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As his eyes widened, she did just that. She tore the letter in half, and then continued to rip it into shreds.
“Now what are you going to tell my father when you tell him that you didn’t stop me from tearing up this important letter?” Flame said, laughing mockingly.
He didn’t know that she knew about the duplicate letter. She had seen her father palm it into his hand, looking slyly over his shoulder to make sure Flame didn’t see.
She had turned her eyes away quickly enough so that he had not caught her witnessing his action. She had known the true purpose of a second letter. He had expected her to tear up the
one he gave to her.
She now waited anxiously for Lieutenant Green to pull an envelope from his inside jacket pocket, to show her that he had a backup for the one she tore up.
Lieutenant Green laughed throatily as he looked away from her long enough to slip one of his hands inside his jacket pocket for the letter.
The moment he turned his eyes away from her, Flame stepped quickly around him and ran from the cabin. She closed the door behind her, and then ran over to the boat’s railing.
She didn’t take the time to stare down at the swirling, muddy water of the Mississippi River, fearing she might have second thoughts about the dangers of the undercurrents.
But she did take the time to look around her, to see if there was anyone who could quickly tell the soldiers how she had escaped. She smiled when she saw no one. Not even a crew member. Everyone was still leisurely enjoying morning breakfast and coffee in the dining room.
With a racing pulse, Flame climbed over the railing and jumped, feet first, into the water.
With the wide, powerful strokes that she had learned swimming in the Mississippi River back at St. Louis, she swam toward the shore. She prayed that the soldiers wouldn’t think to look in the river for her escape, but would instead start searching the hidden passageways of the boat, where someone could hide for the duration of the voyage.
She could hear the steady swishing sound of the large paddlewheel churning the water as it took the boat downriver.
Flame then smiled when she saw the riverbank only a short distance away. She thanked her lucky stars that the undercurrent had not been all that strong. Only once or twice had she felt it sucking at her legs and feet, and then she would swim free of the threat.
Panting, water dripping from her hair, her skirt and blouse clinging to her like a second skin, Flame finally reached the shore. Her feet slipped and slid on the muddy bottom as she made her way toward the rocky embankment.
Once there, she stopped and turned and stared at the riverboat as it floated farther and farther away from her.
Smiling, she pulled her fingers through her hair and drew it back from her face, to hang in long, wet ringlets across her shoulders and down her back.
“’Bye, ’bye,” she whispered to the soldiers, giggling. “Now what are you going to tell my papa?”
Not wanting to waste any more time gloating over her escape, Flame rushed up the embankment and stepped into knee-high grass.
Trying to get her bearings, to ascertain how far she was from civilization, she stopped and looked into the distance, then looked from side to side.
Frowning, she saw that she had traveled too far downriver to go to Fort Parker to ask for Colonel Edwards’s help in getting White Fire set free.
But she knew that she was within walking distance of Chief Gray Feather’s village. It was not that far through the thick trees. The river would be visible to her again where it made a wide turn before it straightened out and ran on past Fort Snelling.
“Yes, Gray Feather is my only chance to get White Fire free,” she murmured, hoping that her father would not be too hasty in his desire to see to White Fire’s end.
Flame gazed heavenward. “Lord, please let me be in time,” she prayed. “Oh, please help me find someone to help me get White Fire free. Please let it be Chief Gray Feather.”
She lifted her skirt and ran into the forest. Yet something that White Fire had warned her about came to her so suddenly, she stopped and wondered if she was right to go to the Chippewa chief after all. White Fire had warned her that it was not wise to get the Indians involved in anything that might draw them into a war with the soldiers at Fort Snelling.
If Gray Feather helped set him free, would not that give Flame’s father all the reason he needed to set his plans in motions to start a war with the Chippewa, and then the Sioux, until all of the Indians in the Minnesota Territory were annihilated?
Then she thought of Colonel Edwards’s role in this. If Colonel Edwards had taken what White Fire had told him seriously enough, surely Colonel Edwards would soon move against her father and stop any warring before it got started.
“He’s got to have believed White Fire,” she whispered, a shiver racing up and down her spine as her worries for her beloved mounted.
Desperate, Flame broke into a mad run through the forest. She stopped only long enough to get her breath when her side began to ache from her incessant push to get to the Indian village.
“I’ll never make it in time at this rate,” she said, a sob lodging in her throat. But she was not going to give up that easily. She would reach the Indian village. She would get the chief’s help.
