Tender savage

by Conn, Phoebe

  When he returned to camp that evening, Viper found Erica waiting in their tepee. She had been stirring the stew simmering over the coals,but she jumped up to welcome him home with an enthusiastic hug and a flurry of sweet kisses. Relived that she appeared to have passed the day without incident, he was quick to return her show of affection. "You had no problems today?"

  "No, none at all. I didn't see Wren. I hope she is too embarrassed to come near me, because I certainly don't want to see her again."

  "You know I meant to have her apologize to you, but when I went to her family's tepee toaay I was told she has gone to visit relatives in one of the other camps. I do not

  want to take the time to look for her."

  Relieved by that news. Erica was swift to agree. "I think that's a wise decision. We have trouble enough without having to search for it. Are you hungry? This is another of your aunt's dishes, and it certainly smells good. I think she was trying to be more pleasant today. It's somewhat difficult to tell, because she seldom smiles at me, but I think she was trying as hard as I was to get along well."

  After she had ladled the stew into bowls and sat down to eat with him. Viper began to chuckle to himself. He thought Erica was both beautiful and charming, but he knew others might think different. "It is a good thing my friends cannot see us now, for an Indian woman prepares her husband's food and then eats her own when he is finished."

  "Really? What a curious custom," Erica replied, too hungry to consider adopting such a practice herself. "Isn't that rather lonely for them to eat separately?"

  When Erica looked up at him, her eyes were such a lovely shade of blue that Viper knew his world would be a desolate place without the joy her presence gave him. "I think it began as a show of respect, but yes, it would be lonely. Had I taken an Indian wife, though, I might not have noticed."

  Understanding his joke. Erica laughed with him. "I know, Indian women are quiet, while I am talkative, but to whom can I talk if not to you? Perhaps it is a good thing your friends are not here, because I would not want to embarrass you."

  Viper hesitated a moment, hoping he had not hurt her feelings. "I like talking with you, since you have important things to say. We have always shared our meals together, too. I follow few of the old ways, Erica, so I hope you will not find it difficult to live with me."

  Surprised his mood had so suddenly turned serious. Erica reached out to caress his thigh. While his buckskins were soft, she could feel the toughness of the muscles beneath, and giving him a lovine pat, she withdrew her hand before thoughts of his sleek body made her forget what it was she had wanted to say. "These are difficult dmes. Viper, but I am very happy with you. You are a wonderful husband. Truly you are."

  That the enchanting creature at his side thought so highly of him made Vij>er very proud. "Since Wren has left, we need stay here no longer. Can you be ready to leave in the morning?"

  Erica was positive he was teasing her then. "I know your aunt will be disappointed, since I am such a wonderful helper, but yes, I think I can be ready to leave when you are."

  "Good, because I do not want to leave you behind."

  His hearty laughter gave that threat away for the joke it was, and Erica laughed again, too. "You see, you need me to eat with you. Who else would laugh at your jokes as often as I do?"

  Viper put his arm around her shoulders to give her a loving hug as he replied, "If you think I need you only to laugh at my jokes, you are very wrong."

  As he flashed a wicked grin, the love that shone so brightly in his eyes provided all the reassurance she would ever require that his need for her more than equaled her own for him. Tomorrow they would embark on a journey that was bound to be fraught with peril, for there would be the ever present danger they might be stopped by the army. They had managed to elude patrols on the way north, but that might prove to be far more difficult when traveling south. Yet Erica's heart was so filled with love for her handsome husband that she had little room for fear. She was certain whatever trouble they encountered, he would be able to protect them both.

  While Erica's trusting smile was a delight. Viper prayed that by following his conscience he had not chosen a path that would endanger her life as well as his own. Since he had no way of knowing what the dawn would bring, he promised to make the night another they would never for^t. "Let's go down to the river," he suggested as he set their empty bowls aside, and knowing exactly what he had in mind. Erica was as eager to go as he.

  In September, Mark Randall returned to Washington when General John Pope was recalled to account for the disastrous defeat the Union Army had suffered at the Second Battle of Bull Run. It was then that the conscientious lieutenant received his first news of the two-week-old uprising in Minnesota. His initial reaction was one of stunned disbelief, swiftly followed by stark horror as he realized his beloved Erica must surely be in the most terrible danger possible.

  He had had his fill of the brutality of war and could not bear to think the woman he loved might have witnessed the very same senseless carnage he had been forced to view time and again since enlisting in the army. He had truly believed she would be safer living with relatives in Minnesota thain remaining alone in Delaware while he and her father were away serving in the army. All his thoughts had been focused upon protecting her from the pain of needless suffering while the war raged, but he had never dreamed the choice he had forced her to accept might cost her her life.

  "How could I have been such a stubborn fool?" he cried out in an anguished sob. Erica had wanted so desperately to marry him and create a home in Wilmington, a home in which she would have been completely safe, if only he had let her impassioned pleas and tears sway him. Had she known what lay ahead? Had she had a premonition of the

  danger that awaited her in Minnesota? Had any of her tears been caused by dread of the future rather than by the sorrow of their parting? Those questions pierced his heart with the pain of the sharpest of arrows, for he feared he might never be able to ask them, nor ever again hear the sweet sound of her voice as she replied.

  To add to his heavy burden of g^ilt, Mark knew that in all of Minnesota Erica could not have gone to a worse

  Clace than New Ulm. He read the newspaper reports of the attle there until he had memorized each gruesome phrase, for they provided a fascinating, if grim, account of the citizens' heroic defense of their city. Thirty-four had been killed and sixty wounded, but there was no list of names attached to those frightening statistics. Not knowing whether the vibrant young woman he loved was alive, dead, or gravely injured was the worst torture Mark had ever been forced to endure. Praying her father would have more information, he hurried to the army hospital where Lars Hanson had been assigned, but it took him more than an hour of combing the overcrowded wards to find the physician.

  The Union's losses at the Second Battle of Bull Run had been massive. In the final days of August nearly two thousand men had been killed and more than eight thousand wounded. The injured were still being sent from field hospitals to Washington for care, and Lars was so numb from overwork and lack of sleep that he did not recognize the tall lieutenant striding down the hall until Mark was within six feet of him. He then reached into his pocket for the telegram from the Ludwigs, which his housekeeper had forwarded to him. Knowing the moment he had been dreading had finally arrived, he took the precaution of directing Mark outside where the air did not reek of the vile stench of death before he handed the young man the brief message.

  "Erica was taken captive on August 23. I've received no further word from her aunt and uncle." In an attempt to judge Mark's commitment to his daughter, Lars studied the young man's expression closely as he read the wire, but he could discern little other than the same sense of horrified shock he had felt upon learning of Erica's plight. He had had several days to consider his only chila's fete,

  and his voice was bitter as he continued. "There are so many wounded in need of medical care, my request for leave was denied. If you wish to go to Minnesota
to search for Erica yourself, I must warn you to be prepared for what you may find."

  Mark could not help but notice the change in Lars's appearance and manner since they had left Wilmington together in June. While they were both a good deal thinner, the physician's attitude had always been friendly, never bordering upon open hostility as it seemed to be that day. While the subject of Erica's survival certainly demanded a serious response, Mark was nonetheless alarmed by Lars's mood. Confused, he scanned the physician's stem expression, hoping for clues to help him identify the emotion that had prompted the unexpected warning. The intensity of Lars's dark blue gaze only puzzled him further, however. Mark had always considered Lars charming, if somewhat aloof, but there was not the slightest trace of charm in the man standing opposite him that day. Did Lars no longer turn to brandy to dull the pain of his existence? Was that what he was seeing? Mark asked himself—a man who now faced the worst life had to offer without constantly trying to escape it in the numbing warmth of alcohol?

  Thinking perhaps he had never really known Lars Hanson at all, Mark refolded the telegram and returned it to him. "I'll not find the fighting there worse than what I've already seen. I'll ask for a leave within the hour. If it isn't granted, then I'll simply go without it, but I'll not leave Erica in the hands of savages a minute longer than I have to," he declared emphatically, taking his clue from the blackness of Lars's mood and allowing it to darken his own.

  Realizing the young man had completely misunderstood him, Lars gestured toward the path that led to the carefully tended rose garden at the rear of the hospital. "Come take a walk with me." As Mark fell in beside him, he tried to put the cause for his depression into words that would be more easily understood. "Do not think me unfeeling, for I love my daughter dearly, but there are some ordeals from which a young woman never fully recovers. If Erica has been abused, she may turn away from

  all men, even those who love her. It is possible she will not be grateful if you are the one to rescue her. Your presence might only deepen her shame."

  Infuriated by the physician's remarks, Mark clasped his hands behind his hack to force back the nearly overwhelming compulsion to throttle Lars Hanson. "If by abuse you mean rape," he began between tightly clenched teeth, "I will show Erica such loving kindness she will soon realize she has no reason to fear me. I would not taunt her with cruel reminders of what she has suffered, but instead provide her with hope for a future filled with love. I wish to God we had been married in June. If we had, then she would not have come to the slightest harm. I will never forgive myself for p>ostponing our wedding. Never. My reasons were simply ludicrous in light of what has happened to her."

  "You blame yourself for this, then, and not me? After all, I was the one who insisted she go to New Ulm. You were merely going along with the decision I made," Lars reminded him.

  Lars's sorrow was deeply etched in his expression and echoed hollowly in his melancholy tone. Mark was suddenly ashamed of himself for thinking his own pain outweighed his companion's. He reached out to touch Lars's sleeve and draw him to a halt. "Perhaps the idea was yours, but I agreed with it wholeheartedly, and I will deal with the consequences. Do the people in Wilmington know Erica is one of the captives?"

  "No," Lars replied without hesitation. "The telegram was sent to my home, but Mrs. Ferguson sent it on to me here unoF)ened. No one can possibly know more than what was printed in the newspapers, and her name wasn't given."

  Mark nodded thoughtfully, grateful for that bit of luck. "I'll leave for Minnesota as quickly as I possibly can. Once there, I promise you I will find Erica. Regardless of what has happened to her, and I pray it has not been so horrible as you imagine, we can be married there, and I'll bring her home as my wife. We will never sjDeak of what occurred in Minnesota, and I'll make certain not a breath of scandal is ever attached to her name."

  Encouraged by Mark's confident vow, Lars agreed his

  plan was a most sensible one. "Yes, I'm sure you're right. The war has caused so much confusion that am Indian uprising in Minnesota will swiftly be forgotten. I'm sorry if I misjudged you, but you must realize not every man would make such a generous offer. There are many who would simply pretend they had never met a young woman, rather than marry her after—"

  Mark interrupted then, unable again to listen to the man recite his fears whe he hoped with all his heart they would prove unfounded. "I love your daughter, sir. She swore she would love me no matter what awful thing happened to me during the war. I can treat her no differently."

  They had stopped to talk near a wooden bench placed at the edge of the garden. Too weary to remain standing, Lars went over to it, sat down, and leaned forward to cradle his head in his hands. "I hope you do not have to desert, and I also hope you understand why I can't turn my back on my responsibilities here to go with you."

  While it would not be easy for Mark to leave the men with whom he had grown close during the many weeks of fighting they had shared, he understood the uniqueness of Lars's situadon. Knowing he had at least a few minutes to spare, he chose to spend them with the man he hoped would soon be his father-in-law. Taking the place at his side, he offered Lars what reassurance he could. "I understand completely. The most difficult part of this war has been hearing the screams of the wounded and knowing I can do nothing to ease their pain. You are needed here far more than I am, for you can alleviate suffering, while I am merely a hastily trained officer who can easily be replaced."

  Lars gave a rueful laugh at that compliment. He sat up and crossed his arms over his chest to get comfortable, but he knew he would have to get back to the hospital soon. "All too often I can do little more than allow a man to die in f)eace. How many limbs do you think I amputated while I was in practice in Wilmington?"

  Uncertain, Mark shrugged, but gave the best guess he could. "I have no idea, perhaps two or three?"

  Lars shook his head. "None. I never saw anyone so severely injured as to require amputation. But here, I have

  lost unt of how many times I've had to use a saw on a young man's arm or leg. I hear their screams even in my sleep. On the rare occasions when I can fall asleep, that is."

  Mark could readily see how tired Lars was, for his fatigue showed clearly in his slumped pose and dejected expression. He was not yet forty, but looked a good ten years older than his actual age that day. "This war has been hard on us all. I had only a vague idea of what serving in the army would be like when I enlisted. I knew the Union's cause was a just one, but I find it impossible to think of causes when men are dying by the thousands and an end to the war is not even in sight."

  Lars heard his own bitterness voiced so loudly in Mark's words he couldn't listen to any more. "Put the war out of your mind, if you can. Just go to Minnesota, find Erica, and bring her home." Forcing himself to return to duty, he rose to his feet and straightened his shoulders proudly. "Tell her I've given up my reliance on brandy. That should please her. She was always too sweet to call me a drunk to my face, but that's all I've been since her mother died. Or rather, that's all I was until I came here and found I'd have to use a saw more often than a scalpel. The least I can do for my patients is to be sober, and unfortunately, all too often that's all I can do."

  As Mark stood, he doubted brandy would be of any help if he lost his beloved Erica. The pain of not knowing she was safe was so excruciating, he knew if he found her dead his life would no longer be worth living. Feeling a kinship bom of their mutual despair, he grabbed Lars in an enthusiastic bear hug. "I'll find her, sir. I promise I will."

  While Lars could not recall the last time someone had tried to comfort him in so physical a fashion, he found Mark's hearty embrace not unpleasant and smiled as the young man pulled away. "I'm sure you will. Take care of yourself, and send word the minute you have news of any kind."

  "I'll do that," Mark agreed, and cheered that he had Lars's support, he bid him farewell, confident he would have good news soon. With a determined gait he went to demand rather than request
a leave so he could rescue the woman he loved more dearly than life itself. To his amazement, he found General Pope had just been

  reassigned to Minnesota as commander of the newly created Military Department of the Northwest and given the task of battling the Sioux. While the general felt he was being banished and angrily protested his transfer, Mark was the first officer to volunteer to accompany him to his new headquarters in St. Paul. And soon after their arrival there, the earnest lieutenant left for Fort Ridgely, carrying a message from the general to Henry Sibley that encouraged the colonel to vigorously pursue the Indians and bring the uprising to a swift end.

  Sibley had more need for lieutenants than for stirring messages. The loss of nearly one hundred horses at Birch Coulee and the departure of most of his volunteer cavalry had left him with too few mounted troops to challenge the Sioux. When two hundred seventy newly paroled infantrymen of the Third Minnesota Regiment who had been taken prisoner in July in Tennessee had arrived on September 13, their officers were still Confederate prisoners. "I can send someone else to carry messages back and forth to Pope. I need officers too badly here to let you go," he quickly advised Mark.

  Since he had prepared several convincing arguments to make his stay at the fort sound imperative, Mark quite naturally agreed. "I'll be proud to serve under your command, sir. My fiancee is being held by the Sioux, and the sooner this cursed uprising is over, the sooner we can be married."

  "Good Lx)rd," Sibley moaned sympathetically. "I had no idea." At a loss for words, since he had made no progress toward the captives' release, he shook his head sadly. Then, knowing he had no way to guarantee the young woman's safety or anyone else's either, he said a silent prayer for her and explained to Mark how his presence would enhance her chances for survival.