Tender savage (34 page)

Erica closed the door behind her, and without looking back, stepped off the porch. "Were you that confident you'd find me?"

Mark stood up straight, removed his hat to brush the hair off his forehead with his fingers, then replaced it and pulled the brim down low to shade his eyes against the morning sun. "Yes, I was. I swore that if you could be found, I'd not return to Camp Release without you."

Erica did not reply, for she knew Mark to be a determined individual who did not stray from a course of action once he had chosen it. He was dependable to a fault, which was commendable, but she wished just once that she could sway him to her point of view, since she knew her arguments were every bit as valid as his.

Having no clue as to her thoughts, this time Mark took Erica's arm in a tender clasp and escorted her over to where the men had tied their horses. "I would prefer to make Viper walk, but because I know you would give me no peace for it, I will allow him to ride. Don't encourage him to try and escape us, because none of us would think twice before shooting him in the back."

Even with the heavy burden of her own sorrow. Erica had noticed Mark had changed a great deal since they had parted. He was no less handsome, but there was a hardened toug^hness about him now, which was new. She did not like it, either. "What's happened to you, Mark? Is it now so easy for you to kill a man that it requires no second thoughts?"

Mark looked down into her beautiful blue eyes and feared for a searing instant that he might actually drown in their azure depths. Then he realized she was waiting to hear the answer to her question. "I'll admit it was difficult to shoot a man the first time I had to do it. The most difficult thing I've ever had to do, really, but after that, it was no different than shooting ducks. The Confederate soldiers are nothing more than human targets," he explained, without the slightest show of emotion to lighten the deadly import of his words.

Not wanting to hear any more talk about death. Erica turned her attention to the horses. "Is this the mare you brought for me?"

"Yes, we call her Sweetheart. I hope you like her." »

"I'm sure I will," Erica agreed, but she quickly turned to

search the faces of the assembled men to find her husband. When she finally saw him at the end of the line of horses, he grinned and winked at her. In return, she mouthed only one word of warning: run. When he frowned then and shook his head slightly, she wanted to scream the word so he would understand it was the only chance he had.

That Erica and her Indian were communicating without words was obvious to Mark, and he moved to stop it immediately. He quickly gave Sergeant Maguire the order to mount up and keep a firm hold on the rope on Viper's stallion. Mark and Erica would ride two abreast behind the Indian with the troopers following them. The determined captain secured Erica's makeshift luggage and Viper's parfleche behind her saddle and helped her up upon the mare's back. The gentle chestnut horse responded readily to a light touch upon the reins, and confident Erica would have no trouble handling her, Mark mounted the dapple-gray gelding he had taken from Camp Release and got this rescue party under way.

The morning sun gave Viper's flowing black hair a radiant halo, and Erica did not take her eyes off him as they rode along. He was riding the stallion bareback as he always did, his posture proud and yet relaxed. How he could relax when they were in such terrible trouble Erica didn't understand. She could think of nothing but the trial that lay ahead, and she vowed she would testify until the judges grew so tired of listening to her extol Viper's virtues they would set him free. That plan did not raise her spirits, though, for she feared the judges would be swayed neither by the truth nor by reason where a brave was concerned.

Mark glanced over at Erica frequently, hoping to catch her looking at him, but she appeared to be completely absorbed in the Indian who preceded them. "He has a very fine horse," Mark stated, abruptly interrupting her solitude, knowing Erica would know exactly who he meant. "Do you know where he stole him?"

Erica turned toward Mark then, but her gaze was filled with fury rather than shining with the love he could not forget. "Viper is no horse thief," she responded emphatically. "The stallion was a gift from Little Crow."

"Ah yes, Little Crow." Mark nodded thoughtfully at the mention of the chief's name. "That bandit has fled to the Dakotas, leaving most of his braves to face the con-

sequences of the uprising alone, while he mistakenly believes he'll go free. He's wrong. He'll be caught soon and sentenced to hang with the rest of them."

While the mention of hanging made Erica shiver with dread, she was anxious to learn more about Little Crow. "How did the uprising end, if Little Crow did not surrender?"

Mark described the Batde of Wood Lake, in which he felt he had played no significant part. He did give the Third Minnesota Regiment credit tor triggering the ambush, however, and foiling Little Crow's plan of attack. "It was no more than blind luck that a few men took it upon themselves to go to the Upper Agency to gather potatoes. If they hadn't, we would have been gunned down while we marched along the road that morning. Little Crow could have claimed a stunning victory and the uprising would still be going on today. As it happened, though, when the chief was beaten he turned tail and ran, leaving the Sioux behind without the heart to continue a fight they must have known was futile at the outset."

"To fight meant far more to them than the eventual outcome," Erica mused aloud. Since Mark seemed interested in discussing the uprising, she briefly listed the Sioux's complaints, thinking if he understood their grievances more fully he would be more sympathetic to Viper's plight.

As he listened to the lithe blonde describe the treatment he had to admit was negligent, if not downright abusive on the government's part, he still could not agree that taking up arms had been the correct way to bring about an end to a long string of injustices. "The Indians' gold reached Fort Ridgely on August eighteenth. Erica, the very day the uprising began. If they had had the patience to wait one more day for the money owed them, none of this would have happened. Hundreds of lives could have been saved, but no, they did not wait."

Knowing it had been the senseless murders in Acton that had sparked the uprising. Erica felt doubly sad, for it now appeared the Sioux had made one baa decision after another. "They never had a chance," she whispered dejectedly. "Not from the day the government decided it wanted their land."

Mark oj^ened his mouth to argue, then knew without

speaking that she would regard anything he might wish to say about opening up new lands for white settlement as indefensible. Perhaps it was, he had to admit, but only to himself, not to her. When they reached the point where the Cottonwood River flowed into the Minnesota, he kept his promise and left Viper there with the cavalry troops. He provided a stem warning that they were not to allow the wily brave to escape them, nor were they to harm him in any way. Satisfied the Indian would be safe for an hour or two, he then escorted Erica into what was left of New Ulm.

With little more than the commercial buildings on Minnesota Street left standing, the once thriving town looked lost and forlorn in the morning sun. As Erica dismounted in front of the dry goods store, her aunt came running out to meet her, tears streaming down her face as she greeted her dear niece.

"Oh Erica," she cried as she hugged her tightly. "We thought we'd never see you again! We're so happy to have you home." Britta turned then to Mark. "Did you kill the bastard who kidnapped her? Did you kill him?"

"No, ma'am, but he's my prisoner, and I'm taking him up to Camp Release for trial," Mark replied without daring to look at Erica, since he was certain he could accurately predict her reaction to that statement.

Karl Ludwig and Gunter came outside before Erica could speak, but she knew she could not allow her relatives to think she had been kidnapped when she had become Viper's wife instead. As shopkeepers from the adjacent stores came out to welcome her home, she was distracted for a few minutes as she responded to their greetings. The first minute she could, though, she suggested to the Ludwigs that they all go into the store to talk privately.

Mark slipF>ed his arm around Erica's waist as he moved to her side. "As you can imagine, your aunt and uncle were amazed when I introduced myself as your fiance." He flashed a taunting grin then, still hurt she had not told her relatives of his existence.

"Yes, we certainly were," Britta agreed, "but Ernst Schramberger was badly hurt by the news. He then assumed your engagement must have been the reason you'd always been so cool to him. Why did you keep such a secret, dear?" The charming woman led the way to the rear of the store where they had been forced to create a home

for themselves in the storeroom.

Chairs were brought for everyone, and as Erica sat down, she found herself the uncomfortable focus of three pairs of inquisitive eyes. She smiled shyly. "You all look well." They did, too, for all they had been through. It was Gunter's appearance that surprised her the most, for he had lost the last traces of his boyish innocence during the uprising. Clearly no longer the youth she had remembered, he was now a man, if still a young one. The handsomeness she had suspected he would one day have was even more pronounced than she had anticipated. She looked over at Mark then, uncertain how much to relate in answer to her aunt's question.

"Mark and I had a rather serious argument before I left Wilmington, and I was still so upset over it when I arrived here that I didn't feel engaged." That was at least the truth, even if it sounded like a feeble excuse for her behavior. She hoped someone else would have something to say, but her relatives simply sat regarding her with rapt gaizes, while Mark sat silently at her side.

"There's something I must explain," she finally blurted out, no longer able to keep her love for Viper a secret.

"I wouldn't, if I were you," Mark warned darkly.

"But I must," Erica insisted. Gathering all her courage, she revealed how she had met Viper in the woods by the river and how when he had taken her from New Ulm she had stayed with him quite willingly, out of love. When she looked over at Gunter, she encouraged him to substantiate her story. "I still have the little cougar you made for me. In fact, I killed a cougar on my own, and Viper made me a necklace like his from its claws." Rather than respond, Gunter got up so quickly he knocked his chair over backwards as he rushed toward the back door, but the bitterness of his expression dashed what little hope she had that he would ever wish to see her again. Outwardly he might have become a man, but his first impulse was still the childish one to flee when confronted with a situation he couldn't accept.

Ignoring her son's hasty departure, Britta dried her eyes on her apron. "I don't know what to say. We were so frightened for you, and now to learn you actually enjoyed that monster's company, well, it is a blessing my sister did not live to hear about this disgrace."

"Aunt Britta, this is no disgrace," Erica contradicted her proudly. "I love Viper, and I plan to do all I can to see any trial he receives is a fair one, and that he is acquitted of all charges. He is my husband. I want to stay here in Minnesota, where I hope we'll be able to see you all often."

Karl rose from his chair as he angrily refused that request. "I can't listen to this rubbish a moment longer. I warned you that brave was no good the day he came into the store and had the gall to speak with you. Just look around. The shelves are all empty. We've precious little left to our names. We have to start all over again, because the years we've lived here don't add up to nothing now. If you think I'll invite one of the heathen dogs responsible for what we've suffered to share my table, you're dead wrong. Now go, get out of here before I call you the whore you obviously are!"

Mark leaped to his feet to defend his love from that hate-filled attack and his first punch caught Karl squarely on the chin. It did not knock the solidly built man down, but it staggered him. Britta began to scream as she moved between die two men and did her best to keep them apart. Knowing the store would rapidly fill with spectators for a fight, Mark grabbed Erica's hand and pulled her along behind him as he headed for the front door.

"Does that satisfy you? Every time you tell that ridiculous tale people will call you a whore, or worse! You can't go around claiming to be Viper's wife and get any respect at all!" He nearly threw her into Sweetheart's sacble, and knowing she would follow since they were returning to where Vif)er was being held, he rode out of town at a furious gallop.

While Sweetheart lacked the speed of the gray gelding, Erica kept Mark in sight as she followed. She was horribly upset at her aunt and uncle's reaction to her story, but she did not feel the slightest trace of shame. She was proud to be Viper's wife, and she would tell everyone who would listen what a fine man he was. Unfortunately, she feared few people would be willing to listen to praise for an Indian brave when the uprising had left no one in the Minnesota Valley unscathed.

Viper sent Erica a questioning look as she returned, but she aid no more than shake her head sadly, and he knew whatever she had found in New Ulm, it had not been good.

After another meal of what he considered inedible rations, he was again given a boost to enable him to mount his horse with his hands tied, and their journey continued. When they crossed the river, he knew they were bound for Fort Ridgely, and he recalled how digusted he had been with their failure to take that important military outpost. They could certainly have used the cannons there so that they would not have been so badly outgunned time and again. As they rode along, he reviewed each of the battles in which he had fought. He had done his best to see they won, but after their initial victories, which he thought a result of the army's foolish mistakes rather than their own skill as warriors, the tide of the war had run steadily against them.

When they reached the fort. Viper was swiftly separated from the group and placed under a heavy guard. When Erica overheard a soldier remark he had seen the brave among those who had attacked the fort, she fought back her tears. She wondered how many other soldiers would remember her husband and be quick to testify against him—five, ten, perhaps dozens? She stood holding Sweetheart's reins until Mark came to her side. Her pain was nearly impossible to bear, but she was so weary &om lack of sleep and the day's travel that she no longer had the energy to cry. "I've never heard of Camp Release. How far away is it?"