Georgina, Tiny thought smugly to himself.
Yep, he had plans for that sonofagun songbird whose happy warbling would soon be silenced. He would never again have to watch Mia pamper it with pieces of apple or any kind of fruit that she found in the forest.
“You’ll have to find your own tidbits, little bird,” Tiny whispered, only loudly enough for the bird to hear.
Yes, he had mapped out a plan to take his vengeance against a young woman who rankled his nerves and who insulted him anytime she liked because he was the hired help, and beneath her.
He did not see why she had any right to behave so grand, when she was just the daughter of parents who enjoyed spending part of the year on water instead of in their home on dry land.
Yep, despite Mia’s pretty, innocent smile, she was nothing but a river rat.
Yep, he’d take her down a notch or two when she found the birdcage empty on the morrow.
Of course, she would know who’d opened the door of the cage, but that didn’t matter none to him. He knew his days were numbered under the employ of Mia’s father.
So be it.
So were her bird’s!
He reached for the cage, which was covered by a soft cloth that Mia carried with her only for that purpose. As Mia prepared herself for the night, she also prepared her beloved canary. She felt it deserved privacy as it slept, as did she.
Careful not to shake the cage as he lifted it from the table, which might cause the bird to squawk a warning to Mia, Tiny dared not even breathe as he tiptoed his way to the door. He had purposely opened it after he knew that Mia and her father were sound asleep.
Yep, he had mapped out a plan, and by jove, he would succeed. He could hardly wait to see Mia’s expression when she found the empty cage.
The bird was always the first to get her attention in the mornings. She would remove the cloth and feed the canary, then smile as the bird began its warbling.
To Tiny, the dratted singing seemed to go on forever. He would be happy never to hear that bird again. He would prefer Mia’s anger at him when she found the bird gone over the constant noise the creature made.
He had so often wanted to snatch that thing from its cage and wring its neck!
But this plan seemed better.
The bird would surely die quickly out in the wild. Perhaps, even, a hawk might sweep down from the sky at daybreak and eat the bird as its breakfast!
That thought brought a wicked grin to his whiskered face.
He tiptoed out of the cabin and took the bird cage beyond the open gate of the fort. When he reached the darkening shadows of the trees that sat back from the river, he set the cage on the ground, then chuckled as he opened the door and waited for the bird to fly out of it.
But the bird just continued to sit on its perch, eyeing Tiny with its small, black eyes. It looked at him so trustingly, Tiny could not help feeling a quick pang of guilt.
“You sonofagun, stop lookin’ at me like that,” Tiny said. He picked the cage up and shook it, hoping to loosen the bird from its perch.
But the canary clung to the perch with its tiny claws, its eyes still peering directly into Tiny’s. Tiny set the cage on the ground again.
“Well, seems I’m going to have to give you some help,” Tiny grumbled.
He reached his hand inside the cage, only to get a finger nipped by the bird’s sharp beak.
“Ouch!” Tiny exclaimed, rattling the cage as he yanked his hand free. He sucked on his sore finger.
His eyes narrowed angrily as he again bent low and gazed directly into the bird’s eyes. Then without wasting any more time, he quickly reached inside the cage and grabbed the bird. He drew his hand out, opened it, then watched the canary fly upward and perch on a limb just above Tiny’s head.
Suddenly he saw a tiny white glob of something falling away from the bird. Tiny knew what it was, but couldn’t get out of the way before it landed on the very tip of his nose.
“Lord a’mighty,” he groaned, swiping the mess from his nose. He doubled a fist and held it up in the air, waving it at Georgina. “You stupid bird. Fly. Scat. Get outta here. And if you drop one more mess on me, I’ll grab you and kill you. I’m tired of messing with you. Do you hear? Fly! Fly!”
Suddenly Georgina took wing and flew away. With the canary’s disappearance, Tiny was overwhelmed by guilt.
He knew that the bird wasn’t used to being free to fly. More than likely it would be so disoriented, it would fly right into a tree and fall to the ground, easy prey for any animal that might happen along.
“What am I doing?” Tiny said, running his fingers through his whiskers. “Worrying about that bird?”
He shook his head, then grabbed up the cage and hurried back inside the cabin. He put the cover on and waited for morning and Mia’s reaction.
As he stared down at Mia sleeping there so innocently and trustingly, he could not help feeling guilty for depriving her of something that meant so much to her.
“But she deserves this, for the way she has treated me,” Tiny whispered, trying to justify what he had done.
“Yep, you’ll soon see that you cain’t push people like me around. If you do, you’ll live to regret it,” he said, yawning as the lack of sleep closed in on him.
He smiled toward the covered cage, then stretched out on a blanket in front of the fireplace and soon fell into an uneasy sleep, with dreams of the canary coming toward him, twice its normal size, its claws widespread and ready to attack him.
He awakened with a start. Sweat was beading up on his brow.
He went to the door and slowly opened it, then gazed outside to see if the bird had returned. When he saw nothing, not even any sign of the owl, he went back and sat down before the fire.
This time, he stayed awake. He wasn’t ready for more nightmares about giant canaries!
Chapter Seven
Money of th’ earth brings harms and fears,
Men reckon what it did, and meant,
But trepidation of the sphere
Tho greater far, is innocent.
—John Donne
As shadows lengthened all around them, Wolf Hawk and his warriors rode into their village bearing the dead bodies of the two youths, their futures snuffed out long before their prime.
A huge fire was burning in the center of the village. It was built each evening in preparation for the lengthy night ahead, when animals prowled and the fire was necessary to keep them out of the village.
The fire’s glow fell upon the face of Dancing Fire as she stepped out of her lodge at the sound of horses approaching the village.
Wolf Hawk saw the sudden horror in her eyes when she spotted her sons hanging, lifeless, across the backs of the horses.
Their stillness, the way they were placed on the two steeds, the blood that had spread onto the blankets wrapped around them, was proof that her worries had been confirmed.
Dancing Fire ran toward the approaching warriors. Her arms were outstretched before her, her hands visibly trembling, as she began wailing and crying her sons’ names. The rest of the village people came from their lodges, joining her mourning when they saw what had caused Dancing Fire’s horrible distress.
Wolf Hawk felt a terrible ache in his heart at the loss of two such promising braves, who would have one day become proud warriors to help protect their clan. He drew rein where Dancing Fire now stood, her face wet with tears that would not stop until she could cry no longer.
“Why?” Dancing Fire cried as she pleaded with Wolf Hawk with her bloodshot eyes. “Where…did…you find them?” She shuddered as she gazed from one son to the other. “There is so much blood.”
“I will explain, but first let us get your sons laid out for all to mourn over,” Wolf Hawk said.
He truly hated having to spread the word of exactly how these brave young men had so needlessly died.
All knew of such traps, which could capture more than animals. But none of his people had ever been hurt by one before. Whit
e trappers had never ventured so near their village in the past.
But now Wolf Hawk realized his intuition had been right. He had felt an uneasiness that he’d shared with his grandfather, a fear that white people would begin to intrude on Winnebago territory. He was beginning to understand why those feelings had come to him on this day.
He wished only that he had paid more heed to what his heart had told him and searched the forest. If so, he might have found the white trappers. He might even have stopped their evil before the two braves’ lives had been snuffed out.
Well, he would find the culprits now. They would pay for their crimes! He would not rest until it was so.
Lovingly, the fallen youths were taken from the horses and placed upon pelts near the central fire. Their eyes were peacefully closed as though their spirits hovered near.
Their mother knelt between the two boys, a hand on each as Wolf Hawk stood tall over them. He slowly turned and gazed at his people before speaking.
Tears shone in all of their eyes. A look of horror was captured on their faces. Fear as well as the pain of having lost two of their young ones had captured their souls.
They all stood quiet as they awaited their chief’s words.
“Wolf Hawk, how…?” Dancing Fire asked, her voice filled with emotion. “Please…tell…me. Tell me now.”
“Your sons died in the white man’s steel traps,” he said as he gazed down directly into her eyes.
He saw the horror of his words register in them, and knew that she understood too well how her children had died.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Striped Arrow, a warrior with much honor among Wolf Hawk’s people, who had been standing solemnly beside his wife, his own son on his other side, stepped up before Wolf Hawk.
“White trappers are in our forest?” he demanded. “We must find the evil ones and stop them,” he said. He slid his hand down, to rest upon the knife sheathed at his right side. “Now, my chief. Now!”
“It will be done,” Wolf Hawk said. He turned again to gaze lovingly, yet sorrowfully, into Dancing Fire’s eyes. “Their deaths will be avenged.”
“We are a peaceful people,” Dancing Fire said as she returned his gaze steadily even though her heart was breaking at today’s losses.
“Our peace has been disturbed, two lives have been taken. We must make certain it does not happen again,” Wolf Hawk said. He gently placed a hand on Dancing Fire’s shoulder. “While you mourn your sons, a search will begin for the evil white men.”
He stepped away from her and turned to look from one warrior to the other. “Before night falls completely upon us with its darkness, we must go and search for those who have brought grief into our people’s hearts today,” he said tightly. “Separate into three groups. Each ride in a different direction. Carry your rifles. I want to bring the culprits in alive if we find them. We will decide the way they will die, later.”
They all nodded, then ran to their horses and rode from the village.
Those who rode with Wolf Hawk fanned out through the forest to begin their search. Their eyes scanned in all directions for movement or any signs of the trappers.
After riding for a while, Wolf Hawk saw something a short distance from his horse that filled his heart with keen, passionate anger. He had found several traps filled with dead animals.
When he saw movement in one of the traps, his anger escalated, for this animal had not died yet, although its fur was matted against its body with blood. It was evident the creature was suffering terribly.
The animal, a beautiful red fox, sensed the nearness of the warriors and turned its head to look directly into Wolf Hawk’s dark eyes. For a moment, Wolf Hawk and the fox became as one, and Wolf Hawk could feel all its pain.
Wolf Hawk did not hesitate.
He leapt from his horse. He bent low over the animal, then grabbed his knife from its sheath.
Again, he looked directly into the animal’s eyes. “My friend, I will end your suffering,” he said, then did what he had to do, although thrusting the knife into the beautiful animal made him heartsick.
Ho, yes, he had taken the lives of many animals during the hunt. But he had never left any behind to suffer. His aim had always been accurate.
He turned and gazed up at his warriors, who were still on their horses, gazing down at him.
“Search diligently, my warriors, for any more animals that might be suffering like this one,” he said thickly. “Do as you must if you find any. Then gather up all the dead animals and bag them; also gather up all the traps you find. Make a travois to transport the traps. Take them to our village. Leave them near my lodge. I will destroy them so no one can ever use them again.”
They traveled onward, searching for more traps, but found none.
They did come upon something else, however…two abandoned horses.
“Two horses mean there are two men,” Wolf Hawk said, dismounting.
The horses were tethered beside a small stream where they could drink and where there was tall, fresh green grass for them to eat.
It was strange to Wolf Hawk that the trappers who owned these beautiful steeds could treat them so well but never stop to think about the suffering they brought other animals.
He stroked the brown mare first, and then the strawberry roan, as he looked from one horse to the other.
There were saddlebags on each.
He looked into one of them and saw clothing, some provisions, and a flask that had water in it.
It was obvious that these two horses had been left behind while those who owned them had fled the area on foot, no doubt after the discovery of the two dead braves.
He could envision the evil ones’ fear, even taste it, upon finding that they had caught more than animals in their traps. They had killed two boys and they knew that those boys had homes, and families who would seek to avenge their deaths.
“These horses belonged to the trappers,” Wolf Hawk said, stroking a thick mane. “But what puzzles me is why they would leave them behind? Where will they go without them?”
“Perhaps they will return for them,” one of his warriors said, edging closer to the strawberry roan.
He reached out and stroked its withers. “This is a fine steed,” he said. “It is muscular. It is beautiful. It is well fed and healthy. How could anyone abandon it?”
“Fear causes many misjudgments,” Wolf Hawk said. “The white men are running from their misdeeds. They must realize that the wrath of the Winnebago people will come down hard on them if they are found.”
“But why not flee on their horses?” another warrior asked. “Would not it be faster?”
“When you are filled with fear like these men must be feeling, logic is not a pure thing inside the heart and mind,” Wolf Hawk said bluntly. “They must have run instinctively upon their discovery. They are probably still running. Perhaps they were afraid to take the time to return for their horses. That is all I can make of their decision to abandon them.”
“It may be they will still return for them,” another warrior said.
“They forgot not only their horses in their haste to escape what they had done,” Wolf Hawk said as he stepped away from the animals. “They forgot that our people are fine trackers. I am one of the best. My warriors, all of you return home with the pelts and traps and these two horses, which are now ours. I shall search for the tracks of these two men. If I find their tracks, I will follow and discover where they have gone.”
He grabbed his horse’s reins and quickly mounted. “My warriors, when you arrive home with the traps and the pelts, leave the traps just outside my lodge,” he commanded. “Remove the pelts from the animals that have been found in the traps and give both the meat and the pelts to the mother of the two fallen youths.”
Each warrior gave a nod, then continued collecting the pelts, while others made a travois for the traps. When this was all done, the warriors all turned their steeds in the direction of their homes and
rode away.
Wolf Hawk rode back where he and his warriors had found the dead boys, and when he arrived there he leapt from his steed.
He held the reins as he looked for the tracks that had been made by the trappers, and when he found those leading away from the traps, he led his horse behind him as he walked slowly alongside the tracks. To his disappointment, they soon led him to the river. There they stopped. But he saw no white men anywhere.
He fell to a knee beside the river, examining the tracks more closely.
He was confused as to how the trail could go as far as the river and then disappear, for the men had arrived in Indian country on horses, not boats.
“Where could they have gone?” he whispered to himself, angry at this turn of events.
He hated to think that those men might never be found and made to pay for their crimes. But they seemed to have sprouted wings, as Wolf Hawk did in his hawk form, for how else could white men just disappear into thin air?
He gazed at the darkness that now lay thick around him. The moon became visible as clouds slid away from it.
Darkness had fallen so quickly, it seemed as though a dark cloak now clung to Wolf Hawk.
He hated the fact that he would have to return home and tell the mother of the fallen youths that their murderer had gotten away and would surely never be found.
That meant vengeance might never be achieved for Eagle Bear and Little Bull!
Disgruntled, Wolf Hawk mounted his steed and rode back in the direction of his home.
He knew where he must go. Back to Shadow Island, to seek advice from Talking Bird, who held wisdom concerning all things.
Wolf Hawk just couldn’t believe that he would never find the trappers. He must! He could not give up.
Surely the trappers would return to hunt again. The rich furs that could be had in this forest were too tempting to ignore.
Ho, they would surely feel that it was safe again later and would make the mistake of returning to the land where they had spilled Winnebago blood.
Chapter Eight
Savage Abandon Page 5