by Barbara Goss
*******
Laura and Dawn followed Caro into the house.
Max slapped Jake on the back and said, “You did it! Congratulations. You’ll be courting her then?”
“No, Max. She turned me down.”
“What do you mean she turned you down? Why?”
“Evidently, she doesn’t feel the same as I do. She just wants to be friends.” Jake shook his head. “I could have sworn the feelings were mutual.”
“According to Laura, they are mutual.” Max scratched his head. “Wait—Laura told me Dawn cared for you so much that she wouldn’t subject you to the prejudices rampant by so many white people.”
“Prejudices?”
“A large majority of folks don’t accept Indians as the white man’s equal, and the situation could become extremely uncomfortable. Dawn cares too much to subject you to that.”
Jake played thoughtfully with the dirt beneath his foot. “I’m not sure how I can convince her that I don’t give an owl’s hoot about all that.”
Max slapped his brother’s back again. “We’ll think of something. I’ll speak to Laura and we’ll put our heads together. If you both feel the same about each other…there has to be a solution.”
“Thank you, brother.” Jake jumped up onto the driver’s seat of the carriage. “Good night, Max, and thank Laura for setting up the picnic.”
“It’s not a problem,” Max said as he watched Jake barrel down the drive. “Not a problem at all.”
*******
As soon as Dawn ran into the house after the picnic, she raced up to her room. She wanted to throw herself down on the bed and weep, but she didn’t. Maybe it was her Indian heritage, but instead of crying, she straightened her shoulders and contemplated her situation. She could either spend the rest of her life feeling sorry for herself and her predicament, or she could do something about it.
It would be impossible to change the way people felt about Indians, but she could, at least, discover who she was and get herself a surname. She decided that’s exactly what she was going to do.
Dawn stood and paced. She was startled by a light knock on her door. She knew it was Laura, without looking. Her first instinct was to tell her she was resting and maybe Laura would go away. Dawn knew what she wanted. After what Caro had said, Laura probably thought that she and Jake were now a couple. She hated to disappoint her, but it was better to get the scene over with since the situation wasn’t going to disappear.
Dawn had barely opened the door when Laura squeezed through excitedly. “He kissed you?”
She nodded and closed the door. Dawn sat on her bed and patted the quilt beside her. “You’d better sit down, Laura.”
Laura sat and looked up at Dawn with anticipation.
Dawn knew Laura expected to hear a romantic story. “We did kiss, and it was heavenly, but I refused his offer of courting me. It just wouldn’t work, Laura. It would ruin his reputation and even his business. As much as I’d love to, I can’t let that happen.”
The excitement faded from Laura’s face. “I see.” Laura’s index finger beat upon her chin. Dawn recognized it as a sign she was thinking.
“Laura, I’m going to send for a mail order husband, like you did.”
Laura sighed. “And what would that solve? It would just get you another white man—”
“No! I would specify in the ad that the man be an Indian male. There’s a chance I’d connect with one.”
Laura seemed reluctant. “What if he wants you to move east or somewhere? I’d miss you terribly.”
“I’ll send my letter off first, then I’ll contact my old tribe, find out who I am, and adopt a last name for myself.” She patted Laura’s hand. “I want to stay here, in Silverpines, as much as you want me to.”
“Are you sure about your plans?”
“Laura, it’s possible no one will answer my ad. Don’t worry.”
Dawn touched Laura’s arm as she rose to leave. “One more thing, Laura: could you refrain from inviting Jake here for dinner until my issues are solved?”
Laura frowned. “That won’t be easy. He loves your cooking so much he often hints at invitations. I’ll try, though.”
“Thank you. I’m just so afraid I’ll weaken, throw myself into his arms and…” Dawn brushed tears from her cheeks. “Thank you.”
“How will you find your tribe? Do you remember where they were located?”
“I remember exactly where their little village is.”
*******
Jake rode home with an empty, hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. She'd said no. He’d been so sure of her feelings, but her big brown eyes had lied to him. What was he to do now? He supposed he’d have to get over it and carry on. Maybe he’d go to that barn dance Friday and meet some of the townspeople—anything to keep him from dwelling on his rejection.
Marty Hale, one of Jake's newly-hired workers, offered to go to the dance with him. Marty was sixteen, but he was a good worker, and he was skilled with the horses. Jake liked working with him and teaching him. Now, it was Marty’s turn to teach Jake—he knew nothing about barn dances.
The barn was lit up with lanterns, and straw had been strewn around the ground. Couples danced to the music, the compliments of a lone fiddler, Mr. Spaulding himself.
“I think he holds these dances just so he can play his fiddle,” Marty said with a snicker.
“Well, he’s mighty good at it.” Jake gazed around the barnyard. “What do we do now?”
“I's always heads for the refreshment table. Someone's always gonna comes and chats with you there.”
“All right.” Jake winked at Marty. “I’m trusting you to lead me right.”
Marty was a tall, lanky fellow. Jake had hired him as soon as he'd learned Marty was supporting his elderly mother. He was bright, inquisitive, and as he was discovering, good company, as well.
“Now, just scoops yourself out some of the punch and watch the dancers,” Marty said, holding out an empty, metal cup.
As they stood watching the dancers and sipping their drinks, the blonde woman—who’d invited him to the dance—greeted him.
“I’m so glad you decided to come, Mr. Winters.”
“I thought it might be entertaining. Would you care for some punch?”
“Thank you, I would.” She had big blue eyes and fair complexion, yet when she looked at him, he didn’t get that feeling in the pit of his stomach that Dawn’s face had always put there.
She looked up at him and smiled. “Is this your first dance?”
It was difficult to hear her with all the music and laughing, so he bent down close to hear her better.
“It is. If they have barn dances in southern Texas, I’ve never been to one,” he said loudly.
“Is that where you’re from?” She looked truly interested.
“Yes, Laredo.”
“It’s hard to talk with all the noise. Would you care to walk a bit with me? I’d love to hear more about you,” Mercy said.
Jake took her hand, led her out the barn's side door, and they walked down toward the road. He’d dropped her hand as soon as they’d left the barn.
“So,” she began, “you bought the livery. Do you like working with horses?”
“I love horses. My brothers and I were brought up on a ranch with plenty of horses.”
“You’ve been in Silverpines for several weeks—do you like it here?”
“I do, but it wasn’t my plan to stay here. I came to visit Max, but I really liked it in Oregon and decided to make it my home.”
Mercy hesitated before asking, “You must know that just about all the single and widowed women in town have noticed you. Do you have anyone you’re sweet on yet?”
Jake didn’t know how to answer. He figured honesty was always the best policy. “To be honest, I do have someone I’m extremely fond of, but she’s turned down my offer of courtship.”
He hadn't imagined Mercy’s crestfallen face.
“Is she someone
I might know?”
“Dawn, Laura’s sister.”
“Dawn! Why she isn’t Laura’s real sister—she’s an Indian!”
Jake was surprised by her remark, but he wasn't shocked. “She came from the Chinook tribe. She’s been in Laura’s family for years and is quite civilized.”
“But still…an Indian?”
Jake was beginning to resent her attitude. Now, he finally understood what he’d be up against if he ever courted or married Dawn. It wouldn’t be easy, but the rebel in him made him anxious to fight back. He never had been one to go with the crowd. Rather, he’d always been the one to fight for what he thought was right. Being with Dawn would be worth it all—he might as well begin right now.
“Yes, Miss Logan. I suppose my heart only sees the goodness in people and not the color of their skin or their heritage. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ve had enough socializing for one night.”
Chapter Three
When Dawn had finished composing her letter for the Groom’s Gazette, she handed it to Laura. “What happens to it now?”
Laura put the envelope in her pocket. “I’ll address it to the Gazette’s owner. Betsy Sewell gave me the woman’s address. Fortunately, I kept it.”
“All right.” Dawn turned to leave but spun around to add, “Tomorrow I’m setting out to find the Chinook camp.”
“You’re not going alone, are you?”
“Yes, I am.”
Laura stood and walked to Dawn. “I’ll get Fannie to watch Caro and go with you, if you’d like.”
“I think I’ll get a better reception if I go alone. Bringing a white person into camp wouldn’t get me a warm reception."
Laura stood and paced. “I’m going to worry terribly about you if you go alone. Why don’t you take Henry Fields along? He’s an Indian.”
“He’s from a different tribe and may not be welcome. Besides, you’ll need him here, on the ranch. He’s saddle training a stallion.”
“Dawn, you can’t go alone. The training can wait.”
“Isn’t there a man waiting to buy that horse?”
Laura put her hands on her hips. “He can wait. You can take Henry at least as far as the camp.”
Dawn sighed tiredly. “If you insist.”
She stood and put her arm around Laura. “I’ll leave early in the morning. I promise to be back by sundown. I know where the camp is. It’s only about five or six miles from here.”
“I’ll pray for you all day tomorrow, then.” Laura said.
“I can use the prayers. I don’t know what my reception there will be like.”
When Max came home, Laura secretly handed him Dawn’s letter. “You need to let Jake know about this.”
*******
“Howdy, Max,” Jake said, greeting his brother as he entered the livery. “I just put a pot of coffee on.”
Jake led Max into the office. He poured them both a steaming cup of coffee, and they sat down at a wooden table.
“What’s up?” Jake asked.
Max pulled the letter from his pocket. “Dawn is sending for a mail order husband—an Indian man.”
“What? Why would she do that?”
“Because she doesn’t want to spend the rest of her life alone.”
Jake shook his head. “I’ve lost her.”
Max chuckled softly. “Not yet, you haven’t. I’m not posting the letter. I’m giving it to you. When she doesn’t get an answer, she’ll assume there weren’t any readers who qualified.”
“Dawn’s right, you know. I went to a barn dance and told a woman I had feelings for Dawn, and the way she reacted was shocking. It isn’t fair, Max. Why are people like that?”
“Not everyone is prejudiced, but too many still are. I’m not sure if it’s because their lifestyle is different or because of the past Indian raids and killings.” Max drained his cup. “By the way, Dawn left this morning to meet with the Chinook.”
“What? Alone? Why?”
“Henry went with her. She told Laura she needed to find out who she is.”
Jake pointed to the letter on the table. “What will we do with Dawn’s letter?”
“I don’t know. Leave it for a while and see what happens.” Max stood. “I think you should try again. You need to make Dawn understand that the way people feel about Indians doesn’t bother you at all. If all else fails, we can post the letter.”
*******
“Marty, is the buggy ready for Mr. and Mrs. Carrington?”
“Almost. I’m oiling the axles,” he called from the workroom.
Jake turned as the door to the livery opened, making the bell ring. He was surprised to see Mercy Logan standing there. She didn’t dress expensively, but she always appeared neat and freshly bathed. Her dresses had all seen better days, but they were clean.
Jake nodded at her. “What can I do for you, Miss Logan?”
“I need to speak with you.” She glanced around. “Alone.”
Jake wasn’t pleased to see her. He hadn’t liked her attitude, and he’d hope to never see her again, but there she was.
“Whatever you want to say you can say right here.”
She nodded at the workroom where his crew was busy at work. “Please?” she asked with a pleading look.
Though she was a pretty woman, her looks did nothing for Jake. He wondered what it could hurt to let her say her piece in his office.
“Follow me,” he said gruffly.
Mercy followed him. He motioned for her to sit in one of the chairs around the wooden table, and he sat in the chair on the opposite side of the table.
Mercy played with her hands for several moments and then blurted, “I’m sorry for my thoughtless words the other night.”
Jake stared at her, trying to determine if she looked sincere.
“I won’t tolerate anyone bad mouthing Indians or any other race of people. We are all the same, despite our looks and lifestyles. We all have hearts that beat and feelings that hurt.”
Mercy nodded. “I understand and agree.”
Marty stuck his head through the door, “The Carringtons are here, and they would like a word with you.”
“I’ll be right back, Miss Logan. Excuse me for a moment.”
*******
After Jake had left the room, Mercy strummed her fingers on the table and looked around. She noticed an envelope on the table and picked it up. The envelope was addressed to the Groom’s Gazette, but it hadn't been sealed. After looking around to be sure she wasn’t noticed, she slowly and slyly pulled out the one-page letter and read it. When she was done, Mercy bit her upper lip, smiled mischievously, put the letter back into the envelope, and slid it into her pocket.
*******
Jake returned and resumed his seat. “So, where were we?”
“I had apologized and was waiting for you to accept or refuse it.”
“I accept your apology, then.” Jake stood. “Is there anything else?”
Mercy rose and said, “I thought maybe we could be friends. Maybe go on a picnic or Sunday drive sometime?”
“We’re very busy here and—
“A friendly carriage ride.”
Jake sighed. What could a Sunday drive hurt? “All right. After church, I’ll meet you in the parking area.”
“Oh, I don’t go to church…well, I mean, I haven’t attended yet.”
“Going to church is a condition of the agreement.” Jake hoped she’d refuse so he wouldn’t have to take her for a ride—there was something about her he just didn’t trust.
“All right. I’ll be there.” She smiled and turned toward the door. Jake followed her to the livery's main door.
“Thank you for forgiving me and my thoughtlessness.”
Jake nodded. “See you on Sunday.”
*******
Dawn and Henry plodded along the gradually narrowing dirt road that was little more than a rough path. She’d first met Henry at the mercantile where he’d worked. When Max needed more help at the ranc
h with the horses, she'd suggested him. Since then, they’d become fast friends, even though he was only seventeen and she was twenty-seven.
The further they traveled, the more remote the area became. There were forests on both sides of the trail, so close their elbows brushed the greenery. It felt scary to Dawn and she was thankful Laura had insisted on Henry's accompanying her.
When, without warning, three men jumped from the foliage and blocked their path, Dawn let out a little scream. She looked at Henry who sat wide-eyed. Dawn turned to the three men and swallowed hard.
Chapter Four
The three men were dressed in a mixture of Indian garb and white man’s clothing, so Dawn knew they were traders, probably of furs for clothing. The man in the middle stepped forward and said, “Where do you think you’re going?”
Dawn recognized the language as Chinook. It had been years since she’d heard it spoken, and the sound of it brought back memories; memories that stilled her fear of the strange men.
In Chinookan, she said, “I’m looking for the Chinook chief or leader.”
“You speak our language? Who are you?”
“I am Chinook. My parents died, and the chief gave me to a white family. I would like to ask about my heritage.”
The man nodded and looked at Henry. “What about your friend?”
“He’s Nez-Perce.”
“Nez-Perce?” The man grunted.
“He comes in peace,” Dawn told him.
“Come. Follow us, then.”
The men took hold of both her horse and Henry’s and led them deep into the forest.
Soon, the roofs of the longhouses peeked out from above the trees. The well-worn path had led them right into the village, situated on the shore of the Columbia River.
Dawn remembered the village. She saw about eight longhouses, forming a semi-circle. The houses were long because most housed extended families. Dawn had lived in the chief’s longhouse after her parents had died. She turned to the right and saw the longhouse that had once been her home. A woman she didn’t recognize sat in front of it, holding a naked child.
