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At the tree’s peak had floated a delicate angel....
Tears burned at the corners of Mariah’s eyes, her vision of her mother clouded with the truths she now knew about her. She glanced over at Echohawk, knowing now that her mother had been immoral not only once, but many times. And Mariah was the result of one such affair!
Deep within her heart, Mariah knew that she could never forgive her mother for these infidelities.
This, again, reminded her of her mission today. Her true father! She did not want to delay seeing him much longer. She must hurry and buy herself a beautiful dress and bonnet. She then must find a hotel that would accept her and Echohawk as guests in the same room.
Mariah smiled up at Echohawk as they stopped in front of a shop that displayed velveteen dresses and matching bonnets. “Do you understand my need to dress differently today?” she asked softly. “I so want to look as pretty as I can for my father. And, Echohawk, I have wanted a velveteen dress and bonnet for so long! Just this once, darling. Then I shall never again wear anything but buckskin.”
She paused, then added, “And I want to buy a gift for Nee-kah . . . something that she will treasure.”
Echohawk placed a gentle hand to her cheek. “Today is your day,” he said softly. “You do what you must.”
Mariah hugged him, then grabbed his hand and led him into the shop with her.
When the woman in charge caught sight of Echohawk, she inhaled a quick startled breath and paled. She covered the diamond necklace that lay against the velvet of her dress, her thin lips pursing angrily as she glared at Mariah.
“I wish to see your most lovely velveteen dress,” Mariah said, ignoring the frustrated sales clerk, whose beady eyes annoyed more than angered her. “The color I prefer is pale green.”
“There are no dresses here for you,” the woman said, her narrow face pinched into a deep frown. “Now, be on your way.”
Echohawk took a bold step toward the woman. He towered over her and his eyes narrowed. “My wife sees many dresses,” he said, his voice drawn. “One of them will be hers.” He nodded to Mariah. “Find the one you wish to buy. Choose a bonnet. I have no doubt the lady here will take your gold in payment.”
The lady took a step back from Echohawk, fear in the depths of her eyes. “Yes, my dear,” she said thinly. “I will be. . . be happy to help you choose, if you wish.”
“No, that’s not necessary,” Mariah said, hurriedly finding her size, the correct color, and then the bonnet that she felt was the loveliest of the many, with lace in abundance on it. She chose her special gift for Nee-kah, Echohawk’s warm smile showing his approval, then quickly paid the clerk and waited for her purchases to be wrapped. She was glad to leave the shop, having hated putting Echohawk in such an awkward position.
Prejudices, it seemed, ran rampant everywhere, even in this frontier town of Saint Louis. She was saddened that it was hard for anyone to believe that there was such a thing as a peaceful Indian.
She dreaded the next chore, feared entering the hotel with Echohawk, and what the desk clerk’s attitude might be when she paid for only one room—and only one bed.
But of course the clerk would not know that they were not married, so that did not concern her as much as what his attitude might be over an Indian staying in his hotel.
Again there were difficulties to be faced—and conquered!
Under any other circumstances Mariah would have been thrilled at the prospect of staying a full night in a fancy hotel room. Many times she had passed her lonely nights reading books that her father had acquired for her at various trading posts. She had read of the hotels where plush carpets covered the hardwood floors and satin draperies hung at the windows. She could not even conjure up thoughts of how soft the beds must be in such elegant rooms.
She silently said a prayer of thanks to Josiah Snelling for having remembered owing her father a gambling debt. She was taking much delight in spending the money!
The shadow of a four-story hotel fell across Mariah and Echohawk as they stepped up to the door. She looked at Echohawk, his arms filled with her purchases, his rifle resting in the crook of his left arm.
Then she walked on into the hotel, her chin held proudly high. Without hesitation, ignoring the murmurs and glances as people broke away on both sides, making room for her and Echohawk, Mariah went to the desk clerk and shook many coins from her buckskin pouch.
“I would like whatever room my money can pay for,” she said, looking square into the desk clerk’s nervous eyes.
His eyes shifting to Echohawk, the clerk reached for a key behind him and grabbed one without seeing even which one he had chosen, then slapped it down on the desk. “And how will you be signing the register?” he asked, running a thin finger around the stiff white collar of his shirt.
“Mariah Temple,” Mariah said matter-of-factly. She took up the pen and scratched her name on the register, then grabbed up the key and held it out for Echohawk to see.
“And how about . . . about the Indian?” the clerk asked, now running his fingers nervously through his thinning gray hair.
“He is to share my room, of course,” Mariah said over her shoulder, prancing toward the steep staircase.
She again ignored those curious eyes in the lobby as Echohawk walked beside her to the stairs. But when he stopped and gazed slowly around, at the grandeur of the lobby, and then up the staircase, his eyes filled with wonder, Mariah understood.
“It’s as new and as awesome to me,” Mariah said, leaning close to Echohawk so that only he heard her. “I’ve never seen anything as grand. Nor have I ever been on the fourth floor of a building. My, but we shall see perhaps clean down the river to Jefferson Barracks!”
They went up the stairs, stopping at each landing take a look from the window at the end of the corridor, then proceeded until they reached the fourth floor and found their room. When they stepped inside, Mariah’s heart leapt with delight. It was as she had always dreamed a hotel room would be—grand and spacious.
