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Her chin lifted, Flame rode on past them, hurried her horse into the stables. Then, unladylike, she climbed the trellis that led to her balcony, and to the privacy of her room.
When she was finally inside her room, she smiled at the thrill of her discoveries this morning.
“I found him!” she whispered, shivering with ecstasy at the mere thought of having been that close to White Fire again, and especially for now knowing where he lived.
She had to wonder how he would feel if he awakened and found her waiting for him some morning, as he had found the Indians this morning.
“No,” she whispered, whisking off her riding hat, “I can’t be that shameful!”
Not yet, anyhow, she thought, smiling mischievously at the very idea of being brazen enough to do it.
Chapter 11
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies,
And all that’s best of dark and bright,
Meets in her aspect and her eyes.
—Lord Byron
Taking the first necessary step to get his life back in order again, to get his son back, White Fire stood at Colonel Russell’s desk.
Colonel Russell gazed up at him. “You say that you need employment,” he said dryly, flicking ashes from his cigar into an ashtray.
“Yes, and if possible, I would like to once again be involved in the plans for more road construction in this area,” White Fire said. “During the three years I was gone, the population has almost doubled. More than ever roads are needed to help make the settlers’ travels more convenient and safe. I believe much more careful planning must be made to see that the roads are not as isolated as before. More trees should be removed. Those who travel the roads should not be made to feel so closed in by the forest on each side of them. Who could not worry about outlaws or Indians if the road is crowded on both sides by dense brush and trees?”
Colonel Russell nodded toward a chair before his desk. “Sit down,” he said coldly, resting his cigar in the ashtray.
After White Fire sat down, Colonel Russell leaned toward him. He rested his elbows on his oak desk and placed his fingertips together. “I understand your concern about the roads since you were abducted while involved in building them,” he said tightly. “And I am certain that you would have ideas that would be beneficial.”
“Most times my duties kept me at the fort,” White Fire said, glancing over his shoulder. The office that had been his, when he worked as road commissioner for the fort, was just down the corridor. He didn’t expect to be appointed commissioner over who was now working in that capacity. But he would certainly enjoy working with him. “It was only by chance that I was far from the fort the day I was abducted,” he continued, his eyes now locked with the colonel’s. “I had gone to oversee things after I had been told of a problem. The men under my guidance were having troubles with their measurements. I went there, alone, to remeasure things. My solitude made it easy for me to be abducted. Otherwise, I would have been at the fort, safely at my desk, drawing plans.”
Frowning at White Fire, suddenly in deep thought, Colonel Russell leaned back in his chair. “I see,” he finally said, nervously drumming his fingers on his desk. ‘Well, I hope I don’t disappoint you when I tell you that I have something else in mind for you.”
White Fire’s eyebrows forked.
‘What I have in mind for you would serve me better,” Colonel Russell said, slowly nodding. “White Fire, I am in dire need of an interpreter, and since you are, in part, Indian yourself, a ’breed, and someone who has lived not only with the Chippewa, but also with the Sioux, you are more trained in the art of languages than anyone else I know. I would like to offer you the job of interpreter for the fort. Would you be interested?”
His spine having stiffened at the colonel’s reference to him being a ’breed, always having found that word a way to brand someone who was born with dual bloods in his veins, White Fire waited for a moment or two before responding to the colonel’s offer.
In truth, had the colonel not called him a ’breed, White Fire would have jumped at the chance to be the fort interpreter. That was something he would thoroughly enjoy. Being an interpreter would be a way to mingle with the Chippewa more often than had he taken on other employment. He did enjoy the company of Chief Gray Feather and his people. While with them that year at the village, something awakened inside him that he could not explain. He had felt closer to nature, to life in general, while with them. It was as though somewhere in time he had been a part of the Chippewa culture.
Yes, Chief Gray Feather would enjoy his visits, the time of camaraderie that would be created by White Fire being an interpreter.
“Yes, I would appreciate the employment as the fort interpreter,” he suddenly blurted out. “When shall I start?”
His eyes danced, truly looking forward to the job of interpreter. It would also give him the opportunity to help keep peace between the different bands of Indians and the soldiers and their families stationed at the fort. He would even enjoy going from village to village, whenever required to, to sit in council.
“White Fire, whenever the need arises, when you are needed to interpret, I shall send word to your cabin,” Colonel Russell said, his eyes gleaming. “There is no need for you to set up residency here at the fort.”
White Fire stiffened, thinking now that the colonel had, in a sense, just duped him. By assigning him to a job that would only occasionally bring him to the fort, the colonel would be free of White Fire more often than not.
Then he smiled to himself at something that would give him much pleasure, and a way to put the bigoted colonel in his place. While sitting in council, being the only one who could interpret the different languages to this bigoted colonel, it would be a way to make the man feel inadequate and for everyone else to see his inadequacies. It could make the colonel look less of a leader in the eyes of all the Indians. This, for a man who thought he was God’s gift to mankind, could disgrace him more than disgrace itself.
White Fire rose from the chair, forcing himself to reach out a hand to seal the deal. Then he cringed when the colonel placed his sweaty palm against his as he shook it.
