Wild Innocence (21 page)

He will return to me. Me!
Rachel thought. Had she read too much into his words? She hoped not. She wanted Black Hawk to return to her.

This morning she worked to make a rush mat. Weaving was just one of the many things that Spring Blossom had taught her. Standing in the warm sun, Rachel looked at her sister's frame and smiled at Amelia's awkward attempts to weave. Her gaze went to Daniel's sister, who sat on the ground. Jane obviously knew what she was doing as her fingers moved quickly to weave a colorful shoulder sash.

“Where is Susie?” Rachel asked. She hadn't seen the child since the men had left yesterday morning. She knew that Susie had come; she was surprised that the little girl didn't cling more closely to her mother.

Spring Blossom and two Ojibwa matrons worked near the white women. “Little Flower is with Barking Dog,” Spring Blossom said. “They are at the rice marsh with Swaying Tree.”

It was the time of year when the Ojibwa took their birch-bark canoes into the waterways to harvest
manoomin,
which was wild rice. The Ojibwa used the rice in many dishes. Rachel had tasted several of them, and she had found the meals very palatable.

“Is it safe there?” Jane asked. She'd appeared nervous when she'd first come. She seemed more relaxed now, as if she finally understood that the Ojibwa were a kind people, who were no threat to any of them.

“Swaying Tree will watch over Little Flower,” Spring Blossom said. “Tomorrow, when the sun rises, I will show you how to harvest the rice. Rach-el can go with Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox. Jane can come with me.”

“I don't know.” Jane was hesitant about going.

“Why not, Jane?” Amelia said. “It sounds like fun.” She patted her belly. “I'd love to go myself, but I'm not my best in the morning.” She suffered from morning sickness these days, although she felt well by the afternoon.

“Tree-That-Will-Not-Bend, you can go with Swaying Tree later. Barking Dog's grandmother will show you what to do.”

Amelia's expression brightened.
“Miigwech.
I'd like that.”

“Wild rice gathering!” Rachel exclaimed. “I don't want to gather rice!” She looked accusingly at Amelia. “How can you think of harvesting while Father remains a Sioux captive!”

Her sister looked hurt. “Rachel, you must have faith in Black Hawk,” Amelia said.

“I do,” Rachel whispered, her eyes suddenly filling with tears. She felt a dull throbbing at the back of her neck. Contrite, she touched Amelia's arm. “I'm sorry, Amelia. I just can't stop worrying about them. What if the Sioux are stronger? What if they ambush our men first?”

“They won't attack first,” Jane said, speaking of the matter for the first time. Rachel knew that Jane was as worried as the rest of them, for her brother and Jack Keller were in the rescue party. “Black Hawk knows what he is doing.”

“I hope you're right,” Rachel said. “Yes, I know you're right, but . . .”

Later, while the others had gone to harvest the wild rice, Rachel stayed behind with a headache. Spring Blossom gave her a broth made from herbs for the pain; then Rachel went to the wigwam and lay down. Soon, her headache went away. Her concern for Black Hawk and the other men got her up and wandering aimlessly about the village.

She fretted about her father's kidnapping, and she worried about her new feelings for Black Hawk.

She loved Black Hawk and wanted to know more about him. But whom could she ask? Who would tell her about his boyhood and his father's murder?

Would she ever fully understand the man?

Black Hawk wants me,
she thought.
At least, he does in the physical sense.
Would he ever feel more? Could he ever love her?

He was consumed with finding his father's killer. How could there be room for love with revenge in his heart?

Rachel spied Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox near the edge of the village yard. Would the matron answer her questions about Black Hawk? The woman had been kind and patient with her, and she spoke perfect English. Womanwith-Hair-of-Fox had been born white, and then she'd been captured by the Ottawa Indians when she was eleven years old. Her life with the Ojibwa had come later after the Ottawa had traded her to the village of Big-Cat-with-Broken-Paw.

Rachel hailed Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox as the matron handed a water sack to a young boy. The woman shooed the child toward a wigwam, then waited with a smile for Rachel to join her.

“I have something to ask you,” Rachel said, “but I don't know if you want to answer my question.”

“What is your question?” The matron looked curious.

“Will you tell me about Black Hawk's father?” Rachel asked her. Her first thought had been to ask Spring Blossom, but then she remembered that the man had been the maiden's father, too. Any questions about him would only bring up bad memories for her.

Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox gazed at Rachel for a long moment without answering. “Come,” she said. “Let us walk.”

Rachel nodded and followed the woman's lead. “I'm sorry if I seem curious, but I just had to know.”

The matron gave her a soft smile. “You love him.”

“Why do you say that?” Rachel said with alarm. She looked away.

“I have seen it in your eyes when you watch him.”

“Oh, no!”

Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox patted her shoulder. “Do not be upset, Rachel. I see what others do not see. I see your love for Black Hawk, and Jane Milton's feelings for Jack Keller.”

“Jane cares for Jack?”

“Yes.” The matron gestured toward a path through the forest. “I saw this, just as I saw your sister's love for Man-with-Big-Head.”

Rachel changed direction, following the new trail. At the mention of Daniel's Indian name, she grinned.

“I will tell you what you want to know,” Woman-with-Hair of-Fox said.

They followed the river to the edge of a great lake. It was a cloudy day, but the water was no less beautiful. Here, Rachel could enjoy the clean air. She felt the breeze blowing in from off the water. She closed her eyes to savor the moment.

“Let us sit,” Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox suggested. They found a rock large enough for two. The matron was quiet for a time before she began to speak.

“He was a little boy, only eight years old, when he went on his first hunt with his father, Bear Tooth,” she began.

“The Ojibwa hunt so young?” Rachel asked.

“Sometimes, yes. Sometimes, no. Bear Tooth felt that his son was ready. Black Hawk was a good boy. He was very wise for eight summers. He had a sharp eye and could kill a bird in flight with a single arrow.”

Rachel smiled, trying to imagine him as a child. “I would like to have known him then.”

Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox smiled knowingly. “His father was proud of him. We were all proud of Black Hawk. The young warrior was pleased and excited when he learned that his father was to take him on his first big hunt.”

A shadow fell across the matron's expression, dulling her light eyes. “They left early when the sun was not yet up in the day's sky. Four warriors went with young Black Hawk. Bear Tooth taught his son how to track deer and other big animals, just as he'd shown him how to shoot a bird in flight. By the time the sun was high in the sky, the hunting party had two deer and one bear between the five hunters. Black Hawk's prize had been the biggest—a large black bear. The warriors were pleased. There would be food for everyone in the village. Two of our braves, Silver Wolf and Laughing Lake, went back to the village with the deer. Bear Tooth, Water Turtle, and Black Hawk stayed behind with the bear to prepare the animal and offer thanksgiving to the Bear Spirit. A bear is sacred to the
Anishinaabe.
A special offering to
Gichi-Manidoo
is made after a brave kills a bear.”

Tears filled the matron's eyes as she paused before continuing. “Black Hawk had left the clearing to find firewood. Bear Tooth and Water Turtle were there with the bear when the Sioux warriors came.”

Rachel felt a sudden chill and hugged herself with her arms. “What happened?” She wasn't sure she wanted to hear the tale, but she wanted to know ... because of Black Hawk.

“There were many enemy warriors and only two of our braves. The enemy surrounded Bear Tooth and Water Turtle; then they began to taunt and beat them. They cut them with their knifes and stabbed them with their spears. Black Hawk was returning to the campsite when he heard the enemy's laughter ... his father's screams.”

The matron's voice thickened. “The boy crept closer. Such a wise child not to run ahead and let his whereabouts be known.”

Rachel felt a burning in her stomach as she pictured the scene in her mind.

“Black Hawk waited,” the matron said. “He wanted to save his father and Water Turtle, but he didn't know how.”

Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox rose from the rock and moved to the edge of the water.

Rachel stood silently and joined her. Her throat felt so tight that she could barely swallow. She'd be forever haunted by the image of a frightened young Indian boy.

“What happened?” she said so softly her voice might not have been heard.

But the matron's sigh told Rachel that she had heard her. “There was a Sioux warrior. His name was He-Who-Kills-with-Big Stick. He was a cruel man. He enjoyed giving pain, even to one of his own people.

“This warrior began to poke and prod, first at Water Turtle and then at Black Hawk's father. He had
bagamaagan,
a big stick with a blade at one end. Many of the People have such weapons.”

“War clubs,” Rachel said.

The matron nodded. “Yes, war clubs.” She continued her story with a solemn expression. “He-Who-Kills-with-Big-Stick liked to use his war club more than most braves.”

Her imagination took over before Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox finished telling the tale. Rachel's stomach churned as tears filled her eyes so that she couldn't see. As the matron went on with the story, Rachel's imagination proved accurate. She heard about the awful horror that the two Ojibwa adult males endured that day. The horror consisted of torture, tormenting, sticks, and fire. Bear Tooth tried bravely, but futilely, not to cry out with pain, as Black Hawk watched, with tears trailing down his cheeks, as the Sioux tortured and murdered his father.

“There was a time during the ordeal when Black Hawk could no longer stay still. He started to go to his father's aid; but as if sensing his son's intention, Bear Tooth caught his son's gaze. It was said that the warrior sent his son a message with his eyes to save himself. Black Hawk was almost captured as he gazed at his father. A Sioux warrior heard his movement and looked to the forest where the boy was hidden. To keep his son from discovery, Bear Tooth began to taunt the Sioux and further enrage them. He brought their attention away from Black Hawk and back to himself. Bear Tooth suffered, but was glad he had saved his son.

“When the Sioux were done, there wasn't much left of our warriors. Black Hawk stayed hidden while his father and friend were killed, and then longer still while the Sioux braves feasted on Black Hawk's bear. When the Sioux left, they left the rest of the bear behind. Black Hawk ran to his father and Water Turtle. Then, with tears on his face and his weapons drawn, he watched over the bodies to protect them from predators.”

“Poor Black Hawk,” Rachel whispered, her throat aching.

Woman-with-Hair-of-Fox nodded. “When the warriors and Black Hawk didn't return to the village, Silver Fox and Laughing Lake came back to look for them. They found the little warrior Black Hawk sitting rigidly in a tiny clearing, his expression blank, his weapons still raised for protection. Horrified and grieving, the warriors brought the bodies back to the village for the funeral ceremony.

“Black Hawk was quiet for a long time after that. There was such sadness in his eyes, it hurt to look at him. The people in the village called him a great hunter because he had killed the bear. They were sad and angry at the death of their own, but they saw the greatness in Black Hawk. Time had passed since Bear Tooth's passing; they wanted to celebrate his son. But Black Hawk didn't want to celebrate. He didn't want to be a great hunter. He only wanted his father back.”

“Oh, Black Hawk,” Rachel whispered.

“Then one day, Black Hawk spoke,” the matron said. “He vowed vengeance on He-Who-Kills-with-Big-Stick and the Sioux who had done this. He said no more about the killings after that. He lived among us as any young brave. He had proved a mighty warrior when he killed his first bear. Despite having seen his father's death, Black Hawk was a wise warrior. Big-Cat-with-Broken-Paw made him war chief. Black Hawk is a good war chief.”

“But his desire for revenge hasn't made him”—Rachel thought hard for the right word—“reckless?”

The matron shook her head. “He fights when it is time to fight. He has waited many years to find He-Who-Kills-with-Big Stick. Only when his father's death is avenged will Black Hawk be healed.”

 

 

They returned in the bright light of day. Rachel heard the joyful cries of the villagers. Hurrying from the wigwam, where she'd been spreading fresh scented pine boughs on the floor, she saw the group of men. She cried out with gladness and rushed to meet them.

“Father!”

John Dempsey, looking weary but well, smiled as he saw his youngest daughter. Amelia had already joined the group and was hugging her husband Daniel. After embracing her father, Rachel searched for Black Hawk, but didn't see him. Her heart started to pound with fear. Where was Black Hawk? Had he been hurt ... or killed? She studied her brother-in-law. Surely, Daniel would have told her immediately.