Wild Ecstasy (26 page)

But what she was most anxious to see was Jefferson Barracks. Even though she wanted to go into some of the fancier shops to see the ribbons and laces, and perhaps even purchase herself a fancy bonnet and dress before presenting herself to her father, it was Colonel Snelling himself who was most prominent on her mind now.

“Sir, where might I find Jefferson Barracks?” she blurted as Captain Johns moved beside her at the rail.

“Ma'am, Jefferson Barracks is up the river a ways,” he said, pointing beyond Saint Louis proper. “You can hire a carriage to take you there.”

Mariah beamed up at Echohawk as he gazed down at her. “Echohawk, I shall see my father soon!” she said, thrilling to the thought. “Can you imagine? We are finally here and I . . . I will be able to see my father.”

“Your father?” Captain Johns asked, forking an eyebrow. “Does he make his residence at Jefferson Barracks?”

“Yes,” Mariah said, clasping her hands excitedly together before her.

“What is his name?” the captain asked, smiling. “Perhaps I know him.”

Mariah's smile faded, not feeling comfortable about revealing her father's name before he knew himself that he
was
her father.

But somehow it just came out. “Colonel Josiah Snelling,” she blurted. “He's my father.”

She frowned and cocked her head when she saw a sudden sour look come across the captain's face. He turned and walked away without another word.

“Why did he behave so strangely?” she asked, looking confusedly at Echohawk. “Perhaps he doesn't like my father.”

“Do not let one man's attitude take away your excitement today,” Echohawk said, placing an arm around her waist. “It is
your
day. Yours and your father's.”

Mariah inhaled a shaky breath, Echohawk's comforting words already causing her to forget the strange behavior of the riverboat captain. She was looking dreamily into the distance, ready to count out the moments until she could embrace her true father, until she could proudly present herself as his daughter.

Chapter 26

—Lowell

 

 

 

After leaving the riverboat, Echohawk held on to Mariah's elbow as they left the Mississippi behind and climbed the riverbank toward the frontier town of Saint Louis. The village they entered was filled with pretty whitewashed houses and cultivated gardens, a surprisingly civilized place considering its location on the edge of the frontier.

The sun warmed the snow, melting it, making their footing more secure as they traveled down the cobblestone main road that paralleled the river. Mariah was absorbing everything as they passed all kinds of different people—white, Indian and black.

She had never seen so many people at once or such lovely homes. Some were built of stone, while others were made of logs set upright in the ground, but all seemed sturdy and well cared for.

In one sweep of the eye Mariah saw several saloons, a millinery shop, two hotels, and various merchant shops. Her nose took her to stand at the window of a bake shop, emanating from it a rich aroma of cinnamon, apples, molasses, yeast, and the smoke of hickory and oak.

She looked anxiously up at Echohawk, who was tense and quiet beside her. Although she had never been to such a large town herself, she knew that it had to be an even stranger experience for Echohawk. She had seen how he had looked so warily at the men who sported large firearms at their hips, those men having stared just as warily back at him as he held his rifle tightly within one of his powerful hands.

She saw how Echohawk looked with wondering eyes at the dark-skinned men and women hustling by, apparently having never seen black people before. She had tried to explain that most were more than likely slaves, perhaps in town gathering up supplies for their masters, but he could not fathom the idea of one man owning another.

She saw how Echohawk flinched as he walked in the shadows of the taller buildings, having never seen anything as high, except for the walls at Fort Snelling and the high bluffs in the Minnesota wilderness.

“Echohawk, I have enough coins not only for lodging and a new dress and bonnet but also for a sweet bread,” Mariah said, trying to draw him into conversation. He had been so subdued, so quiet, since their arrival in Saint Louis. She wanted him to relax and enjoy it, the same as she. Before the end of the day she would even have cause to celebrate. She was going to claim her birthright!

“Sweet bread?” Echohawk said, forking an eyebrow. “What is a sweet bread?”

Mariah took his hand and began leading him toward the door of the bake shop. “It is something quite wonderful and delicious,” she said, giggling. “Come on. Share with me.”

Echohawk was hesitant, then went inside with her, his nostrils flaring with the pleasant aromas wafting through the air. He watched silently as Mariah transacted the business of acquiring what she called sweet bread. He saw her shake several coins from her buckskin pouch and hand them to the proprietor, dressed in white, then watched as she smiled broadly as she was handed something in a small sack.

“It smells and looks delicious,” Mariah said, leaving the bake shop with Echohawk. “Afer we settle down in a hotel, we shall have ourselves a private feast. I have had a sweet bread only once, and that was at the Snellings' residence. The icing! It just melts in one's mouth!”

They walked on, once again in silence, taking in everything. There were men in frock coats and vests, wearing fine leather boots. On their arms paraded ladies in silk gowns, feathered bonnets and furs. For the most part, the citizens of Saint Louis ignored them, but several ragged children stared rudely, curious to see a Chippewa walking side by side with a white woman dressed in buckskin.

Along the thoroughfare was a raised wooden sidewalk which they climbed onto when they passed several pigs rooting through garbage in the roadway. There was a confusion of carriages and horses trying to navigate the street as well, making it dangerous for pedestrians.

But something else drew Mariah's keen attention, making her wonder how she could have forgotten this special season of the year.

Christmas!

With all of the recent traumatic experiences, she had forgotten about Christmas!

They were now walking in a part of the frontier town where the shopping was enhanced by a town-wide effort at seasonal decorating. Beribboned greens wreathed and outlined the shops and buildings. Trees with shining ornaments graced each window.

The powerful perfume of the pine boughs reminded Mariah of the Christmases that she had shared with her mother before she had passed away. Without the aid of her father, Mariah and her mother had gone into the forest and had chosen the largest tree they could drag back to the house. They decorated it together, giggling and singing.

Once done, its boughs were heavy with myriad precious things. Amid many tapered candles had been hung intricate paper cutouts, cookies, pieces of taffy, tiny toys, gilded ornaments, strings of popcorn and cranberries, ribbon bows, and dried flowers.

At the tree's peak had floated a delicate angel....

Tears burned at the corners of Mariah's eyes, her vision of her mother clouded with the truths she now knew about her. She glanced over at Echohawk, knowing now that her mother had been immoral not only once, but many times. And Mariah was the result of one such affair!

Deep within her heart, Mariah knew that she could never forgive her mother for these infidelities.

This, again, reminded her of her mission today. Her true father! She did not want to delay seeing him much longer. She must hurry and buy herself a beautiful dress and bonnet. She then must find a hotel that would accept her and Echohawk as guests in the same room.

Mariah smiled up at Echohawk as they stopped in front of a shop that displayed velveteen dresses and matching bonnets. “Do you understand my need to dress differently today?” she asked softly. “I so want to look as pretty as I can for my father. And, Echohawk, I have wanted a velveteen dress and bonnet for so long! Just this once, darling. Then I shall never again wear anything but buckskin.”

She paused, then added, “And I want to buy a gift for Nee-kah . . . something that she will treasure.”

Echohawk placed a gentle hand to her cheek. “Today is your day,” he said softly. “You do what you must.”

Mariah hugged him, then grabbed his hand and led him into the shop with her.

When the woman in charge caught sight of Echohawk, she inhaled a quick startled breath and paled. She covered the diamond necklace that lay against the velvet of her dress, her thin lips pursing angrily as she glared at Mariah.

“I wish to see your most lovely velveteen dress,” Mariah said, ignoring the frustrated sales clerk, whose beady eyes annoyed more than angered her. “The color I prefer is pale green.”

“There are no dresses here for you,” the woman said, her narrow face pinched into a deep frown. “Now, be on your way.”

Echohawk took a bold step toward the woman. He towered over her and his eyes narrowed. “My wife sees many dresses,” he said, his voice drawn. “One of them will be hers.” He nodded to Mariah. “Find the one you wish to buy. Choose a bonnet. I have no doubt the lady here will take your gold in payment.”

The lady took a step back from Echohawk, fear in the depths of her eyes. “Yes, my dear,” she said thinly. “I will be. . . be happy to help you choose, if you wish.”

“No, that's not necessary,” Mariah said, hurriedly finding her size, the correct color, and then the bonnet that she felt was the loveliest of the many, with lace in abundance on it. She chose her special gift for Nee-kah, Echohawk's warm smile showing his approval, then quickly paid the clerk and waited for her purchases to be wrapped. She was glad to leave the shop, having hated putting Echohawk in such an awkward position.

Prejudices, it seemed, ran rampant everywhere, even in this frontier town of Saint Louis. She was saddened that it was hard for anyone to believe that there was such a thing as a peaceful Indian.

She dreaded the next chore, feared entering the hotel with Echohawk, and what the desk clerk's attitude might be when she paid for only one room—and only one bed.

But of course the clerk would not know that they were not married, so that did not concern her as much as what his attitude might be over an Indian staying in his hotel.

Again there were difficulties to be faced—and conquered!

Under any other circumstances Mariah would have been thrilled at the prospect of staying a full night in a fancy hotel room. Many times she had passed her lonely nights reading books that her father had acquired for her at various trading posts. She had read of the hotels where plush carpets covered the hardwood floors and satin draperies hung at the windows. She could not even conjure up thoughts of how soft the beds must be in such elegant rooms.

She silently said a prayer of thanks to Josiah Snelling for having remembered owing her father a gambling debt. She was taking much delight in spending the money!

The shadow of a four-story hotel fell across Mariah and Echohawk as they stepped up to the door. She looked at Echohawk, his arms filled with her purchases, his rifle resting in the crook of his left arm.

Then she walked on into the hotel, her chin held proudly high. Without hesitation, ignoring the murmurs and glances as people broke away on both sides, making room for her and Echohawk, Mariah went to the desk clerk and shook many coins from her buckskin pouch.

“I would like whatever room my money can pay for,” she said, looking square into the desk clerk's nervous eyes.

His eyes shifting to Echohawk, the clerk reached for a key behind him and grabbed one without seeing even which one he had chosen, then slapped it down on the desk. “And how will you be signing the register?” he asked, running a thin finger around the stiff white collar of his shirt.

“Mariah Temple,” Mariah said matter-of-factly. She took up the pen and scratched her name on the register, then grabbed up the key and held it out for Echohawk to see.

“And how about . . . about the Indian?” the clerk asked, now running his fingers nervously through his thinning gray hair.

“He is to share my room, of course,” Mariah said over her shoulder, prancing toward the steep staircase.

She again ignored those curious eyes in the lobby as Echohawk walked beside her to the stairs. But when he stopped and gazed slowly around, at the grandeur of the lobby, and then up the staircase, his eyes filled with wonder, Mariah understood.

“It's as new and as awesome to me,” Mariah said, leaning close to Echohawk so that only he heard her. “I've never seen anything as grand. Nor have I ever been on the fourth floor of a building. My, but we shall see perhaps clean down the river to Jefferson Barracks!”

They went up the stairs, stopping at each landing take a look from the window at the end of the corridor, then proceeded until they reached the fourth floor and found their room. When they stepped inside, Mariah's heart leapt with delight. It was as she had always dreamed a hotel room would be—grand and spacious.

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 two 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.