Tender savage

by Conn, Phoebe

  "Recuperate?" Sarah whispered hoarsely, her brown eyes wide with fear.

  "Yes," Erica insisted, refusing to believe the worst as Sarah obviously did. "We can make plans on the way."

  When she reached her room, Erica hastily folded three of her new gowns, and placed them in a leather satchel. She added a nightgown, a change of lingerie, tossed in her

  toilet articles, and after adding a substantial amount of cash, considered herself ready to def>art. Returning to the first floor, she asked Anna Ferguson to send her father a wire so he would be expecting them, then kissed her goodbye. She grabbed her cloak, took S2irah by the hani and was out of the house within twenty minutes of having received her father's wire. At the Randall home, she rushed Sarah with her packing and enlisted the service of not only their driver, but also a young groom. While she doubted two women would be molested on the highway when the war had created so much traffic. Erica thought having an extra man along would prove useful if Maik needed help to walk.

  They traveled only as far as Elkton, Maryland their first night, but the next day they were up before dawn and covered half the distance to Baltimore. The third night they stopped at an inn outside that bustling town on the Chesapeake. In another day and a half they reached Washington, D.C. Despite the fact that she was eight years younger than Sarah, as they entered the hospital Erica was still very much in chargjje of their mission, as indeed she had been of the whole trip. She walked up to the nurse at the front desk in a businesslike tone asked where a doctor by the name of Lars Hanson might be found.

  The nurse needed only one glance at the remarkable blue of Erica's eyes to correctly guess she must be Lars's daughter. She quickly sent for him and he appeared at the desk almost immediately. He was embarrassed that he had not been home or written since Erica's return from Minnesota, but he had simply not known what to say to her. She had always been tar more headstrong than her dear mother, but that she had chosen to live openly with an Indian brave was not something he could excuse as easily as Mark had. It seemed to him to have been a totally immoral and unprincipled thing for her to do, but the instant he saw his daughter his shame at her scandalous behavior was instantly Forgotten. He swept her off her feet in a boisterous hug, then noticing she was not alone, he set her down gently and smiled as he greeted Sarah.

  "Miss Randall, isn't it?" he asked in his most charming manner. He thought she resembled Mark slightly, but her features were far more delicate than her brother's, making

  her a very attractive young woman.

  Sarah stared up at Lars a moment too long, then blushed deeply, but she had never met Erica's father and had had no idea he was such a young and handsome man. That she would notice such attributes at so inappropriate a time horrified her, however. "How do you do, Dr. Hanson. May we see Mark now?" she asked primly, hoping he had not noticed how boldly she had been staring at him.

  "In just a minute." Lars stepjDed between the two women, and taking each by the arm, he escorted them outside to the garden where the afternoon air, while cool, was not bone-chilling. "Mark has been here nearly a week. While his chances for survival grow better each day, he has been severely injured, and I don't want you to have unrealistic hopes for his recovery when there is no way it can be guaranteed."

  Erica had frequently heard her father use similar words with relatives of his patients when he wished to soften the impact of his prognosis if the outlook wasn't good. She took a deep breath, then insisted he tell them the truth. "Nothing you can possibly say can be worse than what we imagined on the way. It's been such a long and tiring trip, but if we can see Mark for a few minutes it will be well worth our trouble. Just warn us what to exj^ect."

  Lars nodded, thinking his daughter wise to make that request. "I think you better sit down first." He indicated the bench where he and Mark had once stopjjed to talk. He admired his daughter's courage, but he could tell by the way Sarah was shaking with dread and clutching Erica's hand that she was almost totally lacking in that quality herself.

  Clearing his throat, he began to describe Mark's condition. "I think an artillery shell must have exploded almost in his face. He suffered a severe head wound as a result. There's no way I can remove all the fragments of the shell from his brain but—" Lars stopped in midsentence as Sarah gave a small cry of alarm and fainted in a graceful heap across Erica's lap. "What did I say?" he asked with a helpless shrug.

  "Oh Daddy," Erica scolded. "Sarah has been so upset she would have fainted no matter what you said, but you

  might have been a httle more diplomatic. Is there a place she can lie down for a few minutes?"

  "Every bed we've got already has someone in it, sweetheart." Moving to her side, he plucked Sarah from the bench and started back toward the hospital with her in his arms. "We'll be lucky to find a vacant chair," he called back over his shoulder.

  Erica ran along behind him, if possible more frightened than Sarah because she knew what the wound her father had been describing meant. "Has Mark been conscious at all?" she asked apprehensively.

  They entered the back door of the hospital and Lars turned down a dark hallway, which led to the small room he used as his office. He placed Sarah in the chair at the desk and began to rub her wrists. *'A few times, yes, but very briefly. He was coherent, though, and that's a good sign.

  "Did he ask for me?" Erica whispered with deepening dread.

  "Yes, he did." Leaving Sarah to rest quiedy for a moment, Lars turned to face his daughter. He pulled her into his arms for another warm embrace, then began to apologize. "I've done all I can for him, baby, and it's precious little, I'm afraid. A head wound this severe mi^t affect not only his memory, but his ability to think, as well. His hearing may be impaired, and while it makes me sick to tell you diis, I'm almost certain he'll be blind."

  Erica felt worse than sick at that announcement, but still grasped for any hope he could offer. "But you're not positive?"

  "Well no, I'm not absolutely positive about anything as yet. Right now, I 'm just trying to keep him alive. There are four days until Christmas. If he's still with us then, I think the worst will be over, but there's a good chance he'll never be really well again."

  Erica sighed sadly as she rested in her father's arms. She had had time on the journey to Washington to become resigned to the fact that her own plans would have to be postponed indefinitely. At nearly two months her pregnancy didn't show at all, but she knew it would only be a matter of weeks before it did. If Mark were still seriously ill then, she feared it would be extremely difficult for him to

  accept the news that she was carrying Viper's child. For the time being, however, she knew that wasn't going to be her main concern.

  "Can I stay with him? I'm certain I know more than any of the nurses here do." Erica took her father's hands as she stepped out of his arms. "Sarah has a close friend at whose home she can stay, but I want to be here when Mark wakes."

  "Dorothea Dix has recruited the nurses for the army," Lars confided with an easy grin. "She refuses to accept women who are either pretty or young, so I know your presence will be appreciated by all the men here. Since Mark's condition is so grave, I will see you're given special permission to live in the nurses' quarters and tend hmi; as for Sarah—" he looked down at her then and was relieved to see she had begun to stir. Dropping his daughter's hands, he knelt down by her side.

  "Are you feeling better. Miss Randall? I didn't mean to give you such a scare. If you're feeling up to it, I'll take you to see Mark. I know he'll be glad you're here."

  Lars Hanson's deep blue eyes were level with hers, and again Sarah found herself thinking his looks and charm wonderfully appealing. Again appalled by a rush of emotion she considered highly inappropriate, she struggled to sit up. "I'm sorry to be so silly. It's just that my feother is very dear to me, and I can't bear to think how horribly he must be injured." She attempted to focus her gaze upon the seams in her kid gloves rather than the handsome blond doctor, but that effort proved totally unsuccess
ful and she again found her gaze drawn to the comforting warmth of his smile.

  "You'll find him no less handsome," Lars assured her. Rising to his feet, he offered his hand. "He'll probably be sleeping, but I'll let you see him for a few minutes. Then I want you to get settled wherever it is you are staying. Tomorrow, when you're more rested, I'll arrange for a longer visit."

  "You are very kind," Sarah whisj>ered shyly. She had never felt so inadequate with a man, but she feared a physician must think very little of a woman who would faint at such slight provocation. "I know Mark is in very good hands."

  "Thank you, but unfortunately—" Lars gasped then as Erica jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. Realizing his daughter was warning him to keep still, he gave her an embarrassed smile and gestured for her to precede them as they left his office. "It's the second ward to the right. I put Mark next to the widow, since it's the most cheerful spot in the room."

  Sarah gave Lars another shy smile, and gathering all her courage, she managed to walk to her brother's bedside without allowing the heartbreaking sight of the heavily bandaged young men occupying the ward's other beds to unnerve her. As Lairs had predicted, Mark was asleep, but other than the thick bandage that covered his crown and dipped down over his left eye, he appeared uninjured, and her heart swelled with hope. "He looks very good, doesn't he. Erica?" She leaned down to kiss Mark's cheek lightly, then gave his fingers a loving squeeze. Smiling happily, she turned to look up at Lars. "He's going to be all ri^t, isn't he?"

  The fact that Sarah desperately wanted to hear him say yes was not lost on Lars, but he never lied to a patient's family, and he would not begin with her. "I have done all I can. Miss Randall. Mark's recovery is in God's hands now."

  While Sarah seemed reassured by that noncommittal response, Erica wasn't fooled. She walked around to the other side of the bed. As her hand covered Mark's she felt for his pulse and silently counted its rhythm. He was young and strong, and those were invaluable assets in overcoming the effects of any injury. He was also an architect, with wonderful dreams for the future. If he were to recover his health, but not his sight, would he have a future he would think worth living? Fate had dealt her another cruel blow, but Erica clutched Mark's hand tightly, knowing that for as long as he needed her, she would have to stay. She had once promised to love Mark, no matter what awful thing happened to him during the war, and that was not a vow she would break now.

  When news of President Lincoln's decision to spare all but thirty-nine of the condemned men reached the Sioux,

  Viper could scarcely contain his joy. His first thought was that Erica would again be his and that at that very moment she must surely be on her way back to him. Like the other braves, the executions that finally took place on December 26 affected him deeply, but even the profound sorrow of that day did not dim the bright flame of hope that burned in his heart.

  He spent the winter with his fellow prisoners in Mankato, each day expecting to receive a letter or to be told Erica had arrived to see him, but neither a letter nor Erica herself appeared to lighten the grim tedium of his days. Through Stephen Riggs's efforts the prison served as a school, and Viper found himself recruited to help the missionary teach those who could not do so how to read and write in their own language. To his surprise he discovered he had some talents as a teacher, and was soon drawn into the prayer meetings RiggsandDr. Williamson held. His only thought being to please the woman he still considered his wife, when more than three hundred prisoners were baptized he was among them. He had fought all his life against accepting the religion of the white man, but after having escaped the hangman's noose by so narrow a margin, he felt too great a kinship to Christ to continue to deny the truth of his teachings. While Erica had never once asked him to accept her religion, he hoped that his having done so would please her. The fact that he had still not heard from her both puzzled and pained him, however.

  At the height of the uprising. Governor Ramsey had demanded that the Sioux be driven beyond the state borders. That cry was enthusiastically taken up by the citizens of Minnesota and continued when the hostilities were over. The settlers wanted to be rid not only of the Sioux, but also of the peace-loving Winnebago, who had taken no part in the uprising, but who occupied prime farm lands. In December, Minnesota Senator Morton S. Wilkinson and Ckjngressman William Windom introduced bills in Congress designed to relocate the Indians to agricultural lands beyond the border of any state. On February 21, 1863, the Winnebago Act became law, followed by the Sioux Act on March 5. It was decided both tribes would be relocated on land bordering the Missouri

  River, in the Dakota Territory.

  When navigation resumed upon the Mississippi River i in the spring of 1863, the prisoners at Mankato were i selected as the first ^oup to be escorted from the state of Minnesota. On April 22, they were chained in pairs, and under heavy guard to discourage reprisals from irate i citizens, they were taken aboard the steamboat Favorite, ' bound for Camp McClellan near Davenport, Iowa. There was a brief stop at Fort Snelling where the forty-eight men i acquitted of all charges were put ashore along with the nearly two dozen women who had served as cooks for the prisoners. They were to join the seventeen hundred Sioux, predominantly women and children, who had spent the winter there to await relocation with them.

  As the Favorite pulled away from the docks. Viper caught sight of Song of the Wren. With an anxious glance she was searching the faces of the prisoners standing on deck, and when she saw him she began to smile and wave excitedly, but he turned his back on her. She was a pretty girl; perhaps one of the newly freed men would claim her, but Viper would not waste even so little as a wave of his hand on her himself. By some quirk of fate, he had been chained to Claw of the Badger, who easily recognized Wren and began to tease him. ^

  "There is one of your women, and you will not even i look her way?" He waved then, but Wren seemed unimpressed and did not return the gesture.

  Viper did not respond to the heavy-set man's question. Granted reprieves, their uneasy truce had held, but neither had any love for the other. It had been six months since Viper had said good-bye to Erica, and his only interest was in being with her again. Since she had not come to him, he was determined to go to her. Escape had been impossible in Mankato, but as he watched their guards stroll the decks of the Favorite, he began to devise a plan. Unfortunately, it would have to be a plan to which Badger would have to agree. Knowing the brave to be a scoundrel, however, he thought it very likely he would.

  Viper chose dusk as the time for the escape. He waited until the Favorite was rounding the wide curve of the Mississippi above Camp McClellan, then whispered the last of his directions to his partner. Badger nodded,

  understanding the importance of waiting until the guards : had walked past them to jump. They had taken a place at the port rail, carefully judged the distance to the water, and adopted the same expressions of bored nonchalance they had worn for months. Knowing each could rely on the other to show the courage needed to follow through on am attempted cscajje, on the count of ten they scrambled over the rail and plunged headlong into the river.

  Badger's heavier weight pulled Viper down deeper than he had expected to go, but he did not struggle to swim to the surface until the steamboat had passed overhead. Then he matched his strokes to Badger's and swam up and toward the shore at an angle. When their heads appeared at the surface, shadows caused by the rapidly approaching night hid them both from the soldiers view. They could hear men shouting to each other, and one trooper fired, but having no target in view, his shot did not come anywhere near them. Treading water until the steamboat was far in the distance, the two prisoners swam awkwardly to shore and pulled themselves out laughing heartily at finally having outwitted the army.

  His wagon parked by the river for the night, a flamboyant peddler by the name of Percival McBridge had witnessed the braves' escape. Picking up his rifle, he trained it on them as he walked their way. "Don't come any closer until we come to an understanding,"
he called out in a voice too cheerful to sound like a warning.

  Their ankles chained together. Viper and Claw of the Badger were on their hands and knees. Water poured off them forming little rivulets in the mud that surrounded them, but despite their bedraggled appearance, neither looked defeated. They looked dangerous still, and while Percy admired their daring, he dicCi't get too close.

  "Best wife I ever had was one of your people. She got disgusted with me, though, took our babies and went back home, but I've never forgotten her, and I always try to give a Sioux a helping hand whenever I can." He was in his late forties, and while the incident to which he referred had taken place some twenty years earlier, it was still one of his most vivid memories. He had had an inordinate fondness for the Sioux ever since.

  Viper glanced toward Badger and saw in the evil light in

  the man's eyes that he was thinking the same thing he was: they could rush the man, overpower him, and shoot him to death with his own rifle. Viper was smart enough to realize that would only set more people on their trail than there already were, and he discarded the idea immediately and sent Badger so threatening a glance that he discarded it, too. Sitting back on his heels, he raised his hands. "If you are a friend, you will be one of the few white men who is. Let us go. We mean you no harm."

  While he was inclined to help them, Percy was curious about their plans. "Looks like you must be part of the braves the army is sending down to Camp McClellan. I can understand why you don't want to go to prison, but what are you gonna do now? You can't go tramping around chained together like that. Hell, anyone who sees an Indian is likely to shoot him. I'd say you are in bigger trouble than you were on that boat."