White Beaver stepped closer to the horse when the young colonel offered a handshake.
“I would also like to attend the wedding,” Colonel Mooney said, eagerly shaking White Beaver’s hand. “I would enjoy becoming involved in all affairs of your village, and people. Until I met you, Strong Wolf, I greatly feared Indians. Now I wish to know more about them, to be with them.”
“And that can easily be arranged,” Strong Wolf said. “It will pleasure me to share our people’s customs with you.”
A great explosion in the distance, that which shook the earth beneath everyone’s feet, drew the conversation to a quick halt.
Having felt the explosion—it having even awakened Swallow Song—Hannah, Clara, and Swallow Song came from the cabin in a run. Hannah and Swallow Song clutched Strong Wolf’s arm as Clara went to cling to White Beaver.
Another explosion rocked the ground. A billowing of black smoke shot suddenly into the sky.
“That seems to have come from the direction of the mystery cave,” Strong Wolf said, watching the smoke turning the sky to something similar to black ink.
He turned to a young brave. “Saddle my horse!” he shouted.
White Beaver ran and got his own steed. Many warriors followed.
“I wish to come with you!” Hannah cried as Strong Wolf swung himself into his saddle.
“The child, Hannah,” Strong Wolf said, reaching down to place a gentle hand on her cheek.
“Then, please be careful and hurry back to me,” Hannah said, trying hard to remember that she must not ride a horse now, or do anything else that might risk the child’s life.
The Potawatomis and the soldiers rode off in the direction of the smoke.
Hannah sighed heavily, then gazed at length at the buggy she used while on her outings with Strong Wolf.
“No, Hannah,” Clara said; she seemed to have read Hannah’s mind. “We really mustn’t.”
“What can it hurt, Clara?” Hannah said, then gave Swallow Song a look when Swallow Song placed a gentle hand on her arm.
“Come inside, Hannah,” Swallow Song said in a motherly tone. “We will sit beside the fire while we wait for our men to return.”
Hannah sighed, then nodded. “Yes, let’s,” she said, flanked on each side by women she loved. Clara took her right hand. Swallow Song took her left.
They went inside Hannah’s cabin and sat by the fire.
To get their mind off their concerns, Clara read a novel, Hannah worked on Christmas decorations, and Swallow Song untied long tasseled strings that bound a small brown buckskin bag. She spread many colored beads on a mat beside her. On a lapboard she smoothed out a double sheet of soft white buckskin so that she could make a new pair of moccasins.
When they heard another blast, they glanced at each other, then lowered their eyes again and resumed their hobbies.
Chapter 42
Life goes on forever
like the gnawing of a mouse.
—EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY
“Clem, hurry up and get those rocks away from the cave entrance,” Tiny said, his fingers raw as he continued to throw one rock over her shoulder, and then another. “Damn dynamite. It ain’t worth spit. We should’ve been able to get inside that cave by now.”
“Just quit your jawin’ and keep on workin’ at it,” Clem said, throwing rocks aside as others slid in the way. “We’re almost there, Tiny.”
“Yeah, but will it be soon enough?” Tiny growled, looking guardedly around him. “One blast of dynamite was all that was needed to draw those damn Injuns here. I’m sure they even heard the blast at Fort Leavenworth. That’s all we need. To have both the soldiers and Injuns breathin’ down our necks. Hell, Clem, I heard there was enough gold in here to last a lifetime.”
“Who told you?” Clem asked, glad that he had run across Tiny again recently during a poker game at the back of a saloon in Saint Louis. “Was it a reliable source?”
“Sure as hell was,” Tiny said, laughing boisterously. “He had just read an account of this mystery cave in some book or another. He was trying to recruit someone who knew the area. I spoke up quite quickly and told him that I knew everythin’ about this damn mystery cave.”