Savage Betrayal (5 page)

The traders opened the whole west coast to a much larger world and good leadership was needed among the Indian peoples to protect their interests.

The traders protested that they only wanted sea otter furs for which they would gladly exchange swords, knives, metal buttons, tools and ornaments. Fighting Wolf was very glad to exchange the furs for knives, but what he really wanted were the “mus-kets.” He had managed to get several of the weapons on his last trip to Yuquot. Such strategic planning kept the Ahousats better armed than their neighbors.

Fighting Wolf was not so sure that sea otter skins would keep the greedy traders satisfied for long. He had observed them closely when he visited Yuquot, and he saw how arrogantly they treated the Indian people; how they laughed when the people were standing on the big ships waiting to trade their hard-earned furs.

He saw, too, how they looked at the women, these men who had been away from their own women for many moons, and he did not like what he saw. One of the traders, a rather portly fellow, with a red face and even redder hair, was constantly licking his lips and touching his crotch whenever a woman came near him. The sight disgusted Fighting Wolf.

From the inhabitants of Yuquot, he had heard that after every tall ship left the harbor, many of the village people became very sick for a time, some even died. He did not want his people exposed to those sick white people. He was content to make the voyage to Yuquot when he had furs to trade. No need to encourage the tall ships to stop at Ahousat; he would keep his people away from the whites.

Amazed at the time he had spent reminiscing, Fighting Wolf arrived at his longhouse and stepped into the darkened interior. Blinking his eyes, he adjusted them to the sharp contrast after the bright sunlight outside. Reoriented, he glanced around at the bundles and chests that marked his apartment off from the others.

Sitting quietly in a corner, his sister, Precious Copper, was weaving softened cedar strands into a winter cloak. She raised her eyes to his and asked in her musical voice, “Did your meeting go well, brother?”

She gazed briefly at his face then dropped her eyes to her work when she received no answer. She sighed quietly. Fighting Wolf had become so bitter since the death of his wife and infant son three long years ago, she thought to herself. Sometimes it was almost as if he didn’t care about anyone or anything. After the death of their father a year later, his feelings had turned to rage. Fighting Wolf had always been close to their father and he still had not recovered from the older man’s death.

Many times Precious Copper had found herself hoping that a young woman from the village would catch her brother’s eye; that he would want to marry again and put his losses behind him, to the past where they belonged. But her brother was content to visit several different women; he had not established a stable relationship with any of them. Nor had he forgotten the deaths of those he loved.

Precious Copper knew he had approached the Hesquiats about marrying one of their women. She thought it strange that he would marry an enemy, but she was glad of his decision to marry. He was not acting like a man about to take a bride, however; he continued to visit his various paramours and parried her questions whenever she inquired about her new sister-in-law to-be.

She suspected something was afoot. There had been several meetings of all the warriors, but no word leaked out as to what was discussed at the councils.

Fighting Wolf looked fondly at his only sister. Her straight, black hair hung in two heavy braids on either side of her delicate face. A high forehead with finely arched brows gave her face a studied dignity. Her small nose and finely drawn lips were set in a sweet face, made even sweeter when she smiled by the dimple in each cheek.

“The meeting went well enough,” he finally answered.

Seeing that this approach would gain her nothing, Precious Copper switched tactics. “I’m looking forward to greeting my new sister-in-law soon. I think you’re very wise to bury the hatred we’ve had for the Hesquiats for so long.”

Noticing the wide grin he shot at her, she continued, “What are you laughing at? You know I hate war. I truly hope this marriage you’ve arranged with the Hesquiats will stop all the senseless killing.”

She bent to her work again. “My brother, I’ll truly try to make your new bride feel welcome…” She looked up, sincerity shining on her face. “Even if she is a Hesquiat.”

He stared at her before answering. When he did, his voice was cold. “Don’t involve yourself in my business.” Seeing Precious Copper recoil from his tone, he added more gently, “You’ll meet the woman soon, but you may regret your kind offer to make her feel welcome.”

He flashed her a smile as he made that enigmatic statement, then turned and strode out through the doorway, leaving a dazzling blaze of sunlight that lit up the room, then disappeared as the skin swung back into place.

Precious Copper thoughtfully went back to her weaving. She felt a chill of foreboding. Something was definitely afoot. But what?

* * * *

Precious Copper is getting too concerned about my personal life
, Fighting Wolf reflected as he strode down to the beach.
Time to marry her off and let her concern herself with a husband and children.

He sighed. In the past, he’d been too busy with his own pursuits to tend to the business of arranging her marriage. He’d talk to his uncle, Scarred Mouth, the senior ranking chief of the village. He recalled the old man had mentioned two recent requests from neighboring tribes for her hand in marriage. He supposed he should choose the warrior with the most assets and fighting men.

She’d be angry, though. Every time he’d brought up the topic before, she’d fought him, saying she had not seen anyone she could love. Women! Why did they confuse love with marriage? The two were separate. Everyone knew that one married for wealth and status—at least the noble class did.

Still, she was his sister and the only close family left to him now that the others were dead. He realized suddenly that he wanted to see her happy. And if anything happened to her…he didn’t allow himself to complete the thought.

Yes, he decided, when the trouble with the Hesquiats was settled, for her sake he would marry her off to a good man who would love and care for her, not just for her wealth or the alliance with their tribe.

Glancing up at the sky, he speculated that it was going to rain soon. He hurried down to his canoe to prepare for the forthcoming raid.

As he strode down the path to his canoe, an attractive, willowy girl with flashing eyes intercepted him. She greeted him eagerly. “Fighting Wolf, where are you off to in such a hurry? Visit with me awhile. Better still, why not come to my longhouse and I’ll prepare you a meal?” Her dark eyes sparkled and her shining black hair gleamed, even in the dull light of an overcast sky.

He realized he was hungry and politely accepted her invitation. As they walked slowly to her longhouse, Rough Seas regarded him coquettishly and said, “I hear rumors that you’re marrying a Hesquiat. You don’t have to look so far for a bride. I’m right here.”

Fighting Wolf answered lightly, “Why take another husband? You just got rid of one.”

“Ohhh, him!” she pouted. “He was too boring. All he wanted to do was fish, hunt, trade, and potlatch. He was always trying to show others what a great chief he was.”

“That’s what all men do,” answered Fighting Wolf dryly. “That is, men who care about their families and want the best for them.”

“He had no time for me,” she stated petulantly.

“I thought it was the other way around,” laughed Fighting Wolf.

“What do you mean?” she asked innocently.

“The men,” he prodded. “The many lovers you took while he was gone fishing or hunting or trading. Remember?”

“Oh. Them,” she sighed. She smoothed the irritated frown from her brow. “He didn’t care about them.”

Fighting Wolf thought that was probably true. Jealousy was frowned upon by Nootka men and women. It was the jealous spouse who was scolded by friends and relatives, not the wandering wife or philandering husband. It was foolish to fight over a woman; a jealous man never became wealthy if he was worrying about who his wife was sleeping with. A wife was cautioned not to get upset over her husband’s amorous affairs. Men were like that, anyway.

She watched him covertly. “Would it bother you if your wife had lovers?” she asked.

“Not particularly,” he answered indifferently. “No one would catch me making a fool of myself over a woman.” He grinned. “Why do you ask?”

She shrugged, but did not answer his question; she turned her dark brown eyes on his and batted heavy eyelashes. “I’ve given up all my lovers,” she remarked.

“Oh?”

“Yes. I wanted you to know that. I—I wouldn’t want any other man if I could have you.”

He laughed. “I suppose that’s because you’ve already sampled every high ranking chief, married and otherwise, in the village.”

She shrugged again. “They don’t thrill me like you do, Fighting Wolf.”

“Is that so? I only thrill you because I don’t come every time you call me.” She flushed and he knew he’d accurately guessed why she was attracted to him.

“Oh, Fighting Wolf. Look around you,” she gestured at the surrounding longhouses they were passing on their walk. “How many eligible women are there here for you?” When he didn’t answer, she went on, “There’s none. Except me. I’d make the perfect wife for you.” His silence encouraged her; she rushed on, hoping to convince him. “Both our families are wealthy. Our names are spoken with respect. I’ve even had practice as a wife. What more could you want?”

Fighting Wolf looked at her askance. “As to wealth, marriage to you won’t bring me any extra wealth. The bride price I’d have to give would equal the repayment gift your family would have to return… neither of us would profit from the exchange. So don’t try and bribe me into marriage.” He paused. “As you said, we both come from powerful, illustrious families. There’s no problem there.”

“Then where is the problem?” She wanted to shriek at him, but managed to control her voice.

“The problem,” he said calmly, “is that I don’t want to get married at this time.”

“Oh?” she sneered. “What about the Hesquiat?”

Mentally cursing himself for forgetting the impending “marriage,” he answered coolly, “The Hesquiat woman is none of your concern.”

Feeling his withdrawal, she implored, “Fighting Wolf, I love you. Surely you know that. I’ll even be your second wife. For no other man would I suggest such a thing.”

“I appreciate your sacrifice,” he chuckled. “But there’s really no need.”

“Ohhh, how can you be so cruel as to laugh at me?” she demanded. She was relieved to reach her longhouse and step inside, away from prying eyes. “What’s so wonderful about this Hesquiat woman, anyway?” she asked sullenly. “Why won’t you take another wife?”

“It’s not that I won’t take another wife,” he said calmly. “I will. It’s just that I do not wish a second wife right now.” His voice turned grim. “One is enough.”

Hearing his solemn tone, Rough Seas felt renewed hope. “I understand,” she said.

“You do?” he asked, surprised.

“Yes, I do. Oh, Fighting Wolf, why didn’t you tell me?” She threw herself into his unsuspecting arms. “How generous of you.”

“You’re talking nonsense, woman,” he stated sternly, trying to disengage her arms from around his neck.

“I understand now,” she said, laughing up into his eyes, her good humor miraculously restored. “You’re doing it for our people. You’re only marrying that Hesquiat for political reasons. You don’t love her!” Rough Seas’ voice rang with triumph. “Oh, Fighting Wolf, I’m so glad! She’ll never come between us, I swear!” She threw her arms around his waist and cuddled close to the bemused man.

He stared straight ahead, thoughtful.

She looked up at his again. “I can understand such a marriage. I can only respect a man who would go to such lengths to save our people.”

Of course,
she thought to herself,
I’ll make sure it’s a marriage in name only.
She released her grip, then took his hand. “Come,” she enticed, leading him towards her bed. “Let’s celebrate our new understanding!”

The summer village where Sarita resided totaled eleven longhouses of various lengths. Her father lived in the biggest longhouse; appropriate for his standing as chief of the village. Thunder Maker’s family, his four wives and their several children, occupied the best corner of the house. Across the way, in the second choicest space, lived Feast Giver and his servants. The two corners near the door were occupied by two lower ranking chieftains and their families. The middle of each wall was the space allotted to commoner families who were distantly related to, and wished to work for, Thunder Maker.

Sarita kneeled on a cedar mat in her father’s quarters. Packing her best woven-cedar robes into a wooden chest, she was preparing for the move to her betrothed’s village. The wedding was two days away.

Spring Fern, acting as maid this time, was helping her pack. As the two worked, they chatted quietly together in the cozy confines of the family’s living space.

The cedar kutsacks that Sarita lovingly packed into her wooden chest had been made from cedar bark soaked in salt water and beaten into a soft fibrous thread then woven into the ankle-length robes that women—and men—always wore. She included several small cedar aprons to be worn under the dress in the women’s style. Men went naked under their kutsacks.