never be allowed to get near her again.
Surely she would not want to go there after she discovered the truth about her husband’s death.
The only person she had left to care about was her daughter. And Dorey was lost in the swamp.
Lavinia was lying somewhere between life and death because of the young braves who had made plans to abduct a white child
for their own entertainment. When he and Joshua and the boys had reached the tree house earlier that evening, they had found
it empty. Somehow their prisoner had escaped.
He would make sure Running Bear and Deer Shadow understood the wrong they had done, but his main concern now was seeing that
Lavinia was alright, and finding the lost child.
Tomorrow he would resume searching for the daughter named Dorey. He would make certain many canoes of warriors were sent out
to hunt for her, and he would instruct some of these warriors to go on land and search there, too.
He did not want to think that Dorey might have been swallowed up by the treachery of the Everglades.
He would not think of that possibility. He would believe that the child would be found, just as he believed that his shaman
would work a miracle on the child’s mother.
He sat quietly by as Shining Soul continued to minister to Lavinia’s wound. As he watched he was convinced that this woman
was the loveliest on this earth, and she deserved far better than what life had thus far handed her.
She deserved to be happy.
She deserved to have her daughter with her again.
She deserved a husband who would never let her down, in any respect.
And she deserved to see the man who had killed her husband dead.
Wolf Dancer had assigned himself her protector, and he would not let her down.
Now if only she would survive to accept him as such!
Chapter Fifteen
There is a fullness of all things,
Even of sleep and of love.
—Homer
Dorey stood at the door of the garita. She had been awakened by a commotion in the village. Afraid that it might be something that would put her in danger, she had
crept to the door and peered outside.
The moon had slid behind clouds just as she looked out, making it almost impossible to see.
But the glow from the huge outdoor fire had at least given her a view of a tall Indian carrying a woman to a lodge.
She had seen others, as well, but it was too dark to make anyone out.
She could only conclude that someone in the village had been injured, or had become ill.
Perhaps the hut the woman had been carried to was the home of the village doctor, or the wife of the man carrying her.
The one thing that puzzled Dorey was that when the Indian carried the woman past the huge fire, it had looked as though her
skin and hair were pale.
But Dorey had quickly discounted that impression, for she knew, from having heard it said, that no whites were welcome at
the Seminole village on Mystic Island.
That was what frightened her. When she made herself known to the inhabitants, which she knew she must do tomorrow, since she
had no idea how to get back to her home, how would she be treated?
Would she be sent away with no guidance as to which way to go?
There were so many waterways through the swamp, she was afraid that one of them might lead her into even more dangerous territory
than this Indian village. Was she going to die, alone and afraid, amid the Everglades?
Tears of regret filled her eyes. Why had she recklessly traveled so much farther than her mother ever allowed?
Dorey hung her head, wiped her eyes, and went back to hide inside the food hut again.
She curled up in the warm pelts and blankets that she had found in the garita. She gathered them all around her, shivering when she recalled that more than one mouse had come up and sniffed at the blankets
while she was lying there.
She had to place a hand to her mouth to stifle a scream when she had seen a mouse dreadfully close to her face. When the moon
was not hidden behind clouds, she had seen the mouse’s beady
Surely she would not want to go there after she discovered the truth about her husband’s death.
The only person she had left to care about was her daughter. And Dorey was lost in the swamp.
Lavinia was lying somewhere between life and death because of the young braves who had made plans to abduct a white child
for their own entertainment. When he and Joshua and the boys had reached the tree house earlier that evening, they had found
it empty. Somehow their prisoner had escaped.
He would make sure Running Bear and Deer Shadow understood the wrong they had done, but his main concern now was seeing that
Lavinia was alright, and finding the lost child.
Tomorrow he would resume searching for the daughter named Dorey. He would make certain many canoes of warriors were sent out
to hunt for her, and he would instruct some of these warriors to go on land and search there, too.
He did not want to think that Dorey might have been swallowed up by the treachery of the Everglades.
He would not think of that possibility. He would believe that the child would be found, just as he believed that his shaman
would work a miracle on the child’s mother.
He sat quietly by as Shining Soul continued to minister to Lavinia’s wound. As he watched he was convinced that this woman
was the loveliest on this earth, and she deserved far better than what life had thus far handed her.
She deserved to be happy.
She deserved to have her daughter with her again.
She deserved a husband who would never let her down, in any respect.
And she deserved to see the man who had killed her husband dead.
Wolf Dancer had assigned himself her protector, and he would not let her down.
Now if only she would survive to accept him as such!
Chapter Fifteen
There is a fullness of all things,
Even of sleep and of love.
—Homer
Dorey stood at the door of the garita. She had been awakened by a commotion in the village. Afraid that it might be something that would put her in danger, she had
crept to the door and peered outside.
The moon had slid behind clouds just as she looked out, making it almost impossible to see.
But the glow from the huge outdoor fire had at least given her a view of a tall Indian carrying a woman to a lodge.
She had seen others, as well, but it was too dark to make anyone out.
She could only conclude that someone in the village had been injured, or had become ill.
Perhaps the hut the woman had been carried to was the home of the village doctor, or the wife of the man carrying her.
The one thing that puzzled Dorey was that when the Indian carried the woman past the huge fire, it had looked as though her
skin and hair were pale.
But Dorey had quickly discounted that impression, for she knew, from having heard it said, that no whites were welcome at
the Seminole village on Mystic Island.
That was what frightened her. When she made herself known to the inhabitants, which she knew she must do tomorrow, since she
had no idea how to get back to her home, how would she be treated?
Would she be sent away with no guidance as to which way to go?
There were so many waterways through the swamp, she was afraid that one of them might lead her into even more dangerous territory
than this Indian village. Was she going to die, alone and afraid, amid the Everglades?
Tears of regret filled her eyes. Why had she recklessly traveled so much farther than her mother ever allowed?
Dorey hung her head, wiped her eyes, and went back to hide inside the food hut again.
She curled up in the warm pelts and blankets that she had found in the garita. She gathered them all around her, shivering when she recalled that more than one mouse had come up and sniffed at the blankets
while she was lying there.
She had to place a hand to her mouth to stifle a scream when she had seen a mouse dreadfully close to her face. When the moon
was not hidden behind clouds, she had seen the mouse’s beady
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