Wild Embrace

* * *

The firewagon made its arrival. But it was too late. And even though Morris suspected that Indians had set the fire, he didn’t tell anyone. He had his own plans of revenge. He had found the destroyed nets in the river and he knew who was responsible.

He rode away without saying anything about it to Earl.

* * *

Downtrodden, with Frannie trailing behind him, her face sad and covered with ashes, Earl went to his ship, the only thing that he had left in the world. He had lost his daughter, his home, and business. He had lost his wife a second time, it seemed, for she had not made any more overtures toward him. And, except for faithful Frannie, he had dismissed his other servants.

He leaned against the ship’s rail, staring up at the smoky remains of his house, and at what remained of his fishery. He had no reason to live now. His thoughts strayed to the small derringer that he kept hidden beneath his bunk in the master cabin.

That could end it for him, quickly.

Fearing his mood, Frannie hurried behind Earl as he entered his cabin. He was too quiet—his eyes seemed like a man’s who no longer had hope. She didn’t know what he might do in this state of mind, and hoped that she could stop it.

She almost ran into him when he stopped abruptly.

Earl was shocked by who he found standing in the shadows, a lantern giving off only a faint light to see by.

“Marilyn?” he gasped. “What are you doing here?”

Frannie said nothing, only stood by in surprised silence. She had never forgiven Marilyn for leaving Elizabeth, but now she hoped that Marilyn could be her master’s salvation tonight—a night when she had seen him lose everything. The only other time, when they had met recently, Frannie had divined something in Marilyn’s eyes and voice that proved that she still loved Earl.

“I saw the fire in the sky and since it seemed to be coming from here, I couldn’t help but come to see for sure,” Marilyn said, moving closer to Earl. She was lovely tonight in a flame-red velveteen dress with black lace at its high throat, and at the end of the long sleeves.

Her hair was hanging long and free down her back, seemingly an extension of the dress, with its brilliant red coloring.

“When I saw the house on fire, I realized just how much I still wanted you—how much I still love you,” Marilyn continued softly. “Earl, if you can find a way to forgive me for what I have done since having left you, I promise that I will start all over again with you. The life that I have been leading is not at all what I want. I . . . want to be with you. Under any circumstances, I want to be with you.”

“But I have nothing now,” Earl said, his voice breaking. “Nothing at all to offer you. All of my money, except for what I can get from the sale of this ship, was tied up in the fishery. And it is gone. I’m broke, Marilyn. Virtually broke. I have nothing left to offer. Nothing.”

“You have yourself,” Marilyn said, placing a gentle hand to his ash-begrimed face. “Darling, I will discharge all of my girls. The house can be a real home, where you and I can live as man and wife and grow old together.”

Feeling as if God had seen his remorse and, knowing that he was contemplating suicide, He had sent Marilyn to him for his salvation, Earl tearfully drew her into his arms.

Their tears mingled, they were so glad to have found each other again.

Frannie turned her own eyes away, hope now rising inside her for her own future. Without Master Easton, she had no future. She sure enough wasn’t prepared to go and live with Elizabeth and her Indians. She feared Indians more than she feared living alone.

* * *

Daybreak came with a glorious sunrise, and also

with the thundering of many hooves as the Suquamish braves’ horses fell into stride on both sides of Strong Heart’s and Proud Beaver’s. They had obviously seen Strong Heart arrive to observe the fire, and had hidden in the forest, waiting for him to turn back toward the village, before joining him.

Strong Heart glared from man to man, silently condemning them for having gone behind their chief’s back to do as they pleased, even though it was for the best of reasons.

But he was glad that they were blameless for the fire. Now there was only one man to blame, and no one would ever think he was the arsonist.

That made it easier to forgive the braves, and ride with them on toward their village.

“I’m so tired,” Elizabeth said, laying her cheek on Strong Heart’s back. “Strong Heart, I know that I said that I could withstand this long ride, but now I’m not sure if I can. Another half day on the horse will be too much for me. Please let’s stop, Strong Heart. Please let me rest awhile.”

Realizing that if Elizabeth complained, she was actually deadly tired, and he could not see himself forcing anything on her. He glanced up at his grandfather who rode proud and sure in his saddle, and then over at all of his braves. If they all stopped, the chances were that someone might come along and put two and two together, thinking they were all responsible for the fire.

But if only he and Elizabeth stopped, it would look less conspicuous; it would look innocent enough.

He raised a fist in the air and shouted to the braves to stop. And after explaining that the braves should go on, and accompany Proud Beaver back to their village, Elizabeth and Strong Heart were alone. A campfire was soon going by a meandering stream, and Elizabeth slept in Strong Heart’s arms.