Wild Embrace

by Cassie Edwards

  Breathless, and aghast at what the handsome Indian had done, Elizabeth pushed at his chest. “Let me go,” she cried. “What on earth do you think you’re doing?”

  Strong Heart didn’t set her to her feet right away. Instead, he stood there and stared at her face. Elizabeth swallowed hard, wondering if he was going to carry her away, and hold her captive, perhaps even for ransom.

  And then suddenly Strong Heart released her and fled into the deep shadows of the forest.

  Elizabeth was breathless from the experience, in wonder at this Indian who had appeared out of nowhere, and who had left just as quickly and mysteriously.

  And it was obvious that he had meant her no harm. He had actually carried her from the house. Had he thought that it was on fire, she wondered? Had he thought that he was saving her?

  She wanted to run after him and demand that he tell her why he was there, and why he had felt the need to rush away so quickly.

  But she did not have the opportunity. Her father was suddenly there, winded from running.

  “Good Lord, Elizabeth,” Earl said, gasping for breath. “I saw the smoke. I thought . . . I thought—”

  “No, Father, the house isn’t on fire,” Elizabeth said, interrupting him. “I’m sure it’s just a faulty flue. I imagine a bird’s nest. I wouldn’t be surprised if all of the flues aren’t the same.” She laughed softly. “Imagine how Frannie will be fussing over the damage the smoke has done to the parlor.”

  “To hell with the parlor,” Earl said, wiping beads of sweat from his brow. “Just as long as you’re all right.”

  “I assure you I am just fine,” Elizabeth said. Her heart was pounding recklessly within her chest, but not from danger. It pounded from the excitement of having been with the Indian, even if for only a few moments.

  “I’m damn glad that everything is okay,” Earl said.

  Then he shifted his feet nervously, his eyes not meeting hers. “Baby, I . . . uh . . . was coming to the house for another reason,” he said with a stammer. “I’ve got several dependable men working on the fishery. I feel that I can leave for a spell without being here to oversee every nail pounded into wood . . .”

  Before he could finish, a stocky man, with brindled sidewhiskers, sporting huge pistols holstered at each hip, came and stood beside Earl.

  Earl swung an arm around the man’s hefty shoulder. “Elizabeth, this is Morris Murdoch. You know. I’ve talked about him often enough. He’s my partner in the fishery venture,” he said, a smug smile across his face. He nodded at Morris. “Morris, this is my daughter, Elizabeth. Isn’t she everything I bragged about?”

  “And even more than that,” Morris said in a flat drawl. He cocked his wide-brimmed hat aggressively at Elizabeth, then reached out to shake hands with her. “Pleased to meet you, Ma’am.”

  Elizabeth stared down at Morris Murdoch’s huge pistols, stiffened, then looked up at him as she reluctantly shook his hand. When he released it, she wiped her palm on the skirt of her dress. Morris’s hand had been so clammy and cold.

  She nodded at him, not wanting to say that she was pleased to meet him, for, in truth, she wasn’t. She had heard her father speak often of Morris Murdoch, ever since her father had chosen Seattle for his fishery.

  But this was the first time she had met him and she could not help but take an instant dislike to him. A tall man, surely over six feet in height, he had eyes of a peculiar shade of blue that glinted menacingly down at her.

  She could not help but equate such eyes with those of a killer. Then she shrugged off such a thought. She knew her father would not align himself with a man of questionable reputation.

  “Elizabeth, what I was saying, is that I’m too eager to wait any longer before going to speak to the Indians,” Earl said, interrupting her wary thoughts. “Morris and I are going to leave now, to talk business with the Indians—salmon business.”

  Elizabeth gasped at the news as she turned her eyes back to her father. First he had dumped her on these faraway shores, and now he was going to travel to unknown territories, leaving her alone, waiting to see if he returned alive or dead.

  She feared that he might not return one day from his reckless adventures. This could be the time, the worst time of all for her to be left without a father. Without a protector.

  But she was silent. She had said all that was possible that could be said to such a father. She would have to wait again to see what fate handed him—and in turn, her.

  She watched disbelievingly as Everett, their black groom, brought two saddled horses to the outside of the fence, dutifully holding them by the reins at the gate. Bulging saddlebags were on each of the horses. Her father was leaving her so soon, and she knew that he planned to be gone for several days and nights.

  An emptiness filled her, the same feeling that she had always felt at her father’s departure on his lengthy journeys.

  Earl turned and followed Elizabeth’s stare, then smiled when he saw the readied horses. “Ah, I see that my orders have been promptly followed,” he said, glancing over at Morris. “Are you ready to ride, Morris?”

  “Anytime,” Morris said, his voice a silken, lazy drawl which rankled Elizabeth’s nerves.

  Earl turned back to Elizabeth and took her hand in his. “Baby, please understand why I must leave,” he said. Elizabeth recognized the words he always spoke before heading out on an adventure. “It’s business, Elizabeth. Business.”

  He cleared his throat nervously when he saw her set jaw and her eyes fill with defiance.

  “I’ll be gone for several days,” he said, releasing her hand, not wanting to feel her reaction when he gave her a particular order that he knew that she would resent. “Elizabeth, I don’t want you leaving the premises under any circumstances while I am gone, unless escorted by one of the servants. Do you hear?”

  Elizabeth tilted her chin stubbornly, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of agreeing to anything he asked of her at this moment.

  And what did it matter to him, anyway, she wondered. Surely if something happened to her he would be better off. He would be free to do as he damn well pleased without having to offer awkward apologies or explanations to anyone.

  She knew that she should have told him about having seen the two Indians, but she was glad now that she hadn’t. She had something of her own that she could keep from her father. The secret about the Indians.

  No. She would not tell him anything. He didn’t deserve knowing her secrets—intriguing secrets that she could fill her lonely hours with. She would search for both Indians, to see why they were on the property that was now owned by her father. Although she knew that she might be placing herself in danger, she felt an excitement that she had never felt before at the thought of seeing the handsome Indian again.

  “I understand your silence,” Earl said. He looked with wavering eyes at his daughter for a moment longer, then spun around and walked hurriedly to the horses.

  Flicking a tear from the corner of her eye with a finger, Elizabeth watched her father and Morris ride away on their horses. She watched them until they were no longer in sight. Then she looked with interest at the dark, silent forest. She quickly decided that this was the perfect opportunity to go exploring, hoping to find clues as to where the Indians had come from, and why—especially the young Indian.

  Frannie came lumbering from the house, coughing and wiping at her dark eyes. “There you is,” she said, moving to Elizabeth’s side. “Lordy, lordy, I neva’ thought I’d eva’ get that room cleared of smoke. That fireplace needs a cleanin’ bad. Don’t neva’ lights a fire in it again, honey, until we sees that it’s cleaned first.”

  Elizabeth laughed softly. “I don’t think you have to worry about that,” she said, again studying the forest. The chill of the morning breeze caused goosebumps to rise on her flesh, as well as the apprehension she felt at wandering alone where she knew that she shouldn’t. She shivered.

  Frannie placed a chubby hand on Elizabeth’s arm. “Come bac
k inside the house,” she said, trying to move Elizabeth along. She tilted a heavy, gray eyebrow up at Elizabeth when she refused to budge. “Elizabeth, honey. You come in the house. You gonna catch a chill standing out here without a wrap.”

  “I’m fine,” Elizabeth said, easing from Frannie’s grip. She gazed down at her sweet and caring friend. “I’m going exploring, Frannie. This is my new home—one that has been forced upon me, so it is my decision to acquaint myself with it and the grounds that surround it. I can’t be expected to sit in that dreadful house every day and night, rotting away doing nothing.”

  “You ain’t goin’ nowheres,” Frannie fussed, again grabbing Elizabeth’s arm, “’cept in the house with me, where you belongs.”

  Elizabeth detached her hand again. “Frannie, I’m not going inside the house until I’m good and ready,” she said stubbornly. “I’m going exploring. That’s final!”

  “It ain’t safe,” Frannie grumbled. “It just ain’t safe for a young lady to be wanderin’ alone away from home. If you insist on goin’, then ol’ Frannie goes with you.”

  “No, Frannie, you’re not,” Elizabeth argued, her patience running thin. “But you can go and fetch my shawl. It’s apt to be much colder in the forest than here. I would prefer my wrap, if you please.”

  “If you please,” Frannie echoed, angrily folding her arms across her thick bosom. “If you do as I please, you’ll stay here with me and not out there where Indians can take your pretty hair from your scalp.”

  Elizabeth paled somewhat at these words, having read many novels in which Indian scalpings had been described in gory detail. But all that she had to do was remember the handsome Indian, and his gentle arms and eyes, to know that she surely had nothing to fear from him.

  Especially being scalped!

  “I’ll get my wrap myself,” Elizabeth said, wanting to end this debate with Frannie.

  “There ain’t no need in that,” Frannie said, sighing resignedly. “I’ll fetch it. But mark my word, Elizabeth, if you don’t get back home when I’m expectin’ you to, I’se comin’ after you. Does you understand?”

  Elizabeth placed a gentle hand to Frannie’s fleshy cheek. “Yes, I understand,” she said, filled with much love and gratitude for this woman who had become a substitute mother to her. “I’ll try not to stay long. I don’t want to worry you.”

  “Huh! If you don’t want to worry me none, you stay home with me,” Frannie said, then shook her head and marched inside the house for the shawl. When she saw the stubbornness in Elizabeth’s eyes, she knew that it was useless to argue with her. She had never seen anyone as stubborn as Elizabeth, except perhaps Elizabeth’s mother. Now that was one redheaded stubborn woman who knew her mind better than she should have. She had walked away from her daughter because of her stubbornnesses.

  Frannie took the shawl back outside to Elizabeth and devotedly placed it around her shoulders. She then watched with a heavy heart as Elizabeth began making her way through the brambles that stretched out across the lawn to the grotesque fence. She watched Elizabeth until she was out of sight. Then she moved back inside the house, unable to shake a feeling of doom that seemed to have suddenly come over her. She wanted to run after Elizabeth and beg her to return to the safety of the house, yet she knew that would be a futile attempt.

  Frannie had to accept that although Elizabeth loved her, the child had her own mind and would do as she wanted, for, in truth, Frannie was only Elizabeth’s maid, not her keeper.

  * * *

  Holding her shawl securely around her shoulders, Elizabeth moved into the deeper gloom of the forest, where the musty aroma of rotted leaves arose to her nose, stinging the tender flesh of her nostrils. She looked guardedly from side to side, everything too eerily quiet, as if she had stepped into a tomb. Except for herself, there seemed to be no life in this section of the forest. No birds sang and no squirrels scampered about collecting acorns for the long, cold winter vigil that was just ahead. She felt as if she might be intruding on some deep, dark secret, and that the trees surrounding her resented her presence.

  She saw a break in the trees up ahead, which could mean that she had reached the Sound. Welcoming anything besides what she had found so far in her explorations, Elizabeth hurried her pace. As the sunshine began spiraling more vividly through the umbrella of trees overhead, and she could see even more light just up ahead, she began softly running toward the opening.

  But when she finally reached the cleared land, where the sun drenched its warmth on all sides of her, what Elizabeth saw made her heart leap into her throat, and her mouth go dry. She stopped and stared at the many posts that had been driven into the ground, skulls topping each one of them, their eye sockets all facing her, as if looking at her accusingly.

  Finding the courage to move again, Elizabeth edged her way around the skull-crowned posts, her heart pounding.

  As she circled the hideous sight, she was able to think more clearly. She guessed that she had just found the graveyard of some Indians—burial grounds she may have desecrated by her intrusion. Burial grounds that were much, much too close to her house for comfort.

  Breathing harshly, Elizabeth turned and fled onward, toward the welcome sight of a grass-covered bluff that overlooked the Sound. When she arrived there, she tried to blot the horrible sight of the skulls from her mind by looking at the beauty of the view.

  She stepped closer to the edge of the bluff, gazing down at the thundering surf. But there was something foreboding in the rhythm of the waves and their steady splashing seemed for a moment to mesmerize, then disorient her. She found herself weaving, feeling as if she were going to fall. Then she cried out with alarm when she felt strong hands on her waist, stopping her.

  When those powerful hands drew Elizabeth away from the edge of the bluff and turned her around, she was stunned to find herself again looking up into the steelgray eyes of the handsome Indian. Although she knew that she should be wary of him, a stranger—she could not deny that being near him again made her heart take on a crazy, erratic beating.

  His hands on her waist were like fire, scorching her clothing, burning her flesh.

  Elizabeth shivered from the boldness of his hold. Then she found the strength to speak to him. “Thank you for stopping my fall,” she murmured. She glanced down at his hands which still held her, then looked up at him. “You can let me go. I’m . . . I’m safe enough now. I’ve regained my balance.”

  “Your husband is pel-ton, foolish, to allow you to move about alone on land that is not familiar to you,” Strong Heart finally said, scowling down at her from his tall height. “Does your husband not know about the bandit gangs and warrior bands that are known to roam the forests and the unguarded valleys? These men stop at nothing to get their pleasures and lusts fulfilled.”

  Elizabeth cast her eyes downward, her face coloring with a hot blush.

  Then she boldly lifted her chin and met his steady stare with one of her own. “I’ll have you know that I answer to no husband, because I have none. And under normal circumstances I am capable of taking care of myself,” she blurted. “Furthermore, I have the right to wander on property that is owned by my father. Why are you here? Do you make it a habit to trespass, to go where you do not belong?”

  When he did not answer her, she saw anger in his eyes, which changed quickly to pain. She wished that she could erase all that she had just said. Again she reminded herself that this land had once belonged solely to the Indians. This man’s very ancestors might have lived here.

  In truth, she was the intruder. In truth, all white people were the intruders.

  “I’m sorry for being so abrupt . . . so thoughtless.” she said in a rush of words. “Please allow me to once more thank you for being so caring that you would rescue me twice in one day.”

  Strong Heart was surprised that the white woman had apologized for having spoken harshly to him. She seemed to be a lady with compassion.

  And he could not deny that he was glad that she
was not married. Although he saw her as an interloper on what was once his people’s land, he could not stop his eyes from devouring her loveliness.

  Her luminous green eyes stirred feelings within him that he had willed himself to ignore when in the presence of women whose beauty captivated him. His goal in life was to prepare himself to be a great chief, like his father. A commitment to one woman had been the last thing on Strong Heart’s mind.

  It still was, yet the longer he was with this intriguing woman, the more he felt his reserve weakening.

  Then he remembered the reason he had come to the bluff. It had been to watch the white men who had gone to the house to check on the smoke. When they had left on horseback, he feared they had gone after him. Surely this woman had told them about him. Yet they had traveled away from the mansion and the Sound, as if not in search of him but something else.

  “Did you tell those two men that I was at the house?” he asked quickly.

  “No, I did not see the need,” Elizabeth said slowly, not sure if she should trust him enough to be this truthful with him. She still did not know his intentions. She feared to ask him.

  What if he was there scouting the place, to take back the news to his people that there were white people who should be slaughtered and a house to be burned?

  What if she was falling into a trap by innocently befriending him?

  Her father had always told her that she was the sort who trusted too easily.

  At this, Strong Heart arched an eyebrow, again surprised by her. “Why did you not see the need?” he asked, watching her expression. “Did you not see me as the enemy?”

  “How could I see you as the enemy when only a short while ago you thought you were saving me from a house that was on fire. And now? To have rescued me from a fall?” she offered quietly. She swallowed hard. “As for why I did not tell my father, I . . . I . . . am not quite sure, myself.”

  Frannie’s voice reached up to the bluff and broke the spell that had captured Elizabeth and Strong Heart, causing Elizabeth to jump. She turned away from Strong Heart to peer down at the old house whose roof towered high above the treetops, knowing that it was best that Frannie didn’t see this new Indian. She had been too upset over the other Indian the night before.