was tireless, and she urged his horse on in a way he knew he never could. She was twice the rider he was. She acted as though she had been born on a horse. They rode on after dark that night, and had begun to see farms, a few settlers’ homes, and finally Jean recognized the cabin he had been looking for. He brought their horse to a halt in the front yard, and led him into the barn, and then he urged Wachiwi onto the porch and knocked on the door. It was the home of Luc Ferrier. He had been in the New World for years, trapping in Canada, and trading with the Indians. He had been married to an Indian woman who had since died. Jean considered him a good friend, and trusted him. Luc opened the door and gave a shout of delight when he saw him, and they spoke rapidly in French.
“What are you doing back so soon? I didn’t expect you for another month. Did you run into trouble or get scared?” He always teased Jean, mostly because he had a title, and Luc didn’t. He was from the Pyrenees and a rough mountain man, but he had a kind heart and a lot of ill-disguised respect for Jean, although they liked to tease each other with friendly insults. Luc had seen Jean in some difficult situations, and he always handled himself well.
“A minor incident,” Jean said casually, but Luc could see that they were tired and could guess that they had ridden hard. He didn’t know why or for how long, but he could tell that something had happened and he didn’t want to pry. Whatever it was, they would be safe with him, which was why Jean had headed for his cabin as soon as they left the lake.
“Who’s your friend?” Luc couldn’t resist asking. She was lovely.
“Her name is Wachiwi, and that’s all I know. I think she’s Crow, or maybe Dakota. I can’t tell. I don’t know these tribes as well. I tried to speak Iroquois and Huron to her, she doesn’t speak either. She was living in a Crow village, but she tried to explain to me that she was taken from somewhere else, I think maybe from her father.”
Luc spoke to her in Dakota then, which he spoke fluently since he traded with them at times. He was conversant in many dialects and had an ear for languages, and Wachiwi answered rapidly and talked for quite a long time, explaining her story. She was very impassioned about it, and very expressive, as Jean listened to them both, and understood not a word. But Luc nodded and commented occasionally. Jean wondered if she was telling him that Jean had killed the Crow chief. He hoped not. He didn’t want to implicate or involve him in any way, which it might if he had knowledge of it. This was their problem, not his, and Jean fervently hoped that nothing would come of it. He was planning to continue traveling east with Wachiwi to Fort St. Charles, and to St. Louis after that. He wanted to get both of them as far away as possible from the Crow. What he would do with her after that, he had no idea. And he didn’t know what she wanted either. He was hoping Luc could find out.
It was a long time before Luc turned to him and explained. They were sitting at his kitchen table by then, and he dished up two big plates of stew that he had made himself. He was a good cook, and they hadn’t eaten anything more than berries in three days. Jean was starving, and Wachiwi looked pale. She looked at the food with interest, and gingerly poked it with a finger. Luc handed her a spoon and showed her how to use it. She was quick to learn, and ate politely as Luc explained her situation to Jean.
“She’s a Dakota Sioux. Her father is Chief White Bear. He’s an important chief. I’ve heard of him, although I’ve never met him. They don’t trade with the French, but keep their goods among themselves. She said they were attacked by the Crow last spring, in a raid. She and several other women were taken. They killed two of her brothers and several young men, and she was given to the Crow chief as a war prize. She said that he wanted to make her his wife, and she refused. I might point out to you, by the way, that that’s very unusual. When you’re taken as a slave and refuse to marry the chief you’ve been given to, which is considered an honor, it doesn’t go over very well. He could have killed her. Apparently he chose not to, and she said he treated her decently. She tried to escape several times, by stealing one of their horses. And they caught her and brought her back every time.”
“She’s an incredible rider. I can testify to that,” Jean added. “She can ride anything under any conditions over any terrain. I’m amazed my horse is still standing. She got more out of him in three days than I have in three years. We may find him dead in the barn tonight.” Luc laughed at what his friend said.
“She’s a very courageous girl, defying the chief, and trying to run away. She says you rescued her from the Crow, which is an act of insanity on your part, I might add. If they had caught you stealing the chief’s slave and future wife, and absconding with her, they would have had your scalp in about two seconds. I don’t know how the hell you two got away.”
“We got a head start,” was all Jean said. It was obvious from what Luc said that Wachiwi hadn’t told him Jean had killed her captor and left his body hidden in the bushes. Jean couldn’t help wondering if they’d found him by then. “I’m not planning to stay here long,” Jean went on. “It’s still a little too close for comfort. I want to get to Fort St. Charles, and then to St. Louis. We’ll be fine once we get to the fort. I’m a little uneasy till then.”
“I think you’ll be all right from here on. I’ll give you one of my horses. You need a fresh mount if you’ve been pushing yours hard for three days. She says she wanted to go back to her family, but she can’t now. She doesn’t want to get them in trouble either, and she thinks the Crow will be very angry at her for running away and succeeding this time. She doesn’t want to endanger her father or brothers.” And then he looked at his old friend with a question in his eyes. “What are you going to do with her, Jean?”
“I have no idea. If she can’t go back to her family, which sounds reasonable,” particularly knowing that she would be blamed for killing Napayshni and the Crow would seek revenge if she went back to her village, “I don’t know where to take her.”
“Are you in love with her?” Luc asked him bluntly.
“I don’t even know her,” Jean answered. It wasn’t entirely true. They had been meeting for several weeks, but he didn’t know her well enough to love her. They couldn’t even talk to each other. “I just did her a favor, getting her out.”
“She says she’s your slave now,” Luc informed him.
“I don’t need a slave,” Jean answered quietly. “I don’t even have a house. All I have is a horse, and a bunch of maps. I suppose I could take her to my cousins in New Orleans and leave her there. Maybe she’ll want to stay at Fort St. Charles.”
“There won’t be much for her there. And she speaks no French or English, and has never been out of her village, except with the Crow. She’s never been to a town or a city. Can you imagine her in New Orleans? What would she do there?”
“I don’t know,” Jean said, running a hand through his hair. “She needed help. I didn’t think beyond that.” And in fact, they had had no other choice but to escape, as fast as they could. Both their lives were on the line, not just hers. But he didn’t say that to Luc.
“I think you should keep her,” Luc said, smiling at her. She smiled back at him in return, and told him the food had been good.
“She’s not a piece of furniture, for heaven’s sake, or an object. I can’t just ‘keep’ her. She should have a life, a husband, children, something. I can’t drag her around with me on my horse.”
“Maybe you should get a house and leave her there. She’s a bright girl, and she’s got spirit. You can tell that talking to her. She’s very brave to have been taken by the Crow, defying their chief, and trying to run away. And she says she’s not worried now. She’s with you.”
“Thank her for her faith in me. She’s more responsible for getting us here than I am. I would have gotten lost several times. She had an unfailing sense of direction. She knows the forest as though she’s been in it all her life. She never looked frightened or complained.”
“If you teach her French, you can talk to her.”
“And then what? I think I’ll take her to my cousins. I can buy her some decent clothes in St. Louis.”
“What she’s wearing is more than decent. Everything about it says that she’s a chief’s daughter. The beading, the quills, the beads on her moccasins.”
“I don’t think my cousins in New Orleans will understand that. If I take her there, I need to buy her proper gowns. My cousin’s wife, Angelique, is extremely proper.” There was a quiet dignity about Wachiwi, and a grace, that anyone would notice and have to respect. Angelique had been born in Paris, and was a distant cousin of the king, and never let anyone forget it. She had been in New Orleans for forty years, but she was still extremely French. He knew he would have to teach Wachiwi a few words of French by then.
Jean had stayed with them for several months when he first arrived, and still did from time to time, when he needed a taste of civilization. But it always rapidly became too much for him, and then he took off again. He enjoyed his wanderings in the wilderness and discovering new territories too much to settle for a life in town. He
