by Conn, Phoebe
With the practical goal of doing her laundry in mind, Erica got up, put on the flowing buckskin dress and the moccasins, then brushed out her hair. She then picked up the bundle of soiled clothing, threw back the flap of hide that served as the tepee's door, and stepped out into the sunshine. The savory aromas wafting from nearby cooking fires made her very hungry, but she knew she could scarcely go from tepee to tepee looking for Flowers of Spring in hopes that the woman would share whatever she had for breakfast. Viper had shown her how to recognize their tepee by its distinctive markings, and she looked at it again to make certain she had memorized the brightly painted designs that adorned it. He had said the paintings told stories he would relate later, but it was enough for now that she could distinguish this dwelling from the others.
There were children nearby who stopped their play to stare at her, but Erica smiled sweetly in hopes they were too young to think her an enemy simply because of the color of her skin. The youngsters, however, stared at her with mouths agape, then scattered as though they feared she might chase them. Thinking it perhaps a blessing that she saw no one else about, she turned toward the river. Bracing herself for possibly one of the worst days of her life, she hoped only that she could wash her clothes and find some safe place to quietly spend her time until Viper came home.
There were other women at the river. They stole furtive glances at Erica and whispered amongst themselves, but none smiled at her in a friendly fashion or tried to begin a conversation. When she had washed her well-worn garments, she took them a way upstream to lay them upon bushes to dry, then, grateful for a few moments of privacy, she sat down in the sun hoping Flowers of Spring would
come along, or that some other chore would occur to her. But none did. When her dress and slips were dry, she folded them neatly, but still tarried by the water. She wished she had thought to bring Viper's fishing line with her, then realized that since she had not seen other women fishing, that was probably something the women did not do.
"Well, just what is it they do do?" she asked herself aloud. Diespite the warmth of the sun, she felt very lost and alone. She had tried not to think of the captives' plight as they had entered the village, but now she could not help but worry about them. Were they bound and kept under heavy guard? Was there any way she could ix)ssibly free them? That had been Viper's fear, she knew: that she would disgrace him by seeking to set free the settlers who had been taken captive. She closed her eyes and said a fervent prayer that the captives' lot was not too difficult and that the uprising would soon end. When she heard the shuffle of footsteps approaching she leaped to her feet fearing the worst, but it was Flowers of Spring, not a stranger.
"Good morning," Erica greeted her happily, relieved it was not someone who had read her traitorous thoughts and had come to drag her off to be confined wherever the hostages were being kept "It is a lovely day, isn't it? So bright and warm." The Indian woman looked only puzzled, and Erica gave up her efforts to communicate. Flowers of Spring was holding a basket, and she gestured for Erica to tollow. Erica picked up her clean clothes and tagged along behind her. They went some distance before reaching vines laden with plump blackberries. Readily understanding that she was to help pick the fruit. Erica laid her bundle aside and began to work. She was so hungry she could not resist the temptation to sample quite a few, but when she caught her Indian companion looking at her with a disapproving frown, she forced herself to concentrate upon tilling the woman's basket rather than her own painrully empty stomach.
They worked until the basket was nearly overflowing, and then Flowers of Spring handed it to Erica to carry as they made their way back to the camp. When they passed the place on the river where the other women had been, an attractive young woman in a buckskin dress heavily
decorated with beadwork called out to them. When Flowers of Spring stopped to speak with her. Erica had no choice but to stand holding the heavy basket and wait. She expected some sort of an introduction, but the two women carried on a private conversation for several minutes, making her feel most uncomfortable and left out. She would have gone ahead and carried the berries back to the tepee she and Viper had shared, but the two women blocked the path and there was no polite way she could slip past them.
Knowing their words would not be understood. Song of the Wren bombarded Flowers of Spring with questions. She could not believe that the outrageous tale her brother had told her could possibly be true. Even after Viper's aunt had confirmed the story of her nephew's marriage, she refused to accept it. Finally she brushed by the older woman so she could get a better look at the white woman who had gained the place in Viper's heart she had been determined to win for herself.
Erica smiled sweetly, hoping the pretty young woman was another relative or someone who might become a friend. They appeared to be about the same age, which she took as a good sign, thinking it would give them similar interests. "Good morning," she tried again. "I hope you speak English, as I know not one word of Sioux."
Wren's flashing black eyes narrowed, for she realized instantly that the blonde possessed many valuable assets which, unfortunately, she did not. How dare she be not only fair and lovely, but confident enough to greet me as a friend? she wondered angrily. She wanted only to hurt this smiling outsider as badly as Viper had hurt her by his neglect. "Why would I want to speak to a white whord^" she responded in the precise English she had also learned from missionaries who had been dedicated to the task of spreading the gospel among her people.
Shocked by so rude an insult. Erica looked to Flowers of Spring for an explanation as to why the young woman would say such a mean thin^. Viper's aunt merely shrugged as though she had no idea what had been said, and Erica realized that, sadly, she was on her own. As a precaution, she shifted the basket of berries to her left hand along with the bundle of clean clothes. "I have no idea
who you think I am, but you are mistaken. I am Viper's wife, and he would be most displeased if I rejjeated your insult to him."
Wren tossed her braids over her shoulders as she stepped closer. "Viper may let you think you are his wife, but you are only his whore. You'll die with the other captives. I hope he saves you until last, so you can hear the others' screams and know what horrible pain awaits youl"
While horrified by so vile a threat. Erica would not permit it to go unchallenged. "You insufferable little bitch," she screamed, and at the same instant she slapped the smirk from Wren's face with a fierce backhanded blow. Trying to avoid being hit a^in, the Indian maiden dodged to the side, lost her footing in the slippery mud of the river bank, and slid into the water where she proceeded to scream that she was being murdered.
"Shut up, you little fool. Nobody's trying to kill youl" Seeing Flowers of Spring rush to help the girl. Erica felt doubly betrayed and dropped the basket of berries scatttering them all over the trail. Clutching her clothes tightly to her breast, she sprinted back down the path the way they had come. She ran on and on, not caring how far she had gone from the village, for she had no wish to return to a place where she had been greeted with cool indifference and hostile threats of death.
When she could run not a step farther, she stripped off the soft buckskin dress and quickly pulled on her own clothes. "I am no captive!" she swore to herself, but her heart was still racing wildly, for what if what the obnoxious girl had said about the captives were true? What if the Indians had killed them all? Filled with dread, she sank to her knees and sobbed pathetically.
ViF>er had sworn to her that he had not killed women and children—but how many men had he slain? How many more would he kill that day? Where had her mind been? she asked herself over and over. Were the Sioux so filled with hatred that they would slaughter their f)oor captives and laugh at the sound of their dying screams? Worse yet, how could she call a man husband who would let such a tragedy occur? Not knowing what to do or where to go, she remained beside the river. She sat hugging her knees, trembling with fear, and crying for the handsome young brave she now feared she oug
ht not to love.
Rather than his bride. Viper found his aunt waiting for him at their tepee. In an attempt to defend her own actions, she provided an imaginative interpretation of the day's events, relying on her own bias rather than the truth for inspiration. "The white woman wasted most of the morning dawdhng by the river. I planned to teach her how to mcike pemmican, but when I took her to pick berries she ate more than went into my basket."
Viper raised his hands to stop her tale as he be^an to laugh. "She was probably hungry. She is used to picking berries with me, and must have thought the fruit was to be eaten then. Where is she?"
"I do not know," Flowers of Spring replied evasively. "After she shoved Wren into the river, she ran away."
"What?" Viper reached out to grab his aunt's shoulders and yanked her so close their noses were nearly touching. "Why are you prattling on about berries if Erica has run away? I left my wife in your care. Now tell me what happenedl"
While Flowers of Spring was badly frightened by her nephew's fiery burst of anger, she stubbornly refused to accept any blame for Erica's disappearance. "It was as I said. We were coming home with the berries. When Wren spoke to your woman, she slapped the girl and shoved her into the river. Then she ran off. I had to pull Wren out of the water myself or the dear child would have drowned."
"Wren is of no consequence herel" Viper shouted, losing all patience with the coldness of his aunt's attitude. "Now tell me which way Erica went, and I will go find her while there is still enough light to search."
"She went north, up the Chippewa," Flowers of Spring replied, then, gathering courage, she rushed on boldly. "She knew she should not have hit Wren. That is why your woman ran away. You should be glad she is gone. I told you she would bring you nothing but trouble."
Further outraged by that vicious outburst. Viper responded in kind. "Wren caused the trouble. Don't deny it. What did she say to my wife?"
Flowers of Spring merely shrugged innocently. "I speak no English, so I do not know. You will have to ask Wren."
Viper shook his head. "I will ask Erica for the truth when I find her." He left the tepee at a run, then, thinking his bride had had the better part of the day to flee, he decided to ride his horse. He had had an exhausting day and had looked forward to spending another evening in his wonderfully loving bride's arms. Now he felt like a Tool for leaving her with Flowers of Spring. He should have known his aunt would not be friendly. He had clearly made a serious error in judgment, but if he could not rely upon his own aunt to accept his wife and treat her with kindness, then who would? He was also chagrined that Erica had apparently behaved like the spoiled rich girl he had to keep reminding himself she was. "Damn!" he swore as the stallion reached the banks of the Chippewa River. "Why are women such impossible creatures?" he asked his mount, but the horse did no more than snort and toss his head in reply.
This time Erica recognized the black stallion when he came racing toward her. She stood and waved, hoping Viper would see her before the horse ran her down. When her husband drew the beast to a halt and leaped from his back, she scanned his expression with an anxious glance, hoping for a clue to his mood before she spoke. When he appeared to be as distressed as she was, she backed away as she began to explain. "None of it was my fault. I tried to be friendly, honestly I did."
While Viper was relieved to find Erica so near the village, he was disappointed she had not run to him as she
had the previous afternoon. He stood still, holding the stallion's reins lightly in his hands and wondering how he could make everything right. Since she had not gone far, he knew she had not been trying to run away. Grateful for that, he tried to smile. "What did Wren say to upset you so?"
"Is that her name, Wren?" When Viper nodded. Erica looked away for a moment. She had practiced dozens of ways to ask her next question, but the dread of what his answer might be nearly choked her now. She coughed to clear her throat before she looked up at him. "I love you," she began, "so dearly that I refuse to believe I am no more than a captive you might one day tire of and kill."
"Is that what that little bitch said to you? I'll wring her neck for insulting you like that," Viper swore convincingly. "You should have not only tossed her in the river. You should have held her head underl"
Erica dismissed his remarks with a wave of her hand. "It was her own clumsiness that caused her to fall in the water. I can't take the credit for that. It doesn't matter what she said about me, since I know it isn't true. It was what she said about the captives that frightened me. If there is even the remotest chance they might die, then I can't stay here with you. I won't. Too many innocent settlers have died, and I won't be a part of any more bloodshed. If your people are going to murder the captives, then I must go, now, this very night."
Viper stared at his bride, his expression as grave as hers. "If you truly wanted to leave, you would not have been sitting here beside the river waiting for me."
Erica had shed too many tears that day to weep again, but the thought of leaving him still threatened to tear her heart in two. "You are my husband. I could not leave without telling you why I had to go."
Viper turned away for a moment to tie the horse's reins to the closest branch. He used the time to try and find a way to deal with her accusation without admitting it held at least a grain of truth. Discovering that was impossible, he gave up the effort. He then took Erica's hand and led her back to the thick patch of grass where she had been sitting before his arrival. He sat down and patted the place at his side. "We must talk," he stated firmly, his invitation an
198
I
emphatic one he hoped she would not dare refuse.
Erica sat down beside him, taking care to arrange the skirt of her worn dress so it did not brush the dirt at the edge of the grass. "What is there to discuss? I have heard all your arguments and you know I sympathize with them. Your people have every right to be outraged at the way you've suffered at the hands of the government, but I cannot condone wanton murder. You cannot ask me to live here and close my eyes to what happens to the captives."
Viper reached for Erica's hand and laced his fingers with hers. His gesture was filled with affection, but it was merely a precaution to keep her from leaping to her feet and again running away. "You are the first woman I have trusted with the thoughts which fill my heart. Listen carefully to me now, and then we will decide what to do."
He had always been able to command her undivided attention, and Erica squeezed his fingers as she moved slightly closer. Her whole body ached with the bittersweet longing to again feel his love, and at the same time she feared this might be the last hour they would ever spend together. "Say whatever you wish. I will never repeat it to the others," she promised in a voice husky with the threat of tears.
As Viper had said, placing his trust in a woman was something entirely new for him, but he knew Erica had earned that honor many times over. It took him a moment to overcome the natural reserve that made him reluctant to share his thoughts and explain what he had learned that day. When he spoke, his voice was soft and low, barely above a whisper. "I have always found that if I listen quietly to others, I can learn what I wish to know without arousing curiosity. I rode with a scouting party today, and while we found no soldiers nearby, my time was not wasted. Men like to talk just as women do, but today the braves spoke only of the war. Little Crow has refused to turn over his captives before talks of peace begin. While there are some braves who think the captives ought to die, there are two powerful chiefs, Wabasha and Taopi, who want to bring the war to an end. They will see the captives come to no harm."
"What?" Erica found Viper's comments difficult to
comprehend. "You mean the chiefs are openly disagreeing with Little Crow?"
"Yes, they have all along. I told you a Sioux is free to follow his own conscience even in time of war. Little Crow has still another problem, though. He commands those here who wish to fight, but the chiefs Red Iron and Standing Buffalo are Upper Sioux
who want no part of the uprising. They will not allow Little Crow to move fsirther north and cross their lands."
"And the army is moving up from the south?" Erica asked, a bright flicker of hope now lighting her eyes.
"Yes." Viper was pleased she had grasped the situation so easily and he relaxed enough to smile.
"What of the settlements east of here, those near the Big Woods?"
Realizing she had not understood Two Elk's words, Viper explained quickly so she would also know about the stockades. "There is no point in raiding east now that the towns are so heavily fortified. With the way north blocked by Red Iron and Standing Buffalo, the way south blocked by the soldiers at Fort Ridgely, and by the chiefs here who are anxious for peace, how long do you think Little Crow will continue to fight?"
"I suppose that will depend on how proud a man he is," Erica replied perceptively.
"He is very proud," Viper admitted, "and he has beaten the army many times."
"He knows everything that you do?"
"No, he does not know that when he sent his message refusing to free the captives to Sibley, the man who commands the volunteer Army, Wabasha and Taopi sent along a message of their own. That is a secret they think only their mixed-blood messenger knows," Viper revealed with a sly grin, "but he has friends."
Erica stared at her husband for a long moment, wondering if she should have been so quick to promise his words would go no further. But surely Sibley would realize from the conflicting messages he had received that there was a great deal of dissension among the chiefs. "By seeking peace on their own, aren't those chiefs guilty of treason?"