Savage Abandon

by Cassie Edwards

  “Because he was the sort of man who enjoyed causing other people pain, and losing my bird hurt me very much,” Mia murmured.

  Her heart was thumping hard inside her chest over the way Wolf Hawk had touched her face so gently, so lovingly.

  Everything within her cried out to be held tenderly in his arms. She wanted him never to let her go, for she feared what lay ahead of her; she feared being totally alone in the world.

  “Our search for this man was unsuccessful,” Wolf Hawk said thickly. “He is so small, he could find a lot of places to hide where no one would see him.”

  “He will probably flag down someone traveling by on the river and go on his way, and I say good riddance to bad rubbish,” Mia said sourly.

  “What is this saying…good riddance to bad rubbish…?” Wolf Hawk asked, raising his eyebrows.

  Mia laughed softly at his question. “It is a way of saying that I am glad Tiny is gone and I hope I never see him again.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  I have heard of thorns and briers,

  Over the meadow and stiles,

  Over the world to the end of it,

  Flash for a million mile—

  —Alfred, Lord Tennyson

  Breathless with fear, Tiny scrambled back through the gates of the fort. He couldn’t believe that he had successfully eluded the redskin savages, but he had, by climbing high into a tree and crouching amid the thick foliage.

  Even if the warriors had looked up and tried to peer through the leaves, they couldn’t have seen him. He had clung to the tree while the Indians rode past below him.

  He smiled at his cleverness. He had often hidden in a tree when he and his three brothers and one sister had played games of hide-and-seek. No one could find him until they finally learned that he would always use that trick.

  Once he had been found out, the game was over for him. He had never successfully hidden himself again.

  That was when he learned tricks with cards, for that was another way to best his brothers and sister. He never wanted to lose at anything. He had become so skilled at cards that he won much money after leaving home and becoming a successful gambler.

  But even in that he was discovered and almost lost his life one night at a tavern after cheating a burly, unkempt man out of all of his money.

  The man had held Tiny upside down by his heels, shaking the money he had wrongly won from his breeches pocket. After that Tiny was careful whom he gambled with. The itch was too strong to ever quit completely!

  With dusk quickly shadowing everything around Tiny, he hurried inside the cabin where he had stayed with Mia and her father. He felt safe inside the fort now, at least for awhile. He doubted the Indians would return.

  He had seen the mound of earth beneath the trees outside of the fort’s walls. Harry’s grave. Yep, that was where Harry lay, unable to order Tiny around any longer.

  “You earned what you got,” Tiny said, snickering. He looked around him. He was glad to have a decent enough place to stay until tomorrow, when he would get as far from this danged place as possible.

  He went to the supplies that Mia had left behind. He found some crusty bread. He smiled when he saw the jar of strawberry jam that Mia’s mother had made back in St. Louis.

  He unscrewed the lid and poked a finger into it, dug some jam out with his finger, and spread it quickly across the bread even though the edges were moldy.

  His belly ached from hunger.

  He had to get as much nourishment as he could, for he had no idea when he might be able to eat again.

  He was hoping to find a boat that would take him to St. Louis. He had cousins there. They would take him in.

  The problem was that he had not seen hide nor hair of anyone on the river since several days ago. If no one came along in the morning, he would have to start walking, hoping to find the home of some settler who might offer him a comfortable night’s lodging and decent food.

  Then he’d ask for help getting to a town, and he’d find his way on to good ol’ Saint Louie, his-self!

  Enjoying the strawberry taste of the jam as long as he could, Tiny stepped from the cabin and gazed toward the opened gate of the fort. He knew that he didn’t have much more time before it got dark. At dawn tomorrow he’d leave this place once and for all.

  He started to close the gate, to keep undesirable critters from coming inside, but then he realized that the Indians might notice that the position of the gate had changed.

  “Best leave it be,” he whispered to himself.

  He went back inside the cabin.

  He stopped and eyed that door.

  It had been left ajar, too, so he decided not to close it completely, either.

  “I guess I’ll have to sleep tonight chancing that some wild thing might come along and mosey inside with me,” he mumbled to himself.

  He knew, though, that he would rather take that risk than possibly alert Indians to his presence.

  The cabin was growing chilly as darkness dropped around it. He turned and eyed the fireplace and the wood that was stacked beside it. Oh, how he would love the warmth of that fire through the night. Yet again, he had to out think the savages and knew that smoke would draw them there.

  He saw blankets lying on the floor where Harry had spent the night. He shuddered at resting in a place where a dead man had slept.

  But Harry hadn’t died in those blankets.

  So tired he could hardly keep his eyes open any longer, he lay down on the blankets, but sleep eluded him as the moon sent its light down through a window and onto his face.

  “If it ain’t one thing, it’s another,” he growled.

  He yanked his cards out of his rear breeches pocket, finding it strange that they were all he had left of his worldly possessions.

  He shuffled them, dealt himself a hand of poker, then dealt another to a pretend person in front of him. He played both hands, snickering when, of course, he was the winner again.

  “I can’t even beat myself,” he said, laughing throatily.

  He slid the cards aside on the floor, then yawning, he stretched out again on the blankets. Feeling cold, he yanked one of the blankets from beneath him and pulled it snugly around himself.

  He fell into a restless sleep and was awakened suddenly in the night by something sniffing at his face. When he opened his eyes, he stiffened with intense fear when he found a wolf there, gazing at him directly in the eyes.

  Tiny let out a loud shriek, which startled the wolf. Tiny watched it make a wide, quick turn and run from the cabin.

  “Well, that’s enough of that,” he whispered to himself. “I’m gettin’ outta here while the gettin’ is good.”

  But he would never forget coming eye to eye with a wolf and livin’ to eventually tell someone about it.

  He gathered up his cards, stuffed them in his rear pocket, and ran from the cabin. He fled the fort, and kept running, hoping the wolf wasn’t following his scent.

  Tiny stumbled through the forest, not realizing that he was going farther and farther from the river.

  Suddenly he tripped and fell hard to the ground.

  He was unaware of his cards flying from his pocket, or the wind taking them up and blowing each in a different direction.

  Chapter Sixteen

  In life we share a single guilt,

  In death we will share a single coffin.

  —Tao-Sheng

  The mournful sounds of people wailing, of flutes and drums being played, filled the village of the Bird Clan.

  Wolf Hawk had come to Mia at daybreak and awakened her. He had carried a tray of fruits and meats, and she’d been surprised that he would awaken her so early to eat the morning meal.

  But moments later she understood.

  He had told her that today his people would hold the burial rites for the two fallen braves. He had said that he would be gone for most of the day, joining the rites.

  He also had told her that no warrior would be standing outside her appoin
ted lodge, for all the people of his village would be participating.

  He had told her that he trusted her not to flee now that she knew she was in no danger of being harmed while she was among his people. Oddly enough he had not asked her to promise not to escape.

  She hated the idea of leaving after looking into his midnight-dark eyes. There was not only trust in them, but also caring.

  She did not know how it could be happening, but she, too, cared for him. It was his voice, his manner, his magical way of just being who he was, so handsome and intriguing, that had awoken these feelings that she had never felt for a man before.

  And she no longer blamed him for her father’s death. She knew that her father had been living on borrowed time. His heart had been steadily weakening all during their trip.

  “Oh, Papa, I miss you so,” Mia sobbed out, feeling an emptiness inside at the thought of never seeing him or being held by him again.

  All that she had ever known was gone now.

  It was only herself, and…

  No. She should not put Wolf Hawk into the category of someone who was now a part of her world, for she knew that he would soon set her free to go on her way, to find her way alone in the world. She should not put aside her plans for him.

  Wolf Hawk was just someone taking a role in her life for a short while, and then, he, too, would be in her past. Although they both obviously had feelings for each other, he was a proud chief, and he would surely not make a white woman a permanent part of his world.

  “What am I to do?” Mia said, standing and pacing.

  She had eaten and felt comfortably full.

  The morning air was now warm and pleasant as it wafted through the opened entrance flap, which she had brushed aside.

  There was a soft fire in the fire pit, which she planned to let burn itself out. The sun was shining so bright today, she believed it was going to be one of the warmer days of spring.

  “A good day to flee…” she found herself whispering.

  She stepped to the entranceway and gazed out. She saw no one. The pro cession of Wolf Hawk’s people had left the village, and must have reached their burial grounds with the two fallen youths.

  She had seen them being carried on two travois behind powerfully muscled horses. The bodies had been wrapped in blankets so that their faces were not visible.

  But their belongings lay on each side of them, with some hanging from thin poles that had been attached to the travois. There was a drum, a pair of moccasins, and several feathers tied in a bundle.

  There were more things, but she had felt they were too sad to look at. She imagined those things were to be buried with the boys. Probably they were the braves’ most precious possessions.

  She choked on a sob to think of her father all alone beneath that mound of dirt. She had not even thought to bury something of his with him, as these Indians were doing.

  But his most precious possession had been his pipe, and that now lay at the bottom of the river.

  “I should have buried his book of poetry with him,” she whispered, gazing at it where it lay with her mother’s Bible.

  She would have to leave them and all her other belongings behind, for she would have to move with speed, and could not carry anything that would slow her down.

  She knew that once the burial rites were over, Wolf Hawk would come to the lodge and find her gone. She wondered how angry he would be.

  Or would he be hurt? Would he feel that she had betrayed his trust?

  “No matter which, I must go,” she said aloud, her decision suddenly final.

  Yes, she trusted Wolf Hawk never to harm her, but she was not so sure about the other members of the village. They did not feel the same kindness toward her that Wolf Hawk felt.

  She was afraid that as soon as the burial of the two fallen youths was over, these people would center their attention on her. They would hold her to blame for the boys’ deaths.

  She had no choice but to leave.

  Her heart pounding, she slowly crept from the large tepee. She looked from side to side to see if Wolf Hawk had told the truth about her being left unguarded, and found that it was so.

  She saw no one, though she could still hear the flute and drums and wailing, which now came from somewhere deep in the forest. She would have to make certain to go in the opposite direction from those sounds.

  She gazed at her travel bag, in which were all of her belongings. She hated leaving them behind, but anything she would carry would burden her down too much.

  She would have to depend on the goodness of others once she got away from the village. She would search for a settler’s home where she might take shelter.

  If she didn’t find a home, then she would have to make her way back to the river and hope that someone would come along and take her with them.

  One way or another she would find a way back to St. Louis where her parents’ home stood silent, cold and empty.

  Her pulse racing, her face flushed, her hair tied back into a ponytail to keep it from getting in her way, she ran around to the back of the large tepee, then sped on into the darkest shadows of the forest.

  She made certain she did not go toward that part of the forest where the burial rites were being held. She had watched which way the people had gone, and she felt safe that she would not be seen.

  The part of her that was enamored with Wolf Hawk ached, for she hated the thought that she would never see him or hear his voice again.

  She had loved his gentleness toward her. But he would not be gentle now, not when she had betrayed his trust, throwing away any chance of getting to know Wolf Hawk better.

  She grew breathless as she ran onward through the dense forest.

  She felt a deep sadness when she heard the songs of the birds floating like beautiful silk through the air, reminding her of her lost canary.

  Georgina.

  Oh, where was her sweet Georgina? Mia doubted that Georgina was still alive and that hurt her deeply and made her hate Tiny. She hoped she would never see that man again.

  She tried to focus on something besides her anger toward Tiny, her loneliness without her family and her bird. Instead, she concentrated on the beauty of her surroundings.

  She could smell the wondrous scent of wild roses coming from somewhere in amongst the trees.

  Oft times she had seen them climbing up the trunks of trees when her father had stopped the scow for their nightly layovers. She had picked a bouquet for her mother more than once.

  Her mother had loved lily of the valley, too, which Mia could also smell though she could not see the tiny plant with its even tinier white flowers.

  Its sweet fragrance reminded her so much of her mother. She had seen her mother pluck these flowers and put several in her hair, laughing softly as she said she wore a crown, and wasn’t it ever so beautiful and sweet?

  Mia also saw clover dotting the forest floor and recalled how her mother had made her a chain bracelet of them.

  It was the simple things she remembered her mother doing that made Mia miss her so terribly.

  As she fled farther and farther into the forest, Mia no longer heard the wailing or the flute or drums. She must have traveled far from the Winnebago village. That meant she was also far from the man she would never forget…his gentleness, his caring, his eyes.

  Oh, how his eyes sent her heart into a spin.

  How could she have left, knowing she would never experience such feelings again?

  There could be no one else like him, and yet she had left Wolf Hawk, never to marvel over his sweet kindness again.

  She raised her chin and made herself stop thinking what she knew was wrong.

  She had to find a way to fend for herself in this heartless, lonely world. And she would.

  Her papa had taught her to stand up for herself. She would not let him down.

  Suddenly she stopped. Her eyes filled with dismay.

  While she was thinking so hard about other things, she had not watche
d where she was going. She had walked right into the middle of thick poison ivy vines. The leaves were even up the inside of her skirt, touching the bare flesh of her legs.

  She already felt her skin itch, for she had learned long ago that she got poison ivy immediately and became very ill from it before getting better.

  She had had such a severe reaction at times that she had thought she might die.

  “Oh, Lord, what have I done?” she cried as she looked around herself.

  The vines were everywhere. They were climbing up the trunks of the trees, overpowering everything within reach.

  They covered the ground so thickly, there was no way she could get free of the tangle without the leaves touching the skin of her legs over and over again.

  Mia now realized how wrong she had been to flee the Indian village. She was without protection of any kind out here in the wild.

  What if she grew as ill from the poison ivy this time as she had the last, and she was all alone, with no one to care for her?

  “I must go back,” she whispered, as tears spilled from her eyes. “I must!”

  She truly had no choice.

  She cringed with each step she took as the shiny, three-pointed leaves brushed against her skin. Her legs were already itching and hurting her.

  When she got poison ivy, it was not just a few bumps on her flesh. In the past her legs had swollen to double their normal size.

  Breaking into a wet sweat all over her body, Mia began to run. Half an hour later, she was never so glad to see anything as when she spotted tepees through a break in the trees a short distance away.

  Suddenly she stopped. Up ahead, near the first of the tepees of the village, she saw a strange mist moving toward the dwellings.

  She gasped and felt faint when she saw the mist coalesce and take on the form of Wolf Hawk, who now ran on toward his own lodge, which was set some distance from the other tepees.

  “What does it mean?” Mia whispered to herself, shaken by what she had seen. How could the young chief have materialized from the hazy mist?

  She was glad that he had not seen her, for she was well hidden in the dark shadows of the forest. She felt it was best that he wasn’t aware of what she had seen.