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In truth, she was the intruder. In truth, all white people were the intruders.
“I’m sorry for being so abrupt . . . so thoughtless.” she said in a rush of words. “Please allow me to once more thank you for being so caring that you would rescue me twice in one day.”
Strong Heart was surprised that the white woman had apologized for having spoken harshly to him. She seemed to be a lady with compassion.
And he could not deny that he was glad that she
was not married. Although he saw her as an interloper on what was once his people’s land, he could not stop his eyes from devouring her loveliness.
Her luminous green eyes stirred feelings within him that he had willed himself to ignore when in the presence of women whose beauty captivated him. His goal in life was to prepare himself to be a great chief, like his father. A commitment to one woman had been the last thing on Strong Heart’s mind.
It still was, yet the longer he was with this intriguing woman, the more he felt his reserve weakening.
Then he remembered the reason he had come to the bluff. It had been to watch the white men who had gone to the house to check on the smoke. When they had left on horseback, he feared they had gone after him. Surely this woman had told them about him. Yet they had traveled away from the mansion and the Sound, as if not in search of him but something else.
“Did you tell those two men that I was at the house?” he asked quickly.
“No, I did not see the need,” Elizabeth said slowly, not sure if she should trust him enough to be this truthful with him. She still did not know his intentions. She feared to ask him.
What if he was there scouting the place, to take back the news to his people that there were white people who should be slaughtered and a house to be burned?
What if she was falling into a trap by innocently befriending him?
Her father had always told her that she was the sort who trusted too easily.
At this, Strong Heart arched an eyebrow, again surprised by her. “Why did you not see the need?” he asked, watching her expression. “Did you not see me as the enemy?”
“How could I see you as the enemy when only a short while ago you thought you were saving me from a house that was on fire. And now? To have rescued me from a fall?” she offered quietly. She swallowed hard. “As for why I did not tell my father, I . . . I . . . am not quite sure, myself.”
Frannie’s voice reached up to the bluff and broke the spell that had captured Elizabeth and Strong Heart, causing Elizabeth to jump. She turned away from Strong Heart to peer down at the old house whose roof towered high above the treetops, knowing that it was best that Frannie didn’t see this new Indian. She had been too upset over the other Indian the night before.
Her eyes wide with the wonder of having met the young Indian again, Elizabeth turned back to question him, but he had fled into the forest. Then she heard a horse’s hoofbeats, and knew that the Indian was gone. She realized she had missed her chance to find out who he and the elderly Indian were, and why they were there. Apparently Frannie’s voice had frightened him away. Perhaps she would never see him again, and that filled her with regret. She had not had the chance to tell him why she was there, or what her father was constructing on the beach.
She decided it was for the best. She did not know what his reaction would be if he ever found out. She feared that no Indian would be happy to know that her father was going to interfere in their lives for his own personal gain.
She then recalled the horrid skulls perched atop the poles. Perhaps she had found the graveyard of this handsome Indian’s ancestors.
Frannie’s voice called to Elizabeth again, this time filled with anxiety. Elizabeth fled from the bluff and hurried through the forest, avoiding the burial site, and, breathless, met Frannie at the fringes of the forest.
“Elizabeth Easton. I told you not to stay in the forest so long,” Frannie scolded as they walked toward the house together. “You done went and frightened ol’ Frannie outta ten years of her life! You ain’t goin’ alone into the forest again. No sir, honey chil’. Neva’ again!”
Elizabeth listened patiently, yet not hearing, for her thoughts were on the Indian. She could not help but feel that something unspoken had passed between them, and somehow, some way, she had to find out exactly what.
She went back inside the house, and Frannie followed, still chastising her.
Chapter 4
Her face, it bloomed like a sweet flower
And stole my heart away complete.
—JOHN CLARE
Another long night of restless sleep had passed. Bored and frustrated, Elizabeth had a buggy readied, and ignoring Frannie’s pleadings against journeying away from the house again alone, she was now traveling toward Seattle, to acquaint herself with the city. As the horse trotted in a leisurely fashion along the dirt road, the sun shone brilliantly in the midmorning sky. Elizabeth sat comfortably on a cushion in her buggy, the brim of her lace-trimmed bonnet shading her eyes.
The day was warm. The air was perfumed by roses and wild flowers blooming alongside the road. A monarch butterfly drifted past overhead, riding a south wind. The white branches of sycamores broke the dense green foliage of the towering hardwood forest, and a symphony of bird-calls pervaded the leafy halls.
Elizabeth smiled, thinking that this day, indeed, was perfect for an outing. Yes, it was another day. Another adventure!
