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By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d.
—William Shakespeare
Mia was so distraught over her father’s death, she found it hard to go on. She was thankful that at least the young chief was allowing her to bury her father before she was taken to his village as a captive.
Mia had no idea what lay ahead of her. She knew nothing of any Indian tribe’s habits, except for what she had read of terrible atrocities they had committed against white people out West.
She had also read accounts of the cavalry slaughtering huge numbers of Indians at a time, men, women, and children, alike. Part of her did not blame them for fighting back in any way that they could.
As she knelt beside her father for a moment longer, she cast a smoldering glance over her shoulder at Wolf Hawk. He was standing several feet away from her, watching her along with his warriors.
“Please?” she suddenly blurted out. “Can’t you go and stand somewhere else as I say a prayer over my father? Can you not be decent enough to let me be, as I…I…bury my father? You are responsible for his death by frightening him into a heart attack. At least give him the respect that is due him, for he did not have a mean bone in his body. He never would have done anything to harm you or your people. He was a gentle, loving man.”
She wiped tears from her eyes as she gazed directly into the young chief’s eyes. “You have lost someone dear to you,” she said, her voice softer. “The two young braves. Did you not have a time of mourning for them? Please allow me the privacy to mourn the one I love…and have lost.”
Wolf Hawk listened with his heart. There was so much about this fragile woman that made him believe that she spoke the truth when she said she had had nothing to do with the traps that had killed the two braves.
Yet the evidence of the pelts was against her. He could not give up the chance that the trappers would come to claim her once she was taken captive to his village.
No, he would not allow the sweetness of her voice, nor the pleading look in her lovely green eyes, to sway him from what he must do. Nonetheless, he did understand that she needed moments alone with her father. It was the only decent thing to do; to give her those moments.
He said nothing, but nodded to his warriors and stepped away her. He led them to the entrance of the fort, where the gate stood open, and waited there. From this position, he could still see her kneeling over the body of her father just outside the cabin.
He could also keep an eye on the tiny man who stood somewhat away from the woman and her father. He saw no respect whatsoever in the man’s eyes, nor sadness. All that Wolf Hawk could identify was annoyance when the tiny, whiskered man gazed down at the woman whose name was Mia.
Wolf Hawk’s instincts told him that this tiny person was not a man of good heart. He was the one that Wolf Hawk would question at length once they returned to their village.
He would leave Mia alone to mourn her father while he took this man, called rightfully enough by the name Tiny, and question him until he finally told the truth.
“Thank you,” Mia murmured to Wolf Hawk. “I…won’t…be long.”
Wolf Hawk nodded, then turned to his warriors. “Blue Sky, go and direct the others to return to the entrance of the fort. We must prepare several travois to transport the pelts we found here back to our village. Tell them to hurry, for we shall all be leaving soon for our village.”
Blue Sky nodded and hurried to do his chief’s bidding.
Wolf Hawk turned again and watched the woman as she stood up and went to the small man. He bent his ear in their direction, to hear what they were saying, for he did not want anything to get past him. He had given this woman his permission to bury her father. Nothing more.
He saw the tiny man go into the cabin and return with a rusty shovel in his hands. He could hear the woman pleading with the little man to please dig the grave for her.
“Mia, I’ll dig this damn grave for you, but hear me well when I tell you that I am sneaking away from this place at my first opportunity,” Tiny said just loudly enough for Mia to hear.
She watched as he began to dig the dirt out of the ground, seemingly only an inch at a time. Again she was reminded of what a useless man he was and regretted the moment her father had hired him. She had wondered sometimes if he was running from the law, for he seemed the shiftless sort who might have done something that warranted jail time.
“Did you hear me, Mia?” Tiny demanded, pausing to rest for a moment on the shovel. “I’m sneaking away when I see the chance. You can stay and face the music, yourself. I’m not paying for the wrongful acts of others and I don’t give a damn what happens to you. I was paid to steer the scow to St. Louis, nothin’ more. It’s not my fault that all your plans have gone awry.”
Mia stiffened as he talked. Tiny was now leaning lazily against the shovel instead of digging.
She was afraid the young chief might come at any moment and order them away before the grave was dug and her father laid to rest in it.
“You lazy coward,” she hissed out. “I don’t care what you do after you get that grave dug. You are a useless, horrible human being.”
“Oh?” Tiny said, lifting his eyebrows. He threw the shovel at her. “If you’re going to call me useless, why should I waste my time digging a grave? You do it yourself. Your father was nothing to me. Do you hear? Nothing.”
Mia gasped at his words. She knew the ground was hard and doubted that she could finish digging a grave large enough for her father.
But seeing that Tiny meant what he was saying, and that he had gone back inside the cabin, leaving her alone to complete the chore, she began crying. She tried to dig the grave, but found it impossible.
She knew that she must, though, so she continued to chop at the earth, only dislodging tiny bits of dirt.
