Wild Embrace

by Cassie Edwards

  He paused, then added, “I must see to my people’s burials, then go and try to find the ones responsible for the raid and deaths. Then I must help prepare my people for the salmon harvest.”

  Elizabeth was reminded of her father, and what he had planned for the salmon run. She suddenly felt protective of Strong Heart and his people, not wanting her father to come here with his hopes for his fishery! These people had already suffered enough at the hands of intruders.

  “I would like to stay and help you in any way that I can,” Elizabeth reasoned. “There are many ways that I could help. And, darling, must I remind you that if I do return home, it would be as you had earlier worried—the sheriff could come to me and question me about what had happened. He would order me to describe the man who had knocked him unconscious. The sheriff surely knows that I had to have seen you. And how could I explain my absence—where I have been since then? And with whom?”

  The memory of the hanging platform was embedded in her mind. She must, at all costs, make sure that Strong Heart was never accused of any crime. She knew that the hangman’s noose was always ready for the neck of an Indian, no matter if they were guilty or innocent.

  Strong Heart nodded. “Ah-hah, what you say is true. It is best that you stay. I will welcome anything that you might do to help lessen the burden of this grief.”

  “Thank you, darling, for allowing it,” Elizabeth said.

  But Strong Heart’s mind was elsewhere. It seethed with anger at who might have done this thing to his people. His tribe lived separate from others because they wanted to live in peace.

  Strong Heart pulled Elizabeth close to him. She could feel his sorrow and anger lessening, and she was glad. She knew that he had to be strong to live through the days ahead as he buried so many of his people and guided the living toward hope again.

  “Such pain burns within my heart,” Strong Heart whispered to Elizabeth, his voice choked with despair.

  “My darling,” Elizabeth comforted him. “My poor, sweet darling. I’m so sorry about everything. So very, very sorry.”

  * * *

  As Earl stood dejectedly at the window in his new office in his fishery, he almost did not hear someone enter. When he looked up and found Morris there, his eyes narrowed in anger.

  “Where the hell have you been?” he yelled. “Why has it taken you so long to get back here to see to business? We’re partners, or do you find that hard to remember?”

  “You better hope I never decide to forget,” Morris said, coming to the desk and running his hands over the smooth texture of the oak finish. “I’d say my money even paid for this desk, wouldn’t you?”

  Earl’s face flushed. He tried to ignore the constant reminders that Morris offered of who did not have the money to back this project and who did.

  “How’s it all look to you?” Earl asked, shaking off his anger and his worry about Elizabeth.

  Morris sat down behind the desk, as if he belonged there. He smiled smugly up at Earl. “I’d say it’s as fine as it ever will be,” he said, chuckling. “And don’t you worry about Chief Moon Elk either. Things have turned around in our favor. Let’s go full speed ahead with the fishery. We’ll wait a few days and go and talk with the chief again. He’ll place his ‘x’ on the dotted line. I’m sure of it.”

  Earl lifted an eyebrow, wondering exactly what Morris would do to convince the chief, yet his thoughts were interrupted by a sight from the window of the office. He saw Maysie riding at the back of a wagon that was headed into Seattle.

  He smiled to himself. Maybe she was gone for good. He hoped.

  “And how’s Elizabeth?” Morris asked, rising from the chair, to place an arm around Earl’s shoulder.

  Earl looked at Morris. The empty feeling rushed back. He had no answers at all about his darling Elizabeth.

  * * *

  Maysie clung to the wagon as it rattled along the dirt road. She had gotten permission from Everett to go with him into Seattle. Unable to bear being at Elizabeth’s house in her absence and feeling guilty because of it, Maysie had decided to leave. She didn’t believe that Elizabeth would ever return. She had been gone for too long. There were too many wicked men in the world to believe Elizabeth would come out of this abduction alive.

  She sat listlessly on the tailgate of the wagon, wondering how she was going to live. It was better to die than to return to her former life! She could walk into the Sound right now, and no one would save her. She would not allow it!

  Making her decision, she jumped from the wagon and ran toward the crashing waves of the Sound. She walked into the water without looking back. But again a voice yelling to her caused her to stop. She remembered how Elizabeth had yelled at her, and had then risked her life to save her.

  She could not resist turning around, to see if it could possibly be Elizabeth.

  The sky was darkening overhead, dusk coming on, so Maysie could not tell whether or not it was Elizabeth. But the hair coloring of the lady standing beside a fancy carriage was identical.

  Hoping that somehow Elizabeth was there, safe and sound, Maysie worked her way back to the shore. She walked, breathlessly toward the road. The lady came forward to meet her.

  “Child, why on earth would you want to kill yourself?” the woman fussed, lifting her shawl from her own shoulders and placing it around Maysie’s. “You come with me. Let me get you warmed at my house and then we can talk this over.”

  Maysie was disappointed that she wasn’t Elizabeth. But she was stunned by the resemblance. This lady was as beautiful as Elizabeth. Her hair was stunningly red. Her eyes were a soft, captivating green. Their faces were almost identical, yet this lady had to be at least twenty years older than Elizabeth.

  No matter how much Maysie wanted it to be Elizabeth, she had to accept that someone besides Elizabeth had saved her this time. She couldn’t find it in herself to try again. And this lady seemed just as kind as Elizabeth.

  The woman placed an arm around Maysie’s tiny waist and led her to the fancy carriage, helping her inside. Once they settled on the plush cushions, the woman commanded the driver to return to her house “promptly.”

  Maysie shivered and accepted a blanket around her shoulders. “You are way too kind,” she said, her teeth chattering. “Thank you.”

  “My name is Marilyn,” the woman said softly, smoothing a stray lock of dark hair back from Maysie’s brow. “Care to tell me yours?”

  Feeling that she could trust this lady, Maysie replied, “Maysie. You can call me Maysie.”

  “Well, Maysie, it’s good to make your acquaintance.” Marilyn ran her hand down her fully gathered, silk dress. Its shade of green matched her hat trimmed with flowers at the brim.

  Maysie smiled meekly at Marilyn. Then, so quickly it seemed, the buggy had come to a halt. “We’re at my house,” Marilyn announced, nodding a thank you to the driver as he opened the door and stepped aside. “Come. Let’s see to getting you warmed.”

  Maysie started to leave the carriage, then stopped in confusion when she recognized the mansion. She remembered it well from when she had envied those women who worked there instead of in the tawdry places along the waterfront. She had heard that this brothel was the best in Seattle, its furnishings and its women breathtakingly beautiful.

  But she no longer wanted such a life. Not after having met Elizabeth, and seeing her wholesomeness.

  No. She would definitely die first!

  “Why do you hesitate?” Marilyn asked, drawing Maysie’s attention.

  “Ma’am I don’t want no part of a brothel,” Maysie said, swallowing hard.

  “Yes, I do manage a brothel,” Marilyn said, placing a gloved hand to Maysie’s cheek. “But that doesn’t mean that you have to work in it just because I bring you here to make you warm and comfortable. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

  Marilyn gazed admiringly at Maysie’s well-endowed figure, then at her angelic face. This young lady could bring top dollar from the men caller
s.

  But Marilyn would never force this life on anyone—a life that even she did not totally approve of. She, herself, no longer took gentlemen to her bed. She supervised, only supervised.

  “If you are sure,” Maysie said, still hesitating.

  Marilyn drew her gently into her arms and gave her a motherly hug. “Positive,” she murmured. “Absolutely positive.”

  Maysie clung to Marilyn, her eyes filling with tears, grateful, yet afraid to totally trust again.

  Chapter 14

  How many days, thou dove,

  Hast thou been mine?

  —BARRY CORNWALL

  It was late afternoon. The sun dipped low in the sky as the muffled beat of ceremonial drums filled the air. The burial rites for the Suquamish dead had just begun. The survivors of the massacre stood on a butte that rose high over the Duwamish River. The cremated remains of the many dead were in one large communal jar. Some would be tossed into the river; the rest would be spread across the land.

  Attired in a fringed buckskin dress decorated with seashells that Many Stars had sweetly lent her, Elizabeth stood among the Indians, with Strong Heart’s sanction.

  She had felt awkward until Many Stars had come to stand by her to give her moral support. Elizabeth gave Many Stars a grateful glance.

  Elizabeth did not think that the lovely maiden was befriending her only because Strong Heart wanted her to. Many Stars sincerely seemed to care for her, even though Elizabeth was white-skinned, and red-haired, and quite different from anyone Many Stars had ever known.

  Elizabeth gave Many Stars a warm smile. She was warmed through and through when Many Stars smiled generously back at her. At this moment, Elizabeth could feel that she belonged in this new world, in this new place with its foreign customs.

  Chief Moon Elk was carried through the throng of people, his wife walking beside him, and carefully placed on a pallet of furs at the front of the assembly. Elizabeth could see Pretty Nose’s devotion to her husband as she made sure he was completely covered by the furs before settling down beside him.

  Elizabeth swallowed hard as she stared at Chief Moon Elk’s wounded leg as he eased it from beneath the furs and stretched it out before him. His wound was covered with some sort of ointment that was green in color. Elizabeth hoped that it would heal quickly. At least then there would be one less burden that Strong Heart would have to carry.

  When Strong Heart stepped before the crowd of silent people, Elizabeth melted inside at his noble appearance. A robe of sea otter pelts was hung from his broad shoulders. It did not hide the heavily beaded, fringed shirt that he wore beneath, nor the leg bands of shredded bark that were twisted about his fringed breeches.

  When he began speaking from the heart to his people, his father and mother looked proudly up at their son. Elizabeth recalled what Strong Heart had told her just before the burial ceremony.

  He had told her that today’s ceremony was not the usual kind for those who had died. Today there were too many dead to eulogize individually.

  And since most of the deceased’s houses had been burned during the raid, it was impossible to perform a main part of the ceremony.

  Strong Heart had explained that his people feared the ghosts of the dead, and their burial traditions reflected that fear as well as the sadness of losing a loved one. Normally, when a death occurred in the village, relatives would cut a special hole in wall of the house, and the body would be taken out through that hole so that no living person would travel the same route again. That would not be possible today, when so many of the dead had lost their homes as well as their lives to the fire.

  Usually, the body, wrapped in a cedar bark mat, would be placed in a tree, out of the reach of animals. Relatives would reverently arrange their loved one’s possessions nearby. But today there were few possessions left, and all that remained of many of the bodies was ashes.

  “Do you hear Strong Heart and what he says?” Many Stars whispered as she leaned closer to Elizabeth, her English quite proficient. The tribe had dealt with white men for many years. “He will one day make a great chief. I have known him since we were children together. Neither of us had brothers or sisters. I became his sister. He became my brother. I watched him as a boy. He outran, out swam, and out wrestled all of his playmates. He also spoke well before people. Even when he was only fifteen winters of age, he practiced the art of speaking well. Then many of his speeches were devoted to restraining our people and allies from declaring war on the settlers. Today he again speaks to his people, sad though it is that he must.”

  Many Stars took Elizabeth by the hand. Elizabeth felt their bond of friendship strengthening. She squeezed Many Stars’s hand in response. Many Stars further encouraged, “Listen to this man whose heart you now hold within your soul. Listen well, and you then will see how lucky you are that he has chosen you to be his la-daila.”

  Feeling so grateful for so much, and at the same time feeling sad for these people and their losses, Elizabeth could not stop tears from springing in her eyes. She gazed proudly at Strong Heart. His words, translated by Many Stars, touched her deeply. He was skilled at making it seem that he was speaking to each individually.

  She had never seen this side of her beloved. She felt filled with more love than she ever thought possible.

  She leaned forward and soaked up his every gesture. The ceremonial drum still beat softly somewhere behind her. Many Stars’s voice murmured in her ear.

  “My people, the spirits of our dead have drifted onward, to the ‘Land of the Dead,’” Strong Heart was saying. “What remains here with us today are pure white ashes, the essence of the good in those who have gone on before us. I shall fling the ashes to the winds and the waters. I shall scatter them on the rocks, the pines, the ferns, the sands, and the wild flowers. Forevermore, they will blend with the things that we all love so well. Would we not all want the spring rains to bathe us? To awaken to the fragrance of the forest, to the call of the birds from out of the sky, and to the lapping lullaby of the river? Would we not want to experience forever the leap of the frog and fish in the stillness of the dawn?”

  He paused and smiled from person to person, stopping longer at his parents. Then he shifted his eyes slowly to Elizabeth, causing her heart to lurch as she met his steady, loving gaze.

  Then he continued his speech, still commanding complete silence from his people. “Our departed loved ones will still be warmed by the summer sun. Be as one to the joy of life and love, to the wonders of a canoe skimming between towering bluffs crowned with emerald and jade. They will still be able to experience the thrill of swimming in golden waters, surrounded by the trees and rock giants, and to know the serenity of twilight, and the infinite mysteries of night. It is with these thoughts that you watch as I scatter the ashes. Then your grief will be lifted to the sky, along with the spirits of those who have loved you while living.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened as she watched Strong Heart reach into the white ashes. She sucked in a wild breath of air as he released the ashes into the river. Then he began walking along the bluff, spreading the ashes onto blossoming wild flowers, along the granite rock, the green grass, and into a brook that flowed down the sides of the bluff.

  When the ashes were all scattered, Elizabeth stood mute as everyone returned to their dwellings, except for Strong Heart. He removed his sea otter robe, and dove into the Duwamish River, looking like a graceful eagle as he soared through the air, splashing into the sparkling clear waters.

  Preoccupied with watching Strong Heart swimming masterfully in the water, Elizabeth did not hear the soft footsteps behind her. When a hand touched hers, she turned with a start, then swallowed hard when she found Strong Heart’s mother standing there.

  “My son will be a while,” Pretty Nose said, glancing down from the bluff, watching Strong Heart taking wide and even strokes as he swam in the bone-chilling waters of the river. “He is saying his last good-byes to those whose ashes are now a part of the river. It is his f
arewell to friends and comrades. Come. Let him do this without an audience.”

  Elizabeth blushed, now thinking that she had been intruding on a private ritual. “I’m sorry,” Elizabeth apologized. “I . . . I didn’t know.”

  “No one expected you to,” Pretty Nose said, urging Elizabeth to walk beside her as she moved slowly down the slope toward the village. “It is true that your customs differ much from ours. If you stay among us, you will learn quickly enough, for my son is a great teacher of many things.”

  Elizabeth was in awe of the kindness of these people, after having recently suffered so much at the hands of their enemies.

  But she knew that Strong Heart had spoken with his mother and father about her, which might have made their acceptance of her more coerced than actual.

  Elizabeth went with Pretty Nose to the longhouse of the chief and accepted a place beside where the lodge fire was blazing. Gazing across the fire at Chief Moon Elk who reclined on the platform piled comfortably with pelts, she smiled weakly as he offered her no more than a nod of welcome.

  She then eased down onto a pillow pad of shredded bark. With a quiet nod of thank you, she accepted a makuk of roasted fish that Pretty Nose had taken from a flat tray of wood.

  With a large bone spoon, Elizabeth attempted to eat the fish. She wished that she had a fork, which would have made it much simpler.

  Pretty Nose sat down beside her and began eagerly eating. Elizabeth attempted to continue eating, but her heart wasn’t in it. Today’s rites had made her hunger wane. All that she wanted was to be with Strong Heart—to have his comforting arms around her again. Only then could she for at least a little while forget the savagery that had been done against his people.

  She looked around her, examining the way in which the chief and his wife lived. It was quite simple, yet much better than she would have expected the Indians to live. The house was one large room, with one end partitioned off by a large buckskin curtain. Beyond that was the sleeping quarters, where the chief and his wife had a comfortable looking bed of furs and wool blankets made of the hair of mountain goats.