The Wild Huntress: Love in the Wilderness

Chapter Eighty Seven
Suspicious Appearances

The Indians came crowding around the corpse – both warriors and women. Their exclamations betokened no sympathy. Even the squaws looked on with unpitying aspect – though the victim was of their own race and sex. They knew she had been allied with their enemies; and had been witnesses of her savage assault upon Maranee, though ignorant of its motive. Some of them who had lost kindred in the strife, already stirred by grief and fury, were proceeding to insult the lifeless and mutilated remains – to mutilate them still more! I turned away from the loathsome scene. Neither the dead nor the living, that composed this ghastly tableau, had further interest for me.

My glance, wandering in search of other forms, first fell upon that of Wingrove. He was standing near, in an attitude that betokened extreme prostration of spirit. His head hung forward over his breast; but his eyes were not directed to the ground: they were turned upward, gazing after a form that was passing away. It was that of the huntress. The girl had regained her horse; and was riding off, followed by the dog. She went slowly – as if irresolute both as to the act and the direction. In both, the horse appeared to have his will: the reins rested loosely upon his withers; while his rider seemed wrapped in a silent abstraction. I was hastening towards my Arab, with the design of joining her, when I saw that I was anticipated. Another had conceived a similar intention. It was Wa-ka-ra.

The young chief, still on horseback, was seen spurring out from the midst of his men, and guiding his war-steed in the direction taken by the huntress. Before I could lay hands upon my bridle, he had galloped up to Marian, and falling into a gentler pace, rode on by her side. I did not attempt to follow them. Somewhat chagrined at having my designs interrupted, I gave up the intention of mounting my horse, and turned back towards Wingrove. As soon as I was near enough to read the expression upon his features, I saw that my chagrin was more than shared by him. An emotion of most rancorous bitterness was burning in the breast of the young backwoodsman. His glance was fixed upon the two forms – slowly receding across the plain. He was regarding every movement of both with that keen concentrated gaze, which jealousy alone can give.

“Nonsense, Wingrove!” said I, reading the thoughts of his heart. “Don’t let that trouble you: there’s nothing between them, I can assure you.”

Certainly the spectacle was enough to excite the suspicions of a less jealous lover – if not to justify them. Both the equestrians had halted at a distant part of the plain. They were not so distant, but that their attitudes could be observed. They still remained on horseback; but the horses were side by side, and so near each other, that the bodies of their riders appeared almost touching. The head of the chief was bent forward and downward; while his hand appeared extended outward, as if holding that of the huntress! It was a fearful tableau for a lover to contemplate – even at a distance; and the white lips, clenched teeth, and quick irregular beating of Wingrove’s heart – perfectly audible to me as I stood beside him – told with what terrible emotions the sight was inspiring him. I was myself puzzled at the attitude of the Utah chief – as well as the silent complaisance with which his attentions appeared to be received. It certainly had the seeming of gallantry – though I was loth to believe in its reality. In truth I could not give credence to such a thought. It was not human nature – not even woman’s – to play false in such sans façon. The appearance must certainly be a deception?

I was endeavouring to conjecture an explanation, when a moving object attracted my attention. It was a horseman who appeared upon the plain, beyond where the huntress and the chief had halted. To our eyes, he was nearly in a line with them – approaching down the valley from the upper cañon – out of which he had evidently issued. He was still at a considerable distance from the other two; but it could be seen that he was coming on at full gallop and straight towards them. In a few moments, he would be up to where they stood. I watched this horseman with interest. I was in hopes he would keep on his course, and interrupt the scene that was annoying myself, and torturing my companion. I was not disappointed in the hope. The hurrying horseman rode straight on; and, having arrived within a few paces of the ground occupied by the others, drew his horse to a halt. At the same instant, the Utah chief was seen to separate from his companion; and riding up to the stranger, appeared to enter into conversation with him.

After some minutes had elapsed, the chief faced round to the huntress; and, apparently giving utterance to some parting speech, headed his horse toward the butte, and along with the stranger, came galloping downward. The huntress kept her place; but I saw her dismount, and stoop down towards the dog, as if caressing him. I resolved to seize the opportunity of speaking with her alone; and, bidding Wingrove wait for my return, I once more hastened to lay hold of my horse. Perhaps I should encounter the chief on the way? Perhaps he might not exactly like the proceeding? But Marian must be communicated with upon something besides matters of love; and my honest intention rendered me less timid about any idle construction the savage might please to put upon my conduct. Thus fortified, I leaped to the back of my steed, and hurried off upon my errand.

Chapter Eighty Eight
A fresh Éclaircissement

As we rode in counter-directions, I met the chief almost on the instant. I was slightly surprised that he passed, without taking notice of me! He could not fail to guess whither I was going: as I was heading straight for the huntress; and here was no other object to have drawn me in that direction. He did not even appear to see me! As he passed at a rapid pace, his eyes were bent forward upon the butte, or occasionally turned towards the horseman who galloped by his side. The strange horseman was an Indian. From the absence of the war-costume, I could tell he had not been engaged in the late conflict, but had just arrived from some distant journey – no doubt, a messenger who brought news. His jaded horse and dusky garb justified this conjecture. Equally desirous of shunning an encounter, I passed the two riders in silence, and kept on my course. As I drew near to the huntress-maiden, I was speculating on the reception I might expect, and the explanation I ought to give. How would she receive me? Not with much grace, I feared; at all events, not till she should hear what I had to say. The ambiguous and ill-timed appearance of the Chicasaw, combined with the sinister and dramatic incident which followed, must have produced on her mind eccentric and erroneous impressions. The effect would naturally be to falsify, not only the protestations of her lover, but my own testimony borne in his behalf, and indeed all else she had been told. It was not difficult to predict an ungracious reception. As I approached, she gave over caressing the dog; and once more leaped to the back of her horse. I was in fear that she would ride off, and shun me. I knew I could easily overtake her; but a chase of this nature would scarcely have been to my liking.

“Marian Holt!” I said, in a tone of gentle remonstrance, “your suspicions are unjust; I have come to offer you an explanation – ”

“I need none,” interrupted she in a quiet voice, but without raising her eyes. A gentle wave of her hand accompanied the words. I fancied both the tone and the gesture were repellant; but soon perceived that I was mistaken. “I need none,” she repeated, “all has been explained.”

“Explained! How?” I inquired, taken by surprise at the unexpected declaration. “Wa-ka-ra has told me all.”

“What! – of Su-wa-nee?” A gesture of assent was the answer. “I am glad of this. But Wa-ka-ra! how knew he the circumstance?”

“Partly from the Mexican to whom your people have communicated them – partly from the captive Arapahoes. Enough – I am satisfied.”

“And you forgive Wingrove?”

“Forgiveness now lies upon his side. I have not only wronged him by my suspicions, but I have reviled him. I deserve his contempt, I can scarcely hope to be forgiven.”

Light had broken upon me – bright light it was for Wingrove! The suspicious duetto with the Utah chief was explained. Its innocence was made further manifest, by what came under my eyes at the moment. On the arm that was raised in gesture, I observed a strip of cotton wound round it above the wrist. A spot of blood appeared through the rag!

“Ha! you are wounded?” said I, noticing the bandage. “It is nothing – merely a scratch made by the point of the knife. Wa-ka-ra has bound it up. It still bleeds a little, but it is nothing.” It was the rôle of the surgeon, then, the chief had been playing when seen in that ambiguous attitude! More light for Wingrove!

“What a fiend!” I said, my reflection directed towards Su-wa-nee. “She deserved death!”

“Ah – the unfortunate woman! hers has been a terrible fate; and whether she deserved it or not, I cannot help feeling pity for her. I would to God it had been otherwise; but this faithful companion saw the attempt upon my life; and when any one attacks me, nothing can restrain him. It is not the first time he has protected me from an enemy. Ah me! mine has been a life of sad incidents – at least the last six months of it.”

I essayed to rescue her from these gloomy reflections. I foresaw the termination of her troubles. Their end was near. Words of cheer were easily spoken. I could promise her the forgiveness of her lover: since I knew how freely and promptly that would be obtained.

“Ah, Marian,” I said, “a bright future is before you. Would that I could say as much for myself – for your sister Lilian!”

“Ha!” exclaimed she, suddenly excited to an extreme point of interest, “tell me of my sister! You promised to do so? Surely she is not in danger?”

I proceeded to reveal everything – my own history – my first interview with Lilian – my love for her, and the reasons I had for believing it to be returned – the departure from Tennessee with the Mormon – our pursuit of the train, and capture by the Indians – in short, everything that had occurred, up to the hour of my meeting with herself. I added my suspicions as to the sad destiny for which her sister was designed – which my own fears hindered me from concealing. After giving way to those natural emotions, which such a revelation was calculated to excite, the huntress-maiden suddenly resumed that firmness peculiar to her character; and at once entered with me into the consideration of some plan by which Lilian might be saved from a fate – which her own experience told her could be no other than infamous.

“Yes!” cried she, giving way to a burst of anguish, “too well know I the design of that perjured villain. O father! lost – dishonoured! O sister! bartered – betrayed! Alas! poor Lilian!”

“Nay – do not despair! – there is hope yet. But we must not lose time. We must at once depart hence, and continue the pursuit.”

“True – and I shall go with you. You promised to take me to my home! Take me now where you will – anywhere that I may assist in saving my sister. Merciful heaven! She, too, in the power of that monster of wickedness!”

Wingrove, wildly happy – at once forgiving and forgiven – was now called to our council. The faithful Sure-shot was also admitted to the knowledge of everything. We might stand in need of his efficient arm. We found an opportunity of conferring apart from the Indians – for the scalp-dance now engrossed their whole attention. Withdrawing some distance from the noisy ceremony, we proceeded to discuss the possibility of rescuing Lilian Holt from the grasp of that knave into whose power the innocent girl had so unprotectedly fallen.

Chapter Eighty Nine
Planning an Abduction

Our deliberations occupied but a brief time. I had already considered the subject in all its bearings; and arrived at the conviction that there was only one course to be followed, by which Lilian’s safety could be secured – that is, by carrying her off from the Mormon train. In this opinion her sister fully agreed. She knew it would be idle to expect that the wolf would willingly yield up his victim; and the painful thought was pressing upon her that even her own father, hoodwinked by the hypocrites that surrounded him, might reject the opportunity of saving his child! He would not be the only parent, who, blinded by this abominable delusion, has similarly sacrificed upon the unhallowed altar of Mormondom. Of this melancholy fact Marian was not ignorant. Her unhappy journey across the great plains had revealed to her many a strange incident – many a wicked phase of the human heart.

All agreed that Lilian must be taken from the Mormons, either by force or by stealth. It must be done, too, before they could reach the Salt Lake city. Once upon the banks of the Transatlantic Jordan, these pseudo-saints would be safe from the interference of their most powerful enemies. There the deed of abduction would be no longer possible; or, if still possible, too late. Was it practicable elsewhere – upon the route? And how was it to be effected? These were the questions that occupied us. There were but three men of us: for the Irishman, now completely hors de combat, must be left behind. True, the huntress-maiden, who had declared her determination to accompany us, might well be counted as a fourth; in all four guns. But what would four guns avail against more than ten times the number? Wingrove had learnt from the wretched Chicasaw that there were a hundred men with the Mormon train. It was idle, therefore, to think of carrying her off by force. That would have been sheer quixotism – only to end fatally for all of us.

And was it not equally idle to dream of an abduction by stealth? Verily, it seemed so. How were we to approach this Mormon host? How enter their camp, guarded as it would be by the jealous vigilance of lynx-eyed villains? By day, it would be impossible; by night, hazardous, and equally impracticable would be our purpose. We could not join company with these clannish emigrants, without offering some excuse. What pretext could be put forward? Had we been strangers to them, we might have availed ourselves of some plausible story; but, unfortunately, it was not so. All of us, except Sure-shot, would be known to their leader. My presence, however unexpected, would at once proclaim my purpose to the keen-witted knave; and as for Marian Holt, hers would be a position of positive danger – even equalling that in which her sister was now placed. Stebbins could claim her – if not by a true husband’s right, at least by the laws of Mormon matrimony; and of course by those laws would the case be judged in a Mormon camp – the apostle himself being their interpreter!

The hope which I had built upon the prospect of an alliance with Marian was, that by her intercession Lilian might be induced voluntarily to make her escape – even, if necessary, from her father! I had conceived the hope too hastily – without dwelling upon the danger to Marian herself. This was now evident to all of us. We saw that Marian could not safely enter the Mormon camp. We could not think of submitting her to a danger that might too probably conduct to a double sacrifice – two victims instead of one. Our thoughts turned upon the ex-rifleman. He was the only one of us unknown to the leader of the Mormons, and to Holt himself. To Sure-shot, then, were our hopes next transferred. He might join the train on some pretext, the rest of us remaining at a distance? By this agency, a communication might be effected with Lilian herself; the proximity of her sister made known; the perils of her own situation – of which no doubt the young creature was yet entirely ignorant. Her scruples once overcome by a knowledge of her own danger, she would herself aid in contriving a plan of escape! For such a purpose, Sure-shot was the man – adroit, crafty, courageous. Thus ran our reflections.

It may be wondered why, in this emergency, we had not thought of Wa-ka-ra: surely he could have given us effective aid. With his mounted warriors, he could soon have overtaken the Mormon train, surrounded it, and dealt out the law to its leader? But we had already learnt the improbability of our appeal being acted upon. Marian had interpreted to us the views of the Utah chief in relation to the Mormons. These wily diplomatists had, from their first settlement in the Utah territory, courted the alliance of Wa-ka-ra and his band. They had made much of the warlike chief – had won his confidence and friendship – and at that hour the closest intimacy existed between him and the Mormon prophet. For this reason, Marian believed it would require a stronger motive than mere personal friendship to make him act as their enemy.

In such an important enterprise, no chance should be left untried. I was determined none should be; and therefore incited Marian to make an appeal to the Utah chief. She consented. It was worth the experiment. Should the answer prove favourable, our difficulties would soon disappear, and we might hope for a speedy success. If otherwise, our prospects would still be the same – no worse: for worse they could scarcely be. Marian left us, and proceeded on her errand to the chief. We saw him withdraw from the ceremonies, and, going apart, engage with the girl in what appeared an earnest and animated conversation. With hopeful hearts we looked on. Wingrove was no longer jealous. I had cured him with a hint; and the bandaged arm of his betrothed had explained the delicate attentions, which the Indian had been seen to bestow upon her. The dialogue lasted for ten minutes, the speakers at intervals glancing towards us; but we knew the theme, and patiently awaited the issue. It was soon to be declared to us. We saw the chief wave his hand – as a signal that the conversation was ended; and the speakers parted. Wa-ka-ra walked back among his warriors, while Marian was seen returning to our council. We scrutinised her countenance as she approached, endeavouring to read in it what our wishes dictated – an affirmative to our appeal. Her step was buoyant; and her glance, if not gay, at least not one that betokened disappointment. We were unable to determine, however, until her words declared the answer of the chief. As Marian had anticipated, he could not consent to act openly against the Mormons. But the tale had enlisted his sympathy; and he had even suggested a plan by which we might carry out our design, without the necessity of his interference.

It was this: the horseman that had just arrived, chanced to be a messenger from the Mormons. Unable to find the Coochetopa Pass, they were still encamped in the great valley of San Luis, on the banks of the Rio del Norte. The only one of them who had been across the plains before was their leader – Stebbins, of course – and he, having gone by the Cherokee trail and Bridger’s Pass, was entirely unacquainted with the route they were now following. They were in need of a guide; and having encountered the Indian at this crisis, and learnt that he belonged to the band of Wa-ka-ra – not far off, as the man informed them – they had despatched him to the Utah chief, with a request that the latter would furnish them with a guide, and two or three of his best hunters. Before Marian had ended her explanation, I had divined the scheme. We were to personate the guide and hunters. That was the suggestion of the Utah chief!

It was perfectly feasible. Nothing can be easier than to counterfeit the semblance of the American Indian. The colour of the skin is of no consequence. Ochre, charcoal, and vermilion made red man and white man as like as need be; and for the hair, the black tail of a horse, half-covered and confined by the great plumed bonnet, with its crest dropping backward, is a disguise not to be detected. The proud savage doffs his eagle plumes to no living man; and even the most intrusive Mormon would not dare to scrutinise too closely the coiffure of an Indian warrior. The plan was rendered further practicable, by a new and able ally enlisting himself into our ranks. This was the trapper, Archilete, who, from a hint given him by the Utah chief, at once volunteered to act as the guide. The Mexican had already conceived an instinctive antipathy towards the Mormon “hereticos;” and we might rely upon his fidelity to our cause. The scheme exactly suited the eccentric character of this singular man; and he entered upon his duties con amore, and at once. By his assistance we soon procured the required costumes and pigments; but neither were to be “put on” in the presence of the Utahs. It was necessary that Wa-ka-ra should not be compromised by a too conspicuous “intervention.”

The friendly chief had hinted a further promise to Marian – even an open interference in our favour – should that become necessary. He would follow close after the Mormon train; and, should our design prove a failure, might then use his influence on our behalf. This would have been the best news of all. With such a prospect, we should have had little to fear for the result; but alas! before leaving the ground, an incident occurred that threatened to prevent our generous ally from fulfilling that promise, however formally he might have made it.