The Way of Love

by Tracie Peterson

  “There must be a great many injured people. I should collect my things and make myself useful.”

  “You aren’t going to be of use, because you’re one of those injured people.” Andrew shook his head. “I thought we might lose you. You bled a lot and were unconscious nearly all this time.”

  What he said made sense. She could remember waking up to snippets of conversation and momentary thought. “I remember the storm getting worse. I think I was trying to get back here. How did you find me?”

  “When I realized how bad things were, I went looking for you. I even found myself praying, which I haven’t done with any real thought of being heard in a long, long time.”

  Faith smiled. “And God heard you.”

  “He was probably only listening because it involved you.”

  That made her laugh. She shook her head and regretted the movement. She held her head between her hands, hoping the pain would fade. It didn’t. “Grief, I make a poor patient. I can’t bear being put to bed. There’s so much I need to do.”

  “Right now you must see to yourself.”

  “You’re awake. That’s good,” Ben said, looking in through the open doorway.

  “I understand you put in four strong stitches,” Faith said, dropping her hands and giving Ben a smile. “Thank you.”

  “You bled plenty, but head always bleeds more.”

  “It does indeed.”

  “You want tea to help with pain?” Ben asked.

  Faith gave a slight nod. “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

  When Ben was gone, she turned back to Andrew. “Is the town really in that bad of shape?”

  “It is. I wouldn’t even bother trying to get you home, but I’m sure your family is worried.”

  “If they’re all right themselves. I hope the storm didn’t cause them as much trouble as it did me. How widespread was it?”

  “I can’t tell you that. I suppose no one will know for a while. Word has it there’s neither a telegraph line in place for miles nor an open rail line. The river is full of debris, making it too dangerous to head out. We’re stuck right here, with no word in or out to let us know how the rest of Oregon fared.”

  “I’ve definitely endured worse quarters and company,” she said, smiling. She wouldn’t tell him what an effort that smile took.

  Andrew returned the smile. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you. You even have me reconsidering God.”

  “It’s not me. God is calling you back. He must have some need of you—some desire for communion with you. You know He truly does want that with each of us. At the very core of our existence, we were made from love—His love—and He longs for us with a protective nature that speaks to the deepest longing in us.”

  “You are a strange woman, Faith Kenner. I’ve never met anyone who talks about God like you do.”

  The throbbing in her head was nearly impossible to bear, but Faith was encouraged by Andrew’s willingness to speak about God. She wouldn’t stop now.

  “I’ve done a lot of studying, Andrew. I started reading when I was two years old.”

  “Two? That’s impossible.”

  “Not at all. I wanted to know what those letters were and the words they made. Mama said I learned so fast, she could scarcely keep up. Anyway, when I was a young girl, I was encouraged to read books. All sorts of books. I think sometimes people just wanted to keep me occupied, but other times, I think they pushed me that direction because they knew that I had so much longing to know everything—at least as much as I could.

  “One of the places I was able to borrow books from was a minister friend of the family. He had a library of history books that related to the church. I used to pore over them. He would see me reading them and then reading the Bible and puzzling over something far too grand for my ten-year-old mind. Eventually he asked me what I thought of all that I had read. Had I learned anything valuable? Had I figured out the meaning of life and the universe around us?” Faith could almost hear the old man’s questions.

  “And what did you say?” Andrew asked, looking as if she might impart the answer to that very question.

  “I told him that while the books were interesting, I was constantly going back to the Bible. No matter what one man or another had to say, if it didn’t agree with God’s Word, I wasn’t interested, and when it did agree, it only served to draw me deeper into God’s Word. Does that make sense?”

  Andrew sat for a long time and said nothing. Faith thought, from the frown on his face, that he must think her mad. Finally, however, he looked at her with an expression of wonder. “What did your friend say?”

  She smiled and shrugged. Again, the pain of moving reminded her of her predicament. “He said he’d studied his entire sixty-seven years to discover what God had revealed to me in ten. He told me that God must have a powerful work laid out for me. It terrified me.”

  “Here’s some tea,” Ben said, coming into the room with a mug of steaming liquid. “It will help, and you can sleep until you go home.”

  “I really should go as soon as possible.” She took the mug and sampled it. Willow bark, honey, and something else she couldn’t identify. She wasn’t worried, however. Something about Ben made her feel as if she were with family. “This is very good, Ben. Thank you.”

  “You plenty welcome, Miss Faith.” He gave her a smile, then looked at Andrew. “You can stop worrying now. She gonna be well soon. She very strong.”

  “She is that,” Andrew said, glancing back at her as he stood. “I need to check on a few things. I hope you don’t mind. Just rest and drink your tea. I’ll be back in a while.”

  “What time is it?” Faith glanced around the room for a clock.

  “It’s nearly four-thirty. I promise I’ll get you home before much longer. After I see to the ship, I’ll figure out a way to get you back to your family.”

  She nodded and took another sip of tea. Already she could feel the pain diminishing. It was probably more the company than the willow bark, but it was welcome no matter the source.

  “She looks good,” Ben said as he and Andrew made their way down below.

  “She might not even be alive if not for you. You did a good job, Grandfather.” Andrew put his hand on Ben’s shoulder. He spoke in Nez Perce, knowing it pleased the old man. “I am grateful for your skills. You have helped my friend, and it has made my heart glad.”

  “She is more than a friend, I think. I think your heart is glad for reasons that you will not speak.” The old man smiled and turned to leave. “I think your heart has found love.”

  Andrew watched his grandfather walk away and knew he had spoken the truth. He had fallen in love with Faith Kenner. He had carefully protected his heart all of his life, for all the good it did him. He knew the limitations and problems he could face as the laws of the land became more and more stringent in regard to bloodlines. The Civil War had only deepened the hatred of races mixing, and now most states had laws about people of various races intermarrying. Oregon’s laws were quite strict.

  Andrew’s father had been half Assiniboine or Hohe and half English, a fur trapper who’d fallen in love with a woman who was part white, part Nez Perce and Cayuse. Her father was Benjamin Littlefoot. That left Andrew few choices when it came to marriage, and none of them included a white woman like Faith Kenner.

  He drew a deep breath and thought of how much she fascinated him—how quickly she’d managed to win him without even trying. He wanted to spend his life with her—to never leave her side. He wanted to watch her use her skills as a fine surgeon. He wanted to talk to her about all those great books she’d read and how she’d come to understand in ten years what it had taken a schooled man of God decades to learn.

  A band seemed to form around his chest. You can never have her for your wife. She’s not for the likes of a mixed breed riverboat captain, a familiar accusing voice said from deep inside him. You have nothing to offer her. Nothing at all.

  Gerome Berkshire sat across from Sa
muel Lakewood, frustrated that the older man wouldn’t hear him out.

  “If we do things my way, we can lay low for a time and let others take the blame for the guns and whiskey. Once they’re arrested and put in jail, we can go back to our plans.”

  “How easily you sell out your friends,” Lakewood said, shaking his head. “The fact of the matter is that right now Portland needs our attention.”

  “But listen to me, please. The destruction from the storm is the perfect chaos to push our plans forward. With all of this mess tying up the legal authorities as well as the army, we can move a great many firearms to the reservation at Warm Springs and let those being sent to Grand Ronde be discovered. It wouldn’t be the new guns, just the old ones that are missing all their firing pins. Think of it. It would allow me to give the army something that would make them trust that I’m truly working for them. Otherwise I’m afraid they’re going to throw me in jail for not giving them more useful information.”

  “We don’t even know if those places were affected by the storm,” Lakewood countered. “They may both have suffered as we have.”

  “It seems unlikely that a storm would cover such a distance. Why don’t we get someone to ride out to each of the reservations and bring us back a report? Someone fast enough to get out there and back without delay.” Gerome shifted in his chair. “You don’t know how these people work. They are determined to shut us down once and for all. The storm damage will buy us some time and create enough confusion and disorder that we can accomplish a great deal. The men at the reservation are primed and ready to go to war. Just think about it. The city is in shambles and the Indians rise up. Imagine the trouble that will cause and the fear it will put into the hearts of neighboring people. More important, the government will see me as a true informant. That’s to our benefit.”

  Lakewood tapped his fingers together. “You may be right. The storm’s destruction will serve us well in this matter. Let’s first find out just how far the damage extends. Then we can decide how to proceed.”

  “I’ll get on that,” Gerome said, smiling. “What the army doesn’t realize is that I have made friends with the soldiers. For a little bit of money, those friends share information with me. Information that nicely aids our cause.”

  The older man nodded. “Find out what they know about the extent of the area hit by the storm and report back to me. Let’s figure out how to make this work to our advantage.”

  CHAPTER 12

  It took over an hour for Andrew and Faith to pick their way through the city. Not only was the wreckage an obstacle, but Faith often needed to rest. By the time they reached Nancy and Seth’s house, it was dark and quite cold.

  “Please come inside and warm up,” Faith encouraged as Andrew helped her up the porch steps. “I know everyone will want to thank you for what you’ve done.”

  Andrew said nothing, but when Faith reached for the doorknob, he stopped her. “I’ll say hello to your family, but first I want to thank you for the way you share your beliefs without hesitation. I’ve believed myself to be a Christian for a great many years. My mother taught me that Jesus is God’s Son and that He died in my place. As a child, it was hard to really understand, but as an adult who read and tried to understand the Old Testament, I could see the complications of the life the Jewish people lived and their need for someone to come and reconcile them to God. All the sacrifices they made—the blood they spilled for their offerings and sins—it was never enough.”

  Faith nodded. “I saw that too. I remember being so grateful we didn’t have to slaughter animals for sacrifice anymore. I don’t think I could have done it, and yet that was the law.”

  “None of us could ever have kept up with that law,” Andrew replied.

  “No.” Faith glanced toward the window where the soft glow of lamplight made the house look inviting.

  For several long seconds, neither said anything, and Faith found herself wondering about Andrew’s reasons for commenting as he had. She’d never been shy about asking difficult questions, so she decided to simply ask him about his heart. But before she could, Andrew spoke again.

  “I’ve never met someone who puts their beliefs into action as you do. You truly don’t seem to notice skin colors or people’s cultures. You spoke of God not seeing man on the outside but looking at his heart. I fear when He looks at my heart, He’ll be disappointed. I’ve closed it off and tried to avoid people and conflict. Then you came along and wormed your way in.” He gave a nervous chuckle. “I didn’t mean that to sound insulting at all.”

  Faith laughed. “I wasn’t insulted. But if my worming has helped put you on a course of reconciliation with the Father, then I’ll gladly take the analogy.”

  “I guess I’m just trying to say thank you. I was angry, and my heart was steel. The way of love—of God’s love—was something I truly did not comprehend. But I’m beginning to see it now. You’ve opened my eyes with your honesty and kindness.”

  Faith lowered her face. She hadn’t been totally honest, and in recognizing that aspect of their relationship, she felt awash in guilt. How could she pretend to be so open and honest—so immersed in God’s Word and ways—when she hid part of herself? The part of herself that would limit her acceptance in most social circles?

  “Come on. It’s cold out here, and my head is really starting to hurt.” She opened the door. “Nancy? Seth?”

  Her cousin came rushing to the foyer, where Andrew was shutting the door as Faith removed her coat. Faith looked at her coat, amazed at the cleaning job Ben had done. There wasn’t a sign of blood anywhere.

  “We’ve been so worried. Are you all right?” Nancy asked, embracing Faith. “Oh, you’re frozen.”

  “I’m fine. Some debris hit me in the head and cut me. I have four stitches and a tremendous headache.” She pulled back and smiled. “You remember Captain Gratton, don’t you?”

  “Please call me Andrew.” He extended his hand as Seth joined them, followed by two ladies.

  “Andrew, this is my cousin Nancy and her husband, Seth. They were on the Morning Star when we sailed to Oregon City at Christmas. Behind Seth is Mrs. Weaver.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Weaver.”

  The old woman gave him a nod.

  Faith continued. “I went to see Andrew just before the storm struck. I left the boat thinking I could make it home but instead got waylaid. Andrew found me and took me back to the Morning Star, where I recuperated until it was safe to come home.” She turned as she pulled the scarf from her head. “See, I have a bandage on the back of my head. Ben no doubt had to cut away some of my hair to stitch me up. Won’t that make for an interesting obstacle to overcome when arranging my hair?”

  “He was very careful. I think you’ll be impressed,” Andrew countered.

  “We’ve been so worried,” Nancy admitted. “The police are insisting people remain home, and Seth has tried twice to get to the school to see if his sister and Mimi are all right. We’ve seen nothing of them.”

  “We encountered the police and soldiers,” Faith acknowledged. “Once they realized we were headed home, they weren’t quite so harsh. Maybe if Seth pretends he’s on his way home instead of going to the school, they’ll let him pass.”

  “I was just waiting for dark to try again,” Seth admitted.

  “I could go with you,” Andrew volunteered.

  “Thank you. That would be helpful. Especially if they’re trapped.”

  “Perhaps we should bring some tools.”

  “That’s a good idea.” Faith turned to Seth. “If you have, say, an ax and shovel, you can even tell them you’re going there to help clear the debris.” She glanced around. “Is everyone else all right?”

  “Mr. Trent from next door died. The storm upset him so much that he had a heart attack. We tried to help but couldn’t get him to the hospital because of the debris.”

  “I wished I’d been here.” Faith shook her head. “Perhaps I could have helped.”

  “
I wish you’d been here so you might not have been injured,” Andrew threw in.

  “I’m sure folks have plenty they wish was different tonight,” Nancy added.

  Seth turned to Nancy. “I’m going to try again. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He donned his coat and hat, then gave Nancy a peck on the cheek.

  Faith looked to Andrew and smiled. “Thank you for getting me home safe and for helping my family.”

  He nodded but said nothing more.

  Once the men were gone, Mrs. Weaver and Alma, who had been sitting on the back stairs, went back upstairs. Faith closed the front door and turned to Nancy. “What a day. I’ve never seen anything like it. I feel I should be out there helping, but with my head wound, I know I should rest.”

  “I’m so glad you’re safe. Mrs. Weaver and Alma and I hid in the pantry. I thought the entire house would fall down around us.”

  Faith noted that Nancy looked pale. “You’re exhausted. Why don’t I help you get to bed? Have you eaten?”

  “No. Seth only just got around to checking the flues and chimneys. He believes we’ll be all right to cook.”

  “Good. Then while you rest, I shall do what I can to make something.” Faith put her arm around her cousin. “We have leftovers, and I’m sure we won’t starve.”

  Nancy started to say something, but all that came out was a moan. Her knees gave way, and Faith barely caught her before she fell.

  “Mrs. Weaver! I need some help.” Faith struggled to lower Nancy to the floor. “Nancy? Can you hear me, Nancy?”

  She was out cold.

  Faith frowned. “Mrs. Weaver! Come quickly and bring Alma.”

  It was less than a minute before both women arrived. Mrs. Weaver’s eyes grew wide at the sight of Nancy on the floor. “Goodness. What happened?”

  “She fainted. I need help to get her to her bed.”

  “We can help. If you can get her upper body, we can get the lower,” Mrs. Weaver declared, nodding toward Alma.