachel pulled away. “You have prisoners?”
He nodded. “Clouds-at-Morning and some of his men,” he said. He saw a question in her green gaze. “No, he has not been harmed. No one has been killed.” He didn’t tell her of the guard that had attacked one of the soldiers and had been shot by another. The brave had been severely wounded, but he was alive.
Black Hawk gazed into her eyes, saw her sweetness, and groaned as he bent his head to kiss her. Her mouth was moist and warm and all that he’d remembered. He wanted to continue kissing her forever, but he forced himself to stop. Soon, he’d have to leave, and she would be gone.
“Rach-el,” he murmured. Holding her gaze, he stroked her hair. “Soon, you must return to the mission, and I must leave my village.”
She stiffened. “You’re leaving? Why?”
“I go to find my father’s murderer. I will come back after I find the one called He-Who-Kills-with-Big-Stick.”
“But that’s crazy!” she cried. She grabbed onto his arms. “What if you get killed?”
Black Hawk’s smile was grim. “I must go. Only when the man is dead, will I find peace in my heart.”
And love? she wanted to ask him. Will you find it in your heart to love?
“You’re not a murderer,” she said, believing it to be true. “How will killing him bring back your father?”
His gaze hardened. “You do not understand our ways,” he said. “This is necessary. I kill when I must.”
“No,” she gasped. Couldn’t he see that she was frightened for him? He couldn’t go. He mustn’t! Her eyes filled with tears. “Black Hawk, I don’t want you to go.”
He scowled and freed himself from her hold. “You do not have the right to tell me what to do.”
Pain tightened her chest, making it difficult to breathe. “I know that.” The truth cut her deeply.
“I will leave when this night of feasting is over,” he said. He was like a cold, dark stranger as he spoke without kindness
or love. “When I get back, you will be gone. Be happy that you have your father.”
Desperate to make him understand, she reached for him. “I am! I—”
“Clouds-at-Morning should not bother you again.” He brushed her hands aside. “If he does, there will be men who will kill him.”
Rachel stared at the man she loved and saw the dark savage in him. How could I’ve thought he had feelings for me? Men weren’t to be trusted. They used women as it suited them, then tossed them away when it was no longer convenient.
A convenience. Was that all she was to Black Hawk? A convenient, willing female? Someone to slake his lust? She remembered his kindness and his caring. She wouldn’t, couldn’t believe it! He had to feel something more.
“You care for me,” she whispered. “I know you do.”
He narrowed his gaze. “You are a foolish woman.”
“Are you saying that you felt nothing when we made love?”
His jaw hardened. “It does not take love to make niinag rise,” he said crudely.
She blanched. She didn’t need an interpreter to understand the Ojibwa term. “That’s all I was to you? A woman?”
He shrugged, as if he didn’t sense her pain.
She became blinded by a red haze of fury and pain. “Get out,” she spat. “Get out before I do something I’ll regret!”
If she’d ever thought she’d felt worse pain, she’d been mistaken. This hurt her worse than when Jordan had left her at the altar.
Black Hawk looked at her without emotion, then raised his eyebrows as if he thought of her as nothing more than a silly female. Rachel suffered a slow, painful inner death.
“Please leave,” she said, averting her gaze. She refused to look at him. The man she loved had just slashed her heart in two.
“Thank you for rescuing my father,” she said, “but I want you to leave me now.”
He hesitated.
“Go!” she cried, turning to face him. “Leave me!” She’d lost the battle to keep her pain hidden.
“Rach-el Dempsey.” He’d said it so softly that she wasn’t sure she’d heard him.
Heart pounding, she looked at him, but saw only a swinging door flap. Black-Hawk-Who-Hunts-at-Dawn had gone.
She knew the remainder of the evening would be horrible. While everyone else within the village celebrated, Rachel pretended to enjoy herself, but felt miserable inside.
The celebration began with a ceremony using the wild rice. Each family brought a small covered container of cooked rice to the village ceremonial house.
“Rice must be taken to big house for special blessing,” Spring Blossom explained. “We close lid tightly to protect rice from evil spirits.”
Rachel watched without enthusiasm as the Indian maiden prepared the rice. Then she followed Spring Blossom, Amelia, and Jane to the big house.
Inside, all the Ojibwa had gathered for the blessing of the harvest. Spring Blossom placed her rice pot on a small table with the others. After uncovering the pot, she joined Rachel and her other guests off to one side.
When everyone had placed their offering of rice, an Ojibwa man stepped from the gathering and approached the table. He was elaborately dressed in a deerskin breechclout and leggings. His shirt was white fabric—a white man’s shirt—but he had a long fringed sash, embroidered in a brightly colored diamond pattern and adorned with porcupine quills. His loincloth was fringed and highly decorated as well. On his head, he wore a feathered headdress.
The medicine man lit a pipe and blew tobacco smoke in four different directions.
Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox had come to stand near the two Dempsey sisters. “White Shirt is our medicine man,” Rachel heard her explain to Amelia. “He blows pipe in the direction of the four winds. It is an offering to the spirits.”
Rachel glanced toward the matron and saw that both she and Amelia were engrossed in the ceremonial proceedings. A voice spoke, and she turned her attention back to the center of the room.
Another older Indian had come forward. His tone rose and fell as he chanted in Ojibwa.
“That’s He-Who-Comes-from-Far-Away,” Amelia told her sister softly. “He’s Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox’s husband.”
Rachel nodded. She knew who he was; she’d met him during her stay. “What is he saying?” Despite herself, she was intrigued.
“He is praying to the spirits,” Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox said. “He gives thanks that our people have lived to enjoy another harvest of the rice.”
Rachel watched as the medicine man took a small amount of rice from one pot and ate it. The owner of the pot stepped forward and ate his own small share. The medicine man then went to another pot, and the same procedure occurred for that pot and all the others on the table. As a container was eaten from, the rice, or manoomin, inside was considered blessed or consecrated. The remaining rice was then carried outside for feasting.
The villagers had prepared a feast, the likes of which Rachel had never seen before. There was roast venison, bear meat, and fresh fish ... vegetable dishes and cakes made from corn, and sweets from maple sugar along with Amelia’s dessert cakes. Once again, Amelia’s cakes proved to be a favorite among the Indian men and now the children, who’d received their first taste.
And there was music. Wherever she went in the village, Rachel could hear the rhythmic shake of birch-bark rattles and the accompanying beat of the Ojibwa water drums.
There was much laughter and gaiety as everyone took their share of food. Rachel found a seat on the ground next to Amelia. Daniel came to sit on his wife’s opposite side.
Although she felt separate from the gaiety of the celebration, Rachel pretended to be happy as she smiled frequently at her family and the Ojibwa participants.
Of Black Hawk, there was no sign. Rachel told herself she was grateful. She managed to convince herself that she didn’t want to see him. Seeing him would be too painful for her, she reasoned.
Yet she looked for him, hoping ... wishing that their last meeting had never occurred ... that she’d dreamed the whole encounter and that Black Hawk wasn’t going to leave.
But she knew that it had happened. Black Hawk’s absence from this group of friends only confirmed that things were not as they should be. Amelia apparently thought so, too.
“Where is Black Hawk?” she asked Daniel.
Daniel shrugged as he continued to eat. “This soup is delicious,” he said.
Rachel felt a lightening of her spirits. “Thank you.”
He looked at her with surprise. “You made this?” She nodded. “It’s good.”
“Are you shocked?” she asked without anger.
He smiled. “No, not at all. I may have underestimated you before, but not now.”
Rachel allowed her lips to curve. “That means a lot to me.”
“Daniel,” Amelia said, “you still haven’t told me where Black Hawk is. I heard something about him leaving soon. Is that true?”
“Where did you hear that?” Rachel asked, her heart thumping hard. Had someone heard her conversation with Black Hawk?
“Susie told me. Apparently, Conner overheard his grandmother.”
“And Conner knows so much?” Daniel teased.
Amelia looked at him. The way he said it told her that it was in fact true. “He is leaving, isn’t he?” she said quietly. Her questioning glance went to Rachel.
“It’s true,” Rachel said.
Amelia turned back to her husband. “What is it?” She frowned. “Does this have something to do with his father?”
Daniel looked uncomfortable. “What do you mean?”
“Yes,” Rachel said, and husband and wife looked at her.
“He told you,” Daniel murmured.
“Yes, he told me.”
Her brother-in-law looked at her thoughtfully. “I didn’t know if he would.”
“Told her what?” Amelia asked.
“That Black Hawk is leaving to avenge his father’s death,” Rachel said with bitterness.
> Daniel frowned. “He has to go, you know.”
“What Black Hawk does means little to me,” Rachel said stiffly.
Amelia regarded her sister, then her husband curiously. “Rachel, I thought Black Hawk and you were friends.”
“We were—are.”
“Then how can you be so unconcerned?” Amelia asked.
Rachel stood with her bowl. “I’m not indifferent. It’s just none of my business,” she said as she started to walk away.
“But, Rachel—”
“Leave her be, love,” Daniel said.
Amelia looked at him and saw a frown settle on his brow as he continued to study her sister. As if sensing Amelia’s regard, he turned and smiled at her. She didn’t return his smile.
“Is it possible that she’s in love with him?” she asked.
“I hope not,” Daniel answered.
“Why would you say that? He’s your friend.”
“I say it because Rachel doesn’t have a chance, and I don’t want her to be hurt. Black Hawk has only one thing on his mind right now and that is finding his father’s murderer.”
“You don’t think she ... they ...” The thought of intimacy between Black Hawk and Rachel under the circumstances deeply disturbed Amelia.
“No.” Daniel shook his head. “No, definitely not. Black Hawk wouldn’t.” He finished eating and put aside his bowl. He reached for his wife’s dish, and she handed it to him.
“And Rachel would ... lie with him?” she challenged, upset. Did he think that Rachel was a wanton?
“No!” he said. “I don’t mean any offense.”
She raised her eyebrows when he looked at her. “What do you mean?”
He touched her cheek, then ran his fingers down to her neck. Cupping her throat, he kissed her. She closed her eyes and gave in to the kiss.
“That,” he said softly as he released her. “I have only to touch you and you’re mine.”
“But that’s different. I love you and ...” Her eyes widened with understanding.
He smiled. “And if your sister loved Black Hawk?”
“She’d give herself to him without thought,” Amelia answered.
Wild Innocence Page 21