The Way of Love

by Tracie Peterson

  Seth nodded. “Well enough. I don’t think any of the women in your family sit still for long.”

  “Except for Meg. She would sit and read all day long if she could.”

  Nancy smiled at this. Their little sister was always borrowing books from the library, even though the selection was limited. She didn’t care if it was a novel or a studious text.

  “Are you all planning to come home for Christmas?” Gabe asked before stuffing a good portion of the bread in his mouth.

  Seth shook his head. “I’m not sure. It’s hard to get away from work. A lot of folks want to straighten out legal matters at the end of the year, and this year has been no exception. Nevertheless, we hope to be there.”

  “Well, I know they’d love to see you. Clementine and I are both planning to go back.” Gabe turned and grinned at the redheaded woman beside him. “Especially now.”

  Nancy looked up. “Why especially now?”

  Clementine’s cheeks flushed as she turned to Gabe and grinned. “Because we’re engaged.”

  “You are?” Seth looked at Nancy. “Did you know about this?”

  She shook her head. “Not at all.”

  “I stopped by your folks’ place before coming to Portland. I asked your father’s permission to marry Clementine, and he eagerly agreed. He was so quick about it,” Gabe said, giving his bride-to-be an endearing glance, “that I feared perhaps something was wrong with her that I hadn’t yet learned.”

  Seth shook his head, smiling. “No, I’m sure it was their desire to have another Armistead in the family. No one has a better name in the community than your family. Your folks’ reputation alone would be enough reason to want her to marry you.”

  Gabe’s brows came together. “Hey, I was kind of hoping it was because they wanted me as a son-in-law.”

  Seth laughed. “I’m sure it was. I know I’m delighted. Brother and sister married to brother and sister. That will simplify things. Our children will be double cousins.”

  Nancy sipped her soup and listened to them go on about the future. She was thrilled by the news and could clearly see how happy Gabe was about the situation.

  “Where will you live?” Seth asked.

  “I talked to the family about that. Pa wants me to take charge of the sawmill here in Portland, so I guess we’ll be living here.”

  Nancy was delighted at this prospect. Over the last few months, she and Clementine had renewed their childhood friendship, and Nancy hated the idea of losing her so soon. “How wonderful! I’m so happy to hear that. I will enjoy having you close by. Perhaps we can attend events together.”

  “When will this wedding take place?” Seth’s question caused all gazes to turn toward the happy couple.

  “We neither one feel the need for a long engagement,” Gabe replied, looking to Clementine for her confirmation.

  She nodded. “We thought maybe in the spring. Perhaps May. We just figured a small collection of family in Oregon City would suffice.”

  “Once all of our family gathers in one place, it won’t be small by any means,” Gabe teased.

  “That sounds wonderful.” Nancy calculated quickly. “That should give us plenty of time to create a beautiful wedding dress and veil.”

  Clementine seemed surprised. “Are you offering to help do that?”

  “I am.” Nancy smiled and passed the platter of bread around again. “It’s the least I can do for my dear friend. We’ll start planning out what you want immediately. I’m sure Mrs. Weaver would be happy to help as well. She’s quite talented with a needle.”

  “I’d like to help too,” Faith said. Until now she’d been rather quiet. “I’m not that gifted at sewing, but I’m sure I can help in some way.”

  “Of course.” Clementine couldn’t seem to stop smiling. “The more, the merrier.”

  That night as Faith took inventory of her new room, she sighed in satisfaction to find her things were in order. Seth had just removed the last of the trunks and crates, and the room looked even larger than before. It was certainly larger than the room she had shared with three other girls down in Salem.

  Faith went to the desk that stood beneath one of two windows. Atop it sat the black doctor’s bag her parents had given her. She ran her hand over the soft leather and smiled. She was doing what she wanted to do. She was studying to become a doctor so she could truly help people. Perhaps one day she would work on or near the reservation and offer her services to the Native people. But as much as this appealed to her, she couldn’t help feeling a little envious of her cousin Gabe and his engagement.

  All of her life, she had longed for someone to love that way. But from the time she’d been old enough to share such thoughts with her mother, Faith had had to face the very real situation of her circumstances. It was illegal for her to marry a white man. She was half Indian, and such marriages were forbidden.

  “But what if I just break the law?” she’d once asked her mother.

  “Would you want to put the person you love at risk with the law? Would you sacrifice their well-being because of your selfish desires? If so, that isn’t love.”

  Faith had carried that conversation close to her heart. She knew her birth—her very existence—had come from cruel circumstances. It wasn’t her fault that it had happened, but it was a part of who she was. She couldn’t change it and was just fortunate that she could pass for white, or the entirety of her world would be different.

  She looked again at the black bag and thought about her previous conversation with Nancy. God did call many people to remain single. If that was His calling for her, then Faith would accept it and move forward.

  Running her hand along the side of the bag, she smiled again. “This is where my future will be. This is who I am and who I will continue to be. It will be enough. It must be enough.”

  CHAPTER 2

  I’m so glad you decided to travel to Oregon City with us,” Clementine told Faith. “Gabe always finds someone to go off and talk to. I swear he’s never met a stranger.”

  Faith laughed. “I remember that about him and his brother. In fact, I think most of the family was that way except Nancy. She always kept to herself. Especially after their youngest brother died.”

  “I know. We were good friends, but she changed after that.” Clementine looked over the boat’s railing at the Willamette River below. “I missed her joy so much. I’m glad to see it’s returned.”

  “Your brother did that.” Before Faith could say more, she heard a scuffle. It seemed to be coming from the deck above them. “Sounds like a fight.” She tucked her black bag under one arm and moved toward the stairs. Where there were fights, there were usually injuries.

  “Faith, wait. Maybe you shouldn’t go without Gabe.”

  “I don’t have time to chase down Gabe. Someone could be hurt.”

  When she stepped onto the upper deck, she could see that she was right. A bearded, dark-haired man clutched his forearm while two other men held back a big, burly man. A bloody knife lay at the feet of the large man, and an old Indian man sat on a straight-backed chair just outside the wheelhouse.

  “A man shouldn’t have to work on the same boat as a dirty Injun,” the large man said.

  “You knew I had people of color working for me when you hired on,” the bearded man replied.

  “Yes, but not Injuns.”

  “I’m the captain, and I decide who works for me and who doesn’t. As it happens, this man has more right to be here than you do. He’s worked for me for many years.” The bearded man glanced down at his wound, then back up at the men who held the big man. “Take him below until he cools off.”

  “Yes, Captain. Should we lock him up?”

  “No. He’ll settle down once he thinks about what he’s done. I’ll put you off at the next town. Whether or not I summon the police, I’ll consider this your resignation.” The captain held up his wounded arm.

  The big man grumbled but calmed as they led him away. Apparently the thought of jail
time was sobering.

  Faith raised a brow and looked at the bleeding man. “You’re the captain?”

  He grimaced. “I am. Do you have a problem, Miss . . . Missus . . . ?”

  “Miss.” Faith nodded toward his arm. “I do have a problem with that. I need to get you somewhere so I can examine your arm. It’s probably going to need stitches, from the looks of it.”

  “Are you a doctor?” he asked, his voice skeptical.

  “I am.” Faith gave him a smile. “And I’ll soon be fully certified for surgery. I’ve been helping healers and midwives since I was fifteen and have sewn up more than my fair share of cuts.” She held up her bag. “I even have all my tools with me. Now, where can we go?”

  He hesitated a moment. “I’ve never been tended by a woman doctor.”

  “And I’ve never watched a man bleed to death.” Faith smiled as though they were discussing nothing more critical than the weather. “Well, I take that back. One time when I was sixteen, Mr. Petey cut his leg with an ax. We almost lost him because of his stubborn attitude. Later, that leg festered something awful, and I thought we’d have to cut it off—”

  “Fine!” the captain interrupted. “Come into the wheelhouse, and I’ll let you take a look.” He looked a little green.

  “Faith, what’s going on?” Gabe asked as he and Clementine reached the top of the stairs.

  “There was a fight, and the captain is injured. I’m just going to treat his arm. Nothing to concern yourselves with. I’ll meet you in the saloon when I’m finished.”

  She followed the captain into the wheelhouse. He was already seated on a high stool. He had shed his coat and was rolling up his bloody sleeve.

  He turned to the young man at the wheel. “You’ve got the helm a little longer, Denny. It would seem I need some medical attention.” Turning back to Faith, he frowned. “Close the door. It’s cold enough in here.”

  “You’re cold from loss of blood. There’s quite a pool of it out there.” Faith opened her bag. “I need hot water, a basin, and some towels and washcloths. Do you have them?”

  “I do.” His tone was pained as he grabbed his arm to stem the flow of blood. “You saw the old man sitting outside the door?”

  “I did.”

  “You can ask him for those things.”

  Faith nodded and opened the door once again. She spied the old Indian man on his knees, already cleaning up the blood. “Excuse me. I wonder if you could help me.”

  He smiled up at her. “I can help. What you need?”

  “Hot water, a clean basin. Make sure it’s clean. And a couple of towels and several washcloths. I need them rather quickly.”

  The old man nodded and jumped up as if he were decades younger than his gray hair suggested. He hurried away without another word.

  Faith returned to the captain. He looked pale, and she feared he was going into shock. “Is there somewhere you can lie down? I don’t want you fainting off that chair.”

  “I won’t faint,” he growled. “Just do what you have to do.”

  The wheelhouse door opened moments later, and the Indian held up a pot of water that he’d placed inside an enamel basin. Beneath this, he had a stack of towels.

  Faith motioned him inside. “Just set it here.” She pushed aside several navigation charts.

  The old man did as she instructed, being careful to deposit the towels first. Once the hot water was secured, he pulled several folded washcloths from inside his shirt. “These clean. Towels clean too.”

  “Thank you so much.”

  “He gonna be all right?” He looked to the captain.

  “I think so, but I haven’t had a chance to examine him. Could you please step out of the room? We’re a bit crowded in here.”

  The old man nodded and left.

  She turned back to the captain, who watched her with great interest. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up.” She took one of the towels and spread it out on the countertop. “Place your arm on this but keep pinching the wound closed as you are doing until I get the water and washcloths ready.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a large bottle of the solution her aunt Grace had taught her to make. The infusion contained vinegar and herbs.

  “What’s that?” the captain asked.

  She smiled. “It’s better than soap for cleaning out a wound. I carry it everywhere.”

  Once her things were gathered and placed where she could get to them easily, Faith cleaned her needles and silk and then started cleaning the long gash in the captain’s arm. The cut was about four inches long and deeper at the point of entry.

  “What was the fight about?” she asked, hoping to keep the captain’s mind on something other than the sewing she was about to begin.

  “You’ve probably already figured that out.”

  “I heard the part about the man not wanting to work on the same boat as an Indian. He ought to be grateful he has a job. Nevertheless, his opinion seems to match up with most folks’. Sad though that may be.” She put some gauze on part of the wound to absorb the steady flow of blood.

  “So you don’t mind being on the same boat with a ‘dirty Injun’?”

  Faith smiled. If he only knew. “I didn’t think the man was particularly dirty, and a person can hardly be blamed for their heritage, although others would disagree with me on that account.” She picked up her needle and paused over the open end of the wound. “I’m going to start sewing.”

  “Then get to it.” His impatience was clear. “Denny will have us all the way to Milwaukie before you finish.”

  Faith stuck the needle into his arm. He jumped, and she smiled. “Sorry. I tried to warn you.”

  “You are an aggravating woman,” he said between clenched teeth.

  “I’ve heard that before. Usually from ill-tempered men.” She tied off the first stitch and continued to the second. “We haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Faith Kenner. And you are?”

  “Andrew Gratton. Captain of the Morning Star.” He was a little calmer.

  “I’m pleased to meet you. Honored, really.”

  “Why?”

  “Because few men would stand up for an Indian. I find that admirable.”

  “You do?” He looked surprised.

  She tied off another stitch. “I do. I believe all people have value.”

  “Most whites don’t see Indians as people.”

  Faith shrugged. “That’s their mistake.” She moved the gauze and continued her stitching. “I have to have compassion on them as well. Perhaps the man who cut you lost family to Indians. I have no way of knowing, but I do know that hate is a powerful adversary. It poses as a friend, or at least a sympathizer, but it always leads to destruction. I’m always glad when I meet a man or woman who thinks otherwise.”

  “As a Christian man, I am called upon to love others as Christ loved them.” He raised his gaze to hers.

  Faith momentarily lost herself in his dark brown eyes. The anger that was there earlier had been replaced with something else. She realized she was forgetting herself and got back to work. “My faith in God is important to me as well. I was raised with folks who shared the gospel with the Tututni people on the Rogue River. I grew up with them and had many friends there, and I believe God has given me a gift of healing. I would like to work with the Indians again one day.”

  “So you think you’re gifted?”

  “I do. I have cared for a great many patients.”

  “Ever lost one?”

  “Yes.” She thought of the dozen or so she’d attended at death. “Usually they were old, but there were a few who went well before they should have. Most of those were accidents, but there was a case or two of disease that was just too far gone.” She pushed those sad thoughts aside. “But overall, when my patients are obedient and do as I direct, they heal quite nicely.”

  “I suppose only time will tell if that’s the case.” The gruffness in his voice had returned.

  Faith smiled. The captain was so easy to tease.
“I generally get few complaints.”

  He grunted at the next stitch. “Tell me more about your upbringing. It sounds unusual.”

  “It was. We lived along the Rogue River in the south coastal region of the state. The Tututni were a peaceful people and lived in these wonderful houses they dug halfway down into the earth. I thought them such great fun. You had to crawl down a little ladder to go into the house.” She told him about the school they had for the children and the games she learned to play. “Then the Rogue River Indian wars began, and many of my friends were killed. We had to leave the area. The government moved the people to Grand Ronde Reservation, and I never saw most of them again.”

  “Why was that?”

  “They died. Some said it was from diseases brought about by living so close together. Others said the white man had poisoned them. But I think it was mostly heartbreak. Their hearts had broken and couldn’t be mended.” The memories made her sad, and Faith had to fight to hold back tears.

  “I’m sorry. That must be difficult for you.”

  “Yes, but I know those who’ve passed on went to a better place. Many of the Tututni had accepted Jesus as Savior and put their hope in Him for the future. I know I’ll see them again.”

  She worked in silence for several minutes, then tied off the final stitch.

  “There. You’ll have to be careful for a while.” She pulled a roll of bandages from her bag. “I’ll wrap the arm, but try to keep it dry, and in a couple of weeks, get someone to take out the stitches. If you have to take them out yourself, get a pair of tweezers and pull up on the knot, clip one side, and pull the thread through. But leave them in for at least ten days.” She made short work of wrapping the arm, then tore the bandage strip down the middle and tied it off in a knot. “Oh, and keep it clean.”

  “I’ll do just that, but how can I wash it off and keep it dry at the same time?”

  She smiled. “Well, you can wipe it down with this.” She handed him the bottle containing the vinegar solution. “Then dry it thoroughly. Even let it air out for a short time before rewrapping it. But only do this if it’s dirty. If you keep it wrapped and dry, you should be just fine. You should probably buy some bandages or make some.”