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“Yes, please,” Mariah said, smiling bashfully at Abigail. “It is a most delicious refreshment.”
Not wanting to make a complete fool of herself, Mariah sipped the second glass for a moment, then set it aside. She wanted to get the preliminaries behind her. Rarely had she asked for anything from anyone. Most times she had been forced to just take what had been handed her, which, in truth, had been the bare essentials of everyday life.
“Now, tell me, Mariah, why are you here?” Abigail said, reaching over to pat Mariah’s arm. “I will do anything I can to help you.”
Apprehensive, not wanting to reveal any truths to Abigail that might jeopardize her father’s welfare, Mariah paused for a moment, then looked wide-eyed at her hostess. “You know how forceful and determined my father is,” she blurted out. “Mrs. Snelling, I . . .”
Abigail reached a hand to Mariah’s cheek, within her eyes a deep compassion. “Please call me Abigail,” she murmured. “Being called Mrs. Snelling makes me feel like a stodgy old maid.” She laughed softly. “And, my dear, you know that I am anything but an old maid. I have seven beautiful children.”
Mariah laughed nervously, yet felt wonderfully breezy inside to know that Abigail Snelling would do anything to make a troubled person more comfortable in her presence.
“That is very sweet of you,” Mariah said softly. “I would love to call you by your first name.”
Abigail sat back more comfortably in her chair. “Now, continue with your story,” she said, relaxing her hands on her lap. “I am a very good listener.” She leaned forward and smiled at Mariah. “And I have instructed my servants to keep the children out of the parlor. I feel you do not need their noise while confiding in me.”
Mariah smiled back at her, amazed at the woman’s consideration. She then sighed deeply and scooted back in the chair, feeling strangely at home. “I just could not stay with my father any longer,” she said, gazing into the fire, for an instant reflecting on the shared moments beside the fires in Echohawk’s wigwam.
“You made this decision after your father cut your hair?” Abigail said, wrenching Mariah’s thoughts back to the present.
Mariah looked quickly over at Abigail, troubled that she could get lost in thoughts of Echohawk so easily, when, in truth, she knew that she had to forget him.
“Yes, I left after father cut my hair,” Mariah said in a half-truth. She could never tell Abigail that what had really made her flee her father’s wrath was the attack on the innocent Chippewa. At that point she had lost all respect for her father.
“Where did you go?” Abigail asked, her gaze settling on the buckskin dress. She looked back into Mariah’s eyes again. “Just before your father left the fort, after discovering you weren’t here, he said something about going to check the Indian villages for you.” She paused, then added, “Mariah, have you been with a band of Chippewa? Is that where you got the dress?”
“Yes, I’ve been with the Chippewa,” Mariah said, lowering her eyes, troubled as to how much more she could reveal to Abigail. Not only was telling too much dangerous, it would also be painful to talk about Echohawk, Chief Silver Wing, and Nee-kah’s kindnesses to her.
At this very moment, back at their village, she was looked on as a traitor!
“How did you happen to be there?” Abigail persisted softly. “You . . . you weren’t forced, were you? The Chippewa in these parts are known for their civility.”
“And what is said about them is true,” Mariah said, tears burning at the corners of her eyes as, in her mind’s eye, she reenacted that fateful day when so many Chippewa had died.
She blinked nervously to erase the painful thoughts, then continued to explain.
“Upon my flight from my father, my horse threw me,” she said. “Nee-kah, the wife of Chief Silver Wing, found me. She took me to their village, where I was treated graciously.”
A sudden thought seized Mariah, making her heart skip a beat. Echohawk could come to Fort Snelling and inform Colonel Snelling of her role in the raid. Abigail could soon lose all belief in her!
Even by now Echohawk could have put two and two together and realized that it was her father who had led the raid. Even now he could be at her father’s trading post. Her father could even now be dead!
“Mariah?” Abigail said, reaching to take one of Mariah’s hands in hers. “Dear, you have suddenly grown so pale. Is there something more you wish to tell me? I am here to listen. Pour it all out to me. You will feel much better for it.”
“There is nothing more,” Mariah said softly. “I left the Chippewa village to come to you to see if you might assist me in some way, to help me decide what I must do with the rest of my life.”
She swallowed hard, knowing that she would have to live from day to day, praying that Echohawk would not hate her so much that he would come for her and demand that she be handed over to him to be taken back to his people and punished for being a traitor.
Her only hope was that Echohawk would search deeply within his heart and realize that she could never have done anything purposely against his people. Time was her ally, it seemed, for if Echohawk would weigh it all inside his heart, he would know that she was sincere in all of her thoughts and deeds.”
“Perhaps I could work here at Fort Snelling in some capacity,” Mariah suddenly stated. “I can ride a horse and handle firearms as well as any man . . .”
Abigail gasped with horror at Mariah’s suggestion. “My dear, I want to hear no more talk of you mingling with the men, behaving as one of them,” she scolded. “You cannot be serious in wanting to continue living the life your father forced upon you—a life that you have rightly fled from.”
She rose from her chair and took Mariah’s hands and drew her up before her. She gently embraced Mariah, then held her at arm’s length. “My dear, it would delight me to help you,” she murmured. “But in a much different way than you have sug
gested. You have suffered enough since your mother’s death. I demand that you stay with me and Josiah. It would delight us both to have you in our home.”
She reached to Mariah’s cheeks and smiled into her eyes. “I will take you to my wardrobe and let you choose the laciest dress that you can find,” she said softly. “Now, do you understand that you are to forget that foolishness about shooting firearms and riding horses? There are better things to do with one’s time!”
