The testifying for both sides had concluded almost as quickly as it had started. Grace and Alex had gone into town that morning to hear whether the jury had reached a verdict, and if so, what was to be done. There were still plenty of rumors about what would happen after the verdict was rendered. No one truly believed the Indians would be found innocent. The worry was that even if the judge sentenced them to death, the governor would pardon them. Talk went back and forth that this would never happen—that Lane only made the suggestion as a way to calm the defense and encourage them to keep their arguments and witnesses at a minimum. Nevertheless, it terrified Hope to imagine Tomahas as a free man. If he remained alive, she knew she’d never feel safe again.
And so she worked at the spinning wheel, trying to forget. There was something cathartic in the rhythmic pace of the pedal. She felt a sense of accomplishment as the yarn wound onto the bobbin. It wouldn’t be long before the sheep were sheared for the summer and she’d start the process of washing and carding the wool all over again. That aspect was more of a chore, but spinning was purely pleasure.
Hope startled when she heard a rider approaching. She looked at the mantel clock and saw it was nearly four. Somehow the day had escaped her. Had it not been for Mercy calling her to lunch hours earlier, Hope might have remained at her wheel all day.
Grace and Alex planned to have supper with Uncle Edward and his family, so Hope had no idea who might be coming to the farm. She frowned and tried to decide how to handle the situation. The farm was a refuge to her, but when strangers came and no one else was around to offer protection, Hope felt some of the old fears building within.
Getting to her feet, she started to pull off her apron then decided against it. The pocket of the apron made a good hiding place for her revolver. Mercy had been out in the fields, tending the sheep, since after lunch, so Hope knew that no matter who their visitor was, she would have to deal with them alone.
She put the Colt in her pocket and went to the window. The gun gave her a sense of protection, but after her encounter with Tomahas, she wondered if she could ever pull the trigger. Hopefully the mere appearance of the Colt would scare off anyone who thought to harm her.
She pulled back the curtain but couldn’t see the visitor thanks to the horse that he was tying up. She put her hand around the butt of the gun and drew a deep breath. Why couldn’t she just be left alone?
Squaring her shoulders and drawing a deep breath, Hope knew there was no choice but to greet the visitor. Opening the door while he was still busy with his horse, Hope breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Lieutenant Lance Kenner.
He stood by his mount and offered her a smile. “I wanted to come give you the news—the Indians were found guilty, and Judge Pratt sentenced them to hang on the third of June.”
Hope slumped against the doorjamb for support. “Thank you for letting me know.” She was touched that he cared enough to ride out to the farm just to deliver the news. “Do you suppose they’ll really go through with it?”
“I do.” He stepped away from his horse. “Could I come inside and tell you about it?”
“Of course.” She walked into the house, knowing he would follow. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Just some water would be great.”
Hope nodded. “We boiled a fresh batch just this morning, and it’s had plenty of time to cool off.”
He looked at her oddly. “Boiled?”
Hope was used to people’s surprise. “My sister Grace is a healer. She learned from our mother and grandmother that boiling the water is good for the health.”
“What an interesting thought.”
She motioned him to the kitchen. “Have a chair.” She went to the cupboard and took down a glass. “This family is full of interesting thoughts. Grace also makes us take vinegar every day. She believes it to be an all-purpose commodity. She says it keeps us healthy and aids digestion, and it also cleans better than soap.” She poured water into the glass then set it on the table. “Are you hungry? We have fresh bread and butter. Oh, and some berry jam.”
“Sounds delicious.” He remained standing by the chair, hat in hand. “I’d love some, but only if you join me.”
Hope brought the items to the table. “After yesterday, I’ve been rather hesitant to eat.” She figured it was the best way to bring up her embarrassment from the day before.
“Your nerves got the best of you. It happens to the bravest of men. I’ve seen soldiers in my regiment do likewise before battle. You mustn’t let it bother you in the least.”
He sounded so sincere that Hope could only smile. “Well, it was rather like being in battle.” She reached out to take his hat. “Please sit.” She put the hat on the sideboard then joined him at the table. “I appreciate you coming to tell me what happened. Grace and Alex plan to spend the evening with my uncle and his family.” He looked concerned, and Hope hurried to ease his conscience. “If you’re worried about what they’ll think if they find you here, don’t fret. Mercy is here, and besides, I think they’ve come to think as highly of you as . . .” She fell silent.
“I think you were just about to say you think highly of me.” He grinned and took up the knife to slice a piece of bread.
Hope felt her face grow warm. “I suppose I was. It’s just . . . well . . . I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”
He paused and met her gaze. “What idea?”
“That . . . well . . .” She sighed. It wasn’t in her nature to be silent with her feelings. “I don’t want you to think I’m playing coy or trying to flirt.”
He chuckled and went back to cutting the bread. When he finished, he slathered on butter then handed one piece to Hope and kept one for himself.
“I didn’t think you were flirting. I thought you were being very kind. I want you to think well of me.”
Hope took a spoonful of berry jam and smeared it atop the butter on her slice. “That’s my concern, however. I don’t want you to read more into my thoughts than is intended. I’m not looking to be romanced. I’m not even looking for friendship, as you suggested once before.”
He said nothing, making the situation all the more uncomfortable.
Setting her bread aside, Hope shook her head. “I wouldn’t flirt with anyone, is all I’m trying to say. I’m not foolish enough to believe that what happened to me could be overlooked by decent men. I lost more than my innocence in that attack. They took my dreams of love and a family. They took my ability to feel safe. They took everything. That’s why I carry this.” She drew the revolver from her pocket and put it on the table.
Lance had put down the jam spoon to study Hope with great intent. “And does that make you feel safe?”
She considered his question. “Not exactly, but it does help me realize that I can defend myself, and being able to do that makes me feel better.”
“I can understand that. What you went through should never have happened. I’m sorry you had to endure it, but at least the men responsible are going to hang for it. Maybe then you’ll finally feel safe again.”
Hope shook her head. “I’d like to think so, but I have my doubts.” She gave a harsh, brief laugh. “I have a great many doubts. My future is the biggest one of all.”
“Why?”
“Because as I see it, I don’t have much of one. I’m at the mercy of my sister and her husband unless I can make enough money to support myself. Then there’s this territory. I hate it. I don’t fool myself into believing that the Indian conflict won’t escalate. The Indians aren’t simply going to yield their land to us. There will be more massacres—more women like me.” She forced a smile. “I’m sorry. Grace says that in time I’ll feel better, that I’ll learn to put my trust in the Lord and even marry.” She paused. “I’m learning to trust in the Lord, although His ways are confusing at times, but I’ll never marry. I can’t expect any man to overlook what I’ve gone through.” She looked away. This man had a strange ability to draw information from her. He put
her at ease, but for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why.
“Hope.” Lieutenant Kenner took hold of her chin with infinite tenderness and turned her head to face him. “No decent man would ever hold that against you.”
“He doesn’t have to.” She pulled back, forcing him to let go. She didn’t care for the intimacy of his touch. “I hold it against myself.”
“I wish you wouldn’t, but I understand that these things take time. Still, might we at least be friends? I’m not looking for romance either, but I could use a friend.”
She tried to sound unaffected by his gentleness. She didn’t want to argue, and if she tried to explain her fears, it would no doubt lead to that. “We could be friends. But nothing more.”
His expression was solemn for a moment, but then he smiled. “I think being friends is quite enough.”
His nearness made her uncomfortable. It wasn’t that he made her feel unsafe, but rather that he made her feel anything at all. She’d tried so hard not to for the last two and a half years.
She straightened and fixed him with what she hoped was an all-business expression. “Now, please tell me what happened in court.”
He frowned but nodded and picked up his bread once again. “The jury didn’t consider the matter for long. Not even two hours. They returned a guilty verdict against all of the defendants. There was some question about one of the men—Kiamasumkin—and whether he participated, but in a strange turn of events, the judge called Mrs. Chapman back to testify that she had witnessed his participation.”
“Why was that so strange?”
Lance shrugged. “The defense had rested, as had the prosecution. The judge had sent the jury out to deliberate, and yet he allowed them to come back posing that concern. It’s not generally how things are done.”
“You seem to know a lot about it.” Hope nibbled at her bread.
“I suppose I do. I studied law in college. I plan to take it up again once I muster out. I intend to return to New Orleans, where I’m from. I started practicing law there with a family friend before joining up.”
She’d never thought of him as a learned person, but reflecting on his manners and speaking, it made perfect sense.
“But the verdict was guilty?” she asked.
He nodded. “They were all found guilty. Remember, they were tried as a group, not individually.”
The back door opened and closed with a resounding thud. “Hope?”
“I’m here in the kitchen.”
Mercy popped into the room. “The sheep are in the pen.” She stopped at the sight of the lieutenant.
“This is Lieutenant Kenner,” Hope introduced. “Lieutenant, this is my sister Mercy.”
He got to his feet. “I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Mercy.”
She smiled. “I’m pleased to meet you, Lieutenant Kenner.”
“Please, call me Lance. Both of you. I’m mustering out after the hanging.”
Mercy frowned. “So they’re going to hang those poor Indians?”
Hope saw the surprise on Lance’s face. “My sister is of the mind that forgiveness is due everyone, no matter how heinous their crime.”
Mercy plopped down at the table. “Well, it doesn’t say anywhere in the Bible that only certain people get to be forgiven by God.”
“I think a person ought to repent and ask for forgiveness,” Lance replied, reclaiming his seat. “I’m afraid the Cayuse do not believe they’ve done anything wrong. They aren’t in the least ashamed or concerned by what they did.”
“Killing them isn’t going to change what happened,” Mercy replied, sounding years beyond her age. “It won’t bring Dr. Whitman and the others back to life, and it won’t change what happened to the women and children who were taken hostage.”
Hope got up so fast her chair fell over backwards. “Mercy, you can forgive who you will, but don’t expect me to do the same. I do well to have just a few minutes of sleep where I don’t relive that horror.”
She stormed out of the room, unable to continue. She knew Lance would understand. She just wished her sister might afford her the same compassion.
Lance considered going after Hope, but something held him in place. He ate his bread, uncertain whether he should stay or go.
“She isn’t like that all the time,” Mercy said after a long silence. “She was getting better until the trial.”
“It’ll probably take a long time and a lot of patience on your part.”
Mercy nodded. “I know. I’ve been praying for her.”
“I’m afraid that the trial has taken its toll on your sister. It’s actually made her sick at times.”
Mercy considered this. “I think it’s the hate that’s making her sick.”
“What do you mean?”
“Grace helped me see that when you hate someone, it’s like a chain wrapped around your heart that reminds you of all the ugly, bad things that person did to you. Holding a grudge takes a great deal of strength. You keep carrying it, and it wears you out. You can hate so much and get so worn out from it that it makes you ill and ruins your life. It’s better to let bad things stay in the past and put the chain down. Leave it to rust. You don’t have to carry it and be reminded of what happened . . . and you don’t have to get worn out and sick.”
The words permeated deep into Lance’s heart. Learning that Hope’s brother-in-law was Alex Armistead had been hard. The past had never been easy to forget, but it was less intense before this new revelation.
“You look sad.”
He nodded. “Sometimes the past makes me that way. Hearing you talk about hate making a person sick made me think of some things I’d hoped to forget.”
“Sometimes talking about them helps.”
He smiled. “I was thinking of my family.”
“But surely you don’t want to forget them.”
“No, but I do want to forget some of the tragedies and pain that surrounded them. See, my mother died when I was just ten.”
Mercy nodded. “I was eleven when my mama died. Da was already dead, so losing her was really hard.”
“I know it must have been, because it was for me. Although my father was still alive.”
“Do you have brothers and sisters?”
Lance tried not to betray his feelings. “I had two older brothers and a younger one who died around the same time as our mother. It was a yellow fever epidemic. They’re all gone now.”
She frowned. “It must have been hard to lose them all to sickness.”
Lance didn’t bother to correct her. There was no sense getting into the details of his older brothers’ deaths.
“So you have no one?” she asked.
“No.” He shook off the memories and met Mercy’s turquoise eyes. He smiled. “You have very pretty eyes. They aren’t like Hope’s or Grace’s.”
“No.” She shook her head. “Hope’s eyes are blue like our mother’s. Grace’s eyes are green like our father’s. Mine are a mix of both. Mama always said I was the tie that bound everyone together.”
He smiled. “What a wonderful way of looking at it.”
Mercy nodded but said nothing more.
The silence prompted Lance to ask a question. “Do you really believe that everyone deserves to be forgiven?”
“No. I don’t think anyone deserves it.” She shrugged. “The pastor says everybody has sinned and gone astray. He read that to us from the Bible. He said that no one deserves grace. I remember that because Alex teased Grace, saying that when she’s difficult, he’s going to remind her of that.” She smiled, and it seemed to light up her entire face.
Lance nodded with a grin. “I’ve met your sister Grace. She seems very nice.”
“She is.”
He didn’t want to dwell on Grace or Alex, so he said, “But you’ve decided to forgive the Indians who took you hostage even though they haven’t asked for your forgiveness?”
“Yes.” She paused and looked down at the table for a moment. “I don’t want
to carry around that hate. I don’t want to always live in the past.” She looked up and smiled. “I want to leave the chain to rust so I can have a good life. I want that for Hope too. She suffered more than I did, though, so I understand why it’s harder for her.”
Lance toyed with the bread in his hands. “Maybe she can’t bring herself to accept what they did.”
“Forgiveness isn’t about accepting anything. I don’t accept or approve of what happened. Those men committed murder and . . . other things. They deserve to be punished, but I think it’s wrong to kill them.”
“So they can be forgiven and punished at the same time?”
“Of course. God forgives us when we ask, and the Bible says He forgets about it as well. But, like Grace says, there are earthly consequences and laws that have to be dealt with as well. I can forgive them, but they did wrong, and the court has decided they deserve to die for committing murder. That doesn’t bother me nearly as much as the pleasure so many people take in that decision. I can’t bear that they look upon human life so casually. Of course, they don’t believe the Indians are human.”
She was so wise and tenderhearted for one so young. “I think you’re an amazing young woman, Miss Mercy.”
Mercy stood at the head of her class. The teacher handed her a certificate of award for her perfect grades. She held the paper proudly and returned to her seat, glad that classes were officially over for the summer. She loved school, but given all the trial talk and enthusiasm over the upcoming hanging, she wanted nothing more than to sequester herself away from town.
Beloved Hope (Heart of the Frontier Book #2) Page 9
