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Without taking his eyes off Mariah, Chief Silver Wing spoke to Nee-kah. “Go. Get one of your dresses and a pair of moccasins,” he said softly. “Bring them here. Wee-weeb, quickly, my wife. Quickly. This woman has suffered enough humiliations because of an evil father.”
Nee-kah rushed away. Mariah breathed much more easily. Then she stiffened again when he resumed questioning her.
“Am I wrong to believe you?” he said, thrusting her clothes back into her arms for her to hide behind. “Or is that innocence I see in your eyes enough, to know that what you say is true?”
“I am telling the truth,” Mariah said, fearing that, as astute as he was, he would see beyond that which she had already said, and would demand to know more.
“Why did you not reveal this to us sooner?” Chief Silver Wing asked calmly. “And how did you know the skills of a rifle so well that you killed the water moccasin with one gunfire?”
“Not only did my father force me to dress as a boy, he also forced me to behave like one,” Mariah said, glad to see Nee-kah there again, hoping that she would somehow draw the conversation away from the direction it was taking. “I was taught well the art of firearms. Also, the art of speaking some of your Chippewa language. My father told me that all of this was for my survival.”
“In part, he was right,” Chief Silver Wing said, taking the buckskin dress and moccasins as Nee-kah handed them to him. He leaned toward Mariah. “Take these. Wear them. You are now a woman. And you are a pretty woman, except for your hair. It looks like it is just growing out from a scalping.”
“My father even forced this disgrace of cutting my hair upon me,” she said, taking the garments, relishing their softness against her flesh.
“This father you speak of with anger,” Chief Silver Wing said, kneading his chin thoughtfully. “Would I know him? Is he among those who trade often at Fort Snelling?”
A sudden fear gripped Mariah’s insides. “My father has been to Fort Snelling,” she murmured. “But not often. It has been a while now since he has been there. Others go for our supplies.”
“Then I would not know him,” Chief Silver Wing said, shrugging. His eyebrows forked. “You have yet to tell us your name.”
“Mariah,” Mariah said, yet not offering her last name. There was a chance that Echohawk had recognized her father and had known his name. Never could she breathe the name “Temple” across her lips while in the presence of the Chippewa.
“Mariah,” Chief Silver Wing said, his eyes smiling down at her. “That name—it has to do with the wind, does it not?”
“Yes, Mariah is the wind,” she said, smiling back at him, relieved that he did not ask her last name.
“No-din,” Nee-kah offered softly as she stepped to Mariah’s side. “No-din means ‘wind’ in the Chippewa language. Would you mind if we called you No-din?”
“Please do,” Mariah said, sighing. “That is so lovely.”
“After you eat and rest, you will be accompanied by many braves safely to Fort Snelling,” Chief Silver Wing said, placing a hand to her bare shoulder. “You will always be remembered by my people. You saved two of our most prized possessions. Our youth is our future.”
Mariah was not hearing everything that he was saying. What had stuck in her mind was that she would soon be escorted to Fort Snelling. Earlier, that was what she would have wanted. But now that she knew that Echohawk was in this village recovering from his head wound, she did not want to leave.
Somehow she wanted to be able to see him. If she could, she even wanted to find a way to make everything up to him.
“Does it matter how long I stay in your village?” Mariah asked guardedly, not wanting to arouse their suspicions about her reason for asking.
Echohawk!
“But you were trying to escape our village only a short while ago,” Chief Silver Wing said, his eyes narrowing. “And you now wish to stay? Be a part of us?”
“I only now realize how weak I am from my recent adventures,” Mariah quickly explained, the white lie slipping easily across her lips. “It could take me days to get my strength back. Would you mind if I stayed until . . . until . . . I have?”
She paused, then smiled up at him. “And until only a short while ago I wasn’t welcomed in your village as a friend,” she murmured. “You considered me an . . . enemy. I saw no choice but to try to escape.”
Chief Silver Wing’s eyes lit up and he nodded. “Ay-uh, yes, that is so,” he said. Then he touched Mariah’s mud-caked cheek. “Nee-gee, friend, it is time for my wife to make you pretty.”
With that, he turned and left, leaving Mariah and Nee-kah alone, quiet in their exchanged admiring glances.
And then Nee-kah giggled and rushed to Mariah, taking the buckskin dress and her other clothes from her arms. “First you must be bathed,” she said, tossing the clothes aside. “And then your hair will be washed and combed, your cheeks will be reddened with the juice of bloodroot, and then you will eat heartily! Your weakness will soon be gone. You will be shown everything of my village. My people see you as someone very special.” She stifled another giggle behind her hand. “They are going to be very surprised to see your transformation from a mere boy to a beautiful lady.”
“You do
n’t know how anxious I am myself to be able to wear a dress,” Mariah said, gazing down at the buckskin garment, beautifully decorated with colorful beads.
She gazed also at the moccasins. They were puckered around the front, Chippewa-style, intricately designed with beads and dyed porcupine quills.
