Wild Innocence (23 page)

Of Black Hawk, there was no sign. Rachel told herself she was grateful. She managed to convince herself that she didn't want to see him. Seeing him would be too painful for her, she reasoned.

Yet she looked for him, hoping ... wishing that their last meeting had never occurred ... that she'd dreamed the whole encounter and that Black Hawk wasn't going to leave.

But she knew that it had happened. Black Hawk's absence from this group of friends only confirmed that things were not as they should be. Amelia apparently thought so, too.

“Where is Black Hawk?” she asked Daniel.

Daniel shrugged as he continued to eat. “This soup is delicious,” he said.

Rachel felt a lightening of her spirits. “Thank you.”

He looked at her with surprise. “You made this?” She nodded. “It's good.”

“Are you shocked?” she asked without anger.

He smiled. “No, not at all. I may have underestimated you before, but not now.”

Rachel allowed her lips to curve. “That means a lot to me.”

“Daniel,” Amelia said, “you still haven't told me where Black Hawk is. I heard something about him leaving soon. Is that true?”

“Where did you hear that?” Rachel asked, her heart thumping hard. Had someone heard her conversation with Black Hawk?

“Susie told me. Apparently, Conner overheard his grandmother.”

“And Conner knows so much?” Daniel teased.

Amelia looked at him. The way he said it told her that it was in fact true. “He is leaving, isn't he?” she said quietly. Her questioning glance went to Rachel.

“It's true,” Rachel said.

Amelia turned back to her husband. “What is it?” She frowned. “Does this have something to do with his father?”

Daniel looked uncomfortable. “What do you mean?”

“Yes,” Rachel said, and husband and wife looked at her.

“He told you,” Daniel murmured.

“Yes, he told me.”

Her brother-in-law looked at her thoughtfully. “I didn't know if he would.”

“Told her what?” Amelia asked.

“That Black Hawk is leaving to avenge his father's death,” Rachel said with bitterness.

Daniel frowned. “He has to go, you know.”

“What Black Hawk does means little to me,” Rachel said stiffly.

Amelia regarded her sister, then her husband curiously. “Rachel, I thought Black Hawk and you were friends.”

“We were—are.”

“Then how can you be so unconcerned?” Amelia asked.

Rachel stood with her bowl. “I'm not indifferent. It's just none of my business,” she said as she started to walk away.

“But, Rachel—”

“Leave her be, love,” Daniel said.

Amelia looked at him and saw a frown settle on his brow as he continued to study her sister. As if sensing Amelia's regard, he turned and smiled at her. She didn't return his smile.

“Is it possible that she's in love with him?” she asked.

“I hope not,” Daniel answered.

“Why would you say that? He's your friend.”

“I say it because Rachel doesn't have a chance, and I don't want her to be hurt. Black Hawk has only one thing on his mind right now and that is finding his father's murderer.”

“You don't think she ... they ...” The thought of intimacy between Black Hawk and Rachel under the circumstances deeply disturbed Amelia.

“No.” Daniel shook his head. “No, definitely not. Black Hawk wouldn't.” He finished eating and put aside his bowl. He reached for his wife's dish, and she handed it to him.

“And Rachel
would ...
lie with him?” she challenged, upset. Did he think that Rachel was a wanton?

“No!” he said. “I don't mean any offense.”

She raised her eyebrows when he looked at her. “What do you mean?”

He touched her cheek, then ran his fingers down to her neck. Cupping her throat, he kissed her. She closed her eyes and gave in to the kiss.

“That,” he said softly as he released her. “I have only to touch you and you're mine.”

“But that's different. I love you and ...” Her eyes widened with understanding.

He smiled. “And if your sister loved Black Hawk?”

“She'd give herself to him without thought,” Amelia answered.

 

 

Feeling guilty for leaving them so abruptly, Rachel returned to find Daniel and Amelia kissing. Startled, she hung back until they parted. As she approached, she overheard their conversation. Her jaw tightened. They'd been talking about her and Black Hawk.

“That's my point,” she heard Daniel say to her sister. “But not to worry. Black Hawk's an honorable man. He wouldn't touch her.”

Amelia smiled with relief. “Of course, you're right,” she said. “Black Hawk would never touch her.”

Wrong, dear family,
Rachel thought. She hurried away before her family could see her.
He already has.

She couldn't sleep. Rachel rose from her sleeping pallet and left the wigwam. There were still other villagers about the clearing. A matron moved silently from one wigwam to another. The scent of tobacco smoke drew Rachel's attention toward the edge of the clearing and a group of men in quiet conversation, sharing a pipe.

Embers glowed from the communal fire. Rachel headed toward its warmth and was surprised to see her father. John Dempsey sat near the fire, staring into the flames. She approached and hunkered beside him.

“Father,” she said softly, drawing his gaze, “what are you doing up?”

“I couldn't sleep.”

She studied him with concern. “Are you all right?”

He nodded. “Couldn't sleep either?”

“No,” she admitted. “No, I couldn't.” She slipped her hand beneath his arm and shifted closer to him, snuggling against his side. “I'm glad you're safe. I was so worried.”

He gave her a slight smile before his gaze returned to the fire. “I was fine. They never harmed me.”

“But they could have.”

“Yes,” he said, “they could have.” He reached toward a pile of sticks and added a few to the fire. Flames sprang to life, and the wood crackled as it burned. John stared, as if mesmerized, at the orange sparks that floated toward the sky.

Rachel frowned as she studied her father. “What's bothering you?” she asked softly.

He looked at her. “I shouldn't have brought you here. You or your sister.”

“You didn't bring me,” she pointed out. “I came on my own.”

“Still, you shouldn't be here. It's not safe. I'd convinced myself the first time that it wouldn't happen again, but it did.”

He was referring to the first occasion when there'd been trouble with the Indians, she realized. She captured his hand and cradled it within her fingers. His hands were soft, without calluses, a doctor's hands. “Amelia and are here because we want to be.”

He stared for a moment at their joined hands. “You belong in Baltimore, with all your young men.”

She cringed.
All of my young men?
Had she had that many? She only remembered Jordan, the one man she'd wanted back then. Her other beaux had paled in comparison to Jordan. Their attention and flattery seemed a distant memory to her. “I like it here. I don't want to go back to Baltimore.”

“You had a life there. Parties. Balls. What do you have here? Nothing. Just an old fool for a father.”

Rachel gazed at him with alarm. “You are not an old fool,” she said. She gave his hand an affectionate squeeze. “You're a fine man and a wonderful father.”

“You should go home to Baltimore.”

She tensed. “No. I like it here.” Hadn't she been a good assistant? She asked him.

“Of course, you have.” He glanced back at the fire.

“Then, please, no more talk of my life in Baltimore.”

“But Rachel, you're a beautiful woman. You had many beaux there. What do you have here but an old man?”

“I resent your calling my pa an old man,” she said. She was pleased to see his lips curve.

“Your annoying young man must certainly be over you by now. Surely, it's safe for your return.”

Oh, he's gotten over me by now,
she thought. “It's not what you think, Father.”

“Good for you to be with people your own age,” he murmured, “... beaux ... husband.”

Rachel frowned.
He isn't making any sense.
She sighed heavily and closed her eyes. Perhaps it was time to tell her family the truth. “Father, about Jordan—”

“Rach-el.”

She froze, then glanced up to find Black Hawk a few yards away, gazing at her, looking tense. His dark eyes glistened in the firelight.

“Black Hawk.” She felt suddenly breathless.

“John Dempsey,” he said to her father. “I would speak with your daughter.”

John looked at the two of them and pulled his hand from Rachel's grasp. Rachel glanced at her father. “Go on, daughter,” he urged her.

Black Hawk was there to help her up as she scrambled to her feet. The warmth of his fingers made her stomach flutter. He released her hand as soon as she was standing.

“Come,” he said.

Rachel glanced at her father to see his reaction, but John Dempsey stared at the fire again, consumed with his own thoughts.

“Where are we going?” she asked. Her voice sounded weak and shaky to her own ears.

“Not far.”

She followed Black Hawk's lead into the forest. They continued until the village and the glow from the fire were out of sight. This night there was enough light to see. Black Hawk touched her arm, then gestured toward a fallen tree trunk. Rachel sat and Black Hawk positioned himself beside her.

Her heart thundered within her chest. She hadn't expected to see him. With his decision to leave the next day, she would have thought he'd be in his wigwam sleeping, so he'd be well rested for his journey. But here it was late and he was awake. Had he changed his mind?

Neither spoke, and the tension for Rachel became unbearable. She shifted on her seat, then started to rise.

He grabbed her arm. “Don't go.”

She tensed, then sat again. “Why have you brought me here?”

“You go back to the mission tomorrow.”

She didn't reply. Yes, she was going back tomorrow, she thought. Did he think she needed a reminder?

“I did not want you to go without this man's apology.”

She flashed him a startled glance. “You want to apologize?” she said. When he nodded, she asked, “For what?”

“It is not true what I said before. You are not a foolish woman. This man does care for you.”

This man,
she thought blankly. Was he truly speaking of himself? “You care for me,” she said quietly. She was afraid to hope.

“Yes.”

Her heart rejoiced. “Then—”

“It changes nothing,” he said. “Tomorrow I leave my village, and you return to the mission.”

“Why tell me this then?” she cried, rising to her feet. “I know you're leaving. Why apologize now?”

“I would not have you think bad of me.” He stood. “We are friends.”

She closed her eyes as she sat again. It was a fight not to feel wounded. She didn't want to be friends with Black Hawk; she wanted more. “We are friends,” she repeated. “So that's it.”

When she looked at him again, he hadn't moved. He studied her without expression.

What had happened to the warm, passionate man who had brought her pleasure? The man before her was the Ojibwa war chief. He gave no clue to his thoughts. There was no affection in his gaze.

Rachel felt a sudden burning in her belly. “You don't expect to come home, do you?”

He didn't answer right away. “I cannot promise I will return.”

“You're going to get yourself killed!” She jumped up, grabbed his arm.

“I go to find He-Who-Kills-with-Big-Stick.” He stared briefly at the hand that held him.

“Your father's killer,” she said.

“Yes.” He seemed uncomfortable with the subject. He glanced away, staring off into the night. He pulled from her grasp, moving to put distance between them.

“Tomorrow, Sleeping Bird and Gray Squirrel will take you and your family back to the mission,” he said. “We will release the Sioux. Dan-yel will need help bringing you home.”

Rachel studied him. “Do you think he will come after me? Clouds-at-Morning?”

Black Hawk didn't turn. “I think it wise that we do not take chances. Sleeping Bird and Gray Squirrel will follow Cameron Walters and his men. They will keep watch behind you.”

“You do expect the Sioux to attack!” she accused.

“I do not know this.” Black Hawk gazed at the woman before him, and felt an ache in his chest. He didn't know when he'd be back. If he was successful, then perhaps they would have a chance at a future together. Would she be happy in his village? She seemed to have adjusted well during her stay.

He mustn't think of that now. He couldn't allow her to believe that there was anything more than friendship between them. If he was killed, she needed to go on and live her life.

She'd been innocent when he'd taken her. She could easily have confused pleasure for love. How could he know if she truly loved him?

“We must return,” he said. He started to head back. He heard Rachel follow him, and he waited for her to join him.

They walked in silence until they reached the village clearing. The men sharing the pipe were gone. How long had they been gone? Rachel wondered.

This would be the last time she'd spend with Black Hawk. She halted, touched his arm. “Black Hawk,” she said with longing as she faced him.

She saw him blink. She wanted to hug him, but his expression forestalled her.

“You wish to say something?” he asked.

She gazed at him, striving for the courage to speak her mind. “No,” she murmured, looking away. “Nothing.”

They entered the village and paused before heading to their wigwams. If she didn't say it now, she would never again have the chance.

“Yes,” she told him. “I do have something to say.”

He seemed patient as he waited for her to speak.

“I love you, Black Hawk. I know you don't love me, but I had to say it again.” She reached out and touched his cheek with shaking fingers. He felt warm and very much alive. She trembled with the depth of her feelings for him. “I love you.”

She caressed his jaw, then released him. There was no tenderness in his gaze, no passion ... nothing.

“That's all I had to say,” she said. A lump rose to block her throat. “Good night,” she whispered hoarsely.

He didn't stop her. He didn't speak. She refused to look back as she raised the door flap of Spring Blossom's wigwam and stepped inside.

Black Hawk stood for a long time staring at the wigwam that Rachel had entered. He left when his vision blurred and he realized that she would not reappear.

 

 

Feeling listless and groggy, Rachel rose from her sleeping pallet the next morning. She'd had a terrible night. During the brief intermittent periods she'd actually dozed, she'd dreamt of Black Hawk and relived the happiness and then the pain of loving him. He was gone, and she might never see him again. She agonized about his leaving and about the journey ahead of him.
Please, God, keep him safe.

Today we are going home,
she thought. This would be the last time she ate with the Ojibwa, the last time she'd share the Ojibwa women's daily bathing ritual in the river.

The last occasion to wear Indian dress.
Someone, most probably Spring Blossom, had laid out her old gown and undergarments. With regret, Rachel slipped off her doeskin tunic and laid it on her sleeping pallet. Then, she put on the chemise and pantalets. To her surprise, someone had repaired the torn sleeves of her gown.

Eyeing the tunic longingly, Rachel decided that she didn't care if others thought her a loose woman, she would not wear her corset again. She had enjoyed the freedom of Ojibwa dress too long to want to return to such a restricting garment. Her leather shoes were nowhere in sight. She was apparently to keep the moccasins. She was glad, because they were more comfortable for her feet than her other footwear.

It's not as if there's anyone here who cares about proper social attire,
Rachel thought. Here she didn't have to worry about impressing the society matrons and any beaux. Here she wasn't a wanton just because she enjoyed wearing fewer clothes. She would please herself and wear what she wanted.

The other women were already gone from the wigwam. When Rachel stepped outside, she saw that the Indians were busy at work, roasting and drying their rice harvest. She looked for her sister and father and didn't see them.

Then, she saw her father talking to the soldier, Cameron Walters. There were ten soldiers on horses, all impressive figures in navy and light blue.

Daniel appeared from the wigwam of the chief. He glanced over, saw her, and waved. Rachel lifted a hand in response.

“Rachel!” She turned to find her sister coming up the path from the river. Amelia's damp hair and skin said that her sister had already had her bath. “Good morning.”

“Did you see Father?” Amelia asked.

Rachel gestured toward the group of men. “He's over talking with Sergeant Walters.”

Her sister smiled, then started past her toward the wigwam. Amelia paused and turned back. “All ready to go?”

Rachel nodded. “Are you?”

Amelia shrugged. “It's nice and peaceful here, isn't it? I'm going to miss it.”

“Me, too,” Rachel murmured softly as Amelia continued on her way.

“Rach-el.”

She spun. “Black Hawk! I thought you'd left.” Her pulse raced at the sight of him.

“I will go to the mission with you before I leave.”

Rachel eyed him closely, startled by his decision to escort them. “Why?”

“Because I wish to see my friend home safely.”

“I see.” She didn't really, but she was glad of the extra time with him ... even if she had to share it with her family and a group of men.

Daniel, seeing them, approached. “Are you ready to go?” he asked.

“I'm ready,” Rachel said. “I don't know if Jane and Susie are. I haven't seen them.”

“They've been ready since first light,” Daniel said with a smile. “They've gone for a walk with Jack.” He frowned as he noted her attire. “Do you want to ride?”