Chapter 18 #2
“I understand, miss,” said Adams, “but Mr. Laidlaw thought this way was for the best. I suspect he was afraid you might protest.”
“I see,” she acknowledged. “How fortunate for us to know Mr. Laidlaw can think for us all, without ever having to consult us. Heaven forbid we tax our own minds.”
Adams grinned, and Marietta was certain that, if the man had grasped the sarcasm underlying her words, he chose to ignore it.
He said, “You should get yourself ready to turn in, ma’am. I apologize to you now because we’ll have to bind both you and your friend, but it’ll be for the night only.”
Marietta frowned at him. “I hardly think this is necessary.”
“I’m sorry, miss.” And he truly did look sorry. “But it’s Laidlaw’s orders. Guess he felt you might try ta steal away.”
Marietta pressed her lips together, drawing in her brows at the same time. “And dear God in heaven, spare us if we should think to disobey Mr. Laidlaw’s orders.”
Adams smiled at her. “I’m sorry. Just get ready to settle in. We’ll be up early in the morning to get started again. Me and the men are goin’ to go secure the boat now, but you and your maid should get yourselves ready to sleep.”
Despite his good nature, Marietta might have replied to him with even more sass, but at the moment, the man who had been securing their cargo stepped into their camp.
In his hand, he held a small tree he had uprooted, and with an inane grin, he said, “Look what I found—this little sapling’ll make a good whip.
” He swung the tree round and round his head, using the sapling like a lash as he did a little dance. The men all laughed, even Adams.
As Marietta watched, she recalled another time, another set of saplings, another man and another set of values. She wondered, did this voyageur know he had disturbed the oneness of nature?
Probably not. Only days ago, she wouldn’t have known any differently either.
But now she did and was curious if the voyageur would ever come to realize that all life was precious. That the life you took from another could detract from your own immortal soul.
All at once, Marietta slammed into a realization: She had changed. Her viewpoint on life had changed; it was completely different than it had been. Indeed, England seemed very far away in many ways. Not at all connected with the here and now.
It was a strange feeling, as though all this time she had been living in the future, forgetting there was a present.
But not now. At this moment in time, she was very aware of the presence of life all around her. She felt the urge to become a part of every living creature—to attain the oneness in nature, and to experience the beauty of it to its fullest extent.
Dear Lord. How had it happened? When had it happened?
Somehow, in some way, her spirit and Grey Coyote’s had merged, had become kindred. They were connected by a happening more real than this material universe. Perhaps the very spirit of the land had entered into her soul.
If it had, it was good. Indeed, it was very good, for it was a wonderful feeling.
She inhaled deeply. Though less than a month had passed since she had begun traveling with Grey Coyote, she was a different person. This was now her home, Grey Coyote, her man.
She would escape. Luckily, thanks to Grey Coyote, she had a good idea of how she might accomplish this.
Glancing toward Yellow Swan, Marietta curled her fingers into fists, and crossing her hands over each other, she jerked them both to the side, slightly upward, opening her fingers at the same time. It was the sign for “escape.”
Subtly, Yellow Swan nodded, making the gesture for “tonight?”
Marietta inclined her head, and Yellow Swan replied with the sign for “good.”
Together, the women smiled.
Gazing up at the Seven Brothers, Grey Coyote realized that dawn was only a few hours away. It was the time of night for which he had been patiently waiting. Soon the darkest hour would be upon them. It would be then he would rescue the women.
Grey Coyote had followed the boat carrying his wife.
He had watched it; he had waited. But he had not acted to take Marietta away yet, mostly because in his own mind, he had realized that perhaps this was the opportunity his wife had wished for.
Hadn’t she talked often and long enough about returning to St. Louis?
Indeed, if this were what she craved, Grey Coyote would let her go, for it was not in his nature to hold her against her will. If the curse were to be more difficult to break because he had allowed her to leave, then so be it.
But in watching their camp closely this night, he had witnessed Marietta make the sign for escape—tonight. Seeing those gestures, Grey Coyote’s heart had broken free. Indeed, it had soared.
His wife would rather flee than continue down the path which would take her to St. Louis, even though, for the length of time he had known her, she had talked of little else. Had Marietta finally come to realize that, no matter the circumstances, they belonged together?
It appeared to be so.
Shrewdly, Grey Coyote set his plans, awaiting his moment to act, though he had certainly not been idle in the time intervening. Stealing up close to each man this very evening, Grey Coyote had taken their weapons, one by one. It had been a necessary precaution, but it was also a form of revenge.
Now, advancing noiselessly toward his wife, Grey Coyote placed his hand over her mouth, a safeguard in case he startled her into crying out. Bringing his face to hers, he settled his lips over hers.
Immediately, her eyes popped open. She stared, and he couldn’t help but grin at her, watching as her countenance slowly changed from surprise to enchantment. Ah, how he loved this woman.
He placed his finger to his lips, then taking out his knife, he slipped its blade between the ropes that bound her hands. He did the same with her feet, then repeated the procedure with Yellow Swan.
Quite naturally, both women rubbed their wrists, but Grey Coyote, with a sharp sign, cautioned them to cease all action.
Movement, he reminded them with a frown, would send out those ever-expanding air waves.
And if he were to secure their escape, they would need to affect their desertion with as little motion as possible.
Marietta nodded.
Taking her hand in his and bringing it to his lips, he kissed her fingers gently and mouthed, “You must remove your dress and petticoats if we are to leave here without notice.”
Again Marietta nodded, and without even a small comment or protest, began to undo the buttons of her dress.
Next, Grey Coyote crept toward Yellow Swan, and with a series of signs, asked her to help Marietta.
But Marietta seemed to have misunderstood, for she reached out for Grey Coyote’s fingers, and bringing them to her lips, she mouthed, “Shouldn’t Yellow Swan also remove her dress?”
Grey Coyote shook his head.
“Why not?” asked Marietta.
Taking up a handful of Yellow Swan’s dress, Grey Coyote made the signs for “buckskin,” “tear,” then “resist.”
Yellow Swan meanwhile had crept toward Marietta, and with two sets of hands working over Marietta’s dress, the chore was soon done.
His wife had shed her outer garment, her petticoats and chemise.
That it left her sitting in no more than leggings, drawers and corset was becoming to him a common sight.
However, the dress was not cached or thrown away. The dress, the petticoats and chemise were all laid out over the ground. Taking up the ropes that had bound his wife, Grey Coyote tied them to the clothing.
This done, they gradually crept away from the camp. Once out of sight, Grey Coyote ushered the women into a grove of tightly packed willow trees. Here they would hide.
Once more, bringing Marietta’s fingers to his lips, he mouthed, “You are both to stay here while I backtrack, so that I may erase our passage. You are not to do anything or say anything until I return. Do you understand?”
She nodded, and he kissed her again before he turned away.
Sneaking back into the river boat encampment, Grey Coyote took up the weapons he had confiscated earlier, arranging the arsenal into a neat pattern next to Marietta’s dress. If the design gave all the appearance of creating the English word “fools,” so be it.
Noiselessly, Grey Coyote slipped back to the willows, where for a moment, he held his wife in his arms. Then, with one more kiss, they were on their way.