Wild Rapture

“Mariah, it is now rightfully yours,” William Joseph said, moving toward the door. “And you deserve it. From what Mother and Father told me, you were hardly more than a slave to your father.” He smiled at her over his shoulder. “Take this as fair payment.”

Mariah stared at the pouch, then looked up at William Joseph. “Yes, I shall,” she said, smiling.

As William Joseph placed his hand on the door latch, she rushed to him and flung herself into his arms. “Thank you,” she murmured. “I shall miss you.”

“We shall never truly be apart,” William Joseph said, relishing having her in his arms, at least just this once. “You will always be in my thoughts.”

He gave her one last hug, then swung away from her and left, Mariah feeling strangely empty in his absence. But she understood why. She had only recently discovered that she had a brother, and she’d expected to develop a close relationship.

It tore at her heart, thinking of this loss.

Seeing Mariah’s sadness, Echohawk drew her into his embrace. He ran his fingers through her hair, comforting her. “I am sorry about your father,” he said softly. “That you did not see him is unfortunate. And I am sorry about your brother—that you did not feel free to tell him that you are blood kin.”

Mariah sniffled, fighting back tears. “I wish there was a way . . .” she whispered, clinging to Echohawk. “Being able to see my true father and telling him my discovery meant so much to me.”

Her eyes widened and she leapt from Echohawk’s embrace, the pouch of coins still heavy in her hand. “Echohawk, there is a way!” she said in a rush of words. “I am sure that I have enough money to take us to Saint Louis by riverboat! And there would surely be enough for our lodging once we arrive there. What a wonderful idea! We can go to Saint Louis and surprise my father with the news!”

Echohawk’s jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. “It is not a thing a Chippewa does—ride in a white man’s great wheeled vessel, the ‘walk in the water.’ It is a strange canoe, even larger than the voyageurs’ big transport canoes,” he said uneasily. “The Chippewa’s place is with his people. Not on a giant canoe among whites.”

“Echohawk, this is something new for me also,” Mariah pleaded. “Let us share this new experience together.”

When he did not answer her, she knew that she had no choice but to defy him, for she had made up her mind to go to Saint Louis. She would never be totally content until she came face-to-face with her true father.

“Echohawk,” she quickly added, “I must go to Saint Louis. Please understand. And if you do not go with me, I will be forced to travel alone.”

Echohawk’s eyes blazed with fire. “You would do this even if I forbid it?” he said, his voice drawn.

“‘Forbid’ is a strong word,” Mariah said, taking a step back from him. “My father forbade me so much. Am I now to expect such behavior from the man I love? I cannot live like that, Echohawk. My judgment—my decisions—must be considered important or I . . . I cannot live with you.”

Stunned by Mariah’s stubbornness, Echohawk stared at her for a moment, then went and jerked a blanket from the bed and placed in on the floor close to the fireplace. Stretching out on it, he ignored Mariah as she gaped at him in disbelief. It was not a time to speak further words. He had much to sort out within his heart.

Seeing that Echohawk was settled in for the night, his back to her, Mariah stifled a sob of agony, then went to the bed and threw herself across it. Silent tears flowed from her eyes. She had never thought that her need to see her father would come to this. Echohawk was actually making her choose between him and her father, a father she had only recently discovered.

Chapter 24

Laugh if my cheek too is misty and drips—

Wetness is tender—laugh on my lips.

—Eastman

The pit of her stomach feeling hollow, seeming always to lose more than she gained, Mariah wiped a fresh flow of tears from her cheeks, yet did not allow herself to cry out loud. She did not want Echohawk to know that he had hurt her so deeply.

Yet he had, and she was not sure if she could ever forgive him.

His mood—his anger—had stung her heart, her total being!

So caught up was she in her hurtful feelings that Mariah did not hear Echohawk’s approach to the bed. When he was suddenly there, stretched out behind her, his body pressing into hers from behind, her breath was momentarily stolen away.

Then she closed her eyes in ecstasy as he turned her around to face him, his mouth soon covering her lips in a tender, loving kiss. She was fighting her feelings, appalled that she could so quickly forgive him his anger. Even that he had made demands of her seemed to be dimming in her consciousness.

She loved him so much, so very, very much....

Echohawk drew his mouth from her lips. His hands framed her face gently. “No-din, I was wrong,” he said, drawing her eyes flutteringly open. “I should never have made demands on you. While with me, my woman, I want you to feel free to make your own decisions. I understand how it was for you while living with the man you thought was your father. I never again want to be compared to that tyrant. If you have the need to seek out your true father, I will not object. It is not my right to. Although you have promised yourself to me, that does not mean that you have handed over to me your freedom. Perhaps that is so between many men and women. But with us it will not be so. I love you too much to stifle you.”

“But moments ago you . . . you behaved so differently,” Mariah murmured, unable to completely relax with Echohawk’s change in moods. She wanted to, oh, how she wanted to! “Echohawk, you made demands on me. Are you saying that you will no longer do this? Ever? Once I speak wedding vows with you, it is to be ah-pah-nay, forever. I want to live with you with a peaceful heart.”

“My woman,” Echohawk said, brushing a soft kiss across her lips. “Did you not listen well to what I said? I have seen the wrong in my demands. Never will I do this again. While with me, you will have the freedoms you desire, to make you feel a complete woman. No-din, your pride is as important to me as my own. Never will I give you cause to ride with lowered, humble eyes. While riding at my side on your steed, always you will have a lifted chin and proud, bright eyes!”