Savage Flames (14 page)

But when she caught sight of the many beautiful shells that lay everywhere on the white sand, she gasped in pleasure. She
was glad when he beached the canoe and handed her the basket.

Together they walked among the shells, some of which were actually in the shape of beads. And there were so many varied colors
to choose from.

“These shells have floated in from the ocean, up the river on the tide,” Wolf Dancer said, pointing to one shell and then
another.

“Please tell me about these different shells,” Lavinia said, glad that full strength had returned to her legs so that she
could enjoy these special moments with the man she loved. “Each one is beautiful in its own way.”

“Let me see if I can find the shells we use to make wampum,” Wolf Dancer said, stopping and kneeling to run his fingers through
the sand, unearthing several more shells that the sand had hidden from view. “The white wampum beads come from the inner spiral
of this shell.” He held it out so she could see.

“The purple wampum is taken from the shiny inside of a hard-shell clam. Whether purple or white, the shell beads are ground
smooth and then used to decorate bracelets or belts. My people prize them as a sign of wealth.”

“There is so much to learn,” she murmured. “But I do find it interesting.”

She began earnestly gathering shells, feeling utterly content. Wolf Dancer had told her more than once that she was safe with
him, so she allowed herself to relax completely.

“Wolf Dancer, for the first time since I left my parents’ home to be a wife, I feel free, and oh, so alive,” she murmured.
“I cared for my husband, but so often I felt trapped in that huge white mansion. I was only able to get out of the house to
spend time in my garden, which I loved, and to go into town occasionally for some brief shopping expeditions. But I never
traveled with my husband when he left to tend to business, and he was sometimes gone for weeks upon weeks. Yes, I did feel
truly trapped.”

Wolf Dancer was uneasy about her comment on being free, that she was so happy in her newfound freedom.

Did that mean she would never be happy when married? Perhaps she would not even want to marry again.

He had to change her mind if that was the case, for he now knew that life would never be the way as he dreamed if he could
not share it with her.

After her basket was brimful of shells andbeads, they stopped and sat on the sand beside the water.

They watched all sorts of birds and butterflies soaring here and there. Lavinia found herself studying their intriguing, colorful
markings.

“I have never been as happy as I feel now,” Lavinia murmured, setting her basket on the sand.

Wolf Dancer reached for her and drew her into his arms. He kissed her passionately, but Lavinia stiffened in his arms when
she heard a noise close by.

Her eyes flew open and she saw something over Wolf Dancer’s shoulder that terrified her.

“An alligator!” she screamed, just as the beast moved quickly through the water toward them.

Wolf Dancer relived another time, another alligator, another woman that he had loved with all his heart but hadn’t been able
to save. He couldn’t allow it to happen again.

Lavinia felt frozen to the ground as she watched Wolf Dancer leap up and grab a large, thick, sharp stick that lay close by.
He put himself between Lavinia and the alligator, and just as the beast charged out of the water, its mouth wide open, Wolf
Dancer ran toward it and rammed the stick down its throat. The alligator quickly sank into the water, and was soon dead.

Wolf Dancer hurried back to Lavinia. He grabbed her up into his arms. “I am sorry for having put you in harm’s way when I
have vowed so often to keep you safe,” he said, holding her close.

She was still so stunned by his bravery, she couldn’t speak. When she was finally able to findwords, she clung to him and
thanked him over and over again.

“No thanks are ever necessary when I do things for you,” Wolf Dancer said fervently. “But I would truly like to kiss you again.”

She smiled sweetly at him, twined her arms around his neck, then kissed him.

When he returned the kiss, she felt as though she were floating above herself, it was so beautiful and sweet.

She had finally, truly found her place in this world, and she would never let anything or anyone stand in the way of this
newfound happiness.

Especially not Hiram Price.

Yet she could not help wondering what Hiram was thinking now that he knew she was gone, and of her own free will.

She would do all that she could to make certain he had no opportunity to find her and destroy her world all over again.

Chapter Twenty-five

My soul thirsteth for thee,

My flesh longeth for thee.

—Old Testament, Psalms 63:1

The stench of rum was heavy in the air of his study as Hiram paced the floor, an almost empty bottle clutched tightly in his
right hand.

He had spent a good portion of the night drinking and trying to make decisions that seemed to elude him.

It was morning now and he could hear the remaining slaves already dutifully in the field, humming and singing as though there
wasn’t anything wrong.

But Hiram knew that there was plenty wrong. His whole world had been turned upside down, and all because of his crazy doings.
When he had killed his brother, he had expected everything to finally go his way, but nothing had turned out right.

Lavinia had fled with her daughter and Twila to parts unknown. Although she had thought she was being clever by pretending
to be ill after her husband’s death, Hiram had known all along that she had stayed in her room to avoid coming face-to-face
with him.

He had hoped she would accept Hiram as part of her life and forget her ill feelings toward him.

But he knew now that he’d only been fooling himself when he’d thought she might actually marry him after her husband was gone.
Instead, she had gone to great lengths to avoid him.

He now knew that it was more important to her to escape him than to live in a beautiful mansion with all the luxuries she
would ever desire. She had fled without claiming any of this as hers.

He expected that she was even now at her favorite aunt’s house outside Atlanta. She had spoken fondly of this aunt often.

Hiram thought he could go to Atlanta and plead with Lavinia to return home, and promise not to broach the idea of marriage.
He could say she could run the house as she saw fit. He could tell her he just didn’t want to live alone.

But he had his pride and would not beg that woman for anything.

He smiled wickedly.

Yes, he would have all of this to himself, and be happy for it.

That meant if he wanted a wife, he would have to go looking for one, and today was the first day of his search.

He would make certain the slaves were happy enough in their surroundings to remain while he was gone, even though there was
no overseer. He had never given one thought to the slaves’ happiness before.

But now?

Now they were all he had to keep his plantation going. The tobacco fields were all but bare now, with the harvest almost complete.
After he took the tobacco to market and got paid for it, he would decide whether or not to stay in that business, or sell
the slaves off and try something else.

He would no longer think of Lavinia or the fact that she seemed to have chosen to give up everything in order to escape him!

“I don’t need her,” he grumbled. He slammed the bottle down on his desk. “With my money, I can get any lady I want.”

But he had one more thing to do before heading into town. He intended to put up posters letting the local women know that
he was looking for a wife. There were many widowed women, and often they were left penniless.

Frowning, and cursing beneath his breath, Hiram took the stairs two at a time. When he reached the second-floor landing, he
didn’t pause before going into Lavinia’s bedroom.

Just seeing her belongings made him angry all over again. He felt deeply hurt, too. He had wanted Lavinia as far back as when
they were teenagers in Atlanta.

But his brother, with his sculpted face and suave manners, had been the lucky one. And now his brother was gone and Hiram
still didn’t have Lavinia.

He couldn’t help it. Wanting her was eating away at him like a cancer. Even losing his eye had not been as devastating as
knowing that he would never have the woman he loved, and had even killed for.

He went into a sudden fit of rage.

He went to Lavinia’s chifforobe and grabbed an armful of her clothes from it. He tore up what he could with his bare hands,
then took scissors from her sewing basket and destroyed the rest. He continued until none of her beautiful clothes were left
in one piece.

His heart pounding, his jaw tight, he went to a window and threw the shutters open, raised the window, then took the tattered
remains and pitched them from the window to the ground below, all the while shouting obscenities.

He stopped and stiffened when he saw that the slaves had stopped working and were looking up at him with wide, frightened
eyes. Surely they had heard his rantings and seen him throwing the clothes out the window.

“What’cha lookin’ at?” he shouted. He doubled a hand into a tight fist and waved it above his head. “Get back to work. Do
you hear? Or I’ll bring my whip out and set your skin aflame with it!”

They immediately went back to work, and he began to regret threatening them. There was the harvest to consider. He certainly
couldn’t do it all by himself.

But he still couldn’t contain his anger. He broke everything in the room that could be broken, then ran down the stairs.

Dripping wet with sweat, and stinking from the mixture of perspiration and rum, he continued his rampage throughout the house.
He broke anythingthat reminded him of Lavinia…all the things she had loved and enjoyed.

Even though he didn’t expect her to return and see what he’d done, he still got pleasure from doing it. When he was finished,
he stood back and surveyed the destruction.

He wiped sweat from his brow with the palm of a hand, smiling when he saw just how far he had gone. Nothing Lavinia had loved
was left intact.

Nothing!

And after he found a woman he could bring into this house as his wife, he’d let her choose pretty things of her own to decorate
the rooms.

Wanting to get on with finding a bride, Hiram went to the kitchen and poured some fresh, cold water from a pitcher into a
basin. He splashed his face with it, then straightened his back and ran his fingers through his hair.

He hurried to the gun cabinet in the front hall, grabbed his rifle, and ran outside with it. He already had his pistol holstered
at the right side of his waist, and had sheathed a knife at the other side.

He planned to go to the newspaper office in the nearest town and persuade them to print some posters that he could tack up
here and there in town. Surely, in time some pretty, lonely thing would see one of those posters and come to investigate.
He knew that once she saw the huge plantation house, the fields and slaves, he would have himself a bride.

The woman wouldn’t even care that he had onlyone eye and that he sweated “like a pig,” as some had described it.

Yep, the woman would see how she would be coddled as his wife. He would give her all the pretty clothes her little heart desired!

He hurried outside to the fields. He told each group of slaves that he would be leaving, but he wouldn’t be gone for long.

“I trust you,” he said, looking from one to the other. “I depend on your being here when I return.” Wide-eyed, fear in the
depths of their dark eyes, they all nodded.

“Don’t disappoint me,” Hiram said over his shoulder as he hurried to the stable. “You’ll get good food, more’n you’ve ever
seen before, once this harvest is completed. You won’t regret being loyal to Hiram Price.”

He went inside the stable, prepared his white mare for riding, then swung himself into the saddle and rode away from the plantation.

“I’m going to find myself a lady!” he cried to the heavens. “And to hell with Lavinia!”

Chapter Twenty-six

Thou shalt love and be loved by me, forever;

A hand like this hand shall throw open

The gates of new life to thee!

—Robert Browning

Although exhausted from her first full day of activity, Lavinia sat beside Wolf Dancer beneath a beautiful sky bright with
a dazzling array of stars and a full moon.

The night air had become chilly, so Lavinia held a blanket snugly around her shoulders, while Wolf Dancer was wrapped in his
own.

The fire burned brightly in the center of the village. Beside it sat many mothers and fathers as they watched their children
at play while they awaited Spirit Talker’s arrival.

Food had been shared by the fire, and much talk and laughter. The children had played all afternoon and into the early evening.

Lavinia was glad that Dorey and Twila fit in with the Seminole children so well. They had forgiven the two young braves for
what they’d done to Dorey, and the four were fast friends now.

Lavinia watched the children playing a game with sticks.

“That is called a whirl and catch game,” Wolf Dancer said as he leaned closer to Lavinia.

He was filled with love for this woman, far more than he had ever thought possible.

They had shared a wonderful day today. The basket of shells they had collected sat in his house waiting to be made into necklaces.

They had shared more than one kiss before returning to the village, but they had not made love, although his body ached to
have her.

But he felt it was best to wait until she was stronger before making love. And he wanted to be certain that she felt the same
way as he.

As difficult as it might be, he would not initiate lovemaking tonight after the stories had been told. Just by looking into
her eyes, he could see how tired she was from all the activities of the day.

She was only sitting beside him now for her daughter’s sake. More than once since he and Lavinia had returned from their outing,
Dorey had voiced her eagerness to hear the stories with the other children tonight.

Once the stories were told, Wolf Dancer would take Lavinia to his home and tuck her snugly in her bed. He expected her to
be asleep before he left the room to go to his own bed.

One day soon he hoped they would share the same bed as man and wife.

“It looks like such a simple game the children are playing, but they seem to be enjoying it,” Lavinia said. She smiled at
Wolf Dancer. “Will you explainit to me? I want to understand it in case Dorey talks to me about it later.”

“Whirl and catch is a favorite game with the boys and girls,” Wolf Dancer said, watching the children as Lavinia listened
to his explanation. “It is played with ten short sticks. As you see, the sticks are thrown in the air, one at a time, and
each child tries to catch them. The person who catches the most wins the game.”

Lavinia mentally counted how many Dorey had already caught and noticed that her daughter was disappointed when at the end
of the game, she had only two sticks.

Wolf Dancer had also seen how few Dorey had caught. “She will learn to be faster and catch more sticks,” he said. He now watched
Twila, who had caught four of the sticks and was giggling because she had outdone her friend.

Wolf Dancer was glad when Dorey laughed good-naturedly, accepting that she was not as fast as the others, not even Twila.

This demonstrated her unselfish nature to him. It was a trait loved and admired by all.

Lavinia sighed. The air was still filled with the aromas of the food that had been cooked earlier by the women. She was full,
yet comfortably so, and she felt sleepy. She hoped she could stay awake until the stories were all told.

She still tasted the bear ribs she’d eaten for dinner. She had hesitated before taking her first bite, for she had never eaten
bear meat before.

But she’d found that it tasted better than any other meat she had ever eaten. She had also enjoyed the hot corn cakes that
had been covered with a jelly she was told was called
conte.

When she had asked one of the women how this jelly was made, the woman had eagerly responded that it was made from the roots
of a wild rose bush, which grew on Mystic island. The roots were carefully ground into a pulp, to which water was added. The
paste was then air dried and saved for later use. The woman explained that she mixed the powdered root with water and honey
to make the delicious jelly.

Lavinia planned to make her own
conte
one day, to show Wolf Dancer that she could be a good cook. She had just never had to cook while living first with her parents
in Atlanta, and then with her wealthy husband.

But now, away from all of those luxuries, she would enjoy learning such womanly skills.

At that moment an elderly man stepped from his home near the central fire. His gray hair dragged on the ground behind him
as he walked to a small platform, upon which were thick bear pelts.

The children scattered and found their places sitting on blankets that had been spread earlier.

Some mothers had given their children netting to tuck around themselves, so they would not be bitten by mosquitoes.

Lavinia had to smile when she saw Dorey and Twila sharing mosquito netting with the other girls. Running Bear and Deer Shadow
were sitting nearthem with braves of their own age, who chose not to use netting.

Lavinia could only surmise that they had refused the netting because they thought it might make them look weak in the eyes
of the girls.

“The Spirit Talker is such an old man,” Lavinia whispered to Wolf Dancer as the storyteller made himself comfortable on the
platform. It was raised high above, so that everyone would have to look up at him as he told his stories.

“Most Spirit Talkers are elderly, for they must have lived a long life in order to have knowledge of all things,” Wolf Dancer
said just loud enough for Lavinia to hear. “Our Spirit Talker is a legendary storyteller, and all listen to him in respectful
silence.” “What is his true name?” Lavinia asked, watching the elderly man as he tucked his buckskin robe around him, his
legs folded beneath him on the platform.

She was fascinated by his long, long hair and watched as the Spirit Talker wound it into a tall bun atop his head, securing
it with short sticks stuck into it.

“He was born with the name Star Gazer. That is because his mother gave birth to him outside her home beneath the stars. She
wanted to be sure that when he opened his eyes for the first time, he would first see the stars,” Wolf Dancer explained. “His
mother had had a vision of her firstborn being the village Spirit Talker when he grew into adulthood. She felt that the name
Star Gazer fit the child whose life was already mapped out for him.”

“What if he had not wanted to be the storyteller when he grew into a man?” Lavinia asked. “What then would his mother have
done?”

“There was no question that he would be as his mother willed him to be,” Wolf Dancer said. “You see, it was said that Star
Gazer felt the calling himself the first time he heard stories being told around the night fire by our people’s storyteller.”

“What happened to that man?” Lavinia asked softly, hoping she wasn’t disturbing anyone around her with her curiosity about
Wolf Dancer’s people.

“The one who was our people’s Spirit Talker was already elderly, yet he lived long enough for Star Gazer to reach the age
that he could take over his duties,” Wolf Dancer said. “You see, each Spirit Talker must do his best to retell the stories
as close to the original version as possible. It is a great responsibility, and the best storytellers are greatly admired.”

“It sounds like he might be as much admired and loved as the village chief,” Lavinia said, hoping she wasn’t offending Wolf
Dancer.

“A storyteller and chief are both loved and admired, but never in the same way,” Wolf Dancer said.

He was not insulted by Lavinia’s comparison, for he, too, would have wondered the same were he not Seminole.

“Star Gazer has devoted his life to the Wind Clan, just as I have, and for that he has earned our people’s love,” he said.
“He keeps our history and traditions alive. But a chief is responsible for the future of his clan. Through prayer, sacrifice
and careful thought, he guides the lives of his people. Thestoryteller prays to the Master of Breath, the same as a chief,
but there is one difference. If necessary, the chief must be willing to lay down his life if such be necessary for the survival
of his people, whereas nothing akin to that is ever required of a Spirit Talker.”

“You…would…sacrifice yourself?” Lavinia asked, paling at the thought.

“Yes, if it meant the survival of my people,” Wolf Dancer said thickly.

When he saw how Lavinia’s face drained of color, he smiled and reached beneath the blanket, taking her the hand. “No sacrifice
will have to be made here on Mystic Island, so do not fret, my woman, that our future together might be endangered,” he said.

“Our…future…?” Lavinia asked, her heart racing at the implication of what he had just said.

“Our future as man and wife,” Wolf Dancer said, and noted that her eyes widened even more. “You will marry me, will you not?”

Lavinia was stunned speechless by the sudden question, although she had dreamed of this moment after realizing the nature
of their feelings for one another.

“You will become my wife?” Wolf Dancer repeated, placing a hand beneath her chin and directing her eyes to his. “I want to
protect not only you but also your daughter. I want to love you forever.” Lavinia suddenly became aware that they were sitting
among others. She realized that the Spirit Talker was beginning his first tale of the evening.

She looked quickly around to see if anyone had heard Wolf Dancer’s proposal of marriage. When she saw that he had spoken so
quietly that only she had heard, she turned and smiled into his eyes.

“I will gladly become your wife,” she said softly. “Although we have only known one another a short time, I knew right away
that I had fallen in love with you. I think it happened the first time I saw you resting in the tree near my house. I dreamed
of you often after that.”

She didn’t mention the white panther, and doubted she would ever question him about it. The creature was too mysterious to
talk about, and she felt that if there was some association between him and the panther, he might rather not speak of it.

If he ever wished to talk to her about these mysteries, she wanted him to know that he could tell her anything. Even if he
revealed something she could never understand, she would not love him less for it. “We will marry soon,” Wolf Dancer said,
still holding her hand as they turned their attention to the tale being told.

Lavinia at first found it hard to concentrate on anything but what they had just agreed upon.

But the more she listened to the Spirit Talker, the more engrossed she became. He made his story so interesting, she couldn’t
help listening intently, and marveled at his ability.

After a short while, the Spirit Talker drew the first story to a close and started another one. It was about a grandmother
spider who stole the sun.

Lavinia settled in more closely to Wolf Dancer. Both now snuggled under the same blanket as they listened together to the
words of the elderly storyteller.

“When the world was young, there was blackness on one side,” the Spirit Talker said as his eyes moved from child to child.
“Nobody on that side of the world could see beyond the nose on his face. One day Mother spider suggested that their new world
needed light. Possum said he would go to the other side, where there was light, and steal some, because those people there
were too selfish to share it with the world. Fox said he would go. His tail was thick enough to hide some of that light and
bring it home to everyone on this side of the world. Possum frowned at Fox. He wanted to be the one to go and get the sun,
and so he tried. When he got to the other side, he found the sun high up in a tree. Possum climbed up and grabbed a piece
of the sun, which he quickly hid in his tail. But he soon discovered that the light was very hot. It burned all the fur off
his tail. From that time on, the possum’s tail has been bare. He went home with his burned tail and without the light. Mother
spider said that she would go and get the light. She grabbed a pot and then, carrying the pot, spun a web that reached to
the other side of the world. Then she crawled on that web until she was able to grab some of the light and put it in her pot.
Then she carried it home along the path of her web. Everyone celebrated, for their side of the world finally had light!”

The children applauded and asked for more, but Spirit Talker said that was enough stories until the next time. Then he left
and returned to his home.

Dorey ran over to Lavinia. “Mama, did you hear the story?” she asked excitedly. “Wasn’t it interesting?” “Yes, dear, I found
it quite fascinating,” Lavinia murmured, smoothing a lock of her daughter’s hair back from her eyes.

“Mama, Twila wants me to stay the night with her,” Dorey blurted out. “May I? Joshua said it was alright.”

“I see nothing wrong with that,” Lavinia said, smiling at her daughter’s excitement. “Enjoy yourself, Dorey.”

“I shall, Mama,” Dorey said, her eyes bright. “Thank you.”

Lavinia watched Dorey run over and take Twila by the hand. Then the two girls skipped toward Joshua’s is and Twila’s hut.

“I think you need to go to bed,” Wolf Dancer said, removing the blanket from around their shoulders. He gazed into her weary
eyes. “Did you do too much in one day?”

“It was a wonderful day,” Lavinia said as she slowly rose to her feet. “One I shall remember forever.” “I want each and every
day to be that unforgettable for you,” Wolf Dancer replied. He placed an arm around her waist and walked her toward their
home, others behind them collecting their own blankets and dispersing, too.

“If I am with you, they shall be,” Lavinia said with a shy smile.