The weary Ahousat men paddled slowly in the direction their war chief indicated.
Fighting Wolf and his men set up camp near some large boulders on the stony beach of the point. He surveyed the men gathered around the large fire. Many of his straggling warriors on the sea had been beckoned to safety by the bright leaping flames. Several familiar faces were missing, but the storm had spared more men than Fighting Wolf had dared hope. Those men who had not shown up by now, well, he would just have to assume the worst.
There was much to do before they could push on to the Hesquiat winter village. Canoes had to be patched, food hunted, and the wounded tended.
Things were quiet for the moment, and Fighting Wolf relaxed, looking into the dancing orange flames as though in a trance. Ever since the storm, he had been unable to tear Sarita from his thoughts. He mused about what he would say to her.
He admitted again that he loved her. This time he felt more comfortable with the thought. No longer could he think of her as a possession, a woman to be used and thrown aside when another attractive female came along. Now he realized he wanted her, and their child, with him for the rest of his life.
Years suddenly stretched before him. Without her, there would be only emptiness. But with her, those years would be filled with joy and happiness. Oh, there would be angry times, he couldn’t deny that, but he knew he loved her enough to accept those, if he could only have the good times.
He thought back over his treatment of her. He’d used her, he realized now. He’d expected that she’d always be there for him to come home to. That’s why he’d been so angry when she’d left. Not only was his pride hurt that she could leave him, but he’d needed her to be there for him. When she’d gone, he’d felt sorely, savagely betrayed.
With her, he’d begun to feel alive again. He’d begun to love again, after that cold, dark period of his life when he’d been afraid to feel, afraid to love ever again. She’d brought him the gift of life, and in return, he had walked on her pride, her love, and for what?
Revenge. He almost choked on the word. How paltry it seemed now. To sacrifice someone so precious, for an ideal like revenge. All his life he’d heard how he should revenge the wrongs done to his people, done to him. Since he was a young boy he’d been taught that vengeance against his enemies was noble, the correct and honorable thing to do. But the events of his own life had proved to him how wrong such notions were. All those people who’d taught him—his father, his uncle, others—were wrong. He’d paid a high price for following their dictates so blindly. Vengeance had cost him the woman he loved.
He hoped she would understand his changed thinking. He loved her and wanted her back, but he couldn’t blame her if she wanted nothing further to do with him.
He agonized over the possibility that she’d refuse to marry him. Surprised at the direction of his thoughts, he realized marriage was what he wanted. She would be his equal, honored and protected, walking with him through life. And, he added with satisfaction, in his bed at night.
His thoughts rested briefly on her child. His child, too. He had no doubt of that. He squirmed inside as he remembered the last night he had held her in his arms. She’d asked him then if he’d allow his child to be born into slavery. He hadn’t seriously considered her question. Now he realized he could never allow a child he loved—and he already loved this child—to be born a slave. To let his own flesh, a child of his own blood, be raised as anyone less than the noble he or she deserved to be, was an excruciating thought.
Otterskin approached. “Some of the men are asking if we’re heading back to Ahousat. I’ve told them I’m awaiting your orders.”
Fighting Wolf looked at his faithful lieutenant, “We’ll be heading for the Hesquiat winter village.”
“But, sir. Some of the men heard your chant to Qua-utz—“
“And they heard me promise to cease my quest to enslave the Hesquiat woman?” finished the war chief, a glint in his eye.
The other nodded sheepishly.
“I may have ceased my quest to make her a slave, but we will continue on to Hesquiat. My business there is not finished,” explained Fighting Wolf tolerantly. “As far as the men are concerned, I have every intention of keeping my vow to Qua-utz.” He paused, then ordered, “We leave in the morning. Tell the men, and make the necessary preparations.”
Otterskin nodded and turned away to carry out the orders. Watching him walk away, Fighting Wolf smiled to himself. Like his men, he had no wish to incur Qua-utz’s wrath. But he knew too that he had not given his word lightly. He would abide by what he had promised.
Chapter Thirty-Five
With dawn’s first light, the Ahousat warriors paddled closer to their destination. They traveled quickly, their paddles dipping rhythmically into the green sea. Heading into the quieter, inside waters, Fighting Wolf recognized the inlet described by his “uncle.” Soon they would come upon the Hesquiat winter village.
The fjord-like inlet gradually narrowed, but the water remained deep. The weak morning light showed charcoal colored cedars rising from the rocky shoreline and melding into thick forests. Gradually, the damp mist muted the charcoal to a lighter gray.
Along the smooth surface of the water skimmed a kingfisher, searching out its breakfast below.
After several miles of journeying, Fighting Wolf signaled a halt. As previously planned, half the men paddled over to the narrow rocky beach on one side of the narrow pass. The war chief watched approvingly as they hid their canoes in the thick tree line, then melted into the forest. The last to leave was Otterskin. He waved to Fighting Wolf before he, too, disappeared silently into the thick undergrowth. Otterskin and his forty men were to sneak through the forest and silently surround the Hesquiat village.
Fighting Wolf was confident the hidden men would provide the protection he and his remaining men would need when they paddled openly into the Hesquiat village.
Should Fighting Wolf be attacked, Otterskin would immediately storm the village. Should Fighting Wolf be greeted in peace, the hidden Ahousats would stay in the woods. The Hesquiats need never know they were surrounded.
There was a slight bend in the rocky shoreline. If his old “uncle’s” directions were correct, the Hesquiat winter village should be just ahead. A loud yell went up as the Ahousats rounded the point. Fighting Wolf was surprised to hear the shouted warning. He hadn’t expected the Hesquiats to post guards in such an isolated location.
Paddling slowly, his retinue of forty-two men arrayed behind him, Fighting Wolf approached the shore where the village sat perched against a backdrop of cedars. Standing up in the precarious canoe, he balanced himself evenly. One of his warriors sprinkled white eagle down over Fighting Wolf’s head. The Hesquiats should realize from the gesture that he came in peace.
He watched, outwardly stoic, inwardly alert, as several Hesquiat warriors ran down to the rocky beach. Apprehensively, he noted they were armed with mus-kets. Someone, it looked like Feast Giver, ordered the men into a neat formation, their weapons pointing at the slowly approaching Ahousats. Behind them, stood a row of men holding sharp, pointed wooden lances. A few men holding bows and arrows formed the last row.
“Formidable,” muttered Birdwhistle. His voice carried across the water. Fighting Wolf did not reply.
He watched as the Hesquiats stood their ground. He grudgingly admired their disciplined ranks.
Feast Giver’s shout broke the tense silence. “That’s close enough, Ahousats! Any closer and we’ll shoot!”
Drawing himself up to his full height, aware that he made an easy target, Fighting Wolf called back, “We’re here to talk. We do not come to fight!”
“You lie, Ahousat! We know how you like to fight!” sneered Feast Giver.
Fighting Wolf heard his men mutter angrily at the slur. They bitterly resented hearing their leader labeled a liar. Ignoring the animosity around him, he responded in a calm voice, “If we wanted to raid your village, Hesquiat, we’d come at night, not in t
he full light of day.” He paused to let his words sink in. “Look at my men. Do you see any weapons?”
“Weapons are easily hidden, Ahousat!” snapped Feast Giver warily. “What do you want?”
First drawn by the sudden stillness in the village, then by the shouts, Sarita watched in disbelief as the Ahousats paddled slowly up to the rocky shale beach. Seeing Fighting Wolf standing proudly in his canoe, she felt tears gather in her eyes. She realized anew how much she loved him. Her breath caught as she heard Feast Giver shouting his questions at the Ahousat war chief. She couldn’t bear to see Fighting Wolf shot down in front of her. Why, oh, why, had he come? She strained for his answer.
“I want to talk with you and your father.”
“You can talk from where you’re standing, Ahousat!” came the hostile answer.
Drifting ever closer, Fighting Wolf raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?” He shrugged casually. “Well, if you really want to discuss personal details about your family in front of the whole village—“
Feast Giver shifted his glance to the men awaiting his orders. His eyes caught his father’s form coming out of the longhouse. It was obvious from his hurry that Thunder Maker had heard the last exchange. Pausing to speak in a low voice with his son, Thunder Maker then called, “You say you want to talk, Ahousat!”
“That’s right,” agreed Fighting Wolf.
“Very well. You can come ashore. Alone. Your men stay in their canoes, where we can keep them covered.”
Fighting Wolf hesitated. If it was a trap, he would be defenseless, alone with the Hesquiats. On the other hand, his men could retaliate. They were armed. He’d had no qualms about lying to Feast Giver. The Ahousat warriors’ weapons lay ready on the floors of the canoes.
“I agree to your conditions,” answered Fighting Wolf. “Provided we stand on the beach, where my men can watch.” Seeing Thunder Maker’s nod, Fighting Wolf continued, “But let me warn you. If you harm me, my warriors will kill every man, woman, and child in this village!”
Satisfied that the Hesquiats thoroughly understood his threat, Fighting Wolf stepped out of the canoe and walked up the rocky beach, flanked by a belligerent Feast Giver and a silent Thunder Maker.
Once out of earshot from the others, Feast Giver halted abruptly. “Say what you came to say, Ahousat. Then leave!” Thunder Maker remained silent, and Fighting Wolf assumed he agreed with his son’s words.
“I know you’re holding my sister, Precious Copper,” began the war chief. He was rewarded with a guilty start from Feast Giver.
“Lies,” blustered the young man.
“No, not lies,” replied the Ahousat evenly. “She was seen in your village and I’ve come to take her back home with me.”
Feast Giver looked silently at the Ahousat, then at his father. Thunder Maker maintained his silence. Stepping into the breach his father refused to fill, Feast Giver said, “Why should we give her up to you? Have you any ransom to pay for her?”
Feast Giver was stalling, but he could not bear to let the beautiful Precious Copper go. If she went back to the Ahousat village, his chances of ever seeing her again were negligible.
“No, I have no ransom with me,” admitted Fighting Wolf.
“Then what are you wasting our time for?” scoffed Feast Giver. Maybe he could yet keep Precious Copper…
“The matter of a ransom is a small one,” stated the Ahousat arrogantly. “I can easily send for whatever you ask and have it shipped from my village.”
“Not good enough.”
Realizing they were at an impasse, Fighting Wolf mentioned conversationally, “I’ve also come for Sarita’s hand in marriage.”
For a moment, the two Hesquiats looked stunned. They both quickly recovered, however, and Thunder Maker spoke up first. “You what?” he asked, disbelief echoing in his voice. “After what you’ve done to her, to me, to my son, you have the effrontery to come to this village and ask for my daughter’s hand in marriage?”
“I’m not asking, I’m demanding,” cut in the Ahousat brusquely.
Thunder Maker was shaking his head. “This is too much. I cannot believe such insolence.”
“Believe what you will, old man,” responded the war chief. “But I’ve come to take my sister home and to take your daughter with me, as my wife.”
Thunder Maker drew himself up to his full height. “The answer is ‘no,’” he stated. “I want it clearly understood. You will not take your sister back with you. She will no longer be a hostage, but a Hesquiat slave.” The older man did not notice his son flinch at the hard words. “She’ll stay in our village and work for us.”
Thunder Maker paused, impaling his opponent with a steely eye. He was gratified to note the flush of anger on the Ahousat’s face. “As for my daughter, Sarita, I absolutely refuse to enter into any marriage negotiations with you.”
“Why not?” bit out an enraged Fighting Wolf. He struggled to keep a calm façade.
“Because Sarita is going to marry the Kyuquot chief, Throws Away Wealth.” Thunder Maker gloated to himself as he watched the astonished Ahousat digest these words.
“What?” demanded a now-furious Fighting Wolf, all pretense of calm forgotten.
“That’s right,” responded Thunder Maker calmly. He hugged himself in delight at being able to thwart the Ahousat’s plans so easily. “She can’t marry you because I’ve already promised her to the Kyuquot.” Seeing the Ahousat’s fury, he added uneasily, “The Kyuquot chief has many warriors.”
The threat was not lost on Fighting Wolf. “That dog! The Kyuquot is a cowardly fighter!”
“Oh? And how would you know that?” asked Thunder Maker, his uneasiness intensifying.
“Because I fought him,” sneered Fighting Wolf, his thoughts racing. His initial burst of fury past, his mind raced, busy plotting how he could still have Sarita. “I and my men beat him soundly when he raided us last summer. The cowardly Kyuquot ran back to his village with his tail between his legs.” It was plain from the look on his face that Fighting Wolf relished recounting the victory over the Kyuquot.
Thunder Maker coughed uncomfortably. “That proves nothing, Ahousat,” he said. “You’re probably lying…trying to intimidate me.”
“Probably,” agreed Fighting Wolf laconically. His eagle eyes watched his prey. “Are you intimidated?”
“Not at all,” responded Thunder Maker quickly.
Fighting Wolf noticed the sweat beading the older man’s brow. He smiled to himself. “Nevertheless,” he suggested smoothly, “I suggest you forget the Kyuquot’s marriage suit and entertain mine, instead.”
Thunder Maker stared at him for a moment. “That I refuse to do,” he said stubbornly.
“Why not?” asked Fighting Wolf, curiously. He was merely playing with Thunder Maker now. The Hesquiat was a fool not to know the Ahousats would make better allies than the weak Kyuquots.
“Need you ask?” snorted Thunder Maker. “I don’t trust you,” he snapped.” After the last ‘marriage’ we went through with you…well, just let me say that I will not be victimized by such treachery again!” With those words, he turned on his heel, obviously dismissing the Ahousat war chief.
“Not so fast, Thunder Maker,” said Fighting Wolf. A determined note in his voice made the older man turn.
A shiver passed through the Hesquiat chief as his eyes locked with the piercing ebony eyes focused on him. “What do you want? We have nothing more to say to each other.”
“I want,” said Fighting Wolf evenly, “my sister and Sarita.”
“Are you deaf, Ahousat? I said ‘no’ to both demands.” The older man turned to walk away once more.
“You’re in no position to defy my demands,” shot back Fighting Wolf coolly.
“Watch what you say when you’re in my territory,” warned Thunder Maker. “This is my village. My men have mus-kets trained on you. One word from me and you’re a dead man. Now, if you’ll excuse me—“
“Tell your father,” said Fighting Wol
f, turning to the ignored Feast Giver, “that unless he wants his village destroyed, he’ll return my sister.”
“What can you do, Ahousat?” sneered Feast Giver.
“My men have your village surrounded,” said the war chief casually.
Feast Giver stared at him. “You’re bluffing,” he said softly.
“Am I?” smiled Fighting Wolf pleasantly. The flash of white teeth was gone in an instant.
“Nuwiksu,” called Feast Giver, not taking his eyes off the war chief. “Come back here. There are a few more points to discuss.”
Hearing the warning note in his son’s voice, Thunder Maker reluctantly padded back to the two antagonists. “I’m waiting,” he said, impatiently.
“The Ahousat has our village surrounded,” said his son curtly.
Thunder Maker sized up the handsome face turned to him. “He’s bluffing,” he announced and started back to his longhouse.
“Can you afford to gamble your people’s lives on that one guess?” asked Fighting Wolf politely.
Thunder Maker stopped and seemed to argue silently with himself for a moment. When he turned back to the two men, there was a look of resignation on his face. “All right,” he said wearily. “Let’s get this over with.”
For a long while the two chiefs debated their positions while Feast Giver looked on. Finally, seeing that his father would not be swayed from his intention to enslave Precious Copper, Feast Giver spoke up. “I think you should both know,” he began, “That I wish to marry Precious Copper.”
As one, the two disputants turned to stare at him. “What?” they asked in unison.
Thunder Maker sputtered, “Of all the—“
He was cut off by Fighting Wolf’s roar. “No! Absolutely not!”
When silence reigned once again, Feast Giver said with dignity, “I love her and I want to marry her.”
“Impossible,” responded Fighting Wolf. “I won’t allow my sister to marry you. She can find a far better man.”
Savage Betrayal Page 35