Wild Rapture

Several Days Later

Fresh from a bath and a hair washing, Mariah felt lovely today. She was attired in a buckskin dress studded with beads resplendent in colors significant of the green earth and the blue sky, and a tunic with the most costly adornments of the milk teeth of the elk fastened in a row on front.

She had a spring in her step as she hurried toward Echohawk’s wigwam. Nee-kah had just told her that when she last saw Echohawk, he had been more alert—had even attempted standing.

This change surprised Mariah. For days now she had sat with him while he slept most of the time. And when he was awake, they had not shared in conversation. Seemingly troubled, he had stayed aloof, staring blankly into the flames of the fire, yet occasionally accepting her gentle hand on his brow, as though her being there had been enough.

He hardly said a word to her, which she thought was fortunate for herself, since she was not ready to share in conversation with him. She knew that in time she would be faced with his questions, fearing that he would immediately discover who she was. She wanted this special time with him to develop a bond between them that he might find hard to break, no matter the color of her skin or her identity.

He had questioned her only that first time about who she was, after the Mide priest’s performance. But it seemed that his memory of that moment had deserted him. It was as though he still thought that Nee-kah was with him most times.

Casting aside fears that today might be the day of discovery, Mariah lifted the entrance flap to his wigwam partway. But just before entering, she stopped and inhaled a nervous breath.

Courage.

She needed much courage to get past what could be awkward moments with Echohawk. His health had apparently improved.

Then what of his eyesight?

Wanting to get the wonder behind her, she stepped inside, stopped instantly, her heart lurching when she found herself looking into the barrel of a rifle.

Her eyes remained locked on the rifle, her knees feeling rubbery, thinking that she had not only been discovered, but was perhaps breathing her last breaths of life.

Surely Echohawk was not going to shoot her!

“Nee-kah?” Echohawk said, lowering the rifle to his side, swaying in his weakness as he settled back down onto his fur-covered platform. “I did not mean to frighten you with the rifle. When I discovered that my legs would hold me, I wanted to test the strength of my hands by holding a rifle. Soon I will be using the firearm in daily practice. I do not want to forget how!”

Her pulse racing, Mariah went weak with relief that he had meant no harm, and still did not realize who she was. She stepped further into the wigwam and moved to her knees beside Echohawk’s platform.

“No, it is not Nee-kah,” she murmured, gazing into his dark eyes, realizing that they were still partially sightless, for as his eyes locked on her, she could tell that he was not truly seeing her. There was the same blank stare, the frustration evident in his slight frown.

“Then who is there?” Echohawk said, resting his rifle on his lap. “I have felt your presence before. Your name. What is your name?”

“Her name is No-din,” Nee-kah said, suddenly entering the wigwam. She came and knelt beside Mariah. “Echohawk, do you not recall the one other time I spoke her name to you? Are you not aware that she, too, sat at your bedside and bathed your feverish brow? She fed you and gave you herbal medicines?”

“I now recall another time, but until this moment it faded from my consciousness when my fever worsened,” Echohawk said glumly. “From then on, time and everything else have been a blur. Nee-kah, only your name came to mind when I felt a presence at my side.”

He reached a hand out to Mariah and began roaming his fingers slowly over her face, causing a melting sensation to spread at the pit of her stomach. “Until only moments ago I did not realize that her presence was different from yours,” he said. “There is something unusual about her, yet I do not know what.”

“Her skin coloring, her language, and her way of speaking are different,” Nee-kah said guardedly.

Echohawk drew his hand away, recoiling now at the thought of having touched a woman whose skin matched that of those he hated so much. “She is white?” he growled, circling a hand around his rifle again, clutching hard to it. “Why is she here? Who is she?”

The moment of warmth that had filled Mariah at the mere touch of his hand on her face changed to something cold and fearful knotting inside her abdomen. She eyed the rifle warily, then looked slowly up at Echohawk again, recoiling when she saw the intense hate in his eyes and the set of his jaw.

“She is a friend,” Nee-kah said, herself eyeing the rifle. “A special friend.”

“I have only one true friend whose skin is white,” Echohawk grumbled. “That is Colonel Josiah Snelling. Others I do not trust. I have reason for this mistrust. I am here today, partially blinded, because of evil people with white skins and black hearts! Now that my mind is cleared of its feverish haze and I can think clearly, I live for the time when I can torture and murder the man with the limp and the young boy who rode at his side!”

Mariah shivered and paled at his words, having never thought that his hate for her and her father could be this strong. Her first instincts were to flee, but deep down inside, where her desires were formed, she knew that she felt too much for Echohawk to leave him. Now she must work twice as hard to make him trust—even love—her before he realized that she was in truth the lad he sought to kill!

She would volunteer her services to him in all manner of endeavor.

She would be his eyes!

“Echohawk,” Nee-kah said, placing a gentle hand to his cheek. “Do not upset yourself so with such talk of vengeance. Your father was a man of peace. My father shares in such efforts. Please try to forget those who have wronged you. Live for the future. Your people’s future. They have suffered too much already. Regain your strength, Echohawk. Use your wisdom and strength to better your people, not cause them more suffering by going into warring against the whites.”