Wild Thunder (21 page)

He gave her one last lingering look, then ran to his horse and swung himself into his saddle.

“Let us return to our people!” Strong Wolf said glumly. He flicked his reins and rode away in a gallop, then slowed his horse to a trot as he rode past Tiny and met him eye to eye.

Tiny sneered at him.

Strong Wolf looked arrows at him, then rode away, his heart aching to know that this might be the last time he would have been with Hannah. He knew the chances of her not surviving the dreaded disease.

But he also knew that nothing he could have said would have made her turn her back on her family. He was proud of her loyalty to her family, knowing that one day soon, if fate allowed it, her true, undying loyalty would be to him, her
husband
.

Hannah watched Strong Wolf ride away, tears streaming down her cheeks. This might be the last time she saw him. If she got cholera, and . . .

Her father came and took her by the hand, but she still did not go with him just yet. When she saw Tiny ride up closer to the boat, panic again filled her.

Chuck! Through all of this, she had forgotten about her brother!

She couldn't allow Chuck to come to the boat of death. He was frail as it was. If he contracted the disease, he would never survive!

Hannah ran back down the gangplank. She went to Tiny as he sat on his horse, staring down at her. She pleaded up at him with her eyes. “I never thought that I would ever ask a favor of you,” she said, her voice breaking. “But I must. Tiny, everyone on board this boat has cholera, My parents and sister are on the boat. My sister is quite ill. Please go to Chuck. Explain things to him. Tell him that I am staying here, to help my father take care of those who are ill. Please tell my brother not to worry, and please tell him not to come here. He could get cholera. He isn't a well man. He might die! You must give me your word that you will keep my brother from coming. Please, Tiny. Please?”

Tiny paled as he stared up at the boat, then smiled crookedly down at Hannah. “Well, now, Hannah,” he said, chuckling. “It seems things have changed, doesn't it? You, the high and mighty sister who came to look after her brother, is now havin' to beg the man she loathes.” He scooted his hat back from his brow and leaned down into her face. “I like it. Yeah, I kind'a like it.”

“You would take advantage of the situation,” Hannah said, sighing heavily. “And I was stupid to ask such a thing of you. It would be to your advantage if my brother did die. You'd be able to alter all of the books in your favor before anyone who knows beans about bookkeeping could come and take a look at them.”

“Are you callin' me a cheat?” Tiny growled, his eyes narrowing.

“I call them like I see them,” Hannah said, placing her hands on her hips. Then her eyes softened. “Tiny, you are the only person I can depend on at this time to make sure Chuck is taken care of. If you do him wrong, I'll make sure you hang!”

“Threats?” Tiny said, forking an eyebrow. “Miss stuck-up, you pick a crazy time to hand me threats.”

“I give up,” Hannah said, flailing her hands in the air. She stamped away, then softened inside when Tiny spoke up behind her.

“All right, Hannah,” he said in a civil tone. “I'll go and tell Chuck what's happened. And don't fret none. I'll look after him, fair and square.”

Hannah turned tear-filled eyes at him. “Thank you,” she murmured, then broke into a run and hurried back aboard the ship.

She embraced her mother, so grateful that she had not yet been affected by the disease.

Then when she went to the cabin in which her sister lay so ill and pale, her breathing raspy, Hannah covered her mouth with her hands and emitted a soft cry of despair.

“Clara!” she cried. “Oh, Lord, Clara!”

'Tis very sweet to look into the fair
And open face of heaven—to breathe a prayer
Full in the smile of the blue firmament.

—J
OHN
K
EATS

 

 

 

Several days had passed since Hannah had immersed herself in helping those who were ill. Every day she had watched for the symptoms of cholera in her parents, as well as herself.

And thus far, they had not contracted the dreaded disease.

Although exhausted, Hannah and her parents had tended to Clara and the others with scarcely a wink of sleep.

Needing a bath, her hair full of tangles, Hannah watched her father as he came toward her, equally disheveled. He had hardly let up on her since the day they had begun caring for the ill together. He had told her time and again that she was proving just how much compassion she had for people, and how skilled she was at caring for them.

Today, when she could hardly hold her eyes open for lack of sleep, she attempted to walk away from her father.

But he was too quick.

Especially since her knees were almost too weak to hold her up.

“Take a look around you, Hannah,” Howard said, gesturing with a hand toward cots of people who were recovering. “If not for your tender care, their graves would be added to those who died.”

“Yes, Father,” Hannah said, her voice drawn. “I know. And I'm proud.”

She blinked her eyes, in an effort to stay awake.

She swayed somewhat, then grabbed for the back of a chair to steady herself.

“Then, Hannah, surely you must see how much you are needed in the medical field,” Howard urged, his eyes pleading with her.

“Father, I understand how you feel,” she murmured. “But please. Not today. Please don't start on me again today. I . . . need . . . to go and get some sleep now that the crisis has passed for everyone.”

She gazed over at Clara, who was awake and taking nourishment as Hannah's mother slowly fed her sips of broth from a spoon. “And thank God Clara is going to be all right,” she murmured. “Had she died, I just don't know . . .”

“But she didn't die,” her father said, interrupting her. “And she owes that in part, to
you
.”

“Father, I only did . . .” Hannah said, but he again interrupted her.

“Hannah,” he said, gently gripping her shoulders as he gazed into her weary eyes. “Admit it. Let me hear you say that you
know
you are skilled at caring for people. You have proven that you could be a doctor. You must forget that crazed idea of marrying an Indian. Go to school. Get your license. Come and join my medical practice. Let me have something to brag about, honey. Let me show you off to the world.”

“Are you saying that if I don't become a doctor, you won't have anything nice to say about me?” Hannah asked, her heart aching because he had such a narrow, one-tracked mind. “That if I don't become a doctor, you would rather disown me?”

Her father paled. He dropped his hands to his sides. “No,” he said shallowly. “I didn't say that at
all
.”

“Well, that's how it sounded to me,” Hannah said, lifting her chin stubbornly.

Again she blinked her eyes.

They were so heavy from lack of sleep.

She felt dizzy from it.

All she wanted now, since she knew that Clara was going to be all right, was to sleep for weeks!

Her father gazed down at her. He took her hand and led her outside, on top deck, where the air was sweet and fresh; the sky was clear and blue.

Hannah breathed it all in and said a soft prayer to herself that for the most part, this nightmare was over and would soon be totally behind her. She would resume her life again, a life with the man she loved. Oh, how she had missed Strong Wolf these past dreary days.

Howard drew her into his warm embrace. “Honey, don't purposely misinterpret what I am saying,” he said softly. “But surely you don't want to be a mere Indian's squaw when you could go to school and be a doctor. You would be admired. You would be helpful to those who needed you.”

Hannah found the strength, perhaps the last
of
her strength, to wrench herself from her father's arms. “Father, do you realize that I am old enough to know my own mind?” she said, sighing heavily. “Yet you are still trying to tell me what to do. You are still hellbent on running my life. And please listen to me when I say that I am going to be with the man I love.
He
needs me. I need
him
.”

“I . . . don't . . . want you to marry a damn savage,” Howard blurted, his eyes dark with fury. “Your life is worth more than that, Hannah. Much more than that!”

Stunned by how he had referred to Strong Wolf as a savage, Hannah took an unsteady step away from him. “How dare you,” she said, her voice trembling. “Strong Wolf is . . .”

Having pulled the last ounce from inside her to fight for her rights, Hannah felt a keen light-headedness quickly seize her.

She grabbed for the chair again, but missed it.

A black void enwrapping her, she sank to the floor in a dead faint.

“Hannah!” Howard gasped. He fell to his knees and gathered her into his arms.

Grace had come on top deck and stood in the shadows, listening to the debate between daughter and father. She went to Howard, her tired eyes glaring. “You just couldn't leave her alone, could you?” she accused. “Why can't you let it be, Howard? Hannah is no longer your little girl. She is a grown lady. And she
is
going to marry Strong Wolf.”

Her hands were soft on Hannah's brow. “My sweet, precious daughter,” she said, sighing with relief when Hannah's brow was cool to the touch. “Thank goodness she's not ill. She's just completely worn herself out.” She glared up at Howard. “And not only from working so hard day in and out these past several days. From listening to
you
, Howard.”

Howard carried Hannah to his cabin and placed her gently on his bunk.

Grace knelt down beside the bunk and kissed Hannah's brow. “Sleep, darling Hannah,” she whispered. “When you awaken, you will be with the man you love.”

Howard gasped. “What?” he said, his eyes locking in silent battle with his wife as she turned glaring eyes up at him.

“Now that the crisis is over and the danger has passed, I am going to ask someone to take Hannah to Strong Wolf,” Grace said. “And don't try and stop me. I imagine that man is almost out of his mind with worry over Hannah. We've kept her from him long enough.”

She rose shakily to her feet, herself feeling faint with exhaustion. “And we're going to take Clara to Chuck's ranch this morning,” she said. “We are no longer needed on this boat. And the crew has managed to get it dislodged from the sandbar. It can now be on its way downriver.”

“Suddenly you are telling me and everyone else what to do?” Howard said incredulously.

“It's about time, I'd say,” Grace said stiffly, defying him with a sleady stare. “Yes, it's about time I became my own person who speaks her own mind. Thank God, Hannah has learned earlier than I. She'll be much happier for it.”

She looked at Hannah for a moment, then cast her husband another tired, but determined gaze over her shoulder. “And she'll have much more respect from her husband,” she said, her voice breaking.

Toiling,—rejoicing,—sorrowing,
Onward through life he goes.

—H
ENRY
W
ADSWORTH
L
ONGFELLOW

 

 

 

The room was deep in shadow as the sun rose and Tiny slowly opened the door to Chuck's office. He tensed when the door squeaked ominously in the early morning hours; Chuck should still be asleep.

Tiny scarcely breathed as he looked over his shoulder at the closed door to Chuck's bedroom across the hall. He listened carefully for the sound of Chuck's cane against the wood floor.

He didn't hear it. Tiny's eyes narrowed. He went on inside the office.

He gave the door a questioning stare. He would feel much more secure if he could close it, yet it was too dangerous to chance making it squeak again. Since Chuck's eyesight had weakened, his other senses had been strengthened: namely his hearing.

Knowing that time was of the essence, Tiny tiptoed across the room to the desk. His fingers trembled as he opened one ledger, and then another.

At any moment the rooster in the barnyard would crow. The rooster was Chuck's morning alarm and had never failed to wake him.

Tiny smiled when he found the ledger he was after. This was the only one that had not yet been altered in his favor.

Dollar by dollar, Tiny had stolen that which he had erased from the finances shown in the journals. Soon he would disappear, and no one would be able to trace him,
or
Chuck's money.

Tiny had given up believing that he could ever own Chuck's land—the land that bordered the Potawatomis's. Now that Chuck's relatives were involved, Tiny had lost all opportunities of taking anything but cash money.

“Damn that Hannah,” Tiny whispered as he sat down behind the desk and opened the journal. “If not for her, I'd be home clear. And now another sister will be here to see after Chuck's welfare. It's time for me to take what I can, and
leave
.”

Smiling crookedly, Tiny dipped a pen into the inkwell. Slowly, methodically, and skillfully, he began altering the figures on the pages.

He gazed over at the safe. Thank God he knew how to open it. Today he would remove the money that he had been setting aside beneath a thick bundle of journals.

Tiny had swindled Chuck out of enough money to live the life of luxury for the rest of his life.

By tonight, he would be so far from this ranch, no one would ever be able to find him!

So absorbed in what he was doing, Tiny didn't hear Chuck entering the office. After hearing the door squeak, Chuck had purposely not used his cane to feel his way from his bedroom to the office.

Chuck stood at the opened door and sniffed. He could smell the mixture of perspiration and horseflesh and knew from that, that Tiny was in the office.

Chuck squinted through his thick eyeglasses, yet was unable to make out anything, or anyone.

But his ears picked up the sound of a pen scratching its way along paper. His keen smell picked up another familiar scent. Ink.

Tiny had come at a strange time to work on the ledgers. The reason could only be that he was doing something underhanded.

“And so you are eager to work today, are you, Tiny?” Chuck said as he felt his way across the room.

Tiny was so startled by Chuck's sudden appearance, he knocked over the inkwell, spilling ink all over the top of the desk and the journal in which he had been altering the figures.

“Damn,” Tiny said, reaching quickly for an ink blotter. As he looked guardedly up at Chuck, he soaked up the spilled ink. “Chuck, you scared the livin' hell outta me.”

“And why would my appearance in my own office frighten you?” Chuck said, stopping to stand over the desk.

He glanced over toward the hazy, dull light of morning that he could just barely make out at the window. “I don't believe I heard the rooster crow yet,” he said. “That has to mean that you are working before breakfast.” He smiled smugly down at Tiny. “Want to tell me why you have such a sudden interest in working over hours?”

“I . . . I . . . just had to take a look at the journals,” Tiny stammered. “I worried about some recent entries. I . . . I think I may have made some mistakes.”

“Yes, I think you have,” Chuck said. He placed his hands, palm side down, on the desk and leaned closer to Tiny. “Now, would you like to explain to me about those . . . eh . . . mistakes. Tiny?”

“I . . . I . . . just rushed through making the entries, that's all,” Tiny said. He slowly eased himself up from the chair. “But now they've been corrected.”

“Give me a look,” Chuck said, moving around the desk to stand beside Tiny.

“What?” Tiny said, moving on out of the chair. He backed away from Chuck. “What do you mean? You can't see.”

“Now, are you absolutely certain of that, Tiny?” Chuck said, chuckling low.

Suddenly Tiny pretended to fall over the chair, purposely to bump against Chuck and knock his glasses off.

The glasses fell to the floor. Tiny crunched them beneath his boot. “Oh, no,” he said, pretending alarm. “Look what I did. Your glasses, Chuck. I . . . broke . . . them.”

Chuck steadied himself as he held onto the edge of the desk. His jaw tight, he fumbled around until he found a key that he had hidden beneath his desk.

Then he gave it to Tiny. “Unlock the bottom drawer,” he said icily.

Tiny's hands shook as he opened the drawer, his eyes never leaving Chuck.

“Now, reach inside and get me my other pair of glasses,” he said, smiling devilishly down at Tiny when he heard him gasp. “And not only that, Tiny. Get me that magnifying glass. I've found it quite useful these past several days. You'd he surprised to know what I've discovered in these ledgers.”

Tiny paled. Knowing that he had been caught, he backed away from Chuck, then bolted and ran from the room.

Chuck sighed and eased into his chair. “Damn, damn, damn,” he said, pounding a fist against the desktop. “He's been cheating me all along! How could I have been so stupid? Just how much money
did
he swindle me out of?”

His fingers trembled as he slipped his glasses on.

Then, feeling defeated, he went to his safe and slowly turned the combination. He had made notches in the dial when he had started going blind. These notches led him to the right numbers.

The safe door swung open. Chuck fumbled around inside until he found his stack of journals and boxes of papers that he had stored there long before he had started losing his eyesight.

One by one he removed things from his safe, his fingers recognizing each box, each journal, each keepsake, each bundle of money.

Then his eyes widened when his fingers came upon something foreign after removing everything down to only a few things. It had been a long time since he had made inventory on what was inside his safe.

Now that he was finally doing it, he found a box that was unfamiliar to him.

It had been hidden beneath everything else.

His fingers trembling, Chuck took the box from the safe. He placed it on the floor before him, then slowly raised the lid. The scent of money, which he always associated and identified with dirty hands and mildew, wafted upward into his nose. He ran his fingers over the several bundles.

“Damn,” he whispered, paling. “Tiny hid the money he swindled from me under my very own nose!”

A chill raced up and down his spine. “He was aiming to leave soon,” he said, realizing his intent. “This would pay his way. Had I not caught him, he'd be a rich man!”

Deliberately, his jaw set, his heart beating soundly over his anger at this man who had taken advantage of his illness, Chuck scooted the desk aside.

He then felt his way along the floor beneath his desk.

Smiling, his fingers searched until they found a loose board.

Picking up the board away from the others and laying it aside, he felt down inside it until he found a safe; he had used this one before he had started going blind and before Tiny had come to work for him.

“You damn cheat,” he whispered beneath his breath as he placed all of the money in this safe. “Just try and come back and take what isn't yours. Won't you get a surprise!”

He swallowed hard. “I should've listened to Hannah,” he whispered, his insides aching to know if Hannah was all right.

He wondered about the welfare of his family and whether Clara had survived. He had not wanted to chance contracting cholera, so had not gone to check. His life was miserable enough being blind.

Then he felt guilty for thinking of himself, when his sisters' lives lay in balance.

His eyes widened when he heard the sound of a wagon arriving outside. “Could it be?” he whispered.

He lifted the floorboard back in place, scooted the desk back where it belonged, then felt his way out of the room.

Out in the hall he grabbed his cane, then found his way to the front door and opened it. He could hear the wagon drawing closer as he stepped out onto the porch.

“Chuck!” his father shouted. “Son! Everyone is all right, son! Clara is here! We're bringing her to recover the rest of the way at your house! Oh, son, it's so good to see you!”

Tears ran from Chuck's eyes as he felt his way down the steps.

Soon he was enveloped in the strong arms of his father, then the soft, gentle arms of his mother.

“Chuck?”

His sister Clara's sweet, gentle voice drew Chuck out of his mother's arms.

Chuck went to Clara. He climbed into the back of the wagon and drew his sister into his arms. “Sis,” he whispered. He slowly rocked her back and forth as he held her.

Then he grew cold inside when he realized that Hannah wasn't with them.

He eased Clara from his arms and turned to his father.

“God, where's Hannah?” he gasped.

“Like I said, son, we're all fine,” Howard said.

“Then, where is
Hannah
?” Chuck persisted.

“She's with Strong Wolf,” Howard said matter-of-factly.

Chuck was taken aback by the knowing.