Treasured Grace

by Tracie Peterson

  “Like your husband?”

  Grace shrugged. “The Right Reverend was never wrong and therefore had no need to apologize.” She saw Alex frown but offered no further explanation.

  Alex said nothing until they’d passed the pond. “I heard the doctor isn’t happy with you, and yet you are braving his wrath once again.”

  “I don’t like to upset him purposefully, but the fact is he’s too proud to allow that my abilities might help lighten his load. Perhaps it’s because he fears being shown up.”

  “Most likely,” Alex countered, “it’s because if you prove to be successful, it will only give the Cayuse more ammunition to support their theory that he’s trying to kill them.”

  Grace looked at him in surprise. “Why would they ever think that? Surely the Indians are intelligent enough to know that death comes to all eventually. They can hardly hold the doctor responsible for the measles claiming so many lives.”

  “But they do. They are intelligent but also fiercely superstitious and set in their ways.”

  “Still, many of them have accepted Christ as their Savior.”

  “True enough, but they don’t necessarily discard their other beliefs. Some do, like Sam, but even he leans toward the old ways from time to time.”

  They were nearly to the village, and Grace took a moment to pause. She wanted to ask Alex the question that had troubled her for the past couple weeks. “Would the Cayuse really come and kill us in our sleep?”

  Alex stopped and shrugged. “Who can say? They are known to kill when they feel they’ve been treated badly. They believe that if a tewat is no good, they are justified in killing him. They won’t tolerate the threat to their way of life and their people. I’ve tried to reason with them, but they won’t hear a white man’s reason.”

  She nodded and looked out across the lodges of the village. “I wish there could be peace between us.”

  “So do I.”

  Chapter

  7

  The emigrant house was full of the sick, and Grace did her best to stay out of sight when Dr. Whitman came to check on his patients. Once he was gone, however, her presence seemed to comfort the ill. So did Hope’s. To Grace’s surprise, Hope was given to singing to the children.

  “You have the voice of an angel,” Harriet Kimball said, smiling at Hope.

  “I like to sing. Our mother used to sing.”

  Grace nodded. “You sound just like her. I was just thinking to myself how much your singing reminded me of her. She had such a beautiful voice, and you do too.”

  “Do I remind you of her?” Mercy asked.

  Turning back to her younger sister, Grace nodded. “You do. You have her smile.”

  “She’s tiny like Mama too,” Hope added.

  “Indeed she is. She’s definitely the smallest of all of us.”

  “Da used to say Mama was no bigger than a mite and he worried she’d blow away in a good wind,” Hope said.

  Mercy giggled, making Grace smile.

  It was good to hear her sisters sharing lighthearted conversation again. Equally good to hear them sharing happy memories of their parents. Grace could remember the old days when Mama and Da gathered them nightly for supper and to read the Bible. It was a time of joy, and Grace found herself often longing for that gathering once again. Her parents were very much in love when they’d married, and that love never lessened over the years. Grace had always vowed she’d have a love like that one day, and then she’d married the Right Reverend and those ideals seemed lost. Now, however, she couldn’t help but wonder if true love might still be had. An image of Alex came to mind, and she was surprised to realize she was coming to care for him. It was nothing more than friendship, she assured herself.

  A knock sounded at the front door of the emigrant house, and Grace went to answer it. She found a very worried Alex holding up an older man at the door.

  “He’s hurt,” Alex said in explanation. “I thought maybe you could help.”

  Grace glanced down and saw that the older man’s lower leg was wrapped in a blood-soaked cloth. “What happened?” She motioned Alex inside and led him to the only available spot where she could work.

  Alex eased the man to the floor. “He was chopping wood and somehow managed to hit his shin. It’s a deep wound. I did what I could with moss and wrapping it, but it needs more.”

  Smiling at the pale-faced older man, she began to unwrap the leg. “My name is Grace.”

  “Grace is what I need,” the man said weakly, then gave her a wink. “I’m Gabriel, but everyone calls me Gabe.”

  “I’ve always loved that name because it’s the name of God’s angel. At least one of them.”

  Gabriel gave another weak nod. “My older brother was named Michael for the archangel. He was always pullin’ rank on me.”

  “My younger sisters would tell you that I do the same.” Grace glanced to where Hope stood watching before refocusing on the task at hand. She continued working, doing her best to keep Gabriel talking lest he succumb to shock.

  Once she pulled away the last of the bandages, she could see Alex was right. The wound was deep. “It will have to be stitched.” She paused, looking up to see Harriet Kimball watching with a frown. “Perhaps we should call for Dr. Whitman to do the work.”

  “No,” Alex said firmly. “We want you. I told Gabe about you.”

  The old man smiled from behind a thick, graying brown beard. “It’s a sight . . . better to have a . . . a pretty gal caring for you. Besides, me and the doctor have banged heads a few times.”

  Grace looked over her shoulder. “Hope, get my bag.” Her sister hurried from the room. Grace reached up and felt Gabriel’s neck. His pulse was weak and very rapid.

  “Alex, let’s move him closer to the fire and get him lying down. I’ll hold on to his leg to keep the wound from bleeding more.” She took a firm grasp and held fast, even though she could see how much it pained Gabriel.

  Before she could suggest anything more, Alex had already scooped up his friend and, with Grace, moved him near the hearth.

  Grace grabbed a pillow and put it beneath Gabriel’s head. “There. Now you’ll be warmer and more comfortable.”

  Hope returned with her things. She handed Grace the bag, then went to the fireplace mantel and took up the pitcher for water without being asked. As Grace pulled out some of her medicines, Hope ladled water. With that complete, Hope knelt beside her sister.

  “What can I do to help?” she asked.

  Mercy had moved closer. “I can help too.”

  “No, you lie back and rest,” Grace told her. “I don’t want you having a relapse because you’ve done too much. You still have a long way to go until your strength returns.” She uncovered the wound again and turned to Hope. “Are you sure you can deal with this?”

  Hope blanched a bit but nodded. “I want to help.”

  “Very well. We need to clean the wound. We’ll start with water and then use a liberal application of wood vinegar.” Grace drew off the moss Alex had packed on the wound.

  They worked together while Alex continued to talk to Gabriel. Grace had her doubts the wounded man could comprehend much more than the pain, but she was glad for Alex’s attempt to distract him.

  The gash was deep and long, not to mention full of debris. Sweat trickled down the side of her face, and her shoulders and back began to ache from bending over Gabriel’s leg, but she worked on. It was imperative the wound be clean.

  Hope assisted as best she could, but Grace knew the ugly wound was difficult for her sister to stomach. When Hope began to hum the hymn “Christ a Redeemer and Friend,” Grace knew it was to calm her own spirit.

  “Why don’t you sing the words, Hope? I remember that was one of Mama’s favorites.”

  Hope nodded and softly sang, “Poor, weak and worthless though I am, I have a rich almighty Friend; Jesus, the Savior, is His Name; He freely loves, and without end.”

  Gabriel smiled as Hope continued to sing. He seemed to fo
rget everything else. When she concluded, he nodded. “If there really are angels on earth, then I just heard one sing.”

  Hope blushed and looked away.

  “There, all done,” Grace said as she tied off the bandage. “But you must rest.” She looked at Alex. “Where are you staying? Gabriel can’t go far. I’d suggest here, but we already have so many, and most are sick.”

  “That’s a good question. I hadn’t really thought about it.”

  “I have our tent, but I don’t want Gabriel on the cold ground. If you think it would work out, you may use my wagon. Since the others moved on to Oregon City, the doctor had our wagon brought closer to the mission. There’s room there to make a bed for you both, now that I’ve given most of the contents to the doctor and his wife. The canvas is still on and will shelter you from the weather. Oh, and you could use the little cart we have for hauling water to carry Gabriel so he doesn’t put pressure on the leg.”

  “That’ll be fine.” Alex gave her a look of such gratitude that Grace felt immediately self-conscious.

  “Ah . . . Hope and I will go ahead of you and fix things up.” She gathered her things and got to her feet. “It’ll only take us a few minutes to gather bedding.”

  Hope looked at Grace oddly. Something about her sister seemed different. Grace was almost uncomfortable around the handsome trapper, Mr. Armistead. But none of that held Hope’s attention for long. She had other things on her mind, and she needed her big sister to offer advice. Something that Hope would never have admitted even a month ago.

  “Grace, have you ever been in love?”

  Grace straightened from where she was creating a resting place for Gabriel on the floor of the wagon. “No. I don’t suppose I have. I told Da I would never fall in love unless the man was just like him. Though perhaps less stubborn.” She smiled a sad sort of smile that made Hope almost regret having asked the question.

  “I think I’m in love.”

  Grace smiled. “John Sager?”

  Hope nodded. “He’s a good man.”

  “He’s hardly more than a boy—and you are certainly still a girl, not yet having reached your majority.”

  “He’s not a boy, and I am a woman just as much as you are. You know very well that many people marry younger than me.”

  “Are you already talking marriage?”

  Hope felt her face grow hot. “Well, not exactly. But I find myself thinking about it all the time. I know I’ve always been a flirt, but I don’t want to be one now that I know Johnny—John. I care about him, Grace. More than I thought it was possible to care about someone.”

  “And I presume from the time you have spent together that he feels the same?”

  “He does. He said he liked my happy spirit.” Hope remembered his smile when he’d told her. “I’m sure I love him. I feel all funny inside, and none of the other men are of any interest to me.”

  “Hand me that pillow,” Grace ordered, then added, “I think you should move slowly. We’ll be here all winter. Take your time and get to know each other better. Make certain he is a God-fearing man.”

  “Oh, he is. In fact, he’s made me want to know God better. We’ve been reading the Bible together. Well, I’ve mostly done the reading, since his eyes hurt him, but he’s talked to me about God and how we each one of us have to trust Him for our future.” Hope picked up the requested pillow and hugged it close. “And, Grace, I want my future to include John.”

  “Just go slow. You’re only seventeen. You have all the time in the world to decide if you want to spend your lives together.”

  “I suppose Mama would have said the same thing.”

  “I’m certain she would have.” Grace straightened again. “There, that’s ready. At least it will be once you give me that pillow.”

  Hope handed it over with a frown. “If you’ve never been in love, how can you be so sure your advice is right?”

  Grace laughed. “I’ve never been bitten by a rattler either, but I know how to look out for them and what to do if I should get bitten. Honestly, Hope, a month ago you were teasing all of the boys and young men and enjoying your status as the most beautiful girl on the wagon train. Now all of a sudden you’re talking about giving your heart to one man and spending the rest of your life with him. That’s a very quick transition—even for you.” Her voice softened and sounded almost motherly. “Don’t be in such a rush to grow up, sweet girl.”

  Alex awoke with a start. He looked out of the wagon and found the light fading from the skies. What time was it? He lit the lantern Grace had left him and checked on Gabriel.

  The old man woke up and looked at Alex in momentary confusion. “Where are we?”

  Alex smiled. “We’re in a wagon. Grace Martindale’s wagon, to be exact. She’s the one who sewed you up. Do you remember much?”

  “I remember the voice of an angel singin’ over me. Was that her?”

  “No, that was her sister Hope. Grace was the one with the beautiful green eyes.”

  “Ho ho, you reckon her eyes to be beautiful. Ain’t never heard such words come from you before. Next you’ll be tellin’ me that she’s your gal.”

  “No, I won’t.” Alex hadn’t meant for his tone to sound so irritated. “That’s not at all in my plans.”

  “Well, maybe the Good Lord has other plans. I reckon Him to be in charge, so you just might find yourself tumbling right into love.”

  Alex stiffened. “That’s not going to happen. Now forget about it and tell me how you’re feeling.”

  “It hurts like the dickens.” Gabriel shook his head. “Can’t figure what the Good Lord has in His plans for somethin’ like this to happen. In all my years, I ain’t never had an axe slip on me.”

  “Maybe God’s punishing you for keeping company with me.”

  Gabriel gave him a frown. “Boy, sooner or later you’re gonna have to own up to the past and all that’s keepin’ you and God at odds. You were taught better, and I know you know the truth. You ain’t gonna have any peace at all until you yield yourself to God.”

  “Don’t go preaching at me.” Alex found himself caught up in the discussion in spite of himself. “If I’m at odds with God, then it’s because He allows injustice and suffering in the lives of innocent people.”

  “Well, as I recall, there was only one innocent person in all of creation, and God let Him die on a cross.”

  Alex turned away and shook his head. “We don’t need to have this conversation again. I know God is up in His heaven, no doubt amused at your tormenting me, but let’s talk about something else.”

  Gabriel tried to sit up, but Alex stopped him. “You have to rest. That gash on your leg was deep. Grace said you have to stay off of it for a few days.”

  “Bah, I’ve been wounded before. I ain’t never been one to take to my bed.”

  “Perhaps it’s time you gave it a try,” Grace said as she peered into the wagon. “I believe my timing is perfect, given that my patient doesn’t wish to obey my instructions.”

  Alex went to help her up, but she extended two plates of food instead. “I thought you could both use some supper.”

  “Indeed we could.” Alex took the food and set it aside. “Let me help you up.”

  Grace held up her arms and allowed Alex to pull her into the wagon.

  The wagon was small and cramped. Grace had to crouch as she moved to Gabriel. Alex tried to press to one side as far as he could, but her nearness left him feeling flushed all over.

  “I’ve come to make sure you aren’t feverish or bleeding.” She didn’t give Gabriel time to protest but immediately started unwrapping his leg. Alex brought the lantern closer as she inspected the wound. She gave a nod and began to rewrap the leg. “The bleeding has stopped, and the stitches held while moving him here.” She finished with the leg and reached into her pocket. “But you must stay in bed, or you’ll start up bleeding or get it infected.”

  “Like I was tellin’ Alex, I don’t think much of layin’ around.”
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br />   “Well, I suppose if you don’t mind the idea of losing your leg, you could do pretty much whatever you like.” Grace fixed Gabriel with a matter-of-fact stare that made Alex laugh out loud. She produced a small bottle, poured some of the contents on top of Gabriel’s food, and handed it to him. “Eat all of this. The herbs will help with the pain.”

  “I think you’ve met your match, Gabe.”

  Gabriel laughed. “I’ve had me two wives who weren’t anywhere near as bossy as you.”

  Grace smiled. “You were married? Are you still?”

  “No. Both of them gone beaver.”

  Grace frowned and looked to Alex for explanation. “What?”

  “They died. That’s just another way of sayin’ it.”

  She nodded and turned back to Gabriel. “I’m sorry to hear that. Was that when you came west?”

  Gabriel gave her a strange look. “I’ve lived out this way pert near all my life. Came down from Canada. Married me a Cree woman. She gave me two sons, but they . . . died, and not long after that she died too. Then I married me a Nez Perce. We had a good many years together. But now she’s gone beaver too.”

  “You married Indian women? Why would you do that?”

  Alex stiffened. He hadn’t expected Grace to ask such a question. Surely she was familiar with the fact that many of the trappers, if not most, married Indian women. White women were scarce in the northwest. He glanced at Gabriel, wondering if the man would be offended, but to his surprise the older man chuckled.

  “Ain’t no white woman who’d tolerate me.” He gave her a toothy grin. “I needed a woman who could keep up with me and do my biddin’. A woman who didn’t mind livin’ out here and didn’t need a lot of foofaraw and geegaws.”

  “Well, I would think there are a good number of white women who would have agreed to take on the wild country, as well as the wild men in it. Even if it meant leaving geegaws behind.” She smiled. “I don’t, however, think mixing the races is a good idea. There are too many differences.”

  “But the differences are what makes it good,” Gabriel answered.