Treasured Grace

by Tracie Peterson

  Eletta looked away and nodded. “I’d like that.”

  “Good. Then I’ll mention it to Isaac.”

  Grace got to her feet just as the men came in from outside. She knew they were ready for supper, and her own growling stomach begged for the same. Perhaps she would speak to Isaac after they ate.

  She smiled at Eletta. “The men will want their supper, and you need yours as well. I’m going to get you a bowl of stew and a biscuit, and I’ll expect you to eat every bite.”

  Eletta laughed. “Perhaps you are more mother than friend to me.”

  “Perhaps, so you must do as you’re told,” Grace teased.

  Grace moved to the fireplace and began dishing up bowls of stew. She placed three bowls on the table and then went to retrieve the biscuits she’d made that morning. As the men took their places, she returned to the fire and ladled a bowl of stew for Eletta and then one for herself.

  Isaac offered a prayer but hadn’t even managed to say “amen” when a loud knock sounded on the door of the cabin. Grace crossed the room with Eletta’s food just as Isaac admitted a Nez Perce runner. The youth looked absolutely spent.

  “Come in and join us for supper,” Isaac said. He led the boy to the table. “Grace, would you get food for our visitor?”

  She handed Eletta her food, then retrieved the bowl and biscuit she’d set aside for herself. Bringing them to the young Indian, she smiled.

  The boy gratefully took the bowl, ignoring the spoon, and began to drink the contents in a hurry. Grace glanced to the corner where Alex and Sam sat cross-legged on the dirt floor, eating their supper. She could see by their expressions that they were just as curious as she was as to what had brought the young runner to the Brownings’ mission.

  “Do you bring news?” Isaac asked.

  The boy finished his stew and put the bowl down on the table. He began speaking in broken English. “Much killing . . . many dead.”

  Sam got to his feet and turned the boy to face him. They conversed in their native tongue, and Grace saw the look of disbelief that crossed Sam’s face. She looked at Alex, who by now had also gotten to his feet.

  “What is it?” Grace asked. “Who is dead?”

  Alex held her gaze, his dark eyes conveying something she couldn’t identify. Was it sorrow?

  “Alex—Sam, tell us what has happened.”

  “Yes, tell us,” Isaac insisted.

  Grace moved to Alex’s side. She felt him stiffen as she put her hand on his arm. “Tell me—no matter how bad it is.”

  He nodded. “The runner said the mission was attacked and everyone is dead.”

  “The mission?” Grace couldn’t allow herself to believe the worst. Her words were hardly more than a whisper. “Which . . . mission?”

  Alex’s brow furrowed. “The Whitman Mission.”

  Sam Two Moons felt a deep sense of dread as he relayed the information in full to the Brownings and Grace. The actions of a handful of Cayuse had just sealed the fate of Indians throughout the area. The United States government would never stand for such a horrific and unwarranted attack. Especially one that involved so many women and children.

  It was little wonder he had been uneasy for the past two days. He had always been sensitive—intuitive, even—regarding attacks and other things that threatened the lives of his people. His father told him it was a gift from God, but it didn’t feel like a gift when it offered no clear understanding of what was coming.

  Grace insisted they return to the mission, but even now Alex was telling her that it was too dangerous, that they couldn’t go there. He promised that in the morning they would go to Fort Nez Perce on the Columbia River and get whatever help they could. But this wasn’t any comfort to her.

  Sam interrupted her pleas. “I’ll go to the mission. They won’t harm me.”

  Grace left Alex’s side and came to Sam. “Take me with you.”

  “No. Alex is right. It isn’t safe. The Cayuse will be covering the area and most likely will kill any white person they see.” Or worse. He knew there were those among the tribe who would think nothing of taking a white woman hostage to use as they pleased.

  “But my sisters are there!”

  “Grace, Sam is willing to risk his life to get you information regarding what’s happened. If Hope and Mercy are . . . if they’re . . . still there, he might even be able to talk Telokite into letting them return with him.”

  “If they were your sisters, you wouldn’t be willing to send someone else to do your bidding.”

  She stormed from the cabin, not even bothering to close the door behind her. The chilled, damp air rushed into the room, leaving Sam feeling even worse.

  “She’s got to be the most pigheaded woman I’ve ever known,” Alex declared, closing the door.

  “Don’t be too hard on her,” Eletta called from her bed. “She’s afraid for her sisters.”

  Sam nodded. “Alex, you should go comfort her and assure her that I will learn the truth for her. I’ll leave at first light and keep going until I reach the mission. Tell her I won’t even stop but to rest the horse.”

  Alex looked at him for a moment. Sam knew without any doubt that his friend had deep feelings for Grace.

  Finally, Alex nodded and reached for Grace’s coat. “I’ll try to talk some sense into her.”

  It felt as if an iron band had wrapped itself around Grace’s chest. She could scarcely draw breath. Why had this happened? Why, when everyone assured her the Cayuse wouldn’t attack, had they committed such an atrocity? She knew they were angry at Whitman. Knew that the death of their people from measles had made them certain that Whitman was seeking their annihilation. But why kill innocent women and children?

  Images of her sisters lying dead tormented her, and Grace knew that she couldn’t just wait for Sam to return with news. She had to go herself. She had to do whatever was left to do to see her sisters cared for. If they were dead, she would bury them with her own hands if necessary. If they were alive and hurt, she would nurse them back to health. If it cost her her own life, then so be it.

  “I’ve helped the Cayuse. Surely they would allow me to live and help my own,” she murmured.

  “I wouldn’t count on that.”

  She whirled around to see the shadowy form of Alex. With only a sliver of moon in the sky, she couldn’t see his face. “Why are you here?” The words came out much harsher than she’d meant them.

  “I brought your coat, and I came to help you understand the situation.”

  Grace let him help her into the warm wool before pulling away. “I already understand the situation.”

  “I don’t think you do. Sam didn’t tell you everything the runner said. You need to understand a few things. Telokite’s children died. He’s not going to think kindly toward you, another healer. Especially since you helped treat his children.”

  She heard the urgency in his voice and wished she could see his face. “But I also helped so many live.”

  “It won’t matter. Telokite and the others won’t even stop to think about that. They will kill you.”

  “So I’m just to do nothing?”

  “You might pray.”

  Grace could hardly believe Alex was suggesting such a thing. After all, hadn’t he told her he was barely on speaking terms with God?

  “Pray? You want me to pray when you yourself think it’s useless?”

  “I never said that, Grace. I said my own anger had made me put God at a distance, but I’ve had a change of heart. I’m doing my best to seek His forgiveness and rebuild our relationship. Prayer is essential—even I know that.”

  She felt the wind go out of her sails. “I have been praying, Alex. I’ve been praying ever since we came west. I’ve been praying since leaving the mission. I’m still praying.” Her voice broke as tears began to fall. “They may be hurt . . . dead.”

  Alex pulled her into his arms and Grace stiffened. Her heart fought against her thought to pull away. She desperately needed to feel his
arms around her—to feel safe—but how could she feel anything but fear and guilt? She had left her sisters to die at the hands of the Cayuse.

  She pushed away from him. “Don’t! Don’t touch me.”

  “Grace.” His voice was low and soothing. “I just want to help.”

  She began to cry in earnest. “You can’t help. I left them there, knowing there were dangers. I left them to die.”

  He gripped her upper arms. “You aren’t to blame. Things looked like they were going to work out. You couldn’t know, and if you had stayed . . .” He fell silent.

  Grace lowered her head and sobbed. If she had stayed, she’d have faced the same fate. “I should have stayed.”

  Once again he pulled her into his arms and held her. Grace didn’t push him away this time.

  “I promise you, Grace, I’ll do whatever I can. You are important to me—so are they.”

  Grace lost track of the time and even of the words Alex said. She clung to him as if he were the only man in the world who could save her from plunging into a deep abyss. In her heart she knew his embrace did nothing to aid her sister’s plight, but it helped her own, and for the moment that was all she had strength for.

  Eventually Alex led her back to the cabin, where the others had gathered near Eletta’s bed to pray. Only the young runner sat alone by the fire. Alex helped Grace to a chair, then went to get her a cup of coffee. Grace began to shiver so violently that when she took hold of the cup, she spilled the hot liquid on her coat.

  “Here, let me help you,” Alex said, taking the cup back. He held it to her lips.

  Grace took a tiny sip and then another. The shaking began to pass, and after several minutes she reached out and took the cup once again. “I’m better now.”

  Alex looked unconvinced but let her have the coffee. He moved back to the fire and took up a bowl. He dished up some stew and brought it to Grace.

  For a moment she wanted to refuse it, but given that she’d just made up her mind as to what she should do, Grace knew she needed to eat. She put the cup of coffee on the table and took the bowl and spoon Alex offered.

  “Thank you.” She tried to force a smile, but it wouldn’t come. Hopefully seeing her calmer would put everyone at ease. Then, with any luck, she could gather what she needed before they retired for the night and be ready to leave once everyone had fallen asleep.

  “She’s gone,” Sam told Alex. “Her horse is gone too, so she must be on her way back to the mission.”

  Alex growled. “She doesn’t even know her way back. What a fool.”

  Sam motioned to the horses. “We’d best get on our way. She has at least a few hours on us. I’m sure we can track her, but that will slow our progress.”

  Alex went back into the cabin and gathered his things. Isaac and Eletta watched in silence until he finally turned to bid them good-bye. “I’m sorry. I know you’re worried about Grace. When we find her, I’ll bring her back here or at least send word.”

  “Please do,” Isaac Browning said, looking to his wife and then to Alex. “She is . . . she can stay with us for as long as she likes.” Eletta nodded in confirmation.

  Alex knew they had already concluded that Hope and Mercy were dead. He nodded, unable to think of anything more to say. He picked up the leftover biscuits and some cooked venison, which Isaac had wrapped up for them at Eletta’s insistence, and went to find Sam.

  They followed Grace’s tracks. Given the rain that had fallen off and on, they were easy to spot. At first she seemed to have been confused—no doubt the dark had disoriented her. But after a time, the trail became steady. To their surprise, Grace was accurately backtracking the route they’d taken from the mission.

  “She’s a smart one,” Sam said. “I remember that she asked about the landmarks on our way, and it appears she was listening. Most white women couldn’t do as well to find their way back.”

  “Most white women aren’t as stubborn and foolish either.”

  “You’re being kind of hard on her, aren’t you?”

  Alex shrugged. “She’s put her life in danger once again. She’s ignored our counsel and set off to do as she pleases. She doesn’t care how she upsets other people.”

  “Other people?”

  Alex didn’t like the teasing in Sam’s tone. “Eletta and Isaac are half sick with worry.”

  “Ah, I see. I thought maybe you were finally going to admit that you’ve come to care for her.”

  Alex gritted his teeth and said nothing. He knew his feelings were evident, but he was determined not to give in to them. The last time he’d let a woman have his heart, it had turned out badly. So badly, in fact, that he had to flee or risk being killed.

  They rode on through the tall grasses, which glistened as the sun hit the droplets of water on their stalks. The air seemed heavier than it had been, causing Alex to keep a watchful eye on the skies. It was, after all, December.

  I should have known she’d try something like this. I should never have allowed myself to sleep. Not when I knew how desperate she was to learn the truth about her sisters.

  “Did you hear me?” Sam asked.

  Alex shook his head. He hadn’t even realized that Sam had dismounted and Alex’s own mount had halted. “Sorry. What did you say?”

  “I said it looks like she rested here for a bit. I’m guessing not long ago. Maybe she was waiting for it to get fully light before she started off again.” Sam jumped onto the back of his horse. “If she’s really as good at finding her way home as she seems, my guess is that she’ll pick up speed now that the sun is finally up.”

  “You’re probably right.” Alex had to admit admiration for Grace. She had clearly paid close attention to their route. “I guess we’d best do the same.”

  Grace urged her horse forward, knowing the poor animal was exhausted. It had taken them two days to reach the Brownings, but Grace intended to get back to the mission site in one. She knew it wasn’t impossible. Difficult, yes. But not impossible.

  She rested the horse as often as she dared, but she had no doubt Alex and Sam would be on her trail with the rising of the sun. That meant she had to put as much time and as many miles between them as possible. Otherwise, she knew Alex would force her back to the Brownings’ home, and that was something she didn’t think she could bear.

  Her mind was consumed by thoughts of the mission. The runner had said they were all dead. Grace couldn’t fathom that some seventy-six people had been wiped out that easily. The people of the mission were fully capable of defending themselves. Surely some of the men had been able to fight back. But if that were the case and mission folks were still alive, why did the runner say they were all dead?

  “They might have managed to get away,” she murmured. That was possible. Some people might have escaped from the fighting and sought a place to hide. Hope and Mercy would have known to do the same. They were intelligent young women—at least Hope was. Mercy was young and inexperienced, but she had a good head on her shoulders.

  Without thought of food or water, Grace pressed on. She lost track of the time and the miles as she struggled to remember each landmark. It would be very easy to get turned around and find herself in danger. This was wild land—Indian land—and until now she’d given very little thought to the idea that she might encounter some of the native peoples.

  “Lord, I need your help and guidance. You know what I’m up against.” She looked to the west and saw a dark bank of clouds. A shiver ran through her. The temperature was dropping, and if the clouds were any indication, the rain that had come earlier would give way to snow.

  “Father, please be with Hope and Mercy. Help them not to be afraid. Help them to be safe, Lord, wherever they are. I can’t bear the idea of them being dead.” She thought of some of the others. Mary Saunders with her namesake two-year-old. Harriet Kimball with her brood, the youngest just a year old. Then she thought of the Sager brothers and their sweet little sisters. Had they been killed? It was too much to even imagine.
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  She looked heavenward. “Oh, God, I can’t even bear to think of it.”

  Hope sat in the emigrant house beside Mercy, the terrible events of the attack running over and over in her mind. John’s gun had misfired, leaving her alive to bear witness to all the violence that unfolded that day. She could still see John lying dead in the doorway. His blood still stained her dress and apron. It was all she had left of him.

  The Indians had murdered almost all the men. At least that was what she’d heard someone say. After things had calmed down, the Cayuse had herded the women and children together and then argued in front of them as to what they should do next. Eliza Spaulding, the ten-year-old daughter of Reverend Spaulding, was constantly singled out to give interpretation. She spoke the Indians’ language, having learned it at their own mission. It mattered not to the Cayuse whether it was day or night—when they needed Eliza, they came for her. The child was exhausted and even now was sleeping soundly in the corner near Mrs. Hall.

  The Indians had forced all of the survivors into the emigrant house, with the exception of Mr. Bewley and Mr. Sales. Both men were ill when the attack came and remained upstairs in their beds at the mission house. Bewley’s sister Lorinda had said that perhaps because her brother had always been kind to the Cayuse, they had allowed him to live. But Lorinda was no longer with them. It was whispered among the women that she had been taken to Chief Five Crows’s village some distance away and forced to marry him. Hope knew that was only a delicate way of saying he had forced himself on her.

  Lorinda wasn’t the only one to lose her innocence or be forced against her will. The Cayuse braves chose women at random to take to their beds. Any of the girls over twelve seemed to be fair game, and Hope was grateful that Mercy still looked like a child.

  When Tomahas had come for Hope, she had fought him off as long as she could. She knew it was futile, but she wasn’t going to show any willingness. When he tired of fighting her, he had slapped her unconscious, and when Hope awakened, he was already having his way with her.

  After that, her mind just seemed to stop processing rational thought. She prayed for death. She begged God’s intercession, yet none came. At least none that she could see.