by Barbara Goss
“Mercy, have you seen Dawn Girard?”
“Yes. She was here earlier.”
“Was she with anyone?”
Mercy stood. “She was with a stranger. I never saw him before. They were laughing and talking, and then they walked down toward the inn. That was the last I saw of either of them.”
“Thank you!” Jake turned toward the hotel. As he walked, he tried to think of why she would go to the inn with the man. Perhaps she was showing him where he might stay for the night.
He rushed into the inn's lobby and to the front desk. “Riley! I’m so glad it’s you working since you know Dawn.”
The inn’s night manager, Riley Slim, nodded. “What do you need, Jake?”
“Have you seen Dawn at all today? Or a strange, Indian-looking man?”
“I haven’t, but let me ask Ella Grace and Michael Karson. They were here during the day.” Riley left by way of a door behind the desk. While Jake waited, he gazed around the lobby with the hope of seeing something that might be a clue, but there wasn’t a thing.
Riley returned. “Neither of them saw Dawn or an Indian man today. In fact, there have been no new customers since yesterday.”
Jake rubbed his temples. He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or worried. “Thank you for checking, Riley. If you should see her, could you send me a message? It’s very important.”
After Riley assured him he would, Jake left the inn.
Had Mercy lied, or had she been mistaken?
In the morning, he’d try to send a telegram to this Thomas Ainslee from Sacramento. If Dawn had a change of mind and went off with this man because she thought an Indian would be a better match for her, he’d be terribly angry with her. He thought they’d gone beyond that.
He'd go home for the time being, get a good night’s sleep, and make more inquiries in the morning. First, he’d send a message to Max and Laura.
*******
When the train stopped in Olympia, Washington, Dawn stepped off the train, and she tried to blend in with the crowd. She was surprised at the size of the city. It was so big, it made her feel like a snail crawling along toward the wooden walkway. She headed for a church which she'd learned long ago was always a sanctuary.
A small, white church stood welcoming, its doors wide open. She stepped inside to find a woman there, cleaning the pews.
“Excuse me.” Dawn startled the woman who straightened and smiled.
“Howdy. If you’re looking for Pastor Spitzer, he’s in his office, miss.”
Dawn gazed around the church sanctuary. “Can you direct me, please?”
“There’s a door off to the left, up on the altar. Go through that door and turn right—you can’t miss it. His door is always open.”
“Thank you,” Dawn said and followed her directions to find a rotund man sitting behind a highly polished oak desk.
When the pastor saw her, he stood. “Come right on in, young lady.”
His smile was warm and welcoming. When he motioned to a chair in front of his desk, she sat down, folded her hands on her lap, and wondered how to begin her story.
Chapter Ten
The pastor remained silent through Dawn’s story. When she finished, he said, “I’m not sure how I can help.”
“Do you know if there are any Chinook camps in these parts?”
“I honestly don’t know, but I do know where you can find an Indian agent who might.” He stood and pulled out a drawer from a large, wooden filing cabinet. “Here it is—Arthur Bortner is our local Indian Agent. He runs the Indian Affairs Bureau on Clipper Street. I’ll give you directions. It isn’t far from here. You can easily walk there.”
Dawn took the paper with the directions on it and thanked him.
“May I say, young lady, that you seem very strong and level-headed after all you’ve been through. I admire that.”
“I was raised with the Chinook and women are not catered to. It's not that I don’t have an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I’ve learned that to survive you need a plan of action, and to act on that plan.”
The pastor smiled. “Remember our church on Sunday. We welcome people of all nationalities here. We’re all God’s children.”
Dawn sat in front of the desk of Arthur Bortner, the Indian Agent. He was a middle-aged man with spectacles and graying temples. Bortner wasn’t as welcoming as the pastor of the little church had been, but he listened and nodded as she told him about her heritage. When she asked about Chinook Indians in the area, she sat praying as he mulled over her question.
“You’re in luck, miss. The Chinook have a large village in Bay Center. It’s on Willapa Bay and about four days away by horseback. You can rent a horse or buggy at the livery and be there before in less than a week.”
Dawn felt her face drop in disappointment. She hadn’t the money to rent a horse, and she’d have to eat.
“Thank you, Mr. Bortner.” She stood and walked sadly to the door.
“Wait,” Bortner called, “if you can wait a few days, I’m headed there myself for a meeting with their chief on Monday.”
Dawn bit her lower lip. That would help her, but where would she stay for the next two days?
She nodded. “Thank you. I accept your escort.”
“Good. Be here on Monday at six in the morning.”
Dawn nodded and bid him good day.
It was Friday night. She needed to find a place to sleep until Monday. Dawn headed back to the little, white church, the only place in the strange city where she felt safe.
The pastor was still in his office, bent over his paperwork. He looked up as she approached. “Oh, you're back. How did you make out?”
“Fine.” Dawn took the seat in front of his desk. “My name is Dawn Girard, and I need a place to stay until Monday when Mr. Bortner will escort me to Bay Center. That’s where the Chinooks’ village is located. If you would allow me to sleep on one of your pews, I—”
The pastor stood and held up his hand. “Wait. That won’t be necessary. By the way, I’m Pastor Paul Spitzer.” He resumed his seat after shaking her hand. “My wife and I would be honored to have you as a houseguest.”
“You don’t need to ask her first?”
The pastor laughed. “No. We’ve been married for thirty years, and I know her well enough. She lives to help others. My Josephine is the most charitable woman I know.”
“I accept, then, and thank you.”
If only she had money, she’d send a telegraph to Laura, Max, and Jake. The pastor had offered her his home—she couldn’t ask him for money, too. She just couldn’t.
The Spitzers’ home was a modest two-story home right next door to the church. The pastor escorted her into the sitting room where his wife waited to greet her husband.
“Josephine, meet Dawn Girard. She’s in need of a place to stay for the weekend.”
Mrs. Spitzer smiled sincerely. “Welcome, Dawn. Let me show you to our spare room.”
Dawn studied the woman quickly as she was led up the stairs. Josephine was middle-aged, like her husband, but lively and spirited. She appeared much younger until you looked closely enough to see the slight wrinkles near her eyes and mouth. Mrs. Spitzer's blue eyes sparkled when she spoke. Her slightly graying hair was done up in an immaculate bun. She wore no makeup; Dawn thought she didn’t need it anyway.
Josephine swung open a door to a small but immaculate bedroom that contained a single bed, a dresser, an upholstered chair, and a nightstand.
“Dawn, you’re welcome to stay longer than the weekend, if needed. I just love the company and meeting new people.”
“Thank you. Mr. Bortner at Indian Affairs is escorting me to the local Chinook tribe of which I am a member, although I belong to the one in Oregon.”
“I thought you had the look of a native. I call Indians ‘natives’ since they were here first.”
Dawn smiled. “I’m not exactly sure how I arrived here, in Washington. I woke up on a train, and I got off at the fi
rst stop after waking.”
“Waking?” Josephine asked.
“I boarded a train in Silverpines, Oregon, looking for a friend and someone pressed a cloth to my face from behind and that's all I remember.”
“You dear girl!”
“Oh, it’s fine. I have a plan and will get back home as soon as I can. The Chinook will help me. It’s one of the benefits to having an extended family.”
Josephine gave her a sympathetic look. “You’re a strong, young woman, Dawn. I can’t wait to introduce you to my daughter, Amy. She’s twenty and a college student. You’ll be a good influence on her.”
“Is she your only child?”
“Heavens, no. We have George, Renae, Marianne, and Lynn, also. George is studying at the Seattle Pacific Seminary, Renae married Joseph Westlynn and lives in Wyoming, and Lynn is a school teacher in Seattle. Lynn’s unmarried but betrothed to Donovan McVey, a fellow teacher and Marianne is living in California with her husband Ralph Sterling.” She sighed. “I’m hoping some of them can be home next week for Thanksgiving.”
Josephine’s love and pride were evident on her face as she told Dawn about her children. On the way back downstairs, she saw photographs on the wall, and Josephine pointed out each child.
“By the way, Lynn's about your size and has left quite a few of her clothes here. I’m sure she'd be happy to share them,” Josephine said.
At dinner that evening, she met Amy, a shy but sweet young woman. She was pretty even though she wore wire-rimmed glasses.
Dawn felt at home with the Spitzers. Their household was laid-back, everything was calm and orderly, and nothing seemed rushed or done in an agitated way. After dinner, the pastor held a prayer and Bible study, which Dawn immensely enjoyed.
*******
Jake stamped his foot on the livery floor. “Dawn did not run off with another man!”
“I saw her with my own eyes,” Mercy said. “They were walking toward the inn, arm-in-arm, and laughing.”
“That’s odd, because no one at the inn saw her.”
“I’m not sure if they went to the inn. I simply saw them walking in that direction.”
Jake sighed. “If you really saw Dawn and that man, they could have been going to the park or Fannie Pearl’s house.”
“I tell you she ran off with that man,” Mercy said. “She isn’t coming back.”
Jake threw back his head and laughed. “She didn’t run off with another man," he said. "I trust Dawn with all my heart. She’d never do such a thing. We’re in love, and neither of us takes that lightly.”
Mercy frowned. “Well, then where is she?”
“Whenever she’s bothered or feels uneasy she visits the Chinook village. I’m sure she’s there and will return invigorated.” Jake pulled out his pocket watch. “It’s late, Mercy. Shouldn’t you be heading home?”
“I thought we could go to the café for a bite to eat,” she said sweetly.
“Not a chance. I still have work to do. I’ll be here until midnight.”
Mercy pouted. “Just remember: if you get lonely, I’m just a few blocks away.”
“I’ll remember,” Jake said as he opened the livery door for her.
After he heard her ride away, he saddled a horse and headed for White Oaks.
Jake, Max, and Laura sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee.
“Did you have dinner, Jake?” Laura asked.
“No, but I’m not hungry.”
Laura stood. “I can make you a sandwich.”
“Sit down, Laura. I didn’t come here to eat.”
Laura resumed her seat. “Do you have news?”
“Mercy Logan told me she saw Dawn and a man walking arm-in-arm toward the inn.”
“So, the man arrived?” Max asked.
Jake shrugged. “For some reason, I don’t believe Mercy. I went to the inn. Riley, Ella Grace, and Michael all claimed they hadn’t seen her. You both know that no one gets into that inn without seeing at least one of the three.”
Laura poured everyone more coffee. “That’s true. So, where were they headed?”
“Laura, do you really think Dawn would meet a man and walk, minutes later, arm-in-arm with him?” Jake asked.
“Oh, no! She’d never…I see what you mean. But why would Mercy—oh, dear!”
“What?” both Max and Jake chimed in.
“Mercy wants you for herself, Jake.”
“All right, I’ll buy that, but that doesn’t explain where Dawn is.” Jake buried his head in his hands. “Where could she have gone?” He looked up quickly. “Could she have gone to the Chinook camp?”
Laura shook her head. “No, not in the wintertime. She wouldn't try riding that far, especially alone.”
Max hit the table with his hand. “Surely Mercy hasn’t locked Dawn in a closet or something.”
“Oh, Max,” Laura said, patting his hand, “that’s highly unlikely. Dawn can take care of herself.
“All right, let’s think this thing through.” Laura tapped her chin. “Dawn dreaded going to meet this Thomas. She went out of courtesy. Dawn loves you, and she meant to tell Thomas that first thing when she met him, so why would she walk with him? Something just isn’t right.”
Max said, “What if Mercy's wrong and this Thomas kidnapped Dawn?”
Jake’s head shot up. “I hadn’t thought of that.” His hands balled into fists. “How can we find this Thomas…whoever?”
“Ainslee of Sacramento.” Laura pulled the letter from her pocket and handed it to Jake who read the letter over and over.
“He sounds far too anxious.”
Laura pointed to the envelope. “Two things strike me about his letter: first, there's no return address, and for a man, he has very neat printing.”
Jake scanned the letter again. “Odd, indeed.”
“He must be a very educated man,” Max said. “How would we go about finding him?”
“I’m going to try telegraphing a Thomas Ainslee of Sacramento and see what happens.”
“That’s an excellent idea,” Laura said. “What will your telegram say?”
“I haven’t gotten that far with my plan yet, Laura. Maybe, I’ll say he's won a contest and needs to respond in order to win or something.”
Jake thought the idea met with everyone’s approval, as they all smiled and nodded.
“I’ll tell you both one thing,” Jake said, “Dawn did not willingly go with anyone. She loves me and would never do that. I trust her with all my heart.”
Chapter Eleven
Pastor Spitzer drove Dawn to the Office of Indian Affairs himself. He wished her Godspeed and promised to pray for her safe trip.
Dawn thanked him for everything, especially for the extra clothing, from his daughter’s wardrobe, and a sturdy duffle bag.
“Remember,” Pastor Spitzer said as she climbed down from the buggy, “you are always welcome at the Spitzer home.”
Inside the office, Dawn was introduced to Simon Dawson and his wife, Sophie.
Arthur picked up their dufflebags. “Sophie kindly agreed to come along to protect your good name, Dawn. Her husband and I have business with the chief.”
Dawn turned to the attractive woman who was dressed in a riding suit of green velvet. “Thank you.”
Sophie returned her smile. “No need to thank me. I’m always ready for an adventure, and I’m sure by the end of the trip we’ll be fast friends.”
Eight horses were saddled and standing at the ready outside of the office. Arthur answered her question before she'd asked, probably because he'd seen her questioning look.
“We have a long way to go and so we need extra horses. We’ll pull the spares behind us. It wouldn’t do to overstress our mounts.”
Sophie had been right: she and Dawn bonded almost immediately. Sophie was about Dawn’s age. She and Simon had been married three years but had no children yet.
At night, they made camp and bedded down on comfortable bedrolls. Sophie and Simon cooked all the meal
s. The trip was hardly a hardship—it was almost enjoyable.
Dawn worried about how the Chinook might receive her, and if they’d be able to help get her home.
As they approached the Chinook village, some men were there to stop them before they could enter, just like in Oregon, but when they recognized Arthur Bortner, they waved everyone into the camp.
Dawn felt at home, seeing the longhouses and familiar-looking people. She let Arthur do the talking. He spoke English to a man who came forward as soon as he'd recognized the Indian agent.
“I’ve brought you a lost Chinook woman. Can she stay here until she can find a way back to her own people?” Arthur asked.
The man turned to Dawn and said in Chinookan, “Welcome. I’m called Bob Cole.” The man smiled. “Arthur and his staff have given us all white man’s names. My Chinook name is Sis’-ki-you, which means Bob-tailed horse.”
Dawn laughed along with him. “My name is Dowanhowee, which means singing voice, but now I'm just called Dawn, and I don’t sing at all.”
They laughed. Bob nodded and turned back to Arthur. In English, he said, “She is one of ours and can stay. Do you have any other business here?”
Arthur said, “Myself and my guests, Mr. and Mrs. Dawson, are here to see the chief on official business.”
“I will take you to him.” He turned to Dawn. “Stay here. I want you to meet our chief as soon as his business is finished.”
Dawn sat down on a small wooden bench and watched Arthur, Simon, and Sophie follow Bob into the longhouse with the painted front.
She liked Bob, a man probably in his mid-forties. He had a jovial personality and a winning smile. As she waited, she watched women washing clothes by the water. Some of them were cleaning fish, and some were carrying firewood.
“Hello, there,” a voice said in Chinookan. It caused Dawn to jump from the bench. A rather handsome, young Indian with dark, shoulder-length hair was standing behind the bench, dressed in trousers and red shirt.
