He went through the opening, and Cherish knew this was her one chance. Quickly she brought her knee up between her captor’s legs. The heaviness of the blanket and the man’s coat softened the blow and only made him angry. His fist lashed out and connected with her jaw. Lights flashed before her eyes and she knew no more.
CHAPTER
* 21 *
Sloan sat on the buffalo robes that had been placed in a circle around the fire in the Shawnee lodge. John Spotted Elk’s father, Chief Running Elk, passed the ceremonial pipe to Sloan, who drew the sweet tobacco smoke into his mouth before passing the pipe to John. The father, who was greatly loved and respected by his son, was very old. They sat in silence, and soon the old man was nodding sleepily before the fire.
“Why has your brother’s wife returned?” John Spotted Elk asked when his father had at last fallen asleep, his chin resting on what had once been a strong and powerful chest. His son would not have dishonored him by speaking of these things which he did not understand in his presence.
“She says she’s come back for the babe,” Sloan replied slowly.
John Spotted Elk smiled without warmth. “She lies.”
“Yes, I’m afraid so. She has no love for the babe,” Sloan said sadly.
“What will you do, Light Eyes? She wants to be your woman.”
“I know that.”
“You said Morning Sun was your woman.”
“I have not wed her in the white man’s ways.”
John Spotted Elk snorted with disgust. “You’ve taken her to your blanket. Is that not enough?”
“For me it is.”
“And for her?”
“She says she loves me.”
“Send the yellow-haired woman away.”
“If I do that, she’ll take the babe.”
John Spotted Elk looked thoughtful, then said, simply, “I will kill her.”
Sloan looked up quickly. “No, John. That is not my way. I have a plan to send her downriver.”
“It would be easier to kill her, than send her downriver. She is worthless.”
“I’ll give her money and send her to New Orleans. She likes fancy places, and she may go. It will give me time to get a paper saying that I am the child’s guardian.”
John Spotted Elk puffed solemnly on the pipe before speaking. “It would be good for you to get the paper.”
Running Elk’s wife came and draped a robe about the humped back of her sleeping husband. She was fat and her broad face was pleasant. Her hands lingered on the shoulders of the old man. She was Running Elk’s third wife and John’s stepmother. He smiled fondly at her as she moved away.
When they were alone again except for the sleeping man, John laid the pipe down in front of him. His expression was unreadable, but Sloan knew him well enough to know he had something on his mind.
“I have a desire to talk of my sister.”
Sloan nodded and waited.
“It is embarrassing to me, Light Eyes, that she pursues you. Her white blood is strong. She is possessed with the wish to marry a white man—be like a white woman.”
“Your sister is very beautiful,” Sloan said earnestly.
“She is young. She has not yet learned the foolishness of such a wish.”
“If she went to the white man’s village, she would be desired by many white men, but she would not be happy with the white man’s way.”
“I have told her that.”
“Here, she is the daughter of Chief Running Elk and the sister of a great warrior. There she would be just another Indian maid.”
“To be shunned by people of class.”
Sloan ignored the bitterness in his friend’s voice.
“I have given thought to Minnie Dove. I would like her to become friends with Morning Sun.” Sloan used John’s name for Cherish deliberately. His eyes twinkled. “It would be a thing to see.”
John Spotted Elk failed to see humor in the situation.
“It would be best that Morning Sun know that Minnie Dove is . . . determined to have you for her man.”
“We would take care to not leave them alone for a while. I will talk to Morning Sun. I will tell her of Minnie Dove’s desire to wed a white man, and I will ask her to discourage it by teaching your sister the white woman’s ways.”
“I do not understand.”
Sloan chuckled at the puzzled look on his friend’s face.
“I will ask Morning Sun to lace Minnie Dove in a tight corset, put tight shoes on her feet, and make her sit still for hours while her hair is arranged. Above all, she must insist Minnie Dove take a tub bath every day.”
John laughed. “Light Eyes, your way may indeed restore her pride in her Indian blood.”
“She is young enough yet to be molded, my friend,” Sloan said. “She will be what she was meant to be—a beautiful, proud Indian maiden.”
John Spotted Elk smiled broadly, his teeth flashing in the failing light of the fire. He dropped a hand on Sloan’s knee.
“My brother, you bring me hope. Would that I had spoken sooner. But tell me of the woman, Morning Sun. She is fair to look upon.”
Sloan’s face clouded. In a quiet, husky voice he answered: “I first saw her kneeling beside a stream in the woods. I thought she was a vision that I had conjured up from a dream in my head.”
“She is indeed beautiful.”
“The most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Because of my experiences with beautiful women, I would prefer her not to be so fair.”
“You think she will betray you?”
“No. It didn’t take long for me to realize that she was no ordinary beautiful woman, but one with courage, pride and determination. On the trail, I grew . . . fond of her.”
They were quiet then. John Spotted Elk studied his friend’s face in the soft glow of the firelight. His eyes narrowed.
“You are only fond of her?” he asked, so seriously that Sloan glanced curiously at him.
“I am troubled, John. She may very well be my dearest possession, but I want my heart to be free.” Sloan’s eyes filled with sadness. “I don’t want my heart to break if she should leave me. I don’t want my thoughts and dreams and happiness to depend on a slip of a girl. You see how it is, my friend?”
John Spotted Elk leaned back, picked up the pipe and puffed on it, then handed it to Sloan.
“You think of your brother.” His dark eyes met Sloan’s light ones and he held the gaze.
“My brother loved Ada all his life. He lived to be with her even though he knew that she was a selfish, deceitful woman. He believed the babe would change her. When she left him and the babe, it killed him.”
“In my village she would be cast out . . . stoned. Not even a wolverine deserts her cubs,” he added.
They sat quietly and smoked. Sloan’s thoughts were of Cherish and how he missed the sweet intimacy they had shared before Ada arrived. John Spotted Elk broke into his thoughts.
“I would speak to you about Morning Sun.”
Sloan looked at his friend and nodded his head ever so slightly.
“I want you to know that my white blood calls out to her, but I am wiser than my sister. Your woman would not be content with the Indian way, and I would not see her unhappy.”
For some reason unknown to him, Sloan was not surprised. “I am honored that you speak of it to me.”
“She will bring you great joy if you open your heart.”
“You cannot command the heart to open, my friend. It will open when the time is right.”
“I understand.”
“It is good to know that, should I be killed, Morning Sun would have a protector.”
“I would guard her life as if it were my own . . . as I would yours,” John said gravely.
Sloan got to his feet. “It is late. I want to stop by and see Pierre, so I will leave you.” Sloan held out his hand. “I know where there is a salt lick. A deer can be found there if your people need meat.”
John Spotted Elk’s face b
roke into a smile. “We will hunt on the morrow.”
On the way to True’s and Juicy’s cabin, Sloan thought about what John had told him. He was attracted to Cherish, and being the man he was, he had felt duty-bound to tell him. Sloan had sensed his interest when John and Cherish had met. Now he found himself wondering if Cherish might not also be drawn to the tall, handsome Shawnee. His heart gave a queer lurch at the thought.
Life had been difficult for her since Ada’s arrival; nevertheless, Cherish’s rejection of him the night he went to her bunk had hurt. Tonight he would go to her again, he decided, and tell her of his plan for Ada.
The cabin smelled of new wood, sizzling meat, and tobacco smoke. True was whittling, as usual, and Juicy was entertaining Farrway with some wild tale. The boy sat big-eyed in rapt attention. Mister Swanson was grinning, his rough hands working the stiff fibers of a rope he was repairing.
“Mon Dieu, Sloan,” Pierre said weakly. He was cleanshaven and had a fresh haircut. “I am glad to see you. Tell these hide scrapers, I can take no more broth. Meat is what I need. Meat!”
“Tell them yourself.” Sloan laughed. “I’ve not known you to keep your mouth shut when you had something to say.”
Pierre rolled his eyes in disgust and mumbled to himself.
“I jist don’t know about Pierre no more, Sloan,” Juicy said. “He warshed in the summer. I know he did, ’cause I seen it with my own eyes. We had to tote water so he could do it agin. Do ya reckon he’s sparkin’ a gal?”
True snorted. “Ain’t no gal worth her salt have anythin’ to do with a bow-legged Frenchie.”
“Don’t know ’bout it, True.” Juicy scratched his whiskered chin. “He could get out that thar squeeze box and play her a tune. Could even sing her a ditty.”
“Sing? Him? Heard him onc’t. I done thought somebody’s scalded a cat.”
Pierre took the teasing with good grace. He looked younger without the beard, and his eyes were getting some of their old sparkle back.
Sloan grinned. “You’re better off than me, Pierre. You’ve got three old goats and a kid. I’ve got three women and a babe in my cabin.”
Pierre scowled. “One of them is a bitch, Sloan. A she-devil.” His voice shook with anger.
“I know, and I promise you that when Ada leaves it will be without Katherine,” Sloan said firmly.
“Oui, oui, Sloan.” Pierre sank back weakly, plainly relieved by the promise.
“How’s the little purty doin’?” Juicy asked.
“She’s doing all right.”
“She be lookin’ right peaked.” True had a worried look on his face.
“She’s not said anything about being sick,” Sloan said with a frown. “She needs to get out some. I’ll see to it tomorrow.”
True unfolded his long, lanky frame from his chair and motioned to Sloan, who followed him to the back door. Brown lay there with his big head on the floor, his nose to the cold air blowing in under the door.
“I’m afeared Brown here is ailin’. He won’t eat no meat an’ don’t walk no straight line no more either. He kinda staggers like. I be thinkin’ that thar Injin arrow did somethin’ to his head.”
Kneeling beside the dog, Sloan felt a stab of fear. Brown had been with him a long time, had saved his life more than once, had led him and Cherish through the blizzard to the cabin and safety.
“Did he go out at all today?”
“Onc’t ta do his needs. Wanted back in.”
“What can we do, True?”
“Wal, I figur’ ta wait till mornin’ an’ see. Hit could be thar’s nothin’ we can do. Could be pus from the sore is pressin’ on his brains. I ain’t knowin’ ’bout splittin’ his head ta let it out.” He shook his head. They all had a fondness for the big brown dog. “We best not do nothin’ yet.”
It was dark when Sloan left the cabin. The wind had come up and was swirling the light snow on the ground. It had started to drift into piles, and he kicked his way through it thinking that trouble came in bunches. God, he would miss that dog! First thing in the morning, he would get John over to take a look at him. If True was right, well, he didn’t know if anything could be done; but if there was a way to help, John would know about it.
Sloan was jarred from his thoughts. Over the sound of the wind he heard a babe crying. He frowned. Was Orah Delle sick? The child’s plaintive wails were loud and continuous. He quickened his steps and then broke into a running walk. He couldn’t remember the babe ever crying in such an agonized way except for the time she’d had the earache. True had eased the pain by blowing his warm breath in her ear.
Alarmed now, Sloan hurried to the cabin and pushed open the door.
Ada was sitting by the fire, her hands over her ears. Katherine was walking the floor with the crying child in her arms. Sloan took off his coat and reached for the babe. Orah Delle cuddled against him, her small arms around his neck. He talked softly to her. Her crying stopped and she lay hiccuping, her tearful little face pressed to his neck.
“Ma . . . ma. Ma . . . ma.”
“Thank God!” Ada got up from the chair. “My head is splitting from listening to that child bawl. I must say, Sloan, your little nursemaid has a nerve to leave us with a crying child all afternoon. I wanted to have my hair washed, but Kat has been walking the floor with that bawling infant, and even that wouldn’t shut her up.”
“Where is Cherish?” A cold circle of fear was forming around Sloan’s heart.
“How should I know?” Ada said angrily.
“Where is she?” Sloan demanded.
“Probably in the barn, rolling in the hay with John Spotted Elk, or out in the woods with some other Indian. Who knows what a whore—”
“Shut up!” Sloan shouted. His loud voice scared the baby. Orah Delle hiccuped and began to cry again.
“Ma . . . ma. Ma . . . ma.”
“Now, now, baby. Mama will come,” he crooned and patted her back. “Katherine, where is Cherish?” He tried to speak calmly in order not to alarm the child.
Katherine looked at Ada before she answered. Ada lifted her arms in a gesture of resignation.
“She put the baby to sleep right after the noon meal, sir. She came to the bedroom door and said she was going outside. That’s all I know.”
“Was that all she said?” Sloan’s anxiety showed in his voice.
“She asked me to watch the baby. Ah . . . she had wraps on, sir.”
Sloan looked at the clock and paced back and forth for a moment. His mind tried desperately to grapple with what Katherine had told him. Orah Delle, exhausted from crying so long, had fallen asleep. He carried her to the bedroom, placed her in her crib and tucked the covers about her. Returning, he picked up his coat and jerked it on.
“Katherine, watch that the babe doesn’t kick off her covers. I didn’t put her in her sleeping bag.”
“For heaven’s sake, Sloan,” Ada said impatiently. “You’re not running out to look for that little baggage? I warn you. You may not like what you find!”
“What do you mean by that?” he demanded.
“You’re not the only handsome man in this settlement. Anyway . . . it’s just what she wants—you to come looking for her.”
“Goddammit, Ada!”
“Don’t shout at me . . . honey,” Ada said, and sniffed prettily. “You know it scares me when you shout.”
“Shitfire! Stop play-acting. Cherish has been gone for more than four hours. Can’t you get it through your thick, stupid head that she would never go and leave the baby for that long?” Sloan shoved his fur cap down on his head and took his rifle from the pegs.
“Sloan, honey . . . don’t go—” Ada came to him and tried to put her arms around him.
“Get away from me,” he snarled, shoving her aside and rushing out the door.
A half-hour later the settlement had been thoroughly searched. Sloan, True, Juicy, Mister Swanson, John Spotted Elk and four of his braves had gone over every foot of ground in and immediately around
it.
The men were gathered in front of the cabin to decide what to do next when Sloan remembered something. He had milked the cow that morning thinking to relieve True of the chore, and besides, he had been up earlier than usual. At the time he had noticed a smell in the barn that he hadn’t been able to identify. With more pressing problems on his mind, he had dismissed it.
“Who searched the barn?”
“She ain’t thar, Sloan,” Juicy said. “I looked in ever’ crack an’ cranny.”
“Did you notice a different smell while you were there?”
“Can’t say as I did.”
“Animal smell?” John asked suddenly.
“I don’t know, John. I don’t think it was that or the cow would’ve been nervous. Could have been my imagination.”
The Indian waited until Sloan finished speaking, then took off at a trot for the barn. Sloan and the men followed.
Sloan held a torch while John Spotted Elk examined the hay scattered about the floor of the building. He sniffed until he found the place where the two men had hidden themselves when Sloan had gone in to milk the cow. Carefully reading the signs, his sharp eyes missing nothing, John plucked a thread from a rough board by the shuttered rear window.
Outside, circling the barn on his hands and knees, John found traces of track, although the wind had swept the area clean of snow. Abruptly, he got to his feet and trotted into the woods. Sloan waited anxiously. In a minute or two John was back.
“Two men have taken Morning Sun. One man carries her. We must go.”
Sloan turned to True and Juicy. “Get the babe and take her to your cabin. Keep her with you until I return. Take Katherine, if she’ll go. Ada will be difficult, but pay her no mind. And True, do you think Brown is up to tracking?”
True shook his head. “He be bad off.”
Sloan looked down at his feet. “Do what you can for him.”
“Ya ain’t to be worryin’. We take keer of the babe,” Juicy said grimly.
John Spotted Elk spoke to his braves. One of them removed the tomahawk from his belt and handed it to Sloan, then trotted back with the others toward the Shawnee lodge.
Love and Cherish Page 20
