Legacy

Chapter 9

Luc made breakfast for them before they left, and gave them food and fresh water for their journey. He kept Jean’s exhausted horse and gave him one of his own, a solid young horse with strong legs that would take them as far as they needed. Jean thanked him for his kindness, and Wachiwi did the same in Sioux. And then they began the two-day trip to Fort St. Charles. It took longer than Jean expected, and they arrived on the afternoon of the third day. The trip had been long and arduous but not dangerous. The fort was familiar to him, because he had stayed there before. It was manned by French soldiers, and no one seemed surprised to see Wachiwi with him. Many men traveled with Indian women, and they directed her to the quarters set aside for Indian women. There wasn’t the remotest possibility that she could stay with Jean. She was treated like a servant or a slave. She looked unhappy when Jean came to see her that evening after having dinner with the commandant. It had been a hearty meal of roasted rabbit, prepared by a French chef, with excellent wines, delicious coffee, and a delicate dessert-and afterward the commandant’s aide handed out cigars. It was the best meal Jean had had in months.

But when he went out to see Wachiwi, he was embarrassed to see that they had served her slop in a dish like a dog. It upset him to realize she was being badly treated. It had never occurred to him that they would do that to her. And the other Indian women seemed less dignified than she did. He looked at her and tried to express how sorry he was, and she looked as though she understood. She nodded. And when the door to the women’s dormitory opened, he noticed that they slept on blankets on the floor. They weren’t treated like humans, but more like dogs, and when he saw that, he decided to move on the next day. His goal was St. Louis now, where he could get her a room in a hotel and get her properly dressed. It was another two-day ride from where they were.

He appeared at her dormitory the next day, pointed to the horse Luc had given them so she knew they were leaving, and spoke to her in French. She looked pleased, and Jean had decided that Luc was right. She needed to learn another language other than Sioux, either English or French, or ideally both. If she was going to exist in the civilized world, there were many things she had to learn. She seemed bright, and Jean thought she could. He taught her a few basic words in both languages as they rode.

There was a lot about her that intrigued him and so much more he wanted to know, about how she had grown up, what her ideas were, what she thought. He had been dazzled by her beauty from the first, but even without a common language, he sensed that she was a woman of depth, spirit, and soul.

Their pace was less frenetic, because they weren’t escaping from anyone now. They were beyond the reach of the Crow, theoretically, or even practically. Wachiwi could never go back, but she was in no danger now, except from the usual rigors of the road. They camped in the woods that night, but Jean had gotten supplies at the fort, and had brought blankets for both of them. They lay looking up at the stars, and as he thought about all that had happened and how far they had come, she quietly reached for his hand and put it over her heart. He understood that it was her way of thanking him, and he was touched. Her unwavering trust in him moved him a great deal. She was both vulnerable and strong, and she suddenly seemed very young. He was worried about what would become of her now, particularly after the poor treatment he’d seen at the fort.

He slept fitfully, and when he woke, it was still dark, there was a full moon, and he saw that she was awake. He wondered if she was frightened or sad, but there was no way he could ask her, so he gently touched her face and stroked her hair. He wanted to reassure her that everything would be all right. Whatever happened, he wanted to leave her in a safe place. They had come through a lot, and he was going to see her to a good situation somewhere, wherever that was. He was not going to abandon her now. He felt surprisingly responsible for her, a feeling he’d never had before. She was a young girl, and he was going to find a good home for her. He hoped that his cousins would be kind to her in New Orleans, and perhaps let her work for them in some capacity. Perhaps she could help take care of Angélique’s daughter’s children, or work for them in the house. There had to be somewhere where Wachiwi would fit in. He lay on his side then and smiled at her reassuringly. She lay under the blanket he had given her, smiling at him, and this time she leaned over and touched his face and then kissed him on the mouth. He hadn’t expected it, and didn’t know what to say. She had startled him totally. So he said not a word, tried to resist the tender feelings he had for her, and then kissed her back. She was all he could think of and he didn’t want to take advantage of her in any way. They were totally alone in the forest and in the world. And as they kissed, he was suddenly filled with passion and an electric current passed between them. They had been through so much and been so frightened, and now they were like two shipwrecked people on a beach. They had escaped and survived together, and neither of them was sure where to go next, other than into each other’s arms, which seemed to be the only safe place they had. Jean kissed her with a fervor he had never felt before for anyone, and she embraced him with all that she had saved and held back for her whole life. She had never dared to look a man in the eye in her own village, and now she was lost in Jean’s arms, swept away by their passion, which ignited like a fuse to which someone had put a match. He moved toward her and under her blanket without thinking, and she had taken off her dress. He saw and felt the same exquisite shape he had seen at the lake, and this time she wasn’t a mysterious stranger, she was familiar and warm and entirely his. And when they fell asleep in each other’s arms as the sun came up, there was no doubt in either of their minds that they belonged to each other now and this was meant to be. But where they would go now, and how, was still a mystery to both of them, yet to be revealed.

It was late the next day when they woke up and the sun was shining brightly. Jean looked at Wachiwi as she opened her eyes, watching her intensely for signs of remorse, and there were none. She smiled at him and opened her arms to him again, and he lost himself in the wonders of her body with all the passion and relief and joy he felt for her after the night before. This was not what he had expected or planned, and yet it seemed to be a gift they had been given. They were both laughing and smiling when they got up. They couldn’t talk about it, but they both understood what had happened. Somewhere along the way, the night before, or days or weeks before, without realizing it they had fallen in love. If he hadn’t killed Napayshni, they wouldn’t even be together, but destiny had intervened and now they were. He couldn’t help wondering if a child would come of the night before. He had seen that she was a virgin when they made love.

And now, the woman who called herself his slave was the woman he wanted to be with, whom he cared about and wanted to protect. In all his twenty-four years, he had never been in love before, but there was no question in his mind now that he was. Youthful passion on both sides had turned to love unexpectedly, and now Jean was totally, madly, passionately in love with Wachiwi, a girl from the Dakota Sioux nation, whom he had met beside a lake. It would be a story to tell their grandchildren, if they had any. He knew what he wanted to do now. He wanted to keep her with him. But first he had to make her suitable to bring into his world.

He redoubled his efforts in speaking to her in both English and French as they rode more sedately toward St. Louis. They stopped often to make love in the forest, and their coupling was pure joy. They got to St. Louis two days later, and by then she had learned several phrases in both languages and many words. She didn’t always use them correctly, but she tried ardently to please him, and she was doing surprisingly well. She learned quickly, and she looked fascinated and a little daunted when they reached the hotel, and he led his horse to the barn, and they checked in. She was amazed by their surroundings. He asked for two rooms, which seemed more respectable, and the clerk stared at Wachiwi in disapproval, but he said not a word as he handed Jean both keys. They walked up the stairs, and she followed him, as he led her into the rooms. They were only going to sleep in one; the second one was to protect her reputation. But she had none, to the people in the hotel she was just an Indian girl traveling with him, and they would have thought it a waste of a good room. True to his upbringing, Jean was noble to his core, even with a young Indian girl, and she sensed his respect.

They had dinner in the dining room of an inn that night, and Wachiwi began eating, as Luc Ferrier had taught her, with a spoon. She copied Jean when he put his napkin on his lap, and he showed her how to use a knife and fork. She speared her food with the fork, but the knife made no sense to her, and the food was complicated for her. Jean could only imagine how foreign everything must seem. But that was nothing compared to the adventure they had the next day when he took her to a dry goods store and a dressmaker and outfitted her.

He bought her several simple dresses at the dry goods store, and the dressmaker had three gowns that had never been picked up and fit Wachiwi as though they’d been made for her. There were two dresses that were suitable for dinner at his cousin’s house, four demure ones for the daytime, proper shoes that he could tell Wachiwi didn’t like, and five bonnets that looked beautiful on her. There were mysterious undergarments that she had no idea how to put on until the saleswoman showed her. She was wearing more clothes at one time than she had ever worn in her life. There were gloves, several shawls, three purses, and a fan. They had it all delivered to the hotel, and Jean was relieved that they were taking a boat to New Orleans. It would have taken several horses or a mule train to carry everything he’d bought her. The boxes were stacked in their rooms. He bought two trunks to put it all in and made arrangements for the horse to be returned to Luc.

By the end of the day, they were both exhausted, and Wachiwi spoke to him in her few words of halting French and thanked him for everything he had given her. She looked more than a little dazed, and when they got back to the hotel, she put her elkskin dress and moccasins on again and looked relieved. At least that was something she knew how to wear. She had insisted on keeping them, and she looked like the little Indian girl he had first met when he saw her in the elkskin dress again, with the deep blue porcupine quills on the front, and she touched his heart again.

He had taught her jolie robe and chaussure and chapeau that day, along with gown, bonnet, undergarment, shoes, and gloves. She knew the names for everything he had bought for her. She was slowly learning to speak to him, mostly in French, but in English too. When they ordered dinner in their rooms, she ate with a knife and fork to please him, but when he lit a cigar, she wanted to share it with him. He laughed as he let her do it, but explained that she could only do it with him. Her father had let her share his pipe with him from time to time when no one was looking, so she knew what Jean meant, and put her finger to her lips to show that it was a secret… like the dead man they had left in the bushes. Neither of them wanted to think of that again, but it was his death that had brought them together.

They made love in Jean’s bed that night, with the same passion as they had before. The love that they shared was visceral and sensual and explosive. It was something he had never known before, and that was a mystery to her. She had no words for it, and they didn’t need them. What they shared when they made love to each other was magical.

The next day, he helped her dress, and with her new trunks full of the clothes he had bought her, they boarded the keelboat to New Orleans. Wachiwi looked excited and was smiling happily. She knew of this river, but had never expected to see it. She had heard of it in the lodges. Her people called it the Great River. The trip to New Orleans was going to take three weeks, with good winds and fast currents if they were lucky, while the boat made many stops and people got off and on.

There were canoes, flatboats, barges, and other keelboats all along the river, which was teeming with activity. Wachiwi was fascinated by it and beamed at Jean. He had reserved two cabins for them to look respectable once again, as he had at the hotel. They put all her trunks in one, and slept in the other. And when she got confused, he helped her put the undergarments on and laced up her corset. He laughed as he did it, and had never had so much fun. She was horrified by how tight the corset was and made him loosen it. He couldn’t expect her to learn everything at once. Only days before she had been swimming naked in the lake where he met her, living in a Crow village, and now she was dressed like a lady, on the way to New Orleans to meet his noble cousins.

He was slightly daunted by the prospect, and mildly unnerved by the stares of people on the keelboat when they saw that he was traveling with an Indian woman. She was so beautiful that the men understood it, but the women didn’t, and turned their backs on her the moment they saw her. Jean was startled by it and hoped that people in New Orleans would be more understanding, and captivated by her beauty. She was so innocent, so delicate, and so mesmerizing that he couldn’t imagine anyone being able to resist her. He certainly couldn’t, and his nights with her for three weeks on the Mississippi were passionate beyond belief. The trip to New Orleans gave them the time they needed to get to know each other, and improve her English and French. She was so bright and eager that she made rapid strides in both.

They had passed Fort Prudhomme and Fort St. Pierre, and finally arrived in New Orleans.

Wachiwi looked particularly beautiful that day. She wore a pale blue day gown he had bought her that looked like sky next to her skin, and a matching bonnet he tied beneath her chin for her, and gloves that he helped her put on. And her undergarments were in perfect order, thanks to him. She was part child and part woman, and what he loved most about her was that she was entirely his. Not his slave, but his woman. The chieftain’s daughter. Wachiwi. The dancer. Luc had translated her name for him. When the boat reached the dock in New Orleans, he helped her off and she walked with silent grace right behind him.

They took a carriage to a guest house Jean knew on Chartres Street, with all their belongings. He wanted them to wait in a comfortable room while he sent a message to his cousins at their plantation just outside of town, explaining that he was back and had a friend with him, a young lady. He didn’t want to impose on them and assume that they could stay with them. Within two hours a note was returned to him, from his cousin’s wife, Angélique de Margerac, insisting that they come at once and give up their rooms in town. She didn’t mention the young lady, but Jean presumed that there would be a room for Wachiwi too, since he had been clear in his note that she was traveling with him. It was an unusual occurrence, but he felt sure that his cousins could accommodate them both, and would be glad to do so. Angélique’s note had been welcoming and warm.

She sent her carriage for them, an elegant French-made Berline drawn by four horses, and a separate carriage for their trunks. Jean smiled at Wachiwi as they set out for the long ride to the plantation, thinking how far they had come. He looked at her proudly, and took her hand in his own. He didn’t doubt for a moment that his cousins would fall in love with her too. It was the first time he had ever traveled anywhere with a woman, but the New Orleans Margeracs were his family, and had always been wonderfully hospitable to him. He was sure that this time would be no different.