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“Ma’am he was forty-six years of age,” Lieutenant Osborne said, his voice drawn. “His death was attributed to chronic diarrhea, and/or its remedy, opium.”
“You . . . you are so kind to take the trouble of coming to break the news to me and my husband,” Mariah murmured, her heart aching in her sadness.
“It was not I who made the decision to come,” Lieutenant Osborne said sheepishly. “William Joseph Snelling asked me to. He thought that perhaps you and Echohawk would like to know of Colonel Snelling’s passing.”
Mariah’s heart skipped a beat, her eyes widened. “William Joseph sent you?” she murmured. Her color began to return at the hope of perhaps seeing him again. “Is he at Fort Snelling now? Will he be there for long? Or will he be leaving, to return to Washington for his father’s burial?”
“William Joseph isn’t at Fort Snelling,” Lieutenant Osborne said softly. “He wired us the news. Ma’am, he hasn’t been back to Fort Snelling since he left for Boston to become involved in politics.”
A keen disappointment swept through Mariah. She lowered her eyes. “I see,” she said, her voice breaking. Then she squared her shoulders and firmed her jaw. “Lieutenant, I thank you so much for coming to us to tell us of Colonel Snelling’s passing,” she said, reaching out for a handshake again. “Perhaps you would like to stay the night? It’s a long ride back to the fort. And the temperatures are just barely above freezing.”
Lieutenant Osborne looked uncomfortably from one brave to the other at his side, and smiled shakily at Mariah. “I appreciate your offer . . . your kindness,” he said, shaking her hand vigorously, then placing his hat back on his head. “But I think it’s best if I get back to the fort to see to my duties.”
“You might want to at least have a bite to eat before leaving,” Mariah said, yet wanting to be left alone to her thoughts—to her own silent grieving. Her father never knew of this daughter who could have loved him oh, so much, had she been given the opportunity!
“I’ve brought along enough provisions for myself,” Lieutenant Osborne said, turning to swing himself quickly into his saddle. He tipped his hat to Mariah. “Sorry to be the one to bring you such sad tidings. Perhaps the next time we meet, it will be under more favorable circumstances.”
Mariah smiled weakly up at him. “Yes, perhaps,” she murmured, then waved as he gave her a last look over his shoulder and rode away at a gallop.
Unable to hold back the tears, Mariah let herself shed those for what had not been—for a father’s love that had been denied her—and then she wiped her eyes clear of tears over one sadness, to be troubled by something else. She peered into the forest at the snow-laden limbs of the trees.
Echohawk.
Where is he? she worried to herself.
He had left early in the morning to check the rabbit and bird snares in the forest, but she knew that he should have been back by now. Yesterday they had received their first snowstorm of the season, but during the night the storm had ceased. At sunrise the cold had been extreme. The smaller twigs had been covered with a thick rime, and the atmosphere had held only minute glittering particles of snow.
That was when Echohawk had gone out into the forest, even though Mariah had feared for his safety. It had been a fretful night of wolves howling eerily. She had had nightmares of the rabid wolf that had come close to attacking Echohawk so long ago.
And also there was always the renegade Sioux White Wolf to worry about. Still no one had found him to make him pay for his wrongful deeds. And while he was still free, hating Echohawk as he did, Echohawk was not safe.
Her heart pounding out her fear, Mariah rushed back inside the wigwam, breathless with her need to go and search for Echohawk. “Nee-kah, can you watch Night Hawk for a while longer?” she asked, bending over her son, smoothing her hands through his coarse black hair, the child an exact replica of his father.
“Where are you going?” Nee-kah asked, rising slowly to her feet, panic filling her eyes. “You aren’t leaving with the white pony soldier, are you? I thought I heard his horse leave already. And why was he here? I did not hear all that well what was being said. The children were laughing and car
rying on so!”
“Gah-ween, no, I am not leaving with the pony soldier,” Mariah said, drawing on heavy fur mittens and strapping snowshoes on her feet. She stopped and turned sad eyes to Nee-kah. “The soldier brought word of Colonel Snelling’s death. I am saddened terribly by the news, Nee-kah. But I am suddenly worried about someone else far more dear to me. Echohawk. I must go and find him. He has been gone for too long. I fear . . . I fear . . . something is wrong.”
“I did not know Colonel Snelling,” Nee-kah said softly. “But I hear he was a fine man.” She went to Mariah and placed a hand on her arm. “As for you leaving, No-din, I do not see it as wise. Echohawk will be home soon. Do not worry so!”
“I cannot sit here warmed by the fire, laughing and watching our children, while Echohawk might be out there somewhere alone and in danger,” Mariah said, grabbing up a rifle and slipping extra bullets into the pocket of her dress. She turned and walked toward the entrance flap. “I must go, Nee-kah. I must.”
After stepping outside, Mariah pulled her fur hood farther forward to protect her face from the bitter cold, then trudged through the snow to her toboggan, feeling that it might be needed, in case she found her husband injured and unable to ride on his horse. She placed the rifle in the toboggan, then with eager steps began dragging it through the snow.
Since very little fresh snow had fallen since Echohawk’s departure, she found the tracks of his horse, leading farther and farther into the forest. The cold nipping at her nose, the forest quiet, Mariah moved steadily onward, the sled behind her. The longer she walked, the less she could find the tracks. The winds had become brisk, shaking snow from the trees onto the ground cover of snow beneath them, erasing the tracks.
Her heart pounding, her legs becoming weak in her weariness, Mariah began to think of how foolish this search might have been, after all. The ache of her back was a reminder of her pregnancy.
Should she lose this child . . .
She came to an instant halt when she heard gunfire echoing and ringing through the trees from a short distance away to her right.
Panic filled her when there was then a strange sort of charged silence.
She took her rifle from the toboggan. Then, leaving the toboggan behind, she began running through the forest, forgetting everything but her desperate need to see if Echohawk had been the one to fire the gun, and at what.
She paled and felt suddenly weak-kneed when a short distance away she saw Echohawk lying in the snow, a wolf stalking him, two lying dead close beside her husband.
