Treasured Grace

by Tracie Peterson

  A look of hurt momentarily darkened his expression, but he quickly recovered. “I’m sorry. I do care for you. I really do, and despite what you say, I know you care for me. There are things, however, that won’t allow me to . . .” He gave a heavy sigh. “I can’t explain it, but you need to know that I’m sorry. If I could allow myself to love anyone, it would be you.”

  She could hear the pleading in his tone and wrestled with her conscience, knowing that the Christian thing to do was give in and swallow her pride. He’d hurt her—humiliated her, really—but there were so many worthier problems to focus on.

  Finally, she replied. “You obviously have your reasons. Reasons that you cannot share. It isn’t important.” She turned to walk away, but he grabbed her arm and drew her back.

  “It is important. I know I hurt you, and that was never my desire.”

  She hated his nearness as much as she desired it. If she couldn’t put some distance between them soon, she was going to make a fool of herself. “I need to go.” She pulled free of his hold and hurried across the grounds.

  A part of her hoped he’d stop her. She longed to return and make him listen to reason—to hear him say it was all a mistake and that he . . . loved her.

  But instead only silence followed, and Grace felt her heart break a little more.

  On the twenty-ninth of December the wagons rolled into Fort Nez Perce. Hope held Mercy close, fearful that the entire affair was simply a trick—some heinous joke. The survivors had been mostly silent on the trip. The tension and fear was almost more than they’d known at the mission. Now that they were so close to being free, they were terrified that something might keep it from happening. But as the wagons halted inside the fort and people came to help them down, most of the women and children broke into tears of relief.

  Hope saw Grace run from one of the buildings to greet them. She looked haggard—older than Hope remembered. She embraced Mercy first, alternating between hugging and kissing her.

  “Oh, I can scarcely believe you’re finally here. Oh, my sweet dears, how I have prayed.” She let go of Mercy and hugged Hope. “I’m so sorry for what you’ve endured.” She pulled away to look Hope in the eyes. “For what they’ve stolen from you.”

  Hope realized that Grace knew about the rapes. Hope knew too that her sister would be sympathetic and generous with her attention and care. But Hope wanted no part of it. She didn’t want to be noticed or fussed over. She wanted only to be left alone. If they all forgot that she was even alive, that would be just fine.

  “Come on,” Grace murmured. “I have a place for you all readied. When I heard that the wagons were just a mile away, I put on hot water so you could wash up. Oh, and I have tonics to help you sleep.” Grace directed them to the small room she’d been using. “I have pallets there for you to sleep on, and here’s the water.”

  “Where are the others going to stay?” Mercy asked.

  “In the main building. I thought maybe you’d like a little privacy after being forced . . . having to stay with everyone so close together.”

  “I want to be with Mary Ann. She’s been sick,” Mercy replied.

  “Maybe I can help her. Why don’t we check on her after you wash up?”

  Mercy shook her head. “No. I want to be with her now.” Without another word, Mercy left the room.

  Hope could see that Grace had not anticipated this defiance. “She and Mary Ann are very close. They . . . they helped each other to . . . get by.”

  Grace frowned. “I’m glad she has a friend.” She kept her gaze fixed on the door. “Oh, Hope, I wish I’d been there to keep you safe. I feel terrible that you had to bear it alone. Well, I know you weren’t alone. God was with you the whole time.”

  Hope felt rage rise up in her. “Do not speak to me of God. If He was there, then He stood by watching without a single thought for us. I want nothing to do with God.”

  Grace looked at Hope as if she’d suddenly gone mad. “You don’t mean that. I know you’re just upset right now. I am too. I hate what’s happened, and believe me, I railed at God for letting it happen. But I know He still cares for us—for you. I want to help in any way I can, but I don’t know what you need. Help me understand.”

  A bitter laugh rose up from deep within Hope. She choked it back. “You can’t understand. You weren’t there. You’ll never understand.”

  Chapter

  17

  It was a new year, 1848, but no one felt like celebrating. There was very little to celebrate. No one felt safe at Fort Nez Perce—not the company men who’d arrived with Peter Ogden, and certainly not the released women and children. The tension was thick, and it only served to make everyone question when Peter Ogden would get them out of there and to the safety of Fort Vancouver.

  Alex watched the rescued hostages from afar. They wanted little to do with anyone, including Grace, although her healing skills were allowed. After having shared the massacre and captivity, it was almost as if they had become one family. They kept to themselves and said very little. When local Indians came in to trade, their fears were evident and the tensions high. The ordeal wasn’t over for them. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

  Grace did what she could, and Alex knew she was troubled by how these women who had once been her friends now seemed to put a wall between themselves and her. Worse still, Grace’s sisters did the same. Since their arrival that first night, they had chosen to stay with the other women and children rather than enjoy the privacy of Grace’s room. He knew it hurt her, but she never said a word.

  Making his way to a meeting with Ogden and his men, Alex was taken off guard when Hope approached him.

  “I know you’ve been a good friend to my sister,” she began.

  Alex took a moment to study the once vivacious young woman. He remembered seeing her at the mission—her beauty undeniable, and her zest for life more than evident. She had fallen in love, Grace had said, and she’d seen that same young man killed. She looked at least ten years older. Her eyes, once a vibrant blue, seemed somehow a dull gray—almost void of life. She was pale with dark circles under those lifeless eyes and a grimness to her expression that made Alex all the sadder.

  “What can I do for you, Hope?”

  “I want your promise on something.”

  His eyes narrowed. “If I can.”

  “It’s not that difficult.” She looked past him to the front gate. Just beyond, a half dozen Cayuse had made camp. They were loud and boisterous, and Alex knew it set the nerves of everyone in the fort on edge.

  “Go on.” He tried to keep his voice low and gentle.

  “We’ve been hearing that some of the Indians regret trading us so cheaply. I heard a couple of the Hudson’s Bay men talking about the threat of the Cayuse bringing more men and attacking the fort to take us back.”

  “Hope, there are always rumors.”

  “Well, the Cayuse are here, aren’t they? And their numbers are growing. They’ve been allowed to come into the fort pretty much at will. None of us feel safe.”

  Alex frowned. He knew there was little he could say to calm her fears. “What can I do?”

  “I want your promise that if the Cayuse try to take us again and it looks like they will win, that you will shoot me. I won’t go through that again. I can’t. If I had my own gun, I’d not worry about it, but since I don’t, I’m asking you to help me.”

  Her words felt like a punch in the gut. He could see in her eyes that she was serious. “Hope . . . I . . . well . . .” He fell silent. What could he say? She was terrified of being taken into captivity again. Terrified of being forced to do the things she’d had to do in order to survive. Without realizing at first what he was doing, Alex began to nod. How could he not promise to keep her from being taken again? “If there’s no other way.”

  He let the statement linger on the crisp morning air. Grace would hate him for this, but a part of him couldn’t help but give Hope this tiny bit of assurance.

  She released a heavy sigh.
“Thank you.” She started to go, then turned back. “Don’t say anything to Grace. She doesn’t understand.”

  “No, she doesn’t, but she does love you more than her own life.”

  “I know. That’s why you can’t tell her what you’ve promised me. She’d never understand—if you have to do it. And . . . if you care anything about her or the others, you’ll do the same for them rather than let the Indians take them.”

  She walked away, leaving Alex more troubled than he’d ever been. He’d been so consumed with his past and the war of emotions going on inside him that the plight of these women had been only a thought on the perimeter of his mind.

  Alex considered what he’d just agreed to as he made his way to the meeting. When he arrived, the discussion was well underway.

  “We’re going to get everyone on the boats and head to Fort Vancouver tomorrow,” Peter Ogden announced to his men. When Ogden had come to the rescue, he’d brought three boats and men to man them, along with the trade goods he’d used to ransom the women and children. “I’m sure you know the talk—the rumors about the growing number of Cayuse and other Indians.”

  “Ain’t no rumor,” one of the burly, bearded men countered. “I’ve counted more each day.”

  Ogden nodded. “As have I. That’s why we’re leaving. I want to put out no later than noon.”

  The men gave a nod or grunt of approval.

  “We will put women and children as families onto the boats,” he instructed. “Try not to separate anyone who wants to stay together. They have been through a great deal, and we don’t want to make it worse for them.” Again the men nodded, and Ogden continued.

  “Make certain the boats are ready—that they haven’t been tampered with. I know we’ve had guards on them continually, but I don’t trust those Cayuse not to have found a way to sabotage us. Double the guard tonight and take shifts so that you can still rest up for tomorrow. I want every man to make sure his rifle and pistol are in working order.”

  Alex stood at the back of the room, waiting for Ogden to complete his speech. He had to speak to him before they departed. Given that Alex wasn’t a drinker or a gambler, his Hudson’s Bay account still had plenty of credit, and Alex wanted Ogden to see that it benefited Grace and her sisters once they arrived at Fort Vancouver.

  As the meeting concluded and the men headed to bed or guard duty, Alex made his way to intercept Ogden.

  “I wonder if I might have a word.”

  Ogden nodded. “Of course, Alex. What is it?”

  Alex lowered his voice. “There is a family here . . . three sisters.”

  “Yes, the oldest was here when I arrived. Mrs. Martindale.”

  “Yes. Her sisters were at the mission, but Grace was with me and Sam Two Moons at another mission when the attack took place. Anyway, they have very little to their names, especially now.”

  “None of these women have anything. The Cayuse robbed them of most everything. They’re lucky to have the clothes on their backs, and as you saw when they arrived, some of them had very little of that. Supposedly the governor is going to arrange for a militia to go to the mission and retrieve what they can, but for now we’re meeting their needs to the best of our ability.”

  “I know.” Alex had been glad to see that Ogden held back some of the supplies he’d brought for trade, instead using them to help feed and clothe the women. He’d also arranged in their negotiations for the Cayuse to bring grain from Whitman’s stores to help feed the victims. “Grace and her sisters are special friends of mine.”

  Ogden smiled. “I’ve seen the way you act around Mrs. Martindale.”

  Alex hid his surprise. He had thought himself careful not to reveal his feelings. “My point is that I want them to have my company credit when you get to Vancouver.”

  This only made Ogden’s smile widen. “That’s mighty generous of you. Have you told them?”

  “No, and I don’t intend to. When you arrive, simply tell Grace that credit has been set up for her. If she wants further explanation, tell her that you have none.”

  “Well, won’t she have a good idea? I mean, you’ll be right there.”

  “I’m not going with you. I’m heading back to the Nez Perce village. Sam Two Moons and I are readying our traps for spring.”

  Ogden lost his smile at this. “Alex, you’re a good shot and have a keen eye. I was hoping you’d help me on the return trip. There will be times of portage when we’ll be far more vulnerable. I’ll need you to scout out things and let us know if any hostiles approach. I’ll pay you good money.”

  Alex knew he couldn’t refuse. “I don’t need pay to do what’s right.”

  “Then you’ll come along?”

  Alex blew out a long breath as he remembered his promise to Hope. “I guess so.”

  “Good. I’ll even arrange for you to have free passage back here so you needn’t be gone any longer than necessary. Get yourself plenty of powder and balls at the store, and anything else you feel you need. I’ll tell McBean to charge the company.”

  Alex nodded, feeling a sense of trepidation at what he’d just agreed to. He needed to avoid contact with Grace, and yet now he was accompanying her to Fort Vancouver. He walked out of the main hall and crossed the grounds. Overhead, the moon, although half full, was waning. It had been the same the night after the attack. He wondered if the women would notice.

  He’d heard the details of the killings at the mission, as well as how Narcissa Whitman had been shot and then later mutilated. In his mind he could see the aftermath—the bodies left out in the moon’s dim light. Someone had said that the Indians planned to burn the mission to the ground, and Alex actually thought that would be a good idea. That place would forever bear a sense of loss and sorrow. Better to leave it all in the ashes and let the land—and the people—heal.

  But would healing ever come? He had wrestled to find healing these past ten years. He had struggled to make peace with himself and with God. He glanced to the skies again.

  “Father, I know I’ve been wrong to hold such anger . . . at You. Gabriel told me all the time that my anger would only eat away at my heart, and I know that’s true. But I also know that You can give me a new heart.” He felt his shoulders slump. A weariness unlike any he’d ever known settled on him.

  “I’m asking Your forgiveness,” he whispered. “I’m asking You to help me resolve the past. I don’t want to go back to New Orleans, but if that’s Your will for me, then show me how to do it—how to make peace with those who hate me . . . and those who love me.”

  By noon on the second of January, the Hudson’s Bay Company boats were loaded and heading down the Columbia River. Unfortunately, the growing audience of Cayuse decided to follow along the riverbanks. It left the women weepy and the children clinging to their mothers. Grace did what she could for anyone who needed her tonics and treatments, but medicine could only do so much. After many miles, they finally left the Indians behind, much to everyone’s relief.

  At night they pulled ashore and camped. Most of the women didn’t want to leave the boats, but Ogden insisted. Grace noted that no one moved very far ashore, however. She was grateful that Ogden gave particular attention to posting guards. Even Alex took his turn watching over the camp with the other men. He seemed ever diligent to do his duty and to avoid her.

  Grace tried not to let it bother her. She did her best to ignore Alex altogether and focus instead on the women and children. It hurt her more than she could say that they wanted very little to do with her. She had broken bread with them, tended their little ones, and heard their secrets. Now, however, they wanted only to be left alone. Grace was determined not to take their snubbing personally. From what little she’d managed to get out of Hope, Grace knew that having shared and survived the attack on the mission made them different from her. All Grace could do was wait. Maybe, in time, the women would once again allow her into their circle.

  After breakfast on their third day, Ogden made an announcement. “Tod
ay we’ll be on a rather rough part of the river. I don’t want anyone to fret, but you’ll need to do exactly as you’re told or risk losing your life or that of your children. My men will get us through safely and assist you however they can.”

  There were murmurings among the women, but no one made any real comment. Once they were again on the river and the water became more difficult, many of the women and children became nauseated and vomited over the side of the boats. Grace mixed tonics to help ease their misery, but still they suffered. Even Mercy and Hope were spent from the ordeal. Only Grace and the men seemed to have little difficulty.

  “If you drink this, you’ll feel better.” Grace reached into the bag at her feet and produced a small bottle of tonic and a spoon. She extended it to her sister.

  “I don’t want it,” Hope replied.

  “But it’s helped the others, and I know it would help you as well. Remember how Mama would give it to us when we were sick?”

  Hope glared at Grace. “I don’t want or need your remedies. Now leave me alone.”

  Grace couldn’t bear her sister’s rejection. “Please, Hope, don’t cast me away. I only want to help. I have one remedy that Mama always swore by to calm nerves, and I really think—”

  Something in Hope seemed to snap. Before Grace could finish her sentence, Hope pushed her away, scooped up the carpetbag, and threw it into the water.

  It made a dull splash and immediately began to sink. Grace lunged for it, nearly throwing herself over the side. Everything they owned was in that bag. Strong arms pulled her back into her seat, and Grace turned to find one of the men looking at her like she was crazy.

  “My bag went into the water,” she tried to explain. “I need it. It has my medicine and . . . well . . . everything.” Rippled rings marked where the bag had entered the river. Even as they moved steadily downstream, Grace could see them. She looked back at the man, knowing there was nothing he could do.