Wild Rapture

“Not all whites,” Echohawk said, his voice a sneer. “Only those who have caused this heartache for my people. I soon will begin practicing with my weapons, to learn to fire accurately, even with my affliction. I will soon avenge my people!”

“A few white people’s lives are not worth what it could bring your people,” Nee-kah warned. “Please, Echohawk, forget your need to avenge your people, when all they want now is to rebuild their village and begin their lives anew.”

Mariah had sat stiffly quiet, listening to the debate between Nee-kah and Echohawk, fearing offering her own thoughts on the subject, then finally spoke up. “Echohawk, I am sorry for any wrong that has been brought to your people because of people of my skin coloring,” she said, reaching her hand to touch one of his, recalling so blissfully those few times that she had held on to his hand while he had slept. Even then she had known that she loved him.

Yes, she marveled to herself:

She loved him!

With all of her heart and soul!

Echohawk jerked his hand away from hers as though it were a hot coal. Again he clutched onto his rifle, glaring at Mariah, still seeing her as only shadows and light. “You have not said why you are here,” he said flatly. His gaze went to Nee-kah. “And why did you allow it, Nee-kah? She does not belong! Why would you think that she did?”

“She belongs in our village now, as much as you or I,” Nee-kah defended. “She is a woman of much courage. She, alone, saved Wild Flower and Brown Bear. In the eyes of our people she is a heroine. It was I who brought her to our village. I found her alone, weakened after being thrown from her horse. And she has asked to stay until she is stronger, and also has offered to help care for you. I saw no harm in it. And she has been dutifully at your side since.”

Echohawk’s mind was swirling with questions, finding it unacceptable that Nee-kah, or even her husband, would have so carelessly allowed a white woman into his wigwam, no matter if she was being called some sort of heroine.

Yet he was recalling the sweetness of Mariah’s voice and the gentleness of her hands, all the while thinking they were Nee-kah’s. He had not wanted to feel anything at the time, knowing that Nee-kah was married to Chief Silver Wing, but a bond had been formed, and now he knew that it was the white woman that he had begun to have special feelings for.

He turned his head away, distraught over this discovery.

“Echohawk,” Mariah said softly, “I want to do more for you now that you are stronger. Please allow it. I feel so ashamed of how your people have been treated by my people. I want to compensate, in some little way, for the harm that has befallen you. I would even like to stay at your side at all times and become your eyes until you can see. I could accompany you when you start practicing with your weapons. I could be your eyes, telling you when your aim was right or wrong. I could help you hone your skills by doing this.”

Deep down inside herself, Mariah was torn with loyalties. If she did help Echohawk hone his skills with his weapons, she had to expect that he would use those skills against her father.

Yet she understood why Echohawk wanted to kill him—was driven to.

And she felt that she owed Echohawk so much. He had lost almost everything because of her father.

Echohawk turned his eyes quickly back to her, squinting, so badly wanting to see her. When he had touched her face, he had felt its fine, delicate features, knowing that she was surely even more beautiful than Nee-kah.

“Echohawk needs no more of your assistance,” he said, his voice drawn. “Especially when I practice firing my weapons. That is a man’s work. Not a woman’s. Especially not a white woman’s! Leave. That is what would make me happy. Go. Return to your home.”

He squared his shoulders and leaned closer to Mariah. “Your home,” he said, arching an eyebrow. “Where do you make your home?”

Mariah’s insides tightened, fear grabbing at her heart. “I have no home,” she said quickly, in a sense telling the truth.

“Why is that?” Echohawk asked, again reaching a hand to her face, roaming his fingers over it. Then his hand went to her hair, gasping when he discovered its length. “Your hair! What has happened to your hair? Did you cut it while in mourning for a loved one?”

Mariah’s heart was pounding, feeling trapped. If he would put two and two together, recalling the length of the hair of the lad that had partaken in the ambush, then he could conclude that the lad, in truth, was she!

Yet she had no choice but to tell him as much of the truth as she dared to.

“If you must know, I fled an evil father who forced many unfortunate things upon me,” she said. “He even cut my beautiful hair. Tha

t is why I have no home. I was fleeing his wrath. I was on my way to Fort Snelling to seek help. But I was stopped when my horse lost its footing in the creek and threw me. I was then at the mercy of whoever found me.” She smiled over at Nee-kah. “I was fortunate that it was Nee-kah, the sweet, kind person that she is.”

Echohawk peered sightlessly over at Nee-kah. “At a time when our people had just suffered so much at the hands of white people, you dared bring one into your village?” he said, his voice sharp. “And your chieftain husband? Did he approve?”

“Gah-ween, no, not entirely,” Nee-kah said weakly. “No-din was taken prisoner. She escaped. And while escaping, she discovered Brown Bear and Wild Flower at the river. They . . . they did not notice a water moccasin ready to bite. No-din, knowing that she would be forfeiting her escape by killing the snake, shot it. This is why all of our people see her as trustworthy. This is why she is being celebrated as a heroine. So must you, Echohawk, accept this as true. Mariah is very much a part of our village now.”

“Mariah?” Echohawk said, frowning over at Mariah, yet still not seeing her. “Your name is Mariah? You have called yourself No-din.”

“That is my Chippewa name,” Mariah said, gulping hard when she saw an instant look of horror on Echohawk’s face.

“You have even been given a Chippewa name?” he gasped. His jaw tightened and he shook his head back and forth. “This I do not understand. Never shall I understand.”

“Echohawk, I wish you no harm,” Mariah pleaded. “I only wish to help right some of the wrongs done you. Please allow it.”