He rose to his feet, grabbing a headband, and placing it around his head. “Ready two horses,” he said flatly. “Yours and mine. I will be at the corral soon, Four Winds. We will ride hard, hopefully to soon overtake those braves who have decided to do that which should have been debated in council.”
Fully clothed, Elizabeth stepped from behind the curtain. “Four Winds, prepare three horses for travel,” she said, her hands on her hips. “I am also going.”
Strong Heart turned and faced her. He knew her stubborn nature, and her determination to stop the attack on her father, but he had not expected her to want to go.
And although she thought that what he was readying to do was solely for her benefit, it was not. His motive in this was a selfish one—to protect his people. He knew that if the Suquamish braves succeeded, the repercussions against their people would not be worth the victory. The white authorities would come to his village and take away those who were responsible for the fire and perhaps the murders of some white people. They would be hanged. And then the people of his village would be forced to move to a reservation, where they would lose all of their freedoms—all of their joys.
He did not want Elizabeth to slow him down. Already they had taken too much time in talking.
He went to her and gently took her face into his hands. “It is best that you do not go,” he said, his voice slow and measured. “The journey will be done at a hard gallop so that we will be able to get there in time. My la-daila, it is late. Go to bed. This time tomorrow night I will be warming the blankets with you again.”
Elizabeth stuck to her guns. “No matter what you say, I am going,” she said. She stepped away from Strong Heart and glared at Four Winds. “Go and prepare three horses. If you don’t, then your journey will be slowed by having to wait for me to get my horse ready, myself, for I am going!”
Strong Heart gave Elizabeth a long, frustrated stare, then turned and nodded to Four Winds. “Prepare three horses,” he murmured. “We shall be there shortly.”
Four Winds looked from Elizabeth to Strong Heart, then nodded and left with hurried steps.
Elizabeth turned to Strong Heart and flung herself into his arms. “Thank you,” she cried. “Thank you for not ordering me to stay behind. If you had, I’m not sure what I would have done. I would not have wanted to embarrass you in front of Four Winds. Thank you for not giving me cause to.”
Strong Heart stroked her long and flowing hair. “I do not embarrass all that easily,” he said, chuckling. “But it is best that a woman does not show defiance to her man in front of friends. Tonight it came close to that, but I closed my eyes to it. Your reason for behaving this way was understandable. No matter how evil your father is, within your heart there will always be a corner reserved for the man who helped give you breath and life.”
Tears streamed from Elizabeth’s eyes. She was so grateful to this man whose compassion ran so deep.
“But I do worry about how you can stay in the saddle through the long night when you have yet to have any sleep,” Strong Heart said, easing her from his embrace, and holding her at arm’s length.
“Do you not recall the nap you and I took early this afternoon, anticipating the late hours of the celebration?” Elizabeth asked, wiping tears from her eyes. “I rested well then, Strong Heart. I am fine for the whole night of travel. Honest, I am.”
“Ah-hah,” he said, smiling down at her. “I believe you are.” He walked away from her and grabbed his rifle, then nodded toward her. “Let us leave now. Let us hope that when we return it will be with a light heart.”
“Yes, let’s,” Elizabeth vowed, rushing from the longhouse with him.
Four Winds had brought the saddled horses to the house. As Strong Heart and Four Winds swung themselves into their saddles, Elizabeth leaped into her own, her heart pounding. She feared that they would be too late.
As they rode from the village, she tried to keep her spirits high. Courage was now needed as never before.
* * *
Elizabeth had known the ride would be excruciatingly hard, for she had been on this same journey enough times now to know how tiring it was to stay in the saddle for so long. She had managed to keep up with Strong Heart and Four Winds the long night through and soon they would be arriving at her father’s place. To her chagrin, they had not caught up with the Suquamish who had left before them.
The sky was just lightening along the horizon when Elizabeth’s gaze was jerked upward. She was quickly overcome by a horror when she saw the flames of a great fire in the sky.
“No!” she cried. “We’re too late!”
She broke away from Strong Heart and Four Winds and urged her horse into a hard gallop toward the dire signs in the heavens. The nightmares that had troubled her now rushed back into her consciousness. She recalled the fire, and how she had been trapped in it.
Surely the nightmare had been an omen. Yet those trapped within the flames were her father, and sweet, innocent Frannie, and all of the other servants. They must have been asleep when the fire had been set. Surely they had had no chance of getting out alive.
Guilt ate away at her for how she had turned her back on her father, even though he had deserved it.
Now she would never have a chance to tell him that, no matter what he did, she loved him.
And neither would he have a chance to redeem himself of his crimes.
When she reached the outskirts of her father’s estate, she could see the flames engulfing both the house and the fishery. She almost fainted from the sight. Nobody could have survived the fire. And even though she had Strong Heart’s devoted love, this was the worst moment in her life.
She quickly dismounted, and had to force herself not to go farther, but to stay hidden in the shadows of the forest. She couldn’t allow anyone to see her or Strong Heart. She did not want Strong Heart to be blamed for the fire.
Elizabeth gnawed on her lower lip as she frantically looked for her father and Frannie among the spectators watching the fire. When she saw them both, as well as the other servants, clustered together outside the tall, old gate, she cried with relief.
Elizabeth then searched around her for those who had set the fire. When she found no sign of Strong Heart’s braves anywhere, she realized that they had left the minute they had seen that their fires had caught hold.
Breathlessly, Strong Heart and Four Winds dismounted close to Elizabeth, their eyes on the fire.
Strong Heart went to Elizabeth and swept an arm around her waist. Together they witnessed Morris Murdoch ride up, and dismount close to Earl.
* * *
Morris squinted his eyes as he gazed at the roaring flames and the falling walls of the house as it swayed in the brisk wind that blew across the Sound.
“I saw the smoke in the sky from my home,” Morris said thickly. “Somehow I knew it was your house—and our fishery. I notified the firehouse. The fire wagon should be arriving soon.” He turned wondering eyes to Earl. “Earl, what happened?”
“All I know is that the screams and shouts of my servants awakened me and then I smelled the smoke and saw flames leaping up to the second floor of the house,” Earl said, nervously raking his hands through his hair. “I barely got out alive. If not for the rope bolted to the floor in my room, to be used as a fire escape, I . . . I . . . wouldn’t be here to tell about it.”
“You didn’t see anybody?” Morris prodded. “You don’t know how it got started?”
“The house is old,” Earl said, his voice thin. “We’ve had a few problems with our fireplaces. Faulty flues. I guess that’s how it started.” He gazed down at the flaming fishery, his heart sinking as he watched the building collapse into a pile of burning rubble. His whole world was falling apart before his very eyes. “I . . . I . . . guess the wind carried sparks from the house to the fishery. It’s gone, as well.”
* * *
Elizabeth’s head jerked as she saw a movement in the forest behind her out of the corner of her eye. She turne
d and grabbed Strong Heart’s arm. “Darling, I just saw the elderly Indian again,” she said in a rush of words. “Your grandfather. I saw him over there.”
Her words trailed off when the old Indian stepped into full view, leaning on his staff, his faded old eyes gleaming happily as he watched the flames eating away at the house. At close range, Elizabeth saw that the man was short, thin, and bowlegged. His gray, unbraided hair was worn to his shoulders, and he had a benevolent face. He looked like an aging philosopher whose strength had waned, yet whose mind was still active.
Stunned by the sight of his grandfather, Strong Heart stared at him for a moment. But when Proud Beaver’s eyes turned to him in recognition, the spell was broken and Strong Heart could not get to his grandfather quickly enough. He went to him and embraced him.
“My grandson, my deed is done,” Proud Beaver said in a gravelly voice. “Please take me home—take me back to our people.”
Strong Heart parted from his grandfather, an eyebrow lifted. “Deed?” he said, his eyes locked with his grandfather’s. “What deed, Grandfather?”
As his grandfather’s gaze shifted and stopped again on the raging flames that lit the night like daylight, he smiled triumphantly. Strong Heart followed his stare, and without being told, understood that it had not been the braves who had set the fire.
“The fire,” Proud Beaver said, nodding. “It is my doing, not our braves who came shortly after I had set it, bearing their own lit torches. When they saw the burning house, they fled quickly. I did not allow them to see me. I did not yet want to leave. It pleasured me too much to see that which desecrated our hallowed ground for so long finally destroyed.”
He smiled at Strong Heart. “I also destroyed the fishery,” he said happily. “It was easy. The fires burned swiftly. My heart sang while watching it.”
Fearing for his grandfather’s life, Strong Heart whisked him away into the shelter of the forest. Elizabeth and Four Winds followed, leading the horses behind them.
Strong Heart turned his grandfather to face him again. He placed a gentle hand on his frail shoulder. “Grandfather, I have been searching for you for so long,” he said. “Only recently did my search become a desperate one.” Strong Heart lowered his eyes, hating to be the bearer of sad tidings.
But knowing that he had to do it, he began speaking again, but this time in a low, almost apologetic tone.
“Grandfather, in your absence there has been a raid causing much bloodshed and devastation at our village. But your daughter and Chief Moon Elk lived through the raid. I was not there at the time of the attack because I was searching for you. I then returned to find you and to take you back so that you could mourn the deaths of those you loved. Again, I did not find you. Yet here you are. How is it that you were so elusive, and now you are here, allowing yourself to be seen?”
“There is a cave that tunnels down through the earth, and stops at the far end beneath the house that I have set fire to tonight,” Proud Beaver said softly. “I have been living there, finding the relics of the Suquamish dead, and burying them where they belong, in the earth of our people. Now our ancestors can finally rest in peace.”
“Ah-hah, that is so,” Strong Heart said, drawing his grandfather into his arms, hugging him tightly.
Feeling the tears welling against her lower lids, Elizabeth placed a hand to her mouth, and stifled a sob that this tender scene between grandfather and grandson had evoked.
She then looked through a break in the trees at her father, glad that he was at least alive. She wondered what he was going to do now, now that his dream had died in flames.
But she didn’t have much more time to think about it. Strong Heart was lifting his grandfather into his saddle. Then he helped her into her saddle and swung himself in front of her.
Strong Heart reached a hand out for Four Winds, their hands clasped tightly. “My friend, come soon to our village,” Strong Heart invited. “Come and join the potlatch that precedes my marriage to my la-daila. Bring your woman. Let us be married together!”
Four Winds smiled over at Strong Heart. Elizabeth thought it a bashful sort of smile. Then Four Winds rode away toward Seattle without a word.
Elizabeth clung to Strong Heart’s waist as he nudged his heels into the flanks of his horse, and they were quickly riding through the forest.
* * *
The firewagon made its arrival. But it was too late. And even though Morris suspected that Indians had set the fire, he didn’t tell anyone. He had his own plans of revenge. He had found the destroyed nets in the river and he knew who was responsible.
He rode away without saying anything about it to Earl.
* * *
Downtrodden, with Frannie trailing behind him, her face sad and covered with ashes, Earl went to his ship, the only thing that he had left in the world. He had lost his daughter, his home, and business. He had lost his wife a second time, it seemed, for she had not made any more overtures toward him. And, except for faithful Frannie, he had dismissed his other servants.
He leaned against the ship’s rail, staring up at the smoky remains of his house, and at what remained of his fishery. He had no reason to live now. His thoughts strayed to the small derringer that he kept hidden beneath his bunk in the master cabin.
That could end it for him, quickly.
Fearing his mood, Frannie hurried behind Earl as he entered his cabin. He was too quiet—his eyes seemed like a man’s who no longer had hope. She didn’t know what he might do in this state of mind, and hoped that she could stop it.
She almost ran into him when he stopped abruptly.
Earl was shocked by who he found standing in the shadows, a lantern giving off only a faint light to see by.
“Marilyn?” he gasped. “What are you doing here?”
Frannie said nothing, only stood by in surprised silence. She had never forgiven Marilyn for leaving Elizabeth, but now she hoped that Marilyn could be her master’s salvation tonight—a night when she had seen him lose everything. The only other time, when they had met recently, Frannie had divined something in Marilyn’s eyes and voice that proved that she still loved Earl.
“I saw the fire in the sky and since it seemed to be coming from here, I couldn’t help but come to see for sure,” Marilyn said, moving closer to Earl. She was lovely tonight in a flame-red velveteen dress with black lace at its high throat, and at the end of the long sleeves.
Her hair was hanging long and free down her back, seemingly an extension of the dress, with its brilliant red coloring.
“When I saw the house on fire, I realized just how much I still wanted you—how much I still love you,” Marilyn continued softly. “Earl, if you can find a way to forgive me for what I have done since having left you, I promise that I will start all over again with you. The life that I have been leading is not at all what I want. I . . . want to be with you. Under any circumstances, I want to be with you.”
“But I have nothing now,” Earl said, his voice breaking. “Nothing at all to offer you. All of my money, except for what I can get from the sale of this ship, was tied up in the fishery. And it is gone. I’m broke, Marilyn. Virtually broke. I have nothing left to offer. Nothing.”
“You have yourself,” Marilyn said, placing a gentle hand to his ash-begrimed face. “Darling, I will discharge all of my girls. The house can be a real home, where you and I can live as man and wife and grow old together.”
Feeling as if God had seen his remorse and, knowing that he was contemplating suicide, He had sent Marilyn to him for his salvation, Earl tearfully drew her into his arms.
Their tears mingled, they were so glad to have found each other again.
Frannie turned her own eyes away, hope now rising inside her for her own future. Without Master Easton, she had no future. She sure enough wasn’t prepared to go and live with Elizabeth and her Indians. She feared Indians more than she feared living alone.
* * *
Daybreak came with a glorious sunrise, and also
with the thundering of many hooves as the Suquamish braves’ horses fell into stride on both sides of Strong Heart’s and Proud Beaver’s. They had obviously seen Strong Heart arrive to observe the fire, and had hidden in the forest, waiting for him to turn back toward the village, before joining him.
Strong Heart glared from man to man, silently condemning them for having gone behind their chief’s back to do as they pleased, even though it was for the best of reasons.
But he was glad that they were blameless for the fire. Now there was only one man to blame, and no one would ever think he was the arsonist.
That made it easier to forgive the braves, and ride with them on toward their village.
“I’m so tired,” Elizabeth said, laying her cheek on Strong Heart’s back. “Strong Heart, I know that I said that I could withstand this long ride, but now I’m not sure if I can. Another half day on the horse will be too much for me. Please let’s stop, Strong Heart. Please let me rest awhile.”
Realizing that if Elizabeth complained, she was actually deadly tired, and he could not see himself forcing anything on her. He glanced up at his grandfather who rode proud and sure in his saddle, and then over at all of his braves. If they all stopped, the chances were that someone might come along and put two and two together, thinking they were all responsible for the fire.
But if only he and Elizabeth stopped, it would look less conspicuous; it would look innocent enough.
He raised a fist in the air and shouted to the braves to stop. And after explaining that the braves should go on, and accompany Proud Beaver back to their village, Elizabeth and Strong Heart were alone. A campfire was soon going by a meandering stream, and Elizabeth slept in Strong Heart’s arms.
Strong Heart drifted off too and was not aware of a lone horseman riding his horse in a soft trot beside the campsite. The horseman’s eyebrows raised as he saw Strong Heart and the white woman lying at his side—this was a strange sight, indeed.
He rode onward, his eyes gleaming. He had found something to laugh about when he reached Seattle and visited his favorite saloon.
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