Wild Rapture

Captain Johns placed an arm around Echohawk’s shoulder. “It is a wise man who refuses to put alcohol into his system,” he said, nodding away one for himself when it was offered. “For a spell I depended on alcohol too much to get me through the day. But after a tragedy aboard my riverboat, for which I was responsible, I have never touched another drop of whiskey, nor any sort of alcohol. Normally my crew doesn’t drink while on the job either. But this is New Year’s Eve. I did not think a glass or two of wine could do them harm.”

“What sort of tragedy?” Mariah asked, setting her half-empty glass aside on a table.

“It didn’t occur on this boat,” Captain Johns said, stepping away from Echohawk, taking a long stare from the small window. “It was another one, in fact the first riverboat I ever commanded.” He turned slowly and looked at Mariah and Echohawk. “It was a beautiful boat, but it burned quickly, and along with it several . . . several passengers.”

Mariah paled and placed a hand at her throat. “How horrible,” she gasped.

Captain Johns looked down at his cigar, and just as quickly mashed it out in an ashtray, a sudden involuntary shiver visibly gripping him. “It was a mixture of whiskey and cigars that did it,” he said, his voice strained. “I drank too much and fell asleep with the cigar in my hand. The fire and smoke awakened me, but I was too drunk to save anyone but myself.”

He looked admiringly at his crew. “Most of these men you see here today were part of the crew on that fateful journey. They are responsible for saving those that were saved. If not for them . . .”

He shook his head, swallowed hard, then looked again at Mariah and Echohawk with wavering eyes. “It took many years of building up my courage to invest in another riverboat,” he said thickly. “But when I finally did, most of my crew came back to me. And here we are today, one big happy family.”

“It is good that you have resumed life again as you knew it before your tragedy,” Echohawk said, placing a gentle hand on Captain Johns’s shoulder. “You are a man to be admired. Not every man would have the courage that you have shown.” His eyes darkened with remembrances of his own recent tragedies. He looked at Mariah. She accounted for so much of his own regained confidence. If not for her . . .

A loud commotion surfacing from the adjoining cabin made a startled silence grip the room.

“It seems as though someone’s New Year’s celebration has gotten out of hand,” Captain Johns said, rushing from the cabin, his crew following him.

Echohawk and Mariah were left alone, but for only a moment. Soon Blackie slunk into the room, a drawn pistol in his right hand, a sinister smile on his lips. “I’m pretty good at sneakin’ on a boat and causin’ distractions, wouldn’t you say?” he said, smirking. “I chided one of the suckers into accusin’ one of the gamblers of cheatin’. In no time flat a fistfight broke out, and I slipped past them without no one noticin’. I hid in the shadows until after the captain and his men left you alone. Now, Injun, I’m at the advantage, wouldn’t you say?”

Mariah’s pulse raced. She had forgotten about Blackie when he hadn’t made any attempts to bother Echohawk at the hotel. Now she understood why. His plans were for later, while in the middle of the river, away from lawmen.

Fearing for Echohawk, she gave him a quick glance. With a firearm aimed at him, he was powerless.

Then she looked toward the window. The storm had worsened, causing the waves to thrash wildly at the boat’s hull. She had to grab for a chair for support when the boat lurched sideways, and at the same time she saw that the advantage was now Echohawk’s, for Blackie had lost his balance, his feet sliding from beneath him as the boat quickly righted itself again.

In a blur, it seemed to Mariah, Echohawk was on Blackie, knocking his firearm from his hand and wrestling him to the floor, straddling him. Mariah scrambled to grab the pistol, then stood back and watched wide-eyed as Echohawk suddenly jerked Blackie to his feet and yanked his arm behind him, forcing him to the door.

“Open the door, No-din,” Echohawk said, looking at Mariah over his shoulder. “There is only one solution I can think of to rid ourselves of this man, without killing him.”

Mariah rushed to the door and opened it. “What are you planning to do?” she said, following Echohawk as he forced Blackie ahead of him.

The wind was wild and cold, the snow stinging her cheeks as Mariah followed the two men to the rail. Still clutching the pistol, she sucked in a shallow breath when she realized what Echohawk’s intentions were for the gambler. She cringed when Blackie began shouting for help as he looked over the side of the boat into the swirling muddy water.

“You can’t do this to me!” Blackie cried, struggling to get free as Echohawk began lifting him over the rail. “No! Don’t! I’ll freeze to death!”

Echohawk looked at Mariah. “Aim the firearm at the gambler!” he shouted, then looked with an amused smile down at Blackie. “If you prefer a bullet to the water, she can very easily pull the trigger.” He paused, laughing beneath his breath when he saw the wild pleading in the gambler’s eyes. “What is it to be, white man? A bullet? Or the muddy, cold Mississippi?”

“Neither!” Blackie cried. “I beg of you. Let me go. I won’t bother you again. Ever!”

Echohawk held him even lower over the rail for a while longer, then brought him back to the deck and let him go, the suddenness of his release causing Blackie to tumble to the floor, cowering. “I think the boat’s captain can think of a place to put you until we reach Fort Snelling,” Echohawk said, wiping his hands on his buckskin breeches, as though to remove the stench of the gambler from his flesh. “There you will be seen to by the white pony soldiers. They will not like to hear that you threatened Chief Echohawk and his woman’s life—not once, but twice. They are friends of No-din and the Chippewa. They will see to your punishment. I believe you would prefer their choice of punishment over that of the Chippewa!”

“Yes, yes, I would,” Blackie said, nodding anxiously as he scooted back from Echohawk on the deck.

A loud round of applause broke out. Mariah looked quickly around, having been so absorbed in Echohawk’s performance that she had not seen Captain Johns and his crew arrive, also to observe.

“Well done!” Johns said, coming to lock an arm around Echohawk’s shoulders.

He gave his crew a stern look. “Take that scoundrel Blackie below!” he ordered. “Secure him well!”

Then he turned back to Echohawk. “Now, if it had been up to me, I’d have tossed the sonofabitch overboard. I’d have loved seeing him choke on the muddy river water,” he said, laughing heartily. “But since you are an honorable man, of course you have spared him the humiliation.”

“This time, ay-uh,” Echohawk grumbled, taking the pistol from Mariah’s hand, quickly ushering her away, toward their cabin. “But next time? Gah-ween, no. My patience is running thin for this man whose heart is bad toward me and my woman.”

“I must see to my duties,” Captain Johns said, since they were nearing land, the fort’s walls now in sight. His brow knit into a worried frown. “I hope the blizzard doesn’t impede our landing.”

Mariah looked over her shoulder at the snow tumbling from the sky in a sheet of white, then was glad to reach the warmth of her cabin. Once inside, she