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When he advised Chief Silver Wing that he, Echohawk, had brought possible doom to Silver Wing’s people, he did not want to think of the emotions the chief would be feeling. To survive an attack, they must move elsewhere, or stand and fight a fight that was not theirs and risk losing a whole generation of Chippewa children.
Had it not been for his own troubles, he despaired, Chief Silver Wing’s people would continue to be safe—would continue to be content.
Echohawk rode into the village, his chin held high, yet his heart aching with an utter sadness and remorse for what lay ahead of him. After he helped uproot Chief Silver Wing’s village, and also his own people, and saw them to safety, Echohawk and several braves would disband and travel alone, to search for the real culprits.
* * *
Lightning, a strange phenomenon for the month of November, was flashing in the sky overhead, illuminating everything around Mariah for seconds at a time, making her discoveries worse, even eerie, at what was left of her father’s trading post—and what had been her childhood home.
Torn with how she should feel, Mariah stood beside the charred remains, recalling so many things, both happy and sad. Her happiest times had been when her mother had still been alive.
Her mother had been everything to her.
But since her mother’s death Mariah had found it a hard struggle to live in the company of a father whose heart had seemingly turned to stone.
Except for her memories of her mother, there was no sorrow at viewing what was left of the trading post.
“There are no signs of your father anywhere,” William Joseph said, stepping gingerly to Mariah’s side. “And there are no clear tracks leading anywhere. Whoever abducted your father was clever. They erased all tracks leading to and from the trading post.”
“Then you are certain that my father is not . . . is not among those ashes?” Mariah said, gesturing toward the smoking rubble.
“One of his men who survived the fire told of seeing your father being dragged toward a horse,” William Joseph said somberly.
Mariah turned quickly to him. “If there was a man alive to tell that, surely he saw who was to blame for everything else that happened here tonight,” she said, looking anxiously up into his dark eyes. “Or someone else. Surely there were others to ask.”
“They were apparently all slain while running from their bunkhouse,” William Joseph said, gesturing toward that burned-out structure. “Only one lived long enough to talk to those who discovered the massacre.”
“And? What else did he say?” Mariah asked, her voice rising in pitch. But she felt close to being able to know the truth about Echohawk.
Whether he was innocent or guilty.
“Before he had a chance to say who did it, he died,” William Joseph said, sighing heavily. “And so now we must return to Father and ask his advice. I’d say a search party must be formed. And soon.”
Disappointed that she had not been able to get a cl
ear answer about Echohawk, Mariah nodded weakly, then walked limply to her horse and swung herself into the saddle.
Disconsolately she rode beside William Joseph back in the direction of the fort. Although she was concerned over her father’s welfare, her thoughts kept wandering to Echohawk. Just prior to William Joseph’s appearance in the garden to tell her the disturbing news about her father, she had made promises to Echohawk—promises that now meant nothing, it seemed. Echohawk had fled from her like a man guilty of a fiendish crime, and she had immediately accused him within her heart, as though she had no faith in him whatsoever.
How can one base a future on such weaknesses as that? she wondered sadly to herself.
The fact that she could think Echohawk guilty of the vicious deed lay heavy on her heart.
Dispirited, she rode with the others, yet felt no better even when they reached the fort and were once again in the company of Colonel Snelling, reporting their findings. Soon they would depart again and search for not only her father but also those responsible for his abduction or death.
* * *
The rain was splashing hard against the study window as Colonel Snelling paced his study, his hands clasped behind him. William Joseph and Mariah stood quietly by, watching him. Just as he turned and faced them again, they were interrupted.
“What is it?” Josiah said in a snarl, gazing without affection at Tanner McCloud as he stepped into the room, soaked to the skin, sending off an aroma similar to wet dog’s fur. “I hope you have good reason for entering my study without first being announced.”
Tanner swallowed hard and shifted his feet nervously on the carpet as he came to a sudden stop beside Mariah. “I heard about Mariah’s father,” he said, glancing guardedly at her, then back at Josiah. “I think I may have some valuable information you should be interested in hearing.”
“It had better be valuable enough to warrant you being here in my office, when I can hardly stand to look at you, much less be in the same room as your stench,” Josiah said, his eyes filled with warning. He went to Tanner and leaned into his face. “When you had the gall to mix with my acquaintances at the ball tonight without a formal invitation, I had a good notion to shoot you on the spot. If not for my beloved wife’s prohibition on blood spilling in her home, I’d have done it. Now, say your piece and get the hell out of here.”
Tanner gasped and took a step back from Josiah. “I’ve heard rumors that an Injun wearing eyeglasses was seen leading a raiding party tonight close to Victor Temple’s trading post,” he said in a rush of words. “The ones who saw this were just passing through or I’d have brought them here to tell you what they saw, eye to eye.”
Mariah had stood by listening to Tanner’s tale, then blanched and felt suddenly dizzy when he was through. She reached for the back of a chair and steadied herself, finding it hard to think clearly, much less speak in Echohawk’s behalf.
