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She rushed into the room and jumped onto the bed, sinking deeply into the feather mattress. Her eyes took in the satin draperies . . . the plush cream-colored carpet . . . the heavy oak furniture.
Then she went to the window and grew solemn, anxious. From this vantage point she could see Jefferson Barracks on the edge of the river in the distance. It was not as grand as Fort Snelling, but that did not matter. It housed her father!
Echohawk laid the packages aside, and also his rifle. He walked lithely across the soft carpet, comparing it to thick beds of moss in the forest. Very gingerly he bent low over the bed and pressed his fingers into the mattress, jumping back, startled, when it gave way to his touch.
And then he crept over to stand beside Mariah, his heart thundering wildly when he took a look from the window and saw how high he was off the ground, and how the river looked like a large snake winding along the ground not far from the hotel.
Mariah leaned into his embrace. “Isn’t it beautiful?” she marveled; then her smile waned when she looked into his eyes. His expression had taken on a wistful, somber quality that did not match her giddy joy.
He peered into the distance, at the forest that stretched out far onto the horizon on the opposite side of the river. He could see many tepees, and wondered which Indians made residence so close to this frontier town of Saint Louis. It would be good to smoke with them, yet this was not the time for powwows between tw
o factions of Indians. The powwow today was to be between Mariah and her father.
He drew her around and framed her face between his hands. “Let us wait no longer to go to your father,” he said earnestly. “Your heart is anxious. I can see it in the pulsebeat at the hollow of your throat.”
“Ay-uh, I am very anxious,” Mariah murmured, her face beaming with anticipation.
Echohawk lowered his mouth to her lips and kissed her gently, then went and stared curiously at an upholstered chair. He eased himself into it, and watched comfortably as his woman changed clothes and became transformed into a vision of loveliness.
* * *
Mariah and Echohawk arrived by carriage at Jefferson Barracks. Once inside the massive stone walls, Mariah saw a neat row of buildings. She noticed that Jefferson Barracks was a hubbub of activity, soldiers and civilians coming and going, mingling in the courtyard on foot, and on the roads, on horseback and in carriages.
Mariah’s gaze stopped at the stone headquarters building as the carriage stopped before it. Soldiers soon appeared at the carriage, one on each side.
As the door was opened beside her, Mariah quickly explained why she and Echohawk were there, and the hesitation of the soldiers seemed to be because Echohawk was with her.
Mariah and Echohawk were not invited from the carriage. One of the soldiers went inside the building, and soon a stout man dressed neatly in a blue uniform, with brass buttons picking up the shine of the sun, came to Mariah and reached a hand out to her, helping her from the carriage.
“Young lady, what is this about you having come to see Colonel Snelling?” the soldier asked, casting troubled glances at Echohawk as he kept his seat in the shadows of the carriage.
“I have made a long journey to see the colonel,” Mariah said, her voice edged with irritation. “He is the commandant here. Please take me and my companion to him.”
Again the stout man gave Echohawk a questioning stare, then focused his attention on Mariah again. “My dear, your travels were in vain,” he said blandly. “Colonel Snelling is no longer here.” He cleared his throat nervously and kneaded his chin as one of his thick gray eyebrows arched.
Then he spoke further without hesitation. “You see, Colonel Snelling has been ordered to Washington,” he said, clasping his hands together behind him. “He is being charged with mishandling government funds. The gossip is that Colonel Snelling has been plagued with a peculiar ailment for many years and has become addicted to opium, the standard treatment for the disease. The treatment is expensive. Snelling used some of the government’s money to purchase it.”
Having admired Colonel Snelling for as far back as she could remember, Mariah was stunned speechless by the news. Her stomach suddenly felt hollow. She had now been disillusioned by two fathers!
Without saying another word to the stout man, who was perhaps her father’s replacement at Jefferson Barracks, Mariah climbed back inside the carriage and ordered the driver to return her and Echohawk to the hotel.
“Echohawk, how could he have done this to me?” Mariah said, staring blankly into space. “How?”
“He did not do it to you,” Echohawk said, taking her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “He did it to himself. His loss is greater than yours. He will never know the wonders of a love such as yours.”
“No, he shan’t ever know me,” Mariah said, stifling a sob of regret. “For my search is over. My secret is best left unspoken.”
She turned tear-filled eyes to Echohawk. “Take me home, darling,” she murmured. “I . . . I feel so foolish to have even asked you to bring me on such a . . . such a fruitless mission.”
She flung herself into his arms, her bonnet slipping from her head. “Take me home to your people so that I may become your wife soon,” she softly pleaded. “You are my life. I will forget my foolish notion of ever calling Colonel Snelling father to his face.”
“The boat we will travel on back to our people does not depart until morning,” Echohawk said, gazing down into her eyes. “Forget your disappointments. Being together is all that matters.”
“I have looked forward to staying in the hotel room this one night,” Mariah said, struggling to be grateful for what she did have in life. She had never truly had Josiah Snelling to call her father, so it should not be so hard to accept that she could not call him father even now.
Yes, she stubbornly decided. She could accept the loss, for it was a loss that she had lived with all of her life.
Mariah cuddled close to Echohawk, and when they arrived at the hotel, dusk had fallen. When they went inside the hotel lobby, the only candles that were lit were those on the branches of a ceiling-high Christmas tree. A fire crackled in the large stone fireplace at the far end of the room, casting a romantic glow around the room.
