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Once higher grasses were reached, Echohawk placed Mariah to her feet. A brave came to them. He gave Echohawk a rifle, then placed a rifle in Mariah’s hand.
Echohawk smiled down at Mariah, gave her a light kiss, then nodded for her to follow him to where they soon found a faint footpath that led into the forest.
The majestic pines soared into the sky, creating a kind of hall for them to walk through as they made their way between the trunks. Silence reigned supreme as the war party moved in single file through the grove of trees, searching for signs of a camp.
They continued following the path for a time, then stopped sharply when through a break in the trees a short distance away they caught sight of two sentries asleep beneath a tree. Echohawk gave a signal to his braves to go on ahead and do what was necessary while he stayed behind with Mariah.
Mariah’s eyes were wide as she witnessed the silent approach of the braves, creeping as silently as the padded footsteps of the panther. They grabbed the men and had them gagged and tied to the tree without even a small outcry.
Echohawk nodded for her to follow again as he began moving through the forest, the path more distinct now.
Soon voices could be heard up ahead. Mariah’s eyebrows quirked when she realized that she was hearing a noisy, gleeful group of children at play.
And when she and Echohawk came close enough to see them, she watched as the children played with their dogs. She could tell that the dogs were more than likely beasts of burden, for their fur was hopelessly matted, and where there was no fur, there were signs of deep lacerations across their backs. And most limped as they tried to romp with the children.
Echohawk gripped Mariah by an arm and held her close to his side as he peered at the children through a cover of bushes, and then at the women who were bent upon their tasks close to several run-down log cabins that stood in a circle of the clearing. Some were carrying great loads of wood into the camp on their backs. Some were washing clothes in a wooden tub.
But it was not so much the labor of the women or the play of the children that caught Echohawk’s eye. It was that the women were a mixture—both white and Indian. The children were either half-breeds or white. This confirmed his belief that Yellow Eyes consorted with the Sioux. The proof was there for him to see.
“What of the children and women?” Mariah whispered, leaning closer to Echohawk.
He inhaled a deep breath, then set his jaw as he nodded toward the braves awaiting his commands.
Mariah watched as one by one the women and children were seized. Some of the braves took them to the boats to guard them until they could be taken to a place of safety once the confrontation with Tanner and his men was over.
Echohawk and his braves raised the war whoop and poured a shower of bullets and arrows into the cabins. The true fight began as men scurried from their cabins, some only half-dressed, surprise etched on their bearded faces.
But to Echohawk’s confusion, none of these men were Sioux!
Every last one was white-skinned!
The battle raged for only a short time, the ambush having been successful. All of the men were slain. Even Tanner McCloud lay on the ground with a mortal wound.
Echohawk and Mariah went to Tanner. Mariah glared down at him as Echohawk began grilling him.
“Yellow Eyes, where are the renegade Sioux who so often accompany you on your raids?” he asked, his eyes filled with fire. “Where is White Wolf?”
Mariah knelt beside Tanner. She did not pity him the wound in his abdomen, blood pouring from it, “Where is my father?” she demanded, then paled when she saw him clutch feverishly at his chest, emitting a loud scream of pain. If he died before she discovered where her father was, she might never find him! Her eyes swept around her. The cabins seemed deserted now. Her father was surely not there.
A thought came to her which made her feel ill. If her father was not here, then he was probably dead.
Reaching a hand to Tanner’s shirt collar, grasping it frantically, Mariah leaned closer to his face. “My father!” she cried. “Where is he? I know you are the one who burned his trading post. You are the one who abducted him. Where did you take him? Where?!”
Tanner’s breathing was shallow, yet he managed a sly smile as he gazed up at Echohawk, then glared at Mariah. “You are accusing the wrong man, Mariah,” he said, wheezing. “I’m not responsible for what happened to your father.”
Mariah’s lips parted in a gasp and her hand dropped away from Tanner. She paled when Tanner looked slowly over at Echohawk and raised a shaky finger and pointed it at him.
“He . . . did . . . it,” he whispered. “Echohawk did it. Dammit, Mariah, why don’t you believe me?”
Rage lit Echohawk’s eyes. He grabbed Tanner by the throat and yanked his head up from the ground. “You lie!” he hissed. “Even taking your last breath, you lie, white coward. Do you know that you cannot enter paradise with a lie on your lips?”
Tanner tried to laugh, but gurgled instead. “The Sioux? White Wolf?” he said, his voice only a thread now. “Not long ago they were defeated in a skirmish with other Sioux.” His eyesight was getting hazy, but his mind was still clear. He knew that White Wolf and his renegade companions were at Fort Snelling, mingling with the other Indians at the powwow. Tanner knew that once they heard of his demise, they would retaliate, to avenge their friend’s death. Tanner naturally wanted this to come as a total surprise to Echohawk.
“How can I believe that this is true when you have lied so easily about No-din’s father?” Echohawk said in a snarl. “Surely honor in death is not as important to the white man as it is to the Chippewa!”
“No-din?” Tanner said, coughing up blood. “Who is this No-din you speak of?”
Mariah leaned down into his face. “I am No-din,” she said, proud of her Chippewa name.
